The promise of a new Morning

When Javert got to the station-house the next morning he felt tired out, but of course he would not let this keep him from doing his duty. Although it made him almost overlook the Lieutenant that crossed his path in the hallway. Almost.

"Beaudin!" he cried, making the man halt, startled. "What the hell are you doing here?" Javert demanded. "It´s only six. Your shift doesn´t end until seven."
The man frowned. "I know that." he said. "That´s why I´m still here."

Javert fumed. Was this man trying to mock him? "Your place is out in the street." he reminded him. "Watching the house of the mayor. Like I ordered you three months ago."

The mouth of the man before him opened, as if he was trying to object, but surely this could only be a joke.

"We … got ordered off the quarter." he informed Javert. "Last night. To patrol the area around the docks."

"Who gave this order?" Javert roared. Who would dare to defy such an important order and take the men he had carefully selected off their task? "Tell me the name." he demanded, and Beaudin gulped.

"The mayor, sir."

Javert was thunderstruck. And Beaudin could see that.

"The order came in only yesterday, when you were already gone." he explained. "As far as I understood it, crime increased in the bay area lately and the mayor wanted us to put up more police presence there, instead of his quarter. I´m sorry, we couldn´t inform you about this until now."

Javert was still completely dumbstruck, but at least this revelation had dulled his anger. What the hell was going on?

"But you know." Beaudin went on, tensed. "It seems the mayor was right. One of our men found a body tonight. A man who´d been stabbed to death as it seems."

Javert listened up. "Really?"

"Yes. The body was hidden in an allay, probably to keep it from being discovered. Had the mayor not ordered to increase police presence at the docks, we might have never found it until spring."

"I see." Javert gulped, struggling to keep his posture. "Are there any leads as to what happened?"

"No, sir. The murder must have happened some time ago. It´s hard to tell due to the cold. We brought the body to the doctor."

Javert nodded. "Good work, Beaudin. Keep me informed about the investigation."

The young Lieutenant halted, startled. "You … you don´t want to investigate it yourself?" he asked.

"I only just heard about the case." Javert held against it but even in his ears it sounded like a weak explanation. So he added: "I expect a report on my desk as soon as possible. Then I´ll see."

"Yes, sir." Beaudin straightened, and Javert simply made his way into his office without another word. After he closed the door behind himself he finally allowed himself to panic.

...

It took him all day to calm down his nerves, and Beaudin´s report to be convinced that, for now, he was safe. There had been no witnesses, and no traces that pointed at him or the mayor in the matter of this man´s death. They didn´t even know the name yet and considering the suspected criminal background of the deceased, they would maybe never know.

Javert settled with a dull, unobtrusive feeling of paranoia. And the worst about it was, that he wasn´t sure where to direct it. Towards his own inspectors, or the mayor.

He had done a good job covering up the tracks of Javert´s mistake. Javert´s crime. He had done so efficiently, stoic and without hesitation. Almost like a professional. Dear God. Javert´s head was spinning just thinking about it. He had to stop this.

Only he couldn´t. When at last the day was coming to an end, the hour of his visit at the factory closing in, Javert felt how his nerves abandoned him, more and more. He´d never been nervous to step through that door, and face the mayor.

Now he was.

Goddammit.

Why had the mayor ordered his men into the area where they had hid the body? He must have known they would find it.

Of course he knew. So why would he do that? It was his idea to keep silent about what happened. To cover it all up.

Because he wanted you distracted, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. He killed two birds with one stone. He took the watchful eyes of the police you placed around his house, off of himself, and put you in the crossfire.

The man Javert had killed. Javert´s crime. His disgrace. His end if it should ever be discovered. Because it was true. He WOULD go to prison for it. And Madeleine knew that. Maybe had known it all along. Maybe …

Javert forced himself to stop. This was ridiculous. This was Madeleine. His superior. His friend. Not a criminal. Surely not an ex-convict. He had to stop with this madness.

When he reached the factory, he spotted the mayor´s carriage. A single horse was bound to a post, right next to it.

"Does the mayor have a visitor?" he asked the guard at the front door.

"No." the man answered, following Javert´s gaze to the horse. "The mayor ordered this horse to be prepared. That´s all I know. I don´t believe he explained his reasons."

Javert couldn´t help the feeling of dread that slowly made his way into his heart. A single horse. Strong and probably fast, ready to go if one needed to leave quickly.

He didn´t comment on it any further and made his way up the stairs. But refusing to comment on something did not make his thoughts stop spinning. This was impossible. It didn´t make sense. No. There had to be another explanation for all the missing pieces, for all the bits in this puzzle that didn´t seem to fit. He was misinterpreting things. He just had to.

He reached the office, the door he´d crossed so many times before. But this time it was different. Very different.

For once, Thomás wasn´t there to guard it. No one was. And when Javert entered, the mayor was bowed over his paperwork, a deep frown between his eyebrows, as if in high concentration. Yet, something told Javert that he was not really reading what was before him.

"Ah, Javert." the mayor greeted, much less friendly than usual. He didn´t look up. "Right on schedule."

Now he looked up. A gaze as hard and watchful as a hawk preparing for attack. "Please, close the door."

Madeleine spoke casually, as if he only wished for the warmth to stay inside, but Javert still felt as if he closed off his own escape path by closing the door. When had they become animals in a fight or flight situation he wondered?

The mayor. He watched him. Not just looked at him. Watched him. Intensely.

His eyes were red, Javert noticed. As if he hadn´t slept last night either.

Dear God, Javert was sweating.

His eyes dropped, drawn to the mayor´s hands. The nails. He was too far away to be sure, but he was still pretty certain he saw dirt under the usually so well-tended nails. As if the man had been digging into earth. Even if Javert had known him to be into gardening, which he didn´t, it was winter time and would not make any sense at all.

A picture of Jean Valjean the murderer intruded Javert´s mind. The monster in human form was bowed over his victims, hands still red with blood and he dug into the earth to bury the evidence of his crimes. Only the face Javert saw when the monster glanced over his shoulder, was not that of 24601. It was Madeleine that stared at him, with pure madness and raving bloodlust.

This is ridiculous. The dirt under Madeleine´s nails is nothing but coincidence. You misinterpret. Stop this. Stop this before you drive yourself over the edge and into madness. People with such paranoia are held in asylums.

"Well, Javert." the mayor addressed him, and Javert forced himself to focus. "Your report?"

Javert straightened his back, and came straight to the point.

"They found the body, Monsieur." he spoke and instantly flinched at his slip. "A … body. Monsieur." he corrected.

The face of the mayor seemed to soften a bit. Or maybe it was only Javert´s imagination.

"I see." Madeleine spoke and from one moment to the next, Javert saw the worry he was used to see in his friend´s face. "What did they make of it?" he asked, and if anyone else would have heard their conversation it would have sounded just like this. A superior asking for more details. To Javert it was more. So much more.

"It appears to be a murder. The report I got concludes that the victim was most likely a criminal, who got killed by another." Javert closed his eyes for a moment, grateful that the words fell so easily the longer he talked. "The doctor examined the body and he believes he´s been dead for a week or longer. The cold makes it hard to estimate, he writes."

"I see." Madeleine was listening.

"No witnesses were found." Javert went on. "Yet. And the name of the victim is at this point unknown to the police."

"Understand."

Javert wanted to say more but this time he waited. So eventually Madeleine spoke.

"So it seems unlikely to find out … what happened to this poor man. Is it?"

"At this point it seems so." Javert agreed. "Of course the investigation will continue."

"Will you be in charge of it?" Madeleine inquired, and from one moment to the next, Javert´s posture was gone.

"I … I can´t do that." he managed to get out, feeling cold even in this warm room. "I … I couldn´t …Monsieur. If I would …"

"Understand." Madeleine stopped him, resolutely. "Of course, it makes sense to entrust a case like that to another capable inspector. You can´t investigate all cases yourself, inspector. Of course."

Javert only nodded, grateful actually for the explanation. It sounded more than reasonable, even to him.

Madeleine nodded back at him, and there was something in his eyes, something Javert could not name. But it seemed to brand into his memory that he had gotten away only by a hair´s breadth. And that even that could change again, very quickly, if he only did so much as make a wrong move.

The same time it encouraged him to continue, to keep up the facade, as if indeed others were present to hear and see them. And so he did. He gave his report, just like he always did, and when he was done, Madeleine looked as if he hadn´t heard a single word he said. If he would have asked Javert to repeat his report, the inspector would have forgotten what he´d just said as well. Was he going mad after all?

Behind his desk, Madeleine interlaced his fingers, smiling at him. "So." he said. "How about your other project?"

It took Javert a moment to catch up with him. And he still needed Madeleine´s next question, to really know what he meant.

"Found what you were looking for?"

Javert dropped his gaze, a little too fast, and stared at the floor. The picture of the evidence box suddenly invaded his mind. And no matter what he did, it refused to be blocked out. He almost believed that all he had to do was glance aside, into the corner beside the fireplace and the box would be sitting there, not in his apartment but here, in Madeleine´s office.

"No." he forced out the answer and had to clear his throat. "No, I didn´t."

Madeleine raised his brows, teasingly, like he sometimes did. But today the friendly teasing was show. Javert could tell from the hard watchful look in Madeleine´s eyes.

"Well, that´s a shame." the mayor spoke, smirking at last, but even that smirk looked put on. "I know how much you hoped to solve this case in one night, where the entire police force of France has failed for years." The spark in his eyes would have looked like a friendly tease to an outsider. But to Javert it was simply terrible. Terrible enough to scare him, and he had no idea why.

"Yes, Monsieur le Maire." he rasped, hoarsely, and tried unsuccessfully to avoid his mayor´s gaze.

"Come now, Javert." Madeleine´s smile became a little more real. "You´re not really disappointed, are you? You didn´t fail. You never really expected to be able to solve a case that old, did you? Did you?"

The last question sounded as if the mayor would be truly surprised if Javert would claim now that yes, he had expected to solve this case. But that would have been ridiculous. Of course it would be. Even Javert was aware of that. And no, of course he hadn´t expected to find the convict 24601 – the man that was NOT Madeleine, mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer – just by looking at the evidence that was years old. That wasn´t the reason why he had asked to be allowed to see it. He had asked for it to convince himself how ridiculous his suspicions had been. Those crazy ideas that had not let go of him ever since he´d seen the mayor hurl this dagger into the ocean. So much farther into the distance than one would expect it from a man his age.

Javert forced himself to stop and straightened his back. He had hoped to be put at rest, and instead he´d accomplished the exact opposite.

"No, sir." he spoke. "I did not expect to solve that case."

Again he met the watchful gaze of the mayor. A gaze of waiting, and estimating. It felt like hours until Madeleine finally smiled at him.

"Then I dare to say, you managed to chase away this ghost from the past, didn´t you?"

Javert took a breath. "I … I don´t know … sir." he spoke. An honestly he maybe should have spared, for now the smile on the mayor´s face was gone. Back was this estimating, scrutinizing gaze. As if the man tried to read in Javert´s very soul.

"What else are you looking for?" he wanted to know, and once again, Javert could only answer with:

"I don´t know. Sir."

For a moment Madeleine seemed in a loss for words. He appeared to be thinking.

"You have to stop doing this, Javert." he decided at last, and his voice sounded again like that of the man Javert knew. Gentle, and understanding.

"I know." the inspector agreed and his own voice sounded alien to him.

Madeleine rose from his seat, to walk around his desk. Javert had no chance to avoid his gaze any longer, as he stopped only inches before him. There was that smile again. So gentle. So captivating. So familiar after all this time. Madeleine. The man he´d sworn to protect and serve. His mayor.

"We all get haunted by the past once in a while, Javert." he spoke. "But we mustn´t allow it to linger."

Javert gulped. "Yes, Monsieur le Maire."

The man before him reached out, and placed a hand on Javert´s shoulder. A gesture that felt the same time comforting and claiming. And Javert had no idea if this was good or bad.

"It´s all right, Javert." Madeleine said. "Just let it go. You felt the need to look back and you did. And now … you can just let it go. You belong here now. Not to a past that is long gone. This convict 24601 is dead. This is the reason no one ever found him. If you´re honest with yourself, you will know this is true."

Javert stared into the eyes before him, so gentle, and he just couldn´t look away.

"Forget the past, Javert." Madeleine repeated, his hand squeezing Javert´s shoulder affectionately, and as if this squeeze had injected it into him, Javert suddenly felt that he wanted nothing but to believe Madeleine. His mayor.

"Yes, Monsieur le Maire."

And at last the smile he saw was real.

...

At the house Fantine looked over her shoulder, to check the hallway. Neither Marianne nor Clementine were nearby. No danger of being discovered by sneaking into the bedroom of the master.

Quickly she slipped inside, and closed the door behind herself. Quietly.

Her heart was pounding. It didn´t make any difference at all what she had done – or allowed – last time she´d been here, it was still forbidden land. Now maybe even more than ever. The temple of their master. And Fantine had no idea why she had felt the need to come here today. From all the times in the world, from all the places in the world. But she had been drawn here, as if some inner voice had forced her. As if there was some magical revelation waiting for her in here, some secret to be discovered by her and her alone.

Stupid. Simply ridiculous. What would she hope to find? There was nothing different. Everything looked exactly the same. Just like that night when …

She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting the tears. This was ridiculous. She shouldn´t be here. Forcing her luck. She had done that once, and she had lost. Lost.

The image of the bloody shirt invaded her mind. No matter how she wished to make this thought disappear, this knowledge go away. She simply knew, without a doubt. Madeleine had killed someone. Or he covered for this other man, Javert. In any case she had blackmailed a man who was capable of accepting another man´s death, maybe even causing it, and she had lost this game. Lost!

She grabbed the door handle, determined to leave this room and never return – except if he demanded her here – and that was the moment her eyes fell to the ground. Beneath the bed, something lay crumbled on the floor. Paper.

Fantine couldn´t help herself. She had to see. And as she moved closer, cautiously as if this piece of paper was a snake that could attack her if she made a wrong move, she suddenly realized what she really saw there.

That was no paper.

It was money. A bank note, and just as she realized this, she saw more on this floor that shouldn´t be there. She knew, they had cleaned this room only a day before. But there it was. Dirt. Earth, from Madeleine´s shoes. And even deeper underneath the bed, in the shadow, there was a shovel, short, like a gardener would use it for small patches.

Fantine had heard him last night, leaving the house, very late after every light had been turned out. She hadn´t been able to sleep and when the steps had passed her door, she had known who it was. Madeleine´s steps were unmistakable. The slight limp she could hear even through a closed door.

He had left the house in the middle of the night, just like in that faithful night when he had returned with the inspector, secretly bringing the man to his room, after they had done … something.

Fantine had not dared to think about what he could be doing this time. But she hadn´t been able to find any sleep either. And at last she´d heard him return. Hours later.

Now she saw the remnants of his nightly trip right in front of her. And the picture of a black leather bag came back to her. He had had it yesterday, when he came home. Nothing he had on him when he´d left home in the morning.

Seeing the crumbled bank note before her now, she guessed to know what had been inside. And regarding the dirt and little shovel beneath the bed, she realized with dread what he had done with it.

Her head was spinning, and she didn´t even realize that she´d backed up until her elbow collided with the wardrobe. What was going on? Why would he do such a thing? Hiding money in the woods? Like a criminal preparing to go on the run.

Dear God. Was it that? Was it?

Was the police on his tracks? Were they in the process of finding out what happened that night? Dear God. If Madeleine ran, what would happen to them? To her and Cosette. If he was gone …

No. No! That just couldn´t happen. It mustn´t. As much as she feared and hated him, he was essential for her and Cosette´s survival. Fantine felt her head spinning. In fear, in desperation, panic. That couldn´t happen. Never. Her daughter. Please, dear God, what can I do?

Outside she heard a sound. Someone was upstairs. If they found her in here …

She stopped panicking and moved on instinct. Like a cat she jumped forward, grabbed the banknote and swept the dirt out of sight, deeper under the bed. Later she would return and clean up the rest. Hide the shovel and erase all the traces Madeleine had left last night, probably due to exhaustion.

She was out of the door, as swiftly and silent, as she had entered.

...

When Madeleine came home this evening, he was tired. Everyone of his staff could see that, and so it was no big surprise when he went to his room right away, seemingly to rest and maybe go to bed early. What no one saw was that he indeed went to his bed. But not to lie down. Instead he dropped to his knees in front of it – not for prayer, not tonight – and it was only because he was really tired, that he needed a moment to realize something was wrong. Something was not as he had left it. Because the floor beneath his bed was clean. Too clean.

His heartbeat sped up. He leaned down deeper, and peeked under the bed. The shovel! It was gone.

A bolt of adrenalin went through him. And just in this moment someone entered his room.

He spun around unable to believe what was happening, and when he saw her standing there, something inside of him just snapped.

Like a predator he jumped at her, grabbing her throat before she had even time to flinch or say anything. The thud when her back hit the door must have been heard all over the house, but in this moment he just didn´t care.

"What did you do?" he demanded to know. "TELL ME!"

Her mouth opened and closed like that of a fish, unable to speak. Unable to breath. He knew he choked her too much but he just couldn´t let go. His fingers flexed, yearning to close even more around her neck, to dig his nails into the soft flesh.

"What did you do?" he asked again, snarling this time. "If you only do so much as dare to …"

A sudden pain shot through his lower body and his voice abandoned him, as hot pain blinded his senses. Through the pain he heard Fantine gasp loudly, coughing and panting. Before he had a chance to jump back at her, she forced out some words.

"I cleaned up." she coughed, one hand around her throat. "So no one would see the mess."

Madeleine stared at her, unable to compute. All his senses were still screaming at him to grab her again, to make her stop talking and silence her. But there was something in her eyes, something that held him back.

"What are you talking about?" he brought out, ready to resume his choke-hold of her should she give the wrong answer.

"I cleaned up." she repeated, her voice as feral as his, her eyes piercing and unafraid. THAT … That was the spark he´d seen once. The spark he´d missed for so long.

"I swept away the dirt." she told him. "I cleaned your boots … and I brought the shovel into the shed, where it belongs. Before anyone could find the mess you left and start asking questions."

Her breathing was evening out by now. She seemed to be waiting for a response, but all Madeleine could do was stare at her. Eventually he realized that he was still bowed over, and slowly rose to his full height again. The pain was still there but it was dull now. Nothing compared to the panic in his mind.

"What did you do?" he asked again, stupidly, and the change in her eyes was more than enough for him to know just how stupid he must sound.

"I just told you." she said, and of course she did. But still. He still didn´t understand.

"Why?" he rasped, and only a second later he had his answer. Again he was at her, pushing her into the door. Fantine gasped, startled at the sudden relapse. "If you try to blackmail me again, you better prepare yourself for some pain." he hissed. "Because this time I´m not playing any games, woman."

"I´m not trying to …" she claimed. "That´s not why I did it. I swear. I – I don´t want to …"

"Then what do you want?" he tightened his grip again, but not enough to cut off her air.

Her eyes. There was pain in them but no fear. Not from him at least. He just couldn´t understand.

"I want to help you." she said. Nothing more. And the look in her eyes was just so pleading. Pleading for him to believe her.

"Help me how?" he demanded, and Fantine shook her head, as if the question itself was unnecessary.

"However I must." her eyes were open, not wavering at all. "If anyone should ask where you were, at any time, day or night. Be it police … or anyone else … I will tell them that you were with me. Whatever they ask me, whatever YOU told them … I will back you up. I will affirm it, prove you right and above every reproach. You won´t have to fear anything. You understand? Anything at all. I swear it by the life of my daughter."

Madeleine looked at her, and didn´t know where he was any longer. He heard her words but barely understood the meaning. His head was spinning, his hand slowly releasing her neck on its own. What on earth was happening here?

"Why?" he heard himself ask. "Why are you doing this?"

And her answer was clear, and unmistakable. "You know why."

She said it with that same determined, piercing gaze. That fearless gaze, the gaze of a woman who was ready to do everything that was necessary to protect what was most important to her. And seeing this gaze, Madeleine did understand. He understood it very well.

"How much do you even know?" his voice kept asking the questions he believed to be only in his mind. Because, dear God, that was the one and only question that really mattered. Because if she knew … who else could? How many? "What do you know?"

"Truthfully?" she asked, and he laughed. Was that a real question?

There was something in her eyes, something that understood his silent urge. The words he didn´t speak. And it made the words she said next count so much more.

She said: "I know nothing."

"Nothing? Are you trying to mock me?"

"That´s what all this is about, right? So what do you want? It´s what I´m supposed to tell the police. So stop complaining and be glad that I won´t even have to lie. The less I know the better for my credibility, right? Right?"

He walked in on her yet again, his hand reaching for her neck. But other than before he only needed her reaction, the look in her eyes, in order to know what he must know so desperately. She was still defiant, still not afraid. And even more important, still convinced about what she´d offered him. Dear God could such things even be?

"You really mean that, don´t you?" he found and Fantine raised her chin, just an inch.

"Yes." she said, nothing more. "So do we have a deal?"
He stepped back from her, as if the mere contact with her could disgrace his purity. The biggest joke of it all.

"So there it is." he said, smirking humorlessly. "A blackmail yet again. One service for another. How fitting."

The reaction he saw could have been one of hurt pride, but at this point he was way beyond caring. Fantine straightened her back, composing body and face.

"If you insist on seeing it like that."

"I do."

Again this expression of startled pride. But this one was gone just as quickly as the first. She nodded.

"All right." she stepped forward, unwavering and for a change he was the one who felt intimidated. "I cover your story … in whatever way I have to. To save this pathetic lie you call a reputation, this lie you call your life … and in exchange you make sure that me and my daughter are taken care of. Even in case something should happen to you."

This last thought seemed to have occurred to her just then, but – he had to give her that – she sold it perfectly, as if it all had been planned from the beginning. She nodded as if she´d come to the same conclusion. "You´ll figure out a way to ensure that. I´m sure you will."

He shook his head, laughing, but it was a nervous laughter.

"If I do that, you have no reason to cover me any longer." He could see the fear return to her eyes, the uncertainty. "You wouldn´t need me any longer if you were covered as good as you just described it. No, Fantine. Not like that."

The uncertainty vanished, behind a mask of conviction, and she took yet another step closer to him. "You´ll figure something out." she repeated. "Something that´ll satisfy both of our needs." Her eyes dropped, as if something on his chin had suddenly drawn her attention, as if this something required deep thinking, but only for a moment. When she looked up at his eyes again, she seemed to have found her answer. Whatever the question had been. She was smiling. "I´m sure you will."

And Madeleine could say nothing in response, could not even move, not even to grab her throat again, or any other part of her, to even out this score. All he could do was stand there and look, like a frozen statue, while she smiled at him, so disgustingly arrogant. And then she just left. Without a word she opened the door, stepped out and closed it.

Madeleine was left behind, still immobilized in the silent room. And the silence was devastating.

...

He was not the only one trapped in silence that night. Javert had needed hours to finally work through his tangled mind, to reach a conclusion he could make his peace with. The conclusion that said, without a doubt, that he had been an idiot, and that all his suspicions had only come about due to confusion and some minor portion of idiocy.

Of course Madeleine was not an escaped convict living under a fake name. Of course Javert had been mistaken. And that had been the reason why he hadn´t asked anymore – even though he´d wanted to – why Madeleine had ordered the police patrols away from his house.

He could have. But he had made a decision, to believe and trust his mayor, and believe and trust demanded that he also trusted him to have a good reason for the things he´d done. A reason he would explain to Javert when he was ready.

And Javert would wait until he was. He did not want to poke into this misunderstanding anymore than he already did. It was over. They had talked about it and Javert had seen his mistake. It was behind them. Madeleine was right. The past should be left in the past. And that was what Javert intended to do. Until he suddenly remembered something. A tiny detail, minor really, enough to be overheard and forgotten right away if the mind was merciful. But Javert´s mind had never been merciful. Not to him.

And so he remembered. In a moment when he least expected it. Just as his mind wanted to slip over the barrier between the waking world and Morpheus´ realm. And that memory made him jump back up, out of his slowly deepening slumber, his legs swirling out of bed before he knew it. Because something about this tiny detail was not so tiny after all. No, sir, not a bit.

Madeleine´s words echoed in his mind again, as if it was only a few minutes ago since he really spoke them: "It´s all right, Javert. Just let it go. This convict 24601 is dead. This is the reason no one ever found him. If you´re honest with yourself, you will know this is true."

True words. Calming words. Reassuring and inspiring trust. And oh, Javert had wanted to trust him. So much that in this moment he had not realized his mistake. The one thing that shouldn´t have been there. But now he did. Now he saw it. And it made his blood run cold with sudden dread.

Because Madeleine was not supposed to know the number of this convict Jean Valjean.