Author's Note: the next few chapters won't really have intervention from other Les Mis characters, they're kind of like a side-plot thing that will happen. Don't worry though, I tried y hardest to make them good! Review if you liked it please! Thank you guys so much for reading, all of your encouraging reviews and follows and favourites have made my day each and every day :)

A month had gone by and the town had selected a new mayor. A Monsieur Bernard- well off, shrewd… the usual to be expected. Gradually, the town seemed to be getting back to normal and the whispers began clearing up. The only people who seemed to be gloomy about the exposition of the Monsieur Madeleine were the poor and Elisabet. She understood now why Javert was chasing him and why it was such a compulsive thing for him, but nonetheless he had been a good man to her. Reformed, kind, and doing no harm to anyone. Everett agreed with her to some degree, but assumed that if everyone else said he was a bad man, then he must have been.

She and Javert had not spoken of that night since it happened, and his constant work and meetings with the new mayor had prevented her from seeing him much. They had met up a few times however, running into each other on the street or Javert walking with her to her home while on his patrol. She was happy that nothing that she had told him changed how he went about talking with her; it would not have been as fun for Elisabet if all he did was treat her with pity and caution.

"Does anyone ever call you by your first name?" she asked on one such occasion.

"No."

"But why not?"

"It is unprofessional."

"Do you ever forget what it is?"

"Yes, frequently."

"Really?!"

"No."

"Then why did you say yes?"

"Because idiotic questions warrant idiotic answers."

"You should tell me your first name."

"No."

"Why not? We're friends!"

"I have no time for friends. If I was on duty among my subordinates, or worse yet, my superiors, how would it look if a child came running up to me calling me by my first name?"

"Donkeys could take a lesson from you in stubbornness."

"Are you this rude to everyone, or just people who can arrest you?"

"Funny joke."

"I do not make jokes."

Despite her constant pestering, Javert decided that Lilybet's company was not entirely awful. She did her best to annoy him, it was true, but in the back of his mind he always held the memory of the night they shared in the church, of the secrets they exchanged. Even though things were the same as they had been, there was a sense of closeness between them that Javert had given up trying to fight. She did care about him. It was a fairly new concept to him -a somewhat intimidating one at that- but he was not about to let a simple emotion get the best of him. She had snuck past his defenses and seen his true self, but it was not as bad as he had thought it would be. In fact, sometimes he found himself wishing they would have another moment, that he could divulge more of himself. The ice within him had started to melt and his memories of childhood attacked him more frequently now. The sound of a door slamming or glass breaking made him cringe ever so slightly as the frightened child within him shook with the fear of a beating or attack. There were times when he had to shut himself in his office alone, the darkness closing in and showing him images of his childhood, of the convicts harassing him and the guards who would frequently stop it when they threatened him, of the hard and brutal work he had to go through to prove himself to the military recruiters that he was strong and that he could be trusted to be removed from prison and be allowed to serve among them.

"What's wrong?" Javert had been silent for a few minutes now; Elisabet looked up at him and he had the same vague look as when he was talking about his past. His eyes seem to be seeing into another place, a darker time. She placed her hand on his arm and he looked down at her as if awoken from sleep.

"Why should anything be wrong?"

"Don't lie, what's wrong?"

"I was merely remembering."

"About what?"

"It is none of your concern."

"Yes it is." She said it so matter-of-factly that Javert did not know whether to be comforted or offended.

"It is not something I wish to share at the moment."

She gave him a frustrated sigh. "Fine then." Thinking to herself for a moment, she asked him, "Mayor Madeleine- I mean, Valjean, is he… is he dead?"

To her surprise, Javert answered her. "Officially, yes."

"And unofficially?"

This time he hesitated. "I… I believe that he escaped. The prostitute he saved, she had a daughter. He stole her from an innkeeper and his wife and is hiding away somewhere. I know I glimpsed him running." Javert remembered that night well; he had stayed up all night on the roof of the church, praying to God above that he would give him the strength to find him one day. Javert never felt alone with the stars. Most nights when he was cold and alone as a child, he would stare up at the stars. They were his friends, each one. They were warm and always watched over him when there was no one else, each having a name and a story. It was a silly childhood fancy, he knew, but to him they were real. They were the only ones in his life that stayed constant and unwavering, forever keeping watch. He had hoped that when he died, he would join them up in the sky, shining and lighting the way for justice and good.

"Will you be going after him, then?" Elisabet asked, somewhat sadder than she wanted it to sound.

"Unfortunately, the law forbids it. I have been assigned as Inspector of this town, and chasing what the record considers a ghost goes against my duty. I will find him one day. I will bring him to justice."

"I know you will." She nodded gloomily as the good Mayor's warm smile and the kind wrinkles about his eyes swam before her mind.

"Lilybet! Are you bothering the Inspector again? Have you gotten into trouble?" to her surprise, Elisabet's father swung the door open just as she reached for it.

"He was just helping me home." She answered, going into the doorway.

Javert greeted Monsieur Barbier with a bow, his face solemn and implacable.

"Well see that you do not distract him from his duty. Inspector! I was planning on speaking with you anyway. Have you the time?"

"A moment, perhaps, Monsieur. Is there a problem? Javert will take care of anybody threatening the peace of this town." Javert answered. Elisabet stood in the doorway as her father walked out to face him. What business did he have with him? What was going on?

"Yes, yes, I know. You are wonderful at your job." Her father smiled his most businesslike smile. Even Javert was visibly confused at this point. Monsieur Barbier continued, "You see, I have been looking for a way to thank you ever since I heard that you were the one who brought my dear daughter to the hospital and saved her life. A weighty deed deserves a weighty reward. So, my late wife's brother is sending my niece up from the country for a week- that is, I know that you are a bachelor, and with your status and renown, an eligible one at that. She has agreed to meet with you-"

Elisabet could not resist a bust of laughter. "Which one, the fat one or the goose?!"

Her father shot her a warning look before continuing in a tone that seemed to forbid her from interrupting. "I have told her much about you and your efforts of cleaning up this town; I must say she is impressed. She is twenty years of age, her name is Clarice. She is on leave from university in Paris."

Elisabet's heart dropped. Clarice? Clarice was everything she wasn't. Refined, worldly, graceful… She was tall and willowy, with fiery hair and large, clear, light blue eyes. Elisabet did not know her much because she was always away at one finishing school or another, but she remembered her being very haughty and proper, and Elisabet was always jealous of her natural beauty and charm. Elisabet was the child who preferred to be outside playing with the boys and animals, or otherwise reading history books in her room or singing to herself. Clarice could play the harp, read in Latin, and write poetry. She was a lady in every sense of the word.

But why Javert? She wouldn't like Javert. He was reserved, almost shy at times. He was so solemn and harshly realistic. Clarcie belonged with a philosopher or a musician or a duke. Elisabet could not figure out why she cared so much, or why this was making her head spin.

Javert noticed the sudden look of panic on Elisabet's face. As soon as her father uttered her cousin's name she stared at him as if he had slapped her, and now it seemed she had gone into a shell just as Javert had earlier.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" he asked, looking at her curiously. She turned red at his attention, standing mute.

"She's just playing her games." Her father dismissed. "How about it?"

Javert saw no other option other than agreeing. He had no intention of looking for a woman for himself, he had no time for illusions such as love. Nevertheless, he knew what was expected of men his age. Marriage. Family. Besides, it would be incredibly rude to refuse a reward, even if it was not one he would have chosen for himself. Did he really want it, though? He had resigned himself to life as a lone wolf. He did not need anybody by his side; he had no intention of sharing his past or his life with anybody else. It would complicate his life. But what could he do? Displeasing an important man of the town could reflect negatively on him. He decided that one meeting would not hurt. It was his duty, nothing more.

But why did she look so upset? Was this cousin bad in some way? Did she hurt her?

"I would be honored, Monsieur" he said, as formally as possible.

"Excellent!" Monsieur Barbier clapped his hands together. "I will go get my letter of acceptance; you just have to sign it. Wait a moment." He hurried back into the house and Elisabet and Javert were left alone.

"Is she not likable?" Javert asked. He did not doubt that Lilybet would be happy if he decided to settle down into something. She had her happiness with Everett, if she thought he was less lonely then she would have more peace of mind.

Elisabet looked at him and unintentionally pouted. "She's perfect!" she exclaimed, perhaps more childlike than she had hoped. When Javert just stared at her in innocent confusion, she continued. "She a perfect lady, she plays the hard, speaks Latin, doesn't get dirty, always wears dresses and is just all around beautiful and graceful and perfect."

"Is that bad?" Javert was honestly confused. When it came to his job, Javert could smell a criminal from a mile away. When it came to women, well… he never had the chance in his life to court one, nor had it ever been a priority of his. Some were menacing and treacherous, willing to sell their bodies for a small profit. Others seemed to be dolls, never getting a scratch or a spot of dirt on them, never out of a dress or speaking out of line. And then there was Lilybet, who perplexed him to no end.

Elisabet sighed. He was ignorant as a schoolboy. "No, it's not. She's just… no. Have fun, I'm sure she's everything you'd ever want. Thank you for walking me." She smiled and glumly walked into the house. Why did it have to be Clarice, of all people? Marguerite was loud and obnoxious and fat as a cow. Lilia was scrawny and long-necked and vain. But Clarice did not have a single fault. Surely she should be happy for Javert, but for some reason, she couldn't find it in her. She chided herself for being so selfish. Clarice would make him happy, she knew it. Clarice would learn his first name.

She glanced at the clock with a start. Elisabet had almost forgotten that she was going to a café with Everett in thirty minutes. She decided that she would call on Gretchen on the way and invite her. For some reason she did not feel like being alone with him that night.