Les Mis is not mine, I am not making money from this. i'm just borrowing them a sort while and will put them back when I am done =)
The first time was during an escape attempt from Toulon. He had been running desperately, aware of the guard behind him. He ran along and up a small path. It led to a wooded area, where the path rose. It was raining heavily, and the air was quite cool. He was pleased that this was so, as the exertion combined with his fear of being caught had him rather heated.
A glance behind told him the young guard was catching up, not deterred by the distance they had ran. Further back, he was sure, there would be more guards.
Javert appeared flushed, his face red and his chest heaving. Valjean turned and hurried on. He would not be caught this time. His feet fell well, missing the tree roots and the shrubbery, managing to fall only on the soaked earth, trying hard not to slip. The ground began to ascend into a hill, not a large one, thankfully but it was a noticeable climb.
His calves burned. His lungs burned. His sweat was pooling down his back. He was escaping though.
He had to slow his pace soon though, as the path came close to a steep slope. Nothing too treacherous, but there were a few particularly sharp drops and his did not wish to fall.
"Stop!" The guard's harsh voice called. He turned slightly to check his distance. The young man was hurrying towards him; he was not slowing down.
Valjean kept moving. He was nearly free. Just one guard to lose and he could be free...
A yell echoed out, and there was a loud scuffling noise behind him. Valjean turned to see the guard over the side of the path. He appeared to have bashed the side of his head; there was blood pouring down the side. He did not need to be concerned over this, head wounds often bled a fair bit, as he had discovered this from the number of fights he had seen in Toulon.
The guard was grasping a tree root though, trying to pull himself up. The ground was too steep though, and he did not seem capable of it. Now was his chance. The guard put a foot under him and went to push himself up, but yelped and fell again.
Were there tears on his eyes? Maybe it was just the rain... the sight of the mud splattered guard, his face in a pained grimace and his uniform ruined tugged at Valjean though. His fingers were only just gripping the bark now, he would fall...
There did not seem to be a moment of consideration- Valjean was already over there as soon as he realised the guard's precautious position. He grasped the young man's wrist and pulled him back up.
Javert fell against him, spreading the mud over his already filthy prison clothes. His breath was short and faint. The convict let him fall to the ground so he could check the leg. It was the left leg that was a problem, there was an obvious break in it as the shin was bent in a place that was not meant to.
He touched it lightly, curiosity overcoming him as he stared and the pale, dark haired leg of the prison guard. Javert cried out though, hands fluttering as though he did not know where to place them. Some of the water on his face was coming from his eyes...
Valjean looked over his shoulder at the path that seemed to call his freedom at him. So close... But could he leave now? How would the man get back? How close were the other guards? He was surprised they were not already here.
He stood and looked down. The guard lay beneath him, his face pale and his eyes shut. He was still gasping... There really was no choice. Maybe he could drop the young man off in town and be gone before anyone caught him.
He bent down and wrapped an arm around Javert's shoulder; the other went across his chest. Straightening his back, Valjean rose up, pulling the guard with him, who cried out weakly again. Once he was standing with the weight leaning heavily against him, he tried to decide the best way forward.
Over his shoulder? No, the guard would never agree to that, regardless of how weak he was. On his back? He would be able to see where he was putting his feet, but how would he get Javert there? He did not seem capable of standing on his own, never mind scrambling up onto his back. In his arms? The idea of carrying Javert like a woman made him blush. He would not really be able to see where he was putting his feet, but Javert's leg would get knocked around less... Plus, the guard was thin and did not seem to weigh too much.
He shifted, and tucked on hand under Javert's armpit, before bending enough the grasp under his knees. The lurch as he straightened made the guard yelp and his eyes roll back into his head. The thought of what state his leg was in made Valjean feel queasy, but he pushed it back and began to head back into town with the lax weight of the prison guard in his arms.
If they caught him, his punishment had better not be too severe for this.