by KnightMusic
Part 2
Disclamer: The Phantom of the Opera is not mine, neither character nor story. Nor can I claim Javert. He belongs to Victor Hugo. But I promise that neither shall come to any harm under my care, and shall be put back when I'm done with them. I'm certainly not making any money off this, so copyright infringement is not intended.
"And this is my guest room," Erik concluded, waving at an intricately carved wall. Javert's puzzlement must have been as transparent as it felt, and it elicited a slight laugh from Erik. "Watch," he said, and touched a carving, causing the wall to swing away, revealing a plainly furnished bedroom. Javert arched his eyebrows appraisingly. "You will be staying in here. Heaven knows why I built it, I never expected to have guests," Erik shrugged slightly, and gestured for Javert to enter. "I will be around if you need me, goodnight." And with that, he turned and was gone, leaving Javert alone in the room.
For a moment, he simply stood by the door, listening. Erik's footsteps grew gradually fainter, and finally disappeared. Hesitantly, he placed his hand on the handle of the door. Unaware of the fact that he was holding his breath, he pressed his weight against the door, and was surprised to find it open.
He stood there, for a moment simply numbed from this new circumstance. Something inside him yelled for him to move forward, seize this chance and escape, but yet his legs would not obey him. Instead, he drew back into the room, allowing the door to close with a slight click.
This was unexpected, and something he was not at all prepared to deal with it. He couldn't stay here, that much was certain. But neither could he bring himself to betray this man. The official report classified him as a deranged lunatic; a maniacal murderer. 'But if that was true,' Javert mused, 'why was he standing here in this room, this unlocked room no less, instead of lying dead in that cellar?
He was at a loss as to a course of action to take. It was clear what his duty expected of him, but he could neither bring himself to do it, nor bring himself to ignore it.
A thought occurred to him at that moment. Erik knew the door was unlocked, that much was obvious. Javert might have been young, but he had the instincts and intuition of a man twice his age.
"So," he thought aloud, as he began to purposefully pace the length of the room, "if he knows the door is unlocked, that means he knows that I could discover that and escape. He also knows that if I did escape, it would be my duty to turn him in."
Javert's eye caught himself in the mirror and he moved in front of it to speak to his reflection. "But, unless for some reason he wishes to be captured, he would not allow that to happen. Therefore," he stated firmly, as if coming to some profound conclusion, "He must know something about his home that would make my escape impossible, or would kill me in the process."
Obviously, if he was to be of any help to the force, getting himself killed would not be an advantage. "So," Javert moved back from the mirror, a resolute expression on his face. "I stay here until the right moment presents itself." With that decided, he began to prepare for bed.
He could have sworn he heard a noise at that moment, like the rustling of silk, but met only darkness when he looked into the hallway.
Had he looked a moment earlier, he might have seen the dark shape slip off in the shadows. He might have heard that velvety voice whisper, "Bravo boy, you've passed the first test."
He might have, but he didn't.