I only own Marceline.
Marceline smiled as she finished filling out the report on the man who had been with Fantine earlier that evening. She couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride when she handed it over. Inspector Javert looked it over and placed it on his desk.
"Thank you, Madamoiselle." He gave her a brief smile which she happily returned.
"It was my pleasure, monseur." She said, turning for the door briefly. Her mind turned to the Thenandiers. She'd been warned about them several times; they were a pair of inkeeps who wrung every franc out of their tennants. She was about to leave the station when she turned back to Javert.
"Actually, Monseur, I was hoping I could ask a favor."
"Oh?"
"Yes. The woman from earlier is staying with me. She was sending money to a couple of inkeeps to look after her daughter" Javert's smile from earlier was no longer present on his face.
She continued, "I've heard... stories, monseur. I've arranged with the mother to collect her daughter while she's resting, but I'm afraid they'll become violent if they don't benefit from the deal. I was hoping I could borrow and escort for the evening. Just in case."
Javert nodded briefly, calling in a younger officer from another room. The new man was handsome, chin-length blonde hair tied back with a blue satin ribbon, cerulian eyes sparkling as they looked her over. His imposing height made her feel safe rather than intimidated, the well-fitted uniform showing off a slender yet well built figure.
Marceline offered her hand for a shake, but he brought it to his mouth and kissed it gently.
"Francis Bonnefoy, Madamoiselle." He smiled, eyes shining.
"Marceline Angevine." She informed him, grinning almost challengingly to hide her pounding heartbeat.
Javert gave Francis his job description and she thanked them both, leading Francis to her carrage.
"We'll stop at home first to check on Fantine." She told the driver, who nodded with understanding. Francis offered a hand to help her into the carrage, but she ignored it, favoring swinging up into the seat with her hands on the bars. The blonde man shrugged lightly and climbed in himself, sitting across from her as the horses began to pull.
"Fantine is the woman you're carring for, I presume?"
"Yes. She's staying with me until further notice." She said, begging her fluttering heart to calm down.
"That is very kind of you, Madamoiselle." Marceline smiled despite herself.
"Call me Marceline." she insisted, "Formality bores me terribly." Francise laughed at the comment.
"Well, I shall have to do my best not to bore you, won't I?"
"Yes, you shall." She laughed quietly in return. The two talked comfortably until they reached her home.
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,., Timeskip brought to you by Enjolras's seemingly nonexistent smile ,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
Marceline allowed Francis to help her out of the carriage before dashing for the door, not bothering to hold it open for her guest. she sprinted for the sofa, sighing in relief when Fantine was still there. She carefully picked up the cloth on her patients head, rewetting the cloth and wringing t out before placing it back where it had been. Francis watched her do this with mild interest, curious as to how a woman with an upbringing like he assumed Marceline had had could be so caring for a woman she hardly knew. It wasn't something he was used to, being a high society brat himself.
The woman carefully slid her arms under the sleeping figure, lifting her into the air and walking into a hall. Francis followed behind, ready to jump in and catch both women if need be. But Marceline didn't falter once, carrying the blonde woman in strong arms. Finally, she stopped at a door and looked at Francis.
"Catch the door for me, will yeh?" She said, nodding at the door. When she realized that she hadn't covered her accent, a look of terror passed through her eyes.
Francis didn't seem to notice, simply opening the door for her. Marceline nodded her thanks and entered the bedroom, carefully sliding the sleeping blonde under the covers. The blue-eyed man stood by, watching Marceline whisper to the woman, now noticing the foreign accent on her lips.
"Since when are you Scottish, mademoiselle?" She stopped murmuring, going rigid. She froze like that for a while before smirking.
"Finally caught. Wondered when it'd happen, honestly."
"You're avoiding the subject." He informed her. The brunette stood, ringlets bouncing as she did so.
"Alright, yeh got me. I'm half Scottish. Dad's a Scot, mam's a frenchie. Happy?" She asked, obviously pissed. He made a motion for her to continue and she sighed, slumping to the bed. She begun to explain, accent totally unrestrained.
"Me mam was on a trip to Scotland with me granddad when she met me da. Obviously, they fell in love, an' had an affair. Mam went home an' found out she was pregnant. Me da knew what'd happen to an unmarried mam 'round 'ere, so I got shipped to Scotland and was raised there. Moved 'ere a few years back when me mam got sick. Clear?"
Francis nodded, watching her carefully. "And why is it a secret?"
"Because people are cruel. Because I've been called a bastard child more than once by people half my age and I can't stand it." A hand covered her own and Marceline smiled at the awakened Fantine. Francis sat next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder and she gave him a grin as well.
After what seemed like hours of wordless comfort, Marceline had Fantine sign a note to retrieve Cosette. When she had, Marceline set out a simple gown for the blonde and ordered a meal to her room for when she woke up. Then she and Francis slipped out and into the carriage, destined for the Thenandiers inn.
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Yay! Another chapter! Well, there's the explanation for the Scottish-ness, because quite a few of you had asked. Well, until next week, mon amor!
