Some drabble really, it's how I would have liked Javert's ending to be. I didn't like that he had to be all alone.
You can imagine that Javert's last song happened at the line break. It's more based on the movie because it's been awhile since I've seen the play itself... I really need to watch it live again. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy!
Javert stood, stock still, fist trembling around his gun. Weakly, his fingers released the polished thing, letting it drop down and smack into the filth below.
Damn him.
Ignoring the tiredness seeping through his veins, he turned and stared after his should-be enemy. Valjean continued on regardless, struggling with the chill, the exhaustion, the pent up emotions, everything. Yet he kept going.
Damn him.
Javert smacked a gloved hand against his head; his own brain was turning against him.
Damn him to hell. Damn them all to hell. Every last one of them.
They had beaten him, nearly killed him. Why, in God's name, should he be feeling such… sadness at their passing? Those school boys, those children, barely old enough to tie their own shoes. Each of them had had a future. Now that future lay in tatters, just like their beloved flags, among the blood drenched cobblestones.
Once again, the face of the youngest, Gavroche, floated into his mind. Death bleached face unnaturally still as it would never have been in life. Gone was that smile, that insistent voice that seemed to always crop up at the heart of trouble. Gone was a life so vibrant and full of wonder.
Damn them.
"Valjean!" he called, legs striding forward at no conscious command. The older man paused and didn't turn around.
"Yes, Javert?" he asked, softly. "There is little time, so please make it quick."
Once again, Javert hesitated. Then his fists clenched tightly.
Damn it all to hell.
"Lead the way," he commanded shortly, shouldering the weight of the boy. For a moment, Valjean was confused; he resisted the pull, suspicious and protective. But then he barked out an exhausted laugh.
Stars gleamed down upon the black world below. Water stretched out far in front of his vision as he stood there, staring at the rushing waters.
What was he to do? What could he do? Everything he had ever believed, every ideal he had ever been able to hold onto had been ripped away from him.
His mind was in chaos, bedlam.
"Javert!"
Head whipping to the side, he narrowed his eyes as he spotted Valjean making his way up the dam.
"You always did like high places," Valjean chuckled.
Javert raised an eyebrow, surveying him coldly. There was a moment of silence.
"The boy…?" Javert murmured. "Is he…?"
"Alive," Valjean replied, "they say he will recover well. Physically at least. As for his mental well being…" He trailed off sadly.
A sigh of relief escaped Javert's lips, surprising even him. At least it hadn't all been in vain. Something at least had escaped the horror and the bloodshed.
"Are you not going to arrest me?" Valjean asked lightly. Sombre, Javert didn't look at him, keeping his head fixed on the icy waters.
"I have a feeling I will not be arresting anyone ever again," he replied. Confused, Valjean waited for him to continue, tilting his head to get a better look at Javert's face. Attempting to figure out what the other man was thinking. It was not easy.
Face turning further away, Javert clenched his gloved fists.
"What happened to the girl? Cosette?" The question was a last ditch attempt to give his mind a point to focus on.
"She is… beautiful," Valjean replied, appearing for all the world like a real father. "And she has grown a strong heart. A kind heart."
"Yet it would still break," Javert began, "if, for instance, her father were to vanish."
"She would survive." Valjean looked glumly up at the stars. "She will have to." A silence followed his words; it stretched on until finally, Valjean looked to the side once again. "What do you intend to do?" he asked.
For the first time, Javert turned his head and stared the old man in the eyes. The sense of loss and confusion, maybe even fear, showed clearly in him. "Start anew," Javert murmured, "What else can I do?"
With a smile, Valjean placed a hand on Javert's shoulder. "I like to think that…" he chuckled, "if our situation had been different we might have been friends… We might still be. You must come and see me, sometime in the future, when we have both been able to change."
"Perhaps," Javert whispered, almost absentmindedly. "Probably not." His mind was set.
"I wish you all the best," Valjean said, entirely sincere. He turned and walked toward the steps. It was the sudden rush of air a few moments later that made him freeze. It felt like his body was suddenly too slow as he turned.
Javert's eyes were closed as the wind rippled his clothes and played with his hair.
Hand stretched out, as though he could catch him, Valjean stared, eyes horror widened as Javert plummeted down to earth.
At the last moment, he turned away. Not wanting to witness the end. But his ears could not escape the sickening thud that marked the end.
It was over, finished. But not in the way that Valjean could ever have guessed or hoped for.