Marius lay, unsleeping, underneath the blankets on the bed in the apartment. Earlier that day, Marius had stormed out of the apartment, angry and hurt and blaming Cosette for every unpleasant feeling he felt. It was true; moving to England hardly offered the safe harbor for their love. He'd thought they would spend days taking walks together, sitting by a fire, being in love. That was a silly fantasy. It seemed there was a lot more time spent working than being with her.

But he realized he had wronged her. After an hour or so of his walk, he realized what she must be feeling. Cosette did love him; she would not have left her father without loving him at least a little bit. So he had driven her to her relationship with Kennedy. She was right; they had not spoken properly in weeks. He was not paying her enough attention. Cosette, French-speaking and all but isolated in the English world, did not deserve to be left alone all day. He did not have a choice in that matter, though. Still, Marius vowed on his way back home to pay her the proper amount of attention when he came home from work. No matter how tired he was, he would make a point to make sure she knew how much he loved her.

For he did. He loved her so, so much. The reason the gossip about Kennedy bothered him was not the gossip, but the deep, penetrating fear that it had been true. Marius hated knowing that man was in his home, with his wife, stepping about on his territory. How could Cosette not see that?

But Marius pushed that blameful thought out of his head. He turned the key in the lock of the apartment, planning on taking Cosette in his arms and kissing her hair and asking her to forgive him and promising to love her more properly- but his plans were cut short.

The apartment was quiet when he came inside. The door to the bedroom was open, and from the front door, Marius could not see Cosette on the bed or anywhere else in the room.

"Cosette? Cherie?" he called through the apartment. The main room, a kitchen, dining area, and living area all in one, was empty. The bedroom was empty. The closet was open, and Cosette's suitcase gone, along with her dresses.

"No..." he said to himself, disbelieving. He fumbled through the clothes, hoping to see something she'd left, something precious of hers, so she would come back... but she'd left nothing.

Swiftly moving back into the kitchen, Marius looked about- even her embroidery was gone.

"Cosette," he whispered, pain searing through his heart. "Oh, God, what have I done?"

He turned about, looking through the empty apartment, and then sat down on the floor, defeated, his head in his hands.

Cosette was gone.

After a few minutes of this, Marius rose up. Anger and maliciousness only come from pain, and that was what he was feeling. His blameful thoughts came back- how dare she just up and leave? Where would she go? To Kennedy?

That thought made his fists clench. He would kill that man if he put his hands on her...

Marius blanched. Maybe he already had. Maybe, the English lessons were even more out of line than he'd feared... He wanted to be sick. Kennedy and Cosette... the thought of them together that way...!

How dare she? How could she leave him?

Still, a bud of fear cut through this all- where would she live? If she didn't go to Kennedy, where was she? She could be hurt, or raped, or robbed...

But she might come back.

If she did go to Kennedy, well, he'd damn well better treat her right.

Unlike me, Marius thought, regret poisoning his mind.

Finally, his eyes landed on the kitchen table. A piece of paper lay there. Hope bubbled inside him- there had to be an explanation! She was going to come back! He picked itu p off the table and began to read:

The cold note said this:

Marius,

It's become clear that this was a mistake. Our marriage was wrong; perhaps we never were meant to be together after all. I think it's best we go our seperate ways. My father has found us, and he is taking me home. You needn't worry about me.

I wish you only the best, Monsieur Pontmercy.

Cosette

How could this be? Anger seethed through his veins- how could she up and leave him? They'd been married only three months. She was so immature, so childish! Three months, she couldn't stand something! She got tired of it, so she left. How selfish! And her father, no doubt, had urged her to go back home, and she'd eagerly obeyed.

Did she forget the fact that, since she was married, she did not need to obey her father, and was supposed to honor her husband? No, she did not forget. She chose to dishonor her husband and go back to being a child.

Marius turned over in bed, tired of reliving this all, his teeth clenched.

Cosette had slept here the night before. How could she have been happy enough to sleep beside him one night, and then leave the next? He thought back to the game they played a few nights ago- he and Cosette had laid awake on a Saturday evening, not caring at all about staying up very late, for he had the day off the next day. He was lying on his stomach, and she was tracing words with her warm fingers against the skin of his back, making him try to guess what she was writing. He remembered feeling her skin against his, her soft skin laying on his when she'd lean over to whisper something to him...

But that had not been a few nights ago at all, had it? Once he thought of it, Marius realized that had been the first week they'd married, the first Saturday night they'd spent in England. For the past two to three weeks, Cosette had slept stiffly, her arms crossed around herself, curled up on the side of the bed away from him.

How had he urged her away so completely? He had loved her- he knew that within his heart, it was just about the only thing he knew. He had driven her away.

What was there for him now? Marius sat up to think. He would have to go on, no doubt. He would have to stay here; he had a job. Going back to Paris, back where he might see her, would only be worse. He could not return to her. It struck him as ironic that this whirlwind relationship with Cosette ended with him in England, and she back with her father in Paris. Hadn't he once promised her that they would go somewhere where no one and nothing could touch them or tear them apart?

But she did not love him. That much was clear. Once he was positive she loved him. The Marius who had ridden out on the boat to England, hopeful and in love and thinking the world rested on Cosette's shoulders, was gone. A cold, hardened one took his place. Cosette did not love him, or even care what became of him. So what did the rest matter?

The rue plumet was not a welcome sight to Cosette. The flowers and the beauty of it should have been consoling to her, but instead they only made her sick to her stomach. The leaves were just beginning to put on their autumn coats. Cosette usually found that to be one of the most beautiful times of the year. This year she felt differently.

"Goodnight, father," she said sadly, kissing him on the forehead and taking herself up to her room.

When her father had found her, she had so happy. She had not even realized how much she'd missed him, and then when he came for her, she was gloriously happy. She'd cried to him about how lonely she was, and she apologized for hurting him.

He asked her if she wanted to go home. In a flight of maliciousness, she'd said yes.

Valjean talked her out of her idea of marriage, talking her into being a child again. Cosette was all too eager to comply. She packed her things, wrote Marius that note, and left, excited to go back to her old life. Marius was wrong. He'd been even worse than her father. At least her father had spent time with her!

They fled back to France a few days later, and Marius had never tried to stop her. When they returned home, she signed the divorce papers her father procured, and then they sent them to Marius. Her father was upset she had not been married in the Catholic church, but Cosette did not mind. At least it was easier to end the marriage, since she had been married in a Protestant church.

But it only took a few days for her to have those creeping feelings of regret. She would go to sleep, and dream of running somewhere. Marius was behind her, unable to catch her, even though she wanted him to. She would wake up, tearful, and remember his smile and his laugh and his voice, and an ache would set in on her chest.

She remembered the day she married him, and how she did not know the words of the ceremony, but it did not matter, because she was with him.

The stupidness of what she'd done occurred to her. She loved him so powerfully, so incredibly much, and she'd thrown it all away at the first signs of discontent. She had not been fair to Marius.

Her father never worked- it never struck her that that was odd. He made it clear that they were not wealthy, and yet he never seemed to have to work. She held it against Marius that he was working, spending his time making sure they both could survive. Some nights, he came home and tried to spend time with her. But she, angry, would go to bed in a huff instead.

Not that he was entirely correct, she knew he wasn't. They both had not given marriage a real chance. Every time she thoguht of him, so would grow sick to her stomach.

In fact, she was nearly always sick to her stomach these days. In the month since she'd returned from England, she was nearly always off-color and feeling unpleasant.

"You probably picked up a bug on the ship," her father said. "Those English really aren't very clean people."

Cosette had accepted this, until it became clear that she was not getting any better.

"Why don't we call a doctor?" her father asked, and she complied.

A few questions were all the doctor needed to know what was 'wrong' with her. Solemnly, as if it was the worst thing in the world, he informed them that Cosette was pregnant. He even had the gall to say that he knew someone who could 'take care' of the issue for her. He apologized to her father, not knowing that she had been married once upon a time.

Valjean was quick to see the man out.

Cosette, on the other hand, was not unhappy with this news, but not for a typical reason. She knew that, if she was to have Marius' child, well... he might come back.

He would come back, wouldn't he?

"Marius deserves to know," Cosette said, blushing. It was not a topic she was comfortable discussing with her father.

"I will take care of everything," Valjean said to Cosette. But he did not write to Marius; he had no intention to.

Marius had taken her once. Valjean would not give him a chance to come back and take her again. He knew it was selfish, but he refrained from writing him. It was all it took; Cosette thought Marius did not care that she was having his baby.

Decisively this time, Cosette felt her heart break.

Valjean saw this happen, and felt his own heart break. It was clear Cosette loved Marius, and was hurt by leaving him. But he could not bear to lose her...

"I'm sorry, Monsieur," the doctor said to Valjean. For the past few weeks, Valjean had been having horrible stomach pains.

Cosette sat with him, looking frightened. She had only just started to show, but now her pregnancy was far from her mind.

"There is only so much to be done," the doctor said, before informing Valjean and his daughter that he had a tumor in his stomach. He prescribed some foods to eat, but it was clear that Valjean did not have much time.

"Oh, father," Cosette sobbed. "I can't- what am I going to do without you?"

"You will be fine," he said. "You will be well-cared for."

"Not without you," she said tearfully.

Valjean had only once issue: the money. Cosette was too young yet to possess it herself. She needed a guardian to maintain the trust. But who? They had no friends, no one to trust to keep her safe. He brought this up to her one day.

"I have enough money for you," he informed her. "You needn't worry about getting by safely. You will want for nothing. But I do not know who to leave it with, when I am gone."

"Father," she protested, not wanting to talk about this.

"It needs to be thought of, dear," he said gently. "Who shall I leave the money with?"

She was quiet for a long time. Then she spoke, not looking at him. "Once, I would have said you should leave it with Marius Pontmercy... but it's clear he does not care at all about me, if he did not even write back when he found out I was going to have a baby... But he is a honest man, father, one of the most honest I know. He is true to his word and could be trusted with any amount of money. But he wants nothing to do with me, so I don't think we can use him."

Valjean's stomach twisted, but not from his illness. Hot guilt bubbled when he looked at his daughter, hurt from a broken heart, missing this Marius, led to believe he did not love her. Valjean did not know for sure how this Marius thought of her- indeed, he never wrote to them to try and convince Cosette to come back- but Valjean knew he had not been given a fair chance. He did not know about his child, he was never given the chance to prove himself.

Besides, Valjean saw how hurt Cosette was without him. If Valjean left Cosette's money in his care, he would have to come see her, or at least write to her. They would be in contact again, and maybe they would fall back in love. Cosette would be happy when he was gone.

It was hardly fair of him to keep her for himself when he was living; it would be entirely selfish to keep her lonely when he was dead.

"You need not worry," was all he said to her.