When the girl awoke the next morning, she found herself once again alone in the small, dark apartment. Swinging her legs over the side of the armchair that had been her bed the previous two nights, she hopped down onto the cool wood floor and padded over to the window to look out. Schoolchildren were already out playing in the streets on their noonday lunch. Darcy glanced at the clock on the wall next to Javert's desk and frowned, unable to read it. Abbey and her friends would be out soon.

Darcy bounded down the hall and peeked into the small space Javert used as his bathroom. A washbasin on a small table sat against the far wall, and a small, cracked bit of mirror served to aid in shaving. A comb, razor and various other toiletries sat on top of the table next to the basin. There was a towel rack on the opposite wall, and that was it. Seizing the comb in her small hand, Darcy worked what she could of the tangles out of her hair and, pouring a little water into the basin, scrubbed her face with her hands. She placed the comb back in its place on the table as a bumping sound could be heard from the front room.

Darcy bounded to the window to look out. Abbey and her friends stood in a small huddle in front of Javert's front door, and Darcy jumped down and threw it open to greet them. When she did, they all cast nervous glances over Darcy's shoulder to the inside of the apartment.

"Is he at work?" Abbey asked in explanation to Darcy's questioning look.

"Oh, him…. He left earlier this morning, and won't be back until dark."

The group looked slightly relieved, and Abbey grabbed Darcy's hand. "Come on, we're going to play tag, and I'm first!"

Darcy laughed as they all took off across the street and down toward the park, the promise to be inside in an hour and a half forgotten.

Corinne Beauviard sat heaped miserably in her cell, casting dark glances at any and all who passed by. The guards who passed her cell merely ignored her. She was a child of the child of the underworld, a creature of the night, and in their eyes, inferior and not worth a moment's thoughts.

There is however the odd member of law enforcement who feels it his privilege to bully and harass those under his power.

Unfortunately for Corinne, he was such a man, and she was to be the object of his amusement. It was midnight, and the aforementioned officer was bored. Most of the other prisoners were asleep, and the ones that weren't completely ignored him. Except for Corinne Beauviard, who shot daggers at him every time he passed. This display of attention, albeit negative, was interesting, and he found himself watching the girl each time he passed. On his fifth or sixth time around the cell block, he stopped, and Corinne looked up. The officer gave her a crooked grin.

"Hey eh… I heard somethin' aboutcher daughter there…" This caught Corinne's attention as he knew it would, and he continued. "I heard she's livin' with Monsier L'Inspecteur.." he said with a smirk. "Thet wouldn't be too good for the little girl, now would it..?" he mused.

Corinne's mouth fell open. "What else do you know?"

The officer grinned lewdly. "Well I dunno… that depends on whatcher willin' to pay for it…"

Corrine's jaw closed firmly and she sneered at him. "Forget it." But to her surprise, the officer began fiddling with the keys at his belt.

"I said forget it!" Corinne cried. "If you think just because I'm a whore I'll-"

"What's going on here?" Another officer peered around the corner and the first glared at him. "Get lost! I'm interrogating her!"

The second nodded and disappeared, and Corinne turned her eyes back to the man.

"Now you're just going to sit yourself still now and -- hey now!" The officer laughed as Corinne leapt at him, one fist flying. He caught it easily and Corinne cried out as the grip nearly crushed her hand. The man pulled her hand back in such a way that she was forced to her knees. Her other hand seized and held above her head, and the officer's other hand seized a clump of her hair.

"Now…" the officer growled. "Are you going to behave… or do I have to make it hurt… worse?" The grip on Corinne's hair tightened and she winced.

"I'd rather die than lay so much as a finger on you!" Corrine spat and received an even tighter squeeze on her already-sore scalp.

"We'll see about that!" The officer forced her to her feet and backed the girl against the back wall of her cell. "Go on…" he chided, his stale breath in her ear. "Call for help… no one cares I'm in here… no one cares about you, either…"

The officer's breath was so disgustingly close to her ear, Corinne felt her stomach heave. The officer's hands pinned hers to the wall above her head. She could hear him fumbling with his clothing as she kept her eyes trained on the hallway ahead, trying with all her might to get her ears to block out the sounds of activity in front of her. She felt her stomach heave in digust and clamped her eyes shut, forcing herself to block out what was happening. She was a prostitute, after all. There would always be someone who wanted to take what wasn't theirs, and had no intention on paying for. That was the nature of the job.

The officer's movements managed to jar her slightly, and she opened her eyes to hear footsteps just as a shadow appeared in the hallway. Someone was coming. A brief, fleeting sense of satisfaction brightened her dark thoughts until the face belonging to the shadow appeared at her cell door. She let out a startled gasp and the officer chuckled.

"See… you know you-"

"Monsieur L'Inspecteur!" Corinne gasped and the officer was away from her like she'd burned him, fumbling with his trousers, his face bright red.

"Monsieur, I-"

"There is no need for explanation, Lucian." Javert said coolly. "However, please collect your things and be gone from this jail and my sight within the hour, or I will forcibly remove you myself. You may find employment elsewhere."

The officer's jaw dropped, but he knew better than to argue. Javert turned his gaze toward the shaken girl, snatching at her clothing like a starved child after a piece of bread. Much of it was torn, and she held what she could up to her chest, avoiding the Inspector's frank gaze. Finally her temper sparked.

"Are you just going to sit there watching me half-naked or are you going to leave?" Corinne snapped, shooting a cold gaze at him. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "And what of my daughter?"

"Your daughter is being cared for." Javert said simply.

"Where?" Corinne pulled the last of the clothing on and glared at him.

"You needn't worry about that. She has been attended to."

Corinne's eyes shot up and Javert saw worry in them briefly. She dashed to her feet and stormed up to stand level with him, drawing herself up to her full height.

"Tell me where my daughter is!"

A sharp slap to the jaw caused her to stagger backward a step, hand to her cheek. "You bastard…" she growled.

"You will learn to show respect to those in power." Javert said stonily and stepped back into the hallway. A sharp click signified the locking of the door once more. "Your daughter lives with me." he said, and turned away. A sharp gasp was all he heard in reply.

Darcy sat on the armchair that served as her bed, fussing over a tear in her dollie's dress. She'd looked around for a needle and some thread to find none, and even if she had, didn't know how to sew, so she resigned herself to the armchair to play quietly.

Footsteps crunching in the snow signified the man's return, and the door opened as Darcy looked up. The man looked tired, his shoulder slumped slightly as he removed his black overcoat and cap. Darcy hopped down from the chair to greet him, but he just passed by wordlessly and retreated into his quarters. She heard the water pouring into the basin in the small washroom and sighed, plunking down in her chair again.

It wasn't that she wasn't happy here. The place was warm and dry, which was far from how you could describe the small falling down lean-to she'd shared with her mother. The wind was constantly blowing in through the cracks, and there were only two blankets. Food was scarce, and they were lucky to eat once a day. So it wasn't as if she didn't welcome the change. She just couldn't understand why the man wouldn't let her see her mother, why she was kept so far away from her. A small tear gathered in the tiny girl's eye and fell on the doll's cloth face.

Javert returned from his quarters and headed into the kitchen, glancing at the girl on the chair in the living room. "Darcy." He said firmly.

"Yes, Monsieur." The girl said forlornly.

"I spoke to your mother today. She is well."

Darcy's head shot up. "May I see her?"

"No. But it is important for you to know that she thinks of you. I will arrange for you to see her when she is released from the jail."

Jail. Now there was a strange concept. Darcy's mother had spoken of it once or twice before, of not wanting to go there, of the fear she felt lest she be arrested, but she had never explained the concept. All Darcy could discern was that it was someplace you went where people would never see you again.

Darcy hopped off the chair and lingered in the doorway to the kitchen. "Monsieur."

"Yes?"

"Why did my mother go to jail?"

Javert paused. "You are too young to know. I'll show you when you're older."

"Why later?"

"Because you are too young to be exposed to such evils."

That seemed to end the conversation, and Javert served what he had been making onto two plates and brought them to the table, and the two sat down to dinner.