My first Les Miserables fanfic, I hope I do not disappoint you. I am a big fan of the musical and movie, and right now reading the novel. :)
This is a little story (four to six chapters at most) on the rise and fall of our dear Inspector. I've tried to stick to the original story as much as possible, though most of the background and end come from the imagination of yours truly. I hope you enjoy it. :) And, since today is the year anniversary of my CATCF fic, Broken Shards of Chocolate Glass, you should check that out if you want more of me in the literary sense. ;)
Rating: T for the first two chapters (just to displayed and recognized) I will change it to M in chapter three, for Violence/Gore, Language, and overall Dark Themes.
Songs That Inspired The Story: Bring Him Home and Epilogue from Les Miserables, and Skinny Love by Birdy.
On with the show!
~20, December, 1832~
These prison walls have eyes.
Number 53702, it is time to meet your fate.
They are always silent, always watching.
You will executed by firing squad. Sound familiar, 53702?
Funny thing about these walls, though, they never look away.
"My name is Javert."
Or scream.
"May God have mercy on your soul, Javert."
No matter how hideous it gets.
The execution chamber still has brains on the titles...
There are many things in this world that are worse than death.
Emilee, I can see her. Emilee, come to me.
Today we will be experiencing such things.
Emilee. Take me now, Lord. Take me now, God!
Come with me, and I'll tell you a story.
Emilee, ma chérie...
I'll show you something
xxx
~April, 1st, 1790~
Would you be surprised if I told you that Inspector Javert was not born a cold man or a cynic, that he was born on the infected concrete of a prison floor? His mother was a gypsy fortune-seller who had been raped by one of the guards.
Her name was Nadya, and her crime was killing the father who sold her.
It was a murder, but not a crime.
She pushed out baby Javert with her eyes wide and glassy, shrieking at the men who sat the shadows. They waited like wolves, howling and moaning at the smell and sight of her. The sweat on her naked body. The child was crowning; a dark head of hair among her womanhood. The fourteen-year-old sobbed and forced one more contraction.
"Out with it, girl. Out with it."
"Do not force her, Monsieur. Her and the baby will die."
"Good. There is enough scum in this cell. Now out with it!"
A final scream and tear. Then, at last, a cry.
The miserable babe landed slick on the concrete.
"It's a boy." said the nursemaid, living Javert up to the warden. "Look at his hair, it's already curled."
A gruffed retort, "Leave it to die.".
"No, Monsieur. I will take him home."
"I...want it." whimpered Nadya, "I...I want it.", her face flushed and dying. Her blood was starting to arose the prisoners further; they would not wait for long. She lifted her arms to her son, her newborn gift. "P-Please, Madam, he belongs here."
"Leave. It." The warden's voice peaked as the men became more unyielding. "Let that miserable thing die!" The child gave a cry of protest, his tiny, fluid covered fist raised against the nursemaid's shoulder.
"I will have him, Monsieur, this infant is a child of God." She kissed the top of his head and tugged on the knot of her apron. Then, wrapping it around the struggling babe, she added. "My husband and I are not able to conceive."
Nadya laid still, open-legged and forgotten on the prison floor. "B-But...I want i-"
"Shut up, you vermin bitch!" The Warden lost grip on his already short patience, and sneering, he turned to the nursemaid with a balmy fury in his pale eyes. "Fine, take it. Raise the rat as your own. I do not care!"
And that's exactly what the nursemaid did, she walked to the iron door with a smile on her plain, young face, daring the prisoners to lunge at her. The Warden unlocked the gate with a curt nod towards them. "Do as you please."
As soon as the iron slammed into place, they could hear Nadya's pleas. "No. No! P-Please, I just had a child!"
But nothing cared.
"Lovely lady, let us have a bite." They pushed down their trousers, and grinning, dragged her limp, naked body to a dark corner of the cell.
"I wouldn't be surprised if they killed her." said The Warden, scowling. And, as if on cue, the child mother's screams began. They raped her, all of them, from every angle. She made sounds like some terrible, wounded animal. Such horror right in the infant's face.
Then -without warning- a snap, a scream, and broken back. The young nursemaid let out a gasp and ran, clutching the baby against her chest. She ran past cheering cell-blocks, past wandering eyes and brutal shouts. She didn't stop until she reached the front gate.
Then, with Javert locked firmly in her arms, she collapsed onto the pavement, trembling. The plain girl stared into his tiny face, still chalky with birth matter. With his eyes shut tight and his dark hair so damp and matted down, he looked exactly as the warden described him, a miserable rat. But she held him close all the same, weeping and shaking and weeping some more. She wept for the dead Gypsy girl, she wept for her barren womb, and- most of all- she wept for her newborn son.
"Y-You are a g-gift...from G-God." hiccuped the girl, whose true name was Colette Thenardier, between ragged gasps. "Y-You are not rat, you a-are not dirt. B-Being born i-into miser-ry means n-nothing. I promise that I will shelter you in love, I-I promise to make an honest man out of you..."
Another gasp, a shiver, and finally a whisper. "Javert. I will be your Mama until the day I die, Javert."
And with a tender kiss on Javert's forehead, she rose from the ground, the bottom of her white skirts caked with grime. Madame Thenardier wiped her nose on the edge of her sleeve and walked home to the dismal apartment in Saint Michel, all while carrying the naked, bloodied infant.
She was quite a sight to all who passed her.
Je sens sur tes lèvres
Une odeur de fièvre
De gosse mal nourri
Et sous ta caresse
Je sens une ivresse
Qui m'anéantit
Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux miséreux
Les ailes des moulins protègent les amoureux
Mais voilà qu'il flotte
La lune se trotte
La princesse aussi
Sous le ciel sans lune
Je pleure à la brune
Mon rêve évanoui
Quite a sight, indeed.
Okay, first chapter. I'm sorry that it's not my best, I got a little lazy at the end. The lullaby Colette is singing is from a musical called Moulin Rouge and it translates to this.
I feel your lips
A smell of fever
Malnourished kid
And under your caress
I feel an intoxication
Which destroys me
The stairs of the mound are hard to needy
Wings protect mills lovers
But now it floats
The moon walkers
The princess also
Under the moonless sky
I cry at dusk
My dream faded
And...isn't it interesting, her being a Thenardier? Maybe even the mother of Monsieur Thenardier himself? Hmmm. Well, all in good time, my minions. We're going to meet Emilee in the next chapter, yay! I would like some feedback/constructive criticism/suggestions before I start writing though.
Reviews for a struggling writer?
Please.
I'm desperate. :3