The next day, Genevieve Chastain was released. Javert stood, shrouded in a silent anger which all could sense, as a gendarme loosened her shackles. Genevieve, Danniell, Javert, a group of curious gendarmes, and the new mayor of Montreuil-sur-mer crowded the inspector's precipitously small office. Danniell anxiously clasped Genevieve's hands, her eyes wide, but her face one unfeeling mask. The new mayor – a shady yet trusted and loved man – looked on earnestly at the two young people. Javert was facing the two, although he could not stop himself from stealing small glances at the mayor. The man seemed so familiar, but the inspector could not place him. He reminded himself just how much the people of Montreuil-sur-mer esteemed him, quickly pushing aside any sudden doubts.

"There," the mayor proclaimed as the last piece of the shackles was removed. "I apologize for such a misunderstanding. I hope you two can be relieved and go back to your normal lives. If I had been notified sooner, I would have stopped this fault earlier. But, no matter – Mademoiselle Chastain, you are released."

"Thank you, Monsieur Mayor," Genevieve answered gleefully.

"Yes, thank you," Danniell added. "I did not mean to bother you, as I know you are very busy molding Montreuil into a productive and vigorous town."

"It is of no consequence, I assure you. My job is to answer to the people."

The mayor turned his soulful brown eyes onto Javert. The inspector returned his stare, his light eyes seeming to reflect his inner tumult of emotions. He felt as if the mayor could see right through him, but held his gaze.

"Inspector Javert, I am disappointed that this has happened."

Javert gave a small bow out of courtesy. "Monsieur Mayor, may I admit that Mademoiselle Chastain was indeed outside the perimeter of the law when the gendarmes arrested her."

The mayor sighed, "Look at these two young people, Inspector Javert. Both are just trying to make a living. If Mademoiselle Chastain has stolen, well, let the item be returned and let her theft be forgiven. Life can prompt people to commit crimes."

"But what she did was not right," Javert interjected.

"Just let these two youngsters be," the mayor replied, raising a contemplative eyebrow toward the inspector. He looked over at the two. "They will be righteous citizens from now on."

Danniell smiled weakly. "Oh yes, Monsieur Mayor."

"Thank you," Genevieve added quietly.

"Shall we leave, dearest?" Danniell offered his arm.

Javert observed Genevieve as she hesitantly reached out and uncomfortably took his arm. She looked as if the boy had just asked her if she wanted to lick the horrid coat he was carrying over his other arm. She did not appear to be a young woman just rescued by a cherished lover. In fact, to Javert, she looked as if she were being arrested again. He had been so concerned with her demeanor; he did not even realize his eyebrows were furrowed and that he was biting the inside of his bottom lip pensively. Only when Genevieve turned and glanced back at him did he realize his own expression. The door of his office slammed shut, the sound stirring him into contemplation. His mind completely occupied, he did not even notice the mayor's presence for the rest of his goodwill visit.

Outside, Danniell possessively held her hand. Neither spoke as they walked out of the station. The storm had settled for good over Montreuil-sur-mer, soaking, overflowing, drowning. The town had not seen the sun in over twenty-four hours. Holding the door open with his body, Danniell handed Genevieve his coat to shield herself from the downpour. She stared at his proffered coat, before her eyes roamed up to his hopeful face. She gave a snort and snatched the article of clothing. He motioned his arm for her to exit first. Genevieve stepped out, the chilly wind slapping her in the face - it was as if she had returned to life after being contained in a tomb. She thrust the coat over her head and waited for him.

The door of the constabulary building shut. Danniell slipped to her side.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

Her voice was so gruff, so angry, that Danniell thought he felt his heart stop. He gazed at her in absolute shock. "What?"

"I did not need to be saved. I was handling myself. Why do you constantly feel the need to meddle? Meddle, meddle, meddle!" Genevieve growled. "Now I'm humiliated. I look terrible for needing to be spared by some young man. I am a thief! I am a thief! What do not you understand about that? In a few weeks – or even days – I'll probably be arrested again. Monsieur, you are a complete idiot."

When utterly infatuated, it is quite difficult for one to become angered. Life is viewed through rose-tinted glasses. Even when furious, Danniell still believed Genevieve to be beautiful. He studied her features rather than listened to her words. To him, she was not mad with him. She was simply mad with her entire situation. Her situation being that she had to steal to live. He loved her. He pitied her.

Danniell grabbed her hands, holding them tightly. "Genevieve, stop. If you would only acknowledge my love for you, we could be together. I could support you. You wouldn't have to steal. Did you see what I did for you back there? I lied for you. And trust me; I would have done so much more."

Genevieve yanked her hands out from his. "You are just like that imprudent inspector! You think you know me. Yet you only know about me through paper!"

"I am nothing like him," Danniell retorted. "I love you, Genevieve."

She handed his coat back, pushing it into his chest. "Listen monsieur, I acknowledge the fact that you have gotten me out of jail. But I am not thankful."

Danniell clutched his coat like a drowning man clinging to a piece of wood. His once unfailing expression of contentment changed into a hardened mask; his eyes remained bright and hopeful. "Why?" He managed to choke out.

Genevieve placed a hand on his shoulder, before her small hand swept up to his cheek. She stroked the smooth skin there with her thumb. "I am sorry monsieur, but you need to understand that I cannot be with someone like you."

"Because I am not some toughened gamin?"

Genevieve released his face, her own having become a crumpled onset of emotion – anger, irritation, confusion. She just wanted to slap him, make him realize his love for her was a mistake. She could not love him because she did not want to ruin him. Genevieve felt as if she were struggling to keep a closet full of catastrophe and debt closed, and to love the young man was to swing the door wide open.

"Go home," she barked. "I do not want to see you around, entendu?"

Danniell opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but stopped himself. He quickly slipped his coat on and headed down the isolated street. Genevieve watched him go, slightly relieved that she had both gotten rid of the pesky young man and kept him out of danger. Although she had not realized just how alone she was until he was completely out of sight. Behind her, the constabulary building loomed, silent and imposing.

Without another thought, Genevieve ran down the street, making sure to go the opposite way of the young man. She wanted to get away from that damned building and the damned inspector which it contained.

I realize this chapter was quite short. I simply thought it best not to linger on Danniell. He is another OC, and I don't want a whole bunch roaming around this story. Even though I believed him to be a necessary element. I want to (and will) get back to Genevieve and Javert. As always, thank you.