A/N: Now that all the pieces are in place...let's fast forward.

Chapter 11: The Specter Changes Form

Following this, matters fell into place well enough such that for a time there were hardly any events for the newly arrived quartet at the Estrapade. Mabeuf found a situation for Jean Valjean assisting him at Saint-Sulpice, while Fantine surprised everyone by acquiring a place at a milliner in the neighbourhood of Rue Val de Grace. Cosette became known as Euphrasie Fabre, and in due time she came to work alongside her mother at the shop. In the meantime, the little Thenardier boy was called Victor Fabre. Despite all of this, Zephine, Bahorel, and the Thenardier sisters still insisted on referring to them as Cosette and Gavroche, respectively. The purported Fabres lived easily this way for a number of years; the younger two were carefree, while the older pair was somewhat content for as long they remained unnoticed by certain elements.

The year 1830 brought about several unwelcome changes: Mabeuf's brother, the cure at Vernon, passed away in his sleep one June day. Owing to grief and a number of other crises, Mabeuf let go of his home at the Rue Mesieries and his duties as the warden of Saint-Sulpice. "I'd hand them to you, my friend, but a warden must be seen while his assistant may be hidden. I know it does not suit you," he told Jean Valjean by way of apology when he visited the Fabres at the Estrapade.

"I understand," Jean Valjean said solemnly. "In fact it would have been impossible for me to accept."

This had been said in Fantine's hearing, and thus she was greatly perturbed. After dinner she pulled him aside. "What do you mean by impossible?" she demanded.

"We cannot hide in this way for much longer," Jean Valjean said. "Look to the children."

This was enough to convince Fantine; it was becoming too difficult to house all four of them in a single room now that Cosette and Victor were both growing tall. Old Fauchelevent was gone too, and there was no one to vouch for them or provide succour. "What shall we do?" she asked.

"Remove," Jean Valjean said resignedly. "No one can remember the man of Saint-Sulpice."

It was decided. In a fortnight the Fabres removed to the quieter environs of the Rue Plumet. It was just as well, for the violent tempers of that July sent several bullets through the apartments at the Estrapade, thus forcing the last holdouts of the place including Zephine and Bahorel to seek lodgings elsewhere in the Latin Quartier.

One early afternoon just after lunch, about a year and a half since the Fabres settled at the Rue Plumet, Fantine happened to be knitting a shawl by the warmth of the small fireplace. Jean Valjean and Victor were in the back of the house making some repairs, all the while engaged in some quiet conversation. Fantine found herself smiling at this familiar hubbub; had it not been for young Victor, the rest of the family would probably pass days or weeks in near-silence. In the depths of her reverie, she almost did not notice when another figure entered the room. "What are you up to, Cosette?" she asked.

"Only a little sewing, Maman," Cosette said as she daintily set down her sewing basket as well as a handkerchief she'd been hemming. At sixteen going on seventeen, she was very far removed from that gawky child who'd left Montreuil-sur-mer. She had grown quite fair and enchanting, with rich brown hair that she wore in ringlets, lush lips that curved into a pure and sweet smile, and a profile that could put any of the Graces to shame. Her dark blue eyes were pensive but keen, often making her seem more gay than dreamy. "That shawl would look beautiful on you, Maman," she remarked.

"It's not for me. It's for the basket at the church of Saint Jacques du Haut Pas," Fantine replied. Some of the concerned parishioners took up a regular collection of old and new clothes to distribute to the beggars and rag-pickers of the area. Fantine's sense of refinement was now combined with an eye for economy, and thus she was sure that this shawl, as well as other garments she had previously sewn for this effort, would be greatly appreciated.

Cosette nodded as she began to thread her needle. Her fine fingers made easy work of embroidery, and in a matter of minutes the beginnings of a monogram graced a corner of the handkerchief. "I remember there were hardly enough things to give out on Christmas day," she said at length.

"It has not been a good year," Fantine murmured. For a moment her mind's eye had a terrible vision of her own hands pricked and scarred, while Cosette shivered and grew thin in this inclement weather. 'How many times we've come so close to that all those years ago!' she thought.

Before Cosette could tie off the thread, two rapid knocks sounded on the front door. "I know who that is," Cosette said as she set aside her sewing and quickly walked into the front hall. "Hello Eponine! Why are you walking about alone?"

Fantine smiled in an effort to hide her worry when she saw the older Thenardier girl kicking off a pair of oversized and leaky shoes. Over the past years the Thenardier family had simply moved from one domestic misadventure to another, leaving behind a trail of abandoned lodgings, unpaid rent, and two more little sons that Mme. Thenardier had seemingly palmed off on another acquaintance. In such conditions, the young girls could only struggle to grow. Eponine now stood a few inches higher than Cosette, but she had also been imbued with a lankiness that was painfully emphasized by her ragged blouse and skirt. Her auburn hair was long and wavy, and easily tangled thanks to the inclement weather. She was tanned, with chapped lips and rough hands, but her dark brown eyes were bright with a wild vivacity that also showed through her raspy laughter.

Nevertheless Eponine still maintained some semblance of manners. "Good day Madame Fantine," she greeted as she rubbed her reddened fingers. "Oh I must sit by that fire for a moment!"

"No, stay as long as you need to," Fantine said. "Are you alone?"

Eponine nodded. "Papa is out; I'm running a bit of an errand for him."

"What about your mother and your sister?" Fantine asked.

Eponine shrugged. "They're at home. They're fine, Madame Fantine," she said.

"That's good. You girls can chat while I get something warm for all of us to drink," Fantine said as she got up to put the kettle on the stove in the kitchen as well as to fetch a little white bread. The latter was quite dear in price, but she could not abide the idea of either Cosette or Victor grinding their fine teeth on black bread.

As she cut some pieces of bread, she heard Victor hurrying in. "Are we having dinner early, Maman?" he asked in astonishment.

"No, we have a visitor," Fantine said as she craned her neck to look up at the boy fondly. At twelve, Victor was only beginning to attain a great height, but it was already evident that he had more hope of filling out nicely, or at least better than his sister was faring. He was cheery and impetuous, with a habit of wearing his reddish hair creeping down over his ears. He had recently been given an old pocket watch, and he prided on always having it showing over the top of his fob.

Victor cocked his head to listen to the chatter from the adjoining room. "It's only Eponine. Is Azelma with her?"

Fantine shook her head before cutting another slice for Victor and handing it to him. "Where is your grandfather?"

"Out at the back lodge," Victor replied. "He's still fixing something there."

"He'd better not take too long," Fantine said as she picked up two slices of bread and headed out across the narrow courtyard behind the house towards a squat building that was meant to be a porter's lodge. She sighed on seeing the darkened windows; for reasons that they always argued about, Jean Valjean insisted on sleeping here yet never kept a fire in these apartments. She knocked once on the door. "It's only Fantine."

Jean Valjean opened the door immediately. "Is everything well, Fantine?" he asked as he let her in.

"In the house, yes," Fantine said as she handed him a slice of bread. "Why don't you put a fire in here, or better yet, come inside the house?"

Jean Valjean sighed kindly. "I am accustomed to this."

Fantine shook her head. "Being accustomed to something doesn't always mean it's good for someone," she pointed out. She had to admit that Jean Valjean was stronger than most men his age, perhaps even stronger than most men as a whole. He was largely unchanged from their days at the Estrapade: his white hair showed no sign of thinning, his hands were steady, and his mind as sharp as ever, but Fantine knew better than to remain wholly confident in that fact. "I heated up some water in the kitchen. Will that convince you to come in then?"

"For a little while," he said before following her back towards the main house. He smiled proudly as he gestured to the newly laid paving stones that formed a path in the yard. "Victor took charge of laying these out."

"He's quick. Maybe he doesn't like books as much as Cosette does but nothing escapes his notice," Fantine agreed as they went into the kitchen. "I always worry we aren't doing enough for him, or even for Cosette. We've taught them to read, write, do sums and some other useful things, but it's not entirely enough for them to get on, or for Victor to get to the Sorbonne one day."

Jean Valjean nodded pensively. "We cannot send either of them away to school. It would not do to have a tutor come here, or to have a full time governess."

"Maybe we can find someone who can take them on for lessons during the day," Fantine suggested a little wistfully as she poured out two glasses of hot water for them. 'Some steady old gentleman who can be patient enough to teach Victor philosophy, and a fine lady who can teach Cosette about dancing and music,' she thought. Yet where could such individuals be found, and even so, could they be trusted to remain discreet? "I'd ask Bahorel; he's a dear and Victor likes him very much but he's always at some business of his," she said.

"Perhaps he would know someone at the university," Jean Valjean suggested. He paused to take a sip of his drink. "What about Mabeuf?"

"Maybe. We can visit him at the Austerlitz and ask," Fantine said more brightly. "As for Cosette, well I know that Zephine and I can teach her, but it's not very much. And ever since Zephine stopped sewing, she's been a little peevish."

"You are hoping for someone like Sister Simpllice was," Jean Valjean said thoughtfully.

"Yes. Like her," Fantine replied, feeling a pang at the mention of their old friend. 'How is she doing after all this time? Is she well?' she wondered. It had been impossible to write back to Montreuil-sur-mer, for one misplaced letter would doom them all. 'Yet there was nothing in the way of obituaries, ever, or Monsieur Valjean would have said so,' she reminded herself even as she heard Cosette's footsteps approaching the kitchen. "What is it, darling?" she asked her daughter.

"Maman, Grandfather, may Victor and I go with Eponine to the Luxembourg?" Cosette asked, clasping her hands in a sweet and cajoling attitude. "It's only for a short promenade and we'll wrap up well against the cold, I promise!"

Fantine sighed as she looked outside; the afternoon was bright for January but the wind was brisk. 'Surely it can't do any harm,' she decided. "Would you mind if we went with you?"

Cosette shook her head. "I'd like you to."

"Truly?" Jean Valjean said incredulously.

Cosette smiled. "We can go by Saint-Germain. There are lovely things I saw there. It's almost your birthday Maman, and you should have something. It's nearly also the Feast of the Three Kings, Grandfather, and we ought to be cheery."

"Let's go then," Fantine said, smiling at the thought of an unexpected shopping trip. She sighed as she heard Cosette race upstairs, presumably to get ready for their walk. "Monsieur Valjean, it's only for a bit of a walk. You know how much this means to Cosette and how much she hates being inside nowadays," she whispered.

"It's funny; last year when we'd suggest going on promenades, she'd want to go home right away," Jean Valjean pointed out.

Fantine shrugged. "You can go as a bourgeois grandfather, I'll go as a modest little matron, and no one will ask questions," she said. This was the most maddening facet about their enforced secrecy; they never could go out for long, and even so they never dared to act their ages or proper stations. 'Even in old days, Felix never used to hide me so!' she thought petulantly. Sometimes, she wondered how it would be to speak to Jean Valjean differently, perhaps to drop the pretence that he was her relative. 'Does he ever wonder about that same thing too?' she couldn't help asking herself.

Jean Valjean finished his drink of water before speaking again. "There have been several riots in the past month alone. Matters are playing out too dangerously again, Fantine," he said concernedly. "It's not just for Cosette I worry for now, but Victor."

"He has you to keep him safe."

"Yes, but I am an old man, and he will look to his friends more."

"But he will always come home to us, emeute or no," Fantine insisted. She clasped Jean Valjean's arm. "We cannot keep him inside forever, no more than we can shut away Cosette from her friends. I cannot look after him alone then, not with those two girls to watch out for!"

Jean Valjean was silent for a few moments before he clasped her hand in return. "I will be ready in a few minutes," he said a little more cheerily.

"There that wasn't such a bad thing!" Fantine said more light-heartedly before going to her own chamber on the second floor, beside Cosette's room. Victor had a room on the ground floor, and was perfectly willing to give it up in favor of the attic if Jean Valjean wanted to sleep in the house, but the old man refused this offer. 'It isn't right that he does a great deal for us, and yet won't be cared for very much,' she thought as she found a warm cape and a pretty bonnet adorned with a single flower to go with her pink day dress. 'I'm no longer that young and shouldn't be too showy,' she reminded herself even as she heard Cosette and Eponine's laughter and chatter from the next room.

When Fantine headed downstairs, Jean Valjean and Victor were already waiting in the front room. "There, we only have half an hour to wait," Victor said as he tapped his pocket watch. "Each lady takes a quarter," he explained cheekily to Jean Valjean and Fantine.

"Some dandies are even worse, you imp!" Eponine protested as she and Cosette hurried down the stairs. Eponine had thrown on a green velvet cape simply to conceal her worn garments, but had her long hair pinned up in knots. "I'm too long for everything else," she said as she shoved her feet back in the shoes she had on earlier.

'Someone should take her and Azelma to a good modiste,' Fantine thought, but she knew better than to suggest this outright to Eponine. In the meantime she glanced at Cosette, who was adjusting her own purple attire. "We'll have to be back before dark," she reminded her as she helped her tie her cape.

Cosette nodded. "We don't plan to dally anyway, just to look."

Fantine heard Victor scoff audibly at this. 'It's never just looking,' she thought, but she bit her tongue as they walked out the door. There was never a way after all to explain this womanly pastime.

It was not a day for a meandering stroll, so their little party went by the quickest way possible first to Saint-Germain, where they made a few purchases, and then they went to the park. Cosette and Victor endeavoured to be cheery so as to make Jean Valjean laugh as they kept in step with him. Eponine was silent, neither in happy reverie nor in serious contemplation. Fantine then lagged behind the merry trio, in an effort to draw the younger girl aside.

Eponine noticed this and gave Fantine a sharp look. "You need not concern yourself with me."

"I've known you since you were only about that high," Fantine reminded her. "Where is your family staying?"

"In the neighbourhood of the Salpetriere," Eponine replied with a diffident shrug. "I don't s'pose you know that quarter."

"I've hardly ever been there," Fantine admitted. "How long have you been there?"

"A week, two maybe," Eponine said. She rubbed her hands before hiding them in the folds of her borrowed cape. "Sometimes I think it's warmer when I'm running about outside instead of staying especially when there's no fire. I'd like to have at least a candle so I could see a little, but it's impossible to really have one since it's so damp. Yesterday Maman found another hole in our blanket. Papa was so angry that it didn't cover his feet."

Fantine shuddered at this sketch. "If there's anything that Monsieur Fabre and I can do for you-"

Eponine laughed mirthlessly. "You can help but that doesn't mean we'll take it," she said before walking ahead to catch up with Cosette.

Fantine bit the inside of her cheek as she quickened her steps to keep up with Jean Valjean. That old foreboding was there once again, and somehow she figured she could only banish it if she spoke to Lisette Thenardier. 'That will mean going into that quarter,' she realized with a shudder. But if she could go into the area of the Austerlitz to speak to Mabeuf on behalf of her two young ones, perhaps she could take a detour for a former companion.

They stayed at the Luxembourg for around two hours, by which time the clouds were beginning to hide the sun, making the chilly air that much deeper. Fantine rubbed her aching fingertips in an effort to keep them warm even as she noticed Victor sitting on his hands and the two girls huddling close. "There's a cafe near here to get warm," she suggested, remembering a little bit of her old strolls in the area.

"What cafe?" Cosette asked.

"I'm not sure what the name is, but I think it's in the area of the Rue de Gres," Fantine said, pointing towards the east end of the promenade.

Eponine tapped her feet. "Hmm, that's not very far off."

"Now I'm hungry," Victor said, rubbing his stomach.

Jean Valjean nodded as he adjusted his hat. "Perhaps we can stay for a little while," he concurred as he offered his arm to Fantine.

Fantine couldn't hide her victorious smile as she slipped her arm around Jean Valjean's elbow. She saw Victor impishly squeeze himself between Cosette and Eponine, making a show of looping his arms around theirs. Fantine laughed, feeling almost as giddy as she did on many a spring day sixteen or so years ago. She wondered if any of the people they passed in the street may have been acquaintances from those long gone days, and if somehow she would be recognized. 'What would they say if they saw me now?' she thought, feeling a sudden rush of contentment.

They exited the park onto the Place Saint-Michel, which was bustling with hawkers and beggars hassling carriages or occasionally the better dressed pedestrians. There was a little cafe on the side of the square abutting the Rue de Gres. A couple of police officers were smoking near the entrance. "Are you joining the party in there?" one of them called to Fantine.

"No, only stopping in," Fantine replied dismissively as they squeezed into the cafe entrance and found seats in a far corner. The front room was packed with students, workingmen, and grisettes, so much that a trio of young men had decided to exit via a back door. A group of students, or at least they seemed to be judging by the huge tomes stacked up on the table in front of them, were involved in an intense discussion. Others were drinking, playing card games, flirting with the pretty girls, or talking loudly about a variety of subjects.

"Look at those, probably came straight from the Necker or some hospital," Victor muttered as he pointed to some young men walking by the cafe. "They practically smell of it."

"How would you know?" Cosette asked. "Oh dear, one of them has a skull..." she said, pointing to a round shape tucked under one of the rascals' arms.

"There's Monsieur Bahorel!" Eponine whispered, pointing to where their brash friend was sauntering by amid a group of elegantly dressed fellows. "Wonder if he'll stop in here?"

"It's rude to point," Fantine admonished. She watched quietly as Bahorel simply walked past the cafe and went in the general direction of the Rue de Gres. 'Probably has some business with those friends,' she decided as she listened to Jean Valjean give instructions to the server, who returned after a few minutes with some coffee and bread.

As Fantine sipped her drink, she noticed that the cafe did not seem to get any more crowded than when they entered. Now and then a man or two left, usually by the front door though there were a few who departed via the passage at the back. One young dandy in the group of students cracked a raucous joke with his companions as he scooped up a fine hat then sauntered out through this rear doorway. A couple of minutes later a taller, handsome student with golden hair also stood up from this group and clasped his seatmates' shoulders before making a more solemn exit through the front door and then heading in the direction of the Rue de Gres.

"I've seen some of these smooth faces about," Victor snickered. "Not bad with muskets; they didn't shoot themselves in the feet in that argument with Charles the Tenth!"

"Careful with that talk," Jean Valjean warned.

"I've seen them all before! They are comrades," Victor pointed out.

'And would have run out to join them if we hadn't shut the doors,' Fantine thought with a shudder. Those had been terrible days, during which she lay awake listening for musket fire and marching in the streets, afraid that at any moment a bullet would shatter the windows and injure the youngsters, or that their house would be stormed for some reason or another. She knew she was not the only mother to breathe a sigh of relief on hearing of the Duc d'Orleans' taking the reins. 'Never again, God, please!' she prayed silently.

It was at that moment that she saw a thin figure, clearly a gamin, darting across the Place Saint-Michel, only to be stopped by a burly policeman alighting from a fiacre. A shout came from the area of the Rue de Gres as still more gendarmes approached the door of the cafe. "The windows! Everyone out through the windows!" a panicked girl shrieked as footsteps sounded from elsewhere in the cafe.

"On the floor and under the table, all of you!" Jean Valjean muttered. Fantine lost no time in dropping to her knees and moving so as to hide Cosette from view as the other customers began fleeing the premises. Eponine was attempting valiantly to keep Victor from jumping up and joining the commotion, and only succeeded when Jean Valjean helped her keep a grip on the boy.

Suddenly someone pushed aside the table such that it very nearly crashed into the wall. "Go out through the side window!" Bahorel hissed. "I'll provide a diversion!"

"What-"Fantine gasped a mere moment before their friend and some other young men bounded towards where a gendarme had just barged into the cafe. Before she could leap to her feet and follow her companions, something crashed into her and she fell hard against a table. Through the haze of pain she heard a shriek and she looked up to see a policeman cornering Cosette against the corner nearest the doorway.

"Get away from her!" Fantine shouted as she jumped up and shoved the gendarme away from her daughter. "Cosette, go now!"

"Maman-"Cosette cried out before a grisette practically bundled her out of the cafe door. "Maman, look out!"

Before Fantine could dash after them, a pair of gendarmes seized her by her arms and dragged her to the center of the room. She kicked and screamed until one of the men roughly covered her mouth with his hand. "Let go of me!" she yelled as she twisted away from his grip.

"That will depend if you cooperate, Madame," a stocky man in an inspector's uniform growled as he entered the cafe. He looked around the room, which was now a confusion of overturned tables, shattered glasses, and abandoned books. "Where are the others?" he barked.

"Still running about, Inspector Perrot," one exhausted gendarme wheezed. "Damned buggers must have heard we were coming!"

The inspector gritted his teeth before looking at Fantine. "Where did you tell the girl to go?"

"Home. Please, don't do anything to her. She's my daughter, we were just passing through to get warm, we didn't know what was happening here," Fantine said, fighting to keep calm even as she saw that Jean Valjean, Cosette, Victor, and Eponine were all nowhere in sight. 'If they saw the others go, we're lost,' she realized, and so she bit her lip lest she betray them.

"A likely story!" the inspector barked.

Fantine fell to her knees and grasped the inspector's feet. "I swear we had nothing to do with the trouble. You have to let us go," she begged. "Please, I'll do anything."

The inspector looked down at her. "Anything?"

Fantine managed a nod. 'If only to give them time to get away, or think of how to explain all of this,' she thought as she struggled to her feet and braced for yet another round of questions.