A/N : Ehh, I was going to just skip the thank-yous from now on, but...it just wouldn’t feel right. So here I am.

Daughter of Thranduil - It’s alright. I’m not going to freak out if somebody misses reviewing a chapter or three. Kiss, eh? I don’t know... It’s taken them 35,000 words to get as far as they are. Gah...

TheHobbitGirl - Yes. Yes they would. I’ll try my best to keep Valjean a regular from now on.

Les-Mis-24601 - Montparnasse isn’t necessarily gay... He’s just...Montparnasse, and will therefore do anything with a pulse.

Silveni - Awww, thank you. I rather like Feuilly myself. He’s so underrated, poor dear.

AmZ - Oh good, I’m not just a freak.

Trompe-la-Mort - Hee. Thanks.

Phangirl - It’s quite alright. You’re not obligated to review every chapter. I won’t blow a fuse! Promise! ;)

---

“Apologize.”

“I’ve already said it!”

Montparnasse flicked his bangs with his hand, huffing. “You didn’t mean it!”

“I...I did mean it. Really. I’m sorry.”

“You know, calling me ridiculous was one thing, and turning my offer down was another, and insulting me was only slightly offensive, but trying to run me over with your car really, really hurt my feelings.”

He turned his back, and Valjean, rolling his eyes, grabbed Montparnasse’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Montparnasse looked back at him, eyes narrowed. Valjean, realizing he would get nothing, heaved a deep, anguished sigh, and degraded himself. Falling to one knee, he held his arms out as wide as he could, and cried, “Parnasse! I am so sorry! I never meant to hurt your feelings!” Montparnasse turned back slightly, and he continued, prodding. “Can a suave, handsome young man like you ever find it in your heart to forgive an old fool like me? Oh, what I am I saying? I don’t deserve your forgiveness! I never should have turned you down!”

Montparnasse, flushed in pleasure, mewled, “Aaaaand?”

Valjean’s eye twitched, and he added, in a low, strained voice, “And I offer my sincerest apologies for...trying to run you over with my car.” Monotonously he followed up with, “Can you ever forgive me?

Montparnasse, waving his hands in happiness, grabbed Valjean’s arm and pulled him up. “See? That wasn’t so hard was it? Now, tell me again what you need! And no trying to hurt me this time! After all, you never know when you’ll need a guy like me!”

Valjean, cutting straight to the point, pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

“I need you to take this to the address listed. No fuck ups. And if a single dollar of that is missing...”

“I’m offended! You just gave me an ass-load of money. I don’t need anymore, and a deal’s a deal. I’m not going to leech off you. Promise.”

He saluted with two fingers, winked, and turned tail, scampering off into the darkness, leaving Valjean to tuck his hands into his pockets and amble off.

He really needed to make new friends.

---

It wasn’t very often, everyone knew, that a cop managed to successfully get along with a lawyer. Cops were civil servants, trying to protect the public from criminals, and lawyers were the ones trying to set them free. And even the prosecutors were just...frustrating.

And so the fact alone that Javert could manage to get along with Marius was not only a miracle in and of itself to Courfeyrac, it was also damn confusing. He himself used to be one, for God’s sake--he knew how they were. All Marius wanted was to win the damn case so that they could put their attention back on Valjean.

At least, he was quite sure that’s what he wanted.

Who, after all, could successfully read a lawyer?

He turned his head to look beside him, where Javert was watching Marius keenly. He looked down briefly, then nudged Javert in the side, getting his attention. Once their eyes met, Courfeyrac raised a brow questioningly. Javert, apparently not understanding what he was getting at, looked blank.

Rolling his eyes, Courfeyrac gave a quick wave to say, ‘Never mind,’ and took Javert’s hand underneath the table. Anything they faced, they always faced together.

As for Marius, he always faced things alone, and was so as he looked over each one of the judges, and then at Feuilly, and then, finally, at the cops.

They trusted him, didn’t they?

They looked like they did, and that alone was enough to make Marius squirm in nervousness as he gripped the podium. He was the only shot they had, and he was afraid that he was going to blow it terribly.

“Your honors...”

They looked at him silently, each one of them capable of striking him down and throwing these men in jail. He stared back, frozen.

“I...”

He looked around a bit, hand resting haphazardly on his chin. Feuilly caught his eye, an almost concerned look on his face, and Marius looked away quickly, facing the judges. He had gone this far, goddammit, and he certainly wasn’t going to lose it now, so close to the end.

He leaned down to the microphone and said, “Your honors, I don’t even know these men. I was sleeping in several weeks ago when I got a call, telling me that I was being assigned to help catch and try Jean Valjean. I met the two defendants that same day, and I...” He looked back at them, and smiled. “I thought they were the most idiotic, irresponsible, immature couple of public servants I’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. I still think they are. But I’ve seen them work, and I’ve seen their track records, and they have done their job the best they can. Mr. Feuilly told you about Detective Courfeyrac’s citation, but he didn’t tell you about the time he was shot in the arm trying to save a woman during a gang bust, or how, three years ago, he strapped on a bullet-proof vest and walked into a bank to negotiate with a man who was holding eleven people hostage.

“And Detective Javert has a spotless record. He’s collared more criminals than I can count, and has been wounded in the line of duty twice. These two cops have only ever tried to protect us. They risk their lives to save civilians and arrest those who would hurt them. They do all they can, and I... I pressured them into thinking the only way to help me, to help my case, was to acquire phone records. I didn’t care that they might misinterpret what I’d said, as long as it benefited me.

“And while it is still up in the air as to whether there was ever any breach of ethics, I can safely say that no matter how it happened, there was nothing in it but the need to protect another family from being ruined by Jean Valjean. No pride, no arrogance, not the need to put another name on their lists... All they wanted was to...”

He trailed off, and looked down at the podium, grabbing a file he had brought up with him.

“Your honors, I’ve remarked this Defense Exhibit B, and I’d like your honors to take a look at it...”

He handed the file off to a court officer, who delivered it to the waiting hands of the judges. He waited silently, knowing full well what it contained. Once each judge had looked, he added, “That’s a picture of the family Jean Valjean murdered. The woman’s name is Fantine, the man, Fé lix. The little girl in the middle is Euphrasie. She was two.” He paused, looking over at Feuilly, who looked disgusted. He himself knew it was a cheap tactic, but he was desperate. “These are the people the Detectives were trying to help. I think that maybe these people should get a little more than phone records that might lead to their killer. Justice in this case is long overdue, and this trial is only hindering is further. Let these men do their jobs, and put Valjean back in jail. No matter how it happened, we all want the same thing...don’t we? So...find them not guilty. And if you don’t, blame me, and let them continue on with their work. The only break in professionalism was on my part. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked between the nine of them briefly, muttered, “Thank you...,” and walked back to the desk, seating himself back in beside Javert, who grappled quickly for his hand, completing the chain between the three of them.

Marius, after all, was no longer alone in this.

---

Many people enjoy the winter, and Cosette, who was one of them, gave a shrill half-screech half-laugh as her roommate rubbed a handful of snow into her hair.

“No, no, no--aahhh!”

She giggled uncontrollably and ran away several feet, crouching down and grabbing a fistful for herself. She shook her hair out of her face, blue eyes squinted as she grinned widely, looking about for her target.

While most students left for home during the Christmas season, Cosette stayed nestled in her dorm, having no place to speak of to go. Her roommate, a pretty girl who liked to go by the name Musichetta, stayed as well, since her family lived far away, and she was reluctant to leave Cosette alone for so long.

So now they were frolicking outside, their faces flushed pink from the cold, throwing snowballs at each other. Cosette, while being the shorter one, had no lack of energy, and when Musichetta tried sneaking up behind her, she shrieked and ran off, forcing Musichetta to give chase.

Somehow or another, Cosette managed to sneak up behind her friend, and before the girl could react, Cosette had leapt on her back, giggling crazily. Musichetta screeched and tried to throw her off, screaming random obscenities between laughs.

They were in this position when a voice called, “Wow! I need to go to this college!”

Musichetta, startled, gasped and dropped Cosette, who fell into a heap on the snow. She righted herself quickly, with the help of Musichetta. They turned to look at the man who was approaching.

Cosette, ever unafraid, sped over to him, smiling breathlessly.

“Is there something we can help you with, sir?”

He was very handsome, and young, and the girls, for their part, admired how black his hair was, and how calmly he held himself. Musichetta, however, stayed back.

He looked them over, dark blue eyes searching. Finally, he asked, “Do any of you lovely ladies happen to know Cosette Thénardier? I’d be eternally grateful.”

Laughing to herself, Cosette grinned and straightened up, placing her hands on her hips mockingly. “I’m Madame Cosette, good sir. What is it that thou needest?”

He paused, and looked her over. “Oh, you’re much prettier than I thought you would be.” He grappled in his pocket and pulled out a photograph.

“You know this man? I’m a friend of his.”

Cosette looked, and cried, in surprise, “That’s the man from the restaurant!”

Her attention fully gained, she ran over to the man’s side, shooing Musichetta with her hand. Musichetta fell back, but did not leave, keeping a wary eye on the both of them. She, after all, looked out for her friends.

Cosette, shoving her hair over shoulders, allowed the man to pull her off a few feet. Finally they stopped, and he leaned down, whispering.
“He sent me here to give you something.”

Before he could tell her what it was, she interrupted with, “But who is he? I don’t understand! He hasn’t shown up for weeks, and I don’t know why he ever did in the first place. You’re a friend, you have to know! Who is he?”

He smiled, and shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. It’s not part of my contract. I can, however, tell you that he has a very great interest in you, and he’s quite adamant in making sure you have everything you need.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out an envelope. “This is for you, sweetie.”

Cosette took it eagerly, hoping for some clue. She opened it, reached inside, and nearly fainted when she pulled out a handful of bills.

“I...”

“He told me that there was five thousand in there. He also said that he’ll have more out to you as soon as he can. He wants to make sure you go to the best college you can. Hope you have the brains to match that money, sweetheart.” The man backed away, flipping Cosette’s hair playfully, calling, once he was a ways off, “After all! A father really should help his child through college, lest he be seen as a bum now, shouldn’t he?”

Cosette froze, watching the man turn tail and sprint away, her mind unable to process what she had just heard. Musichetta walked slowly over to where Cosette was standing, and it was a good thing she got there when she did, because several seconds later Cosette’s legs gave out and she fainted.

“Cosette!”

As she grabbed her friend, Musichetta noticed the package laying next to her, as well as the money, and, when she saw a security officer running towards them in concern, she grabbed it and put in her pockets.

Whatever Cosette had gotten herself into, she would help as best she could.

---

“Will the defendants please rise?”

Marius, his heart pounding loudly in his chest, stood, and nudged Courfeyrac and Javert into doing the same. The cops shrank back a bit under the scrutinizing gaze of the judges, and Feuilly, hands clasped in front of him, met Marius’ eyes briefly.

The head judge cleared his throat, and began, “Detectives... We have deliberated, and we all agree that we find your behavior unbefitting that of a police officer. Your conduct was reprehensible, irresponsible, and illegal.”

Marius became pale, and felt a clench of nausea in his stomach.

“As cops, your duty is to uphold the law to it’s fullest, and when a cop acts above the law, he must be stopped swiftly and without mercy. No one can be above the law, you understand, because that is all that is holding society together. Without the law, there is no social restraint.”

Courfeyrac reached down and took Javert’s hand in his own.

“It is the decision of this court, with two dissents, that we find you guilty on the charge of police misconduct.”

Javert’s hand fell lax in Courfeyrac’s, and Marius’ hands began shaking uncontrollably. Before any of them could let the full impact settle in, the judge continued :

“However...as there are mitigating circumstances, the court understands why you did what you did. Therefore, we have decided that though you are guilty, you should retain the positions you hold in law enforcement. However, we are urging your superior to give you a severe tongue-lashing.”

Courfeyrac smiled and whispered, “He does that no matter what.”

“However, we have decided that in the case of Jean Valjean, the obtained phone records are not to be used as evidence. As for you, Mr. Pontmercy. We shall see you in our chambers immediately after dismissal. Court is adjourned.”

Marius, silent, nodded his head, bowed slightly, and turned to Javert, smiling.

“Congratulations.”

Unable to find any words, Javert had no choice but to watch miserably as Marius turned his back and walked off proudly to take his punishment.

Javert felt the desperate need to cry.

“Come on,” Courfeyrac whispered, dragging Javert out of the court room as fast as he could. “Let’s get back to the station. Combeferre’s probably worried sick.”

Javert broke free, and stood, frozen in his tracks.

“Aren’t we going to wait?”

“...for Marius?”

Javert nodded, and Courfeyrac smiled.

“Alright. Let’s wait.”

They huddled together against the wall, and Feuilly came out, briefcase in hand. When he caught sight of them, he paused as if deep in though, and then, making up his mind, he turned and came over to them, a passive look on his face. Courfeyrac eyed him testily.

“What do you want?”

Feuilly sat his briefcase down and smiled, hands held up in surrender.

“Mind if I wait with you?”

Courfeyrac, surprised, could only nod dumbly. Feuilly silently moved next to Courfeyrac, leaning against the wall. He heaved a sigh, and looked over at the cop, who stared back. Finally, Feuilly opened his mouth and said, “Marius doesn’t like me much, does he?”

They shook their heads, and Feuilly laughed.

“Not surprising.”

“Why are you waiting?”

He looked at the curious Courfeyrac, and shrugged. “He’s a lawyer. Lawyers watch out for each other.”

When Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, he amended, “Sometimes. Every now and then.”

Chuckling deeply, Courfeyrac let out a sigh, and held out his hand for Feuilly to take. The lawyer looked over, saw Javert holding Courfeyrac’s other hand, and hesitated. Courfeyrac added, “You may as well. We’re looking out for him too.”

Nodding, Feuilly took Courfeyrac’s hand, and they leaned back, waiting, letting out occasional sighs.

Sometimes court was downright depressing.

---

A/N : This chapter is damn long, so no whining about how long it took to update, eh? ;) And no, Montparnasse and Cosette are not gonna do it, and no, Musichetta will not be a very big character. And yes, I am a lazy ass who hardly ever updates. And no, I didn’t proof-read.

And now it’s time for another : Twisted tries shameless self-promotion tactics... SO!! Ever wondered what I look like? Ever wondered what I sound like? What I do in my spare time? No? Well, screw you. You can check out my live journal anyway. Comment on something and tell me who you are, if you do decide to visit. After all, my reviewers are like my children. If I didn’t hate children.

http://cloudytm. to hear Éponine’s Errand in square-dance form? I’ve got it on there!