My thanks to Nurzubesuch who beta-read the story. All errors remaining are mine.

Chapter II

It didn't take so long for the two of them to arrive at Madeleine's home and Javert had to admit he was content about it. He may not have been as hungry now – though he was hardly satiated with only the slice of bread in his stomach – but he was tired as his sleep had been fitful the night before and had not allowed him to rest enough. As a man, he would have borne the fatigue stoically, without much problem. As a child, he felt his legs ready to give in under his little weight.

"Madame Antoinette," Madeleine called as he opened the door and ushered him inside.

An old woman appeared from deeper in the house and Javert assumed it was the housekeeper. Seeing her deference to Monsieur Madeleine, there was no doubt she was in his employ.

"Monsieur le Maire!" the woman exclaimed as soon as she noticed him with a child on his hand. "Who is this child?"

She sounded almost scandalized and Javert could imagine the picture he made: a street urchin in nothing but rags in the house of the mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer. However, Madeleine didn't seem to care about it and ignored the tone the woman, Antoinette, used.

"Madame, this is Etienne. He shall be my guest here, for the foreseeable future. Would you please have a bath readied and prepare a room for him to sleep in."

He was gentle, indeed, in the handling of his employee. However, the directness of the order left no doubt he expected to be obeyed without question. He would accept no less and Javert had to admit, he found himself impressed in spite of himself. he knew it was not always easy to be kind and authoritative at the same time. It was one of the reasons he never bothered with kindness himself, but for a house employee, it made things work more fluidly he supposed.

There was still one point that sat strangely with him. He had expected to have his injury tended to, even to be offered a bed for the night, but a bath?

"A bath, Monsieur?" he asked, the words out of his mouth before he even had time to think about it.

Madeleine looked at him and nodded decisively.

"If we're to clean that wound to avoid any possible infection, it would be better for you to take a bath first. I will get you a change of clothes in the meantime. It will avoid any contamination before the wound is covered."

The measure was absolutely unnecessary, Javert knew. With a bandage and a good cleaning of the area around the wound itself, no contamination would happen. It was, however, not something a six-year old child would be expected to know and he had no way of complaining about it to Madeleine. Besides, he had to admit, he would feel better once clean. It had taken him long enough to make his way out of the gutter, he didn't relish the thought of being back down there again.

Waiting for his instructions to be followed by Antoinette, Madeleine led Javert into the kitchen and sat him down at the table, before busying himself with fetching bread and cheese to give to the child to eat. Javert would have refused out of pride, but he was hungry and, thankfully, his role permitted him to take the opportunity to eat whenever it was presented to him. He didn't think to thank the man, as politely as any gamin would, before devouring the offering.

A few minutes later, Madame Antoinette appeared in the doorway, addressing Monsieur Madeleine, without appearing to notice his presence anymore, which Javert thought unsurprising.

"The bath is ready, Monsieur, as is the room," she said simply and was obviously waiting to be dismissed which, apparently, wouldn't be the case just yet.

"Thank you, Madame," the mayor answered before approaching her and dropping some money in her hand. "Will you do me one last favor and get some clothes for Etienne? I know it's outside your usually duty but it would help me a lot."

It was asked in such a way that the old woman could do nothing else but agree without question, a slight blush coloring her cheek and was on her way before they knew it.

"Come Etienne," Madeleine said. "You can finish eating later. For now, I will show you to the bath and leave you on your own for a little while. Just call me whenever you need me or when you're finished and we will see to your wounds. It seems to have more or less stopped bleeding for now."

Javert nodded and left the rest of the bread on the table, without sparing it a backward glance. A real street urchin would have taken it with him, no matter where he was going, on the off chance he wouldn't be able to get back to it later. It didn't even cross Javert's mind before he had already been led outside the kitchen and he didn't think it would do any good to go back. Madeleine would probably not notice the irregularity anyway.

He was led to the bathroom and wondered how things were going to proceed from there. Child or not, he didn't feel like getting undressed in front of the mayor and, even with his earlier reassuring words, he wasn't sure the man would trust him on his own. Thankfully, the man beat him to it before he had to think about a way around it.

"Will you be alright on your own?" Madeleine asked and Javert was almost insulted.

Madeleine really couldn't think that a six-year old child would be unable to take a bath without supervision, could he? Then again, he supposed the way he looked, one could think he´d never had the occasion before. Well, it didn't matter. He wasn't going to debate on it.

"Yes, M'sieur," he answered and couldn't really keep all of his annoyance from his voice.

He would have winced at his faux-pas hadn't Madeleine seemed more amused than anything else by this.

"I'll be downstairs so you can call if you need me for anything. I'll come back with clothes for you as soon as Madame Antoinette is back, alright?"

Javert nodded and let the man get out of the room before he began undressing, shedding his dirty rags with great pleasure, and immerging himself in the water. He couldn't keep from sighing in relief when he felt the warm water on his limbs. After the cold night he had spent curled on a deserted house's floor, his body was aching and the running around hadn't helped at all. Neither had the baker shaking him, he thought, looking down at his arm and seeing the angry impression of fingers left there.

He closed his eyes for a minute, enjoying the moment while he could, putting every thought of Madeleine or Valjean aside, out of his mind, for a while, intending to relax completely. He startled awake when he inhaled a mouthful of water and coughed it up, realizing he had been so tired he had fallen asleep in the bathwater.

Once he had managed to spit out all the water he had unwillingly swallowed, he calmed himself down and decided that, maybe, closing his eyes and relaxing may not have been the best idea unless he fancied the idea of drowning, which he most certainly didn't. However, he still had to clean himself up before he could get out and have a good look at his wound while he was at it. He winced, knowing Madeleine would have to disinfect it well to avoid any infection. It was going to hurt like hell.

He quickly put himself to work and accomplished his task rapidly, rubbing the bar of soap to his skin and rinsing abundantly with the bathwater. He took the opportunity to do the same to his hair, the night he had spent sleeping outside having left enough debris in them to feel uncomfortable. He finished quickly and once he was done, he realized that the water was beginning to cool down. If he couldn't get out any time soon, he would probably lose all the warmth he had gained.

Apparently, Monsieur Madeleine had the power to read his thought because he had barely finished thinking that, that the man was knocking on the door. Javert immersed himself fully in the bath before asking him in. The man deposited the clothing he had acquired on a nearby chair as well as a fluffy-looking towel and told Javert he would be waiting in the room he had his housekeeper prepare for him, with the medical supplies to treat his wound.

Javert nodded and, once the door closed behind Madeleine, he got out of the bath and quickly dried and put on the clothes, not bothering with the shirt just yet, knowing perfectly he would otherwise have to take it back off before the mayor could attend to his wound. Being six had at least the advantage to not make his trek into the house half-clothed an insult to decency.

The room was spare. There was a bed, neatly made, with clean sheets and a pillow, a little wooden table and a closet that seemed to be very small but still big enough for a few pieces of clothing. Javert hadn't really known what to except, but it had certainly been more than that. Madeleine had enough money to decorate his house far more than he did, he knew. Apparently, though, the mayor seemed intent on not using his money for anything else than charity, as if he thought he didn't need the luxury.

Madeleine was sitting on a chair.

"Etienne," he said when he saw him with his shirt still in hand. "Come and sit on the bed while I bandage that shoulder. Can you tell me who did this to you?"

Javert obeyed without a word and looked up. He didn't have to utter a lie to answer that question.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't remember. I... I don't remember much from the night before last – I think that's when it happened but it's like there is a hole in my memories."

Madeleine nodded and went about his business, cleaning the wound efficiently with what looked like alcohol and Javert bit his lips not to cry out. Ashamedly, he felt the sting of tears burn his eyes, not understanding why, as such low pain as this would not usually be enough to make him cry. He had to fight to not let them fall though, today, and he prayed it would be over soon.

Finally, he felt Madeleine apply the bandage on his shoulder and he let out a shuddering breath. A few seconds later, the mayor's hand fell away from his shoulder and he realized the ordeal was finally completely over. He looked up and saw Madeleine with a small smile on his lips.

"You were very brave Etienne," the man congratulated him and Javert felt like scoffing. "It must have hurt very much."

As he finished talking, he brushed a few stray locks of hair that had fallen on his forehead and the gesture had been to unexpected, so totally out of the blue, that it was already over before Javert had the time to react.

"Would you like to go back to the kitchen and finish eating," the mayor asked as he got up. "Or would you prefer to go to sleep for a while first?"

Javert guessed he must not have hidden his exhaustion as well as he had first thought and he had to admit that he could feel the appeal of sleeping for a while now that he was actually sitting on a bed. He didn't think he had the courage to get up and go downstairs just to come back up again later. He still had to know something first.

"I don't know how to pay you," Javert said and he saw Madeleine almost sigh, as if the question irritated him.

"As I told you before, you don't have to pay me for anything but, if you really want to do me a favor, there is something you can do for me," Madeleine began and Javert almost felt a smirk creep on his face, thinking that he would finally have something on the mayor.

What would this man ask of a street child? Would he ask him to steal, to spy on the police maybe as it was not that uncommon for a criminal to use gamins for tasks such as this, as they could go by unnoticed with much more ease?

"Yes?" Javert asked with anticipation.

"Promise me you will never steal again," Madeleine said and Javert had almost answered immediately that he would do it, not bothering to register what was said before it caught up to him.

He was left speechless.

He couldn't have heard that right, could he? Because if the man was really who he suspected him to be, if that man was actually Jean Valjean, he couldn't have asked the child he had taken in to promise him that. That would be absolutely unthinkable. However he wasn't deaf and he knew he had heard right.

"What?" was the answer which passed his lips before he had time to actually think about it.

"Don't steal again. If you're hungry, I do understand. Really, I do. But stealing... you'll throw your life away. You're so young. There're so many possibilities for you but not if the police catches you and throws you in jail. There won't be anything left for you if you do that."

That was almost as good as a confession for Javert. It spoke volumes that the man knew how many consequences there could be and the tone he used, that wistful, melancholic tone, told Javert that it wasn't something abstract, something he had heard talked about, but personal experience.

However, the discourse he held made Javert pause. It was the very last thing he would have expected from the man he thought was Jean Valjean. He just nodded in answer, to say yes, he understood – mostly because he could see Madeleine was expecting an answer – but it was mechanical and he didn't know if the man in front of him could tell.

"You're lucky my inspector wasn't there this afternoon," Madeleine continued, unaware of Javert's inner turmoil regarding his previous statement and the startle that accompanied this one. "I'm not sure I would have been able to convince him not to arrest you."

He hadn't expected Madeleine to speak of him, or to use such a possessive adjective to talk about him, but he couldn't help wanting to hear more, couldn't help his curiosity about what the man really thought of him. If Madeleine was Jean Valjean, he must have a lot to say about him and it could very well help him decide if he was right or wrong.

"Your inspector?" Javert prompted, adopting an expression of innocent inquiry.

"You're new in Montreuil, aren't you?" Madeleine remarked, amused by his little guest.

Javert realized that this was probably the one and only plausible explanation for the fact that he didn't know... himself. After all, he had somewhat of a reputation.

"Inspector Javert. He's extremely strict in his upholding of the law but he's a good man... a just man. I just wish that, sometimes, he knew how to temper his judgment with mercy. But I know it's simply not his way."

There was nothing Javert could say to that description, even if he was in a position to do so. It was an apt one, though he wasn't sure about being called a good man by someone he suspected of being a convict in disguise. It seemed strange, somehow, but it did put some doubt in his mind about his suspicion, as did the way Madeleine talked of him, as if he was... worried. Could it be true?

"Why are you worried?" Javert asked, his curiosity taking over.

He berated himself internally, not certain if it would feel natural for the child he was pretending to be, to be so perceptive about Madeleine's state of mind.

Javert had gotten used to observe the man for so long, so closely, that he was able to read any passing emotion of his face, unless he concealed himself especially from him – as he did most of the time. However, for any passerby, he wasn't sure it would be the case.

Madeleine lifted his eyebrow, surprised by the insight the child was showing.

"I guess you've got to know how to read people when you're out on the street," he stated, somewhat sadly that such ability would be required and Javert was relieved about the explanation given to him by his own quarry.

"You don't want to go to the wrong person," Javert explained briefly. "I learnt quickly to see what people felt at any time! It's easier to avoid trouble that way!" he continued, as if bragging about his accomplishment and he saw the barest hint of a smile on Madeleine's face.

At least, he had succeeded in keeping the man from being suspicious, even if he hadn't had his explanation just yet but he didn't relent and kept staring at Madeleine, as if urging him to tell him why.

"You're not going to let that go?" the mayor asked, rhetorically, before sighing. "I'm probably worried for nothing but the inspector seems to have completely vanished without a trace and I can't help feeling something's wrong. Usually if one of his investigations keeps him from being able to meet me at the convened time, he makes sure to tell me first. I admit I would feel better knowing he was safe."

Javert nodded because that was what a child would do faced with such an explanation. A child wouldn't know what to say, except maybe some platitude but he knew that urchins were far too jaded to fall for this kind of reassuring nonsense coddled children liked so much. For his part, he wouldn't know what to say even if he was still an adult.

Was it really possible that the mayor was worried about his absence? The man was right that Javert would never leave his post and fail in his responsibility to meet with Madeleine without telling him why. It was simply something he couldn't abide by. However, he would never have dreamed that the man would feel anything but relief about his absence, considering that he seemed to have realized that Javert was watching him like a hawk, especially since the incident with old Fauchelevent and his cart.

"But that's enough," Madeleine interrupted the conversation and his tone left room for no discussion, even if Javert had been so inclined, which to be fair, he was not. "Go to bed and sleep, alright. We will take the days as they come."

With that, Madeleine opened the covers to allow Javert to crawl in. He hadn't been tucked in since... since never, he supposed. That was a new one for him, one thing he had never expected to happen in a million years but, as he cuddled into the sheets and Madeleine put the covers around him, making sure he was entirely surrounded, he couldn't help feeling he had missed out on something during his childhood. That was the last thought that crossed his mind as his exhaustion caught up with him and he was asleep before he even heard Madeleine's whispered 'Goodnight'.

Javert came back to consciousness gradually. It was a change from his last wakeup call. He was warm, the mattress under him was soft and there was a blessed silence all around him. He stayed quiet and still for a few moments, listening intently around to hear whether or not anyone was already awake in the house. After a while, he assumed that the answer was no.

It was still dark outside but, considering the fact that they were already well into autumn, it didn't mean all that much. However, knowing he had gone to bed in the afternoon and not at night, he assumed it was now extremely early in the morning. He had never slept too long normally and he figured that the only employee Monsieur Madeleine seemed to keep around in his house was probably at her own home, not having come to work just yet.

That was a good thing. It meant that, if he was careful enough not to make any noise, he could probably investigate a bit in the house while Madeleine was still asleep. Javert threw the covers away from him and carefully put his feet on the floor, wincing at the coldness. He couldn't put on his shoes, first because he had no idea where Madeleine had left them – probably in the entrance hall – and, anyway, it would make too much noise should he have them on his feet.

He couldn't afford to get caught, though he supposed with the way Madeleine seemed to have taken to him, he would probably be able to invent a story that could explain his snooping around without giving the man a reason to actually throw him out. The mayor was almost too naive about the inherent goodness of people, as he had demonstrated yet again by asking Javert not to steal anymore the night before.

Madeleine had believed him immediately when he had said he understood and assumed he had stopped a child from ever doing something like that again. Yes, Javert was never going to steal anything again but, had the man been faced with a real gamin, the promise would have meant nothing at all. Madeleine would still have taken it for granted.

Javert padded out of the room, his ears opened wide and straining to hear any possible noise that would suggest the man waking up. For the moment, there was none but he couldn't afford to be caught unaware. He passed what seemed to be Madeleine's room and, while he knew there would probably be some interesting things to be seen in there, he wasn't going to risk it just yet. Maybe if he wasn't able to find anything else, he would try but, for now, he would keep it as a last resort and try the rest of the house first.

There was nothing much to see upstairs, except for the bathroom he had seen the day before – and where there was absolutely nothing of importance – and a small closet that he opened to see what had to be the cleaning supplies. No, he would have to go downstairs if he was hoping to find anything worth the trouble.

Climbing down the stairs as silently as possible, guiding himself with his hand as the obscurity was almost blinding, his mind was reeling about what he was going to find. He had already seen the kitchen and there was nothing worth of notice. His gaze, however, was attracted by a small, adjacent room and his instincts instantly screamed at him that he was looking in the right direction.

He was surprised to find the door unlocked but, then again, the man was almost reckless in his openness. He had to admit it was a good way to pretend he had nothing to hide. He entered the room noiselessly and stayed still for a while, looking at large, letting his eyes get used to the lack of light until he was able to discern the shapes of the objects surrounding him.

He could see a desk, proving that this had to be a study. He would have given up finding anything useful and left the room when the clouds outside parted to give way to the light of the moon. There, in the darkness, the moonlight seemed to reflect on every surface that wasn't made of wood: the mirror, the writing equipment on the desk and, most importantly, a pair of silver candlesticks.

Javert's breath caught in his throat. There was what could almost be a certain proof. The candlestick, gifted – or so it was said – by the Bishop of Digne to Jean Valjean after some people caught the thief red-handed, fleeing in the night after trying to steal from the holy man.

Of course, no report of this was made as the Bishop had claimed to have offered them to his friend, who had dined with him the night before, along with these very candlesticks and there was no one who would dare accuse Monseigneur Bienvenu of lying. However, the rumor was something that couldn't be quenched, stopped, and Javert knew better than to ignore it completely, even with the lack of evidence concerning a theft.

Of course, it wouldn't be enough of a proof just yet. After all, it could all be some sort of horrible coincidence. Maybe the candlesticks got into Monsieur Madeleine's hands after the thief had sold them to make money? Javert didn't believe it for one single second but he knew that he had to play the Devil's advocate because it was what anyone at the Prefecture would do before daring to accuse a man such as Monsieur Madeleine, the mayor of the town, of being a convict on the run after breaking his parole.

Of course, now, any doubt he may have had in the past had vanished from his mind completely. He knew he still had to find sufficient proof to accuse the man, but he could at least rest easy, knowing he wasn't making the mistake of stalking an innocent man.