A/N- It's almost Christmas!!!!!! Huzzah! If you reviewed, I LOVE YOU!
THANK YOU SO VERY VERY MUCH!
Oh, and my good friend Emma pointed out that in an earlier chapter I said "I am Erin, crazy North Carolinian teacher" which should read "I am Erin, crazy North Carolinian /teenager/" I'm too lazy to fix it.
La Pamplemousse - Again I thank you for reviewing. Heads up for lemon squares in this chapter.
AmZ - Um . . . okay. *smiles blankly*
s n o g g i n g withdrawal - This story is gonna be so long I'm never gonna be able to start the other fics I wanna do! AUUUUGH! Oh well.
The Phantom Parisienne - I am very honored. *bows to the floor* Thank you.
Elendil Star-Lover - I'm glad that I am found humorous, although this chapter I find rather depressing.
Elyse3 - You have /no/ idea how hard it is to give Javert a heart. He's so . . . Javert.
Disclaimer - I don't own Les Mis. Or Javert or Gavroche or Parnasse. Well, I do own /a/ Javert, Gavroche, and Parnasse, but they aren't the ones in this fic. (It's the ones in my attic.)
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
A week or so later, Javert awoke to find he had fallen asleep at his desk again. Luckily, Bertrand had not yet arrived to take over his shift.
Javert heaved himself up out of his chair and shuffled over to the small mirror. He caught a glimpse of his reflection, began to turn away, and suddenly stopped dead.
Inspector Javert slowly turned around to face the mirror again.
He was huge.
Javert shouted and began to back away from the mirror, but only succeeded in tripping over a chair and falling backwards onto the floor. The windows rattled.
He scrambled to his feet and looked in the mirror again.
Javert had a double chin and his greatcoat looked rather strained. He shook his head, nervously watching his chins wobble. "Something's wrong with the mirror!"
He wrote a scribbled note giving an excuse for his absence to Inspector Bertrand and scrambled out into the street.
When Javert arrived home, he slammed the front door and locked it.
"Look at me!" he shouted.
A button popped off of his greatcoat.
Javert quickly unbuttoned the coat and threw it into a corner. He had to find something to wear that he could still fit into. He rushed up the staircase and into his bedroom, and he yanked open the closet door.
Everything was in his usual size, of course. Javert began rooting through the clothes and finally found an old, out of date police uniform he had worn when he was first stationed in Toulon. Being a jailer had inspired him to be a little more fit in order to be more intimidating, and before long the uniform had been far too large.
Javert pulled it on, carefully ignoring the holes in the armpits and knees.
It was a perfect fit. He was turning side to side, trying to make himself look thinner by sucking in his massive gut, when someone knocked on the door.
Javert rushed downstairs and pulled it open. A ragged little girl stood before him with a letter in her hand. Javert took the letter, reached absentmindedly for his purse, and handed the gamine a coin. He did not notice her squeal of joy as she held the gold Napoleon up to the sunlight and, having verified that it was real, scampered off to the market.
Javert pulled open the letter. It was a reminder for the meeting to happen at the station later that day. He moaned.
(Pause for breath)
An hour or so later, Bertrand stood before a room of police, checking to see who was absent. Inspector Javert suddenly threw open the door and took a seat near the back of the room, ten minutes late.
Everyone was choking back hysterical laughter. Javert looked as if he weighed twice as much as he had only the week before and apparently all he could find to wear was an outdated uniform covered in holes.
Javert did not seem to notice the muffled giggling. "Inspector Javert, what happened to you?" Bertrand asked incredulously.
"Um . . . a bee sting. Yes, it turns out I swell like this whenever I get stung by a bee. But my doctor says the swelling will go down."
"Alright, Inspector, we were just telling Etienne what we wanted for lunch," Bertrand explained.
Javert opened his mouth to order, but Bertrand spoke before he could. "A small salad, if you please."
Etienne nodded. "That's salads for everyone, three large ones and six small ones. Monsieur Inspector?"
Javert smiled. "Alright, I'm ready. Ice cream, if they have it, and maybe some lemon squares. Yes, lots of lemon squares. About six. Lemon squares are really yummy. And a nice, tall glass of cold milk."
Silence filled the station. Everyone stared at Javert. "A bee sting, Inspector?"
Javert nodded.
No one believed him.
"It was a big bee," Javert said quickly.
Bertrand stepped out into the street. "Inspector Javert, follow me."
Javert complied, and when the door was firmly closed, Bertrand turned on him. "What was that?"
Javert raised his eyebrows innocently. "Lunch?"
"That, Inspector, was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard from you. You're slipping, Javert. Look at you! This old uniform covered in holes, you're about as thin as that red-haired woman we keep jailing, you know who I mean-"
"Isn't her name Thénardier?"
"Thénardier, Jondrette - no one really knows. But this is not the point, Javert. You need help. A doctor, I don't know. Just get help."
Bertrand turned to go back into the station, but stopped. "And when was the last time you trimmed that beard? I can't even see the sideburns you used to be so proud of. Javert, I don't want to see you at this station until you've cleaned yourself up."
Bertrand slammed the door in Javert's face.
Javert stared at the closed door for a second, the began to slowly back up. His foot caught on a cobblestone, and he fell into a sitting position on the street. "He just let me go," Javert whispered to himself.
"Really?" came a voice from right next to his head.
"Wha-" Javert leapt to his feet. Gavroche stood next to him.
Gavroche did not seem to notice that he had nearly caused Javert's early death. "You mean you aren't an Inspector now?"
Javert blinked slowly, and his mouth dropped open. "I'm . . . not an Inspector . . . anymore."
Gavroche nodded. "D'you think maybe now Parnasse will leave you alone?"
Javert's facial expression reminded Gavroche of the look on his own father's face when he first found out that Javert had been moved to Paris.
"I . . . I need to be alone," Javert muttered, then took off down the street.
Gavroche waited until he was a good distance away, then began to follow.
Oh, and my good friend Emma pointed out that in an earlier chapter I said "I am Erin, crazy North Carolinian teacher" which should read "I am Erin, crazy North Carolinian /teenager/" I'm too lazy to fix it.
La Pamplemousse - Again I thank you for reviewing. Heads up for lemon squares in this chapter.
AmZ - Um . . . okay. *smiles blankly*
s n o g g i n g withdrawal - This story is gonna be so long I'm never gonna be able to start the other fics I wanna do! AUUUUGH! Oh well.
The Phantom Parisienne - I am very honored. *bows to the floor* Thank you.
Elendil Star-Lover - I'm glad that I am found humorous, although this chapter I find rather depressing.
Elyse3 - You have /no/ idea how hard it is to give Javert a heart. He's so . . . Javert.
Disclaimer - I don't own Les Mis. Or Javert or Gavroche or Parnasse. Well, I do own /a/ Javert, Gavroche, and Parnasse, but they aren't the ones in this fic. (It's the ones in my attic.)
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
A week or so later, Javert awoke to find he had fallen asleep at his desk again. Luckily, Bertrand had not yet arrived to take over his shift.
Javert heaved himself up out of his chair and shuffled over to the small mirror. He caught a glimpse of his reflection, began to turn away, and suddenly stopped dead.
Inspector Javert slowly turned around to face the mirror again.
He was huge.
Javert shouted and began to back away from the mirror, but only succeeded in tripping over a chair and falling backwards onto the floor. The windows rattled.
He scrambled to his feet and looked in the mirror again.
Javert had a double chin and his greatcoat looked rather strained. He shook his head, nervously watching his chins wobble. "Something's wrong with the mirror!"
He wrote a scribbled note giving an excuse for his absence to Inspector Bertrand and scrambled out into the street.
When Javert arrived home, he slammed the front door and locked it.
"Look at me!" he shouted.
A button popped off of his greatcoat.
Javert quickly unbuttoned the coat and threw it into a corner. He had to find something to wear that he could still fit into. He rushed up the staircase and into his bedroom, and he yanked open the closet door.
Everything was in his usual size, of course. Javert began rooting through the clothes and finally found an old, out of date police uniform he had worn when he was first stationed in Toulon. Being a jailer had inspired him to be a little more fit in order to be more intimidating, and before long the uniform had been far too large.
Javert pulled it on, carefully ignoring the holes in the armpits and knees.
It was a perfect fit. He was turning side to side, trying to make himself look thinner by sucking in his massive gut, when someone knocked on the door.
Javert rushed downstairs and pulled it open. A ragged little girl stood before him with a letter in her hand. Javert took the letter, reached absentmindedly for his purse, and handed the gamine a coin. He did not notice her squeal of joy as she held the gold Napoleon up to the sunlight and, having verified that it was real, scampered off to the market.
Javert pulled open the letter. It was a reminder for the meeting to happen at the station later that day. He moaned.
(Pause for breath)
An hour or so later, Bertrand stood before a room of police, checking to see who was absent. Inspector Javert suddenly threw open the door and took a seat near the back of the room, ten minutes late.
Everyone was choking back hysterical laughter. Javert looked as if he weighed twice as much as he had only the week before and apparently all he could find to wear was an outdated uniform covered in holes.
Javert did not seem to notice the muffled giggling. "Inspector Javert, what happened to you?" Bertrand asked incredulously.
"Um . . . a bee sting. Yes, it turns out I swell like this whenever I get stung by a bee. But my doctor says the swelling will go down."
"Alright, Inspector, we were just telling Etienne what we wanted for lunch," Bertrand explained.
Javert opened his mouth to order, but Bertrand spoke before he could. "A small salad, if you please."
Etienne nodded. "That's salads for everyone, three large ones and six small ones. Monsieur Inspector?"
Javert smiled. "Alright, I'm ready. Ice cream, if they have it, and maybe some lemon squares. Yes, lots of lemon squares. About six. Lemon squares are really yummy. And a nice, tall glass of cold milk."
Silence filled the station. Everyone stared at Javert. "A bee sting, Inspector?"
Javert nodded.
No one believed him.
"It was a big bee," Javert said quickly.
Bertrand stepped out into the street. "Inspector Javert, follow me."
Javert complied, and when the door was firmly closed, Bertrand turned on him. "What was that?"
Javert raised his eyebrows innocently. "Lunch?"
"That, Inspector, was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard from you. You're slipping, Javert. Look at you! This old uniform covered in holes, you're about as thin as that red-haired woman we keep jailing, you know who I mean-"
"Isn't her name Thénardier?"
"Thénardier, Jondrette - no one really knows. But this is not the point, Javert. You need help. A doctor, I don't know. Just get help."
Bertrand turned to go back into the station, but stopped. "And when was the last time you trimmed that beard? I can't even see the sideburns you used to be so proud of. Javert, I don't want to see you at this station until you've cleaned yourself up."
Bertrand slammed the door in Javert's face.
Javert stared at the closed door for a second, the began to slowly back up. His foot caught on a cobblestone, and he fell into a sitting position on the street. "He just let me go," Javert whispered to himself.
"Really?" came a voice from right next to his head.
"Wha-" Javert leapt to his feet. Gavroche stood next to him.
Gavroche did not seem to notice that he had nearly caused Javert's early death. "You mean you aren't an Inspector now?"
Javert blinked slowly, and his mouth dropped open. "I'm . . . not an Inspector . . . anymore."
Gavroche nodded. "D'you think maybe now Parnasse will leave you alone?"
Javert's facial expression reminded Gavroche of the look on his own father's face when he first found out that Javert had been moved to Paris.
"I . . . I need to be alone," Javert muttered, then took off down the street.
Gavroche waited until he was a good distance away, then began to follow.