Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

Cosette was sitting on the edge of Fantine's bed and happily playing with her doll. She insisted that Valjean stay in there with them and Fantine had agreed so, despite his impulse to let the little family alone, he stayed in there with them. He was not sure what to make of it. It felt almost like…

Staying with Cosette meant being drawn into her games and, unlike a certain inspector he could mention, he was happy to oblige her. It took so little to make her smile.

"Catherine wants to play house," Cosette announced. "Mama can be the mama, you can be the papa, and I'll be the big sister."

Valjean glanced over at Fantine in concern. Assigning him that role in her life, even in a game, was dangerous and he expected Fantine to object.

Instead, she was smiling (her smile no longer frightened her daughter and this only made the smiles come easier) and coughed before saying, "I think that sounds lovely."

Slowly, Valjean nodded despite his unease.

"Catherine's feeling sick," Cosette informed them gravely. "She's the baby."

"How do we make her feel better, Cosette?" Fantine asked gently.

Cosette thought for a moment. "Catherine says that she needs everybody to hug her." She squeezed the doll tightly before passing it to her mother who not only obediently hugged her but smoothed the doll's hair back and kissed her on the cheek.

She passed Catherine to Valjean who took her hesitantly. He always felt a little ridiculous with that delicate doll in his hands and he could never completely shake the thought that he was going to break it. But Cosette was looking at him expectantly so he carefully enfolded the doll into a hug. He tried to pass it back to Cosette but she shook her head.

"Now you've got to sing to her so she'll feel better," she insisted.

Valjean blinked, feeling quite out of his element. When was the last time he had ever sung? Back in Toulon at some point though that was hardly what this child was looking for. Had he ever sung for his nieces and nephews? He could not remember. His sister had, certainly, but if he had ever known the words they had long since fled. And Cosette was still watching him.

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. "Little Catherine, baby girl, feel better so that you may play with Cosette. She wants you well and so do we so sleep now and be healthy when you wake."

It wasn't much as far as songs went (that was probably generous) and his singing was far from perfect but it seemed to make Cosette happy.

She finally accepted the doll and grinned up at him. "You're a really good papa."

Again he looked to Fantine who appeared perfectly unperturbed.

He was in trouble.

Javert was on his nightly patrol when he took note of a disturbance near where the prostitutes gathered. That's where the trouble always was. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to patrol the other, safer areas of the town. It was necessary, he reminded himself, to keep the better parts of town as nice as they were.

He walked over there to find three livid prostitutes with mud down their dresses and Bamatabois quickly cutting off what he had been saying (something about whores). There was mud on his hands and he hastened to wipe his hands off on the dress of one of the prostitutes. She looked like she would dearly like to smack him but refrained. Javert spared a moment to consider what he would do if anyone short of the mayor dared to do such a thing to him.

He was glad of her self-control. If she gave him a reason to arrest her then past experiences had taught him that Madeleine would probably appear out of nowhere to whisk her off to the hospital and determine to save her from her poor life choices. And of course she would have a tragic story and a precious child that was being mistreated somewhere. Madeleine would insist on bringing it to town and taking care of it just like with Cosette.

Really, how could one uphold the law when forced to contend with such things? But it was relatively innocuous compared to some of Madeleine's other world-saving plots so he contended himself with sending off a silent prayer that she would not provoke an arrest and had not already done something that would impel him to arrest her.

He turned to Bamatabois first. "Dare I ask what happened?"

"There is no need to hesitate, dear Inspector," Bamatabois assured him, grinning brightly. "But we do have to stop meeting like this."

"My route is always the same, Monsieur," Javert said flatly. "Perhaps you should stop finding yourself in this part of town."

Bamatabois shrugged apologetically. "Oh, I would if I could but it is such a convenient shortcut so I'd hate to lose it."

"Not wanting to be inconvenienced isn't really the same as not being able to do something," Javert pointed out.

"It is in my life," Bamatabois insisted. "In fact, that's how I make all of my decisions."

"That sounds terribly irresponsible," Javert said, not surprised in the slightest.

Another shrug. "It seems to be working out for me."

"What happened?" Javert demanded.

"I was just walking home and I guess these prostitutes must have started throwing mud at themselves or something," Bamatabois said innocently. "I really don't know what happened because I was averting my eyes like a good Christian ought."

Was he even trying to convince him?

"Is that so?"

"Well, as I said, I was not really paying attention so you'll have to ask them," Bamatabois said, inclining his head towards those lovely ladies.

"Is this true?" Javert asked, turning towards them.

The three prostitutes glared daggers at Bamatabois, clearly blaming him for whatever had happened.

"It is, Monsieur Inspector," one of them said finally. "I do hope that we did not cause any problems for anyone."

"Really, I don't think there's any need to press charges," Bamatabois said magnanimously. "They're prostitutes. Their lives are bleak enough as it is. What right do we have, any of us, to make things worse for them?"

The man may be bringing it all entirely upon himself but he was still a citizen who hadn't done anything that Javert had witnessed or been told about to break the law and so Javert thought it only prudent to escort him home to make sure that he didn't push anyone over the edge and lying in a gutter bleeding out somewhere.

It proved to be a good choice as Bamatabois actually seemed to think it was a good idea to wink and wave at them as they left.

"Why is it," Javert said slowly as they walked along, "that I keep finding you in these sorts of situations?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific," Bamatabois told him. "What do you mean by 'these situations'? I don't really detect a pattern here."

"This is the second time I've come across you in the middle of something with a prostitute," Javert pointed out.

Bamatabois looked genuinely offended. "Javert! I will not have such slander against my character! I have certainly never been caught consorting with a prostitute!"

As far as he knew, the other man was correct. "I mean, involved in some sort of a dispute," Javert clarified.

"Oh," Bamatabois said, relaxing. "I know that your question was not actually a yes or no question but I'm going to have to answer with a 'no' anyway."

Javert suppressed a sigh with difficulty. "Do go on, Monsieur."

"You have only ever seen me anywhere near a prostitute twice (that other time it was implied that I was going to walk past some but you were gone by the time that that happened) and that's hardly a pattern of behavior!" Bamatabois objected.

"I shall have to wait until it happens often enough that I can categorize it as a pattern of behavior, then," Javert said, not looking forward to that in the slightest.

"I'm sure it won't," Bamatabois said breezily. "I was hardly in a dispute with those, ahem, 'lovely ladies' back there and the only reason I had any dispute with what's-her-name was because that vicious whore attacked me out of nowhere."

Javert nodded. "Do you know what became of her?"

Bamatabois frowned. "No, why?"

Javert answered that question with one of his own. "But you did hear about Monsieur le maire's newest charity case up at the hospital?"

Understanding dawned slowly in Bamatabois' eyes. "Did he really? Why?"

"I could not tell you," Javert said honestly.

"So you'll see that I'm quite right about his charity problem. But you were asking me why you continue to happen to walk by when I encounter prostitutes since this is such a rare and unwelcome occurrence." Bamatabois shrugged indifferently. "Perhaps because you always patrol around these areas and so when I find myself in these sorts of situations you're around to witness it?"

"And I've been a witness to each and every encounter," Javert said, unable to disguise the skepticism in his voice.

"Every encounter that I've had to acknowledge their presence," Bamatabois amended. "I don't know how that came to be but I am truly fortunate as it helps me know that I am safe."

"You would be much 'safer' staying away from here," Javert said pointedly.

Another shrug. "That may very well be, dear Inspector, but I am not the one who invited the prostitutes to take up along my favorite route home now am I?"

"Monsieur le maire, I cannot thank you enough for what you've done for me and, most importantly, my darling Cosette," Fantine said once again. She was always thanking him for his actions even though it was only through his blindness that she had come to grief in the first place. It was so difficult to hear her praise and sometimes, cynically, he wondered if she knew that and any lingering resentment even partially motivated her words. Fantine was too good for that, though, and too forgiving. Her biggest crime was that she loved too much and she was perhaps the most grateful person in France.

"It was nothing, Fantine," he said quietly.

"You always say that and it is always so far from the truth!" she exclaimed. "I had long ago abandoned any hope that I would live to see my beautiful little girl again and you have given her back to me and I will not ever forget it."

"You should never have been separated in the first place," Valjean said firmly.

Fantine smiled sadly. "No we should not have been but that is not your fault."

Valjean stiffened. "I did not say that it was."

"You did not have to," Fantine said wisely. She sighed. "And now, though I would do anything for this not to be so, my child and I are to be separated again and this time for much longer."

Valjean unthinkingly took her hand in his. "You will live, Fantine, you're going to live. It's too soon for you to say goodbye."

Fantine smiled at him before a fit of coughing overtook her and she squeezed his hand. "That is sweet. I wish your words could make it so but I am going to die."

"Cosette needs you," Valjean said, a little desperately.

Fantine's eyes darkened and her limp hand slipped from his. "I know that. Cosette is back and she is so beautiful and I am off the streets. I could die happy if not for the worry over what is to become of her after I am gone."

He did not want to believe that Fantine was truly dying but the doctors had warned him that it was only a matter of time since before he had ever heard of Champmathieu and perhaps her race truly was run. This was the happiest ending Fantine could get, dying so young in years but an old woman just the same. Cosette, though…With Cosette there was still a chance for real happiness, proper happiness. She just needed to be cared for and held up to the light once her mother was gone.

"I will make sure that she has everything she could ever need," he vowed.

So many people would not understand. They already did not see why he blamed himself for Fantine's plight since he had had nothing to do with firing her and she had known the rules about propriety before she had even been hired and if they could understand his point they would consider his duty quite discharged with Fantine's death. Most of them would not dare outright say anything, he knew, but Javert might.

Javert who had been watching him closer than ever now that he was finally completely convinced that he was not, in fact, Jean Valjean. It was rather disconcerting but at least this time the gaze had nothing to do with considering imprisoning him. No, since their discussion about Arras, Javert seemed to have come to the conclusion that Valjean's good works were a sign of some sort of sickness that he had and must be protected from.

When a drunken man had jumped through a window at a tavern right as Javert happened to be on patrol, the inspector had shot Valjean a look warning him to not even confess to doing this because no one was going to believe him.

It was…very strange. For so much of his life he had been assumed to be guilty of everything just by virtue of having once succumb to the temptation to put his family's survival over the law and now he couldn't get people to believe that he was guilty of the things that he had done and freely confessed to. He was not quite at the point where he was seriously considering blatantly committing a crime right in front of Javert to see if the man would believe him then (and stop looking at him like he needed to be saved from his own goodness) but the fact that he was thinking of it at all rather spoke for itself.

Fantine was looking at him now the way she had looked at Cosette for the first time in years, like she was fortunate enough to witness a miracle and knew exactly how precious that moment was. "I know that I have no right to ask for this and that you have done far more than anyone else would have dreamed of but this is for my Cosette and so I must ask it all the same."

"You may ask me anything," Valjean said gently, trying to set her at ease.

"I appreciate that you promised to make sure that Cosette wants for nothing. You owe neither of us anything and so paying for her to go to school or whatever you have planned is already exceedingly generous but…" Fantine hesitated before ploughing right ahead. "I want more for my daughter than to be alone in this world with only a distant benefactor to watch out for her."

Valjean had not actually taken the time to think about how he would fulfill his promise to take care of Cosette but he could understand why Fantine would worry. Soon, but hopefully not too soon, she would be beyond having a say in the matter and so she must exert what influence she could while she still breathed. "What do you want?"

A deep breath and Fantine was looking him straight in the eye. "My child never had a father. She has a loving mother but soon she will lose that, too. I want to give her what that man never would. I want you to raise her as your own." There was a stubborn fire burning in her eyes but it was not a hopeful one. She was right that it was a very tall order and one that most people would refuse on the spot.

He could never outright turn down anyone seeking his aid, though. He had never thought to have a child of his own. He had never thought to. When he was younger he had never had any time to do more than glance at pretty girls (what had he to offer them if he could have found the time?) and how could one have a child without a girl to be the mother? Then when his sister started having children he might as well have had them, too, since he was living with them at the time, especially when his brother-in-law had died. Seven small children he was supporting and he answered to 'Uncle Jean.'

Toulon was where dreams went to die and afterwards he had been too wary of allowing anyone close enough to get suspicious to even consider looking for someone. Javert did not even have to be allowed close before he started to suspect but then Javert was as much the law as he was the man. And now that he was truly and completely free (aside from whatever chains his mind could conjure up for him) he was so out of practice at looking at women that he did not even know if he could begin again. And how could he possibly take an innocent woman and bind her to him without telling her the truth of his past? How could he subject someone that he cared for enough to want to keep beside him to those horrors that still haunted him? How could he expect her to stay after that?

No, he had never thought that a child lay in his future but evidently Fantine did. Not a child of his blood but one that needed him just the same. No one else seemed to care, Fantine was quite right about that, and he could not stomach the thought that her sacrifice would end in anything less than the happiest of futures for Cosette.

Children need not be burdened with the sins of their fathers and so he would not have to feel guilty for concealing that from her and her life could only be improved by his presence. That was a novel feeling. He was well-used to the good that his money could do but that was hardly the same. It would be easier for her, too, if after her mother died she was still with one that she liked and trusted. And he did want to keep her in his life.

It was strange. He could swear that it had never crossed his mind to keep Cosette with him but it was as if a part of him had just taken it for granted that he would. He immediately felt a wave of guilt wash over him because he never would have been able to do so if Fantine had recovered.

"Are you certain, Fantine?"

She drew back, surprised that he was not fighting her on this. "Having you raise her is the next best thing to raising her myself and I am much more certain of your character than those who I last left her with."

There was nothing really to be said in response to that. She need not know even as much as Valjean knew about how the Thénardiers had betrayed her trust. "If it is what Cosette wishes then I will be a father to her."

"It will be," Fantine said, managing a small smile. "She loves you."

Did she really? He knew that she was fond of him, certainly but this…There was a strange warm feeling in his chest but he ignored it in favor of focusing on the dying woman before him. "If she says as much then there is nothing that will stop me from doing as you ask."

Fantine nods. "I'm glad that you feel that way because I want to make sure that this is perfectly legal and no one can challenge this. I know that you are an important man, Monsieur, but I am a mother and I have to be sure."

"What would you have me do?" Valjean asked.

"For the sake of my dear Cosette..." Fantine trailed off and then started again. "Please. Marry me."

Review Please!