AmZ – oh yes, weirdness shall abound for these two in the future. Speaking of which, have you ever read the extended unpublished version of the scene "How Jean May Become Champ" – talk about an awkward conversation! The boys really need to work on their communication skills.

L'Ael-Inire – so glad you liked my Fantine characterization. Yes, she is always the idealist, even in the worst times of her life, and that's what I love about her. Plus I think she is probably assuming that M. Madeleine is going to foot the bill from now on ;).

Thank you to my two lovely reviewers for staying with the story. Please keep it up! To anyone who has read but not reviewed, let me know what you think!

It seemed that someone had asked him a question. He tried to answer, but could not seem to form the words.

He felt disoriented; he could not remember where he was, and he could not see anything. He thought he recognized the voice of the doctor who attended Fantine. Fantine! Recollection flooded back, and his mind latched onto the familiar subject. He had not paid his usual visit to her bedside, and she surely would have missed him. He hoped his absence had not caused her to worry. Was she here then? Strange thought. He tried to ask the doctor, yet again, the words seemed stuck in his throat. He opened his eyes a little. The doctor was looking down, writing something on a little sheet of paper.

His vision was hazy, but he after a moment he recognized his surroundings. He was in the infirmary. He could not recall how he had come to be there. It did not seem important.

Someone was speaking again, but not to him. He could hear fragments of a conversation, voices speaking in low tones, hard to make out, perhaps just outside the door.

"M. le maire is still recovering. I'm afraid he can't see you now. I will pass on your respects."

"What does the doctor say?"

"Probably an attack of apoplexy. It is a miracle he is still with us. Thank the Lord..."

A few more words here that he could not make out. Then,

"Don't mention that I was here."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't tell him I came by; it's not important."

"As you say. Good evening, monsieur."

The door opened and closed, and the owner of the first voice entered. He recognized the coarse patois of Sister Perpétue. "Has there been any change?"

"No." The doctor replied.

Madeleine tried to speak again, but it seemed to require too much effort. It was very strange. He felt well enough, if perhaps a little faint, but otherwise quite normal. He tried to sit up, and could not. Was he awake? He could not say. It was dark again.

***

Upon leaving the house of M. Madeleine, Javert had kept himself very busy and did not give much thought to the strange events of that afternoon. He had continued to carry out the tasks the mayor had assigned to him well into the early evening hours. Now he sat at his desk and wrote his reports.

One of these reports was on his involvement in the emergency hospitalization of the mayor. It was an obligatory and purely administrative act which he completed with perfect detachment. Javert was nothing if not efficient and methodical in his duty. He glanced at the clock; it was past eight thirty. His reports completed, stamped, and filed, he collected his things and left to go home.

As soon as he went out, his mind immediately began to drift back to the scene of that afternoon. It irritated him that the mayor should continue to preoccupy his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to rid himself from that man, to never think of or speak to him again, and yet Madeleine always had a way of drawing attention to himself. He was, for all his apparent humanity and intellect, a man of disorder. What disturbed Javert was that such a man should be in so great a position of power. It was dangerous to society, and to himself, Javert. The inspector had not once faltered in his duty, never erred or doubted, he had been irreproachable; that is to say, until he encountered Madeleine. It was as if the very presence of that man corrupted him. There had been a moment, when he had first rushed to his aid, when he observed him perfectly still, corpse-like; he had inwardly rejoiced, thinking him dead. It was a very depraved emotion, he knew, but it was true. While he did not consider himself a man prone to great sentiment of any kind, he could not deny that he deeply hated M. Madeleine.

Yet he had helped this man; in truth, it had never crossed his mind to do anything else. If Madeleine had died, to Javert, negligence on his part would have been equivalent to murder. He was an agent, not a judge, and would have no part in dealing death to anyone. However, knowing that he was thus absolved of any blame, nothing would have pleased Javert more than if the mayor should have died in his sleep that night.

***

Fantine awoke early that morning and found Sister Simplice by her side. She smiled brightly, and expressed a world of hope in this simple question:

"M. Madeleine?"

The sister ignored the question, in her manner of gentle abruptness, and felt her forehead. "The fever is lessening. I do believe you look healthier today. How do you feel?"

"Oh! I feel marvelous! I am going to see my daughter today, you know. Isn't he back with her yet, M. Madeleine? He should be back by now. Oh tell me, sister, where is he?"

"Be calm. How excited you get! You'll tire yourself out."

"But you see, I'm all better now! And still you haven't answered my question; please, sister, don't be cross with me, you understand, I just want to see her so much. Where is she, my Cosette? And M. Madeleine?"

Sister Simplice looked at the poor woman. She had never seen her so full of life. This woman who, days ago, had seemed ready to depart from the world. How to tell the truth of what had happened without killing the hope that revived her?

She merely said, "M. Madeleine has returned from his journey."

At this, Fantine sat up energetically. "Returned! He's here then, you say! But sister, why hasn't he brought me my child? Where is Cosette?" She had grasped the nun's hand with all her strength and was looking at her with anticipation. The deceit had gone on too long for Sister Simplice. She drew a breath, and began:

"Fantine, I will tell you, but you must be calm. The truth is, M. Madeleine – "

A knock.

Simplice hesitated. "You may enter."

It was Sister Perpétue. She paid no attention to Fantine as she hurried over to the other nun and murmured something in her ear. Sister Simplice said a silent prayer of thanks and crossed herself as she heard the news. M. Madeleine had awakened. Yet it was still unknown how much damage was done. The nun had seen cases of victims of such attacks who never fully recovered. Some remained blind, speechless, or immobile forever. Others were physically intact but disturbed emotionally, the personality was changed, often prone to dark thoughts. Nonetheless, there was hope now. After a moment, she decided it was best to delay giving the news to Fantine until she herself knew the extent of the situation.

"I must attend to another patient immediately. I shall tell you everything a little later." She gave Fantine her most reassuring smile as she gently extricated her hand from the woman's grasp. But Fantine did not return the look. She had become pale and serious. Now she turned to Sister Perpétue:

"Good sister," she cried, "Won't you tell me where my child is? Hasn't M. Madeleine brought her?"

"Oh," the nun said softly, caught off guard. She looked at Simplice, who had her eyes down. "I…I think M. Madeleine should like to tell you himself." She said awkwardly, and left the room quickly with Sister Simplice.

Fantine was left alone with her thoughts.

***

At that moment, in a little village outside of Paris, a man was hastily writing a letter. Given his violent movements on the paper and periodic cursing, it could be guessed that the man was very angry.

Suddenly, he called out harshly, "The devil! the rascal wants to bargain. He sends me a few crumbs. Well! I'm not satisfied. Two letters, no answer. Does he think to scare me? The fool!"

He finished his writing, grinned widely, displaying an incomplete set of teeth, and laughed. "Now then! this'll make him answer." He read his letter over quickly, found something in it that seemed to amuse him, and laughed again.