A/N: *pokes head up and waves* Hi! Yes, I'm alive after all. Life has just been super crazy busy, especially the last couple months. So I have a bunch of other stories (not to mention essays) I'm supposed to be working on, but instead I was finishing this and a Captain America fic. Oops. Ahem.

The initially planning for the story was for the June Marriage Prompt Fest over on Ani-maniac's Christian Fan Fiction (CFF) on LJ -see her profile for the link. Obviously, I'm a little late, lol. By a lot. It has been sitting finished on my computer for a couple months now and every now and again I'd open it up and revise it. Then I realized what today was and decided to it was a good day to post it. :)

Ani-maniac, this one is for you, in honor of your birthday. Happy birthday, dear sister of mine! :D You are a wonderful, kind, hard-working, brilliant woman and I am honored to call you friend and sister of my heart. God bless you! I hope this little gift makes you smile.

Cheers!

Prompt:

"My beloved is mine and I am his." - Song of Songs 2:16

My Beloved

A woman absently gazed out the sitting room window, the last rays of daylight washing over her. A string of chestnut brown locks was twisted in her fingers, the rest of her dark tresses were hanging loose and long down her back. She wore a simple floral patterned dress with a deep blue sash tied around her slender waist. It was not a grand gown like wealthy women tended to wear, but on her it did not need any extra frills or folds. The simplicity suited her.

The woman was the perfect image of serenity. To all who may have passed by the small Parisian home at that time and seen this dark-haired statue, they would have taken her for a lady of standing in high society. No poor woman could have held herself with such grace or poise! But, had they dared approach nearer and seen her better, they would have been shocked to realize the truth. Up close, they would have seen the flowers were faded from repeated washing and the sash was stained and threadbare. No aristocratic woman would be caught wearing such a garment. They would have gone on, confounded by the woman who held herself like a queen but wore the clothing of a peasant.

Perhaps if someone from Montreuil were to pass by and seen this visage in the sitting room window, they would have paused and taken a second look. Then, he would have shaken his head, muttering to himself, "Great Scott, that woman looks familiar! She reminds me of that woman from the factories who raised such a fuss when she was fired. Mayor Madeleine, that convict who deceived us, he took pity on her! What was her name? Ah, Fantine! But Fantine is dead and so is the convict Jean Valjean. It cannot be her."

The man would have then carried on down the street, content in his rationale.

He would have been wrong. For indeed it was Fantine standing in the window of the little house.

Fantine was lost in thought, oblivious to the portrait she made. She was pondering on the small golden ring on her finger, an object she had only dreamed of ever being given.

After Felix Tholomyes had abandoned her and child, Cosette, Fantine had vowed to never fall in love again. How could she ever loved another man, give herself wholly to someone who only wanted her body? It was not possible. She could not do it. Once Cosette was born she had put all such thoughts from her mind. Fantine may have been naïve and dreamed of her love, but she was no fool. No man would ever love a fallen woman such as her, nor would he have anything to do with her unless it was in an improper sense. Fantine had been alone. So, she had not concerned herself with men, letting her world shrink to that of her child.

It had been with great sadness and reluctance she had left her child behind in the care of an innkeeper and his wife before continuing back to the town of her birth, Montreuil. She had heard there were jobs available at the factory there and had not wanted anyone to know about her illegitimate child. They would have never given her a job then. Every day she had worked hard to earn the money she had needed to send to the innkeeper for Cosette's care.

Everything had changed the day that busybody stole her letter and read it aloud in the workroom.

"Fantine?"

The musty aroma of parchment, ink, and earth filled her nostrils a moment before two strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. She sighed happily and leaned back into his embrace. Gentle lips caressed her forehead fondly. "What are you doing, my love?"

Fantine glowed, heart soaring at the soft endearment. My love. Yes, she was his love, and he was her's.

"I was remembering," she replied softly.

"Remembering what dear?"

"The day we met."

She could feel his mouth twist in her hair. "That was an eventful day, wasn't it?"

Fantine giggled. Saying it was an eventful day was putting it mildly. That day changed the whole course of Fantine's life; of her child's life.

After that wretched busybody read Fantine's letter, a fight broke out as she had tried to reclaim it. The mayor and owner of the factory had arrived then, breaking up the fight and rebuking them. Fantine had trembled in fear of the mayor being told she lied when she applied for job in his factory and had a child. But the mayor had been distracted by someone in his office whom he saw looking down at the factory floor. Quietly, he had left the matter in the hands of his foreman and left. Fantine had been torn between wishing he had remained and glad he was gone. The foreman, a rotten man, had listened to the lies of the other women when he had asked what had happened. He had fired her.

Desperation compelled her to call out to the mayor, pleading with the man who had walked away when the foreman had moved to throw her out. To her relief, the mayor had returned, saw her struggling in the foreman's grip, and had demanded her release. Frowning, the mayor had asked her to remain outside his office so they could discuss the problem after he met with the new police inspector.

The mayor and the inspector had barely more than a few minutes before there was a thunderous crash outside the factory. The foreman had already been shouting for the mayor as he had raced outside. Fantine and a few other workers followed and joined the growing crowd. An old man had fallen beneath his cart and he was trapped beneath it.

Horrified, Fantine had quickly realized like everyone else in the crowd that the heavy cart was crushing the man, sinking deeper into the mud. She had not been aware of the mayor's arrival until he had impossibly hoisted the cart up, bellowing for someone to grab the old man. Once the old man was to safety, the mayor had gone to the old man's side, checking on him. The feat had clearly taken much from him, for the mayor had been nearly as gray as his hair, sweat sticking to his brow. Fantine had thought this until she noticed the figure in the blue great coat. It had been the new police inspector, Javert.

At the time, it had puzzled her why the inspector had stared at the mayor in shock, almost as if he had recognized him. She had learned later it was indeed because Javert had recognized the mayor's great strength from Toulon.

The old man, Fauchlevant, bless his soul, had been ferried to the hospital for care. Stained with mud, the mayor had then turned and taken her back inside so they could speak. His disregard for his appearance, his rescue of the old man, and his gentle words had made telling him the whole humiliating truth harder and easier at once. When she had finished, the mayor told her because she had lied he could not continue to employ her in the factory since it was his one stipulation for working in his factory. Despair had pricked her, but it had been swiftly stemmed by his promise to find her employment elsewhere that would allow her to care for her child as needed.

Some would say it was the beginning of the end since it was that event that led the police inspector to suspect the mayor was not all he seemed. Fantine would disagree. While it had ensured future upheaval, it was merely the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. The story was not yet complete and only God Above knew the ending.

"Yes. I never thought someone would give me a job where Cosette could be by my side."

"No child should be without her mother and no mother without her child."

It was the exact same thing he told her that day when Fantine had asked him why he was helping her. She turned her cheek into his arm, closing her eyes, and absorbing his love as a flower absorbs sunlight.

"Is Cosette asleep?"

It was early to put the little girl to bed, but the little family was planning to set our early in the morning to deliver an order of new primers to the poor district schools. Cosette had been overjoyed to know she could come along. Seeing as it was Cosette's inspiration that led her husband to decide to buy the primers to donate anonymously, they could hardly refuse their daughter's plea to help deliver them. It was only right she was there.

"Sleeping like an angel."

Fantine turned and looked up into the hazel eyes of her husband, Jean Valjean; the man she had first known as Mayor Madeleine.

He was studying her, a smile, small but warm playing on his lips. Standing on tip toe, she captured those lips in her's. The kiss was tender and light, nothing at all like the heated, passionate kisses she had once shared with Tholomyes. Jean's kiss was infinitely sweeter and fuller. True. She had loved Felix deeply back then, but she knew in retrospect he had not shared her devotion. Jean returned her love tenfold. Fantine never imagined it was possible to love one person so completely or that she could be loved so in return.

When the kiss ended, Jean took her hand. "I want to show you something."

She tiled her head inquisitively. The crow's feet lining Jean's eyes deepened and the lines around his mouth creased deeper as he smiled, but he said nothing more. Lightly, he tugged on her hand. Something fluttered in her chest, a warmth and curiosity. Why was he being so secretive? She followed as he led her to the side door that led to the garden. Jean drew up short before she could fully pass through the doorframe, turning to face her.

"Close your eyes."

"Jean…"

"Please, darling. It's a surprise."

The last time she had been surprised by a man he had abandoned her and her child to face the cruel world alone. Fear curled her toes. Jean fidgeted, biting on his lip, eyes imploring and bright. His hand squeezed her's. Exhaling, her toes uncurled. Jean was not Tholomyes.

Fantine peered up at him through her lashes, the corner of her mouth lifting. "As you wish."

She closed her eyes, trusting him to guide her forward as she had already trusted him with her heart.

Jean took both of her hands in his. She marveled at their touch. Callous and warm, but extremely gentle and strong, his hands engulfed her hands, leading her forward confidently. She adored his hands. Whenever it was possible, she would hold his hands in her's. Jean's hands made her feel safe, protected, and loved.

They stopped. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach

"Can I open them?"

"No, not yet. Wait here."

Obediently she waited, keeping her eyes closed, reluctantly letting Jean stepped away. She followed the sound of her husband's steps with her ears. What was he doing? The cool spring air nipped at her cheeks. Something warm floated near and her nose picked up the scent of beeswax mixed and sweet perfume.

"Now can I open them?" Fantine asked her curiosity ready to burst from her like sun through the clouds when he returned to her side

Jean gently clasped her shoulders. "All right. Now."

Fantine opened her eyes, a soft gasp flying from her mouth. The garden had been transformed into a miniature Garden of Eden.

Her husband had declared the garden was Cosette's to do as she pleased when the little family had moved in. The little girl had been content to let it grow mostly wild with only her papa and herself trimming and planting a few flowers in the two years the family had lived there. Only a week before, Fantine had observed the first spring blossoms in the wild garden, barely the size of thimbles and button. Those small blossoms were now the size of her ten-year old daughter's fist and dotted the garden. There were several small candles scattered around, their winking light bouncing off the flowers making them twinkle and shine like rubies, pearls, and amethysts. The new leaves and ivy were like chains of emeralds, climbing along the walls and ground, framing the center piece which was a wooden table and chairs.

The table and chairs were made from oak if Fantine wasn't mistaken. The dark wood seemed to catch the candlelight, seeming to absorb it into the surface. The chairs were finely made, designed to be comfortable and sturdy unlike the old chairs they had in the garden before. The spread on the table held the greatest delight. At the center was a bouquet. The pearl white lilies, ruby red roses, pink orchids, wild honeysuckle, and jade maidenhair fern smiled at her. The bouquet was flanked on either side by a silver candlestick, the very ones the good bishop of Digne had gifted her husband years ago. They had been polished so that they sparkled like silver stars. The golden light the candles cast on the whole scene made it seem more like something from a dream and not a real setting before her.

It was all so stunning Fantine scarcely noticed the two plates of food set before the chairs on the table.

"Happy anniversary, Fantine," Jean whispered in her ear.

"Oh Jean," Fantine murmured, fingers touching her lips, at a loss for words.

She turned and found her husband looking down at her, his eyes gleaming with love. He stepped back and bowed deeply, holding out a single red rose to her. "Madame, may I have the honor of supping with you this evening?"

"Why thank you, monsieur," Fantine curtseyed, accepting the rose. Lifting it to her nose, she breathed deeply, letting the heavenly aroma fill her senses. She took his outstretched hand. "It is I who would be honored."

Later, after consuming the delicious meal, Fantine sat curled up in her husband's lap, a thick blanket wrapped around them both. The candles had burned low, leaving the moonlight to brighten the garden.

Jean and Fantine were both looking heavenward, admiring the glittering dots in the distance that winked like fireflies in the navy sky and the shining sliver of the moon. Before they had met, Jean and Fantine had often watched the stars during the bitter watches of the night, reflecting on their lives and the loneliness that filled them. Now when they looked to the heavens it was with joyful and grateful hearts that found more than comfort. The stars on high were a reminder that the Creator cared about them despite how small they were in the grand scheme of the universe. As such, stargazing was one of their favorite pastimes together.

Fantine's gaze wandered to Jean. Silver haired, with deep creases around his eyes and mouth, his skin tanned and rough from the long years toiling in the sun, he was not handsome. No, he beautiful. His merciful kindness to all those in need, his tender love for Cosette, and his deep faith in the Lord only made him more so. Fantine did not deserve a good man like him in her life. But here he was, holding her, loving her more than she had ever dreamed

Sensing her attention, Valjean looked down at her. Fantine cupped her hand on his cheek, tracing the crow's feet around his eyes with her fingertips. "Thank you, for all of this."

Jean's cheeks filled with color, and he ducked his head, pressing his warm cheek against her hair. "You're welcome, my love."

Fantine inhaled deeply, letting the joy swell inside her to the point she thought she might take flight. It was the perfect time to tell him.

"Jean dear."

"Hmm?"

"I have a surprise for you too."

Fantine took his hand, guiding it to rest on her stomach, pressing it there beneath her hands. She peered up at him through her eyelashes, waiting. Jean brow wrinkled in confusion for a moment, but then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped.

"Truly?"

The laughter bubbled out of her, light and free like her soul. "Yes! Yes, Jean."

He gaped at her, not responding. "Jean?" Fantine asked, suddenly worried. Wasn't he happy? Her alarm dissipated a moment later when his face abruptly split in a broad grin. "That's uh…that's…wonderful!"

Without warning, Jean claimed her mouth with his, his hand cupping her cheek. Her surprise rapidly faded, the enjoyment of her husband's lips against her lips banished all other thoughts. This must be what heaven tasted like. A small piece of heaven above…a promise of what was to come…

Eventually they broke their embrace.

"I do not deserve such happiness," Jean murmured, resting his forehead against her own, his voice raspy as he tried to catch his breath. She pressed her forehead to his as she tried to even her breathing as well. "But I thank God every day for bringing you and Cosette into my life."

"Me too," Fantine whispered.

Their lips met once more as the stars winked overhead.

The End

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Have a great day!