Fantine was getting better.

Slowly, yes, but unmistakably. Her cheeks and lips were recovering the roundness and soft hue of pink. The fever had become less and less recurrent and her body was not shivering anymore. She was going to live. Jean Valjean felt like he could breath again…except he couldn't, because he was about to do possibly the greatest sacrifice he would ever do.

The doctor and nuns had gladly granted him his request for a private moment with her sleeping form, awaiting for her awakening, seeing how his visit was the highlight of her day and he was going to take it from her for a couple of days. He hesitated for a second before letting out a resigned breath and calling out to her.

"Fantine…"

Her pale eyelids fluttered for a second and a soft whimper left her lips, but she gave no sign of waking up. His brow furrowed. She needs rest, even now, but the words are threatening to burst within him and he's not sure he can stand it.

"Please..." he whispers, this time daring to place his hand over her much smaller one and giving it a small squeeze. The touch send a wave of heat across his face and he knew he was probably already blushed to the hairline. However, he noticed, as he took some deep breaths to regain calm, it worked. Fantine's eyelids fluttered open and her eyes focused on him sleepily.

"…Monsieur Le Maire…" she whispered, her voice still hoarse after the weeks of coughing, and Jean Valjean cringed slightly at the fake title. She smiled weakly, perhaps not taking notice.

"How do you feel?"

"…better, I think…my chest does not hurt as much anymore…" she tried to laugh, but all that came out was a sad croak "And I now can breath for a change"

He nodded, as if aknowledging he was being talked to instead of responding to it. This, she noticed, probably because any sign that she could get better normaly earned an almost ecstatic reaction from him.

"Is-is something troubling you?" she asked worriedly, and suddenly wide-awake. His head seemed to sink further, as if there were a huge weight upon it. For a second, the part of himself that kept yelling that what he was doing was crazy overwhelmed him; Jean Valjean considered smiling and saying that nothing was wrong, that he was just a little tired.

"Yes" he finally admitted in an almost inaudible whisper. However, the ill have keen ears and Fantine had been ill for so long that her ears where the keenest. She tried to sit up on the bed, but her limbs where still weak.

"What is it?"

His hands were quickly upon her shoulders, holding her down. She gave him an apologetic smile with missing teeth -he forgot how to breath momentarily- and laid down again.

"...I have an important matter out of town to attend in a few hours" he started, still hesitant "…and after I attend it…well, it well may be that I cannot come see you anymore"

"Monsieur…?" she asked, her tone blank.

"I have kindly asked Sister Simplice to take care of you on my absense" he rushed out, fearing he might lose the nerve if he stopped "I have also sent Inspector Javert to retrieve your child- oh, worry not about him, he is not as bad as he seems" he immediately assured, as her expression became terrified at the mention of Javert "He may be strict, but he is, overall, a faithfull vassal of justice, and he would never harm an innocent child, especially because she is being kept from you with foul play" that, and he had half-reluctantly used Javert's guilt over having accussed his superior to have him do what he wanted without so much as a protest. May God forgive him, but he was sure the Thenardiers wouldn't dare try and stop a Police Inspector from taking the child and having him otherwise occupied while he did what had to be done was too convenient to miss "He should be close to the Thenardier's Inn by now. He'll bring her to you, safe and sound and she will be with you until you are completely cured. I have left instructions to accomodate both of you in my quarters when that happens. I have also left all rights to the factory to you, so you do not have to worry about making a living anymore, and since your health is poor, this will probably be better for you…" he searched for something else to say, but he couldn't find it, so he remained silent and looked at Fantine cautiously, studying her reaction. Her expression was as blank as her voice had been before "Fantine?" he called, alarmed.

"…Monsieur Le Maire" she started quietly and somehow hesitantly "…what is it that you have to do out of town…?"

He cringed. Precisely the one topic he'd tried to distract her from.

"It does not matter" he declared. She nooded, a sad smile gracing her lips.

"Of course you would not trust me with something so personal…" she said, as if chiding herself "I am sorry I asked- oh, worry not, I am not offended!" she added, seeing his mortified expression, giving him a tight-lipped smile "I was being nosy and I should not. There is nothing I can do for you, or even myself" she reached for him and he almost absently let his hand fall to hers, jaw set "And if there is someone upon this earth whom I can trust, that would be you"

"Don't-!" he strangled, and his tone made him turn to him. His hand left hers and he buried his head in his palms wearily "Mercy...! No more...I can do this no more...!"

"What are you saying…?" Fantine whispered, as if fearing this time it where him who was unwell.

"The truth! For once in my life" he exclaimed, almost sobbed. The rustle of the sheets as Fantine moved towards him slowly made him raise his head to find her precariously moving towards him, her movements still clumsy and drowsy after the many weeks of being bed-ridden. Reaching out for her to stabilize her, his hands met her forearms and supported her weight. She leaned on them for a moment, breathing heavily and then rose her face to see him. He could see the rivets of gold in her dark eyelashes, her worried blue eyes were set on him.

"Monsieur Le Maire…" she started.

"Jean" he corrected breathlessly "…Jean Valjean."

A short silence followed, in which the iron grasp on his heart seemed to tighten, with the risk of finally squelching it.

"…Jean" she finally called, hesitantly, as if trying a foreign word. And the sound alone broke his heart. Jean Valjean buried his face on her neck and wept until he felt like he would dry up, feeling her small, still slightly feverish hands caressing his scalp. And then, slowly, he told her the truth. All of it. The little he remembered about his life in Faverolles, how this had come to an end because he had stolen a loaf of bread, his torment, the years before his freedom was handed back to him, the incident in Digne and with little Gervais…everything. He then told her that some time ago, a man had been taken to prision under the false belief that he was Valjean, and on his hands was the power to set that innocent free. He had to go. He had to do it. Even if it meant that everything he had worked for had to be left behind. When he was finished, his head was still resting on the crook of her neck. She hadn't interrupted him, or asked anything, but then she spoke, her voice oddly calm.

"Monsieur- no...Jean"

The alluded slowly rose, the creaking of his vertebrae reminding him that he wasn't so young anymore. What he saw surprised beyond words.

Her eyes were slightly puffy, as if she had wept- she had wept for him! She had wept with him! Something akin to happiness filled him momentarily, but then he took in on another detail.

She was smiling.

Very well, now he was shocked.

"You trusted me enough to tell me all this…" she said, her eyes brimming with emotion and tears again "…even though it pained you and shamed you…" she reched out to take his hand, intertwinning her fingers with his. He stared at them, still in shock. His thick, calloused and rough fingers and her small, equally rough, but still white ones. A knot tried to tie itself around his throat and he swallowed.

"I cannot live a lie" he said "I would never be able to look at the people on this town without feeling disgust of myself. I would never be able to talk to Javert without feeling the most vile of impostors. I would never…" he choked a little, but continued "I would never be able to look at you or your sweet child and not feel ashamed of my lie… to have you think me a decent, clean human being…I simply could not. I would rather go to prision and be stripped of all honor than decieve you one minute longer" he then noticed her head was tipping to the side, her face absent. Alarm shot through him "Fantine!"

"…it is alright…my head is just spinning a little…" she muttered, laying down on the bed with slow, cautious movements. He wanted to kick himself, how could he have forgotten that she was still recovering from a grave illness?! However, she smiled again, breathing out contently "You truly come from God above, Jean"

"Nevermind that, you need to rest" he hurriedly hushed her, arranging the covers over her.

"But, please...do not turn yourself in"

His heart skipped a beat. Her voice was like the desperate instinct within him, begging him to run. But her mere sight was the mind over the matter, the knowledge that his choice was the right one, that someone like her would have made it without batting an eyelash.

"I must"

"Then wait a little. Just a little more" she stirred, as if to sit up again, and he gently placed his hand over her. Her eyes were bright and alert "…Cosette needs to meet the man who made it possible for her and me to meet again. Oh, please say you will stay until she is here, Jean"

"It is impossible" he croaked "The trial for that innocent man is in two days. I must be there before he is sentenced"

"But Jean..." she let out a little laugh, still hissing slightly at the strain "Odd, is it not? An hour ago I did not know your name and now I cannot stop saying it..."

"It would probably be better for you to pretend to have never learned it..."

"Does it bother you, to be called by your real name?" a worried line furrowed her brow.

"No" he admitted, his cheeks tinting the slightest "...not in your mouth"

"Then, Jean, please pay heed to this mouth when it begs you to stay!"

"And I am begging you to have mercy on this lowly thief!" he all but sobbed out "I have already battled with myself over it. One second I convinced myself that I would stay and the next that I would go. I am scared, I am terrified at the sole idea of going back...of being swallowed by darkness again, of losing myself to it like I already have once...already the temptation to forget all of it and stay is too great! Please, you are noble and self-less, tell me. What would you do in my place?"

She remained silent, staring at him pensively and -dare he think it?- full of admiration. It was as though his confession, rather than disgust her, had made him dearer to her eyes.

"I do not know" she finally whispered "Perhaps I am not as grand as you see me. But you are even more than I had thought"

Again, his heart took a leap as though ready to leave his body through his throat, but he swallowed and continued, his tone calmer.

"I must part tonight or all is lost for the poor wretch sitting in my chair"

She sighed, a deep sound full of grief, but nodded, comprehensive. Her hand grasped his with a strength he wouldn't have suspected of her.

"Then...at the very least, promise me you will come back"

"It is impossible" he said once again.

"You do this to save an innocent man" she insisted "Once you have confessed, he will be saved. What you do after that will not affect anyone else"

"True as it may be, what good would there be in coming back and being aprehended in front of you and your child?"

She shuddered at the sole idea, wringing her hands, but her eyes fixed on his, determinated.

"We could leave together"

He froze in place at her words, wide eyes scanning her in search for any sign that her delirium was back. There was none.

"No" he snapped, almost horrorized "No, Fantine, do not ask me that. You and her deserve the light and the freedom I cannot have. You will have them here"

"Well, I do not want it!" she argued, trying to sit up again. He caught her by the shoulders and softly pushed her down onto the bed again "I do not want it if it is at the cost of your own! And Jean, you are wrong if you think, for a moment, that I will be accepted as owner of your factory after having walked the streets of this city at night for a living. No, the only reason no one has come drag me into the mud again is you!"

"Do not say that..." he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose, but he had to admit to himself she held a point. The people of Montreuil-Sur-Mer had seen her sink in undignity and misery without so much as lifting a finger to help her, despite knowing all she did was to save her child. What was to stop them from doing the same after he were gone? From deeming her unfit of what he had left for her? From tossing her out, child and all, into the street? Surely, the nuns would do what they could for her, but there was only so much they could do to help and so much they could protect her from.

"There is nothing in this city for me without you" Fantine added, grasping him almost desesperatedly. And he bent, because he had the certainty that once the truth reached town, few would stay loyal to him and none as loyal as her, who knew his woes. Seeing it under that light, wasn't her all he had, wasn't him all she had? Was it fair to keep two beings so deeply tied by fate appart?

"I promise" he uttered, with a breath that was in equal parts relief and resignation, much to her glee.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she made a pause and then squeezed his hand softly "Can you come closer? I have something else I need to say"

He complied, almost mindlessly, but in a sudden, perhaps desperate muster of her strenght, she incorporated and threw her arms around his neck, dragging him to her. To say he was shocked would have been an underestatement; he barely had the mind to support himself on the bed not to come crushing over her.

"…thank you…for telling me the truth! For trusting so much in me...and for granting my selfish wish -oh, I am so happy!" her arms slid off slowly as she lay herself down slowly and with care "Now I made myself dizzy. But I had to thank you somehow…please, do not look so worried, I shall not die now that I have you and my child" carefully, he arranged the covers over her. She seemed radiant, despite her still pale colors and protuberating cheekbones. The strength to cling to life shone in her and he could take pride in having a hand on it now. Emotion once again gathered in his throat. Her hand hadn't released his.

"Jean…Jean Valjean" Fantine suddenly muttered, as if half asleep. Her eyelids were already heavy "That name seems kind…no, it is a kind name. Because it is yours"

"You are sleeptalking" he hushed her.

"A little. Let me be..." she sighed, her eyes finally closing. He stared at her as sleep slowly un-tensed her limbs and gave her face a paceful expression before kissing the course knuckles of her white hand timidly and laying it on the bed. The doctor and nuns saw a pensive, grave man leave the room and saw the same man come back a day or two later, after Javert had promptly dropped the child in the infirmary, bags in tow.

By the time word reached town that Monsieur Le Maire was not who everyone thought, they were already far away.

C.C (a) the Author here.

I have no excuse for this except that I really, really wanted her to live and them to become a family.

Comments are welcome