Chapter 2
Javert did not comment upon this event to the convict. He was strangely silent about their night, neither more aggressive towards him, nor did he increase in gentleness. In fact, Valjean would have thought it one of those almost tangible dreams if not for one important factor: He could now feel Javert. Not physically, of course. His sentinel did not come close enough for actual contact anymore, but in his mind, his heart he could feel Javert.
It was often distracting, no matter what he was doing. He could be sat eating his gruel and experience mild anger, or staring at the sky and feel an almost unbearable misery. Once, he had been breaking rocks and noted a distant loneliness in his mind. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the feelings Valjean felt across this ribbon of emotion tended to be negative. A little over a week after their odd incident, Valjean had felt a surge of arousal, which had made him flush. The way he could feel Javert's emotions now was already far stronger than his natural empathy for those around him, but this had been approaching overwhelming.
He had put no thought into reaching down to palm himself, it was night after all. No one was focussed on him. However, too soon after this came the negative emotions Javert seemed to be made up of, including a perplexing amount of anger, of disgust at himself. Valjean was left with a despairing feeling of low self-worth that did not belong to him.
The convict spent the rest of the night trying to send positive feelings to his sentinel, and he chose not to think too deeply about his reasons for doing so.
Apart from their odd connection, there was one other change to his relationship with Javert that no longer fit that of convict and jailer, though they were once again at the end of summer before he saw it. Valjean had been caught brawling. 24996 (and Valjean did not know his name, nor did he wish to learn it,) was a murderer. This in itself was not a problem. In Toulon, there was a selection of murderers. This particular beast took great pleasure in describing his deeds. Again, this was nothing new; many men did so as a means to protect themselves from any threats that were waiting in the prison.
24996 very much enjoyed explaining how he had killed, and how he had desecrated the bodies of his victims. Feeling the joy pulsing from 24996 as he loudly told of his necrophilia, thrusting his hips in the directions of the guards made Valjean's stomach churn horrifically. He was not the only one. Many other convicts were uneasy near him; his pride in these acts unsettled even some of the more hardened criminals.
The tipping point was, however, Javert. 24996 took a great fancy to about 3 young guards, and Javert was one of them. Late into the cooling evening, Javert had been patrolling with Beausoleil, another of 24996's fancies. Valjean felt a great deal of relief to see his sentinel conversing with another guard in such a manner, because Beausoleil was showing his honest feelings in his actions, there were no undercurrents of anger, or jealousy to be found him.
The evening was rapidly spoilt by the viper watching them.
"Well, aren't the 2 of you lovely to look at? Such fresh skin and pretty eyes... I was an artist before I was trapped in here, would you pose for me?"
Valjean felt a protective irritation bubble up inside himself. Javert scowled, his hand resting on the hilt of his rapier.
"You would look beautiful, your milky white skin against his tanned skin, surrounded by the lovely red of your pulsing blood..." He was panting now, lust flooding through him. The 2 guards were both irritated and uncomfortable.
They stepped forwards, both prepared to draw their weapons, but Valjean got there first. He took 2 quick strides to cross the cell and throw his strength at his nose. 24996 went down with a howl, but it was not enough. Valjean had to purge these ugly feelings the beast filled the cell with and he continued to attack.
He paid the price for it later, of course. He was taken outside and whipped. This was only brief though, because while his outstretched arms were tied and preventing him from viewing what was going on, he could hear an inhuman snarl.
"Untie him, now!" One of the older jailers called out.
"But sir? He has not received his full punishment..." Nonetheless, quick hands were undoing the leather bindings.
As he dropped to the ground, Valjean turned to see Javert stood facing the guards. He was edging back towards Valjean, but did not take his eyes off the guard holding the whip.
"Back away," whispered the jailer, "Javert can dole out this punishment at a later point in time." And they were alone in the small courtyard.
Javert spun around and slowly approached him, gazing at him with large eyes.
"I'm fine. Honestly, a few bruises and some sore spots, but I am fine." Valjean was unsure as to why he was reassuring this guard, but the need was overwhelming. Javert shuffled uncertainly closer, a soft growl still emitting from his throat.
He placed one hand on Valjean shoulder, and spun him around. His guide went willingly, allowing the other a view of his back. He waited to see if the man had regained his speech yet, and jumped when a tongue pressed against one of the lash marks.
"No, no... Come here." Turning back, he held open his arms. His sentinel was against him in a flash, pressing close. "Shhh..." He petted Javert's hair, running fingers over it. His mind was buzzing oddly, but he could feel Javert's concern underneath his protective instinct. The man's cold nose pressed into his neck, and he listened to him sniff.
The sun was sinking in the sky before Javert roused himself. He stepped back and the natural scowl fell across his features.
"I apologise... No! I mean... I... You will receive your punishment tomorrow instead." Confusion and anger had settled in, the concern for the convict a light pressure in comparison. Valjean felt an odd desire to laugh. The attraction he felt towards Javert (and no longer could he deny its existence) had not faltered in face of the day's events.
Pushing making the mortifying endearment he felt watching his sentinel struggle to find his words and thoughts after losing himself in instinct, Valjean covered up his throbbing body and turned to present his back to Javert, wrists held behind him. It was leather, rather than cuffs that bound him, but Valjean absently supposed that the other hadn't thought to grab any in his hurry to reach him.
He did wish there was someone around who could improve his knowledge of sentinels; it would be terribly useful to explain this strange connection between them.
