Chapter Five: Professors and Men of Mercy

By the time that Combeferre had ushered Enjolras back to bed, the other was paler than he had been – an incredible feat within itself - and he fell onto the pallet with a low moan of pain and a struggle to both cough and to refrain from coughing. He curled into himself, back bent so that he might turn in such a way to bring his long legs up as far as he could without aggravating his wound, and yet to protect himself as the deepest part of his mind told him to do. It hurt and at that very moment, the white hot pain controlled his subconscious actions.

"Is he alright?" Gavroche asked, his eyes widening at Les Amis' leader.

"He will be," the med student assured him. "Enjolras is very strong and very brave."

The youth nodded and left Combeferre alone with his friend. The young student heard the door shut behind him and he fell to the floor next to Enjolras, taking the other's slender hand in his own and feeling the clammy skin beneath his own. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, not sure if his friend could even hear.

"You have no reason…" Enjolras gasped. "I'm… just glad… we've done what we set out to do."

"It's not over yet, Enjolras, surely you know that," Combeferre cried.

"We'll take the days as they come," his leader promised, squeezing his hand. "Whatever it may through at us, we simply continue on."

"It's easier said than done, my friend."

"But it can be done."

"Enjolras?"

Both men turned to see Grantaire leaning heavily on the doorframe.

"You imbecile!" Combeferre growled as he flew to his feet. "Bed! Now! I left you in there a moment ago with the assumed understanding that you would stay."

The drunkard gave him a lopsided grin. "In a room without Apollo."

"You are a fool," the student announced as if it were a new revelation.

"A fool that will stay," Grantaire murmured, stumbling his way over to the makeshift pallet they'd hoped he'd abandoned for the better one that had been set up. The day's journey to find Marius had taken its toll on both men and they needed rest. Preferably apart seeing as they managed to rile each other up so. But it seemed that was in the future and not the now. Combeferre watched Grantaire plop down. "Oh," the drunkard continued with a slur after he'd taken his seat, "there's a man to see you outside. Looked like a professor."

"Did he give a name?" Enjolras asked tiredly.

"Du… something."

"DuPont?"

"That's it."

Enjolras turned to Combeferre who visibly slumped. "But-"

"Bring him in," the blue-eyed man said with a sigh.

Combeferre looked as if he were about to argue, but then stopped, nodded, and left the room.

"Who is he?" Grantaire asked quietly.

"A friend."

"Why wasn't he there?"

"He was… afraid."

"Of the afterward," a new voice said and both young men looked up to see a well dressed, only slightly elder man. He was clean shaven, dressed in a nice, but not overly expensive suit, and top hat. He carried a cane in one hand and a small smile on his lips. "I've come to see you, Enjolras."

"It is good to see you," the injured leader admitted softly.

DuPont knelt next to him. "You look dreadful."

"I feel as much."

"Combeferre looked frustrated."

Enjolras chuckled at this. "He is. I do believe I've proven to be a difficult patient. Gallivanting off to find missing comrades and all."

"I see. Quite an adventure after it all."

"Don't tell me," Enjolras murmured, shifting so that he might look at the other in the eye, "you came just to discuss my ill state of health and Combeferre's irritation. Surely you've heard of that elsewhere."

"Yes, the news is out. Some sources have you on your deathbed and still others simply planning your next move."

"Is that so?" Enjolras asked with a smile on his lips. "Somewhere in the middle, I'd say."

"I wouldn't say so, but if you wish it."

"What are you here for, Professor?"

The young teacher smiled softly, placing a hand gently on the injured man's forehead. "I was afraid, you know that. Now I wish to make amends by offering what I may to you."

"Continue on," Enjolras answered him swiftly. "Continue on with your classes, your research and it all… Also…."

"Also?"

"Make room for those that wish to learn. Those like Gavroche."

"Of course."

"For the abaissè."

"I will."

"Good," Enjolras breathed and was asleep.

DuPont started at the sudden lack of response and checked his breathing. "He's alseep…"

"He has a right to be exhausted," Grantaire said from his place.

"Yes, I'd say so." He looked at the sleeping revolutionary and smiled. "Very much so."

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The sun had set by the time Cosette came from the small room. "Was someone here earlier, Papa?" she murmured sleepily.

"A friend of Marius'," Valjean answered quietly.

"A friend?"

"Yes. His revolutionary friend. Monsieur Enjolras has left him in our care until we deem it fit. Or Marius does, I suppose."

"I love him, Papa," Cosette said, trying to will Valjean to meet her eyes. He had not so much as looked at her when she walked in. She inched forward, noticing his grimace at her words and she lay a gentle hand on his arm. "But I love you no less, my dearest Papa. Won't you let me love both?"

It was at those words that Valjean felt himself crumble. He spun, surprising the girl, and clung to her. After she moved past the initial surprise, she buried her face into his jacket and allowed him to cling and sob. She embraced him tightly as she had not done since she was young. "I will not leave you. We will not leave you."

Valjean pulled away gently. "Thank you," he murmured. "And I shall do my best to not leave you."

She smiled, thinking him only playing, and turned. "I should check on him."

"Yes, you should," her father said kindly. "And I must get some fresh air. I'll be back shortly."

She nodded and watched him disappear out the front door, a smile on her lips as she turned back to her love.

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"You haven't been out of that house since you brought him."

Valjean looked startled at the sound of the voice. He turned to see Javert standing in the shadows, his blue eyes darkened with emotions untold. "You're here to arrest me."

"You assume too much," Javert grumbled. "Haven't you read the papers?"

"I've had little time for it."

"I'm dead," Javert said simply, as if it explained everything. "Why didn't you take him to his grandfather?"

The ex convict looked startled once more. "I thought to, but then thought against it. To separate them now… I couldn't bear it."

"To see that child in pain?" Javert asked. "The man of mercy once more? Always. I take it she's the whore's daughter?"

"Fantine's."

"Yes," the inspector grumbled, looking perfectly irritated by the whole matter.

"If not to arrest me, Javert, then why have you come?"

"To say goodbye. It seemed appropriate after everything."

The words rang oddly in the cooling air. "Goodbye?" Valjean echoed. "Then you'll leave me be…? Or… Do you mean to leave everyone be?"

"I've tried that. The river wouldn't have me."

It was only then that Valjean noticed the state the former inspector was in. His blond hair was tangled and pulled free of its traditional ponytail, hanging loosely against his shoulders. His blue eyes had lost their intensity, leaving a hollowness that was almost frightening. He'd lost his overcoat somewhere and the toe of his left boot was nearly broken through. He held his left arm close to him as if it were injured and when he moved it was with a limp. He nodded suddenly. "Goodbye then, Valjean. I'd tip my hat but it would seem I have none."

"Wait," Valjean said without meaning to.

The injured officer turned to look at him. "What?"

"You…" the con began, searching for something. Anything. They'd spent two decades – or had it been more? – in a runabout with one another and this was it? "You're injured," he aid at last. "Come inside."

"I shall not be a bother," Javert said with a wave of his good hand. "Give my regards to the girl."

"Give them yourself. Please."

"Why?"

"I don't know…" Valjean murmured thoughtfully. "Perhaps the 'man of mercy' as you called me simply must act."

A small smile perked Javert's thin lips and he nodded once, falling back into his stone cold expression. He followed his former nemesis into his home and caught sight of Fantine's child. She was everything her mother could have been if given the chance. Full of life, beautiful and fair. Pure, no doubt, and with a heart as large as her father's. No, not the man that had left her mother alone in the world, but the man that had raised her.

"How is he?" Valjean asked gently.

"Better."

"Might I ask you to boil some tea for us, Cosette? Monsieur le inspector surely could use some by the looks of him."

"Of course, Papa," the young lady answered and moved swiftly away, leaving the con to tend to the inspector.

"Let me have a look," Valjean said sternly, motioning to Javert's arm.

"I'd really rather you not."

"You are in my home and you will abide by it," Valjean said in a low, authoritative voice, much like he used when he'd told Javert that Fantine would be freed all those years ago.

The inspector relented and slipped his tattered jacket from his shoulders, hissing in pain as he did so. He closed his eyes as Valjean's hands moved over the broken bone. "It's broken," the larger man said matter-of-factly. "It needs to be set."

"Get on with it," Javert growled through clenched teeth.

The other raised an eyebrow, looking as if he might question the sudden trust. Perhaps it was not that at all, but simply the wish to get the pain over and done with. As Valjean would rather as well, seeing as Cosette would return. The inspector let out a gasp of pain as the bone was put firmly back in place. "And what else?"

"I've a sprained ankle and bruises. The arm was the worst of it."

"You look as if you bumped your head."

"What of it?" Javert demanded, irritated. Had this man not dragged him in here and was he now his doctor? He had not asked for the help, only a simple goodbye. He thought it would be the right thing to do and now he regretted it.

"If you'd like to die of head wounds on your own time, you are certainly welcome to it, but not under my roof."

"And who brought me here?"

Valjean smiled slightly at this. "We have rooms," he said simply. "Until you're rested."

"Why?" the inspector asked once more.

"Because you are no longer the inspector chasing the convict. You are a man in need of help. As we all are."

Javert stared at him, eyes showing his utter confusion of the actions. The man of mercy surely had come again and left his mind in utter confusion.

Caligirl-HPLVR: Thanks muchly

Melissa Brandybuck: well he won, so he has time to have a heart now lol. Unlike before, seemingly…. I suppose Enjolras is what you'd call 'one track minded' ne?

Mizamour: Thank you very much!