Once again I remind people that this story blends aspects of both the book and stage versions of Les Miserables. I have opted to go with Valjean's death as depicted in the book where it was a lot more drawn out and gradual rather than simply dying on the wedding night. Also, again I visualise this Javert in my mind as being Philip Quast.
As for Cosette, I have been to the London show so many times this year that I currently cannot imagine her as anyone other than the current London Cosette Samantha Dorsey. Again please do comment if you enjoy, I really do like to know if I am doing this okay. If I make any spelling or grammar errors please bare in mind that this is a hobby that I enjoy as an escape from real life. I am not a trained writer, it is just a bit of fun and enjoyment (although Javert may disagree). Please enjoy!

Broken Man
Chapter 4 - "You've done your duty, nothing more".

"He was stoical, earnest and austere, given to gloomy pondering" - Victor Hugo's Les Miserables book describes Javert.

"Unwise" and "foolhardy", "idiotic" and "irrational". All of these words and a vast many more had passed through her mind this long night as she repeatedly questioned herself, searching for a way to justify and re-justify the journey she was to embark upon in the morning.
Every time she had attempted to talk herself out of this action, to find an escape route, she felt her conscience gnaw at her, biting at her, urging her to go forward and put away the growing anxiety this very notion stirred within her.
She was, come morning, about to embark upon the completely inconceivable. The longer she lay here unsleeping, the more anxious her decision made her feel.
For three days, since fleeing from the asylum in tears Cosette had thought of absolutely nothing but her eventful encounter with Javert.
The very thought that she had felt sorrow for this man, that she had shown him tenderness, care and given him comfort in his distress had made her feel physically sick. He truly was an animal, chained like the viscous beast he was and deserving of his dire fate as fair retribution for all the years during which he had tormented her poor beloved Papa.
Her tears had eventually subsided after confiding the days events to her concerned husband.
Marius had been just as shocked as Cosette upon hearing of Javerts reappearance, comforting his tearful wife as she relayed the tirade the Inspector had let loose upon her.
That first night Cosette had retired early to bed, weary from the toll the day had taken on her. In search of solace she had taken one of the diaries left to her by her father, by Valjean, and set about taking comfort from reading his words. His written words were always a source of comfort to Cosette and since her Papa's passing she had progressively made her way through the diaries and writings he had left - "The story of those who always loved you" he had referred to it as. No matter what his entries discussed Cosette always felt the love and the warmth that emanated from the words, as though they were a light touching her soul or a warm hand grasping a gentle hold of her own smaller hand.
She had opened the diary at June 1832 and read, her eyes skipping some of the more distasteful and graphic descriptions of the violence at the barricade.
It was then that she had read it. A passage describing events that had taken place after that final battle.
She had always known a little of the events that transpired that night but had never thought to enquire of details or asked to hear in person the tale of that night.
She had simply always accepted a simple fact, that her Papa had selflessly carried Marius to safety - an act which had resulted in changing her own life forever.
She had read it again and then again, initially refusing to accept this startling revelation, a fact that Marius himself would never have known as he had not been conscious at the time of it's occurrence.
Someone else had been there that night, intercepting her Papa as he strained to carry Marius, someone who would have been fully expected to stop her Papa in his tracks with the full force of the law. Cosette had stared at the page in disbelief upon reading that this someone had been Javert and that the Inspector had given ground, yielded to Valjean and allowed him to pass unhindered. It was absolutely unthinkable, on a par with discovering that left was right and up was down.
Had he acted, arresting her Papa and thus preventing Marius from receiving the urgent care of a doctor, Cosette would have lost both her father and her true love overnight - Marius to a grim death and her Papa back to prison.
All through this night, these three days after having fled from Javert, she lay warm in Marius' sleeping arms, continuously plagued with thoughts of this revelation and what it now meant.
During the previous days and nights the thoughts had constantly haunted her, forcing her conscience to justify to herself just how she could lie in a warm bed in a house of finery, while the man who had - however inadvertently - enabled her life to become so fulfilled was left to rot in a cell, whimpering from the broken thoughts that tormented him, and who was almost certain to die alone in his chains upon the failure of his declining health.
Cosette had been raised to help the weak, to show mercy to those in need. The most important lesson her Papa had taught her was forgiveness and how that one simple act can change a mans life forever.
However much it scared her, Cosette's mind was made up.
She knew the story of how long ago a kindly Bishop had shown her Papa forgiveness. Forgiveness was, her Papa had said, a challenge. To forgive one who had wronged you, who had angered you, was far harder and yet more rewarding than harbouring hatred.
It was her turn to honour both that Bishop and her Papa.
Come the morning Cosette would return to the asylum, an idea spawned by a newfound feeling of obligation was forming in her mind.
What happened next would depend on how Javert received her and it would affect them both forever.

The sound of rain lashing down outside infiltrated the cell through the tiny barred window high up the wall. Near total darkness had enveloped the cell through the long sleep deprived night and together with the rain, the cold, and the damp had created a black tomb-like ambiance until the grey day had slowly broken.
Intermittently the sound of rain was joined by that of a jerking chain, rustling suddenly and then falling silent once more.
Against the wall, buried in the shadow sat Javert, the light of the grey morning unable to reach him.
His legs were stretched out before him and his back was leant against the wall.
His arms were raised against his chest with his fingers tucked underneath his iron collar. Long ago he had worked out that slipping his fingers underneath his collar enabled him to sleep without the collar strangling him on the occasions when sleep caused him to slump to one side or fall forwards.
Initially he had found it almost impossible to sleep in this upright fashion and had fought both the collar and chain with ever increasing frustration.
Months later he had reluctantly grown used to it despite the never ceasing ache his back now suffered as a result of having remained inactive in this situation for so long.
Again a chain rattled, it's wearers body twitching in a sleep that was fitful.
In the three days since learning of the death of Valjean Javert had scarcely slept.
Every emotion had coursed through him like the aftershocks of an earthquake.
As Javert had initially sat in utter numbness attempting to comprehend the news Monsieur Loiselet had entered and delivered his beating as punishment for upsetting the girl, Madame Pontmercy... Cosette.
For some time after Javert had sat there limp, his body aching, his side to the wall, head drooping and almost hanging by his neck chain.
The temptation was there... Just let his weight fall, let the chain choke the life out of him and let this world be damned.
Despite his black thoughts he found himself too preoccupied to even try.
Perhaps he was a coward who feared a second attempt at suicide, he did not know.
It was then during that evening just hours after having learned the news that the next attack of his 'madness' came upon him. Partially hanging by the neck he sat slumped low against the wall. Feeling the dried blood from the blow to his head caking the side of his face he felt the familiar sensation of his mind beginning to reel. The dark of night seemed to encourage his 'madness' to emerge from the depths of his mind as if it were a lure, calling for it to creep in under the shadow of blackness.
It was a single thought that triggered it, followed by a cascade of thoughts, an avalanche, both unstoppable and unrepentant: the realisation that the death of Valjean marked the end of a chapter of his life.
Valjean had been a constant, the only constant, for a great many years. Now he was dead there was no one at all, nothing to take his place.
The hunt for Valjean, this game the two of them had played like chess, this game of cat and mouse, was now over, cut short by mortality.
Yet to Javert the game had been all consuming and it had become personal - very personal. At some point it had stopped being 'the policeman' hunting 'the convict' and had instead become Javert hunting Valjean.
He was not sure exactly when this transition had occurred, he knew only that this was how their game had evolved, and this was how it was played.
The possibility of Valjean reappearing was always highly likely and, true to form, he always did reappear. Javert had reluctantly acknowledged to himself that there had always been something of a thrill to the chase.
To catch sight of ones quarry, to persue, to prepare to pounce, to drag ones prey to the ground after so many years and make the victorious capture was a moment he had long fantasised about. There would have been no personal gain from Valjean's capture, just a feeling of intense satisfaction and the knowledge that order had triumphed.
And now the game was over.
The quarry was gone.
The wolf requires prey to hunt, to live, to thrive, but without prey the wolf becomes little more than a domestic dog wagging it's tail upon seeing its master.
Perhaps this wolf was now mourning his master?
Javert had shaken himself from his thoughts at the very notion, refusing to accept that Valjean could have ever been that important to him, that he could harbour even a grain of respect for the guile of his opponent and, most horrifically of all, that Valjean had seemed so incredibly human and humane in their final encounters.
This humanity had marked Valjean as the better man, the thieving convict better than the righteous policeman.
Now there was no possibility of another encounter between these two old foes. No more battles, no more chases, no more scenting carefully covered tracks.
Even locked away Javert had clung to the possibility of another encounter with Valjean. His mind had been plagued with nothing but thoughts of Valjean ever since he had been imprisoned in the asylum, each day weighing up wether it was right that he be locked away so the "man of mercy" could continue to do good without fear of arrest, or wether it was wrong and he should fight to free himself so he could continue the chase and show absolutely no mercy to the prey.
And now there was nothing.
The question had been taken away.
His life was empty.
A void had opened up and he was hit by the realisation that there was nothing more in his life. There would be no more plans, no more policing, no more reports, no more patrols, not even the luxury of being able to look up in reverence at the stars.
The rate of his heart was increasing as these thoughts whirled, each darker than the other, and each fuelling his rising feelings of anxiety.
He was held here against his will, he had no family, no friend, no one was going to come in search of him.
A feeling of indescribable dread arose within his soul, a cold sweat formed all over him, his heart pounding even faster in a sudden blind panic as he became starkly aware of what his future now held for him...
He was finished.
There was no way out.
He would sit here in these chains locked away for the rest of his life.
Be it sooner or later, he was going to die here.
His panic was such that he felt the very walls themselves were closing in. His chest was banging with the pace of his heartbeat, his body trembled, hands shaking, and his breath coming in sharp rapid gasps, his ill health and infected chest conspiring against his ability to take in oxygen.
His vision blurred, darkening around the edges, his focus failing and his ears ringing.
After several more frenzied gasps for air Javert slumped, his body collapsing back against the wall and appearing almost lifeless as he fell unconscious.
In the days that followed this attack Javert barely moved.
He ate almost nothing and drank very little.
Even his daily battles with his chains did not occur.
Instead he sat exactly as he had collapsed, barely having moved a single muscle since, and his mind scarcely able to conjure any thought other than a feeling of all consuming blackness.
Finally in these morning hours after this third night Javert finally slept, succumbing finally to exhaustion and falling into a fitful yet restless sleep.

The footsteps, taking light and apprehensive steps were that of a frightened young lady.
The journey to the asylum had felt as though it had been a journey to the very ends of the earth, the temptation to turn back, to call out to the coachman and order him to stop and return her to the safety of her home had become almost overwhelming. Yet she had persevered, determined to summon her courage and walk the path she had decided upon.
Upon arrival Monsieur Loiselet had expressed great surprise, explaining that he had never expected to see her again after she had departed so abruptly and in such a state the last time.
Cosette had offered little in the way of an explanation as to her motivation for returning, opting instead to state that she had unfinished business with 'The Policeman'.
As with the previous visit Monsieur Loiselet led Cosette, her basket again in hand, down the dark passageway that led to the cell in question, unbolting the locks upon arriving and pushing the door open.
"I don't know what was said during your last visit", Monsieur Loiselet looked to Cosette and then gestured into the cell, "but he has sat as unmoving as a corpse since you left".
Cosette's heart jumped a whole beat upon hearing these words, having half expected to see Javert continuing to rage like a caged lion.
Once again she took a tentative few steps into the cell, looking back anxiously at Monsieur Loiselet for the briefest of moments as if making a last minute consideration as to wether to back out.
She persevered.
"Again, the door will not be locked, leave any time you like", Monsieur Loiselet quietly stated before he left with a polite nod, shutting the cell door behind her.
Once again Cosette's eyes took several moments to adjust to the darkness, the vast majority of the days light being denied entry by the single barred window.
Once adjusted to the dim light Cosette sighted him, apprehension leaping within her as she recognised the ragged form of Javert slumped against the wall, the neck chain hanging slack from the wall above him as if tethering a lifeless dog.
She strained her eyes to see, taking several very slow cautious steps forward as if she were walking on thin ice that might shatter at any moment.
He really was just as Monsieur Loiselet had described, crumpled against the wall, collapsed as if the fire she last saw raging within him had been extinguished.
Cosette stepped closer still until she was standing before him, noting that next to him sat his ration of water, undrunk and his ration of bread untouched.
His head was bowed, drooping forward with his long hair hanging loose obscuring his face and his fingers tucked again under his collar to aid breathing - He was sleeping.
Cosette quietly bent down next to him becoming increasingly aware of the fact that she was trembling in barely contained terror at returning to this man.
With immense hesitation she slowly reached out a hand and with the lightest possible of touches slowly drew his loose hair back to reveal his sleeping face, half expecting him to wake with a start and lash out wildly.
Cosette gasped audibly as she saw Javert's face. The right side of his face was blackened with bruising, his eye was swollen shut and a cut sat just above his eyebrow caked in dried flaking blood.
Placing her basket down she gently let his hair fall back, unsure of what she should do. She had not expected to see this.
Her answer came when the man before her stirred. A chained hand twitched and he took in a rough breath which was immediately followed by a thick cough.
He was waking slowly.
"Monsieur...?", Cosette spoke softly before she had even realised that it was her own voice, "...Inspector?".
Cosette's heart thumped and she took a nervous step back as Javert lethargically began to look up. She knew he was becoming aware of the presence of a second person - the moment she had dreaded suddenly arriving.
Slowly he removed his numb fingers from under his collar, pushing his hair from his face to aid his view, his chained hands dropping weakly to his lap immediately after.
His swollen eye refused to open, the black bruising too harsh to grant it sight. His good eye blinked slowly several times, the girl before him finally transforming from a blur and coming into focus.
Both stared at the other, Cosette in abject terror and Javert in a combination of both tired confusion and exhausted disbelief at what he saw before him.
"Inspector, I..."
"Madame, why..."
Both began at once.
Silence again...
"Monsieur... Inspector...", Cosette began with apprehension clear in her voice, "...the way things were left the other day... I felt I should come back... It's been bothering me... I didn't want to leave things as they were...".
Javert observed her as best he could with his limited sight, recognising the terror clearly displayed on her face before sighing and glancing down, another deep cough rattling his chest.
Once more he looked up at her, his face a picture of exhaustion, defeat, sickness.
"If I may reassure you Madame...", his downcast voice began in a tone lacking any strength, "...this time I do not intend to bite".
Cosette's features softened slightly, her apprehension easing a little upon hearing that the flare-up of outrage she had expected from Javert might after all not occur.
Another bout of silence followed, as chilled as the cold cell itself.
After a some hesitation Cosette stepped forward once again, bending down cautiously next to Javert, relieved and yet still feeling anything but safe in the presence of this volatile man.
"Monsieur... I mean, Inspector...", she gestured meekly to his face, "...What happened? Your face...Did they do this to you?".
Javert nodded where he sat, his sapped strength making the nod slow as both his neck and back ached tremendously with every movement. Weakly he leant his head back against the stone and exhaled.
"I was punished for distressing you so greatly", he admitted, his good eye staring straight ahead as he stated the fact dispassionately.
Cosette looked horrified. The thought of an act of violence being carried out in her name and without her knowledge or consent was abhorrent to her.
"Monsieur... Inspector, I can assure you...", she fretted with a jitter to her voice, "...that I made no such request of Monsieur Loiselet, I would never ask such a thing!".
"You would not understand Madame...", Javert shook his head and spoke slowly, "...it is his job to maintain order. I have disciplined enough prisoners in my time to know. This is merely the way of things".
Again his back pulsed with his movement, the many months of being restricted by the short neck chain to remaining sat against this wall, sitting in this position, sleeping in this position, had caused an ever increasing agony throughout his entire back and neck.
Cosette looked downcast as she listened, a pang of guilt within her at the knowledge that her manner of leaving on the previous occasion had led to this beating.
"I'm so sorry Monsieur...", she said quietly and looked down, saddened at both Javert's punishment and his casual acceptance of it as if he had received a mere slap on the wrist for a misdemeanour, "I had no idea".
Forcing the pain to the back of his thoughts, Javert looked at this naive girl, his groggy mind beginning to ponder a great many questions at her unexpected reappearance.
Once again he raised his chained hands. His collar was particularly uncomfortable this morning and he winced in irritation.
Upon Javert's arrival at the asylum, the iron collar been shut around his neck and secured at the back with a padlock.
This padlock was itself attached to the end of the hated chain that prevented him from straying far from the cold stone wall.
When sat leaning against the wall the padlock was of great irritation to Javert, constantly in the way at the back of his neck, jabbing at him, and preventing him from trying to relax the constantly aching muscles of his neck and back.
He had come to realise that as the collar was not chokingly tight he could turn it slightly, bringing the padlock and chain to one side so as to allow him to appease the ever increasing pain of his back.
Today, as regularly occurred, the padlock had slipped to the back again.
His hands trembled as he reached for it, lack of nourishment having made even the smallest of movements a challenge. He fumbled to feel for the padlock, his wrists being shackled together always making the task more complicated than it should be.
"May I?".
Javert looked up to see Cosette, her eyes glancing toward the padlock he sought, lean towards him from where she were bent down next to him. Clearly she had understood what he sought to resolve.
Javert gave a slow yet cautious nod, the very concept of accepting help, particularly in his vulnerable predicament, was still something he found almost too alien to comprehend.
Cosette leant towards him. Gently she brushed his hair back behind his ear, his good eye watching her the whole time, his body ready to draw back from her.
With light fingers she touched the collar, lifting it slightly from the base of his neck so as to not scrape his skin with its rough metal and then turned it, gently bringing both the padlock and the rustling chain to rest at his right shoulder.
Javert sat back, free of the loathsome irritation. He closed his good eye, pursing his lips in sheer ignominy at having needed and accepted the help of a mere girl, not just any girl but that girl, to help him with such a simple task.
Cosette sat back, saying nothing and simply observing him, sensing the once proud mans irritation at requiring assistance.
Javert finally looked to her once again, his tired face searching for answers and reasons.
"Why does the daughter of Valjean do this?", he finally asked after having taken several moments to choose his words, taking care not to unintentionally offend.
Cosette gave a reluctant smile as she considered the question, all the while looking at Javert, observing the stare of his piercing cold eye and noting how he appeared far weaker today than during her previous visit.
"If it is honesty you seek Inspector, I have tried at least a hundred times to talk myself out of coming back", she began with earnest sincerity, "My Papa lived every single day looking over his shoulder, watching for you, ready to take hold of me and run, to start another new life and abandon what little we had at a moments notice...".
Sat weakly against the wall all the while attempting to conceal the acute pain searing his spine, Javert listened, watching the girl as she spoke.
"I didn't understand why at the time, nor did I so much as know your name until I was older, but I always knew that someone was seeking to harm my Papa. And that was why we always had to hide. Inspector, I will admit this, you frighten me, you frighten me a lot".
Cosette looked away, dreading that his reaction might be explosive and worrying that her words had been too honest, too cutting given the combination of their most recent encounter and Javert's fragile mental state.
To her surprise, yet again no outburst followed and she looked back, as if expecting a delayed reaction.
He was unmoved, sat exactly as he had been, leant against the wall, head leaning back against the stone, chained hands resting in his lap and with no sign of any building rage about to erupt.
"Do not fear me Madame", he finally spoke, his voice downbeat yet reassuring, "I have never intended harm towards you, be it then or now".
Cosette's attention focused firmly on Javert, her nerves reluctant to calm themselves upon hearing him speak these words.
This return visit had so far gone nothing like she had feared. She had not expected, with him knowing her identity, to be able to engage in conversation with Javert.
"And my Papa?".
Javert thought, a vast array of memories of the past stirring in his mind at Cosette's inevitable mention of her adopted convict father, "I never sought to harm Valjean... Your father". There was honesty in his face as he spoke.
"But you would have returned him to prison?", Cosette asked seeking understanding of both Javert's motivations and beliefs, "for the rest of his life?".
"Yes", Javert's answer was blunt but truthful, "but harm him? No Madame. No prisoner in my custody was ever, ever, mistreated - not even those who's crimes far exceeded those of Valjean".
Cosette listened intently, never having expected to glean any insight into Javert.
"But you let him go?", she continued, finally nearing the point she had come here to make and hoping desperately that he would continue to respond, "after the barricade fell?".
As the question was asked there was a reluctance within Javert to form an answer, the memory being so close to the events which had triggered his undoing and ruination.
He said nothing for several long moments as he recalled that very event, an event which had occurred within the first hours of his thoughts and mind descending into darkness and shattering into the shards of chaos and confusion he was now left with.
"I did", he simply answered, "for reasons I struggle every day to comprehend".
Cosette was silent, undecided as to wether it would be appropriate to thank Javert for releasing her father or wether, being in full knowledge that this event had led directly to his attempt at taking his own life, to leave the words unspoken for now.
The silence was broken abruptly by Javert's sickly cough, his chains rattling as it continued unabated as he fought to draw breath and contain the onslaught.
His chest grumbled yet again, his cough finally retreating. His chained hands attempted to rub his chest to calm his gasping breathing as his aching back again surged with pain from the disturbance.
Cosette placed a hand gently on Javert's sagging shoulder as he looked down in weariness, concern clearly evident on her face, "You need a Doctor, urgently".
Javert swallowed hard, refusing the indignity of spitting in front of a lady the nauseating muck his illness was dredging up from his chest with every attack of coughing.
"No...", he dispiritedly shook his head, "...besides, I have no funds to pay for one".
Cosette said nothing, she had no idea what to say. Instead she simply looked at Javert in an attempt to understand this man and how he both thought and functioned. His entire physical bearing, his tone of voice, everything was different this time. It was, she sorrowfully acknowledged, as if he had simply lost the will to live.
"You never answered my question...".
His hoarse voice immediately brought her attention back to him as he looked questioningly to her.
"I asked why the daughter of Valjean does this? Comes back here after I caused you such distress... now you are aware of who I am?".
Cosette glanced at the shining ring placed on her finger and then back to Javert as she prepared to answer, to tell him a truth he almost certainly knew nothing of.
"When you last encountered Papa, he was carrying an injured young man was he not?".
Javert nodded in confirmation, "a half dead revolutionary".
Cosette bit her lip nervously, deciding how best to proceed, then extended her hand towards Javert all the while indicating the wedding ring on her finger and breaking into a cautious smile as she looked him proudly in the face.
"It is thanks to you Inspector that the half dead revolutionary survived", Cosette's smile broadened, "he is now my husband and I love him so very much".
Javert watched Cosette's face illuminate with joy as she spoke, her deep love for her husband lighting up her face like that of an excited child.
Love was something Javert himself had neither comprehension of nor did he seek, viewing it only as a distasteful human facet and a distraction from his work. For his entire life he had lived only with that which he deemed necessary to sustain him - food, lodgings, adequate clothing and eventually his purpose - the police. Love was practically a dirty word and sex an absolutely impermissible thought.
Cosette smiled warmly at Javert, taking back her hand from before his good eye and looking proudly at the ring as if it held more value than the world itself.
"It truly is all down to you Inspector", the gratitude was clear in her voice, "your actions that night, in letting Papa pass, you saved the life of my husband. Every moment of happiness my husband and I share, we owe it all not just to Papa but to you too!".
These most unexpected of words had visibly taken Javert by surprise.
Upon waking to find Cosette had returned to his cell he had steeled what little resolve remained within him and waited, accepting of the knowledge that he had spoken out of turn when last they met, and fully expecting this girl to embark upon a heartfelt defence of Valjean.
This was not the conversation he had expected. The very notion of witnessing the daughter of Valjean expressing heartfelt thanks before him had momentarily given him cause to wonder wether his madness had deepened and he were hallucinating.
"I must confess...", he finally summoned words to form a reply, "...the events of that night are somewhat... blurred to me... I must admit I never gave the injured revolutionary another thought".
"It doesn't matter", the emphasis in Cosette's voice was clear as she placed her hand warmly on Javert's arm, "he survived, we are happy and you played a vital part in that".
Javert watched the smiling girl, an immense ache once again creeping up his spine, his back and neck once again protesting his prolonged confinement against the wall.
"I wish you and your husband well, I truly do", he began with sincerity, "but you owe me no thanks. Your union is simply a consequence, a side effect, of my actions".
Cosette abruptly stood, pondering Javert and looking him over.
She had come here with the intent of making a decision. A decision that would greatly affect both her and Javert's futures.
Her decision was not yet made, but she knew she was nearing a decisive moment when her choice would be made for her.
Javert's rags, just as damp, cold and dirty as last time hung from his body. His wrists and ankles still bore scars, lacerations and traces of dried blood from the wounds received as a consequence of battling his shackles. His bare feet were still dirty and he had clearly not been permitted to move more than a few paces from the spot his neck chain restricted him to.
Looking around the cell she caught site of his blanket, the one she had given him during her last visit, and picked it up.
"I did not feel deserving of that after the last time", Javert spoke up in admission as he watched her, a hint of shame to his voice.
"Nonsense Monsieur", Cosette shook her head, her thoughts still whirring in her head as she pondered whether to say what she was planning.
She approached Javert again, opening the blanket up and shaking it out.
"Lean forward again", she indicated as she held out the blanket for this second time, "please Monsieur?".
Sensing no other choice Javert did as requested, a sharp gasp escaping under his breath as pain once again lashed his back as he moved, his spine feeling as if it might shatter.
It was clear that Cosette had noticed this time, her eyes darting to his face in concern as he gasped before she once again wrapped the blanket around him, relinquishing the ends of it to the grasp of his hands for him to pull it tight around him.
"It doesn't matter to me how inadvertent your actions were Monsieur", she gently saw to arranging the blanket until she was satisfied with the warmth it provided, "the fact is that it happened".
When satisfied that he was amply wrapped in the blanket, Cosette stopped, looking Javert straight in his good eye.
"Inspector...", she began, her sense of obligation towards him at the forefront of her mind, "it is clear that I owe you a great debt. A debt myself and my husband must repay".
"Javert...", he said with barely more than a whisper to his voice, "...there is no more 'Inspector'. The Inspector drowned long ago, washed away by the waters of the Seine. Madame, you have displayed exceptional kindness given who I am, what I was to your father... Please, address me simply as Javert".
Cosette's face formed a genuine smile in response, the remaining tension her body felt at being in this mans presence dissipated and she relaxed feeling that a connection had finally formed between them.
"If it pleases you...", she hesitated upon the removal of formalities, "...Javert".
He nodded in expression of his thanks, aware that he had never before invited anybody to address him informally by name. Even now he felt it comparable to a lowering of his guard and yet it somehow felt appropriate.
"Then you must call me Cosette!", the girl said with a chirp to her voice, "I absolutely insist upon it".
Javert again nodded, accepting the request as one might accept the terms of an agreement.
"Then please know Cosette", he began, "that neither you nor your husband owe me a debt of any kind".
Cosette stood, shaking her head in disagreement, "that is where you are quite mistaken. I have come to realise that I must do whatever I can to help you. I simply cannot let you sit here like this".
Javert watched her, his neck aching as he looked up, his mind doubting that there was anything this wisp of a girl could realistically do to aid his dire situation.
"Javert I came here today expecting to find a monster, this terrifying policeman my father feared", she paused looking down at the broken man before her.
"And what did you find?", Javert asked, curious to know how this daughter of Valjean, who was naive and simple but most certainly not stupid, had perceived him.
"I didn't find a monster, I found a man. A man who has been damaged, both mentally and physically", sadness penetrated her voice as she looked at him, "I found a man who needs someone to help him and most of all, I found a man who needs a friend, possibly more than anyone has ever needed a friend".
Javert was silenced. It was rare for anyone to speak words to Javert which rendered him speechless.
The girl was certainly perceptive. Indeed he was damaged and he was broken, but she was also correct in assessing that he was also utterly unable to help himself in any way.
He had nothing and no one.
"I...", he waited while trying to formulate a response, "...do not know how to respond".
Cosette again lowered herself next to Javert, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, taking in the features of his face and trying to imagine him as he was, proud and tall as her fathers writings described.
"I may not understand what ails you", she said feeling the need to explain herself, "but I cannot with good conscience sleep soundly at night knowing that the man I owe so much to sits here, in these conditions, when I should be doing something to help."
Javert listened, observing Cosette as she spoke and finding himself unsure as to exactly what he should be feeling.
This was not charity from a do-gooder, nor was this condescending goodwill or patronising sentiment of the sort that would always have greatly irritated him.
This was someone who, it appeared, harboured a genuine concern for him. This was both new and unknown.
"You truly do not owe me anything", Javert repeated, "I would be greatly shamed to become a burden to you".
Cosette's fingers soothingly rubbed his shoulder through the fabric of his blanket.
This human touch of friendship made his shoulders tense defensively, the sensation being resolutely foreign to him.
"Relax", Cosette quietly spoke as she watched him take in her words and actions, "there is no burden".
Javert looked down, several deep coughs again rattling his chest.
"You do not understand. I fight this ailment, this torrent of madness, every night", he sighed, "and with the greatest of respect, I doubt there is anything you can do to fix it".
Cosette sat back, a sad expression on her face and gave a shrug, "then what is to be lost by trying?".
Javert had no answer.
"Let me put it another way", she continued, "if Inspector Javert arrived at the scene of a crime and found the culprit had fled, would he simply give up? Would he not try and resolve it?".
Javert watched Cosette, admitting to himself that despite her docile appearance this girl was sharp, as sharp as the man who had raised her.
"He would persevere...", Javert admitted.
Cosette again smiled, "good!".
Javert opened his mouth to speak then paused, as if wanting to broach a subject but thinking better of it.
He thought, considering the one issue that overshadowed everything that had been said. He was not a man of words, nor was he a man of tact but there was a delicate subject both had steered clear of, avoiding as if it were made of gunpowder and might ignite if touched upon.
"Madame...Cosette...", Javert corrected himself, "before we discuss anything further there is something I must ask".
Cosette saw his features become solemn, "go on...", she prompted.
Javert fought to find appropriate words, desperately hoping not to distress or offend.
"I do not wish to cause you upset but I really must know, it is of great importance to me...", Javert paused before deciding to come straight out with it, "Jean Valjean, is he really dead? This is not a trick or a ploy?".
Cosette looked down, closed her eyes and sighed, the memory still hurting.
After a moment she looked up, noting how desperately Javert appeared to be awaiting an answer
She nodded.
"Jean Valjean is dead. He passed away several months ago... Papa is with God now".
A breath Javert had unknowingly held whilst awaiting the answer escaped him, as if he had just received a great blow. He allowed his face to drop into his hands, enabling his expression of shock to be concealed.
The chase was truly over.
He took several deep yet steady breaths, as deep as his chest would allow, trying to calm the cold rush that had washed over him upon confirmation of the news. He had no choice but to calm himself, he were too weak and exhausted to stand another attack of his 'madness',
"I am sorry", he finally looked up, locking eyes with Cosette and hoping desperately that he hadn't hurt her with his question.
"I am not offended", she reassured him, "it is right that you know".
"I do not understand", Javert looked to her eyes in search of answers, "Valjean was as strong as an ox".
There was a long pause, the subject being of a sensitive nature that both found hard to comfortably discuss.
Javert prepared to speak again.
"If I may be permitted to ask... How did he die?".
Cosette wiped a small tear from her gradually moistening eyes, biting her lip as she prepared to tell of the events that bore her great pain.
"If it is too much", Javert interjected upon seeing the visible grief rise within Cosette, "then please do not sadden yourself on my account. I know all I need to know".
Cosette shook her head in determination.
"No, I will tell", she took in a deep calming breath, "Papa became ill, so very ill. And we were so stupid. After Marius and I were married Papa kept his distance, staying away from us in the belief that he were no longer needed, that I was no longer his".
Javert listened in respectful silence.
"Oh Javert he was needed! I needed him! Just as I need him now! It is unbearable to think of him sitting alone, dying a little inside with every passing day when his rightful place was really in our home. He should have dined at our dinner table, enjoyed the flowers and sun in our garden, enjoyed walks with us in the afternoon!"
Cosette's lip quivered visibly and she clearly began to cry quietly as she remembered, looking down as if attempting to hide her tears.
"Instead Papa withdrew from us. He was terribly ill and yet he never told us. He should have sent for me, for us, there is nothing we wouldn't have done to help him. We only saw him in his final hour. Cold, he was so cold...", she paused for a moment as she cried, "I just don't understand why, why did he stay away, why did he not ask for help?".
Javert watched from where he sat, taking in every detail whilst being unsure himself of what words we're required in this situation. He had in his profession seen people grief stricken on many occasion, but it had always been impersonal. Usually his experience extended as far as speaking to those left behind after a murder and assuring them of swift and decisive justice, it had never involved a personal connection.
"Perhaps...", Javert's voice quietly pushed in through the sobbing, "...perhaps he did not wish help?".
Cosette looked up, fixing Javert with a confused stare and brushing aside tears with her fingers.
"How do you mean?", she asked.
Javert took a breath to steady the rattle in his chest, "I know Valjean... I knew Valjean...", he corrected.
He waited several moments, allowing a thick cough to pass before continuing.
"Valjean's life on the run, his various identities, his hiding... It was all part of his mission, his vow to the prosti...", he stopped himself before he misspoke, "...it was all part of his vow to Fantine, your Mother, to raise you. Once the vow was fulfilled his mission was complete".
Cosette wept away quietly as she listened attentively to Javert's words.
"But why? Why couldn't Papa come and live out his days with us?", she wept, "was it me? Did I do something wrong?".
"No, it wasn't you...", Javert shook his head in answer to her question, raising his shackled wrists from his lap and indicating with a hand for her to stop and listen.
"Although it fills me with a disturbing irony", Javert began, "I believe I fathom his reasons".
"How can you, when you were here?", Cosette asked, struggling to comprehend Javert's words.
Javert thought, trying to arrange his words as tactfully as he was able.
"It would seem that in a short space of time Valjean's life changed, changed beyond all recognition", he began, "the world he knew for years suddenly ceased. He was not a young man. If he withdrew, keeping his ill health a secret, then he could die causing you no grief. He would simply disappear and hope you would move on".
"But that is not fair", Cosette protested again wiping a tear as it ran down her face.
"I am afraid Cosette", he again began looking to this girl next to him, "that despite the fairy tales, fairness has little or no bearing on life".
To emphasise his point he raised his wrist shackles in Cosette's direction and gave a slight tug of the short chain that constantly held his wrists so close together.
"The policeman in chains", he grunted, "hardly life being fair, do you see?".
Reluctantly Cosette nodded, a harsh lesson in the realities of life having made itself known to her courtesy of Javert.
"The irony that troubles me is that it appears we both sought the same exit. We both abruptly lost the worlds we knew, everything changed so fast...", Javert paused, a frown forming upon his face and his eyes staring into a fog of nothingness as he followed a train of thought, "Valjean withdrew to await the inevitable... I withdrew to the Pont au Change bridge to provoke the inevitable. We both sought the same thing, a way out".
"Stop it Javert!", Cosette snapped with an edge of pleading within her voice, "...please, just stop".
Javert shook himself back from his mental digression, focussing once again on Cosette.
The details of Valjean's passing had come as a tremendous surprise to him. As Valjean had been a man of such tremendous strength Javert had expected to learn that Valjean's death had resulted from an accident rather than illness. Even in Toulon prisoner 24601 was rarely ill. Learning that he had simply gone off to die having lost the will to live was shocking, and yet at the same time, it also seemed somewhat in character for the sentimental old convict.
"My apologies...", he hung his head, berating himself for thinking such words out loud, "...I forget myself. My thoughts, my thoughts often drift to a darker nature... I am sorry".
Javert remained unmoved, a sigh escaping him as he looked down, avoiding Cosette's gaze.
"I must fight harder to retain control in your presence", he said in a voice barely more than a mutter.
Cosette took a handkerchief from her basket and dried her tears, noting how tired Javert now looked.
Javert did not look up.
Once again looking around next to him, Cosette picked up the untouched ration of bread which sat near him.
Gently she tore a piece of bread off, holding it out to him as if it were a gesture of peace.
Slowly he looked around to her, another wince at the pain which wracked his back.
"You haven't eaten in days?".
Javert shook his head slowly in answer.
"Eat", Cosette urged.
"There is little point...", Javert again faded to a lifeless whisper.
Moments later he was again wracked by his cough, almost choking as he attempted to breathe such was the strength of the cough.
He leaned forward, gasping greatly as he fought for breath, the sound of his chest sickly and the neck chain pulling taut against his collar as he leant.
Finally he fell back, his energy again sapped, the attack passing and returning to him his breath.
"You must let me fetch you a Doctor then at least!", Cosette again urged.
Weakly Javert shook his head in a slow response.
As she looked on, seeing him indicate this negative answer Cosette felt frustration built within her.
"Why!?", she finally demanded, "Why do you not eat and why will you not consent to a Doctor?".
Javert again took several moments to allow himself to breathe. He was exhausted, his lack of nourishment taking it's toll and his back constantly in a state of pain.
"Food...", he breathed, "...will sustain me".
"Yes", Cosette nodded.
"A Doctor...", again a breath, "...may remedy me".
"Yes", Cosette repeated, "that is the whole point!".
"You do not understand", Javert looked to Cosette, his swollen, blackened eye still refusing to open.
His thoughts swung back to those of the huge attack of anxiety his 'madness' had struck him with several nights previous.
"If I eat, and if a Doctor returns me to health, then this Hell continues", his good eye fixed Cosette with a terrible expression of both pleading and terror.
Unexpectedly he moved his shackled wrists, taking Cosette's hands into his own, a move so unprecedented it surprised even him, and held them tight as he looked directly at her, his good eye piercingly sharp.
"Cosette, please understand... I cannot do this anymore! You cannot imagine what this is like! I cannot move from this spot! I am locked away here every hour of every day! I do not even know how long I have been here!", it was building again, stirring, he could feel it.
"Eighteen months...", Cosette quietly answered, "...a year and a half".
He was already trembling and now he trembled more upon hearing this, Cosette felt the shaking clearly through his desperate hands.
"Cosette believe me...", he urged, "I was once a proud man. This disgrace, this humiliation, this shames me. I cannot sit here chained like this for the next ten, twenty years".
"What are you saying?", an anxious look dawned on Cosette's face as she listened to his pleading words, a feeling of a foreboding intent lurking within his voice.
"Valjean bore his chains for nineteen years, but even he had a fair trial... Even he had a definite sentence... And even he had hope of release", Javert breathed, letting go of Cosette's hands and jerking the wrist shackle in frustration.
Cosette listened.
As she watched him struggle a pain was building within her, recognising again the deep frustration that crushed his soul daily.
"Let this damned illness take me!", Javert abandoned his struggle, weakly hanging his head and a long breath again rattling his chest, "my body feels like that of a man twice my age, perhaps one day I shall fall asleep here and be spared the indignity of ever waking again..."
Cosette sat open mouthed, her mind falling back to thoughts of her Papa sitting alone as he waited for the end.
"Javert, I refuse to accept what I am hearing", a firmness she was not used to displaying was clear within her voice, "you are doing just what Papa did only this time, this time I am not going to let it happen!".
She stood, huffed out a large breath of annoyance and frustration and let out a sound like that of a suppressed pretend scream deep within her throat, looking to Javert as one might look to a disobedient child who were refusing do as told.
"Honestly, Javert! You and Papa!", she berated throwing her arms up in the air in exclamation, "The sheer bullheaded stubbornness! I could bang your heads together!".
He tried to suppress it, it was hardly appropriate to the conversation but for a moment it actually pulled him from his fatalistic thoughts, allowing him a moments precious reprieve... Just for a moment, upon hearing Cosette's frustrated outburst, he smirked in the briefest of amusement.
"I saw that", she said, placing her hands on her hips, looking down at Javert.
"Forgive me...", he looked to her, "... But know I speak the truth when I say I find this situation increasingly intolerable with every passing day".
"That's it", Cosette simply stated, "That is absolutely it!".
Her mind was made up, her decision made. There would be no going back now.
Softening, she looked to him tenderly, observing his blanket wrapped around him, his face bruised and his spirit broken.
"Javert, I spoke the truth before. I am going to help you, I am going to change this, and I am going to do everything in my power to help you get better", she announced with certainty ringing in her voice, "and if you get better, you can get out of here!".
The very thought, the tiniest chance that he could conquer his 'madness' and one day be freed seemed almost beyond comprehension, as if it were a far off glimmer of hope that were almost beyond reach.
"What do you say Javert?", Cosette asked, "will you accept my offer of help? If you decline then you know you will die here alone, in the cold and dark".
She waited, watching as he clearly gave consideration to the vast and serious implications of her words.
"Or you could find the courage to accept the help offered by this mere girl who, wether you believe it or not, has come to care about what becomes of you".
Cosette waited, closing her eyes for several moments as she awaited the answer of this man to whom the very concept of asking for help, or being perceived as week was deeply discomforting. Slowly, she walked to the other side of the cell, taking a moment to look up and observe the tiny window that let in such a meagre amount of light, before striding slowly back.
"I...", Javert hesitated, finding these words almost impossible to speak, "...I am not a weak man, do you understand?... I do not depend on others".
Cosette kept back, remaining silent, giving him respectful space and ample time to arrange his words.
"But...", he again paused, "...I reluctantly accept that I do require an ally".
"No Javert", Cosette corrected, "you need a friend, even if it is the first friend you have ever had. I will be both your friend and your ally if you will accept my help".
With that Cosette lowered herself before him and held out her hand as if concluding a business deal.
One more pause and he spoke again.
"It is agreed", Javert nodded raising a chained hand and cautiously taking Cosette's own in a weak handshake.
"Good!", Cosette beamed a great smile of relief.
Turning to one side she again picked up the bread, breaking another piece off, "Now eat, please", she urged as she handed it over.
With a nod of acceptance upon having made a solemn agreement Javert took it and complied with her request, the bread being the first thing he had eaten in almost three days.
"And while you eat", Cosette continued, "I want you to tell me what I can do for you right now. What is the one thing, no matter what it is, that would make life just a little more bearable? I need to start somewhere Javert".
The bread was poor quality, it always was, but to Javert's famished body it was a pure indulgence.
He listened as he ate, considering Cosette's question.
"There is one thing", he admitted, still discomforted at discussing weakness, "I cannot find words to adequately describe the pain I endure each day in my back and neck".
Cosette listened, aware already that he was suffering in some way after having witnessed him wince sharply on more than one occasion.
"This damned chain", he gestured upwards to his neck chain, "this accursed monstrosity prevents me from lying down. When I sleep I must find a position sitting up that allows me rest. I have not been permitted to lie down for... How long?".
"A year and a half", Cosette repeated, her heart aching as she listened to him.
Javert sat back, his back throbbing on cue and his hands balling into fists at the pain, "Right now, the only relief I desire is to lie down, the rest be damned".
Cosette turned to her basket, picking out a small pouch, pleased that she had the foresight to bring this item and it's contents with her in advance of her decision. She stood, moving away from where Javert sat and proceeding to the cell door, all the time being watched cautiously by Javert who seemed to be silently questioning where she was suddenly going.
"I have promised to help you", she stated, "now let us see what we can do?".
With a strain she eased the heavy door open and left, pulling it shut behind her.
Javert sat in silence, wondering exactly what his new ally were up to.

It took only moments for Cosette to walk the short distance from the passageway which housed the miserable cells to Monsieur Loiselet's office.
"Come!", his voice called as she knocked upon his door.
Cosette opened the door and entered, seeing Monsieur Loiselet seated behind his desk filling in paperwork. The office was of stark contrast to the cell she had just left, a window allowing in generous sunlight, a hat and warm coat hanging from a hook and various writing materials piled neatly on the desk.
"Ah, Madame Pontmercy", he said as he looked up, pausing his writing and laying down his pen.
Cosette entered further into the office and stood before his desk.
Respectfully Monsieur Loiselet stood, "I trust all is well? Did your visit to the Policeman conclude satisfactorily?".
"It is of him I wish to speak Monsieur Loiselet", Cosette began.
"If he has caused you further upset Madame he will be punished", Loiselet said firmly.
"No he has not", Cosette shook her head, "and I would appreciate it if there were no further chastisements of that nature against him".
Monsieur Loiselet appeared surprised, hesitating for a moment in thought before once again sitting and indicating for her to also take a seat.
"So...", Monsieur Loiselet began once both were seated, "you wish to discuss our Policeman?".
"Yes", Cosette nodded, "may I ask what is to become of him? Long term I mean?".
Monsieur Loiselet sat back in his chair, exhaling a deep breath.
"The Policeman, I am sure you have realised, is of greatly unsound mind. When it strikes, he has little or no control over his madness", Loiselet began, "and like all the other souls here there is no family to claim him".
Cosette continued to listen, the sadness of Javert's situation increasing her growing feeling of responsibility toward him. She had, it occurred to her, never asked him if he had family.
"He has no one?", she asked.
Monsieur Loiselet shook his head where he sat, "No one. That is why Monsieur Gisquet, his superior officer, approved the hospital's request to send him here. There was simply nowhere else, and there was no way he could be released to fend for himself in his state of mind. It was for the best".
"With respect Monsieur Loiselet this seems hardly the best place for someone who needs help", she said in disagreement, "in fact, I do not see much help taking place at all".
There was silence as Loiselet thought, trying to gather a response to give this sweet but naive girl. "Forgive me Madame Pontmercy, but there is no help for people like these", Loiselet explained, "there are those who argue that madness is caused by a chemical imbalance in the body, and some who still believe their souls are possessed by demons. I do not know, but by keeping them here we prevent them causing harm to themselves or anybody else".
Cosette paused.
"So you are saying he has no hope?", she asked, saddened by such an attitude.
"We feed him, we clothe him, we provide him shelter", Monsieur Loiselet defended, "with no one to claim him and no family take responsibility for him that is all we can do, just like all the others. And to answer your question Madame, he is almost certain to remain here until the day he dies".
Cosette took in a deep breath, saddened that anybody could disregard the life of another so easily.
The time had come to do that which her heart told her was right, was necessary.
She raised the pouch she held in her hand and placed it on the table under the nose of Monsieur Loiselet, it's contents making a metallic jangle as it landed on the hard desk.
Leaning forward Cosette carefully untied the binding that held the pouch closed.
"I and my family claim him. I will take responsibility for him", she stated as the pouch revealed that it contained a number of coins, "I trust this will be enough to see that he starts receiving any help he requires?".
Monsieur Loiselet appeared genuinely dumbfounded at this unexpected turn of events, his eyes looking first to the currency and then to Cosette with a look of sheer surprise upon his face.
"But...why? What is he to you?", he asked with genuine curiosity within his tone, "are you sure you understand what you are saying Madame? This isn't at all like adopting a stray dog. The man is tormented!".
Cosette nodded, resolute in her decision to go ahead with that which she felt was right.
"The man has a name, and if it is an explanation you require Monsieur then I will give you one. I did not realise who he was or that he was even here until my first visit", she began with complete honesty.
Monsieur Loiselet listened with intense curiosity as Cosette spoke.
"Inspector Javert was known to my late father...", Cosette continued with a formality to her words, trying to sound confident yet avoiding the entire truth whilst also trying to avoid lying, "...he and my father were acquaintances going back many years".
"I see", a clearer understanding was now dawning on Monsieur Loiselet's face as he listened, as if pieces of a puzzle were falling into place before his eyes, "but you do realise that he cannot simply be cured overnight, if at all?".
Cosette was relieved Monsieur Loiselet had not sought greater detail from her as to how her Papa knew Javert. She did not think herself as capable of telling a convincing lie nor had she, during all that had taken place, taken time to invent a false story. Inwardly she sighed a great breath of relief.
"I understand perfectly Monsieur Loiselet, but my Papa raised me to help those in need and I cannot simply walk away from here leaving Inspector Javert to endure this suffering alone", she finished, concluding her explanation and offering no further detail.
Monsieur Loiselet took a moment and then smiled at her briefly, nodding his head with admiration.
"Alright", he said, "you seem to have a grasp on what you are doing and I dare say, if I may be so bold Madame, that your father has raised a fine and morally upstanding young lady".
Cosette bowed her head slightly in an unspoken thanks as Monsieur Loiselet opened his desk drawer and removed a pile of documents.
She sat as he methodically searched through them, each seeming to correspond to an inmate of the asylum.
"Didier, no... Gounelle, no... Héroux, no... Jaccoud, no... Aha! Javert!", he pulled the record from the pile, glancing to double check it was the correct one before setting it on the desk.
Cosette watched as Monsieur Loiselet examined the document.
"Javert, Police Inspector, admitted July 8th 1832, failed attempt at suicide, greatly disturbed and of unsound mind, transfer authorised by M. Gisquet, Prefect of Police, Paris".
Spinning the document round to face Cosette Monsieur Loiselet, leaning slightly forward across his desk, pointed at the bottom of the page.
"By signing here you effectively become the closest thing he has to next of kin", he explained, watching the girl as her eyes scanned the document, taking in all it's details, "it doesn't entitle him to release, but it does give you say over what happens to him".
"I understand", Cosette agreed.
Monsieur Loiselet passed Cosette the pen he had been writing with when she had entered. Taking it in her hand she signed her name and the deed was done.
She placed the pen down and pushed the document back to Monsieur Loiselet's side of the desk.
"Now that is done, I do fully intend to help him recover enough to some day be released", Cosette stated, "I appreciate that this may not be any time soon, but he has to have hope".
Doubt was clear on the face of Monsieur Loiselet, his expression clearly saying that which he would not speak aloud.
"What do you intend to do?", he enquired.
Cosette reached forward, pushing the pouch of money towards Monsieur Loiselet.
"The Inspector is quite ill Monsieur. I want you to fetch a Doctor, a reputable Doctor", Cosette instructed, "...but first I ask one more thing...".

It had been some time since Cosette had abruptly left, leaving him once again chained and alone in his cell.
During the time since her leaving Javert had finished the bread and drunk half of his water.
The intake of both food and water after so long had caused him to feel somewhat stronger. It wasn't much and his body was still weak but he no longer trembled from hunger.
He sat back slowly again, a splintering pain gripping his back as he leant causing him to grit his teeth until it passed.
Holding the ends of his blanket in the fingers of his closely linked hands he once again pulled his blanked tight around himself. The feeling of warmth was something he had almost forgotten in the time he had been here. During these winter days the cold of the cell was such that was regularly able see his own breath as he sat shivering in his chains by the wall, frequently cursing the name of Valjean for his situation.
Yet now he found himself warmed by the generosity of Valjean's adopted daughter.
Javert pondered wether it were really him or the world itself that had finally gone mad.
As if in answer to his question the cell door creaked then once again opened. Cosette peered around the heavy door before finally pushing it all the way open.
"It is done", she announced with a pride to her voice as if an accomplishment had been made.
Wincing, Javert looked quizzically up watching Cosette as she made her way to the basket she had left behind.
"What is done?", he asked eyeing the girl with curiosity as she moved.
Turning to him Cosette smiled, her smile reassuring, relieved, and a little pleased.
"I signed paper work entitling me to assist you", she began, "now I can officially help you in any way I can and I promise I will do my best not to let you down".
Such kindness, still alien to Javert, made him uncomfortable. The assistance the kindness brought was, he reluctantly admitted, quite welcome - it was the not knowing how to respond to such acts that troubled him.
"It is I who must not let you down", Javert replied, more as a strict instruction to himself rather than a response to Cosette.
He continued to observe Cosette as she went about what clearly appeared to be a pre-prepared mission.
Reaching carefully into her basket Cosette lifted out what Javert recognised as more blankets.
She unfolded the first one and spread it carefully on the floor before Javert, covering the cold stone and old straw.
"What are you doing?", he asked, a mix of curiosity and confusion to his tone. He had always disliked not knowing what was happening.
Cosette shook out and spread another blanket on top of the first, ensuring a second layer of blanket further subdued the cold of the floor.
Looking at Javert with a determined expression she answered as she worked, "I am setting you on the path to recovery Javert, just trust me... a little?".
Finally she took a third blanket and, leaving it folded, placed it at the top of the laid out blankets as if it were a pillow.
"What is that for?", Javert asked with another cough, full in the knowledge that the tempting blankets were well out of his reach despite being so close infront of him.
"Madame Pontmercy insisted upon it", a commanding male voice answered unexpectedly as Monsieur Loiselet strode into the cell through the open door.
Javert's shoulders tensed, still feeling obliged to sit up straight before an authority figure even if it were one tasked with denying him freedom. His reaction came entirely naturally for it was the same respect he demanded of prisoners back in the old days, in Toulon.
Monsieur Loiselet strode confidently up to Javert, small objects concealed within his closed hand. Javert cast his eyes down, unsure if he had done wrong, caused offence in some form and awaited whatever punishment was to come next. Once Monsieur Loiselet was stood beside him, Javert felt a hand grasp hold of his metal collar, pulling at it with a chinking of metal accompanying the action as it all the time pulled against his throat.
Behind his closed lips he wolfishly bared his teeth assuming that Monsieur Loiselet were, on a whim, intent on tightening the hated device.
There were several chink sounds, followed by that of metal slumping loosely against a stone wall. These were then followed by the clunk of the padlock being refastened.
It took Javert a moment to comprehend what had just occurred, refusing at first to believe it and thinking it a trick of his mind.
Cosette stepped forward, watching him and then leaning down to place a hand again on his shoulder.
"It's gone Javert", she assured him with honestly clear upon her face, "you can move".
Unconvinced, Javert raised his chained hands and felt. The collar was still in place and he reached for the padlock that kept him linked to the neck chain. His fingers haphazardly found it. It was there, but the neck chain was no longer attached. The wolf was no longer tethered.
His eyes widened momentarily in an uncharacteristic bout of surprise and he looked to Cosette, sick as he was yet barely able to conceal his disbelief after so long.
Cosette in turn looked to Monsieur Loiselet, still standing to the other side of Javert as if passing a silent instruction.
Loiselet nodded in response and turned, kneeling down by Javert's ankles where his legs lay outstretched before him.
Taking hold of a key from the same bunch, Loiselet leant forward and unfastened the ankle shackle nearest him. With a shake the shackle reluctantly opened, Loiselet releasing Javert's left ankle to reveal a mess of both scaring and weeping lacerations that eighteen months of fighting it had resulted in.
Javert stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the wounds in the presence of Monsieur Loiselet. It was, after all, nothing he hadn't seen before in his years at Toulon.
"He needs to lie down", Cosette instructed, her tone sounding almost an order after having seen the extent of Javert's shackle wounds.
"Can you stand Javert?", Monsieur Loiselet looked down at the man in his charge, his voice authoritative.
Javert nodded, refusing to show weakness to Monsieur Loiselet. He was a proud man, not a dog that had been housebroken.
His weakened legs lay outstretched before him and, summoning what little strength remained, he slowly moved them. He had rarely stood in the last few weeks, there seeming to be little point since he could do no more than shuffle a mere handful of minuscule paces before the neck chain halted his advance. His weakened muscles had only complied during outbursts of rage which had soon passed with the subsiding of the resultant adrenalin rush. With effort his knees bent as he pulled his legs in, trying to force himself upwards and leaning painfully against the wall for support. With each movement the chains of his half released ankle shackles clattered as the shackle attached to his left ankle dragged the released right shackle along the stone floor.
Understanding the struggle she witnessed Cosette took hold of Javert under his arm, nodding a second silent instruction to Monsieur Loiselet for him to do the same.
With a strained breath and trembling body Javert slowly stood, his weight leaning almost entirely against the wall.
"You're doing fine...", Cosette spoke gently, increasingly aware of the fact that his legs were shaking from the strain.
"Can you take a step?", Monsieur Loiselet this time cut in as he supported Javert from his left side.
Tentatively Javert, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, moved his right foot, supported around his waist by both Cosette and Monsieur Loiselet.
"Gently does it", Cosette urged as she attempted to shoulder her burden of Javert's weight as best as a small built young lady could.
"And another...", Monsieur Loiselet prompted, feeling ever more clearly the shaking of Javert's unsteady legs.
With a couple more steps Javert stepped onto the blankets that had been laid out.
"Let's get you gently to your knees first", Cosette suggested.
Javert nodded. His breathing was becoming heavier through the exertion and slowly his assistants helped him lower himself to his knees.
Immediately Javert leaned forward, placing his chained hands onto the blankets laid out before him for balance. His long hair fell forwards as his body acclimatised to moving almost freely, and he coughed deeply, struggling once again to catch a breath.
"Monsieur Loiselet", Cosette began with urgency, "thank you for your assistance but would you please now be kind enough to summon the Doctor we spoke of?".
"Certainly", Monsieur Loiselet nodded before getting to his feet, wiping his hands against his clothing and leaving.
When after some moments his cough subsided, Javert looked to Cosette stood beside him, unsure of quite what to say.
"You need to lie down Javert, the Doctor is on his way", she urged.
Still trembling from the sudden movement Javert lowered himself forward onto the blankets with Cosette's help, slightly less uncomfortable in his weakness now Monsieur Loiselet had left.
Once lowered onto the blankets Javert shuffled onto his side, finally relenting and allowing himself a prolonged yet muffled cry of pain.
Alarm spread upon Cosette's face as she heard this, "Your back?", she asked as she knelt beside him, his back toward her.
"Yes... It will pass", he assured her with a prolonged grimace, "I am not used to movement".
Cosette again nodded in understanding yet fully aware that she could not comprehend the discomfort he suffered.
"Are you comfortable on your side?", she asked where she knelt as she pulled his blanket from his shoulders and prepared to cover him properly with it now he was laid down.
"I will find this easier to breathe", he explained, another cough passing as he spoke.
Once more Cosette nodded, respecting his wishes.
She began to place the blanket over him as he lay with his back towards her on this makeshift bed she had prepared when she stopped abruptly, eyes focused on his pained back.
"My goodness, your back!", she exclaimed as she cast her eyes upon the damp and filthy rags which clad his back.
A hole had been worn clean through the rags just below his right shoulder blade, rubbed away by months of contact with the rough stone of the wall. The exposed skin was red, scuffed and scratched, topped with a large blister of painful appearance.
"It is a mess?", Javert enquired in a tired whisper.
"I'm afraid so", Cosette said sadly as she continued from where she had halted, pulling the blanket over him to his shoulders and covering his chained hands that lay out before him.
His head lay on the folded blanket that was to act as a pillow, and he exhaled a deep husky breath, finally allowing his aching muscles to relax a little as the warmth of the blankets began to spread through his aching and sore body.
"Cosette", he called through his exhaustion, "I must remind you that I have no funds to pay for a doctor".
"It is taken care of", Cosette gently reassured, her hand as ever placed on his shoulder as he lay before her.
"You know I dislike charity...", he breathed quietly, his disdain at having fallen this far clear within his wounded pride, "...I must repay you".
Cosette sighed. The more time she spent with Javert the more her heart broke for him, and yet with each protest he made against accepting charity or causing her inconvenience, the more her respect for him grew. It pained her greatly to witness the state this fearsome policeman described in her fathers writings had been reduced to.
"Then repay me with stories of my Papa, what the Jean Valjean you knew was like", she compromised.
Javert lay quiet for several moments, the sensation of warmth luring him towards a drowsiness he was unable to fight.
"They are not all good stories...", he answered with hesitation.
"I want to hear them...from you", Cosette looked down at his exhausted form, "but first I want you to rest. The Doctor will be here as soon as he can".
Wordlessly Javert nodded, his eyes slowly closing for the first peaceful time since his arrival eighteen months ago.
Cosette watched in silence, well aware that Javert had finally succumbed and drifted off into a desperately needed sleep.
Gently she continued soothing his arm with the thumb of her hand as he slept, watching over him like a guard dog.
As she watched him she recalled a quote from her fathers writings, from the night he had released Javert unharmed from the barricade.
Looking down at the sleeping form of Javert she whispered these words of forgiveness aloud.
"You've done your duty, nothing more".

End chapter 4.