Author's Note: Hey everyone, I'm sososo sorry for the long wait, I've just been experiencing major writer's block. This chapter may be a bit slow/fluffy, but I promise it'll pick up from here! Sorry about it if it seems a little blah compared to the usual :( I've gotten a question about my update schedule: with the exception of this chapter, updates should take about 3 to 5 days.

PS: I have a little bit of a fluff chapter sort of ready for some point- would that be something you want, or should I not dawdle on little things? Let me know! I'll go with the majority opinion.

PPS: I just want you all to know that all of the reviews and whatnot have meant so much. They've really been a big part of what's kept me going with writing this, and I love hearing that you guys are liking this. Thank you so much for reading and again, enjoy and let me know if you like it!

PPPS: WAIT ONE MORE THING I FORGOT I got a request for a ship name for Javert and Lilybet... my answer would be that that is totally awesome that people want to do that and I'm incredibly flattered, and feel free to find a ship name! Though my personal favorites of what I've been presented with are Jilybert and Lilyvert


Several hours had passed and Elisabet still couldn't hold a train of thought without it leading to Javert. Customers would come in and some regulars had even asked her if something had gone amiss because she seemed "a bit hazy". Nevertheless, the day crawled by and when she heard a knock on the door instead of the ringing of a bell to signal a new customer, she shook her head and barely hid a smile.

"Mademoiselle." Javert bowed and kissed her hand.

"You do know that this is a store, right? You can just walk in." she turned her head and grinned.

He cleared his throat. "I did not come as a patron, so I did not see it fit to simply enter."

"Fair enough" Elisabet laughed.

"You left this." Javert said quickly, thrusting his hand out and holding a string of small pearls.

Elisabet, thrown off by the suddenness of his gesture, took it slowly, confused. "Oh, uh, thanks." And so they stood, somewhat awkwardly, looking around everywhere but at each other.

"This is stupid." Elisabet said suddenly.

"What?"

"Why are we being so… so awkward? We don't have to act any differently. Nothing's different! Well, okay, a couple of things are different, but we're still… what are we?"

Javert opened his mouth and closed it several times before putting forth his own question. "Does what happened yesterday count? Does it… mean anything?"

"To me it does. And you?"

"Yes."

"Good" she gave a small smile. "You know that you're still my best friend."

"I know."

A moment passed as they just stared at each other without a word, a feeling of mutual comfort and relief that the night before wasn't just a rush of emotion between them.

"Want to come inside?" she asked, leaning on the doorframe.

Javert looked at her hesitantly. "I-"

"-yes you do." Elisabet pulled him by the arm inside and closed the door behind her. To her surprise, he didn't resist. "Do you want something to eat?"

"I expect Sophie left food out for me before she went home."

"I can make something hot. I have a bit of ham in the oven and some turnips on the stove, would you like to join me?" In truth, Elisabet had hoped that Javert would come by that day, so she had set to cooking an hour ago and left it to heat up while she was working downstairs. "Please?"

"Very well" he said. Though he seemed resigned to it, Elisabet saw what she thought was a hint of eagerness in his eyes; he probably didn't get invited for dinner often. She sat him down at her little table and set his food out. It felt good- she looked at him, prodding at the ham with his fork. She loved Javert and he cared for her. Elisabet smiled and sat down across from him.

"So, what's your favorite food?" she asked conversationally.

"I do not know."

"Come on, you have to have something. What do you eat at home?"

"In the morning I have a bowl of porridge, in the evening I have cold meat on bread."

Elisabet rubbed her temple. Sometimes, Javert's simplicity made things more complicated than they should be. "Is there anything you like to eat but not that much? A favorite meat? A dessert maybe?"

He thought for a moment. "I enjoy cod. And flaugnarde, when made well. Why?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I just want to know more about you."

When dinner was finished, Elisabet looked at the clock- it was already eight in the evening.

"I must be off. I have an early patrol tomorrow." Javert said, standing.

"What time are you waking up?"

"No later than five."

"Poor thing, that sounds awful."

At that, Javert puffed his chest out and said proudly, "Crime does not rest, neither do I."

Elisabet smiled again and led him downstairs. "What are you doing to celebrate the New Year?"

"Patrolling the streets to make sure no drunkards stir up trouble."

Her face fell. "What time?"

"Six in the morning until five in the afternoon, then half past midnight until four in the morning."

"Why do you do that to yourself? Can't you switch out?"

He turned to look at her as if she had just asked what color the sky was. "I am the best officer in the area. It is only proper that I head the patrols on the night when the most alcohol-induced trouble will come."

Elisabet pursed her lips. She wondered if there was any part of him that wasn't rooted deep in the law. And yet he really did seem to like it, he seemed proud to be needed. But she needed him, too, especially because she had already begun planning. Nevertheless, his wellbeing came first.

"So does that mean you'll be sleeping in between?" she sighed.

"Of course not. By the time I got home it would be six, and I would have to wake up at ten thirty at night. Such a small amount of sleep would do more harm than good."

"Well then… would you want to come here in between? It is a holiday after all."

"I would not want to keep you from any plans you have made with your friends."

"You're my friend!" She laughed exasperatedly and turned to face Javert. Elisabet leaned on the door and grabbed his thick hands with her thin ones. "Let me give you a happy New Year. Believe me if I didn't want to, I wouldn't have asked."

"I do not drink."

"Who said we have to drink? Just come over for a few hours. Please?"

Javert looked at her, his pale green eyes searching her face- why, Elisabet did not know. Finally, he stepped back and straightened himself. "As you wish." He consented.

"Get here around six, then. I'll see you then." She handed him his hat.

"Mademoiselle." Javert bowed and put it on his head. Suddenly, Elisabet was seized with a new anxiety. Should she kiss him now? Or was it too early? It wasn't like he was a suitor, he was just… Javert. Inspector Etienne Javert. She bit her lip and stared at him, her heart screaming to kiss him and her mind telling her it was the wrong thing to do. Javert was looking down at her, seemingly confused at her sudden hesitation. Elisabet thought of last night and how tightly he held her on the balcony. She reached up quickly and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Inspector." She nodded, a small, shy smile on her lips.

….(later)

That evening played through Elisabet's head as she ran around her kitchen trying to do several things at once. The cod was baking in lemons and peanuts, the dough for the flaugnarde was on the stove, and the apples and cranberries for the same were simmering in honey. She plopped down into a chair with a 'huff'; she knew that Javert didn't typically show emotion, but if he didn't show the slightest hint of gratitude, she firmly believed that he would be receiving a punch in the stomach.

Elisabet wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and raised her eyes wearily to the clock. It was five- Javert would be getting off of his first shift soon. She stood, set the food to warming, and walked into her bedroom to see what clothes she could wear.

She chose a simple, light blue dress with short sleeves and white frills at the bottom. Elisabet had wanted to buy a new one for the occasion, but she had realized that the recent upswing in spending had left her with less money than she would have liked. But she still had her health, job, and home, so there was nothing to worry about. She tied her hair up in a bun, leaving a few locks to frame her face.

"Why won't you curl?" she chided her hair, trying to twirl it around her finger. It wasn't that her hair was lifeless; her brown locks waved every which way except what way she needed them at the moment.

Three curt knocks on the door below pushed her hair from her mind. Elisabet's heart gave an extra beat as she made her speedy way downstairs, smiling ear to ear.


Javert took a step back as Lilybet swung the door open with such force that even she took a few unbalanced steps to steady herself.

"Hi." She beamed up at him with a youthful vigor that had not diminished in ten years. At twenty-five, women her age were usually married by now, and yet she still seemed a young girl to Javert in many ways. She had her youth, her health, and her whole life ahead of her. He was sure that she got at least one other invitation for the night, and yet she wanted to spend it with him. It made Javert feel proud, really, proud and old.

"Mademoiselle." He bowed to her. It was more habit than anything else that made him still call her that. Saying 'Lilybet' felt improper on his tongue. She opened the door wider and he stepped in. She took his hat and coat and they walked upstairs to her flat. As they ascended, Javert could not help but notice that she was the perfect amount of steps ahead of him that her bottom was at his eye level. Each time, he would look up and watch it sway side to side as she got higher and higher, then promptly look down at his feet, his face red as he admonished himself. It happened enough times that Javert had begun to wish that there were less steps when they finally got to the top floor and she abruptly swung around to face him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Quite." Javert answered truthfully. He had to admit, it was nice to have home cooking that wasn't porridge or cold meat, and Lilybet wasn't bad at it. He had been a bachelor for forty seven years; it was peaceful- no fuss, no emotions to deal with. However, when Lilybet entered into his life, he realized how truly lonely he was. And he was still lonely: when he came home to his empty, dark house, when he slept in his large bed, when he looked in the mirror and ran his hands through his graying hair. But remembering that night on the balcony, remembering that, if he wanted, there was someone to welcome him into their home whenever he needed it, filled him with a sort of safe comfort.

Lilybet took his hand in hers- it was clammy from what Javert suspected was the heat of the cooking. Javert held hers right back softly, carefully. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? It felt nice, anyway. She seemed to like that; when Lilybet felt Javert's fingers on her hand, she turned back and smiled, giving his hand a squeeze.

A wave of stuffy heat puffed into Javert's face. He blinked a few times at the rise in temperature. She clearly saw it written on his face.

Lilybet looked at him sheepishly. "I know it's hot, I have the stove and the oven on. Maybe I'll put the fire out, that should help." Once it was out, she pulled open a window and let the cold air rush in. Javert sat at the wooden table and looked down- she had put out her finest dishes for the evening, evidently trying hard to mimic the high-society style. She put out three forks per person- in the order of a large one first, then a small one, then a medium one- but Javert suspected that if he were to point her flaw out, she would only have a fit at him. Nevertheless, it was endearing that she tried. His lips curled slightly upwards into a small, shy smile as he ran his thick fingers on the silverware.

Javert looked up when a rich, buttery smell suddenly filled the room. Lilybet placed a large plate on the table and beamed at it proudly, breathing a bit heavily from the weight of the dish.

"Cod." She said proudly, her hands on her hips. "With lemon butter and peanuts."

It looked unlike anything Javert had ever seen. "You made this all yourself?" he asked quietly. "For me?"

"For you." Lilybet nodded. She cut a piece for him and some for herself and Javert took his first cautious bite: he was still fairly new at adapting to others' home cooking.

It was a bit on the dry side and the lemon butter was a little runny, but when Javert lifted his gaze to see Lilybet looking down at her own plate rapidly and pretending that she wasn't watching him nervously, anxious for his approval, he decided that it tasted better than any royal banquet food he had ever eaten.

She asked him about his day, about his patrols, and Javert shared the drunken brawls he had broken up, the incompetence of some officers… it wasn't much, but nobody else cared enough to listen to it. Lilybet watched him, asking questions and nodding when he spoke.

And yet, her usual rapt attention was permeated with an excitable air. She listened, but all throughout dinner there seemed to be something she was waiting for and anticipating.

Javert was truly impressed with her flaugnarde; it seemed that her long, thin hands were adept at baking. It was not too sweet or too bland, and it had the perfect amount of fruit. When he was finishing the last bits of the cake, Lilybet caught him off-guard by leaning in close and grabbing his arms.

"I have a surprise for you." She pecked his lips quickly- Javert nearly jumped when she did that, it seemed that he was still getting used to it- and practically leapt out of her chair and ran into another room, leaving Javert thoroughly confused.

When she returned, she kneeled at his feet like an excited child and placed a heavy brown package in his lap. Javert stared at it uncomprehendingly.

"What is this?" he asked numbly.

"Your birthday present!"

"It is not my birthday."

"I promised, remember? Go on, open it."

Javert carefully began unwrapping the string and unsticking the corners of the paper.

"Just rip it!" she said impatiently.

"No." He continued until he could finally unfold the wrapping. He glanced at her one final time and met her wide, blue-gray eyes before opening the gift. His skin crawled and his heart raced. Javert was, for one of the few times in his life, excited.

He picked it up and felt the smooth, red leather. He rifled through the pages. He ran his fingers over the gold text.

The book was simply titled, "The American Revolution". Javert's breath grew shallow as he turned the book over and over in his hands.

"I noticed that you didn't have anything like this in your collection, I thought you might enjoy it." Javert had almost forgotten that Lilybet was there. He looked down at her and looked back at the book. A pang of guilt shot through him. It must have cost her dearly.

"How much did you pay for this?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Never you mind. Well- well what do you think?"

"It is… beautiful." And it was. He felt the crisp, neat pages with their writing and charts and maps. Javert could not remember ever getting a more considerate gift. And she gave him a birthday, a real birthday. She did not care of his age or the work, she just did it. He looked at her, still wide-eyed. "Thank you."

"Of course." They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they just locked eyes, an affection passing between them mingled with the relief that there was no more wondering. He looked into her wide eyes, thinking in that moment that she truly was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. When he had first met her, Javert thought she was decent enough, but he had no time to focus on such things. But now, he looked at this young, beautiful woman who cared so much. She gave him a birthday. Javert thought that he might almost kiss her himself.

A knock on the door broke the reverie.


It was nine in the evening, who could possibly be at the door now? Elisabet placed her hands on Javert's knees to steady herself as she got up.

Failing at this, her toes slipped backwards and she fell forward into his stomach. Javert grunted but was not moved. Elisabet, fully aware of where she would have fallen if she let herself, pushed backwards off of his chest as soon as she made the unfortunate contact. She sat on the floor, her feet straight out, staring at the ground and rubbing her burning red cheek.

Can't I not be an idiot? She thought. Just once?

"What do keep in there, rocks?" she asked sheepishly. She clutched her stomach. She felt fully aware, at that moment, how fit Javert was and how prominent the little pouch of fat on her otherwise okay stomach was.

"Are you sick?" he asked, noticing the action.

"No, I'm chubby." She looked up at Javert. The incredulous look he gave her made her feel a little bit better. So she wasn't as fit as a man who spent most of his life under military training. She wasn't fat either. I'm just normal, Elisabet told herself. Thank God for this corset, she thought for perhaps the first and only time in her life.

Four more insistent knocks on the door.

She placed her index finger on her lips and then pointed it at him before running downstairs. Elisabet wanted to have a quiet, happy night with Javert; if any friends found out he was here, they would never leave her alone. Besides, she reflected sadly, he would probably feel embarrassed.

"Hello, my dear!" A blonde mane whipped Elisabet in the face as two arms wrapped about her neck.

"Hello, hello!" she said, a bit breathlessly, to Renee and her fiancé, kissing them both on the cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

Lesgle shrugged. "Well, you said you were busy on New Years, but we were on our way to the café and saw that your lights were on. We wanted to make sure you had someone to celebrate with."

Elisabet smiled at her friends gratefully. She opened her mouth to reply when Renee crossed her arms and stared at Elisabet smugly.

"Actually, darling, I think Lilybet has someone here. Perhaps the same someone she spent Christmas with? Which, by the way, you never told me about."

Lesgle looked at her, his interest piqued. "And who would that someone be?"

"That someone is no one!" she protested.

"Oh come on, look at you. Look at your dress, look at your hair. And something smells awfully good upstairs. AND I heard you talking to someone before you came down." Renee smirked.

Elisabet backed up a little and leaned against the doorframe, both physically and verbally cornered. "Fine." She raised her hands up in defeat. "There is someone here. Someone who I made arrangements to be alone with." When her friends raised their eyebrows, she amended quickly. "No, not like that. Someone I'm friends with. Friends. It does not mean anything. Look, just leave."

"Very well" Renee consented. "Come over for dinner tomorrow evening and we'll catch up on these things."

"I will." Elisabet promised. "Happy New Year!" she hugged both of her friends and shut the door.

She turned to the steps and discovered Javert standing behind the wall.

"Were you listening to my conversation?" she asked, probably more accusingly than she meant to.

Javert cleared his throat. "I was merely making sure everything was alright. It is unusual for people to ring on a holiday at so late an hour." Elisabet nodded in agreement. She remembered the last time two people came calling at a late hour, asking for her help…

Yet something about Javert disquieted her. He had a sudden distant air about him, it was off putting.

It then dawned on her that, though he may not have been listening on purpose, he must have heard her excuses.

"You know that- that I didn't mean it- when I said it meant nothing-"

"-of course." He said curtly, meaning that he knew nothing of the sort.

"Hey," she turned him around gently, "you have no idea how much it means to me that you're here. If I told them, they never would have left. Did you honestly want my loud friends here to disturb us? I love spending time with you, and I don't want to spend your birthday with people that would make you uncomfortable. I want to be with the real you. Besides, I remember how you felt when everyone thought we were together at the ball. I know you don't want anything about us getting out to anyone. But… just, thank you." Elisabet was overcome with the urge to wrap her arms around his neck- and so she did, and, burying her face in his shoulder, continued, "Thank you for being here with me and helping me as much as you have. You've always made me feel safe."

"Why are you saying this?" he asked, confused.

In truth, Elisabet didn't really know. But the feelings swirled around her heart and she inhaled deeply, smelling the musky-cottony scent and feeling his facial hair on her forehead. He didn't raise his arms to hug her, but he didn't pull away either- that wasn't a bad sign.

"Because, I don't need a reason to say how I feel." She felt a large finger reach under her chin and pull her face to face with Javert. He studied her for a few moments before opening his mouth to speak.

"You have caused me much trouble, mademoiselle." He said quietly.

"Because you, Monsieur Inspector, are just a walk in the park." Elisabet's ease ebbed away as she realized just how close she was. She could make out each little hair on his face, could see the wrinkled pouches of stress under his eyes. She felt his shallow breath on her face. And he pulled them into that position in the first place. She chewed on her bottom lip. "If… if I were to kiss you right now… would you p-protest?"

Javert did not respond. Instead, his eyes fluttered closed as he moved closer. Elisabet shut hers and met him halfway; just like on the balcony, she felt a warmth course through her as she felt herself sinking deeper into Javert, deeper into a place of safety and happiness where she truly felt whole.

She could almost feel her happily ever after.


"Let's go back upstairs" Lilybet said in a low voice when they broke apart. He followed her closely as she walked, trying desperately to beat back the comfort he was feeling.

The happier you get now, the worse you will feel later, a voice in the back of his mind said, you cannot be her Prince Charming. You were not meant for this happiness.

And yet, when Javert looked at the girl walking in front of him with a smile that he was responsible for on her face, remembering that he was here for his first ever birthday party- if he could call it that- he steeled himself against the voice. For tonight, at least, he could be happy.

But she had hidden him from her friends. She said it was for him, yes, but Javert would understand if Lilybet did not want anyone to know that she was spending her New Years with the old, impassive Inspector Javert. He looked up when she began to speak again.

"Hey, Jav- erm, Etienne-"

"-you may address me as Javert, if that is easier."

"But what would you rather have me call you?"

"I have no preference." People had called him Javert nearly all his life; in all honesty, hearing Etienne felt rather foreign to his ears.

"Okay, then. Are we… are…"

"What?"

"What are we?"

Javert shifted his gaze to his feet. He had given it a lot of thought in the past week, in truth, but nothing had ever come from it. Courting was the first thing to come to his mind, but no- he was too old to go through that process, and it was far too soon. She could change her mind about him at any moment, and Javert decided that he had no right to hold her back if she should decide to do so.

"What would you like to be?" he asked in response.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I want to stay friends and I want to still be able to talk to each other. But I… I have feelings for you. And I don't want to have to ask before I kiss you."

"It would be inappropriate to do so in public."

"No no, I know," she defended herself quickly, "I just mean how we are right now. When we're alone. What do you think? Please, just tell me the full truth." She looked up at him with such pleading, trusting eyes that Javert could not do anything but tell her how he felt.

He sighed before beginning. "I… I feel how you feel. But it would be inappropriate to be seen out together in public. We are not courting, we are not married. I care for you. But we cannot be seen that way in public, it is inappropriate." Not to mention my men will never shut up with their gossip of us, he almost said. "But in private, limited affections would not be altogether offensive to any party-"

"-so when we're here, do I have to go through fits of anxiety every time I want to kiss you?"

Javert was sure Lilybet knew the answer to that very well- but no, she always wanted to hear it straight. "No." he said firmly.

She laced her thin fingers through his thick, scarred ones. "So we'll just be… together." She concluded simply. Javert just nodded at her; she seemed pleased enough with the option.

For the rest of the night, they sat and looked through the book. Lilybet talked admiringly of the rebels that had renounced the English crown; Javert called them traitors who got lucky.

"Weren't you an officer during Napoleon's reign? Have you always been a monarchist?" she asked.

"I follow and enforce the rules that have been given. They were created to keep the public safe; what weight would they bear if one could simply decide to shrug them off?"

"France even assisted the Americans!"

"I did not."

"Fair enough." They looked through the rest of the book without debate, poring over maps and copies of letters sent in secret correspondences. Though he may not have agreed with them, Javert was very much interested in how such a small and shoddy group rose to defeat the British Empire using next to nothing but their spirit.

Throughout the whole reading, Javert noticed how closely they sat. They shared the book, one side on his knee and the other on hers, and she leaned in close to him, leaning her shoulder against his. At times, their hands would meet when flipping a page. Once, he had gone to turn it but Lilybet had not been done. She look his hand to stop him, said "I'm not done yet", gave him a smile- not her usually grin, but a real, sincere smile- and kissed his hand. He did not protest as she did it; Javert was still getting used to these little acts of affection and, though a small part of him still insisted that he was meant to be alone, he found that each one brought him closer to something: what it was, he did not know, but he hoped against all odds that he would find out.

"It's five minutes past midnight!" Lilybet exclaimed when they were nearly at the end of the book. The world had finished yet another rotation around the sun while they were too busy immersed in another century to notice. This time last year, Javert was patrolling the streets by himself, fully convinced that he had his life exactly where it needed to be. Now here he was, sitting in the kitchen of the girl he had known for so long who, last year, he was convinced he would never see again. He was spending the holiday with someone who cared about him enough to give him a birthday.

She turned up to Javert. "Happy New Year" she said before craning up to kiss him. Already it felt more comfortable for Javert to respond to it.

"I wish you all the best in 1832." He tried his best to give a small smile, though he was aware that merely tightening his lips might not have resulted in the desired effect.

"Don't run away on me again" Lilybet said, seemingly out of the blue, "not so suddenly. If you have to leave, tell me. Even if I can't go with you tell me. Please."

Javert looked into her pleading blue-gray eyes. He knew that it was impossible to assume he would never leave, and he was grateful she did not ask him to. The law was his life, and wherever it carried him he had to follow willingly. But to tell her would be to hurt her.

To not tell her would hurt her even more.

"Alright." Javert nodded to her.

"Promise me? As a resolution for 1832."

He remembered Lilybet's look of betrayal a decade ago as she handed him her white flower. How she had only just forgiven him last week on the balcony. He hurt her deeply by that, he saw that now.

"I promise." He said.

"And if there's anything I can do for you-"

"-you have done more than I deserve-"

"-not even close. So don't be afraid or think it's improper or anything. You know me. Just come talk to me."

They sat in silence, contemplating the possibilities of what the next three hundred and sixty five days had in store for them.

"I must go." Javert announced at a quarter past twelve. He was then inhibited by Lilybet, who left only to return a few minutes later with a cup of black coffee.

"You'll have to keep up your energy." she said, handing it to him. Javert drank it dutifully, more out of politeness than anything else.

When he was done, she retrieved his hat and coat. They stood at the foot of the stairs facing each other. Javert, having carefully wrapped the book back up, held it under his arm.

"Thank you. For all of this." He finally said. Hearing the simple words, he did not feel that they did justice to how he felt at the moment. Javert looked down at Lilybet. She cared for him, gave him a birthday and a New Years, and was determined to make him happy. He briefly wondered if she loved him in return.

"Of course. Next year we'll give you a proper birthday. You know, on your actual birthday." She walked him downstairs and they stood by the door. Lilybet reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, just standing there and trying to get as close as possible. Javert reached up his available arm and held her as well, wishing that things were different. That he came from a better background and was twenty years younger. As if reading his mind, she added, "Don't ever change who you are. Stay safe."

With that, Javert bowed good evening and went out into the street. As soon as his boot heels clicked on the cold stone streets, he immediately straightened. It was perhaps a minute before he was once again the ruthless Inspector Javert and people made extra effort to part the streets for when he passed.