Éponine lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, remembering the blistering feeling she'd had after kissing Javert's cheek. That had been two days earlier. He'd been awkward and distant since then, though it was hardly as though Éponine could blame him for that.
She had decided over the last few days that Inspector Javert was the most handsome man in all of Paris. He was old, she thought, and stubborn and single-mindedly focused on the law and righteousness. But he exuded allure, somehow, in a way that Éponine wouldn't have been able to explain. At meals, she'd felt dizzy and weak sitting beside him. Warming his bed, she'd smelled his distinct aroma in his bedroom and had been almost taken over by it. She gulped now as she lay in her bed and pulled at the hem of her nightdress beneath her blankets.
She touched the pads of her fingers between her legs and shut her eyes, feeling dampness and spreading her legs just a little bit. She thought of him, of Inspector Javert, and she flushed more wet than ever. She imagined his face, his broad chest in his uniform jacket. Suddenly Marius seemed a world away and not very appealing anymore. Suddenly Éponine's head was filled with dinners spent at the little kitchen table, eating bread and bacon with the inspector, talking with him about his work, talking with him about the weather, and there were nights like this. Nights in her quiet, still bedroom with its whitewashed walls and its simple metal-framed bed, its cosy quilts, its little fireplace.
Éponine pushed her fingers back and forth a few times and mewled softly, unable to keep silent. She pulsed her fingers there against her nub, thinking of him, thinking of this life, of the time they spent together, of his shoulders and his jaw and his nose and his chin. She thought of his eyes, dark and piercing, of his deep, booming voice. It was so much, too much, and suddenly Éponine snapped like a wire.
She cried out, arching her back up and not realising how loud she'd been. She couldn't help herself. It felt good. It felt so good, the way her body was responding to the thoughts of him. It felt like Heaven, the way her body was shaking and clenching around her fingers in response to the idea of him.
"Éponine?"
She gasped and turned her face to her door as it opened, and Javert stood in the doorway holding a candle, looking concerned. He eyed her carefully and asked,
"Another nightmare?"
"Erm…" Éponine had always been a very good liar, but suddenly she found herself unable to formulate the words of a lie. She couldn't figure out how to explain what had happened. Somehow he seemed to understand, for a strange flash came over his eyes as Éponine sat up slowly. She stared right at him and said quietly,
"I'm fine. I'm so sorry I woke you, Inspector."
"It's no trouble. Goodnight." His cheeks had darkened visibly in the candlelight, and he was blinking quickly where he stood. He turned and started to go, but Éponine flew from her bed and whispered,
"Wait. Please."
"Éponine." He shook his head, facing away from her, and he insisted, "I apologise for… I thought you were having a nightmare. I thought I could help. I was being a fool."
"No. You were…" She reached for his shoulder, encouraging him to turn round, and when he slowly did, he stared down at her with wide, searching eyes and parted lips. Éponine whispered gently again, "I am so sorry for waking you. Inspector."
"You were thinking of that boy, Marius," Javert said, very firmly, his voice harsh and almost cruel. His face hardened, as if he'd already made up his mind, but Éponine shook her head and insisted,
"No. Of you."
His throat bobbed, and he murmured,
"Goodnight, Éponine."
"One kiss," she beseeched him, for she'd stolen one from him and she badly wanted another, a real one, one he gave her freely. She stared up at him and he stared down at her, until finally he set his candle down on the little table beside Éponine's bed and cleared his throat clinically. He took Éponine's face in his hands and stared some more, just studying her for a very long moment. His hands were rough, like they'd been calloused through years of holding reins and batons. He dragged his thumbs beneath her eyes, and he told her,
"Make me a promise."
"All right." Her brows knitted together, and Éponine put her hands to his broad, hard chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his nightshirt. He told her,
"Promise me you will use this opportunity to make a new life for yourself. That you won't go back to that old way. Promise me that, and I will kiss you."
Éponine felt her eyes well. Did she ever want to go home? No. Not really. She would be just fine if she never saw her parents again. Marius cared nothing for her, not really. And she cared less for him with every passing day. And she hardly missed being filthy and cold and hungry. She nodded and vowed to Javert,
"I swear it, Inspector. I shall start anew, as you say. I shall keep my new clothes and get a position as a maid somewhere, or -"
He cut off her words then by lowering his mouth to hers, and Éponine squealed a little in surprise. She moved her hands immediately from his chest to his cheeks on instinct, and then they stood there, him towering over her, holding her face, her holding his, and their mouths were locked together. Éponine opened her lips a little, and his tongue snaked in a bit. He licked at her lip and then dragged his tongue over the roof of her mouth, and Éponine moaned softly against his lips.
"Inspector," she whispered in wonder as he pulled away, and she felt something firm pressing insistently against her abdomen. He shut his eyes and murmured far more insistently this time,
"Goodnight, Éponine."
This time, she let him go.
"Are you angry with me?" Éponine asked at breakfast the next morning. Javert looked up from his porridge and shook his head.
"No. It was my fault. I am the one who lost control."
"Control." Éponine's chest crumpled at that, but she gulped and nodded.
"I am far older than you, and ought to know better," he said, spooning more porridge into his mouth.
"How much older?" Éponine blurted, and he gave her a strange look.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I am seventeen. I'll be eighteen in the autumn," said Éponine. "How much older are you? Inspector?"
"That is precisely none of your business," he barked, and he stood with his bowl of half-eaten porridge. Éponine huffed; she'd angered him. That was the last thing she wanted today. She chewed her lip and said angrily,
"I'm sorry. I have learnt much about your youth, your military service, your work in the police. I know enough to do some rough arithmetic. I would guess you're between forty-nine and fifty-six years of age, but I -"
"I am fifty-two," snapped Javert, working in the kitchen with his dishes, "though, again, it is precisely none of your business."
"I'm sorry for my curiosity, then," Éponine said softly. She stared at him. He was already in his uniform, ready to leave for a day of work. He didn't need his outer coat today, but he started to slide on his boots. They were still relatively muddy from the day before, and so Éponine rushed over with a brush and knelt before him. She started to scrub at his boots, loosening dirt and then brushing the clumps into a dustbin and putting them into the special dirt bin by the door. She stared up from where she knelt, and Javert was giving her a very strange look. He held out a hand, and Éponine put her fingers into her palm. When she rose, he informed her,
"I like this dress best on you. This green one. It looks very nice with your dark hair."
"Oh." Éponine's eyes seared all of a sudden. She nodded. "Thank you, Inspector."
He bent and swiftly planted a few kissed on her cheeks and then on her lips. He hesitated, and then he gave her a deeper kiss, one where his hand went to the back of her neck and caressed gently along with his lips. He released her, staring down at her, and huffed out a breath as Éponine reached for his top hat and handed it over. She was breathless then as he left the house, as she cleared her own porridge and set to her chores for the day.
Yes, she thought. She would use this opportunity to begin anew. She could never go back again.
Author's Note: I can see that people are actually reading this story, which is awesome. If you are reading and enjoying the story, would you please take a moment to leave a quick review? Thank you so much.
