Chapter 1: Sickness

A/N: There aren't and will never be explicitly sexual scenes in this story. The "T" rating is for mature-ish themes that are already in Les Mis, such as prostitution.

The sun was setting on a cold February evening. In the mayor's house of Montreuil-sur-mer, Fantine lay half-deliriously in her sick-bed. She sat up with a start as the door to the next room creaked open. There, standing in the doorway, was Felix! Six years after he had abandoned Fantine and her baby, he had come back, just as in her dreams. As Felix smiled and tipped his hat, another appearance brought her to utter ecstasy: Cosette! Fantine's long-lost daughter was trailing behind Felix, holding onto his finger with filial affection.

Fantine did not have time to greet Felix and Cosette before they transformed before her eyes. Felix's carefree face morphed into the imposing one of Inspector Javert, while Cosette fell on all fours and turned into a police dog. The Inspector advanced toward Fantine's bed, carrying a pair of handcuffs. "You are under arrest for assault on a citizen," he announced with a booming yet frigid voice. He grabbed her hand to place the handcuffs on her wrist; she tried to scream but no sound came out. The accusation continued: "You have also violated your parole." Confusion permeated Fantine's terror--this last charge made no sense!

She awoke clutching the blankets. Had all of this been just another fever-inspired dream? A man's hand was indeed holding hers, but it was only that of Monsieur Madeleine, the kindly gentleman who had been caring for her. He was the mayor of Montreuil-sur-mer and the most powerful man in town, but he acted unlike any authority figure Fantine had ever known. She expected them to act like Inspector Javert, who had condemned and tried to arrest her. Yet the mayor had interceded to save her from his wrath, and for this she felt a gratitude beyond words. Now her savior spoke to her gently: "Mademoiselle, how are you feeling today?" Even his manner of talking made her swoon; "Mademoiselle" to a prostitute was as nourishing as "Monsieur" to a convict.

Fantine snapped out of her reverie and realized she still had a raging fever. "Still very badly," she whispered hoarsely, "but I feel a little bit better now that you're here."

"Do you need anything? I brought another pillow."

She shook her head. Her thoughts descended once again into a confused haze. She could not remember whether the visitors of a few minutes ago had been real or part of a dream. "Is my Cosette here?"

Monsieur Madeleine reached down and comfortingly stroked her forehead. "Yes, Cosette is here, playing in the garden just like yesterday. You'll be able to see her soon."

"What about the Inspector?" Fantine sobbed.

The Mayor drew away his hand, startled. His expression changed to alarm, though he was trying to conceal it. "Javert--he was--did you see--?" A flash of inspiration crossed his face. "Yes, Javert has also been here, and he tried again to arrest you. I threw him out, but I don't know how much longer my word will restrain him. Tomorrow morning, I will take you away from here, so that he cannot find you." He took a deep breath. "I have already sent Cosette ahead of us."

Fantine stared confusedly. Hadn't Monsieur Madeleine just told her that Cosette was there in the garden? She told wondered if this, too, had been part of some dream. Every day she felt less able to distinguish between dreams and reality.

"Now go back to sleep, mademoiselle," he concluded. "We'll have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." He left the room. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought she heard his footsteps pause at the door for a few minutes. Could he be watching her?

Fantine opened her eyes to the weak morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Monsieur Madeleine's hands were around her waist, lifting her and her blankets into the air. She was amazed at his strength as he carried her outside to a hired coach. He gingerly placed her on the seat, then went back into the house for more bed-linens. Once they were arranged around Fantine's body, she felt nearly untouched by the frigid February air.

The mayor himself sat up front with the driver. She heard him speaking: "This woman is very ill. I would never let her travel, except that it is absolutely necessary. Please be very careful not to jolt around, for a rough ride may kill her."

The driver looked back at her with curiosity. "Who is she?...Hah, I know who that girl is! It's Fantine, the whore! I've seen that wretch prowling the streets. The cheapest and ugliest of all, with hair cut off and teeth missing!" He pointed to his two front teeth and guffawed. "Tell me, Monsieur Mayor"--these two words said sarcastically--"what are you doing in Paris with a girl like her? Having a little tryst, are we? Who'd have known your tastes were like that!"

He replied with disgust in his voice: "I'm taking her to see a doctor I know there, who is more skilled than anyone in this town. Surely you can see that she desperately needs a doctor's care."

"Always the benefactor, even to the scum of the earth," the driver grumbled.

The two men lapsed into hostile silence, leaving Fantine to her misery. Shivering with fever and the still-penetrating cold, shaken by every bump in the road, each hour of the ride seemed like a week.

Before noon the three travelers passed through a village and stopped at a tavern to eat. Monsieur Madeleine carried Fantine over to a plushy chair near the fire. He brought her a bowl of warm porridge, prodding her to eat it although she had no appetite. His caring treatment bittersweetly reminded her of caring for Cosette, and her longing for her daughter became more intense than ever. He himself ate nothing. Once he'd convinced Fantine to spoon the porridge into her mouth, he engaged in a discussion with the tavern keeper.

Half an hour after their arrival, the driver exited through the back door to use the outhouse. Monsieur Madeleine scooped Fantine up without any warning and brought her outside, where a different carriage with a different driver was waiting. This time there were no warnings about Fantine's sickness, only a gruff command to "speed up." In the time it would take for the old driver to realize his passengers were missing, they had left the village. The new driver slowed down and asked: "Where to, monsieur?"

Monsieur Madeleine replied, "Montfermeil," and confusion returned to Fantine's mind. The more time she spent with this man, the less his actions made sense. Why had he told one driver he was going to Paris and the other Montfermeil? Why had he changed coaches at all? In fact, why would he go to Montfermeil, the village where Cosette had lived before returning to Montreuil-sur-mer? Now that Cosette was not living with the Thenardiers, what could they be doing there?

They arrived in Montfermeil before the sun set. The carriage stopped at a tumbledown-looking inn near the center of town. It looked much like the place where Fantine had left Cosette, but she assumed she must have forgotten through the years - or perhaps she was hallucinating again? The inkeeper - Thenardier? - noticed Monsieur Madeleine's fine clothes and immediately began fawning over him. Fantine thought he might not have been so courteous if he'd seen the sick, disheveled waif sitting in the carriage. After a few moments, he handed Monsieur Madeleine a key and resumed yelling at his family. The mayor furtively brought Fantine into a large first-floor bedroom and tucked her into bed. An inexplicable feeling of peace enveloped her; she fell asleep immediately and stayed asleep the entire night. It was the best slumber she had had in months, including before she had been sick.

For the first time in Fantine's illness, she woke up feeling better than the day before. Her body only felt minimally better, but her mind felt as if a great fog had been lifted. Now that she could think clearly, Monsieur Madeleine's strange actions of the day before made more sense. The false story about the doctor, the changing carriages, the lie about going to Paris--all had been to prevent Inspector Javert from finding her. She knew the mayor was generous, but she'd never thought he would go so far for her. Only one question remained, and she voiced it: "Cosette? Where are you, Cosette?" Her voice came out as a croak. It was too soft for anyone in the inn to hear--or so she thought, until the familiar white-haired yet powerful man opened the door. He sat down on the chair beside her bed.

"Monseiur Mayor! Oh, thank you for everything!" she rasped.

He took her hand. "You're looking much better, Mademoiselle Fantine. I am glad to see it." His expression turned stern. "But there is something I must ask you to do. Please don't call me Mayor or Monsieur Madeleine anymore. If you do, someone might realize what is happening and who I--ah--who you are. I've decided to use the name Ultime Fauchelevent; you may call me that."

"I understand, Monsieur, um, Fauchelevent," she replied, but she did not understand. Why did he change his own identity but make no effort to disguise hers? It was as if he were the fugitive instead of her. As soon as one mystery was solved, another always seemed to appear--which reminded her: "Where is Cosette?"

He smiled, but grimly. "I have not lied to you this time, Fantine. Cosette is here, in this very inn. I promise you that, but I can no longer say that you can see her tomorrow or the next day. No, you will have to be feeling much better before you can see her."

"Oh, but I miss her so much! You don't understand, monsieur. I need to see her more than anything in the world. Until I can hear her happy little voice laughing, I don't think I can ever get better." Her face fell in sorrow.

The mayor, however, was firm: "You'll recover very soon, but until you do, I absolutely cannot allow you to see her. You'll understand why very soon."

Fantine was heartbroken, but she thought she knew why she could not see her daughter. She had always imagined Cosette as the lively toddler she had left, and Monsieur Madeleine had probably realized this. What would Cosette look like after years of continual sickness? Perhaps she would be so frail that simply seeing her would weaken Fantine's drive toward recovery. Resigned, Fantine waited for the day when her long-awaited reunion would finally come.

A/N: Hope you liked this first chapter! By the way, if you want to read Les Mis but are overwhelmed by the huge brick, I recommend the abridged version edited by Paul Benichou. This version is still over 500 pages and keeps all the plot and characterization, but gets rid of non-essential things like Hugo's "rants" about Waterloo, etc.