Author's Note: Howdy! To everyone who's been reviewing and reading this story, I'd just like to extend a huge thank you. You guys have really kept me motivated to finish this and writing this story has really been fun. I'm not positive but I'm pretty sure there won't be more than five chapters left. Let me know if you like it, the writers' block started plaguing me again towards the end of this chapter but I really hope it's still okay. Thanks again and I really hope it's to your liking :)

ALSO to answer some past questions: I'm going to keep which Javert I was thinking a secret (unless you guessed already) because I think that's it's more fun to imagine whichever one you want :) And also, there was no 'engagement story' because that whole thing in the park basically was their engagement. Cause y'know, they're awkward with love and shit. Thanks for your continued reviews and patience! :)

"Log today's date please."

Monsieur Vipond's words had no effect on the young secretary, whose eyes were glazed over as he stared at the ceiling dreamily.

The older man reached over and rapped the boy sharply on the head. "Honestly, what's the use of a son that doesn't pay attention to his own father when he gets him a job?"

"Sorry, sir, sorry." The younger Vipond muttered, straightening himself and dipping the quill into a bottle of ink. "Erm… what's the date?"

"For Godssakes, boy."

Situations like this were the reason Javert disapproved of familial connections getting people places. Goodness only knows how many inept officers had been placed under his command because of some high-ranking father or uncle or another.

"The second of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and thirty-two." Javert supplanted.

"Ah, see? There's a man who pays attention." Vipond gestured towards Javert. "Now then, if we're all here let's just get through the attendance. Are you recording this, Max?"

"Yes, Fath- Monsieur Prefect."

"Good. Present and in attendance: Paris Prefect Vipond, Inspecteur Général Javert, Colonel-General Minard, Contrôleur General Tibodeau, and… General Lamarque is still ill?"

"Yes, I sent one of my servants to check in on him this morning." Minard interjected. "They didn't allow him in, but I was told that the cholera has begun to rapidly affect him. He won't last out the week." At this, the men around the mahogany desk grew silent for a brief moment, bowing their heads in response to the dark knowledge that even someone as high up as Jean Lamarque could succumb to the disease that had been plaguing the wretches in the gutters.

How fitting, Javert thought grimly, the man who fought so hard for the lower classes was now cut down to their level, dying of their sickness.

Never forget that you could have ended down there if the law had not saved you, a voice hissed in his ear.

"Begin the log of today's meeting, then." Vipond said, folding his hands and assuming a businesslike pose. "Now then, Javert- how many arrests were made this week?"

"One hundred and ninety-seven, sir."

"And of those, how many were indicted?"

"One hundered and forty-nine, sir."

"Are the jails overcrowded?"

"My men are still making them fit."

"Good, good." Vipond moved on then, asking the other men questions pertaining to their stations and those under them. Once the basic questions were finished, these meetings usually ended. However, with the changing climate among the classes and the increase in riotous activity, they had much more to sort through.

"Gentlemen," Vipond started, his voice uncharacteristically grave, "I trust you all know why else we are here. Have any of you heard anymore news of these… rumors?"

Javert looked down at his lap. Part of him wished he had news to report- Lilybet was, or at least used to be, close to the boys that played a part in this: how large a part, he did not know. She was in the perfect position to spy on them for Javert, finding information on their meetings and reporting it to him. Yet the other part of him would admonish him- you should be ashamed, it said. No matter what, he would never, could never, take advantage of her in that way. He knew that it could put her in the very danger he was trying to keep her out of. On the whole, he was glad she had no contact with those boys. It still bothered her, he knew. He saw the distant look of agitation in her eyes every time she thought he wasn't looking, the dark circles under her eyes that had become a permanent part of her features.

No matter- when this nasty business was all over and they had disbanded this little uprising, Javert would see to it that Lilybet got all the stress-free time she deserved. She would return to being the happy, optimistic girl he knew.

Unless you die instead and abandon her again, the voice rasped.

His head snapped back up when he heard a real voice. Javert turned to Contrôleur General Tibodeau and watched the pale, thin man talk.

"Monsieur Prefect," he said, "I have struck a deal with one of the gang leaders down in Saint Michel- a Thenardier, of the Patron-Minette. He and his wife go to the meetings, get their information, and report it back to me in exchange for immunity for petty crimes."

At this, Javert stiffened. "Monsieur Contrôleur, I am afraid I must object to this arrangement. Sorting with criminals is in my duties, and I do not believe it to be a good idea to strike such deals with them- particularly someone with such a vast history as Thenardier. It is highly unwise."

"Monsieur Inspector, if it gets results then I don't see why it cannot continue." Tibodeau countered.

"How are we to know that this man is not lying to you? Monsieur Vipond, you must see that this is a very risky solution to a problem we do not even know how to approach."

After thinking a moment, Vipond opened his mouth. "No, Javert, for once I believe I must ask you to stand down. After all, we have no other way to get information, and iffy is better than none."

Tibodeau nodded avidly at Vipond's encouragement. "And if I should find out that he's lied about anything, I informed him that he would be subject to arrest and maximum penalty for obstructing justice."

"Well, there you have it," Vipond said, crossing his arms, "none of any of your men will arrest this Thenardier for any petty crimes so long as he is assisting us."

If Javert did not have professionalism and his job at the foremost of his priorities, he would have argued further. However, he knew when he was overruled and was forced to remain quiet. However, he assured himself, if he were to catch Thenardier in anything, he would find some way to indict him. Criminals should never be allowed to go free, no matter what 'good' deeds they were to do. They always had a goal, always wanted something. None of them would ever do anything without a deal.

Vipond continued, "Have you gotten anything so far, Tibodeau?"

"Yes, Monsieur Prefect. Thenardier had not been able to get admission to their top secret meetings, but he knows enough to know that they have a day set for their rebellion, they will announce it to the masses when it comes. He says they also know of Lamarque on his deathbed, and they are treating it significantly- whether it is a blow or encouragement, I cannot say."

"A blow, probably- everyone knows his stance on the lower-classes, surely he is a martyr to them." Minard mused.

"And their main group calls themselves Les Amis de l'ABC. Their headquarters is a café called the ABC Café."

Javert felt as though the floor dropped a foot beneath him.

"And does anyone know where that is?" Vipond asked.

"I do." Javert said quietly, staring hard into the table.

"Then dispatch a portion of your men there. I want at least one inspector with three other officers patrolling the area at all times."

"Yes, Monsieur Prefect."

"Minard, are your men ready?"

"Yes, Monsieur Prefect. They have been breaking up the small riots and demonstrations, they are ready in case anything should happen."

"Good, good. And Javert, when it happens-"

"-I will lead my men alongside Minard's and assist the National Guard in any way I can."

Vipond gave an approving nod. "Well, if that's all we have, meeting adjourned. Stay close, men. There's no telling what will happen with Lamarque down and these 'Amis' plotting. If anyone hears or sees or so much as smells anything at all, I want it reported to me immediately. Good day."

All the men save for Javert and Vipond rose immediately, bowing their exits. After what felt like an eternity, Javert slowly began to stand and pushed his chair in once he was up. The ABC Café. No, anywhere but that. Anywhere else.

"Say, Javert," Viponds voice cut through his thoughts, "how do you know where that place is?"

Somehow, he could not tear his eyes from the table. It surprised him that his stare had not bore two circular holes into the wood already.

"It… it is the place of the riot where I had gotten injured. Also, it is right next to where Mademoiselle Barbier's shop and place of residence is."

"Does she know?"

She must have. She had to.

"No" Javert said.

"You should keep it that way. For her safety. It's not my place, but I'd recommend getting her to relocate for the next few weeks. Just in case."

"Yes, Monsieur."

"When this madness passes, you should bring Lilybet and have dinner at my home. I know my wife took a liking to her and God knows I'm impressed at the difference she's made in you."

"I would be honored, sir. I am sure she would be as well."

"I know how dedicated you are to your job, Javert. And I respect you for it- hell, it's what's gotten you this far. But remember that it's not all you have. It's okay to make family your priority. It's why we're in law enforcement. To keep the ones we love safe. Just remember that occasionally."

Javert blinked at the man coolly, impassively, while his insides were churning like a rickety boat in a hurricane. "Thank you, Monsieur Vipond." Was all he could say. The older man nodded, sticking his hand out. They shook and Javert exited the room, wanting nothing more than to get on his horse and gallop to Lilybet's shop, make her gather her things, and send her on a carriage to her uncle's farm in the country.

But no, she would never. He knew her well enough for that. Nor would he want her staying with any friends- Javert would not feel comfortable unless he knew she was safe and out of the way.

The solution hit him just as he arrived in his office and, for once in his life, he wished that the clock would move faster to the end of his shift.

It was four in the afternoon already and not a single customer so much as passed the shop. In fact, Elisabet felt like her whole street was slowly being deserted.

The café at the end of the street, however, only seemed to grow brighter.

After wiping the counter for the fifth time today, Elisabet huffed and leaned on her elbow. Her eyes were drawn to the ABC Café as sheepishly as a boy who couldn't stop staring at a lewd picture.

She glanced at the clock again. Surely nobody would miss if she left for an hour or so- she was closing at six, anyway. Elisabet knew she had to try and see at least one of them.

But wait. What if none of them were there? What if there were others, still with their cause there, who recognized her? Though she still had been able to help the poor, the news of her engagement had spread to those that were a part of the demonstrations and riots. It was these people that no longer frequented Elisabet's shop, and these people that gave a wide berth when she walked by on the street. Surely she would be unwelcome in their own territory.

Or, what was worse, maybe they all were there. Maybe it was another one of their meetings.

No, she told herself. She had to take the chance.

After fifteen minutes of pacing and senseless muttering, Elisabet took a deep breath and scribbled a note.

Will return at 5.

With a deep breath, she set off down the street.

The doors of the ABC Café felt as if they were made of lead when Elisabet pushed them open. Keeping her head bowed, she opened the door only slightly and slipped in, not wanting to draw any attention to herself whatsoever. When she mustered the courage to raise her eyes, she let out a breathless sound of relief.

There were a few people milling about, but not many. Sitting at the bar by himself, wine in hand, was Grantaire.

With a start, Elisabet realized that she really didn't have a plan for what to do next.

She shuffled her feet.

She sniffled and rubbed her nose.

She cracked her fingers.

When Grantaire happened to look up by chance, she forced herself to keep her head up as well.

Despite not seeing her in months, the boy recognized her right away. Or at least, she thought he did- after all, how many people did he greet with wide eyes and a mouth shaped like an 'O'?

"Hi" she said with an awkward wave, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

He stared at her dumbly, his brow furrowed. "What are you- how did- I- uh- hi."

She did not move, nor did he ask her to.

"I'm going to sit at the bar now." She announced to him.

"Okay" he responded.

Following through with her words, Elisabet slowly walked over to the bar and took a seat in one of the rickety wooden chairs. She glanced over at Grantaire. He had gotten thinner, she noticed, more severe. Still, he was not yet at the level of Enjolras, she was relieved to see. She could still see the relaxed, charming boy she knew.

"Is there a reason why you're here?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

"Then why are you so quiet?"

"There's just… so much to say. It's hard to start."

Grantaire sighed impatiently, still staring forward.

"Why won't you look at me?" Elisabet pressed.

"Because," he started impatiently, speaking softly and looking around as if she was not there, "I can't be seen talking to you. None of us can."

She expected something along those lines; still, that did not mean that it didn't sting her.

"But I have to talk to you!" she exclaimed, putting her hand on his elbow.

He pulled away quickly, "I can't. I'm sorry."

What little headway and goals Elisabet had reached in life, she reached by not taking 'no' for an answer. When she wanted something done, it would be done. This was no exception.

She ordered a glass of white wine from the bartender and took a casual sip, resting her chin on her elbow and mimicking Grantaire's covert behavior.

"You will come to my shop with me right now and give me the time of day or else I will walk straight to the police station and tell the Inspecteur Général everything I know."

"You haven't already?"

"Are you sitting in a bar or a jail cell?"

"You wouldn't dare."

Elisabet did not respond. Instead, she merely took a final sip before shrugging her shoulders and getting up to leave.

"Okay wait," Grantaire broke, taking her shoulder to keep her from going, "fine."

"Good," Elisabet said briskly, satisfied that he believed her bluff, "I am going to look at you pleadingly right now and you'll turn away, then I'm going to leave looking defeated. You will follow in five minutes and meet me in the supply room of the shop."

"Fine."

"Oh, and Grantaire?"

"What?"

"Pay for my drink as well."

With that, Elisabet did exactly as she described, and he obeyed.

When the door slammed upstairs, Elisabet immediately straightened herself, then leaned on one of the crates in her best attempt to look casual.

The crate slipped and she just managed to catch herself in time for Grantaire to appear on the base of the stairs.

He raised his hands and let them fall back to his sides, looking around. "Well?"

Without warning, Elisabet walked quickly over to Grantaire and wrapped her arms about him tightly. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she would feel a whisp of the normalcy of what her life used to be.

He hugged back and, for a moment, she almost felt like she could turn back the clock, back to when she felt like everything could be okay.

When he let go, a cold shiver crept up her spine and Elisabet was thrust painfully back into the present.

"You can't do this." She said suddenly.

"What?"

"This. All of this. You know…" she trailed off, a childish fear of going into details setting in.

Grantaire exhaled and rolled his eyes, catching on. "Look, I'm not even supposed to be talking to you because-"

"-because Enjolras doesn't want any of you talking to me because I am way too close to the police and I was the one who informed the police about your meeting that turned into a riot. Am I hot or cold?"

"How did you-"

"I ran into Lesgles."

"What else did he tell you?" Grantaire asked, getting serious.

"Calm the hell down, he didn't tell me any of your precious revolutionary secrets. But I want you to know that all of your reasons for not trusting me are bullshit."

"Oh, are they, now?"

"Yes. I didn't tell anybody anything. I don't know who broke up your meeting, but I'm not responsible for it turning into a riot and I'm certainly not the reason the police were there."

"I want to believe you."

"But you don't."

"Well… it's- Enjolras said-"

"Enjolras said, Enjolras said!" Elisabet's voice scrunched up in frustration and she didn't bother to keep her voice low any longer. "I don't give a damn what Enjolras said! I'm your friend. You know me. And I knew you once. I knew him, too. What ever happened to my boys? Where's little Gavroche? You're dedicating your lives to suicide! Do you know who those new officers on horseback are? The ones that hover around all of your demonstrations? They're the national guard. I know what you feel, I feel the same way when I see them on the streets every day. But you know what I do? I help them. I give them medicine. I don't rebel against the government. This isn't your fight. We live in a time where society has a perverse and screwed up sense of justice, believe me, I know. But all this will end in is death- yours, not the king's. They don't give a damn who they kill, but I do. I give a damn that you are young men who haven't even begun to live your lives and you're throwing them away. I'm not helping you, I'm not helping the police. I'm trying to stop this. I'm trying to keep you all safe."

He was quiet for a moment, looking down. "I understand how you feel. And I trust you. But Enjolras believes-"

"-no, no more what Enjolras believes in. What do you believe in?"

"Him."

He met her eyes with a hard stare and, for the first time, Elisabet truly felt defeated.

"So there's no changing your mind, then." She said softly.

"No."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Help us."

"I can't."

"Then make your peace with yourself. Make your peace with Enjolras. Whatever happens, whoever dies, it won't be your fault. It is not your duty to save us or stop us. We are grown men and our actions affect only us. They are our consequences only. I'm still your friend, Mademoiselle Lilybet. I trust that you're telling me the truth. Listen, I'll see what I can do with Enjolras, okay? I won't tell him you tried to stop us and I won't tell him you threatened to tell the police if I didn't come here. I'll try to get him to believe you, too. At the very least, I can get Gavroche to pay you a visit. He has no business in those meetings, anyway."

She nodded numbly, looking down at her feet so that he wouldn't see her blink out two tears. "So that's it then." She said thinly.

"That's it."

"Would you want to stay for a bit and help me out? For old times' sake, maybe? I can pay you."

"I can't. I have to be back at the café. Maybe sometime next week. Oh, and don't try and visit there again. You were lucky it was just me there."

"Fine. I'll walk you up." And so, Elisabet hugged her dear drunkard one last time, her stomach slowly sinking, before taking slow, heavy steps back to the main room. She stood outside of her shop, watching until the doors of the café slammed shut behind him.

Out of habit, she turned to her box and felt for orders. To her surprise, she felt a slip of paper under her fingers and pulled out her first order in almost a week. She looked at the clock- they wouldn't come by until six thirty, half an hour after closing time. Whoever this was, they were either inconsiderate or simple.

…our actions affect only us…

"You have no idea" Elisabet said sardonically as she slammed an empty crate into the ground in anger, surprised at her own strength as the planks of wood flew about the floor.

Javert was not tired by the walk to Lilybet's shop, but the heavy, damp air that had been present these past few days created a perpetual moistness that clung to his skin uncomfortably. There would be a storm coming soon, he knew. He just wished it would come early and end all of the humidity.

He stopped just outside of the door and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his brow in an effort to make himself look more presentable. To his surprise, the sign on the door still said 'open' and he could clearly see her through the window, mulling about behind the counter. That was strange- she usually closed the shop the moment the clock struck six, now it was nearly half an hour past…

No, he had no time to think about such trivial matters. He was there for one purpose only.

Javert had already thought out all the details; he would keep her in the guest room that she was in the last time she stayed over, and he himself would sleep on the couch downstairs. His room was in close proximity to the guest room, and he would not have her waking up in the middle of the night again to find him whimpering and embarrassing himself in his sleep. The arrangement would only last a short time, he wagered.

And yet, when he remembered why it was happening in the first place, he prayed that it would continue for the longest time possible.

Or perhaps, he thought, she would insist on sleeping in the same bed as him? Javert knew Lilybet, and he knew that she would remember him in his weak, unconscious state. No doubt she would want to stay with him because she thought she would prevent the dreams. But no, he would not allow that.

Shaking his head back to reality, Javert pushed open the door and walked softly in- even so, the little bell chimed a high pitched tinkle to signal the arrival of a new customer.

Lilybet looked up with the polite, expectant look of a shopkeeper and it soon turned to a look of surprised delight when she saw Javert in front of her.

"Hey there" she beamed, "I didn't know you were coming today."

He walked closer until he was on the other side of the counter. Javert leaned in, "I have important matters to discuss-"

The bell tinkled again, clipping the end of his sentence. A young girl who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties walked into the shop. She had blonde curls and large, blue eyes. She looked almost fairy-like, Javert thought in passing.

"How may I help you?" Lilybet asked, moving away from Javert. He stepped to the side obligingly.

"My father sent me to fetch an order he placed for six thirty? Do you have something for 'Fauchelevant'?"

"Let's see… I have an order here for six thirty, but it's under the name 'Cosette'."

The girl smiled knowingly, nodding. "Papa is always considerate to me" she said to herself. "Yes, that is mine."

The business exchange passed quickly and the girl was out the door again. As soon as she left, Lilybet exhaled, irritated, and changed the sign to 'closed'.

"I thought you close at six?" Javert asked.

"I do, but then I got this order here for six thirty. What could I do?"

"Tell her you were closed."

"Nah, one customer after store hours is better than no customers all day."

"You have had no customers?"

"For the past few days."

Javert furrowed his brow. So the people knew it, too.

"What is it you needed to discuss?"

Javert cleared his throat and spoke professionally. This was not an emotional decision, it was a professional one. He pledged to keep people safe, so he was starting with Lilybet.

"Due to the increasing tensions between the government and the rebels, I must ask you to take up temporary residence in my home until this… until this blows over."

"You mean until they actually decide to rebel."

"…Yes."

"No." she shrugged her shoulders matter-of-factly.

"No?" Javert asked incredulously, thrown off-guard. Of all the scenarios he imagined, this was not one of them.

"No." she repeated firmly, wiping the counter one last time before turning and going down to her supply room.

Normally, Javert would not even ask her to stay over until they were wed and she had to live in his home; however, with the present situation, he would not take no for an answer.

He followed her downstairs where he watched her put away the rag and locking up her materials.

"I must insist." Javert said.

"I must insist against it."

"Why?"

Lilybet turned to him and gave a humorless laugh. "Why? You want me to leave my shop , close it without any word or warning, and hide out in your house all by myself all day long, waiting for the day I hear shots outside the window and you don't come home because you're lying dead at the foot of a barricade?"

"I want you safe."

"I am safe."

Though he remained outwardly emotionless, Javert was getting impatient with her stubborn ignorance. How was it possible that she could not see the dangers literally right outside her door? Or did she want to be here, to be right near the schoolboys as they committed treason?

No. Javert had to put any suspicions aside; what mattered now was that she come with him. Whether she wanted to or not, he was going to ensure that she was safe.

He walked forward sharply and Lilybet matched him going backwards step for step until her back hit the wall. Her eyes widened briefly when Javert closed in and he thought he saw a hint of fear in her eyes at his sudden approach. He brushed aside the momentary guilt he felt.

"Do you realize the danger you could be in? I have classified intelligence that the heart of this rebellion is the café that your schoolboys so love right at the end of the street. If they still trust you, they will attempt to use your shop for a safeguard and pull you into harm's way. If they do not, then they may try to use you- perhaps kill you as a warning. These are trigger-happy boys. They believe this is nothing more than sporting, killing you will be no more than shooting down a fox."

"And you think that cornering me like one will make me listen to you?" Anger flickered in her eyes now as Lilybet threw her shoulders back and looked up into Javert's face challengingly. Suddenly, he realized that putting her up against the wall- quite literally- may not have been the best of ideas. "I'm not a child, I'm sick of everything spinning out of control in my life! I'm standing here, tied to the ground, while everything I know and love is going to absolute shit! Now you come along and you're trying to force me to hide away from my own home!"

Lilybet waved her arms impatiently, trying to get away from him. She was stubborn, Javert knew, but he was too.

He managed to catch her forearms and held them close. "Listen to me" he said quietly in his most soothing voice that he normally reserved for dealing with hysterical witnesses and relations of convicts when he had to inform them of said convict's execution date. "I do not know when, I do not know how, but Paris will soon be turned on its head. I am not forcing you into anything. You know of my position and you know of my duty. If not for yourself, then do it for me- if anything should befall me, I want to at least know that you are safe. If you would like, I will arrange for you to be sent to the country to your uncle's home-"

"-I am not letting you ship me off to the country-"

"-then stay with me. You will still be in Paris." Javert loosened his grip a bit and she slackened. Sensing a hole in her resolve, he switched his tone to a gentler one. "You wanted us to have a life together, and after this is over we can. But we both must be alive. Please, I will make sure you are safe. When I am not there you will have Sophie to attend to your every need, I will see to anything that you require to make yourself as comfortable as possible. Shops have been closing up and down this street, one more will not be out of the blue. Please, let me keep you out of harm's way."

Lilybet's lower lip trembled, her gray blue eyes awash with conflicting emotions. Javert tightened his grip on her forearms again, a fear hitting him that she would fall if he did not.

"I could go stay with Renee's family, or Rachel-"

"-no, I want to know that you are safe. I want to see you."

"I can't go."

"Yes you can. What could you do here? You cannot stop this from happening, you cannot stop them from their crimes-" Javert stopped when a low whine came from Lilybet's throat. He had struck a nerve, he assumed. Was this why she was so melancholy these past few months? Had she really thought that she could put a stop to these self-righteous schoolboys? So that was what she meant those months ago when she told him she was scared; it was not for herself, it was for these schoolboys. It was for Javert.

He had always predicted it, that her naïve optimism would hurt her- now it has, and he could see her stifling her tears. So why did he feel guilt for it?

He let go of her arms and Lilybet slowly neared him until she was practically leaning up against him. Javert wrapped his arms around her in response, cursing himself for his poor choice of words and overcome with protectiveness.

"It'll be my fault if they die."

"You are powerless."

She clutched his uniform, shaking in her attempt to not cry. Powerless? That was definitely the wrong word to use.

Javert tried to correct himself as she tucked her head under his chin. "No, not powerless, what I mean was you would not be responsible for their deaths any more than you might be for mine-"

"-just stop talking." She cut harshly.

"Right."

Lilybet let go and stepped back, leaning against the wall and rubbing her successfully tearless eyes. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for, Javert admired.

"I don't want to go." She announced.

"You must-"

"-but, if it'll give you some peace of mind, then fine."

"Good."

"But I'm not happy about it. This isn't because you're forcing me, it's my choice."

Javert nodded, afraid that to say anything else would reverse his progress. He knew that this was a blow to Lilybet's ego, that she knew, on some level at least, that Javert would not leave her with a choice. He was going to keep her as far away from the danger as possible.

Lilybet sighed and put her hand on her forehead. "You really care about me that much."

"Of course."

"What if it's weeks before it…"

"Then you will stay for however long you need to. Your safety is important."

"And what of your safety?"

Javert could not bring himself to lie to her.

"I am Inspecteur Général" he said simply, hoping that she would take it in a positive way.

She was quiet for a while; he could practically hear the gears turning in her head.

Whether Lilybet had seen that he was right or simply given up, he did not know. The important thing was she crossed her arms and shook her head, finally saying, "Alright. Alright. I'm not coming tonight, though."

"You must come as soon as possible."

"Tonight is too short notice. I need time to clean things up around here- I'm guessing you're not going to let me come back here?"

"Absolutely not."

"Right. Well then I'll be by tomorrow night."

"I will send a carriage for you at seven, then."

"No, you won't. I'll come by myself."

"Then I will walk you-"

"-by. Myself. I'll be at your door at seven."

He wanted to insist on picking her up. He wanted to ask why she wanted to be on her own. He wanted to question her on her attempts to stop these boys.

In the end, Javert knew that her 'yes' was already a tenuous one, and it was better off to leave it there.

"Very well."

"Want to stay for a little bit?" she asked.

"I am afraid I must-" Javert swallowed the rest of his sentence when he saw the droop in Lilybet's shoulders. "What is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something happened." There was no doubt about it: now that Javert had time to get a good look at her, he noticed her face was more troubled than usual. It was strange, he never thought he would be so affected by someone else's misery, and yet here he was, pained for no reason of his own.

She waved a dismissive hand. "It's nothing. Really, nothing. Not something I want to talk about. I'm sorry."

The hard look she gave him told Javert that she would hear no more on the matter. Very well, when she was ready to tell him, he would listen. Besides, now that he knew what the real source of her fears was, he thought he had an idea.

He sighed. So she did not want to tell him her problems- still, he could do something. "I think I may be able to stay for an hour or so."

She brightened at that. "I'll make you dinner." Lilybet began walking forward and stopped, turning to Javert once more. "Oh, and I do appreciate you caring enough to have me over. It just feels good that… that whatever else, I'll always still have you. I feel safer with you than anywhere else."

She wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight embrace and Javert put one hand on her back, patting it reassuringly. He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for her willingness. Now, at least, whatever happened to Javert, he would know that Lilybet was safe. He only hoped that God would return him safely to her. As a devout Catholic, he knew God favored the righteous. Javert tried his best to live a life free of the dirt and sin he was born into, and he had been rewarded with a beautiful, smart, caring, idealistic young woman that loved him. He just hoped that he would live long enough to try and give her a proper life, maybe even a family of his own.

With one worry crossed off of his mind, Javert moved on to the next- the turmoil going on in the Palais du Justice, constant impromptu meetings, and being forced to trust Thenardier through it all.

Closing A/N: For the Grantaire referencing Enjolras thing, I kind of drew from the book, because he was the one who didn't really feel as passionately for the revolution as the others, but the one thing he said he believed in was Enjolras. Thanks again!