Chapter Three
Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.
Valjean blinked as something caught his attention. "Is this a runaway cart?"
It was. And it had attracted everyone's attention as a large crowd had come to gather around where the cart had finally stopped.
"Monsieur Fauchelevant has been trapped!" someone cried out.
"Help please," Fauchelevant requested, his voice muffled from being trapped under the cart.
Valjean promptly took off his jacket and handed it to someone to hold. "Now, who will help me move the cart?"
"If you so much as touch it, it will collapse and kill you, too!" someone cried out.
Valjean inspected the cart critically. "No, no. I've worked with heavy objects before and I know what is and is not stable. I'm not saying that nothing will make this collapse, of course, but merely touching it won't. Now, any volunteers?"
There was a sudden silence.
"I don't want to die!" someone whimpered.
Valjean sighed. "I guess not." By himself, he lifted the cart from Fauchelevant and allowed the old man to climb out.
"Well now I feel just silly for not helping," one of the townspeople said, abashed. "There probably would have been a reward in it for me, too."
Hearing this and wishing to inspire more helpful behavior in the future, Valjean nodded. "There really would have been and it would have been quite handsome."
Suddenly he was tackled by Fauchelevant who appeared to be trying to hug him. "Thank you so much! You're a saint! I regret everything bad I ever thought about you for being an uppity nobody who made good while the rest of us had to work for a living!"
"I…wasn't actually aware that you thought anything like that," Valjean said uncomfortably, trying to pry the old man off of him.
"Well I did," Fauchelevant confirmed, evidently unable to take a hint.
"Well, um, I forgive you, I suppose," Valjean said awkwardly.
Javert was watching him suspiciously.
Sighing, when he finally managed to dislodge Fauchelevant, Valjean made his way over to the Inspector. "What?"
"You know, it's just strange. I've only seen a man that strong once in my life and he was quite a bit younger than you. He'd be about your age now, I suppose," Javert said thoughtfully.
"Why are you telling me this?" Valjean wondered.
"No reason," Javert lied. "It's just that he was a convict who broke parole quite a few years ago."
"And just what do I have to do with this Jean Valjean?" Valjean demanded.
"Nothing, nothing," Javert hastened to say. "Only that I think that you might possibly be him."
"Nonsense!" barked Valjean.
"Well, I never actually said his name," Javert pointed out.
"Yes you did," Valjean insisted.
"I really didn't. I know I didn't because that was a test," Javert explained. "And you didn't pass it."
"Well I don't see how I could know it if you didn't say it," Valjean said reasonably.
Javert's eye started twitching. "You could be Valjean."
"That is one possibility but I don't like that one," Valjean replied. "You must have at least been thinking it very loudly."
Javert stared at him. "Is that seriously what you're going to go with?"
Valjean nodded. "You know what, I think that I am."
Javert looked like he dearly wanted to say something but then, with difficultly, let it go. "I suppose you really can't be him."
"I can't?" Valjean asked, surprised. He coughed. "I mean, of course I can't. Perish the thought. So why can't I again?"
"It just so happens that the real Jean Valjean was recently arrested and he's coming to court this very day," Javert explained.
"That's impossible," Valjean protested.
"I assure you, it's quite true," Javert told him. "He denies it, of course, but what would you expect from a guilty man?" He paused. "Or an innocent one, for that matter, but at any rate his denial doesn't automatically clear him."
"Why hadn't I heard of this earlier?" Valjean wondered.
"I don't know, monsieur. I heard all about it," Javert replied. "I mean, I wasn't sure at first but they look extremely alike. Well, if you ignore the fact that the Valjean I knew wasn't a halfwit and this one appears to have suffered some form of brain damage. Or maybe he's just pretending. Who knows?"
Valjean, not wanting some innocent to suffer for the high crime of looking like him but not wanting to go back to prison either, cast his mind for some sort of objection. "Well, what of his brand? If he has the number '24601' on his chest then he is your man and if he does not then he is not."
"You seem to know an awful lot about this," Javert said mistrustfully.
Valjean coughed. "So, well, does he?"
"I am not sure," admitted Javert. "That was actually my first thought, too, but the magistrate is convinced that we can do the trial without 'cheating.' And I must confess that with the evidence so strong I am inclined to agree."
"Cheating?" Valjean couldn't believe it. "Are you serious?"
Javert shrugged. "He always was an odd one."
"What sort of evidence is there?" Valjean asked, curiously. "I mean, it can't just be that they look alike because Valjean never looked distinctive."
"Well, aside from looking almost identical, they are both the same age and tree pruners from Faverolles," Javert listed off. "And then there's the name!"
"He's going by Jean Valjean?" Valjean asked incredulously. He wasn't sure that he wanted to save someone that stupid; they'd probably just go impersonating another ex-convict and end up in the galleys soon enough.
Javert shook his head. "Not exactly but he might as well have. He's going by Champmathieu, you see."
"I'm...afraid that I do not see at all," Valjean admitted.
"Well, his mother's last name was Mathieu and since Valjean broke his parole, what would be more natural than going by his mother's name and becoming Jean Mathieu?" Javert asked rhetorically. "And with different dialects you can easily see how that could become Chan Mathieu and, finally, Champmathieu."
"I really don't see it at all," Valjean repeated. "But using the mother's name! Oh, that is brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?"
"I feel like I should ask but I know that the answer you give will just serve to frustrate me more and make me wonder if it's possible that Jean Valjean was somehow duplicated so there are two of you running around," Javert remarked.
"I realize that you might not be the best person to ask but you're the only person here right now," Valjean told him. "Is it better and less selfish to denounce myself as a convinct to save a man actually guilty of theft but not guilty of being me or to let him rot in the galleys but be able to sustain this town since without me everything would just collapse and hundreds of people would be out of work and Cosette will probably die on the streets?"
"I cannot say which is 'better'," Javert replied. "From a utilitarian perspective, saving hundreds of people at the cost of one already guilty man is the clear choice. From the legal standpoint, you would have to turn yourself in and to do anything else would be unconscionable. I believe what I would choose is clear."
"It is, thank you. Can you leave me, please?" Valjean requested. "I have to go angst for awhile about whether or not to tell everyone that I'm actually Jean Valjean even though I really don't want to because being free is wonderful and being a wealthy mayor is pretty nice as well."
Javert inclined his head respectfully. "Certainly. And you should think of firing me, too, since I thought you were a convict."
Valjean had a funny expression on his face. "We'll…talk about it later."
Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to just tell everyone (including Javert who would not be stunned into inaction for long) that he was actually Jean Valjean and was going to the hospital if anyone wanted to find him but, well, that's what happened. It was just that he had just been so frustrated by everyone's strange refusal to just see that poor man's lack of a brand (or at least lack of his brand). And they didn't even look anything alike! This person who was supposed to be him was at least two feet shorter than him and black!
But now everyone knew the truth so he'd have to go on the run. It was a good thing he'd started preparing to leave at a moment's notice the moment Javert had first come to town. Now to just settle things somehow with Fantine.
"I had best not tell her why I'm leaving," Valjean reasoned as he approached her room. For once, gossip did not travel faster than light as he didn't have to face any stares or whispers upon his return from court. He cherished that even as he hurried along because God knew that it wouldn't last. "The shock very well might literally kill her. Or maybe I'm just being melodramatic…"
He knocked on her door. "Fantine, I have some bad news. You see, I…" He trailed off. Fantine had definitely taken a turn for the worse since that morning. She looked rather feverish. He had seen enough of death in prison to know that she wouldn't be long for the world. But would he have enough time to wait at her bedside before she died? It seemed cruel to wish someone to die faster so as not to inconvenience him but, on the other hand, if she took too long dying then Javert would come and drag him away anyway. And since the only reason Fantine was not in jail was because of him, Javert would probably throw her corpse in prison, too.
"Cosette, it's really cold," Fantine murmured.
Cosette? Was that the child? Did she think she was here?
"I'm sure she's fine, Fantine," Valjean said, trying to be reassuring.
"I'm going to die and she's cold and what's going to happen to her now? She's already always dying," Fantine said desperately.
"Don't worry," Valjean said soothingly.
Fantine's cough sounded a little bit judgmental. "You just heard a litany of my problems and did I mention I'm dying? How can I not worry?"
"Well, I'm going to take Cosette and raise her and things will be fine," Valjean said brightly.
"Do you have any experience with children?" Fantine demanded.
"Not since I was arrested thirty years ago although at least there were seven children then," Valjean replied unthinkingly.
Fantine started. "Wha-"
"I've also got a lot of money and want to help so that should make it easier," Valjean said quickly.
"Well…okay," Fantine agreed reluctantly. "You still have that letter I gave you to release her into the care of the bearer?"
Valjean nodded. "Of course."
"Tell Cosette I love her," Fantine said simply.
Then, even though he knew very well how unwise it was, Valjean waited with her until the end.
Javert had excellent timing for, right when Valjean was about to leave, he arrived to take Valjean into custody.
"Thank goodness you did not arrive two minutes earlier and cause Fantine undue distress as she was dying!" Valjean exclaimed.
"I actually got here fifteen minutes ago," Javert corrected. "I just saw that that woman was so close to the end and did not wish to have her know that her savior was going to prison. It seemed cruel."
"Well...thank you," Valjean said uncomfortably.
"Of course, this decision was aided by the fact that there was but one exit to this room and I was stationed right outside of it and at the first sign that you were leaving, I was going to come in and arrest you," Javert added.
"As you did," Valjean replied, nodding.
"I was right!" Javert said triumphantly. "I will take this lesson to heart and never, ever doubt again no matter what 'facts' might say."
"You're fired."
Javert laughed. "Nice try but it's a little late for that."
"How ever did you mistake that man for me?" Valjean demanded. "I mean, really. I would have expected better from you."
Javert had the grace to look embarrassed. "It was rather dark in the room and he was sitting down and everyone was just so sure...I did ask for the lights to be turned on and for him to become part of a line-up but they seemed to think it was unnecessary and they had ultimate authority there. I'm glad that you revealed yourself or I would have been forced to spend a great deal of time trying to free that man."
Valjean was looking faintly horrified. "You would have done that?"
"But of course," Javert said simply. "It's hardly lawful to let the wrong man go to prison!"
"I can't believe that I'm going to say this but I really should have had more faith in the justice system," Valjean said, groaning.
"Well I can believe I'm saying that yes, you really should have," Javert replied. He felt a sudden impulse to not make Valjean regret his one moment of honesty. That would hardly encourage him to ever engage in proper behavior again now would it? Granted it wouldn't matter much since he was going straight back to the galleys for the rest of his natural life but, as a sworn defender of the law, he would rather not think that he ever made the problems worse. "Although, to be fair, there is no guarantee that I would have succeeded or that it would have been done within the next few years. Courts are notoriously reluctant to reverse their decisions, you know. They fear that admitting to making a mistake makes them look stupid and incompetent and resist such things strongly. You've saved a semi-innocent man from a terrible fate."
"A fate that I must now face," Valjean said bitterly.
Javert nodded. "You shouldn't have broken parole in the first place. If you had not then we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"That was ten years ago!" Valean retorted.
"It was very wrong."
"It was my only chance to become an honest man," Valjean tried to explain.
Javert stared at him. "That doesn't even make any sense. You can't be an honest man if you're lying about your identity."
"You can't do it even more if everyone treats you like you're a convict."
"You could if you really wanted to," Javert insisted. "Growing up, everyone thought that I would become a convict and yet it never happened."
"Well good for you but that doesn't help me now," Valjean said, rolling his eyes.
"And whose fault is that?" Javert asked rhetorically.
"Look, I understand that you want to arrest me and while I would really like to avoid that and have spent ten years hiding from the law, I promise that I will come back here if you let me do something," Valjean said earnestly.
"Oh, well if you promise," Javert said sardonically. "Well, out with it!"
"I need to go find Cosette and retrieve her. Something's wrong with her situation, you know that that's true," Valjean continued. "Please, I only need three days. I promised Fantine that I would look out for her."
"That's great but how are you supposed to raise an eight-year-old in three days?" Javert demanded. "Think!"
Valjean frowned. "That's actually a good point. I will have to consider. I suppose I can drop her off at a convent or something…"
"And I can't just let you wander off again!" Javert exclaimed. "No one in their right mind would come back! I know that I wouldn't come back!"
Valjean was floored. "What about the law?"
"This is a me from another universe where the law doesn't matter to me," Javert explained. "Otherwise how could I possibly be in a position where I had broken parole in the first place? I know it's hard to conceive of such a universe but I'm sure that it does, in fact, exist."
"Well I really will. You can trust me," Valjean said, smiling winningly.
Javert was unimpressed.
"Hey, I remembered your name!" Valjean told him.
Javert nodded. "And that will be very helpful for my evaluation once I get you back to jail...Valjean."
"You could come with me," Valjean offered, brightening.
"I'm far too busy for a road trip," Javert rejected. "And those have the disgusting potential for 'bonding.'"
"Well then I don't know what we're going to do," Valjean said, shrugging.
"I do!" Javert cried out. "You're coming with me and the child isn't your responsibility. She's better off without a convict anyway."
"The people raising her sound horrible!" Valjean objected.
"Her mother was clearly a terrible judge of character," Javert replied. "But child protection is really not my area."
"No, obsessing over people for breaking parole and otherwise being honest and law-abiding citizens is," Valjean snarked.
Javert glared at him. "I have not been obsessing over you. I was just reminded of you when I heard about the one they thought was you and then again when I saw your monstrous strength."
"I would prefer you not use the word 'monstrous'," Valjean requested. "It's hurtful."
Javert ignored this. "And you can't be a criminal and a law-abiding citizen at the same time. It doesn't matter how you live most of your life, the one crime makes you a criminal by definition."
Valjean sighed. "Look, we've had this argument before regarding the thief thing and it's clear that we're just not going to come to an agreement. So I'll just be going and-"
"I will stop you!" Javert swore valiantly.
"I would not advise it," Valjean said honestly. "I'm fully prepared to kill you to get away if I have to."
"What happened to 'I'm a good person, really'?" Javert demanded. "Of course, I know that people don't change. They have a reason for doing what they do and very seldom does that reason change. You stole bread for your sister's children and if you had not been caught you would have stolen again. The next time Fantine needed money for her child she would have once more turned to prostitution. Most people don't have someone literally throwing money at them to get them to stop breaking the law and I am appalled at even having to do that in the first place! It might be one thing if going to prison were enough to scare people into becoming good but usually they leave far more iniquitous than they were when they entered. Regretfully, actually trying to reform our prison system is simply not a realistic prospect right now with the current state of society. That's why I keep applying to get rid of the parole system so that we may not release these monsters we create back upon an innocent society. Damn overcrowded jails…I was born in one, you know."
Valjean was taken aback. "No, actually I didn't know that. But why tell me?"
Javert shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. It just seemed like we've reached that point in our relationship where I can tell you these things."
"Well, okay then," Valjean said uncertainly. "Don't take this the wrong way but I hope to never see you again."
"How can I not take that the wrong way?" Javert demanded. "And you're not lea-"
He was cut off as Valjean hit him over the head and he was knocked unconscious.
Valjean spared a glance at his prone form. "He'll live."
Cosette moved about in rags, sweeping as fast as she could. "I really wish she'd give me a reasonable amount of time to do these chores! And that she'd stop purposefully making a mess so she'd be able to give me more to do…"
Madame Thénardier approached her with a malicious smile on her face. "Well if it isn't our little saint. You should stop pretending to be so 'awfully good' when it's all your fault your mother has stopped coughing up a fortune and you cost so much money! And we get nothing out of you! Utterly worthless."
Cosette just stared at her with big eyes.
"Oh, don't you look at me like that!" Madame Thénardier snapped. "I know what you're up to! Quick, Éponine, come over here and be beautiful so I can rub it in Cosette's face that she's not!"
Éponine came over to them and spun around prettily.
"See, that's what a proper lady looks like, not like you, you slut," Madame Thénardier said harshly. "Ugh. Your presence just distresses me. Go to the woods and get some water or something."
Cosette's eyes grew so large they hardly fit on her face. "B-but it's dark in the woods. And there are wolves!"
"Good. Maybe one of them will eat you and I'll have one less mouth to feed," Madame Thénardier said, pleased. "Now off you scoot!"
Terrified but knowing that she had no real choice, Cosette reluctantly took the bucket and went off on her way.
"Now, off to go rip off all of our customers," Madame Thénardier said, rubbing her hands together eagerly.
Valjean was traipsing through the woods heading towards the Thénardier inn when he came across little Cosette in the woods struggling with her bucket.
He automatically moved forward to help her. "Would you like me to carry that for you?"
Cosette blinked up at him. "Thank you, strange man."
"Don't be afraid," he said as the pair of them began to walk to the inn.
"I'm not," Cosette told him. "Can I go live with you?"
Valjean drew back. "You want to go live with me? But we've only just met!"
"I'm about two days away from just running away and living on the streets," Cosette replied. "So living with you would probably be an improvement."
"Are things that bad for you at home?" Valjean said, immediately sympathetic to her plight.
Cosette shook her head. "Oh, no. Things really are that bad for me at the inn."
Valjean looked closely at her. "Tell me, child, what's your name?"
"I am Cosette," Cosette introduced.
Valjean nodded to himself. "Well that's done. You don't look like you're dying and certainly not as if any of your mother's money – or mine, for that matter – has gone to you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Cosette told him. "So can I come live with you?"
Briefly overcome with emotion that the beloved daughter Fantine had sacrificed herself to save was in such a state, Valjean nodded. "Of course you can. Let's just get back to the inn and let the Thénardiers know."
Cosette winced. "Oh, we'd be better off just leaving, trust me. They'll just rip you off."
"Well, as appealing as that sounds I'll have to settle any debts that your mother owed – though I very much doubt there are any real ones from the look of you – and the last thing I need right now is a kidnapping charge," Valjean explained.
Cosette looked at him carefully. "Are you running from the law?"
Valjean coughed. "No, of course not! But if you could try to keep a low profile until we get to Paris then that would be great."
They reached the inn then and Cosette shrank back.
Valjean knelt down and put a hand on her shoulder. "Now remember, whatever happens you are coming with me. I am taking you with me even if I have to kill everybody in this inn. I just hope it doesn't come to that and we can reach some other sort of agreement."
"I think you should probably just kill the Thénardiers," Cosette advised. "If you don't it will just come back to haunt you."
"I'm sure it won't come to that," Valjean told her, standing back up and leading her into the house.
"Hey look, the slut's back!" Madame Thénardier declared as she and her husband came over to the pair of them. "And it looks like she's brought a customer! Well, she might as well have done something right."
Valjean was shocked. "You call an eight-year-old child a slut?"
Thénardier nodded. "Yes, of course. Why?"
"Fantine really was a terrible judge of character, wasn't she?" Valjean asked, shaking his head.
Madame Thénardier peered suspiciously at him. "Fantine?"
"Yes, the child's mother. I have a note from her authorizing me to take her," Valjean explained, handing over the note.
"Well, I don't know, Fantine always was a little stupid," Thénardier said slowly. "How do we know that you're not a pervert out to molest little Colette?"
"Cosette," Madame Thénardier corrected.
"Whatever," he said indifferently.
"You don't," Valjean said curtly. He glanced at Cosette. "Though I swear to you that I'm not. I'll settle any debt you might care to invent and then I'd really like to hurry and be on my way."
"I resent the implication that we would cheat anyone!" Thénardier said with the indignation that only the truly dishonest can summon up.
"My apologies," Valjean said blandly. "How much would it take for you to let me leave here with her quietly?"
"But we just love Colette so much!" Thénardier protested. "We'd be so sad to lose her."
"Not so sad that you'd actually learn her name, however," Valjean murmured.
"Why do you want Cosette in the first place?" Madame Thénardier asked, honestly bewildered.
"Well, I may have accidentally gotten her mother killed," Valjean admitted.
Cosette glanced up sharply at this.
"It wasn't like that!" he hastened to explain. "I just let her get fired because you exist and later her life spiraled wildly out of control and she was forced to sell herself and died pitifully in a hospital…I'm really not helping matters, am I?"
"Not really," Cosette replied. "But I'd still rather go with you than stay here."
"And that is exactly why I have to take her. You people are terrible at raising children," Valjean accused.
"Oh, we're not that bad," Thénardier argued. "When we put our mind to it we can be quite good parents. Why, just look at Azelma and Éponine! And…the other one. What's his name?"
"I don't remember," Madame Thénardier admitted. "But he's crawling around somewhere unless someone stepped on him."
Valjean stared at them. "Right. Well, unless you give me a number then I'm just going to take Cosette and go."
Thénardier shrugged. "Tell you what. You give us fifteen hundred francs and we don't care what you do with her."
"Finally! Some honesty!" Valjean said, disgusted. He reached into his pockets and pulled out the requested money. "Goodbye."
He and Cosette headed out into the snow.
"This is a good day," Cosette declared.
"I really should have listened to you and just left," Valjean remarked.
Cosette nodded. "Oh, most definitely. But oh well. We're done with them now."
They were, yes, but a short while later Javert rode up to the inn.
"Where is Cosette?" he demanded.
"I knew we should have asked for more!" Madame Thénardier hissed. She cleared her throat. "Um, monsieur, I believe that she has gone for a walk. If you'll just sit down, maybe order something, we can wait for her to get back…"
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