A/N – Okay, I'm updating. As some of you know, my computer had Windows
reloaded and all my programs that weren't saved to disks were wiped out.
Sadly, Bobette was one of these. Luckily, I had already printed Bobette
because I love it that much. So, I'm using my pre-pre-pre-editing version.
Whee. *laughs* and my computer tried to change 'Bobette' to 'Bebop.'
Eponine Enjolras- Yay! Here comes more to read. I think I read your next chapter... yeah... 'Twas very funny.
La Pamplemousse- *gasp* I have written not only a sock-rocker but also... a shoe-rocker? *is proud* Thank you muchly.
Sweet775- Heh. I'm a very creative person. I also wrote this fic right after reading the book, so I think it's pretty darn accurate... except I can't imagine Fantine naming identical twins Bobette and Cosette. I also wasn't too clear on French-style names when I wrote the fic... obviously.
Elyse3- Yay! Two people call me creative! I'm afraid I'm sort of a Marius abuser. Not that I don't love him... I love all the Mizzies. It's just so much fun to abuse Marius and Cosette... the thick ones.
Disclaimer – I don't own Les Mis. I do own Bobette. Um... *can think of nothing witty to say*
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Cosette awoke to the sound of movement. Her head hurt terribly, and she had no idea where she was. Something touched her arm, and she realized that a handsome young man was cutting the ropes around her wrists and ankles. Yet Cosette had no idea why they were bound in the first place.
The man grinned at her. "Why are you tied in the corner here? I thought you kept out of sight of them in this house."
He seemed to think that he knew her somehow. Her blank stare must have told him plenty.
"Come on, Hawk. It's Parnasse! Your chum from the underworld." He laughed under his breath at his own joke.
The name meant nothing to her – something he could plainly see. Looking concerned, he began to inspect the welt on the back of her head. Saying something she did not catch, the man pulled Cosette to her feet and set off, dragging her after him.
A moment later they stood outside the grating off a sewer. Pulling it open, Parnasse pushed Cosette in ahead of him. Her dress tore on the broken lock. When the baroness glanced down she realized that she was wearing rags instead of her familiar black gown. The new tear blended in with many others.
Cosette turned to say something to Parnasse, but he was gone. In the blackness of the sewer she heard his voice mixed with many others, the majority of which she could not understand.
A hand grabbed her shoulder and Cosette jumped. A bearded old man stood at her side, his face slightly illuminated by the light coming through the grate.
"Well, Hawk, Montparnasse here tells me you got yourself a lump and a bind. How did you manage that?"
She blinked. "Hawk?"
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Montparnasse, how big was that lump?"
"Not so large. It should have been a mere nothing for someone like our Hawk," replied the younger man's voice from the darkness. Unless she was deceived, Cosette thought that she heard a touch of admiration in his statement.
Without warning, a boy's head appeared at the sewer grate. "Move on, move on! Th' cops're comin'!"
These words caused a huge ruckus in the sewer. A hand grabbed Cosette's wrist and began to drag her further into the blackness of the sewer. She managed to follow her new captor, stumbling and then being dragged until she could get herself on her feet again. Their footsteps made dull splashing noises. Cosette tried not to think why.
She could not see a thing, but apparently her companion could. They raced down endless dank passages, turning every few minutes in another direction, until Cosette could finally make out a tiny speck of light in the distance.
The light grew and grew until it could be recognized as a sewer grate. The other person's face was finally illuminated. It was Montparnasse.
He shoved her hastily out the grate and began to follow. Cosette was soaking wet with who-knew-what, and the rags she wore barely kept her warm in the chilly afternoon breeze.
She collapsed onto the street.
Someone grabbed her from behind, forcing her arms behind her back and pulling her to her feet. Cosette looked up and saw that Montparnasse was also struggling with an inspector. Something cold, round, and metallic was pressed into her neck.
"Well, well, well, Montparnasse and the Hawk. What a find, what a find," came a voice from behind Cosette. "The old fellow would have been proud, had he not-"
The cold voice broke off for a moment, then resumed.
"He, of all people – the very model of an inspector. Then comes that revolution, and something must have snapped in him. I suppose we'll never know what."
The policeman holding Montparnasse's arms took one hand away from his captive to remove the hat from his head. This was a mistake, for Montparnasse began struggling again. He nearly broke free, but the man dropped his hat, pulled a pistol from somewhere inside his greatcoat, and pressed it against Montparnasse's neck. The young man was forced into a position exactly like the one Cosette was in. It was then that the Baroness Pontmercy realized what was happening.
Cosette's captor removed the weapon from her neck and began to fasten manacles about her wrists. The other policeman did the same to Montparnasse.
The prisoners were dragged around the corner and then shoved roughly into a fiacre. One of the policemen told the driver to take the two to a police station as quickly as possible.
Inside the cab, Montparnasse had moved much closer to Cosette than she thought was necessary. There was plenty of room on his other side. Cosette desperately wished he would scoot back over. After all, she was a married woman.
"It will be alright, you know," Montparnasse said comfortingly. "They have yet to invent a jail that can keep out gang in."
And Cosette wondered if she had died and missed out on heaven.
Eponine Enjolras- Yay! Here comes more to read. I think I read your next chapter... yeah... 'Twas very funny.
La Pamplemousse- *gasp* I have written not only a sock-rocker but also... a shoe-rocker? *is proud* Thank you muchly.
Sweet775- Heh. I'm a very creative person. I also wrote this fic right after reading the book, so I think it's pretty darn accurate... except I can't imagine Fantine naming identical twins Bobette and Cosette. I also wasn't too clear on French-style names when I wrote the fic... obviously.
Elyse3- Yay! Two people call me creative! I'm afraid I'm sort of a Marius abuser. Not that I don't love him... I love all the Mizzies. It's just so much fun to abuse Marius and Cosette... the thick ones.
Disclaimer – I don't own Les Mis. I do own Bobette. Um... *can think of nothing witty to say*
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Cosette awoke to the sound of movement. Her head hurt terribly, and she had no idea where she was. Something touched her arm, and she realized that a handsome young man was cutting the ropes around her wrists and ankles. Yet Cosette had no idea why they were bound in the first place.
The man grinned at her. "Why are you tied in the corner here? I thought you kept out of sight of them in this house."
He seemed to think that he knew her somehow. Her blank stare must have told him plenty.
"Come on, Hawk. It's Parnasse! Your chum from the underworld." He laughed under his breath at his own joke.
The name meant nothing to her – something he could plainly see. Looking concerned, he began to inspect the welt on the back of her head. Saying something she did not catch, the man pulled Cosette to her feet and set off, dragging her after him.
A moment later they stood outside the grating off a sewer. Pulling it open, Parnasse pushed Cosette in ahead of him. Her dress tore on the broken lock. When the baroness glanced down she realized that she was wearing rags instead of her familiar black gown. The new tear blended in with many others.
Cosette turned to say something to Parnasse, but he was gone. In the blackness of the sewer she heard his voice mixed with many others, the majority of which she could not understand.
A hand grabbed her shoulder and Cosette jumped. A bearded old man stood at her side, his face slightly illuminated by the light coming through the grate.
"Well, Hawk, Montparnasse here tells me you got yourself a lump and a bind. How did you manage that?"
She blinked. "Hawk?"
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Montparnasse, how big was that lump?"
"Not so large. It should have been a mere nothing for someone like our Hawk," replied the younger man's voice from the darkness. Unless she was deceived, Cosette thought that she heard a touch of admiration in his statement.
Without warning, a boy's head appeared at the sewer grate. "Move on, move on! Th' cops're comin'!"
These words caused a huge ruckus in the sewer. A hand grabbed Cosette's wrist and began to drag her further into the blackness of the sewer. She managed to follow her new captor, stumbling and then being dragged until she could get herself on her feet again. Their footsteps made dull splashing noises. Cosette tried not to think why.
She could not see a thing, but apparently her companion could. They raced down endless dank passages, turning every few minutes in another direction, until Cosette could finally make out a tiny speck of light in the distance.
The light grew and grew until it could be recognized as a sewer grate. The other person's face was finally illuminated. It was Montparnasse.
He shoved her hastily out the grate and began to follow. Cosette was soaking wet with who-knew-what, and the rags she wore barely kept her warm in the chilly afternoon breeze.
She collapsed onto the street.
Someone grabbed her from behind, forcing her arms behind her back and pulling her to her feet. Cosette looked up and saw that Montparnasse was also struggling with an inspector. Something cold, round, and metallic was pressed into her neck.
"Well, well, well, Montparnasse and the Hawk. What a find, what a find," came a voice from behind Cosette. "The old fellow would have been proud, had he not-"
The cold voice broke off for a moment, then resumed.
"He, of all people – the very model of an inspector. Then comes that revolution, and something must have snapped in him. I suppose we'll never know what."
The policeman holding Montparnasse's arms took one hand away from his captive to remove the hat from his head. This was a mistake, for Montparnasse began struggling again. He nearly broke free, but the man dropped his hat, pulled a pistol from somewhere inside his greatcoat, and pressed it against Montparnasse's neck. The young man was forced into a position exactly like the one Cosette was in. It was then that the Baroness Pontmercy realized what was happening.
Cosette's captor removed the weapon from her neck and began to fasten manacles about her wrists. The other policeman did the same to Montparnasse.
The prisoners were dragged around the corner and then shoved roughly into a fiacre. One of the policemen told the driver to take the two to a police station as quickly as possible.
Inside the cab, Montparnasse had moved much closer to Cosette than she thought was necessary. There was plenty of room on his other side. Cosette desperately wished he would scoot back over. After all, she was a married woman.
"It will be alright, you know," Montparnasse said comfortingly. "They have yet to invent a jail that can keep out gang in."
And Cosette wondered if she had died and missed out on heaven.