ohhh if you're taking prompts from the Pirate Au, Valjean and Feuilly (I'm predictable ;-; obviously you don't have to if you don't want to!), 9 or 17?
I picked 17! I hope you like it :D I love writing these two!
the Misericorde. 1712.
“Let me help,” Feuilly says, a weary sadness sitting
heavy in his chest.
“I’m fine, Jahni,” Valjean says, waving him off.
“Truly. You should go back to the Liberte,
I’m sure they’re missing you.”
“Uncle Jean,” Feuilly says, gritting his teeth in
frustration, fiddling with the end of one of his dreadlocks. “Surely, surely you know how much you mean to me.
Surely you know you don’t have to be alone with this.”
“Jahni it’s fine,” Valjean says, a rare aggravation in
his voice, and Feuilly senses his own tendency to close off when vulnerable,
lessened over the years since he found his uncle and met all his friends. “I
just wasn’t expecting to hear news of the powers that be sending a spy to
Nassau. It’s our safe harbor. I want it to remain that way.”
“You listen to Fantine,” Feuilly insists. “You let her
help. Why won’t you let me, or Cosette for that matter? Or Enjolras?”
“Jahni,” Valjean repeats, finally turning around.
“What?” Feuilly asks, still annoyed, but affection and
worry for his uncle overcomes that. He steps forward, placing a hand on
Valjean’s arm. “Please just….you don’t have to carry the burden alone.”
“I’m supposed to protect you,” Valjean insists,
bringing one hand to rest over Feuilly’s own. “Not the other way around.”
“I’m not a boy anymore,” Feuilly says, softer now. “I
want to help. So do Cosette and Enjolras and all of us. We want to help you and
Fantine both navigate this life we’ve taken on.” He pauses, hesitant before
lifting up a hand, putting it against Valjean’s cheek. “Nothing is going to
take all of us away from you at once, Uncle Jean. Not like that hurricane.”
He stops. He might be telling a lie, because one day,
all of them could be captured and killed, but he doesn’t care. Right now what
matters is that his uncle feels as safe as he’d made Feuilly feel that day they
found each other, stumbling upon their connection. Feuilly heard stories about
his Uncle Jean from a young age, his mother’s voice always filled with loss
when she spoke of her brother.
see him again one day Jahni, she told him. When he’s free. Then you’ll see how much
like him you are. Then you’ll see why I’m so proud of that.
Valjean grasps Feuilly’s hand tighter, looking down at
the fingers, a memory in his eyes. He’s told the story about one-year-old
Feuilly grasping his fingers before he left to steal the bread from the shop,
the theft that sent him to prison, the theft that landed him doing convict
labor aboard an East India ship after too many escape attempts.
That ship was the catalyst for everything.
“You’re a good man, Jahni,” Valjean finally says. “I’m
sorry. I just…”
“I know,” Feuilly says, gently cutting him off. “But,
unburden yourself. You can trust me. I promise I can shoulder it.”
Valjean smiles now, eyes damp.
“I fear so deeply the spy they send to Nassau will be
Javert,” Valjean admits. “I don’t want him discovering yours or Cosette’s
connection to me. I don’t want him taking Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac
back to Jamaica. I only…” he pauses, looking back at Feuilly, love in his eyes.
“I know one day there will be a fight between his side and ours, and we will
all stand at the center. I wish it wasn’t inevitable. I wish I could prevent it
forever. But I know I cannot.”
“I know,” Feuilly says, letting his uncle pull him
into an embrace. “So do I. But until then, and through it, please know you may
unburden yourself to me.”
“Thank you, my dear boy,” Valjean says. “I will try my
best to remember.”
Feuilly smiles, feeling the touch of his mother in his