Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

Valjean was not entirely sure that he had heard her correctly.

She had just been thoroughly convinced that she was dying and suddenly she wished to enter into matrimony with him? He was…quite a bit older than she was even without all of those secrets he could never tell her or her child. She had never shown any interest in anything like that for as long as he had known her, either, and he knew that Cosette must not have known of this plan or the girl never could have kept quiet about it. Making such a spontaneous life-changing decision like that…was her fever back?

He aborted his movement to check (though he would have to do that now that that thought had occurred to him) because he realized just how insulting it would be to her, feverish or not, if he were to respond to her offer of marriage by assuming she was even more ill than she had been previously.

Fantine kept her eyes steady on his but he could see that it was a struggle for her to do so. "Monsieur le maire?"

He knew that he should say something but for the life of him he had no idea what. He had never expected to be in this sort of position. He had never had anyone to offer a woman and then for nineteen years there were no women at all. As the wealthiest man in the area and mayor, he had had a few speculative glances thrown his way but his habit of keeping to himself and declining most social invitations insured that nothing ever came of that.

And then…this. A marriage proposal from a dying woman's bedside. How did one go about handling things like this?

"I…" He trailed off, still undecided about how to respond. "I had not expected to hear such a request, Fantine."

Finally, she looked down. "Oh, I know how absurd it must seem to you. A prostitute and the mayor of the town! You are good not to laugh outright."

He had not even considered that. How could he? If people saw the prostitute and the convict they see them as well-matched and offer any spare pity they might have had to her for at least she was not a thief.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it, prompting her to look up at him, shame still burning her cheeks.

"That has nothing to do with anything," he said firmly. "People may talk; people do little else. You must know, Fantine, that I do not condemn you for the path that your life has taken."

That earned a rueful smile. "Then you would be the only one who did not. I only thank God that my dear Cosette does not know."

"She will never know," Valjean swore.

Fantine nodded her head in agreement. "She would be ashamed."

"She would be heartbroken at what the world has done to you and what you have had to do for her sake," Valjean corrected. "I do not condemn you, Fantine, because I know something of seeing no other options. You had a child, the father was nowhere to be seen, and you needed work. You cannot work with a small child to support so you left her with those with the time to watch her. When your child was discovered and you were fired then of course you needed to find something else to do. The Thénardiers kept demanding more money and you had to find a way to pay them. If there was no work to be had that could offer you the money you needed for your child and you were faced with letting her die or…doing what you did then how could you have done otherwise?"

"Most people would say that I should not have had a child in the first place if I were not married," Fantine said softly.

"Is one mistake worth the forfeiture of your life and any sort of happiness?" Valjean asked rhetorically. "I do not believe that that is so. And, having met Cosette, I cannot see her as a 'mistake.'"

There were tears in her eyes now. "Monsieur le maire, you are too good!"

The words felt like a blow. It had been his factory that had dismissed her because of his insistence of his workers having what he had seen as proper morals. He still felt that that was important, of course, but this poor woman (barely more than a girl) who had done everything to protect an innocent child…what was wrong with her morals? Society would look at her actions and disagree but he and the morals of society had been known to disagree.

"You will say no," Fantine predicted suddenly.

Valjean blinked, needing a moment to remember what it was she was speaking of. Ah, yes. She had wanted to marry him. "I was not aware that you felt that way about me," he said carefully.

She looked infinitely sadder. "It is not…I was in love once and it destroyed me. Years later it is killing me. I do not think that I have it in me to love again. Or maybe it is life that will not let me."

The words pulled at his heart; old sins cast long shadows. Her predicament now, however indirectly, did all stem from her once-love, hadn't it? And what of him? Did he even remember her, this woman whom he had destroyed?

"I know what you are thinking," she said, a gleam of defiance in her eye now. He very much doubted that. "You are thinking that I am cruel to ask that of you if I could not even love you. Well, you are so good and kind that had things been different I have no doubt that I could! But you would not be saddled with me for long. I am, as I said, dying. I…It won't be long now. I am certain of it."

"If you do not wish to marry me and do not even expect to live long enough to reap the benefits of such a union then why do you ask?" Valjean asked gently, trying to understand.

"I told you," Fantine said, her voice so quiet that he could barely make out the word. "My Cosette."

Understanding filled his eyes. "Fantine, I already promised you that I would be a father to her if she wished me to and, if she does not," the words hurt to say, "then I will still give her the best life that I can. You do not have to sacrifice anything else in order to provide for your daughter."

And it would be a sacrifice for her. She would have to lie before God when the priest asked if she would promise to love him and that was the very last thing she needed to be doing while so close to joining Him at last. Some people had little choice but to lie, though Valjean liked to believe that they at least tried, but Fantine had no need of that.

He had promised that Cosette would be looked after and he had meant it.

"I know and I did believe you, I just…" Fantine looked lost. "You are not a relative. What if they will not let you keep my child?"

"You can sign the papers giving her over to me," Valjean assured her. "I will have them drawn up as soon as I leave here. And even if we did not manage to do that, I am the mayor of this town. No one will tell me that I cannot raise an orphan child if that is my wish."

He grew uncomfortable with the sheer force of gratitude dawning on her face but stayed there all the same.

Somehow, despite the fact that he was pretty sure that they had been alone and he had not spoken of what had happened, Javert had found out about Fantine's proposal. As he had yet to cease acting like Valjean was the most gullible and naïve man in France, he had immediately assumed that there was going to be a wedding.

Valjean did not feel the need to quickly disabuse him of this notion.

"Monsieur le maire, be reasonable," Javert pleaded. "It is one thing to wish to help a prostitute and make sure her child is taken care of but actually marrying one? You cannot possible do this!"

"Why can I not?" Valjean asked rhetorically. "Neither of us are previously married and it would create a stable home environment for little Cosette. I have grown quite fond of her, you know, so raising her will be no burden at all."

"It is the fact that she has never been married that is precisely the problem!" Javert exclaimed. "And you! You are our mayor! You cannot be seen to be engaging in such depravity!"

"What is so depraved about getting married?" Valjean asked blankly. It was almost sweet. He who had seen and been submerged in the very worst that humanity had to offer for nineteen long years was now seen as needing to be protected from it by one of those men who had been duty-bound to keep him chained in that hell. But those days were behind him now, he was irrevocably free for better or for worse and he had nothing more to fear from the inspector who had only ever done his duty. "I would have thought that having a family of my own would make me more…relatable. It is perfectly normal for a man my age, if he has not already settled down, to seek out a wife."

"Well…yes," Javert conceded, flustered. "But not like this! You need a respectable woman, not a prostitute!"

"She has given that up," Valjean informed him. "What is more respectable than a penitent sinner?"

Javert looked like he was going to die of shock. "Why would you even consider this, even if you cannot see the multitude of reasons why this is the second-worst idea you've ever had?"

Well, it would seem that Javert still placed 'falsely' admitting to being himself as a worse decision. Personally Valjean thought that stealing that bread as he had or that first escape attempt (and possibly the ones that came after) were all worse decisions. Maybe even stealing from the bishop for all that that had saved his life. And however much of a decision had been involved in taking that poor child's forty-sous piece.

Still, Valjean had told himself that he was making a terrible decision from the moment he had first resolved to go to Arras but it had all worked out in the end for everyone but Champmathieu whom everyone just seemed to forget about. He felt a strange compulsion to go see the wretched man but he pushed that aside because now was really not the time for such thoughts.

"Why does anyone get married?" Valjean asked rhetorically.

"To continue their family lines, to have children to one day help with the work, for financial reasons, because it is what society expects, because they wish to remain respectable while engaging in activities only permitted in marriage," Javert counted off on his fingers.

Valjean felt strangely sad that he had missed the most obvious (though perhaps, sadly, not the most common) reason for marrying.

"When there is love involved how can it be anything but respectable given that love comes from God?" Valjean asked.

Javert gave him a look that said 'Do you really want me to answer that?' and Valjean really did not want to hear him listing off every instance of love gone wrong or being torn apart by society.

"How have you even managed to find the time to fall in love?" Javert demanded, throwing his hands up in the air. "She's been confined to a hospital bed dying since you two met!"

"This was several months ago," Valjean pointed out. "And I have heard of such things happening before. People often grow fond of those that care for them."

"Is this about the child?" Javert wondered, trying to make sense of what was happening and clearly believing that it was impossible for anyone to have actually fallen in love with a prostitute. "You can still pay to make sure she has a better life than she is due. I cannot believe I am encouraging this but I can live with moderation. And you can find another child to take in if you do not wish to have your own without having to marry the mother as well!"

Valjean watched him placidly. "I like Cosette."

That set him off all over again.

He did feel the slightest bit of guilt at so distressing the Inspector when he was only trying to help but he consoled himself that this was not being done solely for his own amusement. No, he was preparing the way and softening the blow for Javert to find out that he was – if she permitted it – going to be personally raising Cosette after Fantine's death.

And who knew? He might just be so relieved that there would be no wedding that he would more-or-less just accept it.

That might just be wishful thinking on his part, however.

"Cosette?" Valjean began, telling himself that he was absolutely not feeling nervous. There was no reason to be nervous. It was just a question of names, after all, and he had traded one for another easily enough. It really did not matter what she called him.

Cosette immediately set aside her doll and ran up to him, beaming. "Hello!"

Valjean couldn't help the smile that came over his own face just then. "Child, there is something I must speak with you about."

Cosette nodded and tried to look serious. It was adorable. "What is it?"

"You know that your mother is very sick, right?" he asked rhetorically.

Cosette looked down and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "I know. She says that she doesn't know if she's ever going to get better. Is…is my mama going to die?"

What could he say to that? He would have had to broach the subject somehow but to talk to a child of her mother's imminent passing…He wished that he knew what to say. Were there words for times like this?

"I do not know, child," Valjean said at last, absently taking her hand in his.

Tears began to swim in her eyes. "I don't want her to die!"

"No one wants her to die," Valjean promised her, almost automatically. "And she may not."

"B-but what if she does?" Cosette persisted.

"If your mother dies," Valjean said very slowly. "If your mother dies then I will take care of you."

She looked almost happy to hear this. "You will?"

"Of course I will," Valjean said firmly, nearly hurt that she even had to ask. But she was a child and her mother wondered the same thing. He told himself that it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with how life had treated them in the past. Hadn't he been astonished that the bishop had let him stay? The bishop had been the best of men and never gave him reason to think otherwise.

"If I cannot stay with mama then I want to stay with you," Cosette decided, completely unprompted. "You saved me."

Valjean blinked at that. "Oh, child, I did nothing," he hastened to correct her. "Your mother was the one who wanted you back by her side and Inspector Javert was the one to go to Montfermeil and bring you back here."

"Mama wanted me with her since the minute she left," Cosette said matter-of-factly and Valjean wondered just how many times Fantine had had to reassure her child of that before she began to believe it. "And Inspector Javert went there because you told him to. He said."

Of course he had and probably while making it quite clear it had meant nothing to him.

"Besides," she added, unwittingly confirming his suspicions, "I don't think he likes me."

"He likes you just fine," Valjean claimed.

Cosette looked skeptically at him.

"He…does not spend much time around children," he said delicately.

"You saved me," Cosette said again. "You are the kindest man I know and you always play with me and make sure everyone is being nice to me. If Mama dies then I want to stay with you." She looked down. "Unless you want to send me away. Please don't send me away! I like it here."

"I won't send you away," Valjean assures her, shocked. The thought had never even crossed his mind. This precious child deserved so much more than to just be cast off and made someone else's concern with his just paying them for the privilege.

Cosette nodded, clearly relieved and smiling again despite what her living within Valjean's keeping would mean. "I lived with my Mama and I lived with those bad people and one day I may go live with you. I don't want anything to do with them but I like you."

"Cosette," Valjean said, uncertainty gnawing away at him. He had to ask, however. He had promised he would and, despite himself, he found himself hoping that she would answer in a particular way.

"Yes?" she asked innocently.

"Would you like me to be your papa?"

There. It was out now. He silently cursed himself for just saying is so plainly but how else could he have said it? What manner of dressing it up would have made it easier to just leave hanging out there, painfully awaiting her response?

He did not have long to wait.

The moment Cosette comprehended the question she threw herself into his arms with cries of 'Papa!'

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