Author's Notes: Well, yet again, I apologise for the delay. I've been very very busy with rehearsals for The Secret Garden, and college work – so I just haven't had the time. Also I'm going to update both today and tomorrow as well, aiming to get this fic finished by Friday. I know it seems like I'm rushing, but if I don't update it by this week it won't be finished till about June time. I've got a whole bunch of other fics (original and fan) waiting to be put up. Anyways…reviews! Eponinenkind: I made you cry? Sorry! *hugs Mika* Erin: Thank you for your kind words..and tissues are probably a good idea : ). LadyLaura020: I promise to read your original story the moment I have time…is it up on the new site? Happy Hobo: *laughs* Isn't everyone a Moulin Rouge fan? I had to include some bohemians after reading a "Victor Hugo's France" article, where it said that bohemians were everywhere in the time Fantine was around. With regards to Julien…he is in the book. I can't recall what page he's on (I'll try to find out by tomorrow) but he is there. I agree with you that it makes no sense, but it had to be put in. Marzoog: Argh! Erik is not evil, he's just misunderstood! Raoul is a…a…FOP!! *clears throat* Uh, thank you for your very kind review. I do the quizzes, the results are in my Blurty. Meujandi, Black Hawk Down, Pat, Emmy, Iliana, Prisnor no.24601 and Ponine1989: Thank you all...very much.
And now on with the chapter! I apologise for the amount of dialogue taken from the book…but there's really not much else I could do. It's also the first time I've ever even attempted Javert, so if he's completely out of character I'm sorry.
Lovely Lady
I'd lost all my dignity. If just a few months ago you'd told me I would have become a prostitute I would have screamed. But now I've come to this – a short haired, gap toothed lady of the night, prowling in front of an officer's café wearing the dress Tholomyes gave me (with the sleeves cut off and the neckline lower) and dried flowers in my hair. I never would have thought it, but the other girls were my kindred spirits. Some had sold their hair, some had sold their teeth - there was a girl called Nettie, who only had three teeth remaining in her mouth.
I was a "lovely lady" for only two months. And in that time I had only three customers – a nervous twenty year old who wanted to get "in practice" for his wedding night, and who eventually became so nervous that he threw the money at my feet and ran out the door. A wealthy land owner who was old enough to be my father and would lie on top of me for hours, nearly crushing me with his weight. And last of all (the night before everything happened) an Englishman who repeated "I can't believe I'm doing this" over and over – then forgot to pay me.
The other girls and I used to drink brandy to keep us warm and get rid of any modesty we might have. It made me have a quick temper however, and it was the brandy that was really at fault that night.
I was walking on what the other girls called "La Blonde's Patch", the thin straight line in front of an officer's club. There was a man stood in the doorway of this club, wearing a warm and rich looking coat and smoking a pipe. He was what we ladies called "a fop". Rich, good-looking, but slightly dull. I can't recall his name; in fact I don't think anyone ever told me.
The fop found my lack of hair and front teeth very amusing – and blew smoke in my face. I kept my eyes fixed on the snow on the ground and continuing pacing back and forth.
"Well you're a pretty one," the fop said, mockingly. "What's your rate then?"
I started counting my steps. Eleven, both ways.
"Come on love, I'm a possible customer. What's your rate?"
I ignored him. I had a habit of ignoring potential customers who annoyed me, that was probably why I'd had so few in my short "career".
The fop looked annoyed as I turned my back on him and began to walk to the right of the door.
Suddenly there was a shoot of cold between my shoulder blades, which slithered all the way down my dress. Reaching back with my hand I realised – the fop had put snow down my back! If I hadn't been drinking so much brandy, I probably would have ignored the bitter cold now covering my back and simply moved to a different spot. As it was, I turned to him and screamed like a wildcat.
He laughed, having gotten the reaction he wanted and turned as though to make his way back inside the club.
I took a ball of snow in my hand and leapt on his back – pushing it down his collar.
He cried out, very much like I had, and I scratched his face shouting various obscenities I had learnt on the street.
He fell backwards, losing his balance, and we both landed outside the club in the snow. I kicked out at him, colliding with his cheek and he tried desperately to defend himself.
A crowd gathered. Fellow prostitutes shouted encouragement, and a few well-dressed gentlemen tried to intervene to save the fop.
Then one voice louder than the others (Nettie I think) cried "run Fantine!"
I looked up, probably to ask why, and someone grabbed me by my corsage.
"You come along with me," the person said curtly.
It was Inspector Javert. He was a terrifying presence, forever stalking the streets, and had no patience for prostitutes. I'd only seen him from a distance before, but now his face was close to mine.
As quickly as I'd lost my temper I became silent, and began to tremble.
Inspector Javert walked the whole way to the police station, dragging me with him. The crowd who had gathered to watch the fight followed us, hooting with delight.
We entered the police post – a low room with a stove. I crouched in the corner, as close to this stove as I could get, and watched Inspector Javert with wide eyes. He sat at his desk, writing silently. He didn't acknowledge me.
When he was done, he handed the paper to another inspector and turning to me said, "you're getting six months"
I moaned. "Six months! But what about Cosette? I still owe more than a hundred francs to the Thenardiers!"
Inspector Javert wasn't listening of course, he'd moved onto another piece of writing.
I dragged myself along the floor until I was at his feet. "Monsieur Javert, I beg you to be merciful. It was not my fault"
Still no reaction.
"I was wrong to lose my temper, but when something ice cold is pushed down your back when you aren't expecting it you lose control"
Inspector Javert still did nothing,
"Don't send me to prison! They'll turn her out into the street – my poor Cosette. Have pity on me Monsieur Javert!" I clutched at the hem of his coat.
It was immediately wrenched from my grasp, and Inspector Javert coldly looked at me. "Is that all you have to say? You're getting six months and the Eternal Father himself can't alter it"
He turned his back on me, and two policemen pulled me to my feet. I was trying not to scream when a gentle voice came from the shadows.
"One moment, if you please"
The two policemen holding me froze as the mayor emerged from a corner. All three policemen bowed – the two holding me forced me to bow too. But I flung them aside and planted myself in front of the mayor.
Then I spat in his face.
One of the policeman gasped, and Inspector Javert began apologising "she's very unstable Monsieur le Maire. Please forgive her"
Why I'd done it I don't really know. I suppose that after the mayor being my scapegoat for so long, I really did believe that he was alone responsible for what had become of me.
The mayor coolly wiped his face. I was really in trouble now – but what was one more month in prison? The mayor turned to Javert. He was going to order a longer sentence.
"Inspector Javert, this woman is to go free"
I reeled, clinging to the stove. Had the mayor just ordered my freedom? The two younger policemen stared at me in disbelief, obviously trying to work out if I was the mayor's daughter or niece.
Inspector Javert couldn't seem to believe it either, he opened his mouth but no words came out.
"To go free!" I murmured, still not believing it. "I must have misheard it. It couldn't have been that monster, the mayor. Did you say it, good Monsieur Javert? It couldn't have been the mayor" I slithered to the mayor's feet. "He sacked me because of something the other girls said."
The mayor knelt down, so he was at my level. "How much do you owe these Thenardiers?"
How did he know that? How long had he been standing there? "Am I talking to you?" I snapped. "You brute of a mayor, you've come here to frighten me but I'm not afraid of you. You've no right to be listening to what I tell Monsieur Javert"
The mayor stared at me, his face gently and kind.
But I wasn't falling for that again. His face had been kind, right before he told me I couldn't have my job back. I turned to Monsieur Javert. "I'm not very well, like I said, I cough a lot and it's as though I had a lump burning inside me. Please, if I spend six months in prison I wouldn't be able to keep my Cosette alive! But you're kind Inspector Javert, you're fair"
He made no answer, I could go! I rearranged my dress and went to the door. "The inspector says I can go, so now I'm going"
I had my hand on the door handle when Inspector Javert cried "who said you could let her go?"
The mayor spoke again. "I did"
My headache resurfaced. Hadn't it been Inspector Javert who instructed for me to be set free?
The mayor was arguing with the inspector. "It was the man who was at fault, and it was he who should have been arrested"
"The woman flung herself on Monsieur Bamatabois…I am holding her"
The mayor folded his arms. "I order you to release this woman"
"But Monsieur la Maire – "
"That's enough"
"But –"
"Kindly leave the post"
Inspector Javert looked astounded, but bowed to the mayor and left – his cold grey eyes sweeping over me as he went out the door.
I stood still, rubbing my aching head. The mayor had saved me! I spat in his face, and he had saved me! My hatred (never really based on any real fact) was quickly replaced by trust.
He turned to me. "I heard what you said. Why did you not explain your circumstances when you came to see me in my office? Why did you not appeal to me? No matter, I will pay your debts and arrange for your child to be brought here. You will live here or in Paris or where you choose. You need not work if you don't want to. I will see you have what money you need. Let me assure you that if it has been as you say (and I do not doubt it) then you have been nothing but virtuous and chaste in the eyes of God. My poor girl!"
It was more than I could bear. To have Cosette! To be cared for, not to worry about money. I wanted to thank the mayor, but I couldn't make a sound. My legs gave way beneath me and I fell to my knees. I grabbed the mayor's hand and kissed it.
Then all was black.
