Translated into English by the marvellous Yamx

Bring Him Home

Marius Pontmercy, lately recovered from his injuries and married to Cosette Fauchelevent, was on his way to visit the room he had lived in as a student one more time before finally having all his things brought to the Rue Plumet. He did not want the movers to notice the banned books.

Marius climbed the staircase to his attic chamber. Outside the door, he put the key in the lock and paused in surprise – it would not turn. He was certain that he had locked the door before he went off to battle, which now seemed like a lifetime ago. But now the door was unlocked.

Carefully, and ready to run, Marius opened the door. He glanced into the room, looked from the table to the bed, froze, and closed the door. Very confused, he descended the stairs. He forgot what he had come for, entered his waiting carriage and returned to the Rue Plumet.

He and Cosette had been wondering for a long time what had become of her father. Now he knew.

During the whole trip, he wondered what should be the second thing he told Cosette. The first was easy: "Your father is alive!" But the second? Even "Your father is all right," did not seem quite appropriate. Could anyone be all right who was in an intimate embrace with his mortal enemy? Could Cosette's father be all right lying in the arms of Inspector Javert?

XXX

The sound of the door closing woke Valjean, though he could not have said what had woken him. He opened his eyes and smiled. Javert's arms were around him, holding him tight, as if he might get lost.

Valjean had not thought that it was possible to develop such passion at their age. But during the past few days, sometimes a touch, a glance, a word had been all it took to make them ravish each other. There had probably been a lot of build-up from the last decades. Besides, both of them had spent much too much time ignoring their bodily needs.

Even on that morning when they had returned from the Seine, he could not have predicted this development. Valjean's strength had failed him on the way back, and so Javert had carried him up the stairs like a bride, despite his protests.

Their first attempts had been shy. They took it slowly and gave themselves time. First, this had been due to Valjean's weakened state; then, they had both realized with surprise that their experience was very limited. So they had started to explore each other's bodies almost fearfully. They had gradually gained confidence as they began to comprehend the miracle that was happening to them. They had barely gotten out of bed the past few days, and had only left the room to buy food.

They had not talked about the future yet, about what they were going to do. At some point they would have to leave the room, at some point Valjean would have to explain to Cosette that his future lay with the very police inspector who had hunted them both across half the country…

They would rent an apartment; everything else would work out somehow, Valjean thought. He was going to surprise Javert with it.

"You really are a disgrace, Valjean," Javert mumbled sleepily, but with a smile. "Seducing me to sin in the middle of the day…"

"Well, I like looking at you during. Or is there a law against that?"

Instead of an answer, his mouth was closed with a kiss.

XXX

Thenardier had barely left when Marius thoughts began to race wildly. All right, the mysterious savior who had saved his life by carrying him through the sewers had been Cosette's father. There was nothing wrong with that, he preferred being grateful to a family member to being grateful to a stranger.

What alarmed him, however, was that Thenardier had mentioned that Javert had also been close by. If Javert had seen Cosette's father saving a wounded insurgent, then it was entirely possible that he might be doing the same thing Thenardier had attempted: blackmail, just with a different price.

Cosette had told him how obsessively that policeman has hunted her and her father - who knew where this obsession came form? And then, Marius was convinced, Javert had seen a chance to get something Cosette's father would never have given him of his own free will.

Of course - it was the only explanation for the scene he had discovered in his room. Javert was forcing Marius's father-in-law to do his bidding.

Marius yelled for his carriage. He had to leave immediately, rescue Cosette's father and thereby repay him for saving his life.

Despite the high speed he had instructed the driver to go at, Marius spent the whole trip considering carefully what he was going to say to Javert. He would have to appeal to his honor and reputation, for he had never heard that Javert could be paid off. And of course he was going to take Cosette's father home, so he could be taken care of, and the wounds Javert had caused could heal.

The last part of Marius's plan failed completely, for when he stormed into his old room, still livid, his father-in-law was not there. Javert was sitting at the table reading a book; with a gulp, Marius realized it was one of the ones that had been banned twice.

Javert looked up, saw who the visitor was, and stood up. "Monsieur le Baron," he said coolly.

"Where is he?" Marius burst out. "Where is my father-in-law?"

"Valjean, no, M. Fauchelevent," Javert corrected himself, "is in a business meeting."

"I know exactly what you're doing here, Inspector! You can't fool me!"

He had known the day would have to come when Valjean's family found out about them. Javert had not spent any thought on what that day would entail, but he had assumed that he and Valjean would face it together; instead, he found himself confronting Marius's fury alone. So he simply looked at the younger man haughtily.

"I won't allow the father of my wife to be involved with something so disgusting," Marius continued. "How much do you want to disappear from his life forever?"

"Who told you I could be bought? You must have been duped by some liar, Monsieur le Baron." Javerts voice was very controlled. "I consider this conversation extremely insulting."

"What I find insulting is the fact that you're using my room for your sordid games with M. Fauchelevent." Marius voice was getting louder and louder. "I saw you."

"Indeed?" Only Javert's life-long habit of the self-control, which had started to crumble a little only in the last few days, made him seem outwardly calm. "And what you saw really shocked you enough to make such a scene? If my information is correct, similar things happened between your little school friends, particularly Enjolras and Grantaire."

Marius took a step back. Clearly, it was not just a rumor that Inspector Javert knew everything. "That is really not the point." It sounded quite feeble.

"Then what is? Explain it to me, Monsieur le Baron."

"It seems you truly want me to say it."

"I would find that helpful."

Marius had to rally all his courage to be able to continue. "All right, if you insist… I will not allow you to continue blackmailing my father-in-law to do your bidding."

For a few fractions of a second, there was sheer horror on Javert's face; then it became a mask of stone. "What is between me and your father-in-law concerns only him and me."

"Not if you're exploiting the fact that he's too good a person."

"If you think that that is his problem, you should be talking to him. And now I would be extremely grateful if you left. I see no reason to continue this conversation."

Before Marius quite knew what had happened, he found himself outside and realized that he had just been thrown out of his own room.

XXX

Valjean returned from his "business meeting," which had in truth been a talk with a landlord who had an apartment to let. He found Javert in a very dark and brooding mood, quite unlike the man who had lately proven himself able to smile.

"What's wrong?" Valjean was worried; Javert's mood was dangerously close to the one that had brought him to the Seine twice.

Javert did not reply.

"It would be good for both of us if you could tell me what happened." Valjean knelt next to Javert's chair and put his hands on the other man's thighs.

"I don't know how to say it, it's too…too… God, I don't even know what it is." Javert ran his hand through Valjean's hair absentmindedly. "We had a visitor."

Valjean did not say anything; he just looked up at Javert encouragingly.

"Your son-in-law. He… knows about us."

"Well, that saves me from having to tell him."

"But he thinks you're only here with me because I'm forcing you to."

"If that were true, you shouldn't have thrown the handcuffs into the Seine," Valjean said with a brief laugh, but stopped when he realized that Javert did not seem to find the situation even remotely funny. "You don't think there's any truth in that, do you? That I somehow feel obliged to be with you?"

Javert briefly glanced at the ceiling, then he shook his head.

"Good - that would be completely absurd. You must not doubt that I'm exactly where I want to be. Never, you hear?"

"I don't doubt that."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm keeping you from the one thing that has always been most important in your life - your daughter."

"I don't understand what you're getting at."

"If that is what your son-in-law thinks of me, what is your daughter going to think? There will never be anything approaching normality between us. And I couldn't bear it if you had to defend me against your family, or even worse, if you had to make a choice between them and me."

"What are you trying to say, Javert?"

Javert fixed Valjean in a sad, almost desperate gaze. "Nothing - I'm just worried."

"Don't be. I will go to the Rue Plumet right now and give this silly boy a piece of my mind. And then I'll do something I should have done days ago - I'll tell Cosette about you." Valjean stood up.

"What are you going to tell her?"

"That I love you," Valjean replied simply, bent down, gave Javert a quick kiss, and left.

Javert hid his face in his hands, fighting down tears – he was not going to start blubbering emotionally after decades of being in control. He stood up and started packing the few things in the room that were his.

XXX

Cosette was thinking, sitting quietly with some untouched needlework in her lap. Marius had been strangely quiet for several days. When he had come home earlier, he had gone straight to his study and locked himself in. He had not even sounded like himself when he had suddenly announced three days ago that her father was alive.

She was pondering whether it would be a good idea to simply go to Marius's hallowed study and demand answers when the door bell rang. Madame Toussaint answered and yelped in surprise. Next, Cosette heard voices in the hallway. The door opened, and there stood Cosette's father.

"Papa!" She flew to him, pressed her face into his shoulder and started sobbing quietly with happiness and relief.

Valjean simply held her tight. He had longed for and feared this moment, but it was not hard to simply give in to his love for her.

After an eternity, Valjean withdrew from the embrace and studied Cosette. "You look happy. Are you?"

"Without a doubt, now that you're finally home."

Home? The word made Valjean realize that he no longer thought of the Rue Plumet as his home, that he would only be a welcome guest there from now one. "I have to talk to you, my child, and to your husband. It's very important."

"I will send for him," Cosette said, worried by Valjean's grave expression.

A few minutes later, Marius entered the parlor. "Monsieur, I must thank you for what you've done! Without your brave actions, I would have died on the barricades like all the others instead of being happily united with my Cosette." He shook Valjean's hand.

"I don't want your thanks now," Valjean said with scorn. "I have something to say, and I would prefer not to be interrupted. Firstly, my name is not Ultime Fauchelevent. My name is Jean Valjean." Valjean told them of his past as briefly as possible - which still took quite a while. "It took me a long time to realize that God had a reason for making me and Javert face each other time and time again. We were both too intent on hating and fearing each other to realize it. When we were finally ready to face our feelings, it was almost too late."

"I'm sorry, Papa," Cosette interrupted, "But what are you trying to tell us?"

"Love, my child, works in mysterious ways." Was it really this simple to say it? "And for me, all those ways led to Javert, as crazy as it may seem to you. I love him the way you love Marius; he's important to me, and it is equally important to me that you understand that."

"You are saying that you and Inspector Javert…" Marius stopped.

"Yes, and obviously you completely misunderstood something there." Part of the warmth was gone from Valjean's voice. "What you said has hurt him deeply. I expect you to apologize."

"That's certainly the least I can do," Marius said miserably.

"Papa, are you sure that that's what you want?" Cosette, who had been listening silently, asked.

"Yes, completely."

"Then I think I should meet him. If you've given your heart to the man who chased us through half the country, he must be very special."

Valjean went to his daughter and kissed her on the forehead. "Maybe we should all go to him."

XXX

They climbed up the narrow staircase together. Valjean opened the door and stared - the room was empty. There was no trace of Javert.

With a rising feeling of panic, Valjean ran to the closet and looked inside. The heavy coat and the uniform were gone.

"Papa," Cosette said and pointed to the table.

Valjean noticed a piece of paper with his name on it. It took an incredible effort to walk over, take the paper, and unfold it.

"I think it best to leave before we both get our hearts broken." The handwriting looked better suited for police reports than private letters. "I could never ask you to choose between your family and me, for they will never understand what is between us. We both knew going in that this was insanity. I will leave, and go to a place you can't follow me to. J."

Dumbstruck, Valjean lowered the letter; it fell from his fingers and landed on the floor. He swayed. Cosette immediately took his arm, while Marius picked up the paper and read it.

"God, what have I done?" Marius stared at the letter. "Where is he going?" He handed the letter to Cosette.

"I don't know which one of you is the bigger fool," she declared after reading it, looking back and forth between the short letter and Marius. "I hope he's not going to lay hand on himself."

"No," Valjean gasped; then, more calmly, as if he was trying to reassure himself, he repeated, "No. He won't do that. He promised me. And Javert never breaks a promise."

"But then, what might be a place you can't follow him to?"

Valjeans thoughts were racing. From time to time he shook his head, discounting an option.

"Think, Papa," Cosette urged needlessly.

"Toulon," Valjean exclaimed finally. "That's the only place he believes I can't go."

"Unfortunately, he's right, Monsieur," Marius said. "You can't possibly go to Toulon. If anyone recognized you, you'd immediately be arrested for your escape, and with all due respect, you would not last more than a few months in prison."

"So what do you think we should do?" Cosette asked.

"I will go and bring him back," Marius replied determinedly. "What happened is my fault. So I will go to Toulon."

"And you think Javert will come back because you ask him to?" Cosette did not think she had ever used sarcasm before in her life.

"Cosette is right. I have to go to Toulon, I'm the only one who can bring him back," Valjean said. "And if I'm too much of a coward to follow him there, then I don't deserve him, anyway."

"Then at least allow me to come with you," Marius replied.

Valjean nodded. If Marius came along, Javert would see right away that his worries were unfounded.

"I'm coming, too," Cosette stated.

"Isn't that to straining for you?" Marius asked worriedly.

"This man chased us through half of France when I was a child. Now that I'm a grown woman, I can certainly follow him to Toulon to save my father's happiness."

The carriage raced south. The three passengers were silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

Marius was busy feeling guilty. How had he misjudged the situation so disastrously? And why had he not talked to Valjean first, instead of accosting Javert like a blind fool? Why had he not realized that the embrace he witnessed was full of real feelings?

Cosette was worried about her father, who was sitting across from her visibly tense. When he had told her of his love for Javert, she had hoped never to see this anxiety, this haunted look again, but now both were back. She had never been quite aware of the fact that one man could truly love another, and she remembered being taught in the convent that it was a sin - but if another man managed to bring peace and happiness to her father's face, it could not be a sin.

Valjean sat staring with unseeing eyes. Had his intuition really been right about Toulon? What if they were looking in the wrong place? What if he could not find Javert? How could he live on? It simply was not possible that after everything they had been through, they were only granted a few days. Surely, that could not be God's plan!

Valjean began to pray silently. "Bring him home, Lord, let me bring him home! Let me find him!"

XXX

At every post station, where they got fresh horses and bought something to eat, Valjean had hoped to catch up to Javert, but either he had too big a head start, or he was going by a different route, or they were heading the wrong way entirely.

As soon as they arrived in Toulon, Valjean wanted to start the search, but both Cosette and Marius objected strongly. They insisted on getting rooms at an inn first and rest for a while.

"It won't help either one of you if you collapse," Cosette said emphatically.

"Besides, there's no point in just searching the town. We need a plan," Marius added.

Valjean had to admit they were right. Toulon was not a small village where every stranger drew attention. It was a port, with the corresponding comings and goings of travelers.

Marius rented two bedrooms and a parlor at a nice inn. The three of them conferred in the parlor.

"Why don't we simply go to the police?" Marius suggested. He felt so guilty that he was trying very hard to come up with ideas.

"The police?" Valjean asked, more mockingly than he had intended. "And what should we tell them? Lost police inspector?"

"No, Papa, wait, it's not such a bad idea." Cosette suddenly seemed much more cheerful. "What if there was important police business and Inspector Javert was needed?"

"There's been an arrest in Paris," Valjean started thinking out loud. "The infamous escaped convict Jean Valjean, whom Javert had been tracking, has been apprehended. And there's only one man who can identify him." He could practically hear Javert's voice, pointing out reproachfully that what he had just suggested constituted deliberate misdirection of the police. God, how much he missed even that kind of comment!

"So I will go to police headquarters und claim I was sent by the Paris Police," Marius said.

"No, my boy, that won't work," Valjean objected. "No one's going to buy that you're a policeman. There's too much of the baron and too little of the slums in your speech, your demeanor - there's no way."

"So who would you suggest should go, Monsieur? Cosette?"

"No. Not Cosette."

XXX

Valjean took a deep breath before entering the police station. He knew that it was insane to walk straight into the lion's den, especially here in Toulon, where some policeman well might remember the case of the escaped convict who had been at large for years. On the other hand, he had managed to remain hidden for years, and that had required quite a talent for deception. And would anyone really believe that he was crazy enough to walk into a police station of his own free will?

He entered determinedly and addressed the officer on duty. "I am Sergeant Dupont with the Paris Police. I need to talk to your Sergeant," Valjean's said with an authoritative air, as if he was accustomed to ordering around police officers; he was trying to sound like the Javert he had known in Montreuil-sur-mer.

"At once, Monsieur le Sergeant," the officer replied; he returned a few moments later with his superior.

"Levasseur," the Sergeant introduced himself. "What brings you to Toulon?"

Valjean's tone changed from authoritative to jovial. He was relieved to realize that Levasseur was much too young to have any personal recollection of prisoner 24601. "A terrible boring affair. My Inspector has come here recently, and I have to get him back to Paris. Urgent business that only he can deal with. Personally, I think they might just have sent a letter. But, well, they wouldn't have had anywhere to send it to. We don't know where he's staying here."

Levasseur grinned sympathetically. "So, what's your Inspector's name?"

"Javert."

"What? That lunatic who's been running after that escaped convict for twenty years?"

"The very same," Valjean sighed. "The crazy thing is, we think we've actually caught that Jean Valjean fellow now!"

"I thought that guy didn't even exist. Figured he was just some figment of Javert's imagination."

"I sometimes thought so, too," Valjean replied dryly. "Anyway, we need Javert back in Paris as quickly as possible. He's the only one who can identify him."

"Hmm," Levasseur pondered, "He hasn't contacted us. Is he here for fun?"

Valjean laughed, this time without deceit. "Trust me, he wouldn't even know how to spell that word."

"Ah, one of those. Poor you." Levasseur punched Valjean's shoulder jovially. "Well, there's really only three inns here that he could be staying at on an Inspector's salary if he's determined not to have fun. I'll write it down for you."

Valjean felt his heart beating faster with excitement. "Thank you. If he's not there, could you have your men look for him?"

XXX

Javert had never gotten drunk in his life. He had always abstained from alcohol, for its effects inevitably led to sin. During the entire journey from Paris, he had desperately tried to ignore his pain at leaving Valjean and his loneliness, but he had failed. Both became worse and worse with every mile he put between himself and Valjean; he was acutely aware that he could never return. He would never return to the man who had been the center of his life…

He did not know how to cope with the burning feeling of loss, so he finally decided to try to drown his sorrows. He knew that many people tried to forget in this manner. Maybe it would work for him, too.

So he had found a table in the taproom of the inn he was staying at and ordered a jug of red wine. He had drunk his first glass. His body, unused to alcohol, soon filled with a cozy feeling of warmth. Suddenly, the sharp pain of loss seemed dulled by a layer of cotton.

Since it appeared to be working, he poured a second glass. He was going to say good-bye to Valjean in all his identities. Maybe that would make it possible to go on with his existence – though it certainly would not be fit to be called "life." "Farewell, 24601," he whispered and drank the second glass. He poured another. "Farewell, Monsieur le Maire. Farewell, M. Fauchelevent." With every farewell, he downed another glass. He took his leave from the Valjean on the barricades, the one who pulled him out of the Seine, the one who convinced him his life had meaning. Finally, he said farewell to the Jean Valjean he had shared a bed with.

In the end, the jug was dry and Javert was completely sodden.

XXX

Of course it was not until the third inn Valjean, Marius and Cosette went to that their search was successful. What they found was unbelievable.

Javert's head was down on the table, several strands of his hair had come loose, and his eyes were struggling to focus enough to establish whether he had drunk two jugs or was seeing double. But even this simple question was too much for him.

Valjean did not know whether to sigh with relief, cry with pity at Javert's miserable condition, or laugh at the sight. Relief won out. To avoid being overwhelmed by that feeling, which was quickly rising in intensity, Valjean did the one thing that had enabled him to survive decades of imprisonment and being on the run: the necessary. "Cosette, settle his tab," he instructed. "And you help me to get him into the carriage."

Together with Marius, he hoisted Javert up from his chair; surprisingly, they managed not to drop him.

Javert was watching them glassy-eyed, but did not offer any resistance. As their load showed no signs of cooperating, it took great effort to get him outside and into the carriage.

"I'm afraid it's going to take a while to sober him up," Cosette said, looking him over with the expertise of someone who had spent part of her childhood in a taproom. "And I'm certain he won't be feeling too well afterwards."

Sitting down next to him, Valjean rested Javert's head on his shoulder. "The things you do…" he mumbled, his voice so full of relief that there was no reproach left in the words.

Javert's foggy brain finally understood whom he was leaning against. "How come it's impossible to get away from you?" he slurred; his upper body slid onto Valjean's lap, and he fell asleep.

XXX

Someone kept banging a sledgehammer against his head; at least that was what Javert thought he felt when he woke up. He appeared to be in a hotel room, though not his own. The curtains were drawn, dimming the light in the room.

He tried to lift his head to look around further, but immediately gave up when the sledgehammer picked up its beat. Instead, he moaned quietly.

Immediately, an angelic being leaned over him, put a damp cloth on his forehead and let him sip some water. On closer inspection, the angel turned out to be Valjean's daughter.

"Good morning, Monsieur l'Inspecteur," she said warmly. "It'd be best if you just kept lying down quietly for a while. The headache will pass. It's just a bad hangover."

"How do you know?"

"I got to see more than one passed-out drunk during my time with the Thenardiers."

"Where exactly am I?"

"I don't know how much you remember," Cosette smiled, "So I'll be precise. Toulon, Post Hotel, my father's room."

"You father is here?" Javert started up, but sank back again due to the unbearable headache. "Where is he?"

Cosette's smile widened. If she had had any doubts that Valjean's feeling where requited with equal strength, the joy and worry on Javert's face would have settled them. "Next door. He was here all night. But you woke up once before, about half an hour ago – with rather… unappetizing consequences. He's freshening up."

Javert moaned again. "Please tell me I didn't…"

"You did."

"Oh God." He was trying desperately to fight down the mortification about losing even his last shred of dignity. "But what is he doing here? I mean, he shouldn't be here. It's much too dangerous."

"He followed you without giving any thought to the danger. He even went to the police headquarters here, without any hesitation, to ask for you. And if it had been necessary, he would have walked right through the doorway to hell to look for you there." Cosette took a deep breath. "If you ever dare to leave his side again, you'll have to answer to me."

The sledgehammer had stopped, but Javert's thinking was still strongly impeded. "We have your blessing?"

"I can't claim to fully understand what is between him and you, but clearly you make him happy, and that's all that matters."

Slowly, Javert was beginning to remember why he had fled to Toulon. "What about your husband? His reaction was not nearly as understanding as yours."

Instead of replying, Cosette went to the door, opened it and beckoned someone to enter. Marius was clearly uncomfortable. "I have to apologize for my words, M. Javert. Not knowing all the facts, I jumped to a completely wrong conclusion, and acted rashly," he began the speech he had carefully planned on the journey. "My father-in-law has informed me in the meantime that you used your carriage to help bring me to safety during the riots. I should have thanked you, rather than making false accusations. I would like to tell you that you'll always be welcome in my house, not just as a friend of my father-in-law, but as a friend of the entire family. I…"

"Marius," Cosette interrupted his torrent of words and indicated the door. Valjean had appeared behind Marius, rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

"I'm sure you will excuse us, M. Javert," Marius said with a bow. He and Cosette left the room.

"Is this your first hangover?" Valjean asked, after they had simply looked at each other for a while.

"Yes, and I don't think I want to repeat the experience," Javert replied. "Did I really…?" He indicated the towel.

"It doesn't matter. I should have seen it coming, given the condition you were in."

"Saint Jean's at it again, huh?" The mockery was more than canceled out by the look in Javert's eyes.

Valjean made a face anyway. He threw the towel on a chair, went to the bed, and sat on its edge. "I assume Cosette and Marius have told you what they had to say."

"They have."

"So no more plans to disappear from my life forever for fear of turning my family away from me?"

"No." Javert still had trouble admitting that his reaction might have been wrong, or at least rash.

"My goodness - and you call me 'Saint Jean'!" Leaving me was the most selfless thing anyone's ever done for me," Valjean said after almost a minute of silence. "Even though in hindsight, it turned out to be rather superfluous."

"You must have lost your mind to come here," Javert replied.

"My mind has never worked all that well where you were concerned." Valjean smiled.

"I don't know what I would have done if someone had recognized and arrested you. Apply as a guard again? Try to break you free? Commit a crime so I might at least be with you?"

"You really would have done that?"

"I don't know. A few weeks ago, any of these ideas would have seemed completely ridiculous." Javert tried to shake his head; that worsened the headache, which had at last stopped hammering. "But then my well-ordered world drowned in the Seine, and suddenly I was part of your world. You have to admit that the world of Jean Valjean can be quite bewildering at times."

"You're telling me – I've been living with that fact for twenty years."

"I might occasionally need your help to survive in this world."

Instead of a reply, Valjean kissed him gently.

"Let me take you home," Valjean whispered after they broke apart.

XXX

However, they could not leave for Paris quite that quickly. Javert needed several hours until he felt able to even stand up. Every movement elicited a fervent promise never to drink a single drop of alcohol again.

In an attempt to make up for having caused the misunderstanding in the first place, Marius tried every hangover cure he knew. Among other things, he brought Javert a pickle and some smelly sardines. Looking at the pickle made Javert's face turn a corresponding color, and the sardines would certainly have caused another unappetizing accident if there had been anything left in his stomach.

So they decided to leave the next morning. Around midday, Cosette was sleeping in the carriage, leaning on Marius's shoulder. The latter had also dozed off.

"You have to promise me something, Javert," Valjean said quietly. "And I will promise you the same thing. You and I – that's not always going to be easy. We have a difficult past to deal with, not to mention a complicated present and future. If things get rough, we cannot run away from each other anymore. We're both too old to chase the other across the country for a few decades. Instead, we need to face problems side by side."

Javert took Valjean's outstretched hand. "I might comment that you have much more experience running away than I do – but I won't," he said seriously. He was looking for words that would once and for all close the abyss that had opened before them a few days ago. "I will repeat a promise I've made to you once before, many years ago in Montreuil-sur-mer, though I may have meant it differently back then. I swear to you, Valjean, I will be wherever you are."