The situation on the barricade went downhill quickly from this point on. Valjean hardly had the time to seek out the missing child - who seemed to have disappeared without a trace in the rush behind the barricade once more - before the sound of the drums forced him to let the matter slide.

This attack was different than the previous ones - while at night the soldiers tried to surprise the insurgents, what was happening now was an open charge. Despite him not participating in the combat itself, the effectiveness of this strategy was apparent to him by the sheer number of wounded that he carried away from the barricade.

Merely a glance at the crowd on the other side off the fortifications was enough to extinguish any hope - the opponents could crush the revolutionaries just by their numbers, not to mention the weapons available to both sides. Yet, the barricade held up.

He saw the boys of the barricade be struck down one by one; the one who helped the wounded together with him was pierced by the bayonets as well. The soldiers fell in no fewer numbers, but next ones immediately took their place. On this side of the barricade there were not nearly enough people to replace the fallen.

The one that he was keeping an eye on was still standing - covered in so much blood that he barely seemed alive, but fighting nonetheless. If he will be mortally wounded in the fray, there would be nothing he could do; Valjean tossed away the slight hope that it happens. No, they boy needed to stay alive - he waited for the moment when he will be too badly wounded to continue fighting so that he can drag him away from there, alive.

After several attacks the barricade fell at last, and soldiers began to flood the battlefield behind it. He stayed close behind Marius, waiting. He could see the rest of the insurgents retreat into the inn, and with some relief he realized that Marius was not able to join them. It was fortunate, though it left a bitter aftertaste for him - it would be harder, if not impossible, to rescue the boy from the inside of the building.

He acted immediately when he saw him fall - he took hold of him before he even touched the ground, and evacuated him behind the corner of Corinthe, where the wall gave shelter from bullets and the eyes of those fighting.

There he had to stop - Marius was still breathing and safe for now, but he had not thought much of what he would do beyond that point. He put his hopes in the little barricade, where he could use the same escape way that Javert did, but behind it a line of bayonets glistened clearly in the sun. It was already guarded - the soldiers had thought to cut off this way out escaping.

Where else he could turn? The houses around stood locked, with no signs of life - they might have as well been stone walls for all the good that they did. Should he attempt to scale them? With an unconscious young man he was more likely to make them both fall to their deaths than to succeed in doing that.

Despair arose in his chest. Was it all in vain? Was his only option to wait for the soldiers to come and count on their mercy? He knew that none would come.

Then his eyes locked on the ground. There, between the paving stones lying loosely in chaos, was a small iron grate.

At this moment the entrance to the sewers became a ray of hope for him. It was not much and it was not safe, but at least it presented an option of surviving this massacre, both for him and for Marius.

It took him seconds to lift the grate. He lowered Marius into the hole with care; luckily, the floor was not far below. He climbed back up to pull the grate over the hole again to avoid alerting the soldiers.

He peeked out our the hole - and froze when he noticed some movement in the corner.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to readjust to the light. At the wall there laid a few objects that did not make it to the barricade for whatever reason - some small pieces of wood and two empty barrels which seemed to be close to falling apart, laying on their sides.

A grown man could not possibly fit in there, so he calmed down, signing it off as rats or a stray cat and reaching for the grate. When he pulled out toward the hole he casted a last glance toward the barrel. This time he saw more inside of it.

Instead of fur or a tail, what moved closer to the light and allowed him to see it was an arm - a very small one, but undoubtedly human. Above it, a pair of eyes observed him with surprise, now motionlessly.

They both stared at each other in shock for a second before Valjean remembered that he should not linger there.

He glanced down to make sure that Marius was still where he left him - a ray of sunlight coming in through the entrance revealed just enough to ensure him of that - then lifted himself up to the surface and walked toward the child in the barrel.

Javert decided not to include in his report to the perfect the presence of either Shofranka or Valjean on the barricade. He would eventually have to admit the loss of the child in case she doesn't come back, but if that happens that would be a case for another time. The revolution was more important now.

The identity of the insurgent who had freed him, however, did not have to be known to the prefect. For now, he would keep it to himself.

He finished his report and was about to arrive when Gisquet stopped him. "Ah, one more thing."

Javert turned back to face him.

"Concerning the matter of that child that was in your keeping," the prefect continued, not noticing the sudden paling of Javert's face, "we have closed the case that she was a witness for. Any information from her will be no longer needed. Hopefully a placement for her will be found soon," he explained. "That is all."

Javert remained still for a moment. "Understood, monsieur," he said before taking his leave.

Valjean had a chance to observe that child on a barricade earlier, before he proceeded to threaten him with a knife. He was rather easy to remember, even for a person busy looking for one particular young man - about half the size of everyone else there, he spoke little, seemed distracted, flinched at sudden gunshots that came after periods of silence - yet refused to listen to anyone telling him to leave. He was not fighting, of course, but helping in a way that he could - carrying bandages around or performing small tasks for the medics. Valjean found that he behaved similarly to himself there, though in his own way - in contrary to the other child that was on the barricade for a while, he seemed to have nothing to do with the revolutionaries or their ideals. Or perhaps he was just a shy boy who somehow got there.

Now he wondered if Javert was the reason that he was there for. They clearly seemed to know each other. In the case of anyone else, he would assume that he was either his child or cousin, but he could hardly imagine the formidable inspector in the role of a father and her never knew him to have any family. So he had no clue as to who he was.

As much as it piqued his curiosity, it was hardly his main concern at the moment. But after he dragged the half-stunned boy together with him underground, he had no task more important than to ask him questions.

The child climbed down the ladder with no comment. Valjean joined him moments later, after closing the grate and locking away most of the source of light for this dark corridor, then climbed down.

The sensation was strange, like walking down a grave. The gunshots and screams which blocked any other sounds on the surface now reached them as no more than distant echos. The constant drip of water was louder than it, and so were the sounds of them breathing.

They could hear only two breaths, Valjean noticed. He kneeled down next to Marius, barely able to make out where he was, and pressed his hand to the boy's neck to check if he could feel his pulse.

He heard the child take a step toward him- then he gave out a horrified sound, leaping back.

As it echoed in the corridors, Valjean jerked up, realizing the reason for it. "He's alive, don't worry! He's just unconscious," he explained. He was not so sure of it, despite having felt a faint pulse.

The child stepped again toward them with caution, keeping his distance from the body.

Valjean looked around; his eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness. "We cannot stay here. We shall get out." He picked Marius up and turned to the child. "Stay close, don't get lost in here."

He started walking, and the child's footsteps followed him immediately. At first he was walking a small distance behind him, then slowly moved to walking by his side.

"Who is he?" the child asked curiously after a moment, pointing at the body on Valjean's back.

"His name is Marius," Valjean replied. He is my daughter's beloved," he winced slightly as if just saying that was painful to him.

"Oh!" the child exclaimed. "So you came there to help him? I also came to help someone," she said in an understanding tone, nodding.

Valjean glanced to the side, but he could not see much in the darkness. "You mean the inspector?"

"Yes," the child confirmed. "Even if he's in the police," he added grimly.

Valjean noted that tone with curiosity. "Is he your-" he paused. Just what was the most probable version here? "Uh, father, perhaps?" Again, that sounded strange to him.

"Is he?" the child wondered for a moment. "Yes, I think he is now," he said after a while. "He wasn't before, but now he is."

Valjean raised an eyebrow at the strange reply, but chose not to comment on it.

There was silence for a moment.

"My name is Flavie," the child said suddenly.

So she was a girl after all, Valjean noted. "That's nice."

"What is yours?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Ultime Fauchelevent."

"That's a strange name."

"I know."

They walked in silence for a moment until they encountered a place where the tunnel split into two. Valjean stopped with uncertainty, looking at the darkness in his left, then the darkness on his right, unsure of which one he should choose. Though his eyes were used to this place by now, he could still see nothing deeper in the tunnels.

The girl looked at him questioningly. "Do you know where to go?"

"Not exactly," he confessed. "We just need to find another exit."

She gasped. "You shouldn't walk around here without knowing where to go! My mum said so!" she exclaimed.

Valjean observed with raised eyebrows how the child suddenly appeared sadder. "I would say that you shouldn't walk here at all. Have you been here before?"

"Yes! A few times," she said proudly.

"Do you know how to find the exit, then?"

Her smile died down. "Not really. I always knew where I was supposed to go. And I never went anywhere far on my own."

"Oh, well," Valjean shrugged. "We'll make it somehow. Let's go that way," he said, heading off into the tunnel that he supposed should lead him toward the Seine.

The duty of patrolling the bank to check the supposed criminal activity there was the last thing Javert wanted to do now, but he did not protest when the prefect sent him away to continue with his duties. Still, it was surprisingly hard to focus on his job now. He found himself glancing nervously at the panorama of the city every time a gunshot sounded in the air, until the sounds died down completely.

The duty did nothing to lift his mood. He had foolishly let Thénardier - for he was sure that it was him - escape through the entrance to the sewers. He did not remember it being there and, to be fair, he did not expect the man to be in possession of a government key.

He waited at that spot, hoping for anything that would not make this case a complete failure. Thénardier had to come out eventually, unless he would dare to venture further into the sewer, or perhaps other men would come.

He expected to spend hours like this. This has given him all the time to think about the recent events. He would prefer to have something to help him take his mind off it, but the distant gunshots and the stinging sensation on his chafed wrists were still too real to let him forget the barricade.

He could still not quite comprehend it. Not only Valjean has been found still alive and in Paris, like he had suspected, but he saved his live instead of taking it. It escaped all logic. He should be long dead, not standing at the bank of the Seine waiting for criminals.

The other side of his mind reminded him that he left a child that was under his care in the middle of a military conflict. He hoped that the soldiers would not shoot to a small child, but his mind has produced more than enough ways in which she could die there.

He squeezed his aching wrist, forcing himself to push both of these thoughts back and focus on his duty.

Still, he could not help but think.

Valjean was surprised at how quick the child warmed up and became talkative. He had to shush her every once in a while, worried that someone might hear her chatter. Though his attention only flickered to her for moments, as concerns about Cosette and finding a way out bothered him more, he still caught snippets of the stories told by her in a constant whisper, not disturbed by his lack of reaction. He understood that she had something in common with a certain gang of criminals of some sorts. It made her connection to Javert far more puzzling.

Talking seemed to calm the girl down, she seemed to grow scared whenever she stopped, so he allowed her to continue. She only became quiet when they had to avoid a patrol of police, then resumed her talking as soon as she felt that they were safe. Valjean was slightly surprised how a child who called inspector Javert her father was nearly eager not to face the police. He considered making her go to the patrol, say that she got there by an accident, ask for help - she told her that, but she was horrified by the idea. Not wanting to encourage her to protest loudly and reveal their presence to the patrol, he abandoned the plan.

He had to get away from here, not for himself or this unconscious boy that he carried, but for Cosette and that strange little child who walked beside him.

Javert jerked up when he heard the metallic sound of a key being turned in a lock. He made sure that he was hidden from sight behind the pile of rubbish. Finally, his waiting paid off - he spent nearly half a day there, and he was already having second about whether Thénardier was still there. But he was patient - apparently, rightly so.

To his surprise, it was not Thénardier who came out of the open grating. It was a man of visibly stronger built than him, covered in filth beyond recognition and carrying what appeared to be a dead body.

He might have not caught Thénardier, but he found a murderer instead.

He confidently stepped toward him, clutching his bludgeon. "Who are you?" He demanded in a rough voice.

The dirtied face bent over the motionless body turned and stared at him in shock.

Before he got a response, he heard a short squeal. A second filth-covered shape, this one much smaller, darted from the exit from the sewers. Without stopping, it clashed into him, causing him to sway, and clung to his leg.

It took him a moment to even realize that the shape was also talking.

"-and I thought that we would never get away from there because monsieur Fauchelevent said that he didn't exactly know the way and people get lost there a lot! And it was horribly dark there because we had no lamp like you should have there and I barely saw anything-"

He barely made out the words over the sudden buzzing in his head. Fauchelevent. He had heard this name just a few hours ago.

His eyes switched between the child covering his clothes with filth from the sewers while rambling, and the man who in the meantime managed to stand up, leaving the dead body sitting up against the wall.

He was simultaneously relieved that the child was unharmed and absolutely horrified by the fact that she came there with Jean Valjean, and that fate made him confront that man again. He did not know what to make of the situation.

He slowly realized that his hand has been clenched on Shofranka's shoulder. He let go of it and moved her away far enough to make her let go of him as well.

He took a step toward the man who now watched him, seemingly about to say something. He grabbed him by the shoulders, ignoring his confused look, bending over him to examine his face. If he hoped to see anything that would disprove him being Valjean, he did not find it. The face hidden behind a layer of filth and the brown eyes looking back at him suggested rather a cruel trick of fate than a mistake.

"I will not run," said the face slowly. "I only ask you for one thing."

Javert stared at him, letting go of his shoulders and moving back slightly.

"Since I managed to get your daughter back-"

"She's not," Javert corrected dryly.

"-permit me to deliver this boy to him home as well. Then I'm yours."

Javert gazed at the motionless body, sitting slouched against the wall, as dirty as Valjean and Shofranka. "He hardly seems alive."

"He is. Just barely. That is why hurry is required. He needs a doctor."

Javert had to ignore the hand tugging at the edge of his coat. "Who is he, anyway?" he asked, not directing the question to Valjean but rather seemed to be asking it of the unconscious man himself. Not waiting for an answer, he took out a handkerchief and dipped it in the river, then wiped the boy's face with it.

"His name is Marius, he lives on Rue de Filles-du-Calvaire," Valjean's answer to the question came, causing Javert to shudder.

"He was on the barricade," he said with a wince, looking at the boy's pale face. It was the one who seemed vaguely familiar to him for some reason, though he could not quite recall where he had met him before. Perhaps he had seen him during the past weeks when he was investigating the insurgent activity.

He stepped back when Valjean's hand appeared before him, reaching toward the young man's coat. He took out a pocket-book and handed it to Javert, opened on a page with a few lines scribbled there in hurry.

"Gillenormand, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, No. 6," Javert read out quietly, taking the pocket-book. He straightened his back and turned to the side - only to see a child's face looking at him with an almost comical frown.

"Stop ignoring me," Shofranka said, visibly offended.

"What do you want?" Javert snapped back. "Go home."

She crossed her arms with stubbornness. "No."

Javert's lips thinned into a line. Instead of answering, he turned to the carriage that has been waiting for him. "Coachman!"

He noticed with the corner of his eye that Valjean picked up the unconscious man carefully, visibly confused but luckily not commenting on the situation. Javert was not sure if he would stand any questions at the moment.

Moments later, Valjean was packing Marius into the carriage while Javert, followed by a silent angry child, was giving the address to the coachman.

Marius was laid down on the back seat, and Valjean sat down on the front one. As the unconscious body took the entire seat, Javert had little choice but to join Valjean there.

He was about to close the door when he noticed Shofranka standing in the way.

"There is no more space for you," he said. "Go back home."

She huffed with outrage. "I won't! I'm going too!" this being said, she climbed into the carriage, climbed over Javert's legs and squeezed herself between him and Valjean.

Javert watched it with a scowl. He hardly had any will to remain here and argue with the child. Shaking his head, he shut the carriage door. He gave a sign to the coachman and they took off in silence.

There would be no movement in the carriage of it wasn't for Shofranka being unable to remain still, turning her head right and left, examining the inside of the carriage, the passengers and the lights visible behind the panes of glass, passing by quickly. Javert sat motionless, his head turned toward the window, ignoring the presence of the others. Valjean was similarly still, with an empty gaze locked on Marius on the opposite seat and an expression showing nothing but weariness. Marius, on his part, could have as well been a dead body, from which only a closer examination could discern him, when the only motion he made was being thrown about the seat when the carriage jumped on the uneven paving stones.

Though the situation was uncomfortable for all three conscious passengers squeezed together on the seat made for two, the only one who expressed it was Shofranka. She kept getting more restless as the journey carried on, throwing quick glances around, swinging her legs and crumpling the fabric of her shirt.

After a while, her eyes stopped on Javert. She observed him in silence for a moment, then leaned against his side, pressing her forehead into his arm. "I'm glad you didn't die after all," she mumbled.

Both Javert and Valjean jerked up at the sudden voice, even though it was quiet.

Javert stared at her for a moment. "Stop sticking to me, you're all dirty," he growled finally.

All that he gained by that was that she wrapped her arms around his arm clung to it.

He shot her a deadly glare, which she did not see with her face buried in his sleeve. Instead, Javert looked behind her to notice that Valjean has been watching them with an expression of wonder. Seeing Javert look in his direction, he quickly averted his gaze.

Much to Javert's dismay, Shofranka even walked with them into Marius' grandfather's house, just to wander around and watch the wealthy-looking building. When they got back from the house that they have roused with alarm back into the disturbing silence of the carriage, she placed herself on the back seat, not minding the blood stains that Marius left there.

Before the situation forced him to act on it, Javert heard Valjean call his name. He turned his head to him with some reluctance.

"I must ask you to grant me another favour," Valjean said.

"What is it?" Javert asked gravely.

"Permit me to visit my home for one instant. I will ask for nothing more then."

Javert contemplated it for a second. It suited him. He nodded silently, then leaned toward the driver to give him the same address that Valjean has given him on the barricade.

Valjean looked like he was ready to try convincing him to agree, and settled back, surprised.

Shofranka started wriggling around as soon as the carriage took off, kicking the floor and fiddling with every part of the inside of the carriage that she could reach. She occasionally glanced at the two silent men, but neither paid attention to her behaviour.

"Where are we going after that?" she asked finally.

Though both Javert and Valjean twitched at the question, neither of them answered it or even turned his head to meet her gaze.

She pouted with frustration. "Why are we going to your house, anyway?" she directed the question at Valjean.

He blinked as if he was woken from a dream. "I need to speak to my daughter before-" he paused uncertainly- "ah, before I can go anywhere else."

Javert's eyebrows furrowed slightly into a puzzled frown.

"Oh, you have a daughter!" Shofranka exclaimed, resting her chin on her hands with curiosity. "What's her name?"

Valjean stared at her for a moment. He glanced at Javert, but the inspector seemed not to even hear them, turned toward the window. He smiled slightly, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Cosette. Well, technically it's Euphrasie, but everyone has always called her Cosette."

"Cosette," the girl repeated, then nodded approvingly. "I like it. What is she like?"

"She's-" Valjean stopped, unsure of how to start. "Well, she's much older than you. She's an adult now, I suppose."

"I want to meet her," Shofranka decided suddenly.

Valjean paled a bit. "I- I don't know if it's possible now."

"Why not?"

"Uh," he replied, "it's hardly a proper time to pay a visit to someone, isn't it?" He made up a reason quickly.

"Aw," Shofranka crossed her arms with disappointment. "Tell me more about her, then!"

Valjean hesitated a bit more but under the girl's hopeful look he started speaking. It was a topic he could surely write essays on, but the longer he went on, the more he looked like he might break down in tears at any minute.

Shofranka did not notice that. She kept asking more questions and listening with interest for the rest of the journey.

Javert gave no sign that he hears anything, not tearing his eyes off the window. Only his hand resting on the seat clutched it's edge so tightly that his knuckles went white.

The situation was brought to an end by the carriage halting.

They had to stop before the entrance to Rue de l'Homme Armé, for the street itself was too narrow for carriages. Leaving the carriage behind, they walked the rest of the way in silence until they reached number 7.

Javert glanced at the old building. "Go," he said simply to Valjean, leaning at the stone pillar at the entrance and crossing his arms. "I will wait here."

Valjean stared back at him with a strange look on his face, but walked toward the door with no further comment.

Javert lowered his eyes. Shofranka was shifting on her feet impatiently, watching the door with focus as it closed behind Valjean. He contemplated the situation for a moment. "Go after him," he said finally. "See it that he hurries."

The girl beamed back at him, nodding with excitement, then sprinted toward the door and disappeared in the building in a matter of seconds.

Immediately, Javert turned back to send the carriage away.

Shofranka caught up to Valjean on the staircase.

"I like this house," she commented, glancing around. "It seems cosy."

Valjean nodded absently, barely registering her presence as he walked up slowly, with a heavy heart. He mechanically leaned out of the window on stairway, breathing in the night air. He opened his eyes, and froze immediately.

The girl noticed that. "What? What is it?" she asked. Having received no answer, she trotted toward the window and pulled herself up to look through it. "I don't see anything."

"He's gone," Valjean mumbled with disbelief. "He left."

The girl's eyes widened, finally noticing what was not right behind the window. "What now!" she exclaimed, letting herself drop down to the floor. Taking a step back, she stared at the window with question. "Where did he go?" she asked, turning to Valjean.

Seeing him as confused as she was, she turned on her heel and ran downstairs.

Valjean stood there dumbfounded, looking at the way leading to his flat, where he could rest and where Cosette awaited him, and at the stairway on which the child's frail figure just disappeared. He considered the situation for a moment, but hearing the girl open the door his conflicted sense of duty won. He decided that a small child running around Paris in unrest, lost, was more urgent. He gave the way upstairs a last melancholic glance, then turned away and followed the girl with haste.

Shofranka ran out on the street and halted there, unsure of how to proceed. Indeed, Javert had disappeared, and so did the carriage. There was no living creature within the reach of her eyes.

Feeling her eyes begin to sting a little, she looked toward one end of the street, then the other one. She had not a slightest idea where Javert could have gone. Maybe he went home, leaving her here?

She jumped up, hearing the white-haired man behind her. He might have been a part of this all too, somehow! He might try to stop her!

Not waiting for him to catch up to her, she took off, sprinting in the direction where they came from.

The streets were absolutely deserted. Perhaps she should be glad that there was nobody there to stop or question her, but it terrified her beyond reason. With not a single soul outside and no more life than a few rats scurrying away when she ran past them, she might have as well been the last person on this world. Nobody even peeked out of the window to see the child running through every street and alley around, there was nobody to ask about her, nobody who could tell her if perhaps they have seen a man in a black greatcoat pass through there recently.

And Javert had vanished into thin air.

She had some idea about how big Paris was. She could be running like that for days with no result.

She ran through the streets leading in the direction of Javert's apartment, but she stopped after some distance. She did not see anyone walking, and didn't even hear the carriage in the distance. The eerie silence suggested her to turn back and look elsewhere while little enough time has passed for her to have a chance on finding him. She could go home if that failed.

Every time she stopped to catch her breath, out was harder too calm it and more teardrops dripped down her cheeks. She had never felt so utterly alone in Paris; or at least not since her mum-

She cut the thought short and broke back into running.

It took what felt like hours of running panically before she was stopped. She was running along the Seine when a movement on one of the bridges stopped her. This was the first time she had seen a human, not counting a police patrol which she had promptly avoided.

There was something vaguely familiar about that figure. She felt her heart rush as she trotted toward the bridge.

She had a vague idea that she was supposed to be mad and hate him but the relief was too big - she had found him, at last!

She trotted toward him and pulled on his sleeve. The hand did not move, gripping the parapet of the bridge tightly, and neither did the rest of him. He blinked with confusion, still not tearing his eyes off the river before him.

She pouted and grabbed his wrist. She pulled it with all of her strength until he was forced to turn toward her - he did so with some surprise painted on his face, as if he did not notice her before.

Shofranka let go of his wrist and crossed her arms. "What do you think you are doing?" she asked in the most adult voice that she could - in the same tone that her mother used to speak in when she scolded her for doing something remarkably irresponsible.

Javert looked as if he needed a moment to comprehend the situation. He opened his mouth, then closed it. "Go home," he uttered at last.

Shofranka huffed with outrage. "You can't just leave me with strangers and wander off somewhere without telling! You scared me!" She tried to sound angry, but she felt herself being close to tears.

Javert breathed out loudly, calming himself down. "Look, the letter I left there- It had directions, you've read them? You need to do what it says-"

"But you're not dead!" she protested. "So it doesn't matter, right?"

Javert looked like he was about to disagree with both of the sentences. "Just follow the letter."

Silence fell for a moment as Shofranka stared at him in shock. "You can't do that!" She looked at him, expecting an answer, but none came. She felt tears well up in her eyes. "Is that because I ran off? I won't do it again, I swear! And I will learn how to read and write properly! I don't want to go to some monastery!" She grabbed the edge of his coat. "I'm not that angry about the inspector thing, you know! You might be a policeman but you don't seem like a bad one! And I can even do housework! Don't lock me somewhere with a bunch of strangers for the rest of my life! Please!" At this point there were tears falling down from her cheeks onto the ground. She hid her face in Javert's coat for a second, then jumped back, letting go of the fabric. "Are you mad because I keep pulling on your coat after you told me not to? I won't touch it again! Really!" She could feel speaking getting harder for her when she kept getting no response. "I will do better! Don't send me away yet!"

Javert watched speechlessly as she went from talking panically to sobbing. She seemed unable to say anything else, having broken into crying.

It took him a long while to even stir. He took a step toward the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder, having to bend just to do that. "Let's go."

She went quiet instantly and raised the reddened eyes on him with surprise.

He straightened back up and took a step back. Gesturing with his head in the direction of his house, he reached a hand out toward her slightly. "Well?"

She rubbed her eyes to dry them, staring at him, dumbfounded. "No letters?"

"No letters," Javert confirmed with a shake of his head. "Come, it's late."

He turned back and before he could walk two steps he heard quick footsteps behind him. Within a second the girl caught up with him, catching his hand with both of hers.

She let go with fear instantly, jumping back, remembering what she was promising just a while ago. Javert rolled his eyes and caught her had before she dropped it down.

He looked back over his shoulder slightly and stopped in his steps. It was dark, but his eyes were keen enough to notice a figure standing in the shadow of the buildings just next to the bridge. He saw the light of the streetlamp reflected in the white hair when the man retreated deeper into the shadow. He remained still for a moment and despite the distance he could feel the other man watching him as well.

Spotting a slight movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked at the girl at his side. She noticed him watching the man across the bridge, and now looked in that direction as well. She raised her hand and waved.

Without waiting to check if the man waves back, Javert turned on his heel and walked away in the other direction. Shofranka trotted at his side, squeezing his hand. She smiled at the dark road ahead.