Author's note: Have fun with this new chapter!
It was New Year's Eve, and Javert was on guard duty. He was mightily irritated by this: it wasn't that he has to work on a night like this: he wasn't going to any parties anyway. What was irritating to him was that he had to endure Nicole's constant chatter.
A constant topic she brought up was the fact that it was New Year's, and the raucous times she had had in previous years. Luckily she had finally noticed his lack of comfort with the topic, so she dropped it.
But when it got close to midnight, she became more and more despondent. Finally, she murmured, "Javert?"
"Yes?"
"When midnight comes, would you kiss me?"
"No." he was unsurprised by now about anything Nicole said.
"Can I kiss you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I won't go into that argument again—you know my reasons."
"But I love you."
That surprised him. She must be tired, he thought. Or bored. There's no other reason for her to say that. "Sure you do," he ended up replying.
She began to respond, when the bell began ringing the toll for midnight. Nicole grinned, and walked to the bard of her cell. Javert backed away from her until he hit the bars of the cell on the other side. Then he felt hands on his back—the hands of the woman in that cell—pushing him back to Nicole, who took his wrist gently and tried to pull him towards her. He slapped her hand and jerkily pulled away from her.
"You know not your place, convict," he snapped. "Because I talk to you doesn't mean I regard you with any more affection than any other woman here!" For a moment he wondered if he was really only trying to convince himself of that, but he shook those thoughts off.
Nicole didn't respond, but turned around slowly and walked back to her stone bed. Javert nodded to her retreating back, and then walked away.
The next three months passed painfully slowly whenever Javert was on guard duty—Nicole blatantly ignored him, even when he would make a few comments to her.
At the beginning of March, however, Nicole left his mind entirely, for he heard an interesting story. In one neighborhood, people had noticed one man who dressed like a poor man, but gave beggars money. It sounded suspiciously like something Valjean would do. But he had read that Valjean was dead.
The nest day, he went to the neighborhood in question to see if he could get a glimpse of this rich beggar. He wandered the streets for some time, asking passerbys occasionally if they had seen this person.
It was getting close to dinnertime when Javert finally saw this mystery man. The man handed a coin to a beggar on a street corner, than turned around and began walking to Javert, who had to try with all his might not to gape. It was Valjean, or he would never trust his vision again.
He attempted to recall the wording of the clipping describing Valjean's death. He believed it had said that Valjean had died in some boating accident—Javert supposed it was possible that Valjean had swum, hiding from everyone's view, because after seeing this new man, he knew without a doubt that it was Valjean.
The next evening, Javert sat on that same corner the beggar Valjean had given money to yesterday sat at. Javert had convinced that beggar to let him take his place for the night, threatening him with arrest.
As he waited patiently on the corner, he considered the implications of this possible arrest. If he got Valjean, he could gain acclaim in the eyes of Chabouillet and others, possibly even procuring a promotion.
Suddenly he heard footsteps coming towards him. A person stopped in front of him and dropped a coin the can at Javert's feet. Javert looked up into the face of this man. The moonlight highlighted this familiar visage: it was Valjean, undoubtedly.
However, Valjean seemed to recognize Javert, so he looked down once more, and heard Valjean's footsteps slowly walking away. After waiting some time, he began trailing Valjean back to his home.
When Valjean entered his apartment, Javert waited several minutes before knocking on the door. An old woman opened the door. She peered at Javert curiously.
"Madame, I have reason to believe there is a man of questionable morals residing in you place," he said immediately.
"Ah, it's La Fitte, I'm sure," she said instantly. "He's an odd one, him."
"That's not the same of the man I'm looking for, but it doesn't surprise me that he didn't give his true name." He paused. "Do you have a spare room, by any chance, where I might observe his actions from?"
"I surely do."
The woman showed Javert the room, which was quite satisfactory to his needs. She agreed to tell him of Valjean's actions, and they decided upon a time to meet next evening. Victory was so near, he could almost taste it.
The next evening, when Javert arrived, the woman announced that "La Fitte" had heard them last night and had inquired about the new tenant. "I threw him off the track though, Inspecteur," said the woman confidently.
Javert was not so sure, and paced for some time around the empty room he had borrowed, before stopping and looking out on the cold March night. As he contemplated, he suddenly heard the drop of a coin from the room, and furtive rustling noises. Valjean must be trying to flee! he thought.
When he heard furtive steps down the stairs, his guess proved correct. What confused him momentarily was the sound of two sets of footsteps, until he recalled Chabouillet mentioning some troubles in Montfermeil with an innkeeper who made claims that someone had kidnapped his girl servant. Javert had gone there voluntarily, because this girl was the daughter of that whore in Montreuil-sur-mer, Fantine. She was the one Valjean had tried to save, so it stood to reason that, if he were around, he would try to get Fantine's child. But when he arrived in Montfermeil, the innkeeper has refuted the kidnapping story, and instead said it was her grandfather who took the girl. That had ruled out Valjean.
But now Javert supposed the innkeeper could have lied, and that the second pair of footsteps he heard now was the girl. When he began to follow Valjean and saw both Valjean and a small girl, he knew his conjecture was right.
Valjean traveled erratically down the streets, switching sides of the street and backtracking often. He obviously guessed he was being followed. But even when he paused in the occasional doorway, probably thinking himself unseen, Javert was there, hiding behind a tree or anything he could find.
At one point, Javert passed a police post. He stopped in—there were about five policemen around who he managed to hastily recruit to follow in his pursuit of Valjean.
However, when they got outside, Javert couldn't keep track of Valjean. As he argued with one of the men about which direction to go, Valjean was surely getting further and further away.
Finally Javert won the argument by directing one man guard a certain intersection. They progressed slowly down the street Javert was certain Valjean was on. He was almost positive Valjean was on this street, which was excellent—this street led to a dead end, along the wall of some convent. He would be trapped.
Confident in his success, Javert traveled slowly down the street, instructing his men to make sure Valjean was not hiding in some doorway of other such places.
However, to Javert's consternation, once they got to the end of the street, Valjean wasn't there. Javert rushed to the man who had waited at the end of the street, who informed Javert that no one has passed him.
Then he must have climbed over the wall to the convent, thought Javert. That will be an easy place for me to get him out of.
"I am afraid I cannot permit a search of my abbey, Inspecteur," said the abbess the next day.
"If all the women were to go into a separate room while my men searched…" Javert began.
"I cannot allow this to happen. I am sorry."
"But there might be a convict within you walls!" he almost shouted. "Isn't this an unusual enough circumstance to make an exception to your rules?" Ordinarily he wouldn't have raised his voice to a woman, and especially not a nun, but this was an unusual instance.
"There is no way I could let you go through with this. Please do not bother us again." With that, the abbess turned and left Javert outside on the street.
He clenched his fists for a moment of two, muttered, "Damn," and left.
I do apologize for the absurdly long time it took me to get this chapter up. I'm afraid life took me away from the story, though I've had this chapter ready for a while. I shall attempt to be faster in getting the next chapter up, for my lovely and kind reviewers!