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On the first floor of The Sergeant of Waterloo inn, Jean Valjean sits by the window, a singular flickering candle casting long shadows, just barely managing to keep away the gloom.
Across the room, Cosette sleeps peacefully. Catherine - the doll she loves so much - is tucked safely under her arm, like she's afraid the doll might be taken from her in the night. In any other circumstance, perhaps it might be. Valjean watches her without moving, seemingly at peace to any outsider who may pass and catch a glimpse at him. He is not at peace, however. A fire rages beneath his veins, a fury only dampened by the immense heaviness of his heart. How long has it been since she has known the comfort of a soft mattress beneath her? The signs of her mistreatment are etched onto every inch of her fragile frame; the tangles in her hair, the callouses on her feet, and the yellow and purple that bloom on her pale skin.
Were Valjean a different man, untouched by divine intervention and unaware of the omniscient gaze of God, he might yield to the temptations of revenge lurking at the edges of his mind. Within him is a desire to confront the Thénardier’s, to inflict upon them the same anguish they inflicted upon Cosette. Yet, he dismisses these thoughts as quickly as they come; it is not his place to continue the cycle of cruelty.
His place is to escort Cosette away from these circumstances, providing her the opportunity to live the life that Fantine had always envisioned for her. Truthfully, he isn’t sure what that entails, but he believes that Paris will know. He hadn’t wanted to spend a minute longer here, but Cosette was exhausted from merely living her life, and Valjean needed her to survive the long journey back to Paris.
He’s lost in his thoughts when a sudden knock at the door shatters the silence. It’s nearing dawn; they’re almost due to leave, and Valjean's heart lurches with apprehension. Their debt has been settled; what more could Thénardier want?
With one last look to Cosette, he rises from his seat and crosses the room to answer the summons.
As he swings the door open, he's met by the oily figure of Thénardier, his sneering face as repulsive as ever. Though perhaps not physically unattractive, the ugliness of his actions and intentions have hollowed him out, leaving behind a shell of a man devoid of integrity or substance so that nobody would be mistaken upon first glance. It only becomes clearer in the dim candlelight, the shadows lending him no favours.
"Ah, Monsieur," Thénardier greets him with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with what is likely a foul scheme. Valjean can practically smell it on him, amongst the alcohol and unwashed skin - he reeks of excitement. Thénardier leans, peering behind Valjean, and he resists the urge to move and shield Cosette from Thernadier’s prying eyes, “Tired her out, did you?” his mouth opens in a monstrous grin, “Forgive my interruption, I’m sure you’re busy.”
Valjean's jaw clenches at the implication. Under the watch of God or not, Valjean would rather act and seek forgiveness later. How many others had he let leer at her, or worse? He stares, impassive, though his hand twitches slightly at his side.
"It occurs to me…" Thénardier continues, when Valjean refuses to divulge any details, "...that there are two other little darlings under my roof who could benefit from your...generosity."
Valjean's mind flickers back to the two other girls he glimpsed earlier during supper, Eponine and Azelma, nearly recoiling at the offer. To Thénardier, they are merely bargaining chips, their worth measured in francs and sous, though the innkeeper may not have realised it until he had been able to haggle for Cosette to a complete stranger. He doesn’t seem to care about what Valjean might do to them.
"I assure you, Monsieur," Thénardier purrs, sensing Valjean's hesitation, "They are in desperate need of a guiding hand. And who better than you, a man of such means and compassion, to provide it? Think of the… opportunities you could give to them. All it would take is a little more coin."
Valjean's mind races as he processes Thénardier's insidious proposition. It’s out of the question; he has no stake in Azelma and Eponine. What’s worse, he cannot fathom tearing the girls away from their mother, disrupting whatever fragile bonds of family they’ve weaved together. Intervening in the affairs of another's family isn't why he's here.
But a small part of him doubts. A small part of him wonders.
If he does not take the girls, what sort of future awaits them here? Will they be sold off to the next rich gentleman that happens to cross their path? As they grow, will they too be subjected to the same cruelties and injustices that have plagued Cosette's young life.
Was this the best place for the two girls to grow up, under the thumb of a family like the Thénardier’s? Had he been led here to save not just one child, but three? Valjean’s heart beats so loudly that he’s sure Thénardier should be able to hear it. Could he really take them, and suddenly be responsible for three children?
"And what of their mother?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer.
The question hangs in the air, heavy with implications. Valjean knows that Madame Thénardier, despite her flaws, loves her daughters in her own twisted way. Taking the girls would mean tearing them away from the only mother they've ever known.
"Fear not, Monsieur, if we were to part with Eponine and Azelma, Madame and I have no doubt we could always... replenish the ranks, so to speak."
Valjean's jaw clenches with indignation at Thénardier's callous response, but it’s almost a blessing too; it seals the deal for Valjean.
He meets Thénardier’s gaze with steely determination. "Very well," he concedes, his voice low and resolute, "I will pay for them, on the condition that we leave now, before Madame Thénardier has a chance to object."
Thénardier's grin widens, "Agreed," he declares, extending his hand in a gesture of mock camaraderie, "You won't regret this, Monsieur."
Valjean does not shake Thénardier's hand, instead reaching for his wallet once more. He retrieves six bills, adding up to 3,000 francs. 1,500 per child.
"I trust this will suffice," Valjean says evenly as he places them on the table.
Thénardier's eyes gleam with greed as he snatches up the bills, quickly counting them twice, "Yes, yes, quite satisfactory," he mutters, his fingers lingering a moment longer over the money before stuffing the bills into his own pocket.
"But, there is one more matter to attend to," Thénardier adds, "The girls, you see, are accustomed to certain... luxuries. Fine clothes, jewellery, you know the deal. In order to take those things with you too, I would need compensation, you see. I provided those means for these little girls, and it would be a shame to deprive them of such things, don't you agree?"
Valjean's jaw tightens, his gaze hardening as he meets Thénardier's cunning stare, "Their well-being is my priority," he replies, his tone steady but laced with a warning, "I will not be extorted for items of frivolity."
Thénardier's smirk falters but he quickly recovers, his expression morphing into one of mock innocence, "Of course, Monsieur," he says smoothly, "I merely thought to ensure the girls' comfort. But if you deem it unnecessary..."
Valjean's resolve wavers for a moment, a pang of guilt tugging at his conscience. For practicalities sake, he needs them to be warm. And since Cosette already has her doll, he may as well bring the ones for the children. It was a reasonable argument anyone could’ve made.
“Their dolls and coats. That’s all.”
“Well, their coats would be at least thirteen francs each. They’re fine material; only the best for our girls. And the dolls,” he sniffs, “Though not as fancy as the one you bought Cosette, they fetched a pretty penny. Fifteen francs each, if I recall. So that’s another fifty-six francs.”
Valjean’s eyes narrow. He had entered the Thénardier’s establishment, more than aware of the tricks that the innkeeper was likely to play on him. And yet somehow, despite his cautions, he’s left extorted and swindled.
However, to argue would only draw out the engagement longer, and dawn is nearly upon them, “Very well,” he finally says, and fishes out the correct amount, depositing the coins in Thénardier’s outstretched hand.
"We leave now," Valjean says, his voice brooking no argument, "Gather the girls, and be quick about it. We have no time to waste."
As Thénardier scurries out of the room to do his bidding, Valjean is left alone with his thoughts. The past ten minutes flew by so quickly, leaving him bewildered at how it all unfolded. How had he gone from being the guardian of one little girl to suddenly three? When he entered the inn, he felt like a reasonable person, but now, as he prepares to leave, he feels as if madness is seeping from his very pores.
Despite the chaos swirling in his mind, he knows he mustn’t waste the time he’s been given. Turning to where Cosette lies undisturbed, he feels his heart soften. Approaching her bedside, he gently places a hand on her shoulder, giving her a tender shake to rouse her from slumber.
"Cosette, my dear," he murmurs softly, "It's time to wake up. We have a journey ahead of us."
Cosette stirs groggily, blinking sleepily as she slowly comes to consciousness. Her eyes find Catherine first, and they brighten with a dazed smile, as if perhaps she thought she had dreamed all that had come before.
Rubbing her eyes, she sits up, casting a drowsy glance towards Valjean, "Monsieur?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep, "Is it time to leave?"
Valjean nods, "Yes, my dear. We must leave soon, before the morning truly comes. But I have a surprise. Eponine and Azelma will be joining us on this journey."
Cosette’s eyes widen and for a moment all Valjean can see is hurt and betrayal reflected back at him, “Monsieur…” she whispers.
“What’s wrong?”
Cosette seems embarrassed to say it, eyes sneaking a glance at Valjean’s face. She reaches out to Catherine instead, straightening her hair and clothes anxiously before she finally says, in a timid voice, “They- they are as cruel as the Madame herself.”
Valjean's heart sinks at Cosette's reaction, a pang of guilt gnawing at him as he watches her struggle with the news. He should have thought ahead; should have realised the gulf between their upbringings would mean that Eponine and Azelma had inherited their mother’s bullying tactics as well.
Gently, he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from Cosette's face, "I understand," he murmurs softly. "I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, Cosette. But… I will not allow them to mistreat you; they will not be allowed to get away with that behaviour if it happens,” he promises her, before pausing, “I’m hopeful that perhaps away from their parents, they will learn to have a kind heart instead, like yours.”
"But Monsieur," she whispers, her voice trembling, "What if they hurt you?”
Valjean could melt for this sweet girl and her compassion, despite all she’s been through. Though, he does have to smile at the thought of a nine year old and a seven year old causing him damage, "I will do everything in my power to protect the both of us, Cosette," he promises.
She nods slowly, though the small worried line between her eyebrows doesn’t go away. He hates that the indent is there in the first place; she’s too young for those lines to have settled permanently on her face.
He helps her dress into her new things, leaving her old rags and clogs behind. Together, they make their way downstairs, the floorboards creaking softly beneath their feet. Valjean's gaze falls upon Azelma and Eponine, their figures huddled together on a nearby bench, faces drawn and weary with sleep. At least they have their coats on.
"Girls," Thénardier's voice slices through the air when he notices Valjean, "Get up! You're both going with this nice man."
Azelma and Eponine startle from where they’ve been dozing, their faces twisted with confusion and fear as they stare at Valjean in horror, "What?" Eponine near-shrieks, looking to her father, "No we are not."
“Shut up, child,” Thénardier hisses, throwing a nervous glance up the stairs, “Your screams will wake the dead.”
Valjean watches the fear rising in Eponine's eyes, her chest heaving with rapid breaths as she shakes her head, mumbling something so softly Valjean can’t hear it. Azelma, perhaps more in reaction to Eponine than any alarm of her own, mirrors her ractions, until the two girls are spiralling into a state of panic.
Valjean feels Cosette’s hand suddenly in his, her grip tight as she looks up at him for reassurance, "What's happening?" she whispers.
Before he can offer her any comfort, Thénardier steps towards Eponine, his hand clamping down on her shoulder with bruising force, "Move it, girl," he snaps, and Eponine recoils in shock, her eyes wide with terror as she stares up at him.
"Let me go! You won’t make me go!" Eponine cries out, desperation lacing her voice as she struggles against her father’s grip. "Maman! Maman, help!"
"I said shut up, you little brat!"
Valjean moves forward, intent on intervening before the situation escalates further. Before he can reach them, Thénardier's hand lashes out with brutal force, silencing Eponine's cries with a sharp slap across her face. Eponine stumbles back in shock, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stares at Thénardier with wide-eyed terror. Azelma’s mouth clamps shut.
"Enough of this!" Thénardier growls to both of them, his claw tightening on Eponine’s shoulder, "You will do as I say, or suffer the consequences. Now get up and go with him, or I'll make sure you regret it. And if you dare try to run away from him, you’ll rue the day you return here."
"Enough, Thénardier," Valjean says, stepping forward, "Release her."
Thénardier's eyes narrow with disdain as he glares at Valjean, but beneath the facade of bravado, there's a flicker of uncertainty. Valjean stands tall and wide, an unwavering block of muscle against Thénardier’s skinny, alcohol-drenched stature. It would not be a long altercation.
"I'll do as I please," Thénardier retorts, his words always a more reliable weapon, "These are my daughters, and I'll discipline them as I see fit."
Valjean's jaw clenches, "I paid for them," he reminds the other man, "They are no longer yours to discipline."
Thénardier's expression twists into a sneer of contempt, but Valjean meets his gaze head-on. There’s another calculation from Thénardier, no longer than it takes for them to blink, but he makes his decision.
With a final, defiant glare, Thénardier releases Eponine. Eponine staggers back, her eyes wide with disbelief as she looks up at Valjean, equal parts gratitude, fear and resentment shining in her tear-filled eyes.
For a moment, he’s worried that she might scream again, but the threats from her father must stay in the back of her mind, worried about what he might do if she were to call for her mother again.
“Come, girls. Grab your dolls. Let us leave this place.”
Eponine and Azelma hesitate, looking between their father and Valjean. It's clear they're torn, not wanting to go with Valjean, but not wanting to suffer their father’s consequences either.
Valjean doesn't pressure them. He can’t imagine how they must feel, but he has to remind himself of the reasoning behind his decision, too. Everything he’s learned in the last twenty-four hours has proven that the Thénardier’s have no business raising children. They are cruel, with no remorse under the eyes of anyone, let alone their God. Even if it hurts now, this was a better outcome for all of the girls.
Thénardier, having grown bored and agitated with waiting, throws his hands up with a scoff and turns away, likely to disappear into the back rooms to count his newfound fortune.
With a heavy sigh, Eponine steps forward to stand with Valjean, refusing to meet his gaze. She holds her doll close, a tiny lifeline. Azelma goes easily with her sister, though her eyebrows are knitted with confusion.
The four of them are quiet as Valjean guides Cosette, Eponine, and Azelma out of the inn and into the chilly night air. The streets are empty, bathed in the soft glow of the barely-rising sun as they make their way up the street to the town entrance. Cosette clings tightly to Valjean's hand, her eyes wide with wonder as she casts one last glance back at the inn.
Eponine and Azelma walk beside them, their steps heavy with reluctance. Though they try to maintain a facade of indifference, Valjean can see the traces of tears glistening in their eyes whenever he frequently turns to check on them, and he often hears a quiet sob from one of them.
What could be said to these children who have lost all they’ve ever known? Valjean dithers through words of reassurance, but it inspires no response from either of them.
Finally, they reach the outskirts of the town, the quiet stillness of the countryside distracts the girls from their tears as they look out at the rippling crops.
Valjean lets them look, turning to face the girls with a gentle smile, "We are to go to Paris,” he tells them, “It is far, if we take the roads. But if we walk through the forests, we will be there in no time. There is nothing in there that can harm you while I’m with you, but you must stay close and not get yourselves lost.”
Cosette looks up at him with wide, trusting eyes, squeezing his hand tightly. Eponine and Azelma exchange a hesitant glance before nodding.
“Did our father really sell us to you?” Eponine speaks up, the first words she’s said to Valjean so far.
Valjean's smile fades slightly at Eponine's question, and he kneels so he can address the girls at their height. He nods slowly, his gaze meeting theirs with honesty, "Yes, Eponine," he replies, "Your father offered the both of you to me for a sum of money.”
Eponine's eyes widen in disbelief, but it quickly turns to a scowl, "Why?"
Valjean sighs softly, searching for the right words to explain the situation to the young girl. She’s the eldest of the three of them, and he can already see that she’s clever and won’t be fooled by any attempts to disguise the truth, "Your father has a lot of debts," he explains, “I believe he thought this might be the only way out of them.”
Eponine’s eyes harden and she turns away from him, the hurt so raw she can't disguise it. He wonders if she somehow knew this might have always been a possibility for them. Azelma's eyes brim with tears at Valjean's words, her lower lip trembling, "I don't want to leave Mama.”
Valjean's heart aches, his own guilt so heavy he’s almost ready to take the two girls back, "I know, Azelma. It’s an awful thing, to not be able to be with her anymore," he says softly, reaching out to try and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinches away and he drops his hand immediately, "But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and cared for."
Eponine’s eyes narrow and she rounds on him with all the fierceness a nine year old can muster, “Will you sell us on then, once we get to Paris?”
Even Cosette’s hand tightens in his, as if dreading the answer.
"No, Eponine," he assures her firmly, "I will not sell you, nor will I ever abandon you. Not now, and not when you’re older. You have my word.”
Cosette squeezes Valjean's hand tighter, relaxing beside him, "So we’ll be a family, forever?”
Valjean's chest warms lightly and he nods, even though forever sounds daunting at this point.
"We are not family," Eponine retorts sharply, her eyes flashing with resentment as she turns her gaze towards Cosette, "This wretched brat is not my sister, and you are not my Papa. I won't pretend you are, you can't make me!"
Even as she says it, Eponine’s gaze flicks to Valjean as she stares at him, waiting. It’s a challenge, as much as she’s scared of the consequences. Valjean's expression just softens.
"Eponine," he begins, kind but firm, "You don’t have to pretend. I won’t ask you to," he acknowledges quietly, “But I won’t have you speak to Cosette, or anyone else, like that. How would you feel if someone spoke to you that way?”
Eponine's defiance wavers for a moment, clearly expecting physical retaliation. Her gaze falters under Valjean's gentle eyes. She clenches her fists at her sides, her jaw tightening as she wrestles with her emotions.
"I-I wouldn't like it," she admits begrudgingly, her voice softer now.
Valjean nods, acknowledging her response with understanding, "Exactly. Cosette doesn’t like it either, and neither would I," he affirms gently, "We must treat others as we wish to be treated ourselves, no matter who they are, and how difficult it might be."
He glances down at Cosette, who has nothing short of adoration in her eyes as she presses close to him, holding his arm against her tightly.
Eponine's shoulders slump slightly, her resistance beginning to wane in the face of Valjean's unwavering kindness. Valjean's gaze shifts to Azelma, noticing the conflict within her. There's a flicker of uncertainty there, as if she wants to trust him but is torn by loyalty to her sister
Valjean offers her a warm smile, “We’re all finding our way together,” he says gently, “Now, we should press on, before the sun becomes unbearable.”
With a hesitant nod, Azelma offers Valjean a tentative smile. It’s a tiny victory, but a victory all the same.
Valjean gets to his feet, ready to start off again, when a faint rustling catches his attention. He puts himself between the rustling and the girls, suddenly worried that perhaps Madame Thénardier has learned of her husband’s transaction, or that Thénardier himself has returned to extort more money from him.
Instead, it’s a small boy, surely no more than four years old, that stumbles from the bushes.
Cosette's eyes widen in surprise as she recognizes him. "That's Eponine and Azelma's little brother," she explains to Valjean, "His name is Gavroche."
Valjean's brow furrows in concern at the sight of the boy. He had been at the inn for well over twelve hours, and this is the first he has seen or heard of the boy. He must be after his sisters, no doubt, after seeing them leave. Before he can address the young boy and tell him to go home, Cosette speaks up.
"Papa, please," she implores, "Gavroche is treated just like I am, and they won't miss him. He deserves to be safe too."
Valjean hesitates.The implications of taking yet another child from the Thénardier’s plays tug of war on his conscience. The boy wears more than rags, but they’re nothing like the fine frocks he saw on the two girls. He wants to help the boy - of course he does - but the practicalities of their situation is also a consideration. Four children. He had been overwhelmed at the notion of taking just one to Paris.
But as he looks into Cosette's earnest eyes, he can’t help but reconsider. She called him "Papa," a name he never wanted nor thought about for himself. And yet it falls so easily from her lips, with all the trust and familiarity that comes with such a name. With a heavy sigh, he nods in acquiescence, knowing that he can’t deny her. A dreadful habit to already have.
"Very well," he says softly, "Gavroche may come with us if he wants. But we must be cautious, and it will be everyone’s responsibility to keep him safe. Are you ready for a walk, Gavroche?”
The little boy stares up at Valjean for a long moment, before his eyes slide to Cosette, with her hand in Valjean’s. Then he looks to Eponine and Azelma, who both scowl at him.
“Ready!” he says, needing no further instruction.
Cosette's face lights up with relief as she reaches out to take Gavroche's hand, her smile radiant with gratitude. Eponine and Azelma exchange a glance, a mixture of surprise and irritation flickering in their eyes.
Valjean looks over the four children, his brows furrowed. Gavroche doesn’t have shoes or a coat, and the sisters huddle together, their legs trembling in the cold air. They don’t have Cosette’s muscles from years of hard work. He gives a small sigh.
They’re going to need a carriage.