Author's Note: Just want to say a quick thank you to everyone! Not only did I get fantastic reviews, but so many people from everywhere have been reading it, adding it to their alerts and even favourites! Wow! I gotta say that I am touched. To show my gratitude, I'm adding all of these chapters at once! I had them all for a while but I couldn't figure out what to do for chapter 10. But here it is, finally!

Hope you keep on enjoying! Thank you so much for all the love!

Chapter 10

The next few weeks were rather unexciting. A month had gone by with nary a theft or murder attempt, and we were steadily rolling into the third month with little more to do other than paperwork. I had spent almost a year working for Javert already, and it seemed like a normal thing, a second nature to me to come into work every day, or even stay in the office well past midnight. Often one or both of us ended up spending the night in his room, falling asleep over paperwork, or collapsing onto the couch after a long day of simple exhaustion. I smiled when Javert fell asleep at his desk or on the furniture near the stove. He would always do far more work than was ever necessary, and barely gave himself time for rest. I had a sneaking suspicion that he lived in his office; I had never seen him leave to go 'home'. It wasn't my concern, however, and I let it pass.

I clicked my pen against the ink a few times, as though I could magically make more paperwork appear, seeing as there was nothing else to do, but of course nothing came. I tossed the quill into the bottle in frustration, and leaned back in my chair, an irritated groan escaping my throat. "This is nonsense," I drawled. Javert wasn't in the room, so I proceeded to make my complaints verbally apparent by groaning and sighing. I covered my eyes with my forearm.

I was still thinking about Mircea. I had not seen him since that night, and I had made very few attempts to visit. My home was no longer the tiny two-and-a-half house. My home was here, with Javert. As much as I was ashamed to admit it, I was no longer a part of my own family.

No, I couldn't think like that. I had to try and reconcile with my brother. I had to mend the broken seams. There had to be a way… I had to find a way to return to what we used to be.

I shook my head. I was overthinking everything. I needed to calm myself down. I began to breathe deeply, humming a lullaby to myself. Gradually my eyelids felt heavier and heavier and eventually were shut completely. I mumbled the rest of the lullaby, and, just before the final chorus, I was dozing softly in my chair.

My dream was a distant memory, not all there…

"Mircea, hurry, hurry up!"

"No! Tsura, you slow down!"

We laughed as my brother ran after me. In my hand I clutched the doll my mother had sewn for me; it wasn't anything to speak of, a little plush thing almost resembling me in a spring-green dress, stuffed with feathers and straw, but I loved it. I scurried away from Mircea, giggling. The sky was grey.

Suddenly, I found myself face to face with a large dog on a very thick rope attached to a pole. My toy was under its paw, and it was growling fiercely at me. I didn't know what else to do, and I was frightened, so I began to blubber and sob. My brother had appeared by my side; I did not know how he got there so quickly. He made a constant, calming "shh" noise, his right hand straight out in front of him, his left hand at an angle. He stepped toward the dog carefully, trying to get to his knees as quickly as possible without startling the dog. "Good boy, good dog," he said shakily. He went to pet it, but touched his nose accidentally. His hand moved out of the way of the animal's teeth just in time. He tried again. The dog seemed to calm down. "Shhh, shhh," murmured my brother. "You have my sister's doll, and she wants it back." He gently kneeled down, and then, as quickly as he could, grabbed the doll and stumbled backwards. The dog's teeth ripped at his arm. The wound was shallow, although the bite would later turn into a scar. He grinned at me, the doll in his hand. "Here you go!"

I mumbled something and shifted my position in my chair. The memory was a different one.

A flash of lightning. A rumble of thunder. The hard pattering of a cold, unforgiving rain. I shivered under the table, bringing the blanket more tightly around me. My parents were gone somewhere; I didn't know where or for how long. I whimpered. The sound of the storm drowned out everything else. I wanted someone to comfort me.

A hand rested on my shoulder. I jumped, and looked into the kind eyes of my brother. He hugged me immediately. "It's just a storm," he said. "There isn't anything to be scared of."

"But it's so loud… it-it-it-it's frightening!" I cried. Thunder crackled menacingly and I felt Mircea's arms tighten their hold around me.

"Just calm down, Tsurie," he said. "A storm is a great thing. It makes things grow, and sometimes, if you're lucky, you see a rainbow appear in the sky. And all the birds sing. It's wonderful." I could hear his smile. I began to calm down.

Suddenly I was outside, in the rain. No longer a child… no, it is me as I a young woman, barely sixteen… the man holding me is Mircea… when did he grow up to be so big? He's shivering against the rain, but we do not go inside. Our father had just been just taken away by Javert and some other faceless officers. I remembered Javert's eyes… cold, and hard, and so terribly unforgiving. I screamed to let him go, let him go, let him go! He pushed me away and did not listen. He must have forgotten about it by now. Mircea never did. I couldn't.

I am just a few years younger than the age I am now. I am standing on the bridge overlooking the Seine. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I didn't even flinch. I just thought of my father. We were lucky to have figured out his fate – a convict that had escaped had found us and told us the hurried news before running off. It was lucky that just as I started to cry the rain started. It soaked me to the bone. My wails echoed, and I didn't care. I leaned against the parapet to keep from falling. The arms that came from behind were thick and strong and wrapped me comfortingly.

When I turned around…

"Javert?"

I woke up with a start, then rubbed my forehead. "I hate the rain," I muttered bitterly. "What a stupid dream."