AN: This is my first Les Misérables fanfiction, so be gentle with the reviewing. Thank you.
Arrest A Saint?
I stood in the mayor of Montreal's office, even during our first meeting he reminded me of another. He reminded me of a prisoner I had long ago guarded, in Toulon. A prisoner who broke his parole nearly eight years ago. A man called Jean Valjean, a strong man with the will of a demon. He was the sort who would have kept running until the end of his days; until the end of the earth. This was who Mayor Madeline reminded me of.
I'm still stood in the mayor's office; he is staring as if waiting for me to speak. I just stare at him hoping that he realizes that I was not actually listening.
"Inspector? Are you alright?" For a moment I consider lying but could not bring myself to. I just shook my head. This seemed to be enough of an answer for the mayor. "Well, what is it?" I silently handed him a letter from my superior in Paris, my head is bowed. The mayor pales understanding its significance and passes it back. I swallow waiting for my punishment at damaging his good name. Instead he started to remove the layers that covered him, I just stared unsure as to his intent. Only until he slid aside the silk shirt he wore underneath the uniform of mayor and businessmen; did his intent make sense. This was his confession. Burned into his skin, across his chest, was the number of a convict; 24601. The number of Jean Valjean. I stared far longer than I should of at the ugly scar of his time interned at Toulon. Eventually I bowed my head and fell to my knees; my eyes occasionally glanced upwards at the man whom I would have to hunt and yet was my direct superior. A man who was considered a saint by most in his town. I was uncertain if my conscious could be drowned out by my sense of duty this time. "Javert? Can you stand?" I coughed once before climbing to my feet. My head remained bowed. "You should take me to Arras." At this my head snapped up so I was directly looking at Valjean. He seemed concerned by the sudden movement; but I knew I had to speak.
"That would be unwise sir, mayor."
"But this man, he had done no real wrong, surely?"
"He was arrested attacking a priest; and not by me."
"Then who?"
"Officer Richelle, a young officer who has far more mercy than I am capable of."
"But Javert you saw my number?" Pained I turned to the door with my hand on the handle.
" I saw no number." With that I was gone, back to my actual duty. The fake Valjean was a murderer, the real one a saint. I would not arrest a saint.