A/N: This chapter was requested by Eponinefan24601, who gave me the prompt of Valjean telling Marius about his encounter with the Bishop. Merci, ma amie! I didn't forget. I'm so sorry it took this long, but better late than never. (Oh, and in this version, all Marius knows about Valjean's past is that he used to be a prisoner, but none of the details- yet.)

Disclaimer: Don't own LM, don't profit from writing fic.

It was getting dark outside, and Marius and Valjean decided to reenter the house. Cosette was out shopping with Toussaint and would spend the night at Gillenormand's. Valjean lit a candle and sat down on the worn-out sofa facing the fireplace. Marius headed towards the mantelpiece and picked up the silver candlesticks, eyeing them curiously.

"Monsieur, these candlesticks appear to have been partially melted at the bases," he observed, holding them up to the light.

Valjean blushed deeply, embarrassed and frightened. Not that he believed Marius would turn him in, but just out of instinct. He began to get up. "D- do you think it looks bad?" he stammered stupidly.

"No, not at all. It's very subtle, but I suppose it could have been an aesthetic choice on the part of the silversmith. Where and from whom did you acquire them?"

"They were not in that condition when I acquired them," Valjean answered, putting the candlesticks back and tactfully dodging the question.

"So it was an accident, then? They fell into the fire?"

"Not exactly," Valjean admitted. The source of the candlesticks' deformity was a particular source of shame for him. He went to sit back down. "They were to be a wedding present for you and Cosette. The disfigurement will undoubtedly hurt their retail value, to be sure, and for that I give you my sincerest apologies."

"Oh no, Monsieur, I would never think of selling your candlesticks," Marius insisted. "Even if we needed the money, I know that they are a precious family heirloom and that Cosette would never permit me to part with them. They are quite beautiful, in their own unique way, and I sense that they are antiques as well, from before the Revolution. How on earth did you manage to hide them during the Terror?"

"I cannot speak for the man who possessed them at that time," said Valjean tiredly. "All I know is that he was quite far from Paris."

"Was he your father? Your grandfather?"

Valjean shook his head. "A stranger. I met him only once, in the province of Digne."

Marius gaped incredulously. "Digne? In the South?"

Valjean nodded. "He was a Bishop. I did not know his name at the time, but upon reading of his death in the newspaper several years later, I learned that it was Charles-François Myriel, and that the townspeople had nicknamed him 'Bienvenue'."

Marius smiled at that. "Bishop Welcome," he said.

"And he was," Valjean continued. "He was the kindest and most hospitable man I have ever had the privilege of meeting."

At this point, Valjean realized that he was dangerously close to revealing certain aspects of his path, and he was conflicted. He was approaching the point of no return, and this was his last chance to steer the conversation away from himself. He did not consider lying to be an option. He felt he owed Marius some information, after the latter had just bared his own soul for him without being prompted. But he hesitated, hanging on Marius' next words.

"When did you meet him?" Marius asked.

Valjean sighed, relieved that Marius was stalling on the big questions. "It was in 1815," he replied, sinking deeper into the sofa. "So long ago now."

"1815," Marius repeated. "The same year as the Battle of Waterloo and Bonaparte's final exile." He paused, eyeing Valjean curiously. "Why didn't you ever go back to see him?"

"I was busy," Valjean replied truthfully.

"You came by his church and he gave you the candlesticks as a parting gift?" Marius asked. The thought briefly crossed his mind that his father-in-law had stolen them, or that they had been bestowed as an act of charity, but he immediately pushed away both theories. Cosette's father was a highly moral person, and by no stretch of the imagination could he be considered a charity case.

Valjean nodded. Marius felt like he was missing something.

"I was a man in great need," said Valjean sadly. "I had fallen. Only the Bishop could see me for who I really was." He looked up at Marius with piercing brown eyes. "No one will ever be able to convince me, Monsieur, that that man I met in the township of Digne was not in fact an angel of God."

Marius resisted the urge to roll his eyes at this. Since he had stopped attending mass regularly a few years ago, he considered himself above superstitious beliefs such as angels. Only peasants believed in such things anymore. He knew that there were plenty of people out in the countryside for whom the Revolution may as well not have happened. But Cosette and her father had lived in Paris for years. M. Fauchelevent had not been a peasant for a long time. Not having told Marius about his time in the convent, the younger man assumed that he was a modern, educated bourgeois of independent wealth. Surely he too had been touched by the teachings of the Enlightenment, and wanted to take France forward and not back into the past.

"Monsieur, you are the holiest man I have ever known- I do not see how you could have fallen," Marius said, trying to ease the tension between them.

"I tried to forget," Valjean continued, as if Marius had not spoken. "I nearly fell again. It frightens me to this day to think how close I came to losing my soul, to making the worst mistake of my life."

The pieces started coming together in Marius' mind. "So that's why you threw the candlesticks into the fire?" he asked.

Valjean nodded. "It was nearly a decade ago. I was wealthy and comfortable, content to live enclosed in my own personal sanctum. But... events conspired to put my past back into the spotlight. It was the memory of the Bishop and his act of mercy that led me back onto the right path."

"So the Bishop was the man who saved you from your days as a convict?" Marius asked, finally beginning to understand.

"Yes. I only wish that he could have seen that his kindness was not in vain, that I had taken his every word and gesture to heart... "

"I am sure he knows," Marius said, trying to comfort him. "I am sure he is looking down on you from heaven and rejoicing."

"In any case, Cosette saved me just as much as the Bishop did. You see, for years I was the mayor of a town called Montreuil-sur-Mer - under a false name, of course. But in 1823, the year before I adopted Cosette, everything changed. The prefect of police - Inspector Javert - told me that a man named Champmathieu had been arrested in my place. Since it was thought to be a second offense - breaking parole and then stealing apples - they were going to put him in the galleys for life. I battled with myself over this dilemma for longer than I care to remember. Finally, I suppose, the better angels of my nature won out, and I went to Arras where the trial was taking place and turned myself in. At first no one believed me. But when they examined the evidence and saw that it was true, I was arrested and sentenced to death. For some reason the King commuted my sentence, and I went to Toulon again, this time wearing a green cap. I believe I would not have had the will to escape had it not been for the task with which Cosette's mother had charged me - to take her daughter away from the Thénardiers and raise her as my own. And that is what I have been doing ever since."

Marius' expression was so bewildered as to be comical. His eyes and mouth were wide open as they could be, and he scarcely dared to breathe. He did not know what he had expected from the man who had carried him home through the sewers, risking his life at every turn - but he dared not question Valjean's story. After all, why would he lie about something like this?

"If you do not believe me, I am sure you can find newspaper accounts from that period," Valjean continued unnecessarily. "I was declared dead trying to rescue a workingman; that was what permitted me to escape. I was number 9430, formerly 24601."

"Monsieur, your story is... incredible," Marius began, as if surfacing from a long dive and catching his breath. "You must tell everyone right away."

Marius immediately put his hand over his mouth, shocked and embarrassed; he couldn't believe what he had just said. "If you tell everyone, they can't arrest you," he continued stupidly, trying to save face. "You'll be a hero for millions of people, the biggest celebrity in France. You'll be all anyone talks about for weeks." The light was returning to Marius' eyes, as it dawned on him that this might be a way for him to honor his dead friends.

Valjean raised his eyebrows curiously. To Marius' surprise, he didn't seem to be dismissing the idea off the bat. "You and Cosette would be willing to put yourselves in that situation? With the understanding that this king might not be so merciful as the last? You would do that?"

"Truth is the great enemy of silence," Marius intoned, remembering something Courfeyrac had once said. "The will of the people is the strongest tool we have against injustice. Once they know what you have done, the king will not be able to execute you without turning you into a martyr. With the uprising still fresh in people's memories, we have no time to lose."

Marius felt terrible for dragging his shy, humble father-in-law into the limelight like this, with his ill-thought-out plan. But the more he talked, the more sense it all made. He was starting to convince even himself.

"If it were only myself involved, I might consider it," Valjean began. "You make a very good argument, Monsieur Pontmercy, and a very bold one. But how exactly do you propose to go about it? Cosette is with child."

"Forgive me for even mentioning it," said Marius, hanging his head in shame. "It was a stupid idea. I wish I'd never said it. You're right, it's foolish, and after everything you've been through, you deserve to live in peace."

"It's not foolish," said Valjean evenly, turning back to the fire. "It's good that you're thinking of ways to carry out your friends' unfinished tasks. But I would ask you to wait until I am dead to reveal my full story. It will not be long now; I can sense it. Then, if Cosette consents, you may do as you wish."

"I shall use pseudonyms to protect the families of those involved," said Marius, thinking of his friends. "Perhaps I could even publish it as a work of fiction."

Valjean raised an eyebrow. "It's not a bad idea," he said thoughtfully. "But are you sure a novel would get your message across as thoroughly as a memoir?"

"A novel is immortal," Marius declared. "A news report is fleeting, bound to be subject to all sorts of criticism and conjecture. Being a lawyer, I know. But a writer has more freedom, more room to be subjective and convey morals in his art... And your story, I believe, is one that deserves such treatment."

Valjean smiled. "I think your friends would be proud to hear you say that," he said.

Marius nodded. "If anyone asks, I can always say it was based on a true story... but I don't have to tell them where fact ends and fiction begins. It doesn't matter, because what I write as fiction may well be someone else's fact."

"I shall write down everything you need to know," said Valjean, reaching for a quill and a piece of paper. "You do know, Marius, that your survival was nothing short of a miracle. It took more than just me to save you; there had to have been divine intervention. I believe that God has preserved you in order to continue your friends' revolution, but with words and not violence."

"I agree. They say that the pen is mightier than the sword, and I have finally begun to realize the truth in that proverb." He paused. "But I am no writer. How will I get this to the world without letting everyone know who I am?"

"Take as much time as you need, Marius. If you do not want to write it yourself, there are ghostwriters you can hire to do it for you."

"Really? Like who?"

"I don't know, but you can ask around. I hear that an up-and-coming poet only a few years older than yourself has published a popular novel about a deformed man living in a cathedral. Perhaps he would be sympathetic to our situation."

"Interesting," said Marius. Suddenly something else occurred to him. "Monsieur, if you are certain you are dying, it is time to draft a will- I can act as your lawyer, if you need a witness- "

"I have already drafted my will, Monsieur," Valjean said. "I have long debated what to do with the candlesticks. Everything else I have left to you and Cosette, but those, even in their damaged state, are more precious to me than anything else that I own. It is not for a lack of love that I withhold them from you, but I recognize that you are already set to live quite a comfortable life." He swallowed. "If you require the candlesticks as proof of my adventures, then that part of the will can be changed. For now, I have left it up to you and Cosette to choose a worthy person to receive the candlesticks. But they must be given away, and not kept hoarded from the poor. Do you understand?"

Marius nodded. "Yes, Monsieur. I will not be selfish. I know that you have raised Cosette to be generous and forbearing with her wealth. I will attempt to honor that as best I can in the way we raise our children." He bowed and started out of the room.

"Good." Valjean smiled. "You and I were the only survivors of the barricade. That means we have a duty to keep alive in spirit those whom we could not save in the flesh. As I am about to die, that burden is passed along to you."

"I know, Monsieur," said Marius. "I feel it on my shoulders, and it seems to grow stronger every day. The longer it has been since the rebellion, the harder it is to forget."

"Every generation has its revolution, Marius," said Valjean. "I missed mine, so I participated in yours. But the success or failure of a revolution is not only determined by its immediate impact. We may never know the inspiration we have given to others. For you, I think there may be another revolution ahead."

Marius smiled back and nodded. "I hope so."

A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone! I had a snow day, and after finding a whole bunch of episodes of Shoujo Cosette a few days ago, I finally finished the series! It was so good- if you haven't seen it already, you should totally go watch it. I have started to picture the characters the way they are in the anime, which is saying a lot because normally I don't like anime or manga.

Eponinefan24601, I hope this was what you had in mind with your prompt, although I realize it's a bit long and not just about the Bishop.

This two-shot is over, but I'm thinking of writing one or two companion pieces to this. So keep an eye out for those...