The guards took an instant liking to Javert. He was not friendly, he was not warm, and most of them did not even know his surname. I still did not know his name. In six months only four of the men had had anything resembling a conversation with him. All they knew was that the new kid volunteered to patrol the prison's corridors at night on almost a regular basis. He kept watch dutifully and they had nothing to worry about as long as his keen eye kept watch. As all of the guards despised night patrolling between the cells in Toulon the young man became a fast favorite. It was not long before he claimed both halves of the night shift every night, leaving him unoccupied during the day. However, no one ever saw him during the light hours. He would attend dinner and breakfast, and not speak with any of the men around him unless it was to convey or seek some bit of information pertinent to our work. He knew everyone's names. How he had come to do so was not clear, as he had never introduced himself and very few of the actual guards had attempted to introduce themselves to him. He was too frigid to inspire that type of reaction. I was the closest person to him in Toulon and over the course of his first six or seven months I had spoken with him no more than a dozen times.
The only thing that denoted our closeness (and it is a stretch to even call it that) were small changes in his manner. When he was certain that we were alone he smiled tiny smiles. He had a strange habit of resting his forefinger against the sloping side of his nose so that his fingertip rested between his eyes. His long straight hair bore a single curl, in the front, which he would also twist like a schoolgirl at odd moments, when he had forgotten himself. These instances were rare but endearing. I felt a sense of pride in knowing that, as far as I could tell, I was the only living being alive aware of his sense of humor. He also, like any young man who could get his hands on a decent amount of food, ate with an abandon he showed during no other activity.
If it were not for the gusto with which he ate we all might have thought him some sort of otherwordly creature separate from us. The romantic in me could not help but paint him as some sort of vampiric menace or silent guardian built from the same stone as Toulon herself. Depending on my mood he suited both and I silently had applied manifold other roles and titles to him. I had often wondered what he thought about, as no man's thoughts are comprised solely of his duties, regardless of how hard he tries. I wondered why he was trying so hard. What had happened to him?
The inmates and the prison itself had sent the rest of the boys he had come with running early on. None had lasted more than two weeks. One, the mousy boy from Avignon, had nearly been killed by a prisoner. This is when all of the others had started to leave. Javert had not been very much affected by this and when the other boys left he noted their absence even less. As far as I could tell he had never made an effort to speak with them. It was several days after the Avignon boy's near-death and the first departures that Javert had first applied for the night watch. He claimed merely that "If he was too weak for it, it would kill him and he would deserve it." He always spoke of who deserved what as if he alone was the touchstone of exact equity. His power was derived from this conviction that he invariably knew what punishments or desserts all men had merited. Although, how he thought that he could possibly deserve death was beyond me. I have never looked at a man and earnestly believed that he deserved to die, regardless of his mistakes. The boy beside me seemed almost infallible and somewhat charming despite himself, if very distant.
Even during the day the inmates were a fearsome bunch. By night their proximity caused me anxiety as they had chewed up and spit out guard after guard like a lumbering dog gnawing his way through unfortunate toy after toy for years. Why they had not yet attempted to antagonize the young man I had no idea. None of the guards did. It was one of the many mysteries which surrounded Javert. I am certain that they tried and he quickly put them in their place. Javert has the unique abilty to make almost anyone feel as if their place is beneath him.
"Desjardins," He said to me one night during dinner, without preamble. Everyone else was tired from a long day's work but he had just awakened. So had I. My distaste for the night watch was nothing compared to my desire to be in his presence. Every other guard was practically sagging in a giant puddle about the table's long benches. Javert sat upright, his eyes sharp. He was ready and eager for the night's vigil. I attempted to mirror his staunch determination but I doubt he noticed. At the time, however, I imagined him to be incredibly impressed with me. I was thrilled that he was going to speak with me and positively dying to know exactly what he had to say. His voice held a certain quality of command. A thrill shot through me as his muscled outer thigh pressed against mine; there were too many men on the bench.
"How was 23091's behavior today?" He asked without looking at me and I felt slightly annoyed that this was all he wanted to know, even though I should not have been surprised. I searched my mind for which prisoner he might have been referring to as I moved my spoon haphazardly through my stew. As much as I tried I could not recall. All of the long numbers and gaunt faces were so similar. Javert's almost encyclopedic knowledge of Toulon extended to the prisoners as well. He knew every last one by face, number, and transgression. I sometimes wondered if he had their criminal records memorized.
"Common imbecile. Enjoys butchering the new meat, not that they don't deserve it. Gagnon has informed me that we have a new tenant."
If I was supposed to enjoy his dry humor he did not give me the opportunity to laugh. He merely continued on. His description rang a bell, however it had not occurred to me that all of the assaults done on the newly incarcerated were perpetrated by the same prisoner. All of the prisoners of Toulon were a single collective mass to me; a many-headed monster housed in separate unwieldy bodies and connected by a length of chain. Unless they were an immediate threat to myself or others I did not consider them at all. Many had been there longer than me and it seemed to me the most natural thing in the world that they would be there making a nuisance of themselves.
"If he has been quiet all day we should expect some trouble, but not for two weeks at least." He said with a small reassuring smile. One of his hands squeezed my shoulder and my heart skipped a beat. He cocked his head to the side, obviously finding something interesting in my expression. I was momentarily fearful. While not excessively stupid, I am almost incapable of deception. My emotions have always been plainly visible on my face regardless of any effort I make to conceal them. His hazel eyes bore into mine "Begin steeling yourself tonight." He spoke matter-of-factly before rising from the table and walking quickly out of the dining hall. I wondered if he was aware of my attachment to him. He was far too intelligent not to have been. At the time I did not want to think that such things were inconsequential to him.
There was still an hour before our shift began and I wondered what precisely he would do with that hour, as it seemed he lived for little else but work. I wondered if he really memorized files in his spare time. I resisted the urge to follow him.
xblackstonex: Thanks so much!
AmZ: As this goes on, I hope you find my Javert less and less inhumanly constant. I'm totally trying to avoid a one-dimensional Javert. There's more than enough depictions of one-dimensional Javert to go around.
An: Paper Gangsta by Lady Gaga is the best song ever.
