Author's Note: I am so sorry for how long it took to get this up! I promise the next one shouldn't take more than this. Thank you so much to the people who stuck with this story and have been reading and reviewing since the beginning, and thank you to my more recent readers. You guys have truly been inspiring me to keep going with this story with your kind reviews and feedback. I've been working really, really hard on this story and the closer I get to the ending, the harder it is to write. However, again, thank you so much for being patient with me on this, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! A virtual cookie for all!
Elisabet sat in her little wooden chair and watched the clock tick away the minutes. The air was still hot and damp, making her feel all the more restless.
She had to get up sometime. She had promised Javert the other day that she would be at his house at seven, and it was now a quarter after six.
Try as she might, however, she could not bring herself to move. Elisabet did not want to go live with Javert- just thinking about her hesitation surprised even her. She could tell that when she initially rejected Javert's offer- or rather, demand- he was shocked. And, under normal circumstances, it should have made her happy that he would even ask. She loved Javert, and all she wanted was to be nearer to him, to make him happy, to wake up to him and fall asleep beside him.
But no. These were anything but normal circumstances. Javert didn't really want her to be there to be close with her, he wanted her there so that he could keep an eye on her.
Like a child.
That's right. He could hold her, kiss her, give her gifts, but at the end of the day she was just an immature, idealistic child that he had to constantly fret over. She clenched her jaw and balled up her fists at the thought, then shook her head to try and get rid of the sudden anger that hit her. True, she was upset, but when it came down to it, Javert cared about her and, like he said, just wanted her safe. Besides, he was probably swamped with work judging by how stressed and agitated he looked when he went to see her.
Perhaps the time she spent with him could help him relieve stress. Perhaps it could even change his mind on going out there.
Javert was a high ranking official, Elisabet reasoned, surely he didn't have to go fight if he didn't choose to. He could just as easily stay behind and relay commands to his men.
Yes. If she couldn't save her boys, she could at least save Javert. There was her happiness. Her silver lining. Her chance for redemption.
With a sigh, Elisabet stood and rubbed her eyes sluggishly, stretching out. If she didn't force herself to go now, she never would.
After packing enough clothing to last a week or so, Elisabet heavily shuffled down the stairs, each step feeling like it was the last time she would touch it. It felt as if there was a hand on her back stretching from her flat, pulling her back, aching for a breath of life in the empty rooms. Nevertheless, she looked ahead determinedly, knowing that if she looked back, she wouldn't be able to get herself out for another hour or so.
Elisabet swallowed hard when she flipped the sign to 'closed'. She pressed her hand against the doorframe and leaned her forehead against it, letting a few hot tears roll smoothly down her cheeks and unpleasantly stick to her neck. When that little episode passed, she collected herself and hoisted her bags up so that they were resting on her shoulders, slowly opening the door and shutting it behind her even slower.
It took a minute to lock the door because her hand was shaking, but when she did Elisabet found herself unwilling to lay the key on top of the door where it belonged. She pressed the cold metal to her lips when her conscious ambushed her.
You call these schoolboys yours, yet here you are running away when they ask for your help, it said to her. You are abandoning them.
They abandoned me, she told herself. They isolated me and left me.
Running away.
Helping Javert.
If you truly cared, you would do something.
Do something! Then it hit her. Elisabet knew she couldn't just leave without saying goodbye, even if they hadn't talked to her for months. If she couldn't protect her boys, she could be damn well sure that she wouldn't leave them with nothing.
She grasped the key strongly in her hands and walked towards the café- not timidly like she did last time, but stronger, with a purpose.
It was reasonably crowded, though Elisabet could not pick out any familiar faces. She scanned the room until her eyes rested on Marius Pontmercy, climbing the side stairs that led to the wine room.
"Marius!" she called, pushing through the crowd with her bags making her at least three feet wider than normal. People grumbled as she shoved through, some who recognized her giving her dirty looks. He turned back and his eyes widened briefly at the sight of her and, for a moment, it looked as though he was going to come downstairs.
Instead, he took an uncertain step upwards, then glanced back down at her nervously.
Elisabet began to climb the steps before a thick arm blocked her way and made her stumble backwards into the wall.
"Hey!" she protested angrily.
"No entry, Mademoiselle."
"This is important!"
"No entry." Try as she might, Elisabet could not shove aside the large man. After a few hopeless grunts and attempts, she crashed against the opposite wall, panting.
Giving up, she looked up at the man with wide eyes, standing close to him and resting her hand gently on his bicep. "Please, Monsieur, I am just a weak young woman. Surely a strong man such as yourself you could let me through for just a few minutes?"
Elisabet held out hope as the man's eyes temporarily traveled from her face down south and back up. He shook his head back into concentration. "No." he finally said.
She groaned in frustration and turned to the boy on the stairs. "Marius. Please. I have to talk to Enjolras." She pleaded.
He glanced down at her once more and bit his bottom lip. "I don't think he'll talk to you."
"Try."
And so he ran up, and she stared down the guard for a tense sixteen seconds. When she heard footsteps again, she looked back up. "Well?"
Marius merely shook his head sheepishly before returning to his comrades.
Elisabet let out a frustrated groan and looked at her feet.
She had to do everything herself, didn't she?
"Okay…okay." Elisabet nodded. She turned to the man and smiled sweetly, "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Monsieur."
She walked away and counted three seconds before dropping her bags and turning around, sprinting upstairs for dear life.
Marius flattened himself against the wall, out of her way, and the guard stood stupefied for a second before chasing her.
She ran up and scanned the room quickly and saw him, bent over a piece of paper with several other boys.
"Alexandre!" she called across the room. His head shot up and his large, expressive eyes widened in surprise and confusion as the other boys turned from her to him. She ran over to him just as the guard reached the steps.
"Get back here!" the man said angrily, coming towards her.
"Wait," Bahorel called from the opposite corner, putting his hand on the man's shoulder, "wait a moment."
"Thank you" she mouthed to him gratefully before turning back to Enjolras. Sensing that she had quite a small amount of time judging by the terse stares of the guard and most of the people in the room, Elisabet quickly strode over to Enjolras and pulled him to the window, away from everyone else.
She pulled him close and pressed her key into his hand.
"Take this. I'm leaving, I can't say for how long, but the cellar is fully stocked. Whatever you need, take it, it's yours."
I didn't do anything to you, she wanted to say next. I lied to the only person who gives a damn about me for you. Don't do this.
All of the thoughts swirling in her head made her words get caught in her throat, however; as a result she merely looked at him in the eye with a bit of tenderness, a bit of defiance, and determination to show him that though she didn't agree with them, she would try to keep them alive.
He stared back, so close that Elisabet could clearly hear his quiet, shallow breaths and see the stubble that came from several days of being too preoccupied to shave.
It suddenly hit Elisabet that this could potentially be the last time she saw him. Hugging him felt wrong- he certainly wouldn't appreciate it in front of his colleagues, and he had alienated her for so long. Instead, she tried to memorize his face, his strong jaw, his well-sculpted cheek bones, his flyaway curls… Alexandre Enjolras would have been remarkably handsome man, she thought ruefully. He was so strong… he had to get through it. He had to.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded to him and walked away, realizing that during their whole moment, it was dead silent in the room.
Elisabet locked eyes with as many of the schoolboys as she could, grasping Grantaire, Marius, and Bahorel on the arms before she walked back down the stairs and picked up her bags.
She spent the whole walk to Javert's staring down at her feet, thinking about everything and nothing at all.
In fact, Elisabet was so far from her body that she did not even notice Javert's door until it greeted her forehead.
"Argg!" she screamed, falling backwards. Unsure of what had happened at first, Elisabet just realized that she was on the ground when the door swung open.
Javert looked down at her, eyebrows raised.
Well, damn.
"I don't know why I expected anything better" she said quietly to herself, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders.
"Would you prefer to sit down inside?" he asked.
She opened her mouth for a snarky retort before she realized that, in her current position, nothing would really come off as well as she wanted it to. Instead, she nodded. "I would" she said, waving his helping hand away and struggling up with her bags, stumbling before being able to stand fully erect.
"Shoes" he said mechanically, pointing at her feet as soon as she stepped onto the mat.
"Jacket" she responded, pointing to his chest. "Lilybet" she said, pointing to herself. "Etienne" she said, pinching Javert playfully on the cheek and kissing him before he grimaced, pulling away.
"That is not funny."
"Well I'm laughing."
"Take off your shoes."
"Yes, sir."
Once her footwear was removed, Javert took the bags from Elisabet and she felt significantly lighter, unaware of how heavy they had begun to get.
"You carried these all the way here by yourself? You should have let me help you." He admonished.
"I wanted to go alone" she responded, taking the lighter one back from him. "So, where should I go?"
"I will show you to the guest room. I had Sophie make the sheets up."
Elisabet followed him up the sweeping staircase, acutely aware of the feeling that she was in a large, empty box. Although she knew Javert was here every single day, it felt like there was no life in these steps, in these barely furnished rooms. It felt very lonely.
She walked into the small, plain room and set her bag down on the floor beside the bed, very familiar with it despite only being here once before. She sat down on the bed and Javert stood hesitantly in the doorway.
"Woah."
"What?"
"Déjà vu" Elisabet said, noting the peculiar feeling that overtook her. Shaking it off, she laid eyes on her host, just as hesitant as the last time she had been in his house. "Did you eat dinner?"
"Yes."
"What'd you have?"
"Two slices of bread with cheese and butter."
"That's not a meal!"
"I found it adequate."
"Would you like me to make you something?"
"No."
"Come on, not even a little something? I can make myself something too if that'll make you feel better…" her voice trailed off and was replaced with a low rumbling. Elisabet looked down at the offender- her stomach.
Like an earthquake, it began slow and she tried desperately to stop it as it grew louder and more insistent. It felt like an eternity to her before it died out.
Maybe Javert didn't hear it.
Maybe it was like chewing- loud sounding only to her but quiet everywhere else.
She cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks burning. "So-"
"-I believe I have some sort of meat in the ice box."
Javert folded his hands behind his back and paced out of the room lightly in a way that told her the sound was not at all in her head. Well, that was a good start to her stay.
Elisabet quickly stood and followed him, trying to explain.
"I-I didn't- that wasn't what you probably think-"
"Yes it was."
"Yes it was." She agreed miserably, hugging the culprit.
"If you are hungry you could easily just say so."
"No I can't!"
"Why not?"
"Well… I just can't, okay? I can't. It's weird. Too demanding."
"It is better than trying to force me to eat more."
"No I wasn't forcing you, I don't want to be the only one eating?"
"Well then you will not be eating."
"Ugh! Fine, what do you have? Oh dear, this is so… ugh."
"Women" Javert grumbled, going through his ice box.
"Inspectors" she said, mimicking his tone.
Ignoring this, Javert pulled the first thing he found out of his ice box.
"Will this do?"
"What is it?"
"Meat."
"What kind of meat?"
He frowned at the unidentified red chunk. "I am not sure."
"So what were you planning on doing with it?"
"Sophie will probably cook it for something."
"You're such a man!"
"I should hope so."
Elisabet snatched the meat from Javert's uninformed hands and looked closely at it. "I'm pretty sure it's beef."
"Pretty sure?"
"I don't know, probably"
"If you do not know why do you expect me to?"
"Because this is your house! Don't you go grocery shopping?"
"Sophie does it."
He could ride a horse like he was born on one, he had incredible powers of pursuit and deduction, yet the impassive, fearsome Inspector Javert was completely clueless when it came to his own shopping. The thought made Elisabet laugh, shaking her head. She stood close to him and put her hand on one scraggly cheek, stood on tip toes, and kissed him.
Her face was barely an inch from his and Elisabet couldn't help but scan his face, looking at each of the features. The bags under his eyes had gotten heavier with lack of sleep, and his stress-induced wrinkles had increased. His face had gotten slightly leaner as well, the gray hairs on his beard outnumbering the sandy ones and making themselves present in his thick hair as well. She ran her thumb gently over his cheek, looking at him with concern. Of course, how could she be so ignorant? She spent so much time worrying over her boys that she had not even thought about the increased pressure all of this had been giving Javert. Come to think of it, he had been working much more this past week, she had barely seen him.
"You work too hard." She said softly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and running her hand through his hair.
"There is no such thing."
Well, she couldn't really expect anything else from him, she thought sadly. She looked into his cool, pale green eyes, a surge of affection going through her.
She gave him a small, sad smile before turning to the sink and washing the meat.
"I'll go shopping tomorrow and find you some proper food." She announced.
"No" Javert said right away, throwing her completely off-guard.
"What do you mean 'no'?" she asked, flabbergasted.
"I do not want you leaving this house, it is far too dangerous."
Elisabet could do nothing but stare at Javert, her eyes wide open in disbelief.
"Are you kidding me?" she asked blankly.
"I want you to stay where I know you are safe. I have a large home, a library, and a garden. You will have me for company, and Sophie will do any shopping you need-"
"-wait wait wait no. Hold on. You're holding me hostage in your house?!"
Javert stepped back, offended. "I told you yesterday that you must stay here for your protection."
"You didn't tell me that I'd be trapped here."
"You are not trapped. You merely must stay here until this…"
"…breaks out into a big, bloody explosion. Yes, I know. And how long will that be?"
"Not long, I fear" Javert mumbled, his eyes clouding.
"What?"
"I was thinking aloud."
"And I heard you. How long will it be? How do you know it won't be long? What do you know?"
"I am not authorized to give you that information."
"I'm not a spy, for Christsakes."
He drew himself up to his full length and spoke in the cool, emotionless voice that annoyed Elisabet beyond belief. "I am a very high ranking official. I have information that I am not allowed to share with anybody but a select few."
"You can't keep me here in the dark."
"I told you too much already."
"Nothing more than I already knew." Why was he being so frustrating? Who was she going to tell? The more Javert denied her answers, the more Elisabet wanted them. "You'd better give me a damn good explanation for why I'm holed up in here or- or-"
She looked around desperately in an effort to find something that would convince Javert. Her eyes rested on the large staircase and an idea hit her over the head.
Her eyes flitted back to Javert for a split second and his eyes widened. The corners of her mouth twitched like the tail of a cat about to pounce on his prey.
He knew what she was going to pull.
Before he had time to react, Elisabet sprinted three at a time up the steps, panting when she got to the top but not stopping. She bolted into Javert's room as his heavy but powerful footsteps echoed close behind.
She had reached the large, antique bookcase just in time and pulled out the first old, leather bound volume she found.
No sooner had she gotten a grip on the book than Javert appeared, resting his arm on the doorframe for a millisecond before Elisabet felt arms wrapping her tightly around the waist and she herself being lifted up by the waist so quickly that she was disoriented for a brief moment.
"Well that's a new way to sweep me off my feet."
"Put it down." Javert commanded from behind her, the only thing visible to Elisabet being his forearms.
"Give me a real explanation!" she exclaimed, opening the book and pinching a page between her thumb and forefinger.
"That book is nearly three times older than you are"
"Everything starts to fall apart with age."
"Including my patience."
"You tell me or I pull." For extra measure, she tugged slightly on the page, the parchment straining. Would she really deface a beautiful old text? No. Did Javert know that? Hopefully not.
"Stop it."
The slight shake he gave her made Elisabet lose her already tenuous grip on the book and it fell, wide open, on the floor.
Javert released her and she stumbled, nearly falling, when she hit the ground and he dove for the book, showing more emotion in that three second action than she had ever seen in the ten and a half years she had known him.
The guilt that then crept over her made Elisabet regret her actions of a minute ago. He replaced the book on the shelf carefully.
Still, however, her pride could not allow her to apologize. After all, he was keeping secrets from her. He should apologize, she told herself.
"Tell me."
He turned around and sighed, still crouching.
Though they remained calm, Javert's pale green eyes clearly reflected one thing… that he was simply tired. She saw it in the wrinkle in his forehead. She saw it in the dark rings under his eyes. Elisabet was supposed to be his escape from these things, yet here she was, throwing his books around.
She walked over to him and put her hands on his shoulders, then bent over and draped herself over his back, letting her arms hang freely, lightly brushing his legs.
"I didn't mean to upset you" she murmured, placing a soft kiss on his ear.
"I am not upset."
"You're never anything." She exhaled, rubbing her forehead against the epaulette still on his shoulder.
"What would you like me to be?"
"Honest. I want you to be honest. I want you to tell me what's going on and why I'm here, and I want to help you in any way I can and then some."
Elisabet was painfully forced to remember looking Javert in the eye as he lay in the hospital, telling him that she knew nothing then. Suddenly, any words having to do with honesty tasted like bile in her throat.
Javert looked up at her again and stood. He put one hand on her back and used the thumb and forefinger of his other hand to rub the bridge of his nose. Elisabet leaned her head against his chest, crossing her arms.
"Whatever I may tell you is classified information."
"I'll be in here; I won't tell."
"The rebels' main meeting place is the café near your shop."
"You said that already."
"The leader is the blonde boy who used to assist you. Alexandre Enjolras is the name."
She knew that as well. Hearing him say his name though, so foreign-like, so coldly… it sent a shiver down her spine as if the knowledge was brand new.
"Is there anything I haven't heard?"
Javert looked ahead and blinked, not saying anything, his face blank and calculating. Elisabet often thought of Javert's mind as an immense library, heavily organized with laws, protocol, and, far in the back, his gloomy past. She watched him now, un-shelving and re-shelving various books, skimming through information to see what he could tell her and what he could not.
"It will be soon" he finally said.
"How soon?"
"This week, maybe next."
She pushed herself further against him, pressing half of her face against his uniform, thick and stiff even in the summertime. After all these years, his scent had not changed a bit. It was strangely comforting, that as the world was spinning out of control right under her, this one, silly, insignificant thing that meant the whole world to her remained fixed in time.
This week, maybe next.
Grantaire's words echoed in her head.Maybe sometime next week.
What, then? Was that a lie? Or were they planning for it later this week? Her head swirled unpleasantly and she reached one hand up and clutched Javert's uniform, a feeling of nausea overtaking her. Maybe it was happening this week, and he made the promise in certainty of their victory?
But then if they won, Javert would be dead. They would kill him, she knew it.
Elisabet imagined Javert and herself, sitting in his house and just eating breakfast. Suddenly, the door is knocked off of its hinges with a menacing creaking and splintering of wood. It would be her dear drunkard Grantaire, solemn Enjolras, and sweet Pontmercy, standing in her doorway with muskets in their hands. Their- blue, brown, and hazel- eyes were burning with righteousness and victory.
She forced her imagination to cut short just as they took Javert, him trying to fight. If that should happen… well, he was bigger and stronger than them, he could certainly take one and maybe even two, but all three?
Then what would the alternative be? Javert fights them off, and they die, and she could do nothing to stop it. Would she be angry at Javert? She knew that she should be, but could she bring herself to go against him?
Of course, a voice said, Elisabet should be biased towards Javert. These boys worked for her, but he was her one true friend.
But so were they. They kept her company, didn't they? They made her laugh and helped her and when they thought Javert was trying to arrest her, even tried to get her out of that. They even trusted her with their secret. Would she trust anyone but Javert? No: until as recently as a few months ago, she didn't fully trust him- although she would never tell him that. But they did trust her.
Not anymore though, she told herself glumly.
Elisabet closed her dry eyes after realizing that she had not been blinking. She felt like falling, like curling up into a ball, like throwing up and simply ceasing to exist. She wished that someone would show her the right thing to do. But alas, she was an adult, not a little girl. She had no mother and father to point her in the right direction. Even if she did, she very much doubted that she would listen.
Stubborn. She gritted her teeth and pounded the words into her head. Stupid, stupid stubborn girl.
Javert grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his uniform and up to his face. Her frowned at it, his brow furrowed, then looked at her with the same exact expression.
"Your hand is shaking."
Elisabet blinked at her hand and noticed that, indeed, it was trembling even in Javert's grasp. She realized that she must have been clutching him hard.
She snatched her hand away sheepishly, rubbing her wrist and anxious to try and get her mind onto other things… like what she and Javert would do for the next week or two.
"So I suppose you and I will just sit around here and try not to get bored of each other."
"I will be working."
"What?" Elisabet lightly pushed herself away from him and the hand that was on her back fell limply to his side.
"My hours have been extended so that I will be working and going on my patrols from seven in the morning to seven thirty at night, as well as being on twenty-four hour call should anything occur."
"W-what? No, what? Why?"
"Because I am Inspecteur Général."
"Exactly! You're Inspecteur Général! You're high enough that you can delegate, can't you?"
"Speaking technically I could; however, to perform my duty fully to my expectations, I must take it upon myself to do the work."
Elisabet looked down at the floor. "You told me before that with your promotion came certain responsibilities. Tell me more about those."
"You do not want to hear about them."
"I don't." she agreed firmly. She looked up and stared hard into Javert's eyes. "Tell me."
Now it was his turn to study his feet. Javert took a breath, his expression dead-pan, and began explaining as though he were reading out of an encyclopedia. "I am in charge of every police force in Paris. I sign all arrest warrants, and the execution signatures for highly charged criminals. All of the inspectors in the area send reports to my office for my approval of their arrest numbers, trials, records, etcetera. In times that they are deemed necessary, I work with the Colonel-General and lead the police alongside the National Guard."
"Lead them against what?"
The telltale look he gave her was enough to answer her question.
Elisabet cocked her head and shook it slowly as her fears were realized. "Oh no. No no no no."
"It is my-"
"-duty, yes. and who's idea was it to give you this duty in the first place?"
Javert stiffened, slightly offended. "I have earned it."
"You earned the right to die?"
"You do not believe in me."
"That's not what I- I meant- ung." Elisabet took a breath and closed her eyes while leaning against the bedpost. "The Prefect. Monsieur Vipond. Is he going out to fight?"
"No."
"Then why are you?"
"It is my responsibility to my king and country."
"Do you not realize what will happen?! You want to charge against-"
"-against a band of rag-tag, poorly armed schoolboys and their small following."
"Poorly armed, but still armed. I heard about the uprising in Lyon. I know you did too. What was that, another rag-tag group of poorly armed civilians? These people are stronger than you think. They have a spirit and a dream and are not afraid to pull the trigger on anybody who stands in their way. You'll make it ten times easier for them if you're charging them in front of a band of soldiers."
"It is an honor to fight for what is right."
"This is bullshit. Everyone on every side thinks that he's right. You are all fighting for what is 'right'. Surely you could find someone else to go out there, someone seasoned and trained-"
"-I have been training since I was twelve years old. I was admitted into the army at seventeen. I marched through the Russian Empire, fought battles in the bitter cold, and manned a ship while being shot at by cannons in the open ocean. I have been an Inspector for well over a decade." Javert's eyes turned cold as he listed off his impressive resume, biting the edge of each sentence. Elisabet knew that she was making him angry, and she knew that he hated, above all else, when she criticized his priorities.
But right now, she didn't care. She wasn't losing everything, and if Javert ended up resenting her, well, she wished him a long and healthy hate.
Elisabet was so wrapped up in her own emotions, trying to use reason, any reason, that she had stopped thinking about what she was saying. She let the words slip from her mouth before she had a chance to realize what she was saying.
"That was years ago. Look at you now, you're too- too-"
She tried to stop herself, but it was too late.
"-old." Javert finished curtly, staring hard into her eyes.
The beat of silence that followed was not unlike one heard after a gunshot: thick, anxious, and with a sense of being too late.
She bit her lip hard as if it were her body's desperate attempt to punish itself for the slip.
Her lower jaw trembled just trying to find things to say. His face was hard and impassive, but Elisabet saw the pain beneath it. She had humiliated him- she, of all people, had said that to him.
She waved a useless hand at him imploringly, beseeching him with her eyes.
What else could she say? What could possibly make this better?
"Etienne, no, I- that's not what I meant, please-"
He spun on his heel and had his back to her, scanning his books. Or, at least pretending to.
"I must retire. I have work in the morning."
Javert quickly began marching out of the room. Elisabet ran after him.
"Wait! You're not sleeping in your room?"
"No."
"Where are you going to sleep?"
"Elsewhere."
The door was slammed shut just in time for Elisabet to jump out of the doorway, the wind from the force whipping her in the face.
Damn me, she thought. Stupid, idiot, insensitive me.
She made a mental note to stop trying to help. No matter her intentions, things always ended the same- if they associated with her, they got hurt.
Elisabet put her hands on Javert's night table to steady herself and looked up into the small looking glass he had, just large enough to see her face.
"I hate you," she spat at her reflection, "you're so selfish, trying to keep him here, that you don't care if you hurt him. Selfish, ignorant brat. Well, now he's gone and you're alone, just like you deserve to be."
With nobody else in the room, Elisabet felt a burning sensation behind her eyes and she looked up, but it was useless- each time she blinked, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks until she found herself curled in a ball beside Javert's bed, her body shaking with sobs. Elisabet felt like she was drowning, water rising up and filling her ears and her mouth so that she couldn't hear or breath.
What had she done? Where had he gone?
She couldn't move. The water was pressing her from all sides, keeping her curled up, her tears only adding to her liquid prison.
Pull yourself together! Whether it was from outside, right next to her, or in her head, Elisabet could swear that her uncle's voice floated through her ears. You only have a right to feel sorry for yourself after you've exhausted every possible effort to make things right. If you think he deserves better then give it to him.
Elisabet wiped her tears on her dress and nodded determinedly to herself. She needed to find Javert.
She stood, her mind reeling, thinking of places he could be. She ran to the guest room, the bathroom, down the stairs and into the kitchen… nothing. Could he have gone outside? She tried to think back to a few minutes ago- did she hear the door close downstairs? She thought that she might have, but then again it could have been her mind playing tricks on her.
No. There was no time to overanalyze. She had to find him and make this right.
Elisabet choked down whatever hesitation she had and stepped out into the dark night, trying to keep her fear at bay.
The stars were twinkling down, faded due to the hazy clouds that had been hanging over Paris these past few days. Nevertheless they stayed, staunch and unwavering, the one thing that never changed in this rapidly crumbling society.
It gave Javert some sort of comfort, the fact that centuries after he would be dead and forgotten, these same stars would shine down, ever-vigilant, everlasting.
The house that the government had issued to him looked rather like a large rectangle built from gray stones. The roof was flat, allowing him access from a small attic staircase to sit and ponder. He knew that it would not do for him to go all the way to his special place, he could not leave the house in the middle of the night with Lilybet in it, but he needed to get air.
He remembered her voice, high-pitched and desperate, as she said those words to him.
True, he reasoned, he did not let her finish her sentence, so she could have been saying anything.
But no. What else could it have possibly been? Not to mention the way she looked at him when he predicted her last word, how her eyes widened and her face took on the expression of the gamins he would apprehend trying to pickpocket people in the market. He had caught her before she caught herself.
He knew she meant it, though she tried to tell him otherwise. It is when people are upset that they lose the filter that keeps them from telling people how they truly feel. Lilybet felt that Javert was old.
And he was- at forty-seven, he was the oldest patrolling officer, though he was certainly in better shape than many of these scrawny, lanky boys that were recruited these days.
Do not be angry with her, Javert told himself, she was only stating the truth. But it really was not Lilybet he was angry with- Javert was angry with himself.
Angry with himself for being old, for getting himself involved with a girl who was so different, and for letting that girl affect him as much as she did. People had always said things about Javert: when he was a dirty street urchin, he was regularly spat on- and that was only if he was lucky. When he joined the ranks of the police, the higher he climbed the harder people judged him on his shameful background.
But hearing those words from her… he cursed himself for letting it hurt. Is this how people feel on a regular basis, he wondered as he looked up at the stars, normal people, who form normal relationships and live normal, happy lives? He leaned against the chimney, his hands holding his bent knees, and closed his eyes. Javert inhaled the night air, muggy yet cool with the absence of the day's heat.
Didn't she understand that his place was among his men? He was bound to the law, ever faithful to it. And why should he not be? It had rescued him from the deep, dark hellhole he was born into. It gave him a roof over his head, food in his belly, and he never would have met Lilybet. Now, with his widespread reputation as the cold, impassive, ruthless Inspector Javert, he had in effect become the law.
And the law bent to no one.
These schoolboys were plotting to commit treason. How could they possibly think that breaking the law was right? And how could Lilybet pity them? Man could choose two paths in life: the path of light and the path of dark. It was Javert's job to punish those who chose unwisely. But Lilybet… she was good, Javert knew she was, even if she did not think so herself. However, there was no denying that she was misguided in her affections. Those boys caused a riot that almost got her killed, yet Javert saw her get thinner and more careworn day by day because of her worry for them.
On the other hand, because of Javert, she had gotten in harm's way multiple times. Because of Javert she was probably fuming right now in his guest room, angry at the fact that she was being "held captive" in the house of an old, stoic man who was dead set in his ways, probably regretting the fact that she ever gave him the time of day. She had probably removed her necklace as well.
Javert sighed shakily and opened his eyes, running a hand through his graying hair. He recalled the words he spoke to her when the madness began, as he lay immobilized on her floor.
"When you love someone, you want what is best for them. Sometimes, that means recognizing that it is not you."
It was true. And wasting her young, vibrant life on Javert was not what was best. She needed someone young and free and lively, someone with who this would not be a problem in the first place. Someone who could protect her without her feeling like she was a prisoner.
Could he do it, though? He had to. The first time, it had been hard, but Javert managed to never open a single letter she had written, never raise a pen to contact her. She was at a distance and his life had returned to normal. And then when he had to run into her again- or rather, arrest her. Javert knew right then that to resume contact would be harmful for her, yet he could not find the strength to make it stop. And where did this lead them? To Lilybet, angry in his house, and Javert, angry on the roof. Now, he could not leave without leaving his heart behind.
No matter, a voice said to him, men like him had no use for hearts.
His stomach dropped and Javert suddenly felt hollow, like someone had removed all of his insides through his navel. He steeled himself against emotion and garnered the courage to do what he had to do right now. Was it really worth it, to give up the one person who ever cared about him, just because it was what he thought was best?
Yes, his conscience said, because he was doing it for her.
It was funny, in a dark way, that he was ready and willing to throw himself in front of a group of trigger-happy boys, but trembled at the thought of calling off a relationship.
Well, he might as well do it now while it was fresh in his mind.
Javert stood, his knees creaking ever so slightly in the thick atmosphere. He scratched the back of his neck and opened the tiny attic door and descended the old, rickety staircase.
Javert's feet echoed loudly in the still night. Too loudly. He listened for a moment- could she have been asleep? He opened the door to his room and found it empty. Mostly likely she had settled into the guest room by now. Lilybet tended to get tired when she was stressed, so it would not have been unexpected for her to change and curl up in bed already.
He lit a candle and tiptoed down the hall so as not to disturb her slumber. If she was asleep, he would have to tell her tomorrow night when he got back from work. Right now it would calm his nerves just to see her safely in bed under Javert's protection, confident that nothing, at least for the night, would hurt her.
He pushed the door open a little bit, careful not to let it creak much. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness and noticed that the bed looked rather flat. He pushed it open a little wider and held the candle inside. He took a few steps in and lit a lamp.
The room was empty.
Not bothering to keep himself silent any longer, Javert took quick, long strides down the stairs. He lit lamps in the bathroom, sitting room, dining room, and kitchen. Indeed, she was nowhere.
In a last ditch effort, he went out to the garden to discover it just as lonely as it had always been.
In times of crisis or heavy duress, Javert could always be relied upon as a calm, calculating man. And so he stood in the dim foyer, trying to logically figure out where she could be.
It did not take him long to come to the conclusion that she must have gone back to her house in anger.
Of course that was what it was. And she left her things- she was agitated, so she must have not been thinking.
Funny that she got so upset; it was, after all, Javert who was offended.
Does that matter now? A voice asked.
Without another thought, he took his hat out of impulse and stuffed his feet quickly into his shoes. This area, so close to Saint Michel, was especially dangerous at night. And with Thenardier lurking the streets under legal immunity, well, it made Javert's blood boil just thinking about it.
He did not have a second to lose. Sending a silent prayer for her safety, Javert swung the door open and moved to go outside.
He heard the gasp just as the force of a body knocking into his made him step backwards.
Obviously someone on high had heard him, he thought as relief washed over him and he stared into a pair of frightened blue eyes.
"What were you doing outside at this hour?" he growled at her.
She shrunk back at his tone, looking much smaller and demure than usual. "Looking for you" she mumbled.
Javert immediately felt stupid- out of all the reckless, stupid ideas he thought that she might have had, he did not actually think of the scenario with her caring about him.
Not sparing another second, Lilybet immediately lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing herself against him as hard as she could. He stumbled, acutely aware that she was slightly cutting off his air. She did have a strong grip for someone with skinny arms.
It was now or never, he told himself. Obviously she had been delivered to him so quickly because God supported his decision. Even He knew Javert was no good for her.
He put his hands on her shoulders and tried to gently push her off, but she would not budge- whether it was because she did not feel it or did not want to, he did not know.
He sighed, looking down at her thick, honey-brown mane.
"Lilybet, I-" he briefly realized that it was one of the first times he used her name right off the bat.
"-shush," she cut him off, "don't talk. I'm so glad you're safe-"
"-that I am safe?"
"And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I have no idea how I could possibly make this better, but I know apologies won't help but I don't know what else to say. I was wrong to say that, I was angry and upset and I didn't mean it."
He felt his resolve melting. This time, Javert moved her with a bit more force and held her by the shoulders, about a foot away from him, staring her in the face.
Javert licked his lips and forced himself to maintain eye contact. "L-Lilybet, we need t-to talk-"
"-wait. I'm sorry, I just have to get this out." She put a hand on his elbow and held it, as if letting go of any part of him would make him disappear in an instant. "I'm sorry to cut you off but I did a lot of thinking. When you left the room, I just… I got scared. I had to open my big mouth and I went too far. I felt disgusting. But then, I knew I had to pull myself together. Sitting in your room and crying wouldn't have made anything better. I thought about how patient you are with me, how kind and understanding you've been, and I felt awful. I knew you deserved better than someone as immature and selfish as me. I decided then that instead of wallowing in self-pity, I would make things right. I would make myself better to deserve you, starting with making things right. Then I got worried. I didn't know where you'd gone or if you were okay. I guess you have some room in your house that I don't know about because I was sure I had checked the whole place. Anyway, I didn't find you so I wasn't just going to wait around and see if you would come back. What if you had gotten hurt somewhere? I had to go find you. I went outside and went to the police station, to the river, and then finally to the special place you showed me. You weren't up there, but the sky looked so beautiful that I stopped and looked up at the stars. You know what I realized up there? I realized that I never actually told you that I love you. I told you that I loved you, I admitted it when they almost killed you at the riot, and I guess I must have alluded to it when you were at my house, but I never really said it outright. I'm going to say it now. I love you, Etienne, I love you more than anything. I don't want you to go out there- not because you're old, you're not, I said that because I'm just a disgusting brat- but because if anything were to happen to you… I just don't want you to die. It's selfish, I know. But you've made me so happy. I don't want you to die for something that you don't have to fight. If I knew that I could have prevented your death, I could never live with myself if I didn't do everything I could to stop you. Please, I beg of you. I love you. I don't want to lose you so soon. I want to spend my life with you and I want you to get a chance to look down at a child that looks just like you, someone who doesn't care about your background just like me and who loves you unconditionally purely because you are the reason they exist. I want you to see that there's more to life than what you've chosen for yourself. I'm not asking you to change, I love you the way you are, I would never ask you to change who you are. But I want you to stay away from harm. Please, I'm so sorry for what I said. I'm so sorry for this weird tirade. I'm just… I'm so happy you're safe."
Javert was speechless.
Again, she had caught him off-guard with a situation he had not expected.
Remember what you were going to do, a voice was fighting to be heard in the back of his mind, but Javert barely heard it.
It only then registered that she was right, that neither of them had said it directly to each other yet.
His heart took over. On impulse, Javert pulled her into him again, one hand holding her head to his chest and the other pressed against the small of her back. He closed his eyes and inhaled the earthy, herbal scent of her hair. He felt her clutch the cloth of his uniform.
It felt like an eternity that they stood there that way in the open doorway. He did not know what he would do, he did not know what would happen, but one thing was for certain- he was too weak to let go. He needed her.
"Do not leave this house again, it is extremely unsafe. You are lucky that you did not run into mischief tonight."
He felt her nod against his chest without a fight. He thought he heard a thick, muffled "okay" as well.
His common sense chastised his weak resolve. It would have been best to tell her straight away that she deserved better, and she needed to go find it when this was all over. But even so, he thanked the Lord, once again, that she was there, safe, and that for some reason He saw it fit to send a star down to him. Deep down Javert knew that a man like him could never, ever change. And he thanked his strange luck that she did not want him to.
"Come inside" he said gently, pushing her through the doorway.
"You know I didn't mean it."
"I know" he assured her.
Lilybet walked inside and stopped at the couch, noticing the blanket and pillow folded.
"Am I sleeping there now?" she asked, confused.
"That is where I am sleeping."
"Why?"
Javert hesitated for a split second- if he told her the real reason, she would insist on staying with him, which was completely improper and out of the question.
"To give you the privacy of the whole floor." He lied.
"Can you even fit on this couch?"
"I fit enough."
"I really don't care if you sleep in your room."
"I care."
"I would actually rather you did, in fact."
"I would rather stay here."
"Because you like the couch or because you're on a different floor?"
"The latter."
She furrowed her brow and looked down at the pillow and blanket, visibly thinking hard while chewing her bottom lip.
It must have been a full minute before she spoke again.
"Actually, can I have the couch? It looks comfortable."
Javert looked at her skeptically. "Really?"
She sat down on it and a wide smile broke out on her face as she sat back. "Yes, yes this will do nicely. I guess you'd better sleep in your room. You know, your bed. That you actually fit on."
Now he saw what she was doing. "You do not have to do this."
"Hey! I'm the guest, and I say I want this. Go. Go to bed. Go." She got up and began waving him away and one corner of Javert's mouth raised slightly in amusement at her bad attempt at a nonchalant attitude.
"Very well. Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes, I'm just going to go get changed quickly."
Seeing as she truly was his guest, Javert did not feel it was appropriate to retire until she was comfortably situated in bed. He waited outside as she changed into a white, surprisingly modest nightgown.
Lilybet stood at the edge of the couch, staring at him with eyes filled with a love and concern that he never thought anybody would look at him with and he, in return, did not think he would look at anyone with.
"Get to bed. Sleep well. Goodnight." She said, standing on tip-toe to softly peck him on the lips. Then, as an after thought, she added, "Hey, Javert, what were you saying earlier? You started to say something when we were at the door but I cut you off."
"It... is no longer important. You do not have to worry about it, I took care of it. Pleasant dreams, Mademoiselle." He let the title escape his lips out of habit. She chuckled at the label and covered herself with the blanket, laying back on the pillow.
Javert shook his head and walked quietly up the stairs, much too happy for his own liking. There was a storm coming, and he had pulled Lilybet right into the center of the whole thing.