Part 2! I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, and not entirely sure where the story's going from here, so please bear with me.
Javert stayed by Gavroche's bedside for the better part of three days. Gavroche showed no sign of waking. In spite of the doctors' efforts, a fever had set in, and his little body needed all its strength to heal. The nurses grew used to Javert's presence in the ward. He rarely spoke to them, and did not interfere with their work, but sat or stood silently near Gavroche's bed, looking down like a solemn guardian angel keeping watch over the boy.
"Pardon, Monsieur," said one of the nurses. Javert started to move out of her way, but the nurse motioned for him to stay. "Someone is asking for you," she said. Javert turned around; a stout little woman was making her way down the row of beds. "Monsieur Javert!" she cried, hurrying towards him, "Ah, Monsieur, you're alive!"
"Mme. Pascal!" said Javert, "Whatever are you doing here?" He held out his hand to his faithful housekeeper, and she clasped it in both of hers, as if to reassure herself that it was truly him standing in front of her. "I heard that the barricade fell," she said, "When you didn't come home, I feared––I came here to see if––and, well, here you are!" She paused for breath, looking as though she were ready to either laugh or cry. "A nice trick, to disappear for half a week, and not so much as send word to me that you were alive," she scolded, "What have you been doing all this time?" Javert gestured to the small figure lying in the bed at his side. Mme. Pascal gasped. "Is that…?" she began. "Yes," said Javert. Mme. Pascal shook her head. "What was a child like him doing in the middle of the fighting?" she murmured.
For a while they stood in silence, watching for some sign of life in the still, pale form on the bed. "Please, Monsieur, come home," said Mme. Pascal quietly, "There's nothing more you can do here." With a determined look, Javert resumed his chair beside the bed. "Gavroche has no one else in the world," he said, "I cannot leave him alone. I have to be here when he wakes." Mme. Pascal nodded understandingly. "I'll go home and fetch some fresh clothes for you," she said.
"Thank you," said Javert with a slight smile. "Oh, Mme. Pascal," he said as she turned to leave, "Would you make up the bed in the guest room?"
Mme. Pascal nodded and smiled. "Of course, Monsieur," she said.
The vespers bells at Notre Dame cathedral had just begun to chime when Gavroche finally woke. It took Javert a while to notice that the blue-gray eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling. "Gavroche," he said quietly. Gavroche turned his head towards him. "Inspector?" he said, "Ain't you s'posed to be dead?" His eyes widened. "Am I dead?"
"No, Gavroche," he said, "I can assure you that you are most certainly not dead, and neither am I."
"Oh. That's good," said Gavroche, "I didn't mean to get you killed."
"Thought they were just gonna send you away," Gavroche continued as if he had not heard Javert. "That's why I told 'em you were a spy. I knew you'd try to trip 'em up, but I thought if they knew, they'd just wanna get you outta there, and then…you'd be safe. I didn't want 'em to shoot you, Inspector …"
"Gavroche," said Javert, "I have not been shot. I'm quite unhurt. You, on the other hand, sustained some pretty serious injuries. You're quite lucky to be alive." Perhaps it was more than luck. In his heart, as he looked down at Gavroche, Javert offered a fervent prayer of thanks.
Gavroche turned his head to look about him. "Where am I?" he asked.
"You're in the hospital," said Javert, "You've been here for three days now, though I doubt you remember any of it."
"And where's…everybody else?"
It was the question Javert had been dreading. "You haven't been well," he began,
"We'll discuss this when you're stronger. You ought to rest now."
"They're gone, aren't they?"
Javert lowered his head. "Yes," he said quietly, "I'm sorry…" He trailed off into silence. Gavroche stared up at the ceiling. Two tears spilled from the corners of his eyes and ran down his temples "Why?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know," replied Javert. "I don't believe anyone truly does." Javert took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the boy's tears away. It took him a moment to realize that he was crying too.