Summary: At Christmas one family has much to be thankful for… just a one-shot about life after les mis

Disclaimer: Les Miserables and all its characters belong to Victor Hugo

Thankful

It was that time of year again; the time when the streets and houses of Paris were festooned with lights, wreaths and other colorful knick-knacks chiefly in red or green. Delicious smells would waft out of kitchens, bakeshops and restaurants while shops played melodious tunes and groups of carolers made their rounds. In short, it was that happy time known as Christmas.

The family living in the Rue des Filles du Calvaire, no. 6 was a living example of festive cheer. Old Gillenormand, the doting grandfather, gleefully ran around the mansion as they set up the decorations, almost more times underfoot than his great-grandchildren. An almost-century old man with the energy of a child one-tenth his age. The house was certainly very lively, more so than he had ever known it to be. He was thankful.

Ever since Marius had brought back a lovely young bride to his stern childhood home things just seemed to brighten. Their happiness only increased upon the arrival of a son and then a set of twins, a boy and a girl. As he sat in his comfortable chair in the living room watching his wife and children decorate the tree, he marveled at the paradise he called his own. He chuckled as his eldest son moved to rescue an ornament from his brother who had decided the gingerbread man needed to be sampled. He was thankful.

"Mama! He's trying to eat-" The eldest Pontmercy child sighed in relief as his mother gently took the little glass decoration from her curious child and hung it on a branch high enough for it to be safe from the child's grasp or mouth. To stave off the waterworks his brother was priming, an activity their sister fully intended to support, he quickly brought out a plate of real gingerbread men; thankfully the attention span of three-year olds is relatively short and the little men were soon the sole focus of their thoughts and teeth. Seeing their happy faces made him grin. He was thankful.

The mistress of the house smiled to herself as she observed how mature her eldest child was; her little darling was such a big help to her and would keep a protective brotherly eye over his younger siblings, particularly his sister. The gentle soul always helped anyone he thought needed it. Already he was living up to his namesake.

The season, along with her son's actions, stirred Cosette's memories and brought her back to a time when her world was that of hunger, pain and loneliness not security, comfort and happiness. Back then Christmas was a time for her mistress and her mistress's family, not for her; the most she could hope for were table scraps. Then one day he came. He changed her life; that Christmas she had been given a gift that kept on giving: the love of a father.

That love had taken her from her harsh beginnings and nurtured her into womanhood just like a delicate flower and ultimately brought her together with the one she loved. Her father had given her this happiness, she thought as she watched her family. Little George and Fantine had climbed into their father's lap, currently munching on an arm and a leg respectively, having decapitated the little men moments before, while Jean was being lifted up by his grandfather in order to place the star on top. She was very thankful indeed.

"Merry Christmas Father…thank you…"

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