He was awoken by a bird's chirping.

"Papa, look at him!"

Grantaire was confused. "Birds don't speak…ah yes, she's a girl, not a bird." He opened his eyes, but his vision was too blurred for him to make anything out.

"Papa, didn't you hear me?" A pause. "Papa!"

"Yes, my child, I see him," answered a gentle tenor. Another pause.

"Do something!" the girl trilled. When Papa did not answer right away, she grew impatient. "What are we going to do? We can't just leave him here!"

"You are right, my child, we cannot." Seconds later, Grantaire felt himself being lifted up unto someone's shoulders. Then consciousness again was lost.

When Grantaire came to, he found himself in a soft bed. Oh no, not again! He opened his eyes, only to shut them tightly against the morning light which entered the room through a gigantic bay window directly across from him. He opened them again, slowly. He was alone in a spacious bedroom, decorated obviously by a woman, judging by the ivy and white flowers which decorated the walls and furniture.

"What is this place?" Grantaire wondered. His head pounded, reminding him anew why he shunned sobriety so.

He attempted to get out of the bed, but his unwieldy limbs tangled in layers of white linen, and he fell to the floor with a loud crash. Light foot treads echoed outside his room. Seconds later, the door blew open. A young girl flew inside, light curls and a white chiffon robs flowing after her.

"Monsieur, are you quite alright?" she asked as she knelt by his side.

Grantaire was taken aback. Monsieur… He scrambled away from her. "I'm fine!" It came out harsher than he intended.

The girl's face crumpled. "But you're on the floor…"

An older man appeared in the doorway. "Cosette?"

Grantaire looked up in surprise; he had not even heard the gentleman approach. Presumably, he was the girl's father. He had pristine white hair and a beard to match. His gentle eyes sparkled like sunlight reflecting off ocean spray. The man simply radiated an air of serenity that put Grantaire more at ease. He repeated, "Cosette, what has happened?"

Cosette faced him, but did not leave Grantaire's side. "He fell on the floor!" She looked stricken.

Grantaire managed to pull himself up. "Floor's the place for me, little Lady." "But no one belongs on the floor!" She pulled at him.

Grantaire stared at her. "You are very strange, you know that?"

Cosette looked perplexed.

"Monsieur, my daughter and I discovered you unconscious outside the Café Lemblin. Perhaps you could tell us your name, and how you came to be in such a state?" the girl's father said.

"Well," Grantaire began. He paused to back away from Cosette, who had inched towards him again. "My name is Grantaire. You haven't heard of me on account of I'm a failure-will you get away from me?!"

Cosette's eyes brimmed with tears.

Grantaire sighed, frustrated.

"Go on, Monsieur," the old man encouraged, rubbing his daughter's arm to comfort her.

Grantaire hesitated, but relayed the entire incident to the father and daughter. The man's eyes widened momentarily at Inspector Javert's name, but he said nothing. When he was finished, Grantaire softly confessed, "But I don't want to live like this anymore. Being the drunkard no one takes seriously. Being the hopeless cynic." A pause. "Being the one Enjolras hates more than anyone else." Another pause. Grantaire struggled to keep back his tears. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I mean, I don't even know who you are," he concluded lamely.

"My name is Jean Valjean," the old man thought to himself. "More of a disgrace to society than even a lost man such as you. But surely I cannot tell you that." He sighed inwardly. "Grantaire, you may call me Monsieur Fauchelevant," Jean Valjean said instead. "We are more alike than you know; I believe I may be able to help you-with the aid of my darling Cosette."

Cosette beamed. "So you can get off the floor now!" she told him.

Realising that he was beaten, Grantaire conceded. "But how can you help me?" Grantaire asked Jean Valjean. "How could you possibly teach me to be a respectable Frenchman? And why?"

Jean Valjean's eyes twinkled. "I have my reasons," he answered. "And as to how, I have my ideas. But for now, Grantaire, rest. When tomorrow comes, there is much work to be done. You need your strength. I will call for you at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Until then, goodbye, and God bless." Jean Valjean left. "Come Cosette! Say goodbye," he called after.

Cosette curtseyed, and trilled, "Goodbye, Grantaire! I shall see you tomorrow!" She fluttered out of the room.

Grantaire sat down on the bed, his mind reeling. He could hardly comprehend all that had just occurred. So he didn't bother to try. He lay down. "When tomorrow comes," he murmured, just as he dropped back into a deep slumber."