12
Title: "Rescue"
Author: Darkover
Rating: T, for mention of attempted suicide, prostitution, criminal acts, some violence
Disclaimer: The characters of "Les Miserables" were created by Victor Hugo, not by me, nor am I the author of the musical. I am merely borrowing the characters, and no attempt is made to claim otherwise. No violation of copyright is intended.
Summary: Javert is saved from suicide by Valjean, but it becomes more complicated than that, especially as it is not always clear who is saving whom.
Author's Note: While I have used some details from the book, such as the servant Toussaint, for the most part, I have purposely not adhered to the book in its entirety. There are many details from the novel that I have just disregarded; for example, in this story Javert did not submit his resignation before attempting suicide. Also, whenever I visualize Valjean or Javert, I see Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe in those roles, so I suggest that the reader do otherwise.
~ooo0ooo~
Chapter One: "The Man Belongs to You"
Normally Valjean preferred nothing better than an evening at home with the girl whom he loved as a daughter, but rather than facing the questions he knew Cosette had about his actions of the last couple of days—including the fact that they were no longer going to leave France for England—he told her he needed a walk to clear his head. She offered to go with him, but as it was after dark, he thanked her but told Cosette he preferred that she remain home.
He walked to the Seine, and to his surprise there was a man standing atop the very edge of the bridge. Surprise turned to shock when he realized, in a flash of insight, both who the man was and what he was intending to do.
"Javert, step back!" he called out, racing toward the dark figure.
For a heart-stopping instant, he thought the Inspector would ignore him and just step out into the void anyway. As Javert slowly turned his head to face him, Valjean felt his blood go cold; never had he seen such an empty expression on the face of a living man, not even in the prison at Toulon. The Inspector stared at him and then said abruptly, "What is it to you what I do? What does it matter?"
Valjean took a few steps closer. "It matters to the police. You are still an Inspector—"
"No. I have failed in my duty," Javert said, sounding remote. "I should arrest you, but I cannot. You spared my life. You are a good man, but you are a criminal. Allowing you to continue at liberty is against the law, but arresting you would be unjust. I cannot reconcile the two."
"Javert, you are a Catholic!" Valjean said desperately, as he continued to edge close to the Inspector. "You know that your life is not yours to throw away!"
Javert continued to gaze at his old quarry with empty eyes. Whatever his decision might have been, Valjean did not know, as he did not wait to find out. The instant he was close enough, he grabbed the Inspector with both hands and yanked him away from the edge of the bridge, pulling Javert to him in a convulsive bear hug. The Inspector did not resist, but neither did he respond.
"Come with me," Valjean whispered in his old pursuer's ear. "It will be all right. You'll see."
~ooo0ooo~
Valjean got the two of them home somehow. There was no resistance from Javert, but neither was there any word spoken, nor any kind of a response from him. While it made the walk easier, it still worried Valjean. It was not like the Inspector to be so passive. By the time they reached Valjean's home, both Cosette and the servant were in their beds. Javert watched Valjean with dull eyes as the latter unlocked the door, and then allowed Valjean to lead him inside.
"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Valjean asked gently.
Javert looked at him blankly, as if Valjean were speaking a foreign language, and then gave his head a marginal shake.
"Let us get you to bed, then," Valjean said. The continuing emptiness of the other man's expression frightened him. "Tonight you must sleep, and then tomorrow you must eat, understand?"
The Inspector did not answer. Valjean led him into the master bedroom. "Sit down."
Javert did not move. Valjean pushed him into a seated position on the edge of the bed, and then knelt to remove the other man's shoes. As Valjean performed this action, Javert continued to sit motionless, his eyes blank and lacking focus. He seemed to have shut down completely. Valjean rose, gently stripped the Inspector of his coat, hung it in the wardrobe, and then reached for the button on the other man's collar. It was only when he began to unfasten it that the Inspector showed some response; he blinked, eyes gaining some awareness for a moment as he pushed Valjean's hands away. "What are you doing?" he asked with an edge in his voice.
"Getting you ready for bed. You need to sleep," Valjean reminded him. He was actually a bit relieved to hear the undertone of anger in the other man's voice. Right now, he would almost have welcomed Javert snarling at him and calling him "scum." It was at least a sign of life.
"I am not a child! You will not undress me!"
"All right. Do it yourself, then. I shall fetch a nightshirt for you to wear." Valjean turned away, crossed the room to his dresser, opened a drawer, and looked through it until he found a clean nightshirt. When he turned back a moment later, the garment in hand, he gasped at what he saw. Javert had removed his shirt, and in so doing revealed that his torso and arms were covered with welts and bruises, as well as rope burns that remained on his neck and wrists.
"Dear God, man, what happened to you?" he cried.
Javert did not answer, did not even look in Valjean's direction as the latter crossed the room in two strides and dropped the nightshirt onto the bed. When Valjean ran his hands over Javert's chest however, attempting to assess the injuries, the Inspector did wince and emitted a faint hiss as his ribs were touched, although otherwise he made no sound.
"I shall call a doctor first thing in the morning," Valjean promised. "For now, I will bind these wounds, and then let you sleep."
Again, Javert did not answer. Valjean left the room to fetch what was needed. When he returned a few minutes later, the Inspector was still staring at nothing, and there was no sign that he had moved. He was like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
For a few minutes, Valjean concentrated solely on spreading liniment over the worst of the injuries, including the burns left by the ropes. He noticed that the Inspector flinched every time his ribs were touched, so he unrolled bandages and moved to bind those ribs carefully. "How did this happen, Inspector?" he asked quietly.
Typically, there was no response, but this time, Valjean was too agitated to let it pass. "Answer me, Javert. Who did this to you?"
Valjean had not spoken harshly, but the tone of command was what was needed. The part of Javert's brain that was conditioned to obey orders responded to it. Quietly, almost inaudibly, he answered; "The revolutionaries. When they found out I was a spy. They struck me with a truncheon, bound me, dragged me into a back room, and then…they all seemed to go mad for several minutes. They kicked me, struck me, over and over…one of them put a noose around my neck, pulled it tight in such a way that I was compelled to remain on my knees, but also that I had to remain upright as much as I could, else I would choke. They had been cursing and insulting me, but after they made me wear the noose and they saw me on my knees, they laughed. I think that was the worst part. When they laughed." He lapsed into silence once more.
"I'm sorry," was all Valjean could think of to say. He felt a sudden attack of dread. "Marius—did he join in doing this?"
"No. He stayed outside, at the barricades. I doubt if he was even aware it was happening. The blond boy, Enjolras, did not join in, either. He struck me with the truncheon, but he had not followed the others into the tavern, and so did not join the others when they were attacking me. When he heard the commotion, he came in and put a stop to it."
"I am sorry," Valjean said again. He stood and wiped his hands on a towel. "No one should be treated like that."
"I deserved it."
Valjean put his hands on the other man's slumped shoulders. "Inspector, you were only doing what you thought was right."
"No," Javert said quietly.
"Pardon?"
"I was a spy," Javert said, staring at the floor. "It was not right, but I could think of nothing else to do. They were revolutionaries, traitors, I told myself, they deserved no better, but still…spying is something I have always despised. I have never concealed myself, or who I am. I have always done my duty openly. But I could think of no other way of nipping the revolution in the bud. I thought that if I knew their secrets, then the revolutionaries would be overpowered quickly, with little or no loss of life. But that did not happen. I did no good. The uprising took place anyway, and so many died…my men, soldiers, those schoolboys, that gamin...It was all for nothing. I am nothing."
Valjean was dumbfounded. Up until this point, he had believed that Javert enforced the law with such single-minded obsession out of a sense of promoting his own power and prestige. Mentally, he chastised himself. He should have realized that a man so dedicated was not acting out of any sense of personal glory. "That is not true," he managed at last.
"No?" Javert lifted his eyes for a moment. "I was wrong about the approach I took to stopping the revolutionaries. I was wrong about you. I have been wrong about everything, it seems, all of my life. I must have done incalculable harm." Then his eyes went blank again as he once more lapsed into silence.
Valjean shook his head in wordless negation, but Javert was not looking at him, so he decided to resume the task of helping the man get the rest he so clearly needed. After a momentary hesitation, Valjean reached for the buttons on the other man's trousers. "Forgive me, Inspector…"
Javert again pushed his hands away. "No."
"You need to sleep," Valjean insisted again. "Let me help you into bed."
"I will do it myself," the Inspector said wearily. "Just go."
Valjean picked up the remaining bandages, liniment, and the rest of the items he had used to tend the other man's wounds, and left the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.
While Javert was changing, Valjean went to the kitchen, found some milk that the servant Toussaint had set aside to make blancmange, poured it into a small pan, and put it on the stove to warm. When it had done so, he poured it into a wineglass, added a hefty dollop of brandy, and carried the wineglass back to the master bedroom. Once there, he rapped lightly to announce his entrance, and went in.
Javert was now wearing the nightshirt and had even gotten into the bed, but that seemed to have taken the last of his strength and initiative. The blank, unfocused look was back. Valjean extended the wineglass to him. "I have brought you this posset," he said gently. "It is warm milk and brandy, to make you drowsy and help you to sleep." Privately, Valjean doubted if help was necessary, as the Inspector already looked exhausted, but Valjean wanted the man to sleep through the night. It would not do for Javert to wake and then make another attempt to harm himself.
Javert's head made only a marginal turn in his host's direction, and he seemed barely aware of Valjean's presence. Certainly he made no attempt to accept the wineglass.
Belatedly recalling that explanations were not the way to get the Inspector to acquiesce, Valjean made it a command. "Drink," he said, as if expecting to be obeyed, and this time Javert took the wineglass and drained it. Valjean suspected he could have told his guest, "This is milk laced with arsenic," and the Inspector's reaction would have been the same. The dull-eyed, hopeless look was disturbing.
Valjean took the emptied wineglass and carried it back to the kitchen. When he returned to the bedroom, it was to find that the Inspector had fallen asleep. Silently and reverently Valjean thanked God and all the saints for that, but he also wondered what he should do. The bed was big enough for them both, but the good God alone knew what the Inspector's reaction would be should he awaken to find himself in bed with 24601. He, Valjean, could make up a pallet for himself on the floor—he had certainly slept in worse places, under far more difficult circumstances—but in the end, he decided to get into bed with Javert. That way, should the man awaken in the night and decide to make another attempt at suicide, at least his, Valjean's, body would be between Javert and the door.
Valjean undressed swiftly, put on a nightshirt, performed his nightly ablutions, and after gazing thoughtfully for a moment longer at the vulnerable, sleeping man who had once been the nemesis of his life, blew out the candles, carefully adjusted the bedclothes about them both, and said a silent prayer before closing his own eyes. Grant that his health and his sanity may return, Gracious Lord. Help me to help him, if I can.
~ooo0ooo~
Valjean had not been asleep long when he was awakened by a noise. Coming instantly to alertness—a trait developed and refined during the years he had been a prisoner—he was surprised to find it was his companion. Javert had curled up into a semi-fetal position, his body rigid and tense; he was making tiny whimpering sounds as his eyes flickered behind the closed lids. The Inspector clearly was in the grip of a nightmare.
Valjean's heart almost broke with pity. He knew from his own experience what it was like to have nightmares, and he knew it did not make a man any less of a man to suffer from such night terrors. He also recalled how Cosette, for weeks after having been removed from the dubious care of the Thenadiers, had whimpered and cried with bad dreams. So, Valjean, not knowing how else to help, did to the Inspector what he had done for his foster daughter at such times.
Lightly, he placed one hand on the other man's forehead, and then gently, so very gently, smoothed the dark hair back from the Inspector's brow as he whispered; "Sshh, Javert. Hush now, you are safe. Quite safe. Hush now, all will be well. Ssshhh…" A moment later, using the other hand, he began slowly, tenderly rubbing the other man's back in a soothing gesture.
After a few moments of this tender treatment, Javert quieted. His body relaxed and eased into a more comfortable position; his lips, which had been so tightly pressed together, as if to keep back the sounds of pain and fear even while unconscious, parted slightly as his breathing deepened and slowed, and he returned to a more normal sleep. Valjean watched him for a few moments longer, making certain the nightmare had dissipated, before turning over and returning to sleep himself. There were no more disturbances that night.
TBC…