Behind the Barricades

Doing his duty was simple. It had always been. He knew what he had to do, what was expected of him. Informing about the enemy, count of men, weapons, positions of the guards. It was simple. Child´s play. But somehow he couldn´t believe this anymore.

Things were different now. Very different. And it wasn´t only because of Eponine. Of what he´d seen her do. No, that would be too simple. Something else was overshadowing his mind. Something more heavy than that. And he couldn´t even say what.

When he went back to the barricade he felt strange. As if he knew with certainty that, whatever he did, it would be wrong. Maybe it was because he didn´t really want to be there. Maybe it was because Valjean´s scent was still distracting him – how could it still be there, and so strong, after more than a day – or maybe it was just inattention combined with a royal portion of bad luck, but he was almost glad when the kid cried out, denouncing him. There was a pressure inside him, something that wanted to break lose so desperately, and when this boy shouted his name, he finally could let go.

Eponine kept quiet. She didn´t say a word, didn´t interfere when they dragged him inside the tavern. He fought, not to injure anyone but to get away. And maybe that was the reason why he lost. He didn´t want to fight, he only wanted to get out, away from all of this. He wanted this night to end at last.

But it wouldn´t end. Not without blood. And by now he knew that.

The lights around him went out, quickly and efficiently, and for a while Javert was lost in merciful darkness. But even this darkness would not keep him safe for long. He didn´t know what happened. For all he knew, he was trapped in an unspeakable nightmare of noise, gunshots and shouts. Screaming everywhere. Voices filled with so much anger, and fear and worry, and dignity.

He heard the kid that had denounced him.

"Marius, what are you doing? Marius, no!"

Another shot, one of the last that were fired, but somehow louder than the others. Like thunder in a deep silence, echoing in his mind. Why, he didn´t know.

And then he heard the boy.

"Fall back. Fall back or I blow the barricade."

After that it was quiet. Much quieter than before, as if he was drifting back, deeper into the darkness. But he couldn´t. He couldn´t just retrieve. No matter how much he wanted to. Hiding away in the dark would be simple cowardice. He couldn´t do that.

So he struggled, fought his way back to the surface, to this dark light of fire that shone in the night. The torches of the rioters. Javert could hear them now, talking urgently. Something about rain and gunpowder. But there was only one voice that seemed to stand out for him, much clearer than all the others. A voice that was much weaker though. Broken.

Eponine!

"I kept this from you. It´s from Cosette."

Javert opened his eyes, and through the fog of disorientation he saw a figure, crouched outside the tavern, one hand on a bloody belly, while the rain was falling down on them.

"I´m sorry." Ponine´s voice sounded as if she spoke the last words she´d ever speak.

Two pairs of rough hands dragged Javert off the ground, and in this moment of total helplessness, he began to understand.

"Get her out of the rain." he tried to shout, at the boys tying him up. But his voice was slurred, too weak to be heard. "The water." he managed, while his own stomach was turning. "It´ll kill her."

"The rain will hardly hurt her." one of them said, sadly. He didn´t know. He couldn´t know. And Javert was no one they would listen to.

Please, God. She could live. She could have a chance, if only they´d get her dry. Get her inside, out of the rain.

He couldn´t help. He couldn´t watch. And yet he had no chance to look away. Just tell them, he pleaded in his mind. Tell them to get you dry, for cry out loud.

But Eponine just lay there, as if this was what she had always wanted. She died, died in his arms. The boy that never loved her back. And if he knew, what he was really holding in his arms, her true and undisguised nature, Javert was not sure if he´d still care. If he´d still cry for her or kiss her head when she at last was gone from this world.

Javert closed his eyes. It wasn´t right. None of this was right. And he´d been absolutely powerless to stop any of those things. In this moment, his darkest hour, he felt more alone than ever in his life. And so much sadder than he´d ever thought it possible. Left behind in a world, so black and cold, that nothing could survive in it. Not even a creature that was born half dead, like him.

...

He didn´t know how long he sat there. His legs started to hurt, but he couldn´t just slump down. Each time he did, the rope around his neck cut off his oxygen and his sight blackened, until he straightened again. What these students lacked in experience, they compensated with creativity. It was tiring. It was futile. They´d kill him anyway. And if they wouldn´t, he´d probably catch a lost bullet in the battle to come.

He would die, just like Eponine had died. And frankly, this idea wasn´t even that frightening. At least then it would be over. He was just so exhausted. Why should he keep on struggling? Why not just sit down, and let go? More it wouldn´t take. Resting his legs at last, and just allow his mind to accept the loss of air.

It´s not bad. It´ll help you to sleep. Just sleep. It´s all right. It´s all right.

He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. And all the sudden, he heard voices, agitated yet again. He glanced up, just because he could, and for a moment he believed to dream.

This was impossible. What was he doing here? He´d told him to get out of Paris. Why would he come here. Not for him! How stupid could he be? He didn´t need to rescue him. Javert never asked for rescue. Did this old man truly believe this was a fairy tale? That he could save him from this beast inside him? That he could break his curse by saving him from certain death? It was ridiculous.

And then Valjean cried out.

"Enemy marksman!"

The shots began to roar and for a moment, Javert feared he´d see Valjean get hit, that he would see him fall, and die, the way he´d watched Eponine die.

It didn´t happen. The kids scared off the snipers, and no one behind the barricade got injured. Not this time.

Valjean was eying him again, slyly, assessing the situation. And Javert looked right back at him. What do you want Valjean? Am I supposed to believe you being here is just coincidence? I tried to save your life and now you risk it like that? What for?

But when Valjean turned to the leader of this riot, asking a favor for his help, Javert finally understood.

Of course. He should have known better than that. Of course he´d use his chance, now that it offered itself to him. What better way to get rid of a danger like Javert? At least now he knew that some common sense was still left in this man.

He´d seen him kill a man before his house – or thought he did. He´d seen the blood and what a vampyre could do. It was no big surprise, that he had chosen to protect his daughter by all necessary means. It shouldn´t be. And yet …

But those had been Shanti´s tales, not his. And he had always known that a tale like theirs could only end in blood. Maybe it was even good this way. If Valjean wouldn´t kill him, Javert would have killed him instead, sooner or later.

He could see the bloodlust in Valjean´s eyes when he approached him, the hate and the determination. André had been right. There was no bond between humans and their kind. There never was and never would be.

Javert did not look at him, he simply lacked the strength. And then a hand grabbed his hair, a jerk and he did look up. Into his eyes, so hard he´d never thought it possible. It was the man he´d seen back in the days as 24601. The prisoner, he´d used to harass. The man he´d dreamed of killing in his sleep. And now Valjean was about to take his life instead.

Javert did not resist. He let him drag him up and outside, into the allay. A push brought him to a rest, against the wall, his legs too numb to hold him steady. Even if he´d wanted to, he wouldn´t have the strength to fight.

It was all right. He didn´t want to. Not anymore. And something in Valjean´s eyes was so determined, Javert just couldn´t help. He felt relieved. It was about time to end this game.

"You´ve hungered for this all your life." he spoke, so quietly. "You might not have known it but you did." He nodded at the frown he saw. "Just do it. Take your revenge. Make sure to practice how to kill a creature like me. Cause André is out there, and he will find you."

He looked into those silent eyes, still so distant and unyielding as he drew a knife. Like a predator. Amazing. He´d never taken him for one.

"It´s all right, if you kill with a knife." he agreed, accepted. "But make sure to have some water on you. It weakens us. Just like sunlight. If we get injured, in the sun, or when we´re wet … we can die." The eyes before him still didn´t change. "Just thought that you should know that." He swallowed, awaiting what was inevitable. "You´ll have it easier with me of course."

Valjean only nodded, and brought down the knife. And it was over before Javert had time to flinch.

There was no pain.

"Get out of here." Valjean spoke quietly. And something in Javert went off. What? What had just happened?

"I said, clear out of here." Valjean repeated, shoving him away, and all Javert could think was: No! This was wrong. What was he doing here? He was supposed to …

The gun aiming at him made all objections die in his throat. But only for a moment.

"I should have know." he spoke. "Once a thief, forever a thief. Did your books tell you about this? About a deal you cut with a vampyre? Trading lives, to gain advantages? You will never change, Valjean. I should have known. You should kill me, make sure the danger for your life is gone. Instead you try a silly thing like that. It doesn´t work like that. This is no vampyre fairy tale, it never was!"

He stared at him, trying to glare, as dismissively as he could, weak as he was. But all he received from Valjean was pity. Something gentle.

"You´re wrong." the fugitive spoke. "You´ve always been wrong. I never wanted anything. I´m just a man. No worse than any other man … just because I do not fear you. I never blamed you, for anything. You didn´t hunt to kill me. You´ve done your duty, nothing more. How could I ever hold that against you?"

"I could have killed you." Javert breathed, because this man could not be serious. "Many times."

"But you didn´t." Valjean smiled, unnoticeable. "You never did. And I will let you go. With no conditions or anything at all attached to that."

Javert looked up, unable to respond in any way. And Valjean. He just looked. So hard and uncompromising. How was that possible?

"How will you explain that you´re leaving?" Javert asked, before he knew it. Because Valjean did not seem as if he´d come with him right away. He surely wouldn´t …

"I´m not going anywhere." the old con interrupted his reasoning. And Javert gaped. What?

"I didn´t come here for you." Valjean chuckled ever so slightly about the idea. "There´s something else that I must do."

"The hunters are out there." Javert cried. "Thénardier."

"And you made sure I know how to fight them." Valjean smiled at him again and there was something in his eyes, something Javert couldn´t name. "If I should come out of this alive." he spoke as if he tried to convince him at last. "You will find me in La Rue de l´homme Armee number five."

Javert just couldn´t believe it. He wanted him to come to him? Despite what happened? Despite the blood he had on his hands? Why? Why?

"No doubt our paths will cross again." Valjean´s voice was like thunder in his head, no matter how quiet he spoke.

Javert was in a daze, like a sleepwalker. He saw his eyes, so calm and ready for whatever had to come for him. And again Javert had absolutely no power. Again he was abandoned, send away. And once again, he had no strength to fight this force.

When he at last turned around, it was a mechanical response to an order he had gotten, nothing more. The force of habit. And when the shot echoed in this alley, he barely flinched, sluggish as his mind was. He met Valjean´s gaze, one last time, and he knew what he wanted to say.

For just a moment I held your life in the palm of my hand. Don´t forget this, monsieur vampyre.

And he wouldn´t. If Javert wanted it or not, he´d just made the deal. His life for his. And maybe even more.

He turned again, and this time didn´t stop.

...

He staggered more than he walked. The streets were empty, dark, abandoned. He had to reach the lines. He had to get his men to storm the barricade. Before André or any of his hunters could get there, for a meal.

And somehow, as if this thought had called it, he heard the sounds of something. Eating. Like an animal. He stumbled to a corner, and what he saw made even his blood curl. A creature, bowed over a man, eating on him. Drinking from his throat. And the man that lay there, wore a uniform.

"No." Javert was sure he had not spoken loud. His voice was still too weak. And still the creature stopped drinking as he moved to reach it, and hissed at him like a snake.

Javert walked faster, pins and needles screaming in his legs. But he just had to reach that thing. He had to.

It hissed again, and crouched down, to jump at him. And then there were voices. Men who called out to stop and halt.

Javert reached the dead man, but not the vampyre. The hunter had long disappeared, somewhere into the darkness of the alley.

His legs gave in and he fell down. Footsteps approached him. "Inspector! Oh dear God."

"The barricade." he managed to bring out, ignoring their theories of a killing rioter getting away. "We need to get there. I need to get back there."

"You can´t walk anywhere, inspector." someone objected, instructing another man to call for a doctor.

"I need …" Javert tried to insist, but simply lacked the strength.

"Don´t you worry about that, inspector." the man told him. "The barricades will be taken care of. It already begun. Can´t you hear it?"

And indeed, now that he listened closely, he could hear the distant shots, and shouts of men, echoing through the night.

Valjean. He was among them. On his own, despite the bunch of schoolboys he accompanied.

And that was blissfully the last Javert could think, before his mind was taken by the darkness.

...

When he woke up there was bright daylight shining through a window. For just a moment, he was startled. Where was he? This was wrong. He shouldn´t be here, lying on a bed. He should be out there, in the streets. It should be nighttime.

A hospital. No. The infirmary. How had he gotten here? He struggled up, too fast and promptly his head started to spin. He sat back, fighting the nausea, desperately trying to get over it. What had happened? What had happened since last night?

A sound. Someone entered and when he looked up, he saw the Lieutenant standing there.

"Always in time, right inspector?" the man joked. "How do you feel?"

"What happened?" Javert asked instead.

"You passed out after our men found you."

"No. At the barricades."

For a moment the Lieutenant was quiet. "You did what you could." he then said. "Don´t worry, Gisquet says you´ll be honored for your dedication."

Javert´s head was still spinning, but now it was worsened by his anger.

"What. Happened. At the barricades?" he asked again. And finally he got his answer.

"They got defeated. All of them. It´s over."

He looked up, almost afraid to ask the next question. "Where did you take the prisoners?"

The Lieutenant shook his head. "There are no prisoners." he answered. "No one survived. They choose death over captivity."

Javert closed his eyes. No.

The Lieutenant kept quiet, uncertain, for a while. "I took the liberty to let your uniform be delivered here." he then told him. "Gisquet wants to see you as soon as you´re better. To hear your report. I told him I didn´t know when …" He didn´t finish, only waited until Javert nodded. "Do you want me to do anything?" the young man asked.

"Leave me." was all Javert could muster.

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

He still didn´t look up. The sounds of the young officer´s steps retrieving, was the only reason how he knew he was alone at last. Once again.

He buried his head in his hands, fingers grabbing hair, and for a moment he felt Valjean´s hand again, where he´d grabbed him last night. Back then, when Javert had still believed to die before him.

What did he do? What did he allow to happen? He didn´t want to … He´d wanted him safe. Somewhere … safe from André. And now?

My heart belongs to him, he heard Eponine´s voice, as clear as if she was here with him. There are bonds between us and humans, that are totally out of our control. I know that he is mine. Whether he loves me or not. And I´d rather die than stay away from him.

You did, Ponine. You did die. And so did he. All of you died. And I couldn´t stop it. I couldn´t protect you. I was too weak. I failed. He´s dead, and the promise I gave him … now this is all I have left.

Javert´s eyes found the uniform, the Lieutenant had left for him, and with no other reason but to move on, he started to get dressed, peeling himself out of the old rags he´d worn last night, and into his robe of honor. When he was done he felt empty. This uniform should be his shield. Had been for all those years. It was a second skin to him, and yet today it felt like nothing at all.

...

He started moving, mechanically, leaving the hospital, to walk straight back to the barricades. The blood was still there, the fallen men still lay where they´d fallen. Police men, mostly soldiers. Some of the revolutionaries. But most of them were lined up in the tavern. The very tavern they´d kept him in. Now it was their tomb. A grave for all those young people.

Eponine was among them. And so was the kid, that had denounced him. Dead, just like all the others. Death knew no age, and no difference in heritage either. Ponine. The child. Two vampyres among humans. All of them, lying side by side, united in death. And kneeling there, Javert felt like a fake. The uniform he wore a lie, like a decadent put on mask of cowardice.

He knew it didn´t change anything at all, but after he put his medal on the dead boy´s chest – a medal for bravery and honor – he felt a little lighter. As if at least one little lie had been taken off his chest. This was right. More right, than their deaths had been.

His eyes found Eponine again, and there was a peaceful smile on her lips. Almost impossible to see, and if he hadn´t been there when she died, in the arms of the man she´d loved, he would have overlooked it too.

He couldn´t breath. Something inside this tavern was suffocating him, and he got up, hurrying back out.

Valjean. He had to be here somewhere. No one had survived. He had to be among those bodies. Only he wasn´t. No matter how long Javert looked. And neither did he find the boy. Ponine´s sweetheart. They were both just … gone.

But that couldn´t be. He could smell him. Valjean´s scent. It was still in these streets.

He´d spend the whole night here, of course it was here.

But no. There was more to this smell. It smelled as if Valjean was still around. Hiding maybe. Javert´s senses sped up. If Valjean was still close, he´d find him. He couldn´t not find him. His scent was too clear for him. Even though it seemed covered by something stronger.

The decay? The dead bodies? But no. The smell he had in his nose, was different than what a dead body would radiate. More … filthy.

And that was when he spotted the open sewer. Not more than a drainage really. But something came from there. And now that he listened closely, and trained his senses towards it, he could hear him. Groaning, gasping labored, maybe in pain. And Javert knew, just knew what Valjean was doing. He could smell him now, clearly over all that other stench. And just in this moment Javert caught another scent in there too. Also familiar. And he knew, that he had to act fast.

He jumped up, swirling around, his mind already set on the hunt again. He could sense him, enough to follow his scent through the streets. He was close. Not far away, just beneath his feet. The smell came from the manhole covers, every now and then in the streets. With each of them that he passed, the smell got stronger. Soon. Soon, he´d be there.

He quickened his steps, dodging corner after corner, leaving the barricade behind, and then at last, he smelled it. So much stronger now, than before. Valjean. He was down there, just beneath this cover ahead. He could hear their hearts beating. Two of them. Valjean´s still so strong, still alive, despite all the odds. And Javert started running. Because he knew that one of those beings down there with him, was not alive. Not in the literal meaning of the word.