UPDATE TWO: MONDAY 2ND OCTOBER 2006
Disclaimer: I do not own Javert, Valjean or anything else from Les Mis. Clement and Raphael, however, are mine, and any attempts to steal them shall be answered to with Law.
Author's Note: Well, here I am, typing from my new laptop! This feels so weird, but great! It arrived in the mail this morning, and means I will be able to write whenever I want without getting into fights with my dad about the family computer.
Thank you very much everyone for the wonderful reviews on chapter one, Nightmare. I really appreciate the praise.
Well… doubtless someone is going to ask me if this fan-fiction is supporting a particular pairing. Well, let me tell you now – I don't support Javert/Valjean and I would never even dream of a Javert/MOC. So maybe Clement sounds gay. Hell, maybe he is gay, I honestly don't care. Either way, he isn't hooking up with Javert, and neither is Raphael.
Just thought I'd establish it before anyone moved to ask me. I don't really like writing romance, and I'm not good at it, so… no. I'm sorry if I've disappointed you.
Regarding plot suggestions, I've just decided to close them until further notice. I have a relatively concrete plot set out, so unless I need help with my story I won't ask for it. Sorry I had to say all that, but I've received a PM I wasn't happy with regarding the plot. I'm not naming any names, I'm just saying it happened (and that if I receive one more PM suggesting that I up the rating to M and have a hard-out Javert/Valjean romance going on, I will not be a happy author).
Sorry to rant at you all… I hope to cut down on Author's Notes as this continues.
The desk was not especially elaborate – it served its purpose, and that was all Javert needed from it. It was neat – a stack of papers to the left side of it, a few folders stacked on the other side; in other words, maintaining the unique order of a desk. Each person has a certain way they like their desks to be – in fact, by looking at what one has on their desk, and what order they have it in, can be an insight to their personality. Some people have things simply strewn across the surface as though a mild hurricane has passed through them. Others have things stacked according to size, and so on. From Javert's desk, one might have perceived that he was a man fond of order who became distressed when it was not present.
Javert sat to read over the book again. It didn't look old, but one could never tell with such books. As he flipped through, he noticed a note in diary entry form that had probably been taken down by prison guards during 24601's stay in prison. The date was indiscernible – the writing was very messy, but the actual text was readable, though in a few bits Javert had to squint a little.
"Today prisoner 24601 amazed us by an amazing feat we had thought no man capable of.
One of our men went out to the yard to check on the convicts. To his astonishment, 24601 (also known as Jean Valjean) had scaled one side of the prison wall. We couldn't believe it at first, and he was quite a trial to get down, but that is what he did, difficult as it may be to comprehend.
With this small revelation, other aspects of 24601's physical ability have become a little more obvious. We have watched, with our own eyes, as he lifted a stone almost as large as his own body, and undoubtedly heavier."
Several lines scratched out and unreadable…
"We have decided to keep a closer eye on him, as he seems potentially dangerous."
Upon reading this, Javert tilted his head a little. He had seen the convict 24601… seen Jean Valjean… in his dream, and now he found that the man was potentially dangerous. Apparently he had only been arrested for robbery with violence, and then kept longer in jail for several escape attempts. All the same, this unsettled Javert. To have envisioned such a man then discovered he was real was… well… disturbing.
After a few minutes of consideration, he snapped the book shut, shoved it hastily into his greatcoat pocket, then got to his feet and left the office. Javert was a man of impulse and it occurred to him now to go outside.
Wait, go where?
Outside.
Why?
To reflect. And… just because.
For some reason Javert found himself unable to argue with this inexplicable urge. Besides, he didn't have any paperwork to do here and he might as well start patrolling early. He started out the door and then stopped as possibly the most annoying voice in human existence reached his ears.
"Inspector, where are you going?"
The day clingy subordinates stop following me like desperate puppies and miraculously vanish from the face of the Earth, thought Javert, freezing in the doorway, will be a happy one. He turned to face Clement. "I believe, Jeune," he said coolly, "that it is none of your business."
"Can I come?" Clement looked hopeful. Javert could tell that the young man was aching for a chance to prove his worth, but this was different; Javert was here faced with a personal case. He tried to avoid these if at all possible – they interfered with one's job – but this was an uncontrollable exception; not to say he was pleased with it.
He figured the answer went without saying, but said it anyway. "No."
"Why not?"
Javert sighed. "Look, Jeune. This is a personal case involving me and me alone. I don't want you to interfere."
"Inspector, I could –"
"Jeune!"
Clement abruptly fell silent. Javert continued. "Look, Clement, I am your superior," he said, using the man's first name for probably the first time, "and believe me; I would like to teach you. I would like nothing more than to have a world full of people like you, open-minded to the Law; but Jeune, if you won't listen to me and obey your superiors, there is nothing I can do for you."
The subordinate dipped his head. "I'm sorry, Inspector."
"Do you have any idea how many times you've said that in the past few hours?" Javert shook his head. "Look, it doesn't matter – I'm going now. I'll be coming back later on."
"Inspector, are you sure you don't want me to help?"
Javert had begun to walk out the door, but Clement was only a few steps behind.
"Jeune, it's fine."
"Yes, but you…" Clement sighed. "You seem stressed. Is something wrong? I mean, I know you told me not to ask, but… well…" Javert said nothing to this, allowing Clement to continue. The subordinate looked up at him. "I just wanted to make sure."
Javert gazed contemplatively at him for a moment. "No, I'm alright. I guess I'm just having… personal issues.
"They don't concern you," he added.
Clement nodded. "Alright then, but if you –"
"Jeune. Are you my psychiatrist?" Clement shook his head meekly. "Then stop speaking as if you are."
With that, he turned and simply strode off, a little more hastily than he would have usually.
The sun was high in the mid-day sky and the streets were choked with pedestrians, ambling alongside the fiacres and carriages.
There are too many people out here at this time of day… he thought as he dodged an old woman who was walking with an escort. I should really consider another route.
He moved into one of the alleys, knowing this was relatively stupid. Any number of criminally-minded people could be lurking down here – just the usual sort you found down alleys. It didn't really matter – it was day time, after all, and it was at night that the criminal population seemed to awake. Under cover of night, they could sneak from their hideaways like bugs seeping from cracks in the sides of buildings and beneath tiles, raising their heads to the night sky. Night was probably the best-suited time; at night one was harder to recognize. The dark was in alliance with the criminal underworld, providing a mask to top all masks – but at a minor price: those who fell into darkness would never enjoy the light again.
The tale of partnership between the dark and those who inhabited it has potential to become a long one, which is why we shall stop now and return to the light, where our story will continue for the time being.
The alley was, as Javert now discovered, a dead end one. He turned around with intentions of heading in another direction only to find himself faced with a man. Ordinarily he would have passed another man without a second thought, but something here anchored him to the spot – a sort of negative force that dared him to move but at the same time forbade him.
"Are you the one they call Javert?" asked the man. Javert froze. The very words from his dream. Of course, it was probably a coincidence – plenty of people about the city knew who he was and it was only natural that a few people would want to greet him like this. However, on closer inspection of the man's face Javert began to recognize him. He said nothing, for fear of stammering and disconfirming his confidence. Instead he nodded mutely, frowning. When the other man made no response, Javert ventured to speak. "And who are you?" His tone was critical and untrusting as ever, but there was a hint of uncertainty behind it, barely tangible.
The man looked at him, right in the eyes. "My name is Jean Valjean," he said, with conviction. He looked Javert up and down then nodded. "We've met."
Javert stared at him. Perhaps we have, but not in person… surely not.
"You look different, of course. Promotion? New uniform?"
The man's manner was casual and almost amiable, but the way he said it was making Javert uneasy. This man who he had met only in some twisted nightmare would approach him and speak to him like this? "I believe so, if we met when I think we did."
"Toulon, right?"
The police officer frowned. Why would a convict blatantly announce their identity to him? He was either stupid or wanted to be arrested again – but for some reason when Javert considered each possibility he could see no conclusive statement supporting either. If he were stupid, it would have been more apparent in his speech; and if he wanted to be arrested, he probably would have said so by now instead of playing these silly games. Frustration was building in Javert's mind. His level of patience had dropped considerably today already – what with Clement plaguing him at each turn – and he wanted straight answers to everything. "Look, who are you, really?"
Jean Valjean frowned. "I thought I already told you. I'm Jean Valjean – we met at Toulon prison?"
"If you are Jean Valjean," said Javert coolly, "am I to understand that you are also the ex-convict 24601?" The man nodded and Javert simply looked at him. "Why are you talking to me so openly, then? You're a con. It's just plain idiotic."
"I am talking to you openly because I'm supposed to tell you something."
Javert raised his eyebrows slightly. "Is that so? What would that be?"
"I'm supposed to tell you that you have to persevere so that –"
He stopped abruptly, gazing past Javert's head and upward. Javert ignored that, not even bothering to turn to see what he was looking at, if anything. He found himself genuinely interested. "So that what?"
"I have to leave." Valjean turned around, running for the exit.
"Now wait just one minute, I think –"
It was too late – he was gone. Javert stared at the empty mouth of the alleyway, frowning for a few seconds, then started after him; but when he was finally amongst the crowd he found that the man was nowhere to be seen. He'd simply vanished into the mass, indiscernible from anyone else, if he was still there at all.
Odd… very odd, he thought, frowning. He reached into his greatcoat pocket, contemplated the book again and then continued to watch the crowd for a while before striding off back to the police station. He had completely forgotten the original reason for leaving – he felt he had simply been motivated to do so.
I am being compelled to do these things – and they're ridiculous. Javert contemplated the recent events whilst walking. And that man. Jean Valjean. Who is he?
So you all know, there is a reason behind the random compulsions which will become clear in due course – I'm not trying to make Javert or Valjean OOC… even though they probably are.
Well, it wasn't as fantastic as my first chapter, but when I finished this off I was a little depressed, admittedly, having had a small tiff with an ex-bestie that affected me a little. I'm sorry because I feel pathetic having personal issues keeping me from posting well, but all the same… cut me a little slack.
Do, however, tell me if there is anything wrong with this chapter, which I'm relatively sure there IS, considering its current… state.
I shall post this, regret it profusely, and continue on with my life. I hope to make a mini-buffer of chapters to last me through the school term but it's unlikely considering my current mental state.
Regards…
Annabel Keys