A/N: Contains mild slash.
There. The last report was stamped and signed. Lord, he had come to hate this time of the month. Javert huffed a sigh whilst soothing his tight temples with his fingertips. Another deep release of breath and he got to his feet. He had a plan as meticulous as any to see it through – now that he was aware of his socially-questionable behaviour – but it didn't make the experience any easier to bear.
Javert slid his weighty greatcoat over his bulky frame, sat his hat atop his head then, tucking his nightstick under his arm, took his leave for the day. Evening was not completely over Montreuil-sur-Mer, but the ombre cloak high above indicated it wouldn't be long before they were completely swathed. He lived not quite ten minutes away, in one of the more modest dwellings; still, he walked with a brisk, purposeful stride in a race against the stars.
Having left the station much earlier than usual now afforded him with the chance to give attention to the ever-growing mound of papers that had taken root on his desk. At least, that was the plan until a brusque rap on the front door demanded his attention. The Mayor was stood the other side.
"Forgive me, Inspector" Valjean, still in his Mayoral guise and a touch breathless, didn't allow Javert a chance to greet him. "I have urgent business to attend – May I leave Cosette in your care for a short while?"
Javert dropped his sea-blue gaze downwards; it was only on hearing the child's name that he became aware of her presence. Of all the people, Javert thought, Monsieur le Maire wanted to leave the child with him! Why not one of the factory workers, the local priest or midwife (someone with experience in dealing with such creatures). Heck, there was even a cell going free in the station at present if no other solution could be found.
Javert buffeted his train of thought. "Of course, Monsieur le Maire."
Javert held out his arm, rigid and prostrate, to the little girl. Swallowing a wince, the elder man knelt so as his own blue eyes met those of Cosette's large, sad ones.
"I need you to stay with Inspector Javert, Cosette." His large hand rested on her reedy shoulder, "Only for a little while."
"You will come back, Papa?"
Valjean kissed the top of her head at that, "Of course."
"Come, Cosette." Javert clutched her hand, rougher than he intended.
Valjean nodded a thank you to the Inspector before he straightened up and took his leave. Javert, with Cosette now in his arms and spindly legs hooked about his waist, watched as the darkness swallowed the last few wisps of daylight and momentarily scrutinised the heavens for the orb that had become a curse to him.
Back in the safe harbour of the sitting room Javert had little notion of what he should do with the child; his best effort to amuse her consisted of supplying her with a scrap of paper, a pen and half-empty bottle of gloopy ink before he returned to the pressing matter of his paperwork. They were quiet for some time, and Javert found himself wishing that all children could be as easily appeased and silent as Cosette seemed to be…until there came a starburst of delighted laughter and a jump jangled his nerves.
"COSETTE!"
It was the fright and his own inability to compose himself that rankled him more than the child. He turned sharply, his growl still evident in his features.
"I made a monster." She explained innocently, her eyes glossy.
Javert trailed his line of sight from the girl to the chair next to her – a shakily drawn circle for a face, an incongruent mountain range for the teeth and mouth, onyx pools for eyes and tangled worms served as hair – had been sketched onto the paper and the object hooked onto the back of the chair.
"I want to catch monsters, like you."
At that moment Javert made his first memory around something other than duty or distain. He felt his heart warm as a smile teased his lips.
"He needs clothes and a name." Javert said, his tone very matter-of-fact, and he left the room.
He returned presently with a rumpled, moth-eaten greatcoat and another piece of paper. Cosette watched with enchantment as Javert swathed the coat over the frame of the chair.
"Now, what shall we call him?"
Cosette thought for a moment: "Philippe."
"Very well. Now he needs a number." He picked up the pen and, with the fresh paper, handed them both to Cosette. "Write, Cosette – Two, Four, Six, Oh, One."
Cosette held her handiwork out to Javert and watched as he secured it to the front of the worn greatcoat. Helping to craft this monster had been all Javert had intended to do, but in the presence of a child whose beginnings had involved a life so much in a world of make-believe that the activity soon escalated and Javert was swiftly swept along by her current. A chase game had ensued, each alternating the role of pursuer and pursued; Javert wasn't completely sure how Cosette had found her way into the garden, and whilst he was confident that she couldn't get any further than the thicket of its boundaries, the idea of leaving her to return of her own accord and the wrath of the Mayor if, God forbid, anything should befall her was enough to push Javert over the precipice and risk his own capture by the moon's glowing snare.
He could hear her sweet giggles, taunting him to step out of the shadows.
"Cosette" his voice was firm. "Come out, now."
Another giggle. Another taunt.
"Cosette." His voice deepened, edged with a growl.
She was hiding behind the apple tree at the far end of the garden; a garden that was currently awash with silver light.
"I'm not Cosette" the child's voice floated across the grassy gulf, "I'm a convict and you have to catch me."
Javert squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deep; maybe he could quickly dash across to her. Seven or eight large strides, scoop her up and get back before there was any real effect upon him. Alternatively, they could maintain this stalemate until the Mayor's return and he could retrieve his daughter…but, if something should happen; if she should move and fall, if she should escape the garden, if…
"To hell with it!" Javert muttered through an exhaled breath, and he made his first bold step into the watchful eye of the moon.
His focus was Cosette; he didn't register his tongue sliding between his dry lips, or the squelching noises as his lips pressed hard together then released. The rapid fire of kisses continued upon reaching Cosette; she giggled to begin with, as one caught her cheek, the next the top of her head.
"A kissing monster!" she cried, laughing still, as the Inspector swept her up, and she ducked about in his arms.
Another brush of his lips caught her ear. "Please Monsieur, no more."
Javert, however, seemed not to hear her. She ducked from another swipe of his lips and kicked her legs to wriggle from his hold.
"Monsieur." The girl squirmed some more. "Let me go."
Javert stepped into the shadow of the house as the Mayor's voice was heard across the garden. On seeing her father, Cosette writhed frantically to be free of Javert's arms. At once the Inspector slid the blonde-haired child from his hip to the ground and she bounded to her father's side.
"Papa!" she shrieked excitedly, "Inspector Javert and I were playing."
The clouds rolled over and a cool breeze fluttered around them. Valjean gave the girl a gentle smile: "Go inside, Cosette, I need to speak with Inspector Javert."
"Monsieur le Maire" Javert bowed his head, "I did not see you; forgive me."
"I watched you, Inspector." Valjean's voice was stern. "You didn't stop when Cosette asked you to."
"Asked me?" Javert's expression contracted with confusion.
"Just now" Valjean gave a small nod of his head, "She seemed rather distressed."
Javert truly could not recall; he remembered standing in the shadows privately debating whether to fetch Cosette, followed by his surprise at the appearance of the Mayor. It was on seeing the garden radiate with bright light from high above that Javert was able to make sense of the conversation.
"I'm afraid I do no recall, Monsieur le Maire." Javert looked at the Mayor directly in the eye.
"Do not recall, Inspector?" Valjean sounded perplexed.
Javert swallowed thickly, "As absurd this will sound to you, it is the moonlight, Monsieur le Maire."
"The moonlight?"
"Yes" Javert remained sombre. "For as long as I can recall, there have been many puzzling moments where I have found myself in situations that have been quite unexplainable, and I have no recollection as to how they came about. These situations, I have been told, involves me-" here Javert paused, unsure if he could bring himself to let the word pass his lips, "…involves me kissing a frightened party, or object. There was even one instance where I kissed a horse." He added that last part almost as an afterthought before continuing, "In recent months I have become confident exposure to moonlight is the cause."
Throughout Valjean's expression had danced between amusement and bemusement, and the seriousness of Javert's countenance and tone of voice, only caused further mirth for Valjean. It was the proclamation about the horse that had truly done it and, on the final utterance from Javert, a huge bout of laughter burst forth from Valjean.
"Monsieur, I do not jest!" Javert indignantly stamped his foot before he grabbed tight of Valjean's own greatcoat and twirled them both into the silvery wash just feet away.
Valjean was shoved against the rough stone wall, hard enough for the breath to be beaten out of him. Javert had the lapels of the elder man's greatcoat scrunched in his fists, clinging so tight as though he would drown if he didn't. Valjean wasn't able to take another breath before the Inspector's thin lips were hard against his own and his sleek, wet tongue pushed deep into his mouth. He could feel it there, exploring every crevice, sliding against his own, the soft tip pressing firmly against the pillowy flesh of the roof of his mouth. The Mayor shifted his stance, though not much as Javert had him pinned tight between the wall and his own body; so close that Valjean could feel the planes of firm muscles beneath his shirt. Another small movement and their hips were flush; that insistent tongue was pushing towards his throat as something else pushed with equal resolve against Valjean's stomach. Valjean was confused, it wasn't a sabre as Javert wasn't in full uniform, nor could it be his nightstick for that matter. A gravelled moan echoed through him, the only source of which could be his police inspector, and he at once realised just what was demanding his attention.
Valjean should push him away, he knew. Lead Javert back to the shadows and discuss what they were to do, yet he couldn't. A small seed, long kept in the darkness, now had the water and light it had craved and the bloom opened in a starburst of colour; Valjean's large hands gripped Javert, one on the expanse of his back, the other firmly on his hip, and pulled the man towards him. The hand on the inspector's back quickly slithered up and into the long tresses of hair as Valjean widened his mouth and twisted his tongue around Javert's own.
Another cool breeze weaved between them, and for which Valjean was grateful, but it pulled with it another veil of cloud. Javert's actions ceased as rapidly as they had started; Javert stood apart from the Mayor, his eyes fixed on the floor, breathing hard and the sheen of wetness around his mouth allowed him to quickly deduce what had transpired.
Valjean, with the primitive cortex of his mind still relishing the delight that raged a torrent through his blood, spoke with a coarse egde: "Tell me I was better than the horse."
"How can you jest?" Hot embarrassment flushed into Javert's cheeks. "You must dismiss me, Monsieur le Maire. I am not fit to do my duty."
"Nonsense, Javert!" Valjean scoffed. "You will remain in your post and on nights such as this, you will come to me."
Javert did not look up.
"Am I understood, Inspector?"
Javert raised his head a little, meeting Valjean's blue eyes out the corner of his own. "Yes, Monsieur le Maire."
"Good. Now, tell me more about that horse."