Chapter Eight: Turning

"The revolutionaries have a hearing?" Javert managed over his tea the next morning.

"Not a 'hearing,' per say," DeLancy answered with a wave of his hand. "Technically the white flag was raised on our side, but you know how that goes."

"You know something then?" Valjean asked quietly, thinking of the young man lying in the other room. They were his friends, those boys that were risking everything.

"I know more than most," DeLancy admitted with a shrug. "But I'm not at liberty to say anything."

"They won't even give him a trial," Javert murmured.

"Who won't?" a voice asked from the door and everyone turned to see Marius Pontmercy standing with his arm pulled close to him in a make-shift sling and his eyes staring intently at the three men.

Valjean pursed his lips together. "Marius, you should not be out of bed."

"Forgive me, Monsieur, but now that I am… Are you speaking of Enjolras?"

DeLancy's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Do you know him, young sir?"

"I do."

"Then I cannot-"

"I swear he shall not leave this house," Valjean said quietly. "If he wishes to know, he should. He will not interfere. Your job will not be at stake, nor their… plan." His voice gave away his disapproval of what he could put together as the students' fates, but his word stood out for the other man to take or to dismiss.

DeLancy looked at him oddly for a moment and nodded, a smile slipping to his lips. "House arrest won't be necessary, Monsieur. The government has sent a man in to infiltrate. He's posing as a National Guard sent to help. He's to get their trust, save them as best he can until he can deliver Monsieur Enjolras to his fate at the guillotine."

"But they raised the flag…" Marius whispered. "A white flag! The flag was raised, how can they…?"

"They can and they will," DeLancy said sharply. "Perhaps your friends will be bright enough to be slow to trust their new friend."

"Why tell me, Monsieur? At such a risk… Surely you know…"

"Indeed I do, Monsieur Pontmercy. Your grandfather would be much displeased, but there is always hope for those that are marked by death, isn't there? Always hope for a new freedom?"

Marius' eyes widened at the words and his fists clenched in determination. "Of course."

"It won't be easy, mind you. It is Alexis Enjolras' father who is masterminding the whole plan."

"Enjolras' father?"

"Mhmm. Now, Monsieur Pontmercy, you really should get yourself back to bed. You're looking rather pale. I hear that there's a lovely lady that's been waiting on since you came. I'm sure she'll get very worried… I wouldn't mention your plans to anyone, though. Make them your own."

"Yes sir."

Valjean watched Marius leave the room, slowly but with returning strength. Javert, he saw, had watched the entire episode with wide, unbelieving eyes. Perhaps the man that raised him was very different, the ex con realized for certain what he'd been pondering on since the night before when he'd come. How on earth did Javert turn out the way he did, then?

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"Paris?" Bouvet echoed. "Why on earth…?"

"I expect to be at the court first thing Wednesday morning," Enjolras explained simply as he pulled his coat around his body, gritting his teeth in pain. He shook off Combeferre's helping hand. "I'm alright."

"You keep saying that."

"And I will keep meaning that."

"We took you out of Paris for a reason," Bouvet cut in, a frown on his sharp features. "You should go in tomorrow morning."

"Not on your agenda, Bouvet?" Courfeyrac asked with an accusing look in his eyes. "Perhaps we're supposed to go in tomorrow for something?"

"I'm about done with your accusations, de Courfeyrac," Bouvet growled, receiving a satisfying glare at the title attached to his name.

"Perhaps when you begin acting as if you don't deserve them," the other growled in response, but Joly put a hand to his shoulder, quieting him.

"Now's not the time, Courfeyrac."

Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras desperately, as if expecting their leader to give him the go-ahead to throw Bouvet out of their presence. They could, in the young man's mind, simply because it was the National Guards who had raised the white flag. To his slight irritation Enjolras shook his head that he was to leave Bouvet alone.

The trip to Paris was not long, as they were on the outskirts, but it was troublesome. Grantaire, as predicted, had thrown a fit when he found out that the king had demanded an audience with Enjolras just days after he'd been so badly wounded. He ranted and raved about it as his blond Apollo sat and let him. It seemed that even Enjolras had managed to break through his pride and resentfulness towards the drunk to allow a little patience for him since the barricades.

Combeferre, Joly, and Grantaire companied Enjolras and Bouvet in one carriage until it pulled up to a building. Bouvet scrunched his long, thin nose as he looked out. "What is this?"

"My rooms," Enjolras answered, waiting for Combeferre to pile out of the carriage first.

"And where am I to stay?"

"Wherever you please."

"You're testing me, aren't you?"

Enjolras leaned forward slight, his sharp blue eyes meeting Bouvet's dark ones with fiery intensity. "Were you told to keep me under surveillance?"

"Of course not."

"I'm not that naïve." Enjolras straightened his shoulders and stepped out of the carriage and into the sunlight, Combeferre by his side. They watched the carriage pull away and Grantaire smirked.

"Don't look so cocky," Combeferre chided. "We're not rid of him yet."

"But we will be," the drunk responded with a grin.

Enjolras said nothing as he walked into the house.

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Bouvet frowned as the carriage continued to carry him towards the palace. Things were not going as planned and he knew who would take the blame for it. Not that he wanted to, of course. He would have much rather had a nice, stable job to fulfill on the sidelines of this whole ordeal, but alas, he'd been noticed by the man pulling the strings.

He reached on hand up to hit the top of the carriage, signaling for the driver to stop. He did not smile when the driver did and did not wait for his change. In his mind he ran over anything he could use. "It was sprung on me," he would say. "It won't set your plans back any, will it?" Was that the best he could come up with? "You told me to keep their trust. I couldn't do it without letting them go…."

"Making excuses already?"

Bouvet spun around, eyes wide and meeting the cold, steel blue ones of the greying man before him. "My lord!"

The man before him let a frighteningly chilled smile cross his thin lips. "Monsieur Bouvet. What could you possibly be doing here? Surely you could have sent someone unless it was urgent."

"I… He's here. In Paris."

"So I've been informed," the tall man said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Though I would have rather heard it from you first."

"Exactly what I was here for, sir."

"Too late, I see."

Bouvet frowned very slightly. Did this man want him to come and leave his charge earlier than need be or did he want the news immediately? Both, of course. And all from him.

"Though that is in the past," the man before him said wit a dismissive wave of his hand. "As of now our plans are moving forward and he will hide himself and his friends away in his rooms. I made certain they were held in case he did return." Two steely eyes narrowed. "I expect you to keep your eyes – both of them – on him from now on unless you are reporting back to me."

"That may be suspicious, sir."

"Then follow at a distance. Have someone else do it. Something. I want to know his whereabouts at all times."

"Yes sir."

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"I don't like it."

"He's a grown man. He can decide for himself what he wants to do."

Combeferre glared at Courfeyrac. "As his doctor-"

"As his doctor you must still give him enough of a chance to stretch his legs."

"It's been five days!" Combeferre hissed.

Courfeyrac sighed heavily. "And he was badly wounded, yes I know, but he's Enjolras. If he were acting any different we'd know something was seriously wrong. Anyway, if you tried to stop him, he'd just climb out the window or something, then you know he'd hurt himself worse. This way he has Joly and Grantaire with him, as little good as that may do, and he can still go out. He would have found a way to those people and you know it."

"Yes, I know, but I still don't like it."

"Combeferre!"

Both men turned to the door where Gavroche was slamming it open. "There's a riot in the streets!" the boy gasped.

"Where at?" Combeferre demanded.

"Down the ways a bit near the café! Enjolras was there!"

Combeferre and Courfeyrac took one long look at each other before sprinting out of the flat without a word between them. Gavroche huffed a frustrated sigh as he chased after them, determined not to be left out of the excitement.

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Tay-kun: Well… now I always manage to give different slash fans fuel for the fire and I never really mean to. Ah well. Glean from it what you wish, I suppose. There will be no slash. Sorry. Ah yes, Javert's family. I like his dad. You'll see more of him later on. I'm about half-way working on a side story for Javert's childhood and how he came to be apart of the DeLancy household. Very promising idea in my little box of tricks….

AmZ: Nope. DeLancy is actually only about ten years older than Javert. Javert showed up at their house when he was thirteen and DeLancy and his wife were very young, around 23-24ish. I've already thought it all through and as I told Tay-kun, I have a story in the works for his childhood that will explain a ton about the DeLancy family and such.

Caligirl-HPLVR: Thanks very much. Quite a compliment! I'm honoured!

Melissa Brandybuck: It always gets worse in my stories. :evil grin: makes 'em fun.

Precious Angel: As far as I know Javert's parents aren't mentioned in the book except for the bit on him being of gypsy heritage and that he would have taken his own mother in for breaking her parole. I took quite a bit of creative liberty with it. Good! I'm glad you don't know what to make of Bouvet. That's his purpose… for now. Thanks very much!

Mizamour: Thanks very much. I'm just thrilled that I have my nice little outline of the days and how long it's been since the barricades… I was confusing myself until I got that :is happy this is the one things she's organized with:

Thanks all

TBC

TS