Javert was standing on a bridge, staring at the raging waters below him. He reflected on his past, memories pouring in rapidly. Yes, a good portion of memories were about Valjean, but no, Javert was not concentrating on . . . it. All he could think about were the two women in his life. One being his mother, the one who shamed him with her gypsy life. The other being the only girl he had ever felt that heart flutter for. Needless to say, they weren't a successful couple.
At the end of his life, one strangled word escaped from his lips.
"Pitiful."
A/N: Erm, I know it's not really anything special, or even good, but I felt like posting a drabble. Please review, because I would love to be able to improve my writing.