a/n: oi, talk about cheap, I'm posting while at school! Thank you to all of those who have reviewed!

JAVERT POV

Opening my eyes, it takes a few seconds for me to recognize my surroundings. When I do, it is not Valjean above me, but Cosette. I instantly try to sit up, to get away, to cover myself and save what shred of dignity I have left.

When I do, she lightly presses a hand to my chest and forces me to stay down. I glare at her and she ignores it, "I'm not going to hurt you. My father was tired. He needed rest."

I nod, but I keep a wary eye on her. I have had her at gunpoint and she has held a gun against me as well. I don't know whether she can be trusted. I can understand Jean Valjean; he admitted that he would never kill me and that I believe. This bastard child has made no such deal.

She wets a cloth and as she moves to place it on my forehead, I stare at her warily. I would expect her to draw back, I would expect her to continue, but I would never expect her to laugh, which is precisely what she does. She laughs at me, at first only a giggle, and then full-blown laughter.

"Ladies should know their place in society," I growl, "they should know better than to treat a man with such disrespect."

She turns to me and though the laughter dies from her throat, it does not die from her face, "I'm sorry, Monsieur, I really am, but you really should know that I'm only trying to help. I wouldn't harm you. My father trusts you, and that means that I do too, whether I really should or not, though, remains up to you."

The response stuns me a little; it's something that would come from Valjean. He has raised her well, but not well enough. She still disrespects a man, though I highly doubt that he has ever let her out of range, so she probably has rarely ever had to face one this way.

As she moves the cloth back to my face, I do not protest, but I do flinch slightly at first contact. If she noticed this, it doesn't show. Her hand runs lightly down my cheek, the cloth soft and cool against my burning forehead. I welcome the feeling and realize that for the first time in my life there is someone that really cares for me, someone that would truly protect me and help me. I never had this as a child, and I learned not to expect it from the world, but here I am, in the most unlikely of places, with someone caring for me. I bite back a sigh as she moves the cloth to my forehead and then away from me, setting it off to the side completely.

"You're still feverish, but you haven't eaten in days. Would you like something to eat? Toussaint can make something, anything you'd like," she asks, an innocent tone in her voice, one she was thoroughly hiding earlier.

Now that she mentions it, a warm meal sounds wonderful, but how do I admit this? I am not weak, though it seems that this is what they wish for me to admit: that I am weak.

She stares at me a moment, "What would you like?"

I shake my head, "Anything, really. Anything light… I'm not sure how well I can keep food down. I haven't tried."

She nods and leaves the room momentarily. Upon return she sighs, staying in the doorway, "I need to look after Marius, it's surprising to say, but he's in just about as bad as you are when it comes to illness, though his is from injury of course. Would you be all right on your own for a moment?"

"Of course," what a childish question.

She nods and leaves the room, hurrying down the hallway.

I watch her back and then settle into my pillow when a voice interrupts me, "You could have treated her better. She was only trying to help."

I turn to see Valjean, alert and watching me, "What did I do wrong? You have not taught her the proper manners."

"I have hardly found the time," he answers, "You seemed not so long ago very determined not to allow me to have that sort of time. There was always something on my mind, I guess, but I did do my best."

I look up at him and realize now that he might not have changed, he never can change, he can never erase his past, but he would do anything in the world for her. He would risk his own life for her happiness. He has done his best.

I nod, "You're right, you have done your best. You've given anything to her that she asked, and you'd still give anything to her if she were to ask."

He looks at me and smiles, and though the sight almost warms me, I still know that in my mind he is a convict, whether he is saving me now or not. I don't know how I could ever get past that, but I can always try my best, as he has done for so many years with me.

Cosette then comes back in, ruining this little conversation, and I'm almost glad she has.

Ignoring her father for only a moment, she turns to me, "There will be a smile meal served shortly."

I smile the best I can, "Merci."

She nods and turns to Valjean, "Papa, you're awake!"

"Yes, Cosette, and I'm feeling quite better," he assures her.

She smiles and kisses her cheek before turning back to me, "Is there anything else that I can help you with?"

VALJEAN POV

He almost shakes his head then decides to nod, "Yes, I think I need a moment to talk with your father."

She looks at him warily, then to me, and I nod for her to leave, so she turns back to him, "Of course, Monsieur."

As she leaves, he turns to me. Once she is gone and the door is closed, he sighs.

"This is quite embarrassing," he blunders.

I laugh, "Imagine what it must be for Marius, he only has girls to help him."

"But one of the girls loves him," he points out.

I nod and move to his side, gently helping him into the washroom and gently helping him into a standing position before turning around. As he relieves himself, I start to blush, because though my back is turned, it is quite an embarrassment to even be in the same room.

He finishes and then makes himself as decent as possible before calling out, "I can't stand."

I turn and nod, helping him up and then almost carrying him into the main room. Just as he settles back in there is a knock on the door.

"Come in," he manages a strong voice, but automatically pays by going into a fit of coughing.

Cosette walks in with a small bowl of soup and a little bread. She sets it in his lap, the small tray barely balanced, but she holds it in place long enough for him to balance it himself.

"If you would excuse me," she quietly says before leaving the room.

I watch as he struggles with the silverware, his muscles still weak from not being used and from the fever. I long to help him, but I don't wish to push, so I let him use what little energy he has before he finally sets down the spoon in the soup and sighs. He had all the manners that one could ask for with this case, and he has been as kind as I would expect and even more so at times, but I never expected him to give in so easily.

"Could you," he pauses, "Could you help me?"

I nod, "Of course, why wouldn't I?"

He doesn't answer, so I move gently to his side, sitting so that I have an arm behind his back for support, and slowly help him eat his meal. Half way through the soup, with only a few bites of bread gone, he sighs.

"Are you full?" I quietly question.

He shakes his head, "No, but I don't think that I could hold down any more."

I nod lightly and set the food aside, "Are you going to be sick?"

"No," his voice is barely audible, "I don't think so."

I start to sit up, and he grabs my wrist, "Please, stay…"

"What is it?" I whisper, my hand starting to lightly caress his forehead.

He quickly lets go and shakes his head, and I whisper, "You can tell me."

JAVERT POV

That's just it, I can tell him, I can, but I won't. I just can't bring myself to admit that this is the first time anyone has cared, and that I don't want to lose it, that I'm scared of losing it. I won't tell him how much I appreciate his time that he devotes to caring for me, to helping me. I won't because I was raised never to show weakness, to never allow yourself to admit to pain and thankfulness. These things bring pain, these things bring suffering, that's what I've been taught.

"It's nothing," I insist.

He nods, "Alright. But if it ever is something, just know that you can trust me. I wouldn't hurt you. I only attack when in a corner and all other options have been taken away. I apologize for anything I've done to you."

"You shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Never mind," I sigh and he gives up, leaving the room.

It is something, though. It's a big something. He shouldn't apologize, because I already forgive him.

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a/n: ONE. MORE. CHAPTER!