**He had headed toward the Seine, hoping that the river's cool air would help calm the maelstrom inside his head. Javert had always been impeccable and dignified, yet emotionally frozen. Tonight, his façade had cracked. Never before had he been shown kindness. The criminal who he had haunted, tracked, and obsessed over dominated his life. Suddenly, the balance had shifted, and the thief had pardoned him; an inspector! This demonstration had involuntarily melted something inside the inspector. Even as he searched for the man, Jean Valjean, Javert felt himself becoming more reluctant. Finally, he had been given the chance to end his tireless hunt and be forever free of Valjean, and his accursed conscience had gotten in his way, destroying everything. Since his birth, he had been made to follow strict rules. Javert was Romany, a gypsy, and scorned because of it. Only two options were available to him: he could follow in his father's path and become a thief, or he could turn around and be the exact opposite. Two paths, good or bad, praised or scorned, respected or reviled. He stood over the river, stunned and confused. Those two paths, painfully strict at times, had been a comfort; structure in a world of mayhem. Now they divided, making him decide where his loyalties lay. There was still the path of the criminal, but now instead of a clear-cut righteous path, he could arrest his prisoner and be legally correct, or let him go and be morally correct.**

A soft drumming echoed far below Pont Notre Dame. The Seine ran under the structure, colliding with its solid stone legs. The water recoiled as soon as it hit, writhing and churning in its attempt to continue flowing. Javert stared down at the frothy water and winced as he found the similarity between it and his thoughts.

"Why?!" he yelled out into the night. The dark sky gave no reply. "What do I do?" Javert's tone softened. "Give me a sign, I am lost"

A flash of light sprung up from the whirlpool's depths; a reflection cast from some hidden star. Again it came, seemingly out of the water's depths. The inspector's desperate searching mind rested upon this phenomenon, and took it as the awaited signal. He lifted his creased face to the cold, black sky; a sad smile slowly inched its way across his face.

"Thank you" he whispered, sighing slightly.

Javert steadied himself on the thick stone ledge of the bridge and gazed upwards for a final time. Only darkness greeted his gaze. Below him, however, light played on the tumbling current of the river, creating a shining spectrum. Taking a breath of the damp night air for a final time, Javert stared at the whirlpool below, and let himself fall.