In the days that followed, Gavroche's illness went from bad to worse. Painful coughing fits kept him awake at night (along with Javert and Eponine). The rare moments when he was able to sleep were plagued with feverish nightmares. The days he spent in a listless daze, barely conscious of what was going on around him.

Through all the anxious days and sleepless nights, Eponine refused to leave her brother's side. She wiped the sweat from his forehead; bathed his face with cool water; tried to get him to drink the cups of tea and soup Mme. Pascal sent up; held him when he woke up crying from a nightmare, and sang him back to sleep; and did her best to comfort him. Azelma mostly stayed clear of the sickroom, preferring to help Mme. Pascal with household chores, eager to make herself useful in a tangible way. Yet oftentimes she would sit quietly by herself, "brooding," as Mme. Pascal would say, and after a while would slip upstairs for a moment or two to sit with Eponine. Sometimes they would talk; most often they sat together in silence, ever alert to the slightest cough or moan from Gavroche.

"The fever is rising. He's nearing the crisis," said Dr. Leblanc, after one of his daily visits. "You'll want to keep a close watch on him tonight, Inspector. We'll know soon enough if he's going to recover, or if…well, we'll just have to wait and see. Good evening, Inspector."

Having seen the doctor out, Javert asked Mme. Pascal to brew a pot of coffee. He climbed the stairs slowly, and went into his room. By the dim light from the fireplace, and a single candle by the bed, he could see Eponine's silhouette. When he laid a hand on her shoulder, she startled, and looked up at him. "What did the doctor say?" she asked. "He said we'll know by tonight whether or not Gavroche will pull through," Javert answered. "You should go to bed, Eponine," he added, "You've hardly slept in days. It won't do to have you taken ill as well. Get some sleep."

"I won't leave him." Eponine's voice was firm. "He needs me now more than ever. I want to be with him, no matter what happens."

"Very well." As he had done for several nights now, Javert pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed. Eponine pulled the blanket up over Gavroche's shoulders, and stroked his cheek. "It's so strange to see him like this," she murmured, "Usually he's so full of life, it seems like nothing could bring him down. He's hardly ever sick. It must be scary for him."

"Rather frightening for you as well, I imagine, is it not?" said Javert. Eponine nodded. "You know the way you care for him is truly remarkable," Javert continued, "It seems at times as though you're more like a mother to him than a sister."

"I'm the only family he's got," said Eponine quietly. "My parents threw him out of the house when he was barely more than a toddler. They didn't want anything to do with him. There's Azelma, but she stays at home most of the time and doesn't go out much by herself. I'm the one who's always been there for him. He had colic when he was a baby––Papa used to get annoyed with his crying, and I'd always be the one who had to go try and get him to settle down.

He used to follow me around––my little shadow; everywhere I went he'd be one step behind me. And then, when we moved here, and he was out on his own, he'd always come running to me. I could always tell when he was close by, because I'd hear him singing; and then he'd see me, and his face would light up with this huge grin, and he'd come running over and tell me about all his adventures. Sometimes it felt like he was the only person in the world who wanted to be around me. I can't…imagine…life without…" She turned away, but Javert could see she was blinking back tears. He silently handed her a handkerchief.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The wind whistled around the corners of the house, driving snowflakes up against the windowpanes. At last, Eponine broke the silence. "Inspector," she said, "You didn't have to take us in. You could've left us under the bridge."

"Strictly speaking, you were trespassing," Javert replied, "It was my duty to see that you did not remain there."

"You said you were going to arrest us," said Eponine quietly, "What made you change your mind?"

"If you must know, you…reminded me of someone."

"Who?"

"Myself."

Eponine tilted her head to one side quizzically. "How'd we ever manage that?" Javert gave her a wry smile. "I wasn't always a police inspector, you know," he said, "Actually, I grew up in circumstances much like yours. I was born behind bars, if you can believe it. My mother was a gypsy, my father a convict, and I decided early on I wanted nothing to do with either of them. I grew up on the streets; no family to speak of, and very few friends…except for one." He stopped, shaking his head. "I don't know why I should tell you this," he said, "I have never told anyone."

"You can tell me," said Eponine, "I'm listening."

"There was a boy," Javert continued, "a little boy named Daniel. He was like a brother to me. We shared everything––even though we had little to share. He was four years younger than me; brightest child I ever knew. He could always find something to smile about, even on the darkest day. He was the only person I ever truly cared about, because I knew that he…loved me…admired me, even…though I never knew why.

"When he was only eight years old, Daniel fell sick. I never knew the name of his illness, or what caused it. I blamed myself, even though I knew there was nothing I could have done to protect him. What could I do? I was twelve years old; I had no money, no home, no family––there was nothing I could do to save him. He died in my arms." Javert turned away from the light, but Eponine could still see the trails of tears running down his face. "I have never forgotten Daniel," he whispered, "try as I might. If I could have saved him…" He swiftly wiped away his tears and turned toward Eponine once more. "When I found you under the bridge, and I saw Gavroche looking up at me––it was Daniel's face I saw. It was as if I had been given a second chance; a solemn charge from my dear friend and brother not to let another child suffer the same fate. I cannot save every child in Paris, but in that instant, I vowed that I would do all I could to save Gavroche."

It was a long night for Javert and Eponine. For long stretches of time there was silence between them, each one lost in thought. As the night wore on, to keep themselves awake, they exchanged stories––of Eponine's childhood, of Javert's work with the police, of Gavroche, and of Daniel. They spoke in hushed voices for fear of waking Gavroche, though there was little chance of that. The boy lay still as stone, insensible to their anxious vigil.

Toward four o'clock in the morning, they had run out of things to say. Eponine was beginning to nod off when she heard Javert call her name. Immediately her eyes snapped open. "What is it?" she asked. She looked down at Gavroche's pale face on the pillow beside her. "Is he…?" she gasped, unable to say the word aloud. "Please tell me he's not…he can't be…Oh Gavroche!"

"No, no." Javert put his hand on her shoulder to calm her. "The fever's broken," he whispered, "See for yourself." Eponine felt Gavroche's forehead. It was still warm, but nowhere near as hot as it had been. A soft sigh escaped his lips; he turned his head toward her so that her hand now rested on his cheek. Eponine looked up at Javert and smiled. "He's going to be all right?" Javert nodded. "Yes, he will. You can go to bed now."

"Not a chance," said Eponine, "I want to be here when he wakes up."

As the first rays of dawn peeped in through the window, Gavroche finally stirred. He blinked a few times, then opened his eyes. " 'Ponine?" he whispered hoarsely. Eponine could not contain herself any longer. She threw her arms around him, tears of joy running down her face. "Gavroche!" she cried. Javert stood back, not wanting to interrupt their happy reunion, but when Eponine finally released Gavroche, he caught the boy in his arms and hugged him tight. Gavroche stared up him with a look of amazement and confusion. "Inspector?"

Azelma's bare feet pounded down the hall; she stood breathlessly in the doorway. "Gavroche," she gasped. "Please say he's not…Oh!" she cried, seeing Gavroche sitting up. She ran into the room and jumped onto the bed, throwing her arms around her little brother. "Why does everyone keep hugging me?" Gavroche wondered aloud. "You gave us quite a scare," said Javert, "We're glad to have you back."

A dry cough broke from Gavroche's lips. "I'll get you some water," said Eponine, jumping up. She swayed unsteadily on her feet; Javert caught her arm. "Oh no you don't," he said, "You've been up all night; it's time you got some sleep."

"But I'm not––" Eponine's protest was interrupted by a huge yawn. Azelma giggled. "I'll get the water," she said, "You go to bed."

"Oh fine," Eponine mumbled. Leaning on Javert's arm, she stumbled off toward her room and collapsed onto the bed. Javert shook his head slightly. "Sleep well, Eponine," he murmured, "You've earned it."