Many, many thanks to Toff for betaing this!

Now; question. I've tried to make the Javerts' motivations very clear in this chapter, but I'm not so sure that they aren't overly villianized. Comments would be most helpful.

EPONINE

Of course, it had occurred to her that her father's methods were none-too-gentle; more than once, the victims of his robberies emerged from the encounter slightly less than alive. She had asked on Montparnasse's behalf about the "Fauchelevent robbery," and she had been astounded to see the hate that her father seemed to carry in regards to the man of the house.

Cosette's father, then?

Yes. The hate against Cosette's father. If Thenardier were allowed to carry out this robbery, it was unlikely that anyone in the house would come through alive. This, Eponine thought, would benefit her; Cosette stood in her way, and she wanted Marius to herself. Why not assist her father, even? She certainly couldn't stop him with the idea of Marius as hers in her mind, could she?

…No. Wait. Marius knew about her father and his business practices; Marius's grandfather's retirement money had given out- something to do with privatizing something or another; she wasn't sure what- and the two had been forced to live in the same slum of an area that Eponine's family called "home." Marius had, of course, been a witness to a number of her father's operations. Marius, while absentminded, doltish, and unobservant, was not unintelligent. Though Marius and his grandfather had moved away to a better area over two years ago, she was sure that he would remember.

She winced. Would he possibly think that she, Eponine, had had a hand in the robbery?

Not only was it possible- it was probable.

And then what?

He'd hate her if Cosette were harmed. Oh, how she hated him! He was unsympathetic to her- he seemed to hate or fear her unless there was an errand to be run- oh, she hated him! But he spoke to her; wasn't that something? He would look at her, ask her questions… She could hear the sound of his voice! Would she be deprived of this in his anger, were Cosette to be harmed?

Well, then.

"I've got to stop him."

JAVERT

Philippe knocked curtly on the door of his daughter's bedroom with his spare hand. Surely she was awake already, readying herself for school.

"Come in."

He turned the doorknob and entered the room. His daughter stood before the mirror, her dark hair falling about her shoulders. He turned his head in disapproval. "What did I tell you about that?"

"About what?"

"Your hair, Dominique."

She sighed and threw one hand in the air while reaching for a rubber band with the other. "Fine," she said, shrugging as she pulled her hair into a neat ponytail. She then turned to look at him. "Did you need something?"

A rare smile crossed his face. "Let me ask you something, first. The prayer was started…?"

"Four days ago."

"And it's been successful?"

Dominique moved her hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "For the most part. There's a group of, shall we say, rebels who walked out on the first day because of it, but they've been suspended since; they come back today. I've heard that three of them had their study period moved to that hour, and that a fourth tried. It's a little odd, but there's only a few places they could be… I'll find them."

"Are those four the only problems?"

"No. There's five more, but they all have Calculus at that time, and I expect that that teacher would report anything... I might want to check on it myself sometime."

Philippe nodded. "You 'might want to'? I thought better of you. CONSTANT VIGILANCE," he barked suddenly, making Dominique jump slightly and avoid his searching eyes- they frightened her on occasions like this; they seemed to be able to see through lies, and deceit... It sometimes seemed to her that he was capable, even, of seeing through solid walls.

"I'm sorry." She paused, and looked at the ground. "What did you come in here for?"

"Rephrase that properly and I'll tell you."

She nodded. "Why did you come here? Was there something you needed?"

He sat down on her bed and motioned to the handful of papers he carried. "Read these."

She sat down beside him and scanned every sheet, her face becoming more and more elated with every sentence. "So… If this goes through… Separation of Church and State will be gone… This will make us a Christian nation?"

"That's the basic idea, yes. The specifics are, of course, far more in depth, but I wouldn't ask for you to read all of it."

"This is wonderful!"

"Indeed."

"When will it go through? Will it go through?"

Philippe nodded once, standing as he did so and straightening the bedspread in a compulsory movement. "It is more than likely that this bill will be passed; it is almost certain. I, for one, am certain, and my superiors are hopeful. If all goes as planned, this will take effect before the end of the week. Much has changed for the sake of expedience."

"Will there be more changes?"

Philippe tilted his head sharply, the motion making him look like a large parrot with unseemly sideburns. "That, Dominique, is a very broad question. However. I do not doubt that more changes of this nature are on the way. Of that, we may be assured."

"Excellent."

He faced her, suddenly solemn, his arms crossed. "I do not want you to become mindless."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Explain to me why you believe this change to be, as you so ineloquently put it, 'excellent.'"

She shrugged. "Simple, really. The laws of this nation are based on the Ten Commandments. By restoring the Church to its rightful position, only order may ensue."

"Define order. Give me your predictions, as they are."

Her eyes rose to the ceiling. "The crime rate will, inevitably, decrease. The level of moral education- and education in general- will rise; the quality of life for all will increase. By learning piety, all will be more sympathetic… I can only imagine that trust in authority will give The Victors more power, and with power, how could they not increase the quality of every life?"

Philippe nodded once, slowly before reclaiming his papers, seemingly thinking of her question. "There is, Dominique, a higher call. I can only be glad that you have answered it, as I have." He paused. "If you don't hurry, you will be late for school."

"Of course."

THE SPOKEN

The bell rang, signifying the beginning of the prayer; the voice on the PA system solemnly (and mechanically) beginning to recite the now standard oath. Eight of The Spoken stood in a hallway of LMHS- three having left their study period, and five having walked out of their Calculus class, thankful for the fact that their teacher had simply looked away as they had passed.

"Poor Bahorel," Jehan muttered softly. Combeferre shrugged and was preparing to respond when a roar, accompanied by several cries of surprise and titters of amusement, echoed from a nearby classroom.

"ALLAH! ALLAH! FORGIVE ME MY SINS, ALLAH! SHIVA! VISHNU! KWAN YIN! O, MOTHER OF MERCY! I BOW BEFORE YOUR MIGHT! SATAN! LUCIFER, MY FATHER! TAKE ME TO THINE EMBRACE; THINE INFERNO! AH! I MUST BE SPEAKING IN TONGUES, AS NO ONE SEEMS TO KNOW WHAT THE HELL I'M YELLING ABOUT! WELL, THEN MAY THE GOVERNMENT 'EDJUMICATE' YOU ALL! AMEN! SHALOM, EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT MEANS! MAY THERE BE PEACE ON EARTH! SO MOTE IT BE! BLESSED BE, MY BROTHERS, BLESSED BE!" There was then a resounding bang as the door to the classroom from which the shouts were echoing flew open, and Bahorel, red in the face, emerged, shaking with laughter, and pursued by an incensed English lit. teacher.

"Young man! What was that?!?"

Bahorel feigned surprise with shocking expertise and nearly convincing innocence. "Why, I was praying, Ms. Goulding."

She sighed muttering incoherently. "Fine! I'll move your study period!" She then retreated into the classroom, slamming the door behind her.

Bahorel grinned widely. "I knew she'd succumb to my supreme powers of persuasion."

EPONINE

The tree in Cosette Fauchelevent's backyard was full of bugs, and she didn't like bugs, but she liked Marius even more than she didn't like bugs, so it was worth it. A tune was echoing through her head- a tune that she couldn't quite place. It felt old. She let it envelop her, almost to the point that she didn't hear her father and Montparnasse coming down the street. Almost.

She glanced at the clock that was barely visible through the window of Cosette Fauchelevent's kitchen. It was half-past-eleven. 'Right.' She slid down out of the tree but remained in it's shadow as Montparnasse clambered over the fence, followed by Thenardier. Breathing slowly, she crossed the yard.

"Hello."

"Who the hell…?" Thenardier reached into his pocket and produced a sharp knife with a serrated blade that folded smoothly out of the handle. Eponine recognized the weapon well.

"Relax, daddy; it's me. I haven't seen you much today, and I've missed you. Have you missed me, daddy? Oh, you haven't thought of me? Well. Make it up to me, and kiss me now."

"Not now, 'Ponine. Get out," he growled.

"Now, daddy. Is that any way to speak to your daughter?" She turned. "What about you, 'Parnasse? Would you care to give me a kiss?"

"Shut up; leave us alone. Now."

She laughed loudly, but shortly. "I'm so under appreciated."

"Not so loud!" Thenardier hissed.

She stepped back, nodding. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" Montparnasse shoved her aside roughly.

"I think that you're about to be sorely disappointed. The house doesn't have anything of value inside, but it does have a nice security system. I came to warn you."

Thenardier sneered. "How nice of you to care. We do our homework; you should be home doing yours." He paused. "We know how to deactivate the system."

"To steal what? A cardstock table and some plastic chairs?"

"Get out of the way," Montparnasse snarled. "We'll tell you if there was anything of value. Would you like that?"

"I'll tell you what I'd like," she said, suddenly forbidding. "I'd like for you to leave."

Thenardier sighed. "Your daddy has to make a living, doesn't he? We'll find nice things inside, and I'll find money, and buy you nice things…"

She backed away, sneering, suddenly more thoughtful than she'd ever been. "I've listened to enough. I've told you what I want." She held up a hand. "Now, listen to me. You two might be men, but I am a woman. Women are bitches, and bitches are dogs. That's right; I'm the guard dog. One scream is all I need; this is a well-to-do neighborhood, and the cops would be here in a second. Now, get out."

"You'll regret this for as long as you live."

"I don't intend to come home tonight."

D. JAVERT

She sat at the dinner table and scanned the paper, top to bottom, starting in surprise. She then began to read in depth. As the document was only one page long, it did not take her any significant period of time. Her face lit up slowly but gradually- like a building fire- until she radiated happiness. "Confessions of thoughts! Is this… Is this serious?"

Philippe nodded once, curtly.

"So… All citizens will be called upon to write out any negative thoughts they've had about the Government?"

He nodded again.

"And if anybody suggests anything to contradict the confessional, the guilty parties will have to stand trial as terrorists."

"Again, correct. This will purge the air of anything- or anyone- that might stand in the way of The Victors…"

"I can see that," she said, two tears of joy leaking down her cheeks. She stood and stepped happily into her father's embrace.

"The Empire is coming."

AN:

As the little revolution is going to start soon, I need some believable OC's. So if anybody wants to be in my story, email me telling me a bit about yourself, etc, etc; about as much as is given for one of Les Amis. Then, I write, and you tell me if you're IC or not. Bit of a challenge for me, all the more fun, you see?