Eight Years of a Righteous Life

When the letter came, telling him about his promotion, it was like a sign. Finally fate seemed to be with him. After all those years of hard working, for practically nothing as payment, his righteousness got rewarded. That proved it. Progress was possible. Advancing oneself from what a man was born at. He no longer was a poor beggar´s kid, the child of a criminal that lived in the gutter. He wasn´t doomed to be the thing he was born as.

He left Toulon with no regret on his last day, and never even looked back. It was about time to leave, and he was ready to move on. The town he was sent to was said to be well lead. A mayor of good reputation. A mayor that would need a good police inspector to keep up the law.

The sound of it was great. Police inspector. Inspector Javert. Those words went well together. Javert did not practice a lot of pride but he was proud to carry this new title. A rank that proved once again, that a man could take fate into his own hands, and could indeed go the right way. Even if he was born in sin. It was a matter of choices, nothing more.

The day he reached Montreuil was a rainy day, and somehow he felt a strange sort of Dejavu. The new uniform fitted well, and when he rode into town, he rode with four officers that had been assigned to him. Finally his leadership was recognized. He would see to them doing a good job under his command. As well as he´d see to have the support of the mayor.

He suffered all the way through this rain, feeling slightly lightheaded as they approached the factory. A part of him wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. It was a bad timing for him, his first day of duty in Montreuil. It had been tiring and the last time he´d been drinking was almost three months ago. His body was already craving, more and more each day.

He knew it was foolish to think he could fight it back even longer. He´d already extended his own limits. Because his new life was about to start, a life he wanted to be in no way overshadowed by his past. Oh God, if he only could forget about it, cut this part of him out like a sick boil and get rid of it. If he could he´d do it. But of course he couldn´t. This one thing about him would never go away, no matter how much he advanced.

He knew, and yet he tried.

Maybe he should have drunk, he mused now. He felt sick, just a bit but it was enough. God, this stupid rain. Did it really have to start raining today? Now, from all the times in the world? He wanted to make a good impression on the mayor, not one of a man that got sick on his first day.

He made his horse run faster, through the tunnel that led to the front gate of the factory. People were crowding this tunnel, seeking shelter from the rain, and as Javert glanced at them, he felt disgusted. Dirty and sick they were. Wallowing in the mud. Their gazes so accusing, as if the whole world was to blame for their misery, just not them. Never them.

You are the reason why I´m here, their gazes said. Pathetic. Taking responsibility for their own lives was nothing any of those had ever considered. Why should they? It was so much easier to blame the rest of the world than to admit that they had failed to take action for themselves when it was necessary. These people were grown ups, but they looked at him like pouting kids. I´m mad at you. You never give me what I want. Look how mad I am.

Javert clung to this disgust. It helped to remind him of why he was here. Why he worked so hard, to make something of himself. And just knowing that he´d managed exactly that, gave him enough strength to fight down this rising nausea, caused by the water on his skin.

The foreman of the factory told him the mayor was expected back soon. He should feel free to wait in his office. And the slightly arrogant tone of the man aside, Javert was glad to have a few minutes to himself. To calm down, recover from the rain, and set his mind straight, before the mayor would arrive at last, to inspect him, the new man in town.

There was a strange smell in the air. He noticed it the moment he entered the office. Something familiar, as if he had smelled it before, long ago, in a time almost forgotten. But it was faint. So faint that he couldn´t place it. So he ignored it.

He´d just managed it to calm his stomach, when he heard a sound from beneath. Women´s voices, agitated over something and when he gazed out through the glass he saw some workers, fighting over something he couldn´t see. That was the moment a man entered the factory. His fine clothing and demeanor identified him instantly as the famous Monsieur Madeleine, mayor and owner of this factory. The man Javert was waiting for.

He watched him stop the fight. A few words of him were enough and the women stood straight, in a line, eyes cast down, respectfully. Just like it was supposed to be. Javert felt great respect for this man, only seeing this. In Toulon it had been just like that. And even though this was a factory and not a prison, the rules were still the same. Respect and authority. This man down there had both of it.

Javert watched, and then at last the mayor looked up, spotting him. He halted in his speech, realizing that he had a visitor. And something in his face seemed to change, to something Javert could not quite place. Surprise, sure. But there was something else too. Was he scared? Did he maybe think, Javert was here for a surprise inspection of his factory?

Now that was something new to him. Was what he saw there a typical nervous reaction, to something like that? Somehow it amused Javert to think his visit could have caused such a reaction. Respect indeed. Even from the mayor. It was appropriate. And he would correct this misconception as soon as the man was up here, so it was all right to enjoy the feeling for a moment.

Yes, he could already tell from this little glance that he´d shared with the man, that the two of them would work well together. He expected him up in the office the very next moment, but it seemed the mayor got delayed by something yet again. It took him almost five whole minutes to finally arrive. Again there was shouting from below. One of those women cried for Monsieur Le Maire, as if it was about her pity little life. And then it was quiet again. Javert felt irritated, just for a moment.

And then at last, the mayor entered.

"Welcome." he greeted, with a polite smile. "Inspector."

Javert had to keep calm. This was the moment. First impressions could never be repeated and he wanted to make a professional impression, not that of an overly excited rookie. He performed the obligatory bow, and silently handed over his letter, the one that stated his new position here in town.

That should be just about the right amount of respectful behavior. Not too much, not too less.

"Monsieur le Maire. Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name´s Javert, just transferred here from Toulon. I´ll be your new inspector." The gaze he received was strange but he went on, hiding his uncertainty. "Know me as your man for everything that requires the strong arm of the law in this town. Be assured, Monsieur, I will serve you well."

The mayor smiled, dutifully, and something about it unsettled Javert.

"Welcome, sir." he repeated his greeting, a little warmer now. But then he turned away from him, as if the other side of the room was more interesting. Or comforting? Was Madeleine nervous? He?

"It´s good to know I get good men like you, to guard our laws. I´m sure we´ll work well together on this behalf."

"I heard a lot of good things about you." Javert felt encouraged by those words. "A success like yours is rare these days. Because of you this city flourishes. Even higher people in Paris praise what you did."

The mayor glanced at him, over his shoulder, as if startled out of a thought, and for a moment Javert was overcome by a strange feeling. This Dejavu again, that he had had before. What was it? His reaction to the new town?

But there was something more to it. It was stronger now, not this slight lightheaded feeling from before. This was more … heavy. As if something about this man, not the place, was familiar.

Madeleine picket up something, still barely making eye contact. But when he leaned in, to hand him something, his smile made Javert hold out his hand, instinctively.

"We survive because we work with dignity, inspector." the gesture was enough to make everyone feel welcome and when Javert looked down on his hand, it was a little rosary Madeleine had given him. How fitting.

Yes, something just told him, that this was a good place. He and this mayor would indeed work well together. Maybe fate was generous to him this time. By sending him to this place where, other than in Toulon, he´d be respected by someone he felt instantly connected with. A man he would be able to trust in time. Yes, he could feel that, with great certainty. Monsieur Madeleine was good, righteous, just like him. And in time this feeling of Dejavu, this feeling of: "I know this somehow" would be a real one, not illusion, caused by exhaustion and excitement.

But was it really only that? Illusion? Javert knew the feeling of Dejavu. It came sometimes and usually it didn´t mean anything. But here … it was so strong. And this man. Something seemed so awfully familiar about him. This faint smell Javert had noticed before, he suddenly noticed that it had increased, since the mayor had entered. What was it? A special aftershave? But usually those things smelled more intense. No, that couldn´t be it. All of Javert´s senses seemed to tell him, that he knew this man, longer than just a few minutes.

"I hope you forgive me, sir." he dared to address this. "But it seems to me, we might know each other from before. Did we meet?"

But obviously that had been overstepping a line. The mayor´s friendly smile was gone, replaced by an almost blank expression. As if Javert had just insulted him.

"I surely wouldn´t have forgotten a face like yours, inspector."

Javert didn´t know why those words stung so much. From one moment to the other, this feeling of a possible good partnership was gone, wiped out, just by a simple comment. Or maybe by the gaze he had received? Something in the mayor´s eyes was hard now. Not as warm as it had been at the beginning.

The beginning. Javert almost laughed about himself. What beginning? He was here for maybe two minutes, had barely just met the man. How could he even think in terms like that? As if they had a history already. But strange as it was, that was how it felt. As if there had been something between them, that had built for years, and that now suddenly had gotten cracked. By something as stupid as a wrong comment.

Was he mad? This was ridiculous. This man was his superior. Not his friend. He would never be. Had he forgotten who he was? Just hoping to be equal with this man was an impertinence. And that had probably been the reason for the mayor´s reaction.

Javert lowered his gaze. Madeleine was right. He should know his place, and not fantasize about equality to his superior. That was just insubordinate. If any of his men would have tried that with him, he would have rebuked them even harder. Regarded from that perspective, the mayor had been quite polite with him, Javert.

He was about to speak, to apologize, when from outside there was noise. The mayor flinched, alarmed, and hurried out. Javert just followed, dutifully, to the back. Apparently there´d been an accident. A cart lay there, deformed and broken, probably veered because of the slippery mud. Javert took a moment to notice that it had stopped raining, and was glad for that. And already the next second, his attention was diverted, to the scene before him.

It all happened so fast he barely had the time to take in the details. A man, trapped under this cart, threatened to get crushed by it. People standing about, helpless and unable to move the heavy thing. And Javert already saw before his inner eyes, how the women would start shaking their heads in shock, a few minutes from now, about the gruesome death they´d had to witness. Without a hoist, it was pretty easy to predict this outcome. And then the mayor intervened. As if it already was a thing between them, that no matter what the situation, Javert would never be able to guess what he´d do next.

But this one thing was indeed extraordinary. When he picked up the beam of that cart, and pushed, Javert was frozen to the ground. The cart, so unmovable before started groaning, like a wounded animal, and slowly, very slowly it rose, just long enough to drag the man to safety.

For a moment Javert was speechless. He expected Madeleine to break down, in pain. Because he surely must have broken his back. Or at least strained it, way too much. But he didn´t. He didn´t.

This was impossible. Simply impossible. Something inside Javert was screaming, howling for him to wake up, and see what was there right in front of him. But this one thing just couldn´t be. He hadn´t heard of him in years. Had long believed him to be dead. Or gone from France altogether. This could not be the same man. It couldn´t be.

And yet, Javert just knew. He knew. And all the sudden, this feeling from before, this Dejavu, made sense to him. Of course. How had he missed that until now? How could he not have recognized him? He himself had made him lift this mast, the day he had released him on parole.

But no, his reasonable mind cried out. Don´t be a fool. This man is mayor, a respected businessman. Not an escaped criminal. Wake up, and stop to fall for deceiving intuitions. You must be starved too much, you need to drink, and you need to do it soon. Your brain is dried out, and you see ghosts of the past where there isn´t even a shadow.

The mayor looked up at him now, as if waiting for him to say something. There was something in his eyes. Something. Hesitant fear. And once again Javert felt his blood stir at the mere thought. Was it possible? This gaze. It was just as sassy as he remembered it from … eight years ago.

"This was … impressive." he heard himself say. "I never believed anyone could ever lift a weight like that."

The mayor didn´t say anything. He just waited. Carefully. Javert composed himself, called himself to order. Be reasonable. This is ridiculous.

And yet … this inner voice of his. It just wouldn´t stop screaming.

Valjean!

"I only ever saw one man …" he started, not able to stop himself. "Who was capable of something like that. A prisoner, from many years ago. He broke his parole and disappeared."

For a moment it was quiet in this alley, as if everyone around was holding their breath. Javert felt all their eyes on him. And the mayor.

"Don´t stop now." Madeleine demanded, dared. "What is it you mean to say?"

And at this confrontation, Javert just couldn´t go any further. His senses were still screaming. It was this part of him that spoke from a depth he usually would only despise and deny with all his heart, for it came from that unholy half of his soul. Senses so dark and so intense, he knew how to identify them. And right in this moment, he convinced himself that he was only feeling this, because his last time drinking was so long ago. What he felt now, was nothing but the effect´s of his body´s craving. The thirst was getting to his brain. It just had to be like this. This instinct that was stirring him, was a deception, nothing more. He mustn´t fall for that.

"Please, forgive me, sir." he apologized, with a respectful bow. "I didn´t mean anything with it. It was just a memory speaking. Nothing more."

And when he met the mayor´s gaze again, it was Javert who was afraid.

"If you´ll excuse me now." he said, and saw that he got out of there. Before his blood could start to boil, demanding other needs to be saturated. Oh God, he needed blood, and soon.

...

This night he went to the stables. The police horses were noble and strong. Their hearts were fiery and beating with temperament. Yet when Javert gently caressed the neck of his stallion, the wakeful eyes of the animal fell shut, again and again, as the calm took over. The mind of the horse got sleepy, calmer and more trusting. More than a horse would ever trust a man it had never known before.

Javert had liked the horse, right from the start. It was a good horse. Reliable and with a strong character. And now that he stood here, making it hold still, to serve him yet again, not as a mount but for something else entirely, he felt that he would have a good horse in this one for these coming years.

"Shhhhh." he made. "It´s all right. Everything is fine."

The horse took a deep breath. Javert could feel the air running through it´s throat, in the palm of his hand. And at this feeling he closed his eyes, listening even deeper. The blood was running warm and full of life, just underneath. Right here in front of him.

His mouth started to water, his lips opening, rising all on their own. His heart was beating faster, in anticipation. Yes, he needed this. Wanted this. Oh God, and how he hated it to want this so much.

But unfortunately this was a choice that had never been his. For this beast that lived inside him, was the only thing that kept him alive. It fed him, gave him strength, when after weeks and months of abstinence, the thirst would get too much at last, and all his body would crave for to keep living, was this liquid that he needed. This craving would take down all conscious thoughts or moral thinking, even the disgust he clung to oh so desperately.

He had control over it, for very long. Longer than most others, once again thanks to his other half. His mother´s human blood. But not forever. His father´s unholy heritage would not allow it. If he´d starve himself from it for good, he would die. Just like a beggar in the streets, his body drained from what it needed, really needed to survive. As much as he despised it, he had no choice. He needed it, to live another day.

When he reached this point he had to drink. And oh, this longing just before he drank, this desire for the thick red liquid, in his mouth, his throat, his veins …

He went down, to his knees, his hand caressing the leg of the horse, gently, possessively, all at once, until he reached the ankle. He despised the idea of hair on his tongue, so he took his time to shave the part, carefully. On the inside of the leg, to lower the risk of someone noticing it and asking questions. The horse remained calm, breathing deeply in it´s sleep, until Javert was done. The vein lay free, or at least as free as possible. Just seeing it, made Javert´s head spin in need. The shaving always took too long. And now his craving was the stronger call. Thoughts of discovery or care were gone, and all Javert could think of, was the blood. He bared his teeth, his fangs much longer now than usual, and bit, right into the ankle of the horse.

There was no flinch at all. The animal was sleeping. Javert´s teeth went in, easily after the first resistance of the strong skin, and then the blood came running, thick and warm and sweet and oh so full of energy. It filled his mouth, his throat, his stomach. Soon his head became so light, he seemed to float. As if his body was renewing all its cells, and for a while this feeling was replacing everything. Nothing else mattered anymore, only this. To take this in, with everything he was. To be at one with himself, even this other half of him that he usually tried to suppress with everything he had. In those moments, when he had no choice but to give in, he felt a wholeness that he never knew at any other time of his existence. As if he was complete, not half and loathsome. As if he could be totally free. With no shame or regret, about anything. It was flooding through him, and he felt how right it was, how much he needed this. To live, to be what he was meant to be.

But all this went away, as soon as he would wake the next day. When he was thinking clearly once again, and saw how sick this pleasure was, that he´d been feeling when he drank. He lived by drinking blood, for cry out loud. The blood of animals. Horses, a cow on one very desperate occasion. And if he wouldn´t be so disciplined, he´d drink from humans, like some others did. He would be killing so that he could live. How could he even think of feeling good, while doing this? It was a sickness, nothing more.

But he lived because he fed this sickness. And this time, when he woke the next morning, he felt as if he was reborn. As if the man Javert had been before, the guard he´d been in Toulon, had died the night before, and the inspector had been born. Maybe that wasn´t even all that wrong.

The only thing he wasn´t sure of, was if the memories from all those years ago, had died along with him. Or if they stayed, and would keep haunting him. Somehow he felt that he would find out very soon.

To everyone who read this far: I´m not sure if I should say Sorry or You´re Welcome. Guess it depends on what you expect from a story. Maybe I should spare to say anything at all. But I´d really like to know what YOU think.

If you don´t despise the idea of Javert being a (half)vampire, I´d be happy to see you stick around. This is only the beginning.

And thanks for reading.