Javert was not having a good day.
He was in the small town of Montfermeil with two of his colleagues. They had been tracking a cutthroat, but the trail had grown cold. The man was nowhere to be found.
One of his colleagues, a man named Inspector Benoit, suggested, "Let's stop at that inn over there. It's not like we'll get any more work done tonight."
Javert inclined his head stiffly in agreement. "Very well." He agreed grudgingly. He hated to end the chase, but there was no point in going off in the dark after a man who could be anywhere.
They stepped into the Waterloo Inn and were instantly greeted by a rat-faced man. "Good evening officers." The man said with a oily grin. "I am Monsieur Thernardier, your host. Please, take a seat, make yourself comfortable."
Javert regarded the innkeeper with cold disdain, disgust as the man's oily tone in his heart. He left his colleagues to discuss prices with the man and went and sat at one of the tables. Another man, a man in a yellow overcoat, sat alone at a nearby table. Javert watched the man with a sort of detached interest, wondering vaguely why the man sat alone.
It wasn't until the man lifted his head and gave a clear view of his face that Javert's interest was caught. The man had snow-white hair and a scruffy beard to match. His deep brown eyes were kind, but Javert did not see the kindness, only the familiarity of the face. He knew this man.
Javert was overcome with confusion. How was this possible? The man was supposed to be dead! It had been confirmed! The inspector struggled with these conflicting thoughts for a few minutes before pushing them forcibly out of his mind. However the man had come to be alive did not matter. What mattered was that he was arrested immediately.
A fierce joy, the joy of a tiger cornering its prey, filled Javert as he stood from his table and crossed over to the man. He laid a firm hand on the shoulder of the unsuspecting man, waited for him to turn and face him, and said with a slow grin, "Jean Valjean, you will not escape again."
A few feet away, Cosette watched the scene with unexpected sadness in her heart. The kind man who had helped her was now being arrested. She watched mournfully as the man tried to make a run fir it, but got caught by the three officers. He was taken away by three officers, his head bowed. He turned to look sadly at Cosette as he was led out. She wasn't sure, but she thought he had mouthed to her, "I'm sorry."
Little did she know that this moment would change her life forever.
Alright, I have a fairly valid explanation as to why this exists. I was watching my cousin in a ballet of Cinderella last night, and the costume Cinderella was wearing reminded me of little Cosette in her raggedy clothes. I know it's pretty sad that Les Mis is the first thing that comes to mind while I'm watching a ballet, but I digress. My mind then began to
a. Pretend the entire duration of the show that Cinderella was Cosette and Marius was the prince
b. Begin to plot out an entire Les Mis/ Cinderella crossover.
This can also be blamed on the influence of Spirit-Lily of deviantArt's Mizwarts story. Go read it now it you haven't already, it is awesome.
Cosette, Valjean, Javert, Thernardier (c) Victor Hugo
Benoit, cutthroat (c) Me