Authoressial Note: I'm baaaaaaaaaack! Betcha missed me huh? Yeah? ...No? Awww. So sad. WELL, anyway, after numerous distractions and a cold, I have returned. I EXPECT CONFETTI. Unless the only paper you have at hand is of great importance, a.k.a essays and whatnot, in which case, you are exempt from the confetti-showering. EVERYONE ELSE, the shredder's over there.

I regret to inform you all that this is the last chapter of RISTI - but don't worry, guys! THERE IS AN EPILOGUE COMING! So please don't kill me. (Ducks behind sofa anyway) Better safe than sorry.

Disclaimer: IT'S ALL HUGO'S. Except for the plot. And Adrian. And anyone/anything else original... oh, you guys know what I'm talking about. Go read the story. Does anyone really even read the disclaimers? That's kind of sad, I put effort into these things. Oh well. (Sigh)

-.-Valjean's POV-.-

I raced alongside the river, endeavouring to keep Javert and Adrian in sight as best I could. The water was too fast for me, though, and by the time I found the fallen tree where Adrian was situated, Javert was long gone.

"What's wrong? What is it? Where is Javert?" I asked the boy, who was sobbing.

"H-he-he's gone," Adrian cried. "The river washed him away. He told me t-to tell you that – that he tried, and that h-h-he's sorry!" He inhaled hysterically. "A-a-and something about it being better…"

Never had I been so angry, not even in my days as a bitter and hardened convict. Black words formed on my tongue, but I refrained from speaking such violent expletives aloud in front of a small child.

"Antoine." His eyes widened at my tone. "Go back to the bridge. Your father is waiting there."

"But -"

"GO." And then I myself was gone, running hard and fast.

Finally I came to a bend in the river that had several large boulders in it. A dark shape was draped across one of these, and I recognized it with a shout of relief.

"JAVERT!"

Without waiting for a response, I plunged into the water and was met with an involuntary shiver. It was frigid. But that didn't stop me from wading in up to my waist, grabbing the inspector's body, and carrying him back to shore.

I laid him gently down on the ground and knelt beside him. "Javert," I demanded, tears shimmering in my eyes, "be alive."

My hand in front of his mouth revealed what I had feared – he wasn't breathing. I very nearly panicked, but managed to calm myself and begin to perform the proper medical procedure. After several minutes of trying to revive him with no response, however, I did succumb to panic and did the only other thing I could think of.

"Blast it, man," I shouted with the restraint of someone who has spent a great deal of their recent past not swearing, "WAKE UP!"

The palm of my hand connected solidly with his face. Before I knew what had happened, Javert was half-sitting up, propped up on one of his hands while the other clutched my wrist in a painfully tight grasp.

Then his face went white, and he rolled over and expunged the water in his system.

When he was finished, he took several deep breaths, then spoke with venom in his tone. "You realize that you are now guilty of assaulting a police officer."

"Don't be silly," I said, the ridiculously happy tone of my voice revealing how relieved I was to have him back. "I didn't assault you, I saved your life." Suddenly, as he managed to pull himself into a sitting position, I remembered what Antoine had told me.

"What was that you told Antoine about your death being better?" I snarled. He actually leaned back slightly, his eyes flickering with something I didn't recognize nor care about. "You are INSANE if you think that way! If you STILL think that way! When will you learn, man? When will you learn how much life has still to give you? When will you learn that there are actually people that care about you? When will you care that there are people who care about you?"

His eyes fluttered shut. "Too much caring."

I was disgusted with him. "We're not done here," I growled, and got to my feet, grabbing him by the upper arm in an attempt to help him up.

My disgust instantly turned to surprise and alarm as he let out a scream – horribly uncharacteristic of the Javert I knew so well – and pulled away. "What is it, Javert? What's -" I broke off as I noticed the blood. All the blood. Too much blood, staining his shirtsleeve and dripping from my hand.

"Dear God," I breathed, a fervent prayer for it not to be true. "He shot you."

He cursed, his other hand coming up to cover the horribly injury on his upper arm. "I'm SO glad that you are here, Valjean, offering your helpful insight and observations."

"It's horrible." He had obviously strained the injury – the blood was literally gushing from it, like a fountain. I could have kicked myself for not noticing before. "Oh, Javert."

"Don't take that pitying tone with me, I am NOT your charity case." He tried to get to his feet and nearly fell over. I caught him. "Let me… go…" His eyes fluttered shut again.

"No, Javert, no. You need to stay awake." I couldn't quite remember why, but it was important. "You need to – JAVERT!" I shook him. A whimper of pain emerged from his lips. I was horrified – such lack of self-control meant that something was seriously wrong. "No, please, stay with me – stay awake -" I thought of the rocks I had found him on. "Javert, you've lost a great deal of blood and in addition you may have struck your head. You may have a concussion. Javert!" I could see that I was losing him. "Javert, do you WANT to die?!"

I was not expecting his answer. "Yes."

Had the man not been in extremely bad shape, I fear I may have struck him. "No, you do not," I contradicted his chilling statement. "Now I'm going to go get help – you need to not move and STAY AWAKE."

His only response was a faint murmur. I propped him up against a nearby tree, hoping that the seated position would help to keep him awake. Then I ran back towards the bridge, towards HELP, like my life depended on it – no. Like HIS life did.

-.-Javert's POV-.-

I could hear the rushing of water. I was sitting against something hard. I tried to make myself more comfortable.

Searing, awful pain shot through my shoulder. I tried to stifle a cry of pain but couldn't, which filled me with a sense of deep self-loathing. I hated showing emotion, I hated whimpering like a puppy.

I wanted to open my eyes, but my head was throbbing and I knew that if I opened them the light which was inevitably on the other side would make the pain grow worse.

I wanted to give up. Everything that had driven me up to that point, all of my beliefs, my morals, my determination, it all fell away and I just wanted to GIVE UP. And I would have, if not for a nagging feeling that someone, someone in charge, had told me not to. Someone had told me to stay awake. And if one thing remained with me, it was my ingrained determination to obey authority at all costs. If not for that, I would have succumbed to the feeling of overwhelming exhaustion. Closed eyes would have been closed, not out of fear of pain, but out of slumber. A terribly, terribly inviting slumber.

But I knew I couldn't. So I sat and counted the time in my head. Second by second. Minute by minute. Five. Ten. Fifteen. I was in danger of falling asleep from sheer boredom, so I tried to remember how I had ended up in this situation.

I remembered jumping… swimming… a tree… Antoine. Hm. Water, freezing cold rushing water, all around.

"There he is!"

I recognized the voice. It was Valjean. I remembered now; he was the one who had told me to stay awake. I regretted my decision to obey. Since when did I take orders from ex-convicts? Or convicts of any type?

Hands grabbed me and pulled me onto a stretcher. I wanted to cry out at the pain, but I couldn't – I wouldn't - #. I did. Instantly, Valjean's voice.

"It's alright Javert. We're going to take you to a hospital. You're going to be fine."

A hospital…?

I must have said it aloud. "Yes, Javert. A hospital. You're very badly injured. You need to stay awake, alright? Can you talk?"

24601.

"Ye-e-es. That's good. Do you remember anything after you rescued Antoine?"

My mind was wandering. Suddenly I noticed the tone of Valjean's voice. It was… deeper than usual. Got high-pitched in places. Sounded… thick. A thought dawned. Was he actually worried about me?

"Of COURSE I'm worried about you!"

Huh. That was stupid of him. As I thought things over, I had come to the conclusion that I deserved what I was currently experiencing. I had gone into the situation unarmed, unprepared, carelessly and without sufficient thought or planning. I had then proceeded to be emotional and reckless, rather than cold and calculating. I had brought this down on my own head.

"V… Val…"

"What is it, Javert?"

I tried to collect my thoughts. "We… got him. Oui?"

"Oui. He is dead."

The idiot. He should have let the police handle things eight years ago. None of this would have happened then…

"Javert? Javert! No, no, don't go to sleep, you can't, not yet, JAVERT!"

He sounded panicked. I wondered why. Really, I was just going to take a little nap. It wasn't like I wouldn't wake up.

"JAVERT!!!"

A3: (Fwips hand up) Yo. In case you skipped the Authoressial Note at the top there, this is officially the last CHAPTER of RISTI. But before you throw rocks and tomatoes, let it be known that there IS an EPILOGUE! YAY! Right? Yeah. YAY!

Enjolras: You mean it's OVER??!

A3: Yeap, almost. And I can only hope that I managed to live up to everyone's expectations. I certainly TRIED.

Enjolras: Yeah... well... ya did good, kid. (Tousles hair)

A3: You can only get away with doing that because you're bigger than I am. Of course, that doesn't mean that I couldn't beat you up if I WANTED to... but you're actually not being a whiny brat for once, so I'll let it slide.

Enjolras: (Shoves hands in pockets) WELL FORGET IT, I was TRYING to be nice but if you're just going to be all smart-alecky about it...

A3: See, there you go again. The Whiny Apollo.

Enjolras: I HATE YOU.

A3: Good, you're back to normal. Everyone was wondering what was wrong with you.

Enjolras: Shut up.

A3: No. And watch what you say to me, I'm still contagious. I WILL breathe on you.

Enjolras: Aren't you supposed to be wearing one of those face masks? To stop the spread of germs?

A3: (Shifty eyes) Um. No.

Enjolras: AHA! You're breaking the LAW!

A3: Am not! It isn't a LAW, anyway! It's just a recommendation! You know, do unto others...

Enjolras: I'll remember that if I ever write a story. Then YOU can be the one under MY control.

A3: Oh, quit whining. You won the Kitchen Wars, didn't you?

Enjolras: Yes, and in return, YOU took all my Amis away.

A3: They left on their own accord. Stuff to do back in their time period.

Enjolras: Which is also MY time period, yet you don't see ME going anywhere, do you?

A3: Relax. Your clone is busy doing all your schoolwork for you.

Enjolras: (Shrieks) MY WHAT??!?!!

A3: For conveniency's sake only, Enj-face, conveniency's sake. He'll disappear when you return. And he won't start any revolutions without you, promise. Now be a good boy and ask for reviews.

Enjolras: Does GRANTAIRE know it's a clone? Does my clone know Grantaire??!

A3: Will you CUT IT OUT? Worrying makes your skin freckle. Or something. Now, REVIEWS! (Poke)

Enjolras: Someone rescue me, I need to go back to my time period RIGHT NOW! Before my clone starts trying to reform Grantaire or something, and being NICE to him...!!!

A3: Dude. It's your CLONE. You DO know the definition of "clone," do you not?

Enjolras: AHHHHH!!!

A3: Okay, the pretty-boy is having a meltdown, so please drop a review while I try to calm him down with cookies and milk. We shall shortly return to our regularly scheduled programming. (Waves goodbye)