Toulon is simply a synonym for hell, he thinks.
The cell is morbid and dark, and so he closes his eyes and tries to block it out. There's only a little more time to go in this place, Jean Valjean thinks as his eyes are closed, trying not to feel hopeless when he so severely is. Only two more years. That's alright. You can surely go through just two more when you've already been here for six. Only two more years...just two...
He almost drifts off to sleep there, but after several minutes of serene calm, he impetuously jerks himself away from the cell cot and lurches to his feet. It's almost as if he saw a beast behind his eyelids and instinctively dodged it. But no; he was reflecting.
"Two more years here," Jean Valjean murmurs quietly, nearly stupefied, gawking around at all four walls of the cell, wide-eyed. "Two more years. 730 days more of such torment and anguish! All over one loaf of bread!"
At this second, his mind strictly incapable of holding any thought other than liberty, Jean Valjean bolts to the window as if it is freedom itself personified. He knows there are bars on the outside of the pane to prevent this exact deed he is doing now, but he is prepared for it. This man has supernatural brawn, and when such a mighty strength is conjoined with ultimate desperation, there is nothing in the world he's incapable of doing. In five seconds the bars are entirely removed, and without the slightest pause he is out of the prison.
He dashes across the yard as fast as possible. A wave of déjà vu overcomes him as he hops over and past the gate, and he runs and runs and runs until he's sure he's reached a place beyond any possible pursuit. He leans against a tree to rest and looks around, and he experiences déjà vu once again: he realizes this is the exact path he took two years ago. He shudders to remember it; the unsuccess of his first escape makes him wary, suddenly, of this second attempt. Utter panic and grisly pressure strike him at once; why didn't he reason with himself before jumping out the window on a whim? Why couldn't he settle himself down before acting on such a jeopardous idea? If they capture him once more, his years of imprisonment will increase yet again. When the thought of two more years led him to this, an amount of five more years is simply unthinkable. To tranquilize his sudden horrors, he thinks, I'll be free alright; I must only take a different route than the last time. Liberation is still his after all.
The sky is growing red and evening is coming. He ventures past the trees with thoughts of a new start on life. He tries not to let himself worry about what that noise was over there, or if that's somebody walking behind him, or if that's a police dog barking he heard just then. He is free at last, and if he is careful, they won't take this freedom from him again.
------------------------
Jean Valjean sees policemen.
They don't notice him, but only a fool would linger and push his luck. He scrambles along a hidden path and then down a hill, out of danger's sight.
On his way, he sees a shipyard in the near distance. He almost laughs at such good fortune -- it's abandoned for the night; this means a restful sleeping spot and perhaps a good hiding place. After all, he is sure he's several miles away from the prison, and thus, safe from danger. Although the shipyard workers will return in the morning, he knows he's a very early riser and he can get up in time before they see him.
He runs to the farthest vessel back in the yard. He collapses beneath the keel of the ship, stretches out, and smiles. At last, he's past the anxiety of escapement and he can rest. As he lies down, he looks out at the twilight and a feeling of total peace overcomes him. He's not a convicted thief now; he's just a normal Frenchman admiring the stars as he lies down to sleep.
------------------------
"Wake up. It's going to be double chains for you when we get back, 24601," a stern, coarse voice says loudly and pierces his sleep. Jean Valjean jumps and his adrenaline races; he looks, wild-eyed, up at the man in front of him. It's the galley guard, and he has come to seize and then obliterate Jean Valjean's freedom.
His heart sinks.
"No," he says tenuously, weakly; he surprises himself with his own spontaneous protest. "I'm not going back. I'm not going back to that damned place, I'm not going back! I merely stole a piece of bread because my family would die if I didn't! I am never going back to Toulon again. No!"
The galley guard rolls his eyes as if he hears this often. Unfazed, the guard seizes Jean Valjean from the ground violently by the shoulders. He forces the conquered man to follow by pulling his shirt collar all along the way. People on the streets turn to stare. The guard marches on relentlessly and Jean Valjean never releases his stare from the ground, an air of unfathomable agony completing his sorrowful appearance.
It's a good thing Jean Valjean doesn't know Toulon will entomb him for another thirteen years.
Author's Note: I got all the technical stuff in this fic from the book. In the beginning it says that, when Valjean was first imprisoned, he was only sentenced to five years of it. (However, we all know what happens--he escapes over and over again, making it nineteen instead of five. Which, I knew that you knew while reading this, but I wanted to tell about his escapement a bit more in-depth. And, just because I love writing about Les Mis.) Then it says that at the end of four years of the five, he tried to escape for the first time. Then it made it eight years -- and then in the sixth year he tried to escape again. This is where this story here takes place. Why write about his second escape and not his first? It's a bit more original and interesting, if you ask me. XD
The galley guard was, of course, Javert. I didn't give him a lot of speaking lines because I was sure I would make him OOC. He's such an amazing character, don't get me wrong. It's just that I need more practice writing him.
So anyway. I hope my writing was okay. If you liked it, please review!
Jean Valjean, Javert, storyline, Les Miserables all belong to Victor Hugo. The only thing I own is the fanfiction.