Jean Valjean knew he had to act fast. As he picked up Marius' limp form he was relieved to hear the faintest of moans escape the boy's lips. He knew that the situation was dire, if not hopeless, and only divine intervention could save them.

Valjean spotted his egress. The sewer. He would have to be swift.

The worthy man was startled by the faintest of tugs on his trouser leg. At first, Valjean assumed he had gotten his cuff caught on a bit of rubbish from the barricade. He bent down to remove the offending bit of debris and started violently.

The wounded young man at Valjean's feet had grabbed a hold of the fabric of his trousers in a weak, yet stubborn fashion. Valjean could see that the boy was badly wounded and was using what little reserves of energy he had in order to accost him.

Bending down further Valjean attempted to gently peel the young man's fingers off of his trouser leg, but the grip suddenly became firmer.

"Don't....take him."

Jean Valjean felt a sudden pang. The poor wounded soul thought that Valjean had indeed double crossed the barricade. That Valjean was taking his friend prisoner.

Though it was painful to do so, with Marius still across his shoulders Valjean knelt beside the wounded rebel and spoke softly. "Marius is safe with me. I came here to bring him back for my daughter, Cosette, who loves him. No harm will come to your friend, but I must leave now."

The faintest of smiles flickered across the wounded boy's face. "Take care of him...he hasn't any....sense." he muttered releasing Valjean's cuff. "None."

Valjean gave the young man a short nod, which he failed to see since he had shut his eyes at Valjean's pledge of Marius' safety. He hurried off into the obscurity of the smoke and vanished.

Courfeyrac reflected somewhat vaguely, that it all made sense, really. Marius had, after all, sworn he was in love with an angel.

It only stood to reason that her father was a saint.