Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback everyone! :D I will put the fluffy chapter in a bit later on, I'm trying to get the story moving along. Again, thank you sososo much for reading, enjoy!
January followed February in quick succession and, though spring was rapidly approaching, a chill was slowly creeping over the Parisian population. The beggars were getting more and more insistent, in some cases to the point that Javert and his men had to physically stop them from climbing into carriages and assaulting the people within.
March brought with it whispers- shadows that brought disquiet with them and muddled Javert's thoughts. Whispers of secret meetings, of citizens.
Of rebellion.
Naturally, such whispers made their way up the ranks and Javert was soon issued an alert that he was to be promoted to Inspecteur Général. The previous one had stepped down citing medical reasons, yet the news of his fear of another revolution plagued and dishonored his resignation. Javert, who was known up and down to be competent and having a spotless record of service, was recommended by the Prefect himself. Although his office remained the same, he was given a new uniform to match his position: he traded in his navy blue for black, with a silver collar denoting his position with epaulettes to match. He wore on it his red medal, a token given to him when he left the army.
It was not an officially given medal, but on the day his service ended and he was to be sent to Toulon as an assistant prison guard (an ironic twist that, to this day, Javert was sure he was given intentionally), his commanding officer came to give him his papers. Before he left the room, the man beckoned Javert closer. He then put the medal in his hand. Javert still remembered, clear as day, the cold metal of the medal on his palm and the strong, kind voice that spoke to him.
"You will be leaving on the morrow, boy. Take this. I know where you came from and I know that it hasn't been an easy climb for you. I know you won't be telling many people about your past, but you needed to be commemorated somehow. You were born an urchin and rose to be a man of the law. I see great things happening for you. Take this medal as a sign of your bravery and spirit and remember to keep fighting for what you believe in, no matter how bleak the outcome looks."
He fingered the dark gold star as he remembered. Javert hardly remembered what the captain even looked like, and yet he was the first to see Javert's value and commend him on his personal triumph.
It was his first day in the uniform and Javert rode proudly on his black stallion through the streets. Normally, the Inspecteur Général dispatched others to patrol in his place, but Javert was told that he was too efficient a patrolman to give up. So far, the only thing that had changed was extra meetings with the Prefect and several other defense heads and about an hour's worth of extra paperwork each day.
When he told Lilybet of the promotion a week ago, she was thrilled. When he told her of the reason, the thrill gave way to trepidation.
"S-so in case anything happens-"
"-I will be charged with leading the police force and assisting the National Guard against the rebels."
She stomped her foot in agitation and balled her fists at her sides, reminding Javert of their twenty-one year age difference. "Why you? Why?"
"I would think it to be a combination of my extensive military training, record of success, and good relations with Monsieur Vipond."
Lilybet put her hand on her forehead and felt behind her until she found a chair to fall down on. Javert took a few steps towards her to make sure she was alright.
"I try and help you make a good impression on the man and for what? So he can send you off into danger" she murmured, he suspected more to herself than to him.
"I will stop any danger before it has the chance to flourish. They are only rumors, it is merely a precaution. If these so-called 'revolutionaries' are too cowardly to even show their faces, they cannot be much of a threat." He put his hand on the back of her chair and she immediately gripped it hard. Lilybet did not shift her gaze, still staring straight ahead nervously at something Javert could not see. He bent over so that he was eye level with her.
"I don't want to love you."
"Love?"
"Lose. I said lose. I don't want to lose you. Not that way." She blinked and looked in his direction with the vague surprise that suggested that she had not been entirely aware of his presence. Javert tightened his lips and sighed, straightening himself. He was almost positive that she had said love, what could it mean?
Most likely a slip of the tongue, his common sense told him. Nothing worth looking into.
Javert was snapped out of his flashback only to find that he had turn onto her street as a matter of habit. He had made a point to make it a part of his patrol route each morning, and they would look at each other for a few brief seconds and nod before Javert rode past and Lilybet went on to her sweeping. It wasn't much of anything, but it was something he looked forward to on the days he did it.
Sure enough, he saw her straight ahead as she unlocked her shop door, emptied her requests bin, and came back outside with the broom. She raised her blue-gray eyes to look at him and he watched as they widened briefly, taking in his new uniform. Lilybet looked him up and down before meeting his eyes again, giving a small smile while still managing to go on with her work perfectly. Javert had to admit, her subtlety was impressive. He gave her his customary expressionless nod and she raised her eyebrows and nodded towards her house. She knew very well that he would not come in while on duty, but Javert made it a point to stop in on his way home if it was not too late after work in the evening.
Having no way to convey this, he simply raised his hand slightly to her and replaced it on the rein again before moving on ahead. It seemed that she was impressed by the new uniform; yet he suspected that when he told her of the reason it was given and reminded her of the responsibilities of his new position, she would not be so enthused.
Javert had not visited Lilybet in nearly a week- it would not look good on him to be seen entering her home so frequently as an unmarried couple. People were already talking; another set of whispers for Javert to deal with. The little snippets he had caught ever since their soup day had only grown more and more frequent since the ball. He wondered if Lilybet heard them too- did they frighten her? Intimidate her? It was completely understandable if it was so: being linked to the old, dour Inspector must have frightened away other potential suitors.
And then he would remember how she told him she cared about him and tell himself that she did mean everything she said. There were no potential suitors. That maybe she was God's way of answering his devout nightly prayers for the path to salvation.
If so, he wondered if God could not have sent a more manageable answer, or if He just got amusement out of seeing Javert squirm.
Elisabet's eyes followed Javert as he rode around the corner and out of sight. Her tongue felt dry and she realized that her mouth had been hanging slightly open, watching him ride by her in a new uniform. It really suited him; the silver epaulettes highlighted his broad shoulders and the black color gave him a commanding and imposing look. She smiled to herself. She'd known him for ten years and he still managed to make her feel like a gawking schoolgirl.
It was a warm April morning. Elisabet raised her eyes to the sky; only one or two clouds could be seen drifting through the blue.
Her past three months with Javert had been as frustrating as they were wonderful. She did like their little moments in the morning, but that was almost all the time that they spent together. He visited her once every week or so and they would just talk and, usually, go on for hours. That was one of the best things about Javert- she could talk to him about anything. He would tell her about his day and she would tell him; sometimes, they would exchange stories of their past and things that happened during their nine year separation. The fact that Elisabet could hold his hand while they spoke was just an added bonus.
But that was really as far as it went.
Javert always spoke of the places outside of Paris he had been to as Inspector, the port-markets with strange spices and silks. Elisabet would tell him of the countryside where she grew up and Javert would mention a lovely field just outside of Paris. But when Elisabet asked him if they could go, his answer was always the same.
"We are an unwed couple, it would be most improper"
When she offered to hold his arm when he would walk her to her home: "Ware not married, it would look scandalous."
Sometimes, she just wanted to shake him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and that she would like nothing more than to be wed to him. But Javert was just convinced that she would be embarrassed to be seen together, to the point that she had to hide it from her friends.
It hit her occasionally that maybe he just didn't want to be seen with her.
She wasn't stupid, she had been hearing some of the gossip (via Renee and Rachel, mostly) about herself and Javert. What made her dislike it was the fact that it was assumed that she was Javert's "young mistress". Now, she did love him, but Elisabet Barbier was nobody's mistress. Other than that, it made her feel proud in a way, to be linked to the powerful, strong Inspector Javert. It made her proud that people looked so respectfully up at him on his horse, but that he was hers.
Well, not technically hers. But close enough for her to think of it that way in her head.
Though Javert was a part of her life that grew larger every day, subtle strangeness started worming its way into other aspects of Elisabet's life. The basement of the café was closed- "for renovation" they said. The schoolboys who she employed had been coming less and less ever since they got back from their winter break. Grantaire –her drunkard of a dear - who used to come nearly five days a week (to make money, she suspected, yet she liked to tell herself that she really was good company), now normally came two or three; the same as little Gavroche. The Marius boy they had brought on that one day months ago came more regularly with them now, still retaining his determination for civility that told Elisabet that he was quite a few classes above his friends and herself, no matter how hard he tried to pretend to the contrary.
Whose apparent change had disturbed her most, however, was that of Enjolras.
The lively, charming boy had aged at least fifteen years over his break; he had slowly grown more solemn, coming in maybe a few times per month and even then, Elisabet always chided him for standing off in the corner whispering with the other boys instead of working. A darkness had descended over his features, and yet what perplexed her most was his eyes. Whereas they were once filled with a youthful vigor, the vigor turned into a hard determination. To say that they were flames would be an understatement: they were wildfires.
Elisabet's curiosity often got the better of her; she would go to his comrades and ask them what was going on with him.
"He has a lot to deal with."
"It isn't my place to say."
"He'll tell you when he's ready."
Those were the answers she always got. Utterly at a loss, she had gone directly to the source on one occasion. Elisabet had found him in the basement, discussing something in hushed tones with Marius.
"Hey," Elisabet barked, "do I pay you to gossip like hens? Pontmercy, back to the front, the flowers need watering. Enjolras, let me see the inventory."
"My apologies, Mademoiselle." Marius hurriedly glanced at Enjolras before scurrying up the stairs.
Enjolras handed Elisabet a half-finished inventory and she looked up from it, exasperated. "You've had nearly three hours! Surely you have more than this."
"Sorry." He muttered, before taking the paper back and heading over to count bunches.
"Alexandre," Elisabet called. He turned right away; when she called him by his first name, Enjolras knew to listen. At least that part of him was still intact. She cupped his cheek with her hand- it was a far reach, she was convinced that he grew at least a few centimeters over his month-long holiday, he must have been half a head taller than Javert now- and searched his features. "What's going on with you? You've been acting so differently, what change has come over you?"
He took her hand and stared back into her eyes. Elisabet almost felt like his eyes were burning her. "The change that will soon come over the streets of Paris."
Elisabet grimaced in confusion at his cryptic response, slightly alarmed at his intensity. "What?"
And just like that, it was gone and the shadow descended upon his face once more. "I must get back to work." He said, turning away and returning to his count.
Though that occurrence happened some two weeks ago, Elisabet still found herself thinking about it like it was yesterday. She had also noticed the poor getting more and more restless, their begging more often becoming physical confrontations with the police- she knew that better than anyone: no doctor would see them, so Elisabet had been called as often as she was able to be to assist those who were wounded. Occasionally, she would be cleaning a gash and wonder if Javert was responsible for it.
Judging by the amount of orders she had to prepare today, Elisabet hoped that nobody would be in dire need of her assistance. And so she set to it, gathering and bunching and attending to customers.
When the clock chimed six, she walked over to the window and was just about to change the sign to 'closed'.
It was all she could do to step out of the way in time before the door went flying open.
"Enjolras!" She exclaimed, confused at his sudden appearance. His face was serious, with an urgency lying beneath it. "Come… come in…" she stammered. The blonde boy marched in and shut the door behind her.
"Come." He said, pulling her towards the counter. Elisabet allowed herself to be dragged along, helpless in her confusion. Enjolras took her by the shoulders and stood close, his dark eyes on fire. She stared into them, almost afraid. What was going on? Who was this changed man?
"What is it? What's going on?" she asked, her lip trembling.
He spoke, his voice low and urgent. "I need you to come to the ABC Café in three days' time at six o'clock. Tell only those you trust. It's important."
"Why? What is this?" Elisabet asked, raising her voice in bewilderment.
Enjolras stepped closer in an attempt to calm her down. They were almost nose to nose. "Do you feel the winds rising? Do you see the mice stirring from their holes? Change is blowing through the streets and it demands to be noticed."
"Please." He shook her a little in his impatient passion. "You of all people. You tend to these poor, sick, and dying, you see them every day. We need to get all of Paris on our side." He paused to breath and opened his mouth to speak again. Elisabet was so close that she could feel his breath on her face.
The knob twisted and the door creaked open- this time carefully, with caution.
Two black shoes stepped onto the wooden floor. Elisabet trailed her eyes up the black uniform and met a pair of pale green eyes.
She cleared her throat. Enjolras released her, his features tightening into a mask of cold civility. He stood up straight. Elisabet put one hand on the counter to steady herself and used the other to brush a stray piece of hair out of her face.
"Inspector." She greeted, trying to smile. She still wasn't quite sure what was going on. She turned back to Enjolras to continue, but saw that he was staring intently at Javert, and he was staring right back. Elisabet thought to herself that she may as well not exist- or rather, judging by the tension between them, she would rather have not existed. She turned her face back and forth between them as they kept boring into each other. To Elisabet's dismay, it quickly became a battle of wills.
"I thought I saw trouble in here, Mademoiselle." He said to Elisabet in his deep, growling voice; he never took his eyes off of Enjolras.
"No trouble, sir." Enjolras answered coolly before Elisabet even had the chance to open her mouth. "I was merely having a word with the Mademoiselle."
Javert finally broke eye contact to look at Elisabet. To her surprise, his calm expression was permeated by hostile undertones. His eyes seemed to be searching her for conformation.
"We were just finishing a conversation, Monsieur Inspector." Elisabet nodded. "Could you give me just a moment?"
Nobody moved a muscle.
The tension felt so thick that she thought the very air was turning to stone.
Finally, Javert nodded.
Enjolras stared at him, waiting for him to move. Javert stared back, his feet firmly planted on the ground.
Giving up, the boy turned to Elisabet and raised his eyebrows. She was still at a complete loss as to what was going on. She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking.
This is a bad idea, her common sense told her. Anything that could a lively young boy into this is not something to get into.
On the other hand, she did care about the Enjolras. In a way, she was friends with him- with all of them. Maybe this would shed light on what was going on with them. Maybe she could help them.
After a few minutes, Elisabet crossed her arms and gave a sigh. "Fine. I'll be there. Six, you said? Three days from now?"
Enjolras nodded at her, the determination still on his face. He left the shop, stopping only for a split second to spare Javert a calculating glance.
"Inspector." He acknowledged coldly before opening the door and marching out of sight.
Once he was gone, Javert turned towards Elisabet, the same cold look still in his eye. "What happened?" he asked sternly.
Elisabet shrugged her shoulders and looked at him helplessly. "I honestly have no idea. That was Enjolras, you know him, one of the boys that helps me out-"
"-yes." Javert made the word cut through the air like a knife.
Her look turned to one of confusion at his sharpness. "…right… well, he just came in to talk to me-"
"-then why was he holding you like that?"
"Like what?"
"His arms were around you."
"His arms were on my shoulders-"
"-why?"
"I don't know." She slammed her hand on the counter in frustration. "He came in and he was so urgent, he grabbed my shoulders and started talking to me."
"What was he talking about?"
"Why do you care?"
Javert took a step back. "I do not. I was merely coming to stop by and I see a man holding you close and I wanted to make sure no harm was coming to you."
The truth of what he really meant dawned suddenly on Elisabet. A grin broke across her face and she pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You're jealous!"
"I am not. It is my duty to see that no civilians come to harm. I was doing my job."
He looked genuinely offended and Elisabet felt bad. When it came to things one should say and one should keep to themselves, her line was thinner than it should be. Javert came especially to visit her and here she was making him uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry." She muttered apologetically. But you definitely were, she badly wanted to add. He nodded in acknowledgement and she went on to explain. Tell only those you trust, he had said. "He and his friends are just having a gathering about something and he invited me along."
"What kind of gathering?" Javert asked, immediately professional.
"He didn't really say. But don't go telling people. He only told me to tell anyone I trust."
Javert looked to be mulling it over for a moment. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "Do not go" he said finally.
"What do you mean 'do not go'?"
"It may be unsafe."
"I know them, they won't hurt me."
"You have heard the whisperings through Paris. Sedition, rebellion, revolution."
Elisabet gave a nervous chuckle. "Those boys come from well-off families, I doubt they would be starting a revolution." Yet even as she said it, everything started to fit together in her head.
No, she thought. No, they wouldn't. They'd never be that foolish, surely. Nevertheless, a chill crept up her back and through all her insides. Elisabet had to hug herself to stop the quivering of her organs.
Javert, noticing this, stepped closer to her until her shoulder practically touched his chest. "No one can be trusted in these times." He said quietly. She looked up at him and noticed that the ice in his gaze melted. His eyes were looking into her heart, entreating her to not go.
"I trust you." She said simply. Javert blinked and looked away. "You're wearing your hat sideways." She observed.
He took it off of his head and tucked it under his arm, clearing his throat. "It is a part of my new uniform." He said dryly. He gave Elisabet a look that made her feel like a five year old for her comment.
She tried to explain herself. "You know, ah, I- I didn't actually think you were… you were wearing it sideways. It was a joke, you know? I'm not actually…" she faded when she saw Javert's cocked eyebrow.
"It was not very funny." He was not smiling –as per usual- but he looked mildly amused nonetheless. She playfully pushed his shoulder and laughed enough for the both of them.
Elisabet took a step back and observed him, head to toe. She put her hands on his shoulders and fingered his epaulettes admiringly. "I really like it." She said, putting it as mildly as she could.
You look amazing, she could have said. I want to be seen next to you like this. You're the most handsome man I've ever seen. I would be proud to be by your side.
Instead, she smiled at him, touching little bits and pieces while Javert looked perfectly pleased with himself. It was simplistic yet powerful- exactly what he needed. No doubt he was getting at least some of an ego boost from this.
"Monsieur Vipond thought it appropriate that since being appointed Inspecteur Général, I would get a new uniform."
Inspecteur Général. Javert couldn't have made a bigger impact on Elisabet if he had punched her in the stomach. She was jolted into remembering the conversation they had when he had first told her of his promotion. What duties it came with. And with his suspicions of Enjolras: what if, God forbid, they were true? She couldn't bear to imagine being pulled into the fray and having to choose between the man she loved and those who were loyal to her. Losing either one… Images began rapidly flashing through her head.
Enjolras, sliced nearly in two.
Javert, riddled with bullets.
Her stomach dropped and she gulped, trying to steady herself. Within moments, she felt Javert's hand under her elbow and the other one on her back to balance her.
"You are overthinking." He told her. Elisabet shook her head, confident that she didn't say a word about what she was thinking, and yet he understood her completely.
"What if I'm not?"
"I am almost certain you are."
"No!" Elisabet shouted now, panic rising within her. "You can't, you can't be certain of something like that. I know what'll happen, you'll tell me everything is fine and then everything will turn upside down. Don't lie to me like I'm a child."
Javert took a step closer and she matched it with a step backwards. "Don't." was all she said. "You can't do this, you can't get hurt. You can't go and die just because someone orders you to, it's your life and yours to choose what to do with. You don't belong to them."
Nor does he belong to you.
"This revolution is nothing and it will be nothing." Javert spoke gently but with confidence, trying to reason. "If the cowards come out of hiding and attempt anything, the national guard is more than capable of squashing it. I believe that I will only be called in for the clean up."
But then that would mean bad things for Enjolras… and for all she knew, Grantaire and Bossuet and Marius as well. Suddenly, Elisabet felt she needed comfort- any kind of comfort.
Why should YOU need comfort? A voice within her said. You are not directly involved, people cannot comfort you for their troubles, spoiled child. The voice sounded remarkably like her father.
She tried to ignore the voice scratching at her- ELisabet wrapped her arms around Javert's middle (She chose not to go around his neck; she didn't just want a hug, she wanted an escape.) and asked him to hug her. He put his arms around her in his loose way: not because he did not like to do it, she knew, but because he felt it was 'improper'.
"Please," she pleaded, her voice muffled, "a real hug. Not this. Just hold me as tight as you can. Please." To her surprise, Javert obeyed immediately. He held her as tight as he did that night on the balcony. She felt his chest rising and falling as be breathed. She closed her eyes and listened to the beating of his living, healthy heart and smelled him; though it was a new uniform, his scent was just the same. His arms were a fortress where no one would ever harm her. "I don't want to lose you like that. I feel so much safer when you're holding me." She muttered. The comment felt stupid, childish. Until he replied.
"It is the only time I do not worry about you." He replied, his voice just as hesitant, but sure and matter-of-fact. In that moment, she wanted to tell him how she truly felt. Her mouth open and shut a few times like a fish struggling for air. Maybe, the schoolgirl within her thought, if I tell him I love him, he won't go fight.
Elisabet never would know if she would have gone through with it, because at that moment, a yelp from just outside her window made her look up. She barely noticed the fact that even though she loosened her grip, Javert held her just as tight.
"Ohhh God" she groaned. Why was it that every time she was drowning in her emotions, the wolves descended upon her?
Rachel was clutching Renee's arm, bending over in surprise. Elisabet had not seen Rachel in nearly a month. The brunette's mouth was open in a delighted way, her red lips a ring that took up at least a third of her face.
"Oh my God-" The rest of her words were cut off by Renee's hand flying to cover her mouth, who looked at Elisabet sheepishly through the glass. Clearly, she had meant this to be stealthier.
Javert let go immediately and stood straight, looking so embarrassed that Elisabet was temporarily overcome with guilt.
"I-I'm so sorry-"
"-it is alright." Javert said in a way that didn't make it seem alright at all.
Rachel pointed to the door and raised her eyebrows. Elisabet shrugged, annoyed at them. They were there, they might as well come inside.
"Inspector." They each greeted him as everyone did, but without concealing their smiles.
Javert bowed to both. "Madames." He returned.
Elisabet tried to begin to explain. "The Inspector was-"
"-just investigating a disturbance I thought was occurring in Mademoiselle Barbier's shop. Good day." Javert lied briskly. He bowed again and gathered his dignity. He turned away, his head hanging ever so slightly.
Elisabet could not let him leave like that. She couldn't let this go on. She wasn't ashamed, she wanted people to know. Damn the gossipers, she decided. I'm happy and I don't care what they might say.
"No." she said. He stopped, not turning around. She looked at her friends. "I asked Inspector Javert to pay me a visit. As it happens, I'm rather fond of him."
Instead of laughing, Renee and Rachel's faces turned remarkably kind. Javert spun around. He stood behind them and looked at her with surprise.
"An Inspector, eh?" Rachel teased playfully, "My my, don't we have high standards?"
"Good for you, Lilybet dear." Renee cupped her cheek affectionately "As long as you're happy with it, all is well". If her friends were judging anything about his reputation, age, or her own personality, they didn't show it, and for that Elisabet was grateful.
"Why are you two here? Just wanted to come spy on me?"
"Well, actually, Rachel and I met up and I was informed of the reason for why we have been deprived of her company for so long!" Renee made a grand gesture with her hands. Rachel removed her shawl and stood profile to Elisabet.
She couldn't see much, but the bump on her stomach sent Elisabet into a fit of girlish celebration with her friends that made her temporarily forget poor Javert, frozen, watching them like animals in a safari.
"When's the baby due?!" Elisabet asked.
"Mid November" Rachel returned, her whole being so strongly glowing with motherhood that Elisabet wondered why she had not noticed it the month before. She kissed her friend on both cheeks and congratulated her.
"We were going to see if you wanted to come to dinner with us. Lesgle is going off with those schoolboys again and Richard is away on business, so we have the night to ourselves. But now I see we don't have our dependable old maid anymore." Renee smirked.
Elisabet flushed. "Shut it," she said, the smile refusing to leave her face. It felt good, that they associated her with him. She gestured her friends closer. "But… we're not courting or anything, we're just, you'll think I'm so strange, we're just… together. So don't let anything get out. Please. I'm nobody's mistress, it's nothing like that. Just keep it to yourselves."
Whereas Renee looked disappointed, Rachel nodded sympathetically. "We understand. Of course."
"Well that isn't any fun." Since it would not do to retaliate to a pregnant woman, Renee just shuffled a few steps to her left when Rachel elbowed her in the arm for her comment. "Well, we should be leaving then. Have fun here!" Elisabet bid her friends goodbye and when they were at the door, she turned to look at Javert, still frozen in the corner.
"I am so, so, so, sorry about that." She said to him. "I didn't know they would be coming, really. Look, I'll lock up the shop. We can sit upstairs, you can tell me what this new job of yours is like." She shuddered when she remembered the conversation of only a little while ago. "Besides, you know, what I already know." She added.
"Why did you tell them?" he asked.
"Well… well because I didn't want you to leave. I'm sick of hiding this, I'm sick of pretending that there's no one here and that you and I are barely acquaintances. I want it to be like the ball, but all the time. I'd be proud to stand with you. I am."
Javert looked at her, his head cocked slightly to the right. "You mean that?"
"Yes!" Elisabet laughed, exasperated. How long was it going to take to get it through to him that she cares? Then, the doubts hit. Her shoulders slumped and she backed off a bit. "Unless… I'm sorry, I should have asked you if you were okay with me telling them. I'm really, really sorry. You have a problem with me telling them, don't you?"
"No." he responded, making her raise her head in surprise.
"Really?"
"I thought that I had embarrassed you."
"What? No, you could never! Never." Elisabet took a few steps and stood close to Javert. She stood as tall as she could and put her hands on the back of his head and kissed him. "Let's go on an outing." She smiled.
"An outing? That may not be proper considering we are not courting-"
"-we've gone out together before! The soup, remember?"
"And my men gossiped on about it for days afterwards."
"But it's different. This time it would be true, so it wouldn't be gossip, just spreading news. Come on. Let's go to one of those countrysides outside of Paris you keep telling me about. We can go for a day and come back. We'll have a fun time, I guarantee you'll have as much fun as you're able to have."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that I've seen you smile maybe three times ever."
"Why should I smile at every little thing? It is unnecessary."
"So is being snarky, but you do it anyway."
"You do both."
"And I'm perfectly happy with it." Elisabet cocked her eyebrow.
"I must get back to the police station by eight."
"Well that gives us a little under an hour and a half. Come on upstairs?"
"Thank you."
Javert followed Elisabet up and she had almost succeeded in pushing the dread from her mind.
They're only schoolboys, what do they know of war? She shook her head at her silly fears. Everything will be fine. As long as Javert is here and my boys are well, everything will be fine.
Elisabet would see to it that they would have an outing so wonderful that after wards Javert would have to fall in love with her.
