lark_in_flight | (no subject)

Entry tags:

marius,
valjean

(no subject)

Marius has ducked into the hall to call for hot drinks. So it's Cosette and her father, alone at last in his Milliways room.

Part of her wants to weep once more for joy. Part of her wants to shout at him. She turns away abruptly to grab a quilt from his bed.

"Here," she says, "put this quilt over your lap, Father. It's winter here. You must take care of yourself! I tell you, we will be here often. You will grow quite sick of us! And then in Paris you will come to live with us. I have a room all ready. I won't hear a word against it. You will be with us, we will all be together, you will be a father to your little Cosette again, and we will all be very happy."

As she chatters she tucks the quilt around him, and pulls a footstool near. If he wants, he can put his feet onto it. Otherwise, she'll settle onto it, to sit at his feet like a confiding child.

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There are tears in her eyes, suddenly. Hasn't she cried enough, these past few days? But there it is; all her anger has faltered at those simple words.

"Of course I do, Papa," she whispers, head bowed over their joined hands.

"Of course I do. Have you forgiven me too?"

She knows he meant to protect her, but all the same, he might have been angry at her too. For months she's been certain that she gave up her father's love somehow in gaining her husband's, and there's a part of her that still thinks she did, until she miraculously regained him at the last moment. She can't bear to not ask this now.

'Forgive...'

He shakes his head, bewildered.

'What reason have you to ask forgiveness, my child? You have done no wrong.'

She could never, and he is seized by horror at the thought that she believes herself in any way in the wrong.

"Then you have never been angry at me? Truly?"

'Never. Cosette, never.'

He has told many lies in his life, but not this time. He has been anguished, and worried, and in despair, but none of these things were her fault, and never angry.

"Oh!" she cries softly, and rests her head on their hands upon his knee. "I'm so glad."

If he did not feel so tired in his muscles, he would bend forward and kiss her head. As it is, he just smiles down at her.

'Please, do not think I ever would be. You have done no wrong. You are my angel, and always have been - I knew nothing of love before you, and-'

He breaks off when a lump threatens his throat.

'...I am sorry, for everything.'

It feels so utterly good, and such an overwhelming comfort and relief, to rest her head on her father's lap and hear the love in his voice as he calls her my angel, my child, tu. She does shed a tear or two, very quietly.

"Thank you, Father. I've been so worried. But there, I'm sure it was very silly of me to think such things. I won't worry any more about that. I won't worry a bit. I shall be nothing but happy! Only --"

She catches his rough hand in both of hers now, and brings it to her cheek, as she straightens up enough to gaze up at him beseechingly. "Only you will listen to your little Cosette now, and tell her things now and again? Please say you will. Please say you'll never be such a naughty father again, and draw away from us. I love you so."

She is not the only one with a tear in her eye. To hear her say she loves him, it is all he needs in the world. But there is a weight on his heart too, because his situation has not changed, he is still dangerous to her blameless life and place in society.

'I will not draw away. But Cosette - living with you, I am not sure that is wise. There is much you do not understand, and I...you will say I should tell you, but I would not have you worry for the world. There is no need to taint your life, and to have my shadow at your door - there is no need, you see, I am quite accustomed to living alone. We may see each other often. Would that not be better?'

"No!"

"That's just what I mean, that's it! To say 'I am a shadow at your door,' to say 'I am quite accustomed to being alone,' to say 'I will live alone, I shall see you often, that is better' what is one supposed to say to such things? You aren't a taint, you aren't a shadow. You are my father! You must live with us. You will be a father to us both. I'll be unhappy and worried if you don't. I tell you I will."

He releases her hand so he may draw his own across his face. They seem to be two people in the dark, unable to find the light - but he belongs where he is, while she and Marius should step forward into a future full of sunshine. He does not want to stay behind, but this life she speaks of - the chair in the corner, talking with the grandfather, the birds in the garden...oh, he wants it so much, but it is something that has never been within his grasp. He thought telling Marius the truth would set all possibility of it away from him, and he would be allowed to languish where he is. To find himself being pulled on...he does not know what to do.

'Cosette-' he tries, but what can he say? There is much he does not understand, and he would rather not know, for it is easier to stay in a state of blissful ignorance and simply bask in her presence, her hand in his.

He has never allowed himself that luxury, and will not now. But he is sorry to let it go.

'How do I come to be here? How did you come to find me? Was it Javert?'

He remembers Javert in his apartment, but the man has been there before and though it was only days ago, the memories dance in front of him like a dream. The fatigue is more clear, the knowledge of that black curtain being pulled over his head. And now it is gone, but it leaves him as he was before - happier, certainly, because she is here, but no more free.

"Yes, it was M. Javert."

She blots at her eyes with a handkerchief. For a brief, irrelevant moment she thinks of Marius, and the funny story he told her about thinking her father's handkerchief was her own, and UF her own monogram.

"Mother has told me he used to be very wicked, but he did us a great kindness yesterday. He came to the door, he told me you were very ill and that you needed me. He -- he told me that you were keeping yourself away to protect me. Which is a very silly thing to have done! He told me a great deal, so did Mother, things you and Marius never said a word about, and I know you are the very best of men, you are my father and a saint, you are."

'Cosette...my child, I am not a saint. I am just a man.'

A pause, where he manages a smile.

'But yes, your father too.'

He does not know what to think about Javert, so does not try.

'I wanted to protect you, and I still do. Which is why...oh, your husband will understand, and you will listen to him, will you not? He will explain to you why it is not...why-'

He breaks off again, because he does not want to tell her his past. But it seems it may be the only thing that will let her understand.

Did someone mention a husband? Here's Marius, returned at last, a tea tray in hand.

"Is all well?" he asks tentatively.

Cosette whirls on her footstool, though she doesn't pull away from her father.

"Husband!" she cries. "My father thinks you will agree with him that he's not to live with us after all. What nonsense! Here, support me. I'll tell you what I call supporting me. It's telling my father that we love him, that nothing will change that, that he must live with us and be happy, and not say silly things like 'I am a shadow on your lives.' Tell him that nothing we're told will change our minds on this."

Welcome back, Marius! Time to get put on the spot!

Oh, uh.

"Yes," Marius says, slightly taken aback. He sets down the tea tray and, coming to Cosette's side, says more forcefully, "Yes. I shall support you in all things, my love, and particularly in this."

Valjean, who had turned his gaze down to his hands when Marius entered, looks up at him beseechingly.

'But, monsieur-'

Surely he does not have to explain to Marius why it is dangerous?

"There, you see?"

Oh, how she loves Marius. Her face brightened into a delighted beam at his words, and even now that she's focused intently on her father again, the joy remains.

"I tell you nothing anyone can tell me will change our minds. Nothing you have ever been. You have your whims, you have your secrets, very well. I know you, Father. You are so very good. There is nothing about you that you need to protect me from."

"She knows, Monsieur," Marius says. "Monsieur Javert explained-- though I do not doubt there is more that only you can tell. Indeed, there is much you did not tell even to me, though you claimed to confess all!"

Oh.

So, it was not a dream. Not some nightmare from his near-death fever.

He will just look at his hands again.

"Father--"

She catches at his hands, draws them to her rosy face, frees a hand after all to stroke back his white hair.

"I know, Father, I know that you suffered terribly, and you hid away to protect us, and -- and I know people would think awful things, if they didn't know you. Of course it was a shock. I knew you had secrets but I didn't -- I didn't know anything, you never told me a thing. Someone who didn't know how good you were might think something awful. But you see, I do know you. Don't you see? You are so very good! Mother has told me too, you did so much good for me, even when I was a little child, you did so much good for everyone. Please -- please, Papa, please, don't hide away from me again. Not from your Cosette. I tell you if I have my father and my husband I don't care a thing for anybody else, I will be ever so happy. The three of us will be so happy together! As long as I have both of you I don't mind anything."

Marius sinks to his knees beside Cosette.

"And for my part--" He bows his head, for a moment unable to go on. "You have done me a service I can never repay, and I have done you an injustices can never repair. And yet, you tell your own history all amiss! Any man could seem the monster you painted yourself to me, if he leaves out every good deed he has done-- and such deeds, Monsieur-- father!"

He is quiet for a long time.

Then he draws a long breath, and tries to order his words.

'It is because you are good,' he says, to Marius. 'If I told you anything, you would have insisted on what you insist on now. You would have let one or two deeds colour all else, and...and I did want to be honest.'

Because nineteen years a convict, silver stolen from a Bishop, a coin taken from a child, the hateful creature he once was...these are not crimes that can be erased by a day in a sewer, or a single confession of his past.

'Cosette-'

Words are so inadequate for what he feels for her, and how happy she makes him just by sitting at his knee.

'-there are some wrongs that can never be left behind. I have tried. But if you say we will be happy, it will be so. I will not go away again.'

He wants to tell her that some convicts are still men and he does not feel like one very often, but when he does it is because of her. But it all feels too big - her comment when she saw the chaine, the fact of what he was and how close he came to losing her because of it. It is too close to the bone, and he does not want to dwell on it.

"But you're wrong," she tells him earnestly, beseechingly.

"The good God has told us so. Have you confessed? Have you begged God to forgive your sins?"

He smiles then, and makes a gesture to the air above him.

'My confession has been heard.'

One day, he will give it to Bishop Myriel in person, kneeling at his feet.

'But I know God has listened before. He has protected me more times than I can say. And he gave me the chance to find you.'

Proof enough.

"If you have confessed yourself to God-- if you have proved your repentance with good deeds-- and deeds beyond goodness! Why, what more may be asked of any man?" Marius ventures a small smile. "And for myself, from this moment forward, I count it a cardinal sin to cross Cosette in the least of her wishes. That you cannot do."

"Then you see, Papa, you are forgiven! You can leave those wrongs behind. It's very proud to consider your sins greater than God's forgiveness, you know, you mustn't do such a thing."

She's laughing a little, but her eyes are wet too, as she pleads. To her this is obvious truth.

"God has forgiven you the sins you repented, Father. So you must be good, and listen to him, and come and live with your children who love you so, and be happy with them."

He is quiet again.

And then again, he smiles, and nods.

'Yes. Of course, I will come. I will not refuse either of you.'

You can leave those wrongs behind. He will not tell her that it is not so easy, that he wishes it were, and that he has tried. But concealing the truth from Marius would not be leaving it behind, it would only keep it with him longer. Leaving Champmatheiu to his fate would not have been leaving it behind, it would only make it worse. Allowing Javert to be killed would not have been any kind of freedom. Conscience is a strange thing. Strange, and harsh, and it twists everything into what it should not be. He can be forgiven by any person but himself.

But he will not let any of this show, because he has no way to explain it. He tried once, to Marius, and could not make himself understood then.

Marius grabs hold of Cosette's hand, then reaches for Valjean's.

"Good," he says. "Good. I am so very glad."

And he is, and not only because Valjean's acceptance has lightened some small portion of the great guilt pressing on him.

"Oh, Father!"

She clutches Marius's hand tightly, and her father's too. For a moment her heart is too full to do anything else. Then, with a teary little laugh, she darts up from her footstool without releasing either of their hands, just enough to press a kiss to her father's aged forehead.

"Oh, I thank God, I do. He has given you back to me."

'And He has given you both to me.'

He will never not be thankful. No matter what else, Cosette has been worth everything and now Marius makes her happy. He wants nothing more. And now he will live with them! He does not know what to do with such happiness, and can only clasp their hands, his chest tight with joy.

For a few moments more she only clings to both of them, her heart full of an overflowing desperate joy.

At last she finds other words. As so often, she takes refuge in fussing over one of them: "But there, Father, you must regain your strength. You must get well again! Here, I will bring you tea. And Bar has sent some good soft bread. Look how white it is! You will have some, I insist." And she chatters on, as she brings him tea and a small plate, and tucks the blanket close around him, and pours tea for Marius and herself too.

But instead of drinking hers right away, she settles down to rest her head on Marius's shoulder, and shed a few quiet tears of joy, and smile to see her father -- her dear father, who will live with them as she always wanted, and be well and happy -- sitting before her, alive and better after yesterday's horrors.

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