A/N- Ah! 100 reviews! And more! I'm feeling the love! This really makes
up for the lack of response I'm getting for Legeo & Gimliet in the LOTR
category. I LOVE EVERYONE WHO HAS EVERY REVIEWED THIS FIC, EVEN THE TWO
WHO FLAMED ME!
Mlle Verity le Virago- Too short? Yeah, this chapter is way longer. The last one will be very, very short. Ah well... I play the viola. So does my Squishy. Muahahaha! I shall be his stand partner!
Altenq- Yay! A sack of Grantaire's Chrishmash Cheer for my hundredth reviewer! Nope, I don't think Bernard's as afraid of dear old Parnasse as he should be.
Elyse3- Yes, be very honored! The odd LM dreams: will they ever end?
Disclaimer- I own none of the characters appearing in this chapter. I do own The Santa Clause on VHS, but it's all messed up and the picture jumps around. Dang.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
-MUCH LATER-
Gavroche stared at the ruckus, wide-eyed. A revolution – what fun! He grabbed the magic ball and shoved it into his little bag, shimmied down the leg of his elephant, and joined the crowd in the streets.
Some fellow called General Lamarque had died, so a bunch of men were going to fight the government and win freedom! No more dodging the police, no more empty stomach! Gavroche was ready to fight.
He needed to be armed.
It didn't take too long to find something, for a store nearby had a gun displayed in the window. Gavroche broke the glass and took the weapon happily.
It was not until he had already joined the mob that Gavroche realized he might be killed. After all, that was what happened in uprisings – people died. He should tell someone where he was going...
Ducking into an alley, Gavroche extracted the snow globe from his bag and shook it. Within a few minutes, he heard a vague jingle of bells and Bernard appeared with Javert. "Heya, sport."
"Hi Bernard. M'sieur, I thought you should know that I'm going to join the insurrection."
Javert frowned. "Why?"
"Nothing else to do. It looks like fun. In case... in case I get shot, m'sieur, I wanted you to know so you wouldn't be too upset. That's all, bye!"
"No! Gavroche, wait! Gavroche-"
The boy had dissolved into the mob. Javert rolled his eyes heavenward. "Lovely. Just lovely."
"Whatcha gonna do?" Bernard asked.
Javert sighed. "Follow him, I guess."
"Want me to come?"
"No... you can go back to the workshop. You're in charge till I come back."
Bernard nodded. "Gotcha."
Javert, too, joined the insurrection.
/\/\/\
The men had built a barricade, which Javert climbed with difficulty. He reached the other side and began searching for Gavroche everywhere, but could not find him.
The gamin, sitting next to the leader of the revolution, noticed Javert. "It's not possible!" he gasped. "Us little people, we should never trust the big! Especially that one! I don't believe it!"
"What don't you believe?" asked Enjolras.
"He shouldn't be here," Gavroche cried, pointing to Javert.
Enjolras's ears perked up. "Why not?"
"He used to be in the police, you know. Name's Javert. He's Santa now."
"You're sure?"
"Of course! I didn't think he'd follow me here!"
Enjolras abruptly left Gavroche's company and whispered something to another man. Within a few moments several revolutionaries had Javert surrounded.
"Who are you?" Enjolras asked him.
Javert looked up at him, then down at his own red clothes and white beard. "Oh... I see how it is... Yes, I am. Did you like the vest?"
"You're of the police?"
"I was a representative of the law... once."
"And your name?"
"Javert," answered he. What did this have to do with Père Noël being at the barricades?
Enjolras nodded at the other men. Before Javert had time to move, he was seized, overpowered, and bound.
Gavroche saw none of this.
/\/\/\
The revolution was failing. Javert, tied to a table in the café, could hear the gunshots and cries. He was rather uncomfortable here, but there was no way to contact the elves with his arms bound.
The oddest bit of all was that Javert had seen Jean Valjean, the man he had spent the first part of his life pursuing, here at the barricades. The revolutionaries had, at his request, been transferring their prisoner from the pole where he'd been tied to the table when Javert had looked up and seen the convict standing in the doorway. He'd given up chasing Valjean long ago when he'd found the man's name on the nice list.
The sounds of battle suddenly ceased, and Javert heard little Gavroche's voice singing.
"They're ugly at Nanterre, it's the fault of Voltaire! And stupid at Palaiseau, all because of Rousseau!"
There was a gunshot. Javert's eyes widened. The opposition had apparently missed him, for the gamin did not stop singing.
"I'm no lawyer, I declare, it's the fault of Voltaire! I'm nothing but a sparrow all because of Rousseau!"
Another shot, but the song still continued.
"There's joy in the air thanks to Voltaire! But misery below, so says Rousseau."
Javert listened as this went on for a while. It seemed that Gavroche was mocking the National Guard with his song.
A rifle fired again, and the song stopped. Several of the revolutionaries gasped, and Javert strained his ears. What had happened?
"He's alright," someone gasped. "It's not fatal!" The song began again.
"I have fallen, I swear it's the fault of Voltaire! Or else this hard blow has been dealt by-"
Another shot, and Gavroche sang no more.
Two young men, covered in blood, carried the boy's body into the room where Javert was tied, lying him on the table with the body of an old man. They covered both with a black shawl.
Javert gaped at the two lifeless bodies on the table.
Gavroche was dead.
/\/\/\
A few hours had passed, and it was obvious that the barricade was going to fall. Enjolras announced to the revolutionaries that Javert was going to be shot.
Someone offered to do the job. Javert turned his head and saw Valjean receiving Enjolras's permission and musket.
No one objected.
Not even Javert.
They left the café and climbed the smaller barricade. As he passed Enjolras, Javert said morbidly, "It won't be too long."
The young man watched him leave silently.
In the alley, Javert sighed and braced himself for the shot.
It did not come.
Jean Valjean released him.
Javert turned to leave, but then stopped. "I'd rather you kill me," he awkwardly to Valjean.
"Clear out" was the response.
Javert did.
/\/\/\
Montparnasse. The thought hit Javert from nowhere.
The Patron-Minette will want to know what happened.
He decided to find them.
/\/\/\
It was evening when Javert found Thénardier on a sandy strip of bank by the Seine. He tried to catch up with the robber to tell him about his son's cruel fate, but Thénardier escaped into the sewer grating.
Javert waited.
A moment later, a different man emerged from this same sewer, covered in blood and muck and carrying another man on his back. Javert stared at the pair. "Who are you?"
"Myself," the man answered.
"Who is that?"
"Jean Valjean."
Javert blinked. Couldn't Valjean just disappear as he had done so many times before? Why was this man always in his way?
Leaning forward, holding Valjean by the shoulders, Javert stared into his dirty face. Yes, it was Jean Valjean.
"Inspector Javert, you have got me. In any case, since this morning I have considered myself your prisoner. I did not give you my address in order to escape from you. But grant me one thing."
Javert heard nothing after the word "inspector." This man still thought him to be of the police! He frowned at the sky. Valjean believed that Javert was still after him!
"What are you doing here?" Javert asked suddenly. Then, motioning to the fellow Valjean had been carrying, "Who is this man?"
"It is about him I wished to speak," Valjean answered. "You may do what you like with me, but help me first to take him home. That is all I ask."
Javert's face twitched. This stupid criminal could not see that he had more important things on his mind! Javert pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it into the river, and then put it against the unconscious man's forehead. When a bit of the muck was cleared away, he was recognizable.
"He was at the barricade," Javert muttered, checking for a pulse. "The one called Marius."
"He's wounded," Valjean explained.
"He's dead."
"No. Not yet."
"You brought him here from the barricade?"
Valjean did not seem to hear the question. "He lives in the Marais, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, with a relative whose name I forget." He found a paper in the boy's wallet and handed it to Javert.
"Gillenormand, 6 Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire."
Javert took the unconscious Marius to his home. When the fussy old women had carried the bloody revolutionary into the house, Valjean requested that he might go to his own home for only a minute. Javert rolled his eyes – of course Valjean could go home! He had no more interest in arresting him.
As soon as Valjean was out of sight, Javert left. He walked through the lamplit streets of Paris, putting together all of the things that had happened in this one day.
He had found Valjean, something that would have delighted him before his entire life had turned around on that Christmas eve at the police station.
Gavroche, the boy who had brought about this change and helped Javert to discover the life he was missing, was dead.
Dead.
Javert found himself at the river Seine. He leaned on the railing and stared into the swollen water.
He never had been able to admit to himself that he really cared for Gavroche. So many years of being the impassive and heartless first class inspector had been hard to overcome.
Now Gavroche was gone, and Javert could have saved him. Couldn't he? He had most of the world's magic on his side! Would it have really been that difficult to just ask for Bernard's help, just this once? His pride had killed Gavroche.
Javert went to the small police building near the Pont-Neuf and found a pen and paper. He scribbled down a line or two from memory, then folded the paper and took it with him outside. Again he went to the edge of the bridge and stared into the river.
What else could he do?
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Ugh, that chapter was as long as the last two put together! Oh well. The fic ain't over, chilluns! I've got one more chappie up me sleeve!
I'll miss this story.
Mlle Verity le Virago- Too short? Yeah, this chapter is way longer. The last one will be very, very short. Ah well... I play the viola. So does my Squishy. Muahahaha! I shall be his stand partner!
Altenq- Yay! A sack of Grantaire's Chrishmash Cheer for my hundredth reviewer! Nope, I don't think Bernard's as afraid of dear old Parnasse as he should be.
Elyse3- Yes, be very honored! The odd LM dreams: will they ever end?
Disclaimer- I own none of the characters appearing in this chapter. I do own The Santa Clause on VHS, but it's all messed up and the picture jumps around. Dang.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
-MUCH LATER-
Gavroche stared at the ruckus, wide-eyed. A revolution – what fun! He grabbed the magic ball and shoved it into his little bag, shimmied down the leg of his elephant, and joined the crowd in the streets.
Some fellow called General Lamarque had died, so a bunch of men were going to fight the government and win freedom! No more dodging the police, no more empty stomach! Gavroche was ready to fight.
He needed to be armed.
It didn't take too long to find something, for a store nearby had a gun displayed in the window. Gavroche broke the glass and took the weapon happily.
It was not until he had already joined the mob that Gavroche realized he might be killed. After all, that was what happened in uprisings – people died. He should tell someone where he was going...
Ducking into an alley, Gavroche extracted the snow globe from his bag and shook it. Within a few minutes, he heard a vague jingle of bells and Bernard appeared with Javert. "Heya, sport."
"Hi Bernard. M'sieur, I thought you should know that I'm going to join the insurrection."
Javert frowned. "Why?"
"Nothing else to do. It looks like fun. In case... in case I get shot, m'sieur, I wanted you to know so you wouldn't be too upset. That's all, bye!"
"No! Gavroche, wait! Gavroche-"
The boy had dissolved into the mob. Javert rolled his eyes heavenward. "Lovely. Just lovely."
"Whatcha gonna do?" Bernard asked.
Javert sighed. "Follow him, I guess."
"Want me to come?"
"No... you can go back to the workshop. You're in charge till I come back."
Bernard nodded. "Gotcha."
Javert, too, joined the insurrection.
/\/\/\
The men had built a barricade, which Javert climbed with difficulty. He reached the other side and began searching for Gavroche everywhere, but could not find him.
The gamin, sitting next to the leader of the revolution, noticed Javert. "It's not possible!" he gasped. "Us little people, we should never trust the big! Especially that one! I don't believe it!"
"What don't you believe?" asked Enjolras.
"He shouldn't be here," Gavroche cried, pointing to Javert.
Enjolras's ears perked up. "Why not?"
"He used to be in the police, you know. Name's Javert. He's Santa now."
"You're sure?"
"Of course! I didn't think he'd follow me here!"
Enjolras abruptly left Gavroche's company and whispered something to another man. Within a few moments several revolutionaries had Javert surrounded.
"Who are you?" Enjolras asked him.
Javert looked up at him, then down at his own red clothes and white beard. "Oh... I see how it is... Yes, I am. Did you like the vest?"
"You're of the police?"
"I was a representative of the law... once."
"And your name?"
"Javert," answered he. What did this have to do with Père Noël being at the barricades?
Enjolras nodded at the other men. Before Javert had time to move, he was seized, overpowered, and bound.
Gavroche saw none of this.
/\/\/\
The revolution was failing. Javert, tied to a table in the café, could hear the gunshots and cries. He was rather uncomfortable here, but there was no way to contact the elves with his arms bound.
The oddest bit of all was that Javert had seen Jean Valjean, the man he had spent the first part of his life pursuing, here at the barricades. The revolutionaries had, at his request, been transferring their prisoner from the pole where he'd been tied to the table when Javert had looked up and seen the convict standing in the doorway. He'd given up chasing Valjean long ago when he'd found the man's name on the nice list.
The sounds of battle suddenly ceased, and Javert heard little Gavroche's voice singing.
"They're ugly at Nanterre, it's the fault of Voltaire! And stupid at Palaiseau, all because of Rousseau!"
There was a gunshot. Javert's eyes widened. The opposition had apparently missed him, for the gamin did not stop singing.
"I'm no lawyer, I declare, it's the fault of Voltaire! I'm nothing but a sparrow all because of Rousseau!"
Another shot, but the song still continued.
"There's joy in the air thanks to Voltaire! But misery below, so says Rousseau."
Javert listened as this went on for a while. It seemed that Gavroche was mocking the National Guard with his song.
A rifle fired again, and the song stopped. Several of the revolutionaries gasped, and Javert strained his ears. What had happened?
"He's alright," someone gasped. "It's not fatal!" The song began again.
"I have fallen, I swear it's the fault of Voltaire! Or else this hard blow has been dealt by-"
Another shot, and Gavroche sang no more.
Two young men, covered in blood, carried the boy's body into the room where Javert was tied, lying him on the table with the body of an old man. They covered both with a black shawl.
Javert gaped at the two lifeless bodies on the table.
Gavroche was dead.
/\/\/\
A few hours had passed, and it was obvious that the barricade was going to fall. Enjolras announced to the revolutionaries that Javert was going to be shot.
Someone offered to do the job. Javert turned his head and saw Valjean receiving Enjolras's permission and musket.
No one objected.
Not even Javert.
They left the café and climbed the smaller barricade. As he passed Enjolras, Javert said morbidly, "It won't be too long."
The young man watched him leave silently.
In the alley, Javert sighed and braced himself for the shot.
It did not come.
Jean Valjean released him.
Javert turned to leave, but then stopped. "I'd rather you kill me," he awkwardly to Valjean.
"Clear out" was the response.
Javert did.
/\/\/\
Montparnasse. The thought hit Javert from nowhere.
The Patron-Minette will want to know what happened.
He decided to find them.
/\/\/\
It was evening when Javert found Thénardier on a sandy strip of bank by the Seine. He tried to catch up with the robber to tell him about his son's cruel fate, but Thénardier escaped into the sewer grating.
Javert waited.
A moment later, a different man emerged from this same sewer, covered in blood and muck and carrying another man on his back. Javert stared at the pair. "Who are you?"
"Myself," the man answered.
"Who is that?"
"Jean Valjean."
Javert blinked. Couldn't Valjean just disappear as he had done so many times before? Why was this man always in his way?
Leaning forward, holding Valjean by the shoulders, Javert stared into his dirty face. Yes, it was Jean Valjean.
"Inspector Javert, you have got me. In any case, since this morning I have considered myself your prisoner. I did not give you my address in order to escape from you. But grant me one thing."
Javert heard nothing after the word "inspector." This man still thought him to be of the police! He frowned at the sky. Valjean believed that Javert was still after him!
"What are you doing here?" Javert asked suddenly. Then, motioning to the fellow Valjean had been carrying, "Who is this man?"
"It is about him I wished to speak," Valjean answered. "You may do what you like with me, but help me first to take him home. That is all I ask."
Javert's face twitched. This stupid criminal could not see that he had more important things on his mind! Javert pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it into the river, and then put it against the unconscious man's forehead. When a bit of the muck was cleared away, he was recognizable.
"He was at the barricade," Javert muttered, checking for a pulse. "The one called Marius."
"He's wounded," Valjean explained.
"He's dead."
"No. Not yet."
"You brought him here from the barricade?"
Valjean did not seem to hear the question. "He lives in the Marais, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, with a relative whose name I forget." He found a paper in the boy's wallet and handed it to Javert.
"Gillenormand, 6 Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire."
Javert took the unconscious Marius to his home. When the fussy old women had carried the bloody revolutionary into the house, Valjean requested that he might go to his own home for only a minute. Javert rolled his eyes – of course Valjean could go home! He had no more interest in arresting him.
As soon as Valjean was out of sight, Javert left. He walked through the lamplit streets of Paris, putting together all of the things that had happened in this one day.
He had found Valjean, something that would have delighted him before his entire life had turned around on that Christmas eve at the police station.
Gavroche, the boy who had brought about this change and helped Javert to discover the life he was missing, was dead.
Dead.
Javert found himself at the river Seine. He leaned on the railing and stared into the swollen water.
He never had been able to admit to himself that he really cared for Gavroche. So many years of being the impassive and heartless first class inspector had been hard to overcome.
Now Gavroche was gone, and Javert could have saved him. Couldn't he? He had most of the world's magic on his side! Would it have really been that difficult to just ask for Bernard's help, just this once? His pride had killed Gavroche.
Javert went to the small police building near the Pont-Neuf and found a pen and paper. He scribbled down a line or two from memory, then folded the paper and took it with him outside. Again he went to the edge of the bridge and stared into the river.
What else could he do?
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Ugh, that chapter was as long as the last two put together! Oh well. The fic ain't over, chilluns! I've got one more chappie up me sleeve!
I'll miss this story.