This is all the stuff I wrote for future chapters, unedited.
I looked up at the twilit sky as I leaned against the broken lamppost. Javert stood in front of me. We stayed silent for a long time, but I began to feel as though something must be said.
"Sir, have you ever looked at the stars?" I had my head upturned, and only heard his breath hitch in his throat. "I mean, have you ever really thought about them?" I looked into his face, surprised to see emotion showing. When he realized I was looking at him, his visage returned to its normal stony state.
"Why do you ask, Lieutenant?" he said softly, carefully.
"I ask because I have, sir. I have contemplated those twinkling lights many a night in my youth."
"Your speech seems to have improved."
I ignored him, and continued. "Whenever I was lost or scared, and Mircea wasn't there for me, I would look to the stars for comfort. I understand that I am terribly dependent on others, and I should apologize because I have likely acted similarly to you. I don't mean to be so needy…" I paused; my head had somehow turned down, and I was staring at my feet. I returned my focus toward the sky. "But the stars always comforted me. I was never completely alone, never completely in the dark. I would eventually find my way home if I was lost, or fall asleep if I was frightened or hurt. They were always there, always watching over me, keeping me safe and lighting my way." I swallowed, gripping at my sleeve. "You know, I did a lot of bad things in my life. I did not atone for my sins like I should have, sir, and so…" I held out my wrists to him, my eyes firmly shut. "You should arrest me."
A silence. A silence that passed for too long.
"Don't be ridiculous, Lieutenant."
My eyes snapped open. My face must have registered my disbelief for the Inspector's angry scowl showed a hint of discomfort. The sharpness in his tone caused my heartbeat to speed. "W-what?" was all I managed.
"You haven't finished paying your dues for robbing me yet."
I uttered a choked sob and shoved my hands at his face. He jolted away, startled at my sudden movement. I pressed my hands against his chest. "Arrest me," I muttered, refusing to show my red face, looking at the ground and thanking the Lord that my hair was long and unruly. I pressed against him again and again, until I began to sobbing. I whimpered for a while before Javert carefully pulled me towards him, his strong hand resting on my head, his other arm hanging limp. He was silent as he let me weep; I clutched his jacket as my body trembled.
"You've been crying a lot lately," he muttered gently.
"I have a lot to cry about," I replied bitterly. He stayed silent for a moment, but the air was growing uncomfortable, weighing down on us both.
"Why do you want to go to jail?" he asked, pulling us apart.
"I don't," I said, trying to sound calm, "but I know how conflicting it must be for me to walk around, free, after you know I've committed numerous crimes, especially one against yourself. Not only am I not in prison, but I am working for you of all people. Why haven't you torn your sideburns out by now? Aren't I everything you are against?"
Javert's eyes were wide, and he looked as though he had been slapped, hard. The way he stared through me made me feel unsettled and upset. I put a hand over my eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.
"No, you said something very true," responded Javert, and I cursed when I realized that my mutterings were not, in fact, in my mind. "Very important…"
I looked at the man in front of me desperately. "I'm sorry, sir, I—" I had no idea what I was apologizing for, but I felt it was necessary. He shook his head, releasing me. He seemed to be in a daze.
"I'll… I'll arrest you when we return to Paris," he said softly, his gaze faraway. I choked a sob and he grimaced. I nodded, holding a hand to my mouth.
"I understand."
When we returned, Javert began gathering one of the blankets in our room.
"What are you doing?" I asked; my voice sounded hazy, and warbled, as though I might cry again at any moment.
"I'm going to sleep in a separate room." He didn't look at me, and he was moving far too quickly.
"They're all taken, remember?"
"I'll sleep in the lounge."
"That isn't a good idea."
Javert glared at me. His eyes were rimmed red from lack of sleep, and they had a frustrated glint. I flinched, and he responded in the like. "I can't sleep here."
"Why? Because I'm here?" I saw the grip on the blanket tighten. "Sir, please don't do this. Stay here. I'll sleep by the window if it makes you feel any better."
"It isn't that, it's –"
"Sir, go to bed. It will be fine." I smiled at him. "You know it's for the best. I need to be arrested."
His face twisted, as though he was in pain. After a moment of silence he sighed, and consented, walking to the bed and throwing the blanket over it. He removed his shoes and climbed into it. He looked at the ceiling for a few moments, then turned his back to me. I sat at the window, looking out at the twinkling sky. A gentle breeze cooled my face, which had felt hot ever since I began talking about the stars to Javert. I lay my arms over the sill, and settled my chin comfortably on them. I began humming a lullaby that I remembered long ago. I paused when I realized I forgot the rest of it. Then I began humming the song that I had heard when I was bathing, the first night of the beginning of all of this. I closed my eyes and let the song lift me; even though it was melancholy, even though I understood the sadness and I felt like I could cry at any moment, I also felt an odd overwhelming joy whenever I heard it. I opened my eyes and looked at the stars. I rose from the chair and sat on the sill, stretching my arms to the heavens.
"My friends," I whispered, "you always shine down on me, guiding me. Please do so now. I need you now, more than ever." I heard rustling behind me, and whipped my head around. Javert was still sound asleep, but he was facing me. I sighed, looking again outside, resting the palms of my hands and my head against the side jamb. "You never fade, you never waver. Please give me the same strength. Javert will do what must be done; when the times comes for it, give me the strength to accept my fate with open arms. I can't cause him any more pain. I'm just a frustrating, incompetent girl to him – please let me do this one thing for him properly." (WOW THIS SUCKS CHANGE THIS NOW)
I didn't see that Javert's eyes were open. I didn't know that he heard what I said. I fell asleep quickly, and when I woke up, it was morning, and I was under the covers of the bed. Javert was gone.
(…new chapter)
(…)
We entered the hall quietly. Well, I was quiet. Javert had to greet the military men that had come as well; he was amicable tonight, it seemed, unless he just improved upon his lying skills*. I had decided to just be a woman for tonight; not an officer of the law. My fingers curled over Javert's bicep, my hand properly placed under his arm. He had shown me how to act in this type of setting before tonight, so that I would not embarrass both him and myself. I felt eyes on me and focused my gaze straight ahead.
Javert moved gracefully as he held me in his arms and whisked me unto the dance floor. I was immediately caught up in the whimsical tune of the waltz, and soon I only was aware of Javert and me and the music circling around us like a ribbon of melody. I inhaled sharply when he twirled me, but his face was so self-assured and focused I did not trip or falter. He brought me back and we spun around as the music crescendoed and the night became dizzy. I let myself focus on his warm eyes… his warm eyes… they had seemed so frigid when we first met, but the paleness was now only in colour. I knew that I was moving but it felt more like I was floating instead of stepping around. Javert's grace and charm melted into me and I felt confident and secure in his arms. He would never let me fall. The hand on my waist pulled me closer at the next two-step and our chests pressed against one another. My breath hitched and I almost missed my step, but Javert's other hand squeezed mine reassuringly, and we continued as though nothing happened.
Some of the other dancers pushed themselves away and we soon possessed the dance floor. We glided about, and every moment – there weren't many – where I felt hesitant or confused, Javert's grip just momentarily tightened around me and I felt safe again.
(New chapter)
(…)
"She's a real beauty, inn't she?" said one.
"When she's out of that starched uniform and in the clothes that she was born for, yes," agreed the other. Javert could tell that they were talking about Tsura. A beauty? Hardly.
The first one snickered. "Wait till the Inspector gets a peek at 'er. He'll be stunned so badly he won't be able to speak!"
"That'll be a relief." The two of them laughed, and Javert felt the urge to walk over and say something, when he saw movement from the right of him.
He turned, and could only open his mouth.
"S-sir?" asked a very timid-looking Tsura. She didn't seem very comfortable, and a red stain covered her cheeks.
Some of the dancers had stopped, some women starting whispering, and the two chatting men were staring. So was Javert.
Tsura was dressed in an incredible golden dress with a cream-coloured floral print. The edges of the skirt and sleeves and the low neck were embroidered with a golden thread. A tight crimson sash was tied around her waist, and a large crimson shawl was loosely hung over her head and wrapped over her shoulders. Her dark tresses were loose, daring to escape the confines of the hood. Several golden bracelets sparkled on her left wrist. Her skin colour was accented beautifully by the colours she wore.
Her eyes seemed to smoulder against the glow of the flickering flame.
She was bare-footed, and walked carefully over to Javert, kneeling down before him. "Sir, the fire isn't bothering you, is it?"
Javert was stunned speechless. He had only been able to stare at the woman before him up until now, and he couldn't find his tongue to answer her question.
Why am I acting this way? It's simply because I'm not used to seeing the Lieutenant out of her uniform. I had a similar reaction at the dance the other night, even though it certainly wasn't as strong. Javert felt a shudder rise up his spine. Suddenly, Tsura's hand was on his shoulder. He jumped back in surprise.
"Sorry, sir! I noticed that you had gone of in your thoughts; I wanted to make sure you were feeling okay."
Javert nodded quickly, turning away. His breathing had quickened. He closed his eyes. He had to stop himself - he was acting ridiculous. He had to chase away these thoughts; they made no sense to him, and therefore could not be trusted. But every time he looked over at her, his heart began to race. It didn't help that the first comment she gave about his new attire was, "You look very handsome, sir. Like a real gypsy."
All of a sudden a joyous cry broke Javert's thoughts. Both he and Tsura looked up to see the old Seer with a huge wooden platter filled almost-to-overflowing with...
"Figs?" asked Javert. "Do they even grow in Paris?"
"They must have brought them from wherever they came from," Tsura replied.
The plate was quickly brought around the dancing bonfire, to the twirling men and women. Everyone took one, thanking the old woman. Javert and Tsura watched silently. Javert dared not sneak a glace at the woman beside him.
Finally the plate was brought to the pair. Javert looked in, and sighed. Of course. "There's only one left," he said to his inferior officer. Tsura nodded.
"You should take it then," she told him.
"Nonsense. I'm not hungry," began the Inspector, just as his stomach betrayed him by growling. "Take it, Lieutenant," he insisted. She shook her head and he resisted a growl of indignation.
"I refuse."
"But—" he began, but Tsura grabbed the fruit, and, without another word, broke it in half.
"We should share," she said, handing one half to her superior.
Javert was silent for a moment, but then he let a hint of a smile play at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you."
Tsura looked at him wide-eyed, and blushed, quickly turning her attention to the fruit. "It... it-it-it was just common sense."
Javert looked at his piece of fig. "So do we get any utensils to eat this with?" Tsura stared at him as though he had grown multiple heads.
"No," she said, in a tone that implied she thought he was insane.
She brought her lips to the fruit and began eating it. Javert's ears heated up. She wasn't acting very ladylike... but then... Javert looked around and saw that anyone eating was doing the same; more or less slurping the fruit down. Javert cringed before doing the same.
He would never admit it, but he believed that it made the fruit taste much better.
He wiped his mouth and licked his lips. He looked over at Tsura, who at the moment seemed very pleased. Her lips were stained red, and swollen from sucking at the edges of the fig. Javert's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned away.
One of the older women walked over to Tsura, and began complimenting her. Javert wasn't listening until he heard her ask, "Did you two eat from the same fruit?"
He turned his head, eyebrow raised. Tsura looked confused. "Yes?" she offered.
The woman smiled knowingly. "You know what the symbol for fig is, right?"
Tsura shook her head, and the woman caught Javert's eye before whispering the answer in her ear. Tsura's face immediately went beet-red, and she began stammering incoherently.
Javert cleared his throat. "Mind sharing that information?"
The woman's smile never faltered. "Excuse me, Inspector. I was just telling this beautiful young woman that the fig is a symbol of love and sexuality."
Javert's face suddenly felt very, very, very hot. He had a suspicion it wasn't because of the fire.
"The fact that you two split the fruit in half, quite perfectly might I add, and ate from it together..." she trailed off, and began giggling like a young girl. Before Javert could say anything, she got up and walked away.
(Next chapter)
Javert has the odd sensation that his heart was going to rip apart. He thought that if he could spare himself a moment away from the fire and the crowd he could calm down. But of course not. In addition to that embarrassing conversation, they just had to be forced to dance.
Next thing he knew, Javert was being forcibly dragged into the circle. Everyone was dancing in a lively, spritely way. Javert felt incredibly out of place.
The strange music filled Javert's ears and soon he just let himself go. It's as if it wasn't the real Javert who controlled his own body, but the man who he could have been. He barely missed a step, and the women seemed to be enjoying his company tremendously. Even the men seemed to respect him, although the band from earlier just looked bitter and jealous. But no one else seemed to care. Everyone was just having fun. Javert began to really dance. He just listened to the music and felt his body move to the rhythm; there was no set method. This involved the soul. Everyone around him displayed their soul freely… was it so bad if he did, as well?
Javert dared to raise his eyes then.
He saw Tsura. Perspiration beaded at her smooth forehead, and the wide smile on her face seemed to be permanent. She was laughing breathlessly, twirled about endlessly. Her shawl was on the ground, long forgotten, and her hair was flowing freely in the breeze and her skirt whirled about her legs. The fire illuminated her figure. She seemed to be the embodiment of a flickering flame.
She glanced up with heavy-lidded eyes, and saw Javert staring at her, and gave him such a smile that Javert felt his heart twist.
He broke away from the dance then, and walked to the field, feeling the cool night wind caress his burning skin.
The music was distant. He exhaled carefully.
"Javert?" The Inspector turned around. Tsura was standing there, her face quizzical and slightly worried. "Are you alright? You looked like you were having fun, but then you left. Was the heat too much?"
Javert shook his head. "I just needed some air."
Suddenly Tsura stiffened, looking past her superior. "What's wrong, Lieutenant?"
"Don't move."
"What?"
"The horses that ran away," said the woman carefully, "they're down there, near the stream." She began to walk in slow, deliberate steps towards the two horses.
Javert followed numbly.
"Get the stallion," said Tsura, pointing to the black beast, "and I'll take the mare."
Javert nodded, imitating Tsura's movements. The horses either didn't notice the two or didn't care.
Suddenly Tsura ran, grabbed the reins of the paint horse, and leapt onto the blanket over her back.
Javert stood, speechless, grasping the reins of the indifferent black stallion.
Tsura smirked devilishly at her boss, and with an eager cry and a whip of the reins, sent the horse in a mad dash into the forest. Javert, quite unsure that the figure he just saw escape to really be Tsura, followed suit, although he was a tad less graceful getting on the huge beast beside him.
Javert followed the trail blindly until he saw the spotted cream rump of the mare. "Lieutenant, what on earth are you doing?" cried the Inspector.
All he heard was bell-like laughter, and the horse disappeared into the darkness once more.
Javert hurried after her, not sure what to make of this display of insubordination. Or perhaps... was the thief finally attempting an escape? Was the joy he saw when he danced with her moments earlier completely fake; joy in the scheme she had planned early on? Her emotions and words ever since the fire in the barn a ruse to lure Javert into a false sense of security?
Javert surprised himself by bitterly exclaiming "Impossible!"
No mere woman could outwit Javert, he reasoned.
He followed her, gaining a brutal speed. Just as he turned the bend after a long, straight path, he was forced to yank the leather that he grasped in his hands and twist the horse to an abrupt stop. They both breathed heavily, white clouds forming about their faces.
A fork in the road.
Javert cursed under his breath, and decided on the left trail. After what seemed like an eternity of riding, he felt like he really did lose her. He slowed the stallion down, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. So she had been lying to him.
All of a sudden he heard a sound below him. A thundering that grew in volume, that he finally recognized to be hoof beats. He looked to his right and saw the other trail, lower by about fifteen feet, parallel to the one he was currently travelling and separated by a steep expanse of earth. Javert watched as Tsura and the spotted mare sped down the dirt track. Tsura's hair and skirt were fluttering wildly in the wind, and she seemed intent, but that grin said something along the lines of 'I don't have a care in the world.'
Javert quickly moved to action.
He whipped the reins and flew down the trail, his eyes blazing. Quickly, trying not to think, the Inspector twisted the reins and his body, and pulled the horse hard to the right. The startled stallion leapt, landing heavily next to the paint horse.
"What in blazes are you doing?" demanded Javert.
"Oh, come on, sir!" cried Tsura, the permanent smile on her face, "Show me you know how to have fun! Horseracing is every little boy's dream!"
"I am not a little boy!" he argued angrily.
"You were, once!" replied Tsura, racing ahead.
Javert realized she would only stop when he beat her; she believed this to be a race. He sighed, then gave a smile that more bared his teeth than showed emotion.
Tsura only noticed Javert when he was right beside her. Both he and the horse he rode blended into the night. She gasped, and almost crashed into the wall of dirt and rocks beside her. Javert seemed to be concentrating; he quickly overpowered her and it took no time at all for Tsura to lose sight of him.
They continued for a little longer before catching each other's eye, and slowing to a stop in the middle of a clearing. They saw the glow of the bonfire hidden behind sparse forest.
"So we returned," said Tsura.
"I'm just happy we didn't get lost. What were you thinking?"
""I was thinking I wanted to see you have fun one last time before we return to Paris." Tsura gazed at him, her eyes serious. Javert looked back, momentarily surprised at her words. Then he sighed. How could he have doubted.
"We should return," he said, dismounting. Tsura nodded solemnly and did the same, patting the horse's muzzle affectionately. She began walking ahead of Javert, not looking at or speaking to him. Javert was still for a moment, watching her go. From behind, she did not even look like the woman he had known for over a year - more like an illusion of the night cast by the firelight, dancing shadows, and stars. The woman's body was sculpted earth, her dress made of golden flames and her hair the twilit sky.
Suddenly Javert felt a yank on his collar. He whipped around to see the grunting stallion.
"Let go of my collar, if you would," he cried to the horse. It complied with an annoyed grumble and pulled the Inspector towards the camp. He managed to yank himself free, but understood what the horse wanted and continued until he was bathed in a warm glow.
Tsura, he noticed, was already gathering her things and making hasty goodbyes. He walked to the camp just as the band of male gypsies from earlier sidled up to the Lieutenant. As the Inspector tied the horse to the post beside the mare, he overheard their conversation.
"Leaving so soon sweetheart?" asked one.
"Yes, I'm afraid so," answered Tsura. "It is getting very late, you see, and the innkeeper won't be pleased with us. It'll also be an early day tomorrow, and –"
"You shouldn't worry so much about this job," interrupted another, twirling a curl of Tsura's hair on his finger. "You should be dancing instead."
"Yes, dancing!"
"You were a lovely dancer."
"Quite lovely."
""Oh, well, thank you, but, you see," faltered Tsura nervously. She was beginning to babble.
Chapter 60?
(…)
I walked down the street, and entered the tavern, with nary a thought in my mind. It was almost as though my mind couldn't process coherent sentences, or any sentences for that matter. I just… drifted.
The bell chimed far too merrily for my tastes and I shuffled over to the bar. I ordered a glass of Port and glared when the bartender attempted to intrude upon my business. I leaned back in my bar chair and sighed. The figure sitting beside me stirred, and I half-turned my attention to him. If he's drunk, he might become dangerous. I better keep an eye on him. He raised himself, and stretched. That's when I got a good look at his face, and though it was dirtier, there was no way I could mistake it.
"Franc?"
He turned to me with raised eyebrows, but he didn't show anything more than very mild surprise. Then he turned back to his scotch. I leaned in to the bar, clutching at my sleeve with the opposite hand. This wasn't what I wanted to be greeted with. I shut my eyes when I heard the chair beside me scrape the floor – the drunken former officer just realized who was talking to him.
"You?" I looked at him, and his mouth just hung open. I would say he looked incredulous, but there was such a lazy aspect to his features it wasn't a very proper description. I glared at him, and he recovered himself, smirking as he brought the glass to his lips yet again.
"So this is where you are? You drown your miseries day and night with alcohol?" He snickered, an adequate reply in his mind, and then looked me dead in the eyes, his own hard and cold. No wonder I didn't notice who it was immediately. He looked terrible. "I thought you were supposed to be in Montpellier." He scoffed.
"I have family over here; I'm visiting."
("So you're in love with him. How revolting. Well, no matter – the man of your affections is so blind to the feelings of everyone around him he'll never even notice.")
Chapter 72?
(…)
I stopped dead in my tracks. My heavy breathing was shown in gentle puffs in front of me – the night was cold, even for spring. The footfalls behind me got louder, but remained at a slow pace. Whoever was walking didn't care about being caught. I whipped around, and was immediately greeted with a hard slap to the face.
"Stupid bitch, did you think you'd get away?"
I looked up, my eyes widening. It was the one-eyed man! How did he escape prison? I thought. As though he could read my mind, he said, his gruff voice laced with confidence, "Your stupid police force doesn't know how to investigate a crime scene properly. They got my friends, but I only had to hide in the shadows, and they didn't even look for me!" I couldn't believe my ears. Surely the force wasn't so full of incompetence. Surely, something must have happened…
"Well, no matter," I said, straightening up. "I'll fix that problem here and now." I put my hand to my blade's hilt, tightening my grip and unsheathing my sword. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and I disguised my flinch as switching into a fighting stance. The great brute grinned wickedly.
"You think you are strong enough to take me on? Remember what happened last time?" He guffawed, baring his yellow teeth. "Your lover had to save you!"
"He's not my lover," I muttered, glaring fiercely. I readjusted my arm, and my sword glinted in the moonlight. The one-eyed man stopped laughing, and raised his eyebrow, before giving me a very serious expression.
"So," he said, his voice darkening, "you're serious." His hands balled into fists, and he cracked his neck. When he looked at me again, his eye gleaming dangerously.
I said nothing. When he lunged, I dodged, my foot scraping loudly against the gravel. He twisted and aimed his hooked claws at my neck, and when I ducked, slashing at his stomach, I didn't expect him to attack me again immediately. When I dodged this time, I stumbled, and he took this chance to grab my throat and slam me to the ground. The air escaped my lungs faster than I could've ever imagined, and I painfully attempted to regain it, but his crushing grip was blocking my airway. He brought his other hand up, and I took my blade and ran it through the palm. He cried out, and leapt off of me, sliding off my sword, which was now coated in a thin layer of his blood. I gasped, sitting upright, clutching at my throat with one hand and trying to hold myself up by digging my sword into the ground with the other. I managed to catch my breath just as he attacked me again, and I cut his arm. When I thought I had another opening, and went to stab him in the gut, he snatched my weapon with his bleeding hand and ripped it out of my grip, throwing it into the river. I tried to catch it, but he took my hair and pulled me back so quickly and with such force I landed on my back again. I gasped for air and a spurt of blood was all that came from my throat. I rolled over just as his foot came slamming down, and I barely missed it. I wheezed for breath and struggled to rise. He turned to me and spinned fully around, leg raised, and kicked my jaw, sending me spinning into the alley. I heard a snap and felt a rush of pain to my shoulder. I coughed and spit out a mouthful of blood, pushing my hand against the ground and straining to get up or at least get off the dirt-covered alley. The burly bastard didn't see, too keen on that, but somehow I managed to tumble out of the way of his hooked sausage-sized fingers. I fell on my backside, but that was lucky, because it was that much easier to rise to my feet. I landed a blow to his stomach, and before giving him a chance to recover, brought my fist upwards, clashing with his jaw and hearing a loud crack as he was sent reeling backwards. I shook my throbbing hand, exhaling slowly. I wiped off perspiration from my forehead, and cracked my wrists and neck, returning into a stance I hope looked intimidating.
From his laugh, I suspected it wasn't.
"Oh, you're a spunky one. You just never learn, you little bitch. Didn't your dad ever tell you not to fight it?"
I flinched. "Never talk about my family, you sick bastard. You know nothing about me."
"Well, why don't we change that?"
I flinched, backtracking. He took a step forward, his dirty grin widening, his chapped lips cracking. I gritted my teeth and raised my clenched fists, bracing myself for another attack. He chuckled, licking the back of his hand, which was covered in his blood. He made no attempt to stop the bleeding, either.
"My, my," he said, his voice low, "you've got a nasty habit of staring. What is it, doggy? Hungry? Want a lick?" He limply offered his grimy hand. I recoiled, my nose scrunching as I grimaced. He shrugged, and licked it again.
"You're sick," I spat. He laughed at me, but said nothing. I grabbed my dagger, hidden in my jacket, and ran at him full force, wielding my weapon in front of me, bent low. I leapt up at the last second and brought my arm down as swiftly and quickly as I could. I stabbed him, but he brought his arm up and elbowed me in the side. I was thrown back from the sudden force and smacked against the brick wall of an abandoned building. He ripped the dagger out of his shoulder and threw it to the side. It skittered about twenty feet away. I cursed, holding my bruised arm, struggling to rise. My knees were bent and I had to use the wall as support. "Damn," I murmured. My muscles ached and my bones burned. Perspiration trickled down my forehead and stung my eyes; I blinked several times so I wouldn't get blinded. I was bleeding, but I didn't know from where.
I had to end this.
He was in worse shape than I was, bleeding everywhere. His chest was cut and both his shoulder and hand were stabbed. I wasn't sure how deeply each gash was, but it must have affected him. The problem was that the man was huge, both in girth and length. And he was constantly knocking the air out of me, giving him an advantage. I panted, not giving into my fear, but only showing my anger. I gave him a steel gaze, hard and cold. I was still leaning against the wall, clutching my arm like it was going to fall off.
"Oh, what? Is that supposed to scare me?" He smirked. "You're pathetic." I stepped forward, stumbled, caught myself. I winced when I brought my arms up again. I never knew that a person could be in so much pain. I don't think that even the barn incident caused me as much pain, although my body was probably in shock. But here… here I felt everything. Every blow.
"So," began the one-eyed man, as though we were in the parlour making light conversation, "where's your savior?" I glared at him, but my brows were knitted in confusion. He sighed. "You dumb bitch, I meant Javert." I bared my teeth, my ears suddenly feeling very hot. "Isn't he going to save his sweet little morsel?"
"You shut up!" I screamed. "Stop insulting him, you disgusting half-witted oaf! I swear to God I'll kill you! You know nothing about Javert, and you never will. Just shut up!"
He seemed momentarily shocked at my outburst. Then a malicious sneer crossed his features.
Chapter 74?
(…)
The shot rang out, echoing for what felt like ages into the black starless night. I staggered back, managing a choked gasp before falling down on my backside. The pain was a dull throbbing and felt almost distant, as though I was separate from it. Javert looked at me in shock; I had been fortunate enough to see the man show emotions on his face in the past, but never anything very extravagant or dramatic, and certainly not in the raw way he expressed his emotions facially now. He turned to my attacker, shock rapidly transforming into unbound rage. I felt weak, but in the strangest way. I was numb and yet my flesh was oversensitive, feeling every breath of wind. It all sensed very strange and frightening to me, and I could feel a lump in my throat, as though I wanted to cry. But I stared blankly to the scene unfolding before me.
Javert was battling the one-eyed man, and winning. It didn't seem terribly difficult for him, as it was for me. He had his blade drawn, and I could see that he had unarmed the burly man quite easily, though I was not sure when, or how. The one-eyed man found the discarded pipe and brought it up just in time to block Javert's attack, but Javert's eyes were burning and determined, and he quickly got the upper hand. His opponent staggered back and tried to ram the pipe against Javert's ribs but missed, narrowly dodging Javert's counterattack. He ran, and threw the pipe at the Inspector's head (it wasn't an effort for him to dodge it) and fled. Javert picked up the pistol that had fallen to the ground, and brought his arm out at full length – dead straight and parallel to the ground, and cocked it. His eyebrow twitched and his eyes narrowed. I exhaled, and counted three seconds before a second shot broke the night. The large body of the one-eyed man fell gracelessly to the ground in a heap.
Javert walked swiftly over too me. Wordlessly, he brought my failing body over to the wall, turning my head up with his gloved hand. I rasped, smiling at him. "Sorry sir. It looks like this is goodbye."
DOES NOT HAPPEN. (75)
Javert looked at me, his face desperate. I gasped, and struggled for breath, managing a smile.
"Lieutenant…" he started. His eyes were wide, searching mine for something I didn't know. Whatever he was looking for, I doubted he would find it.
I inhaled shakily. "Sir, I'm sorry I caused you trouble," I whispered. My voice was strained; it hurt to speak. He could tell; his face contorted into something resembling sadness.
"Don't say such a thing, Lieutenant," he said to me. "You… you did a very good job. I'm proud of you."
I gasped, and shifted against the wall. I gazed at him, my vision going blurry before the tears fell artlessly down my face. "You never said a thing such as that to me before, sir," I said. I smiled again. "Thank you."
Javert did not return it. His eyebrows furrowed and his forehead creased. I reached out my hand, which was covering my abdomen, to him. He took it and put it to his cheek. I cringed at seeing my blood on his face, and tried to pull away, but he would not let me. "Sir, my blood…"
"I don't care." His eyes burned when he opened them, and stared at me meaningfully. "You will not lose your life over this, Lieutenant. You will not lose your life over me."
I chuckled, quite darkly, and mirthlessly. "You think I have power over my own actions when it comes to you, sir? Spare me the jest. I have…" I paused to let pass a fit of violent coughing, which turned into bloody sputtering. "I have no control over myself… not when it comes to you."
He looked at me, shocked by my words. "What on earth—?"
"I am in love with you, Javert, you fool." My smile faded, and I looked at him, almost with reproach. I couldn't control my emotions either, it seemed.
He leaned closer, which startled me. "I don't think I heard you correctly. Repeat, if you would be so kind."
"I love you," I whispered in his ear. I pressed my hand against his cheek, bringing his head to mine. I inhaled his delicious scent, and backed away slowly. "I have loved you for a very long time, Javert, and it would make me feel tremendously better if you would stop calling me Lieutenant. I don't want to die with a title strapped to my breast."
He looked pained, and mildly confused, and terribly stunned, as if this was all too much to handle. "Ts-Tsura," he said gently, carefully, trying it out on his tongue. He shook his head, but I took his hand and squeezed it.
"Thank you, sir." I wiped the blood from my face, smearing my sleeve with red. He winced as the blood flow started once more. Had it even stopped? "I'll be alright, sir. Just a few more minutes and I won't even feel it…"
His eyes widened, and I was surprised to see an expression of despair cross his face. I coughed again, managing to cover my mouth. My hand glistened crimson. I winced, and wiped it on my knee. Javert saw the blood, and inched closer. He gingerly opened my dark jacket, and looked horrified when he saw the white shirt underneath, a red stain the size of both his hands covering my front, growing slowly in size. It was a darker in shade than what I had been coughing up.
"We'll be parting ways soon, sir. Any last-minute condemnations about my lack of efficiency around the office should be said now, I think." I forced the smirk, this time. He took my face with his hands, but not before stripping off his gloves. His skin was warm, and soft. My eyes began to close when he rubbed his thumbs in a circular motion under my temples. I looked at him through half-lidded eyes.
"You foolish girl," he said, his voice thick and choked. "You foolish child. What will I do with you?"
"I think —" I struggled for breath – it sounded wet when I cleared my throat. "I think you'll have to fire me, sir." He chuckled in spite of himself. "I did a terrible job tonight, sir. I don't think… I don't think I'll be able to finish my rounds, either." The sad smile that had only momentarily appeared on Javert's face vanished.
"Don't talk that way, Lieutenant." He didn't notice he used my title again, but I found I didn't care. "Don't say such things. You're going to… You're not dying."
"You don't know that." I paused a while before adding, softly, "I can feel it." I reached out to his face, but found I couldn't reach it. He guided my hand to his cheek, and I brushed my fingertips against his sideburns. "You have… such lovely eyes…" They were brimming over with tears, though. "I remember when I first gazed into those eyes. How angry you were! It's almost funny, thinking back on it now."
"There must be a…" he started desperately, "you can't… you can't die. That's an order. I forbid you to die."
I grinned at him, trying to force back my own tears. "You can't," I said, my voice cracking. "You can't do that to me."
"You can't do this to me," countered Javert, almost angrily.
"Listen, my love," I said softly. The rain had long since stopped, and a sparrow had come out of hiding. It began to chirp carefully, unsure if the storm would return. Becoming surer of itself, the chirping grew in volume. I didn't know where it was, but I could hear it, clear as crystal. I smiled at the man I had fallen in love with. "The bird is telling you to let me go. You need to let me go." My tears fell freely, but I kept smiling, feeling ridiculous. I don't want to go! I want to stay with you! I don't want to die!
"I can't," he replied. "Not yet." He bowed his head.
"Before I go, sir," I started, ignoring his comment. He looked up at me with his searching eyes. I decided to rephrase my sentence. "Before I go, Javert, I want you to do one thing for me."
I remained silent for a moment.
"Tell me you love me."
He looked shocked. I did not smile again. "I know it will be a lie, but I want to hear this from you. My last request, Javert. I want to hear you say this. It's all I've ever wanted from you."
He appeared to be in physical pain. His face contorted and then he scrunched up his great nose, flaring his nostrils. He bowed his head and sighed, then took my hands resolutely. He would likely tell me that I was being foolish, feverish…
"Oh, Javert, look," I said, and my voice seemed far away. "A star…" It glistened right above us, alone in the sky.
The last thing I felt was those strong, warm hands over my cold ones.
XXX
When Javert raised his head, Tsura was gone. From her eyes had vanished all light. A hint of smile still played on her lips. These he kissed softly, briefly. He whispered something in the corpse's ear, then got up, carrying the girl's body in his arms, her head snugly fitting in the crook of his neck. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, and he did not blink or brush them away. He just walked down the street. Tsura's body was growing colder, ever still, ever unmoving. He unconsciously brought her closer to him.
He reached the end of the street after a while. He was in no hurry. He went up to the door, knocking with his foot. There was a brief silence, then a pattering of feet, and a click.
The door opened, a child on the other side. She was grinning broadly. "Tsura, you're home! You're back—"
Her smile vanished.
"…Tsura?"