Investigating

"Would you mind to go into a little more details, inspector?" Vidocq asked as they settled down in his kitchen. "I still don´t fully understand what happened to you."

"I told you not to call me that." Javert growled, and when Fleuride approached his face with a wet cloth to clean off the blood, he skipped back. "I can do that myself." he snapped. Regarding her rebuking gaze he added a little quieter: "Thank you." Acknowledging the well meant gesture was nothing that could hurt.

Fleuride, being her chirpy self, just left him without a word, to take care of his wounds alone. Javert looked at the bowl of water but couldn´t summon the willpower to pick up the cloth and clean his face. The blood had dried anyway. No need to hurry.

"Now?" Vidocq spoke. "What happened? Why did the city start burning?"

Javert couldn´t help himself. "Jumping to the conclusion right away? I thought you wanted details."

"All right then. Give me the details. As many as you wish."

Javert´s gaze darkened. How much did he even want this man to know? He wasn´t sure. Not everything that had happened was his business. But could he really estimate the relevance of those events to the case? He was too involved to see it clear. Too close to it all to be objective. Maybe … Maybe letting an outsider decide what really happened was the best way to set things straight again.

Javert sighed.

"We did what you asked us to do." he started. "That is … I did … just what you expected of me. Didn´t I? I was burning to get started on this case. To bring these people to justice. No one would stop me. I had sworn this the moment I held the file in my hand. The one you gave me in your generosity."

Vidocq only looked, no change in his expression. And Javert cast down his eyes.

"I wanted them. For what they had done." he shrugged. No surprise here. "If anyone would get into my way they would see the real me. Not even Valjean would slow me down. I wouldn´t let him." He chuckled. "Or at least … that´s what I thought."

...

He threw the front door open as if it was merely made of paper, not solid wood, he remembered that quite well. Maybe in his memory he added some force to his entrance, maybe he took some out of it. He would never know for sure. All he knew was that Cosette and Marius had jumped out of their seats when he´d entered Valjean´s house like that. And maybe for a second he had caused another one of those shocks for the poor girl, the way his very presence always seemed to do it. Gracing the very edge of her still existing fear, that one day, Javert would change his mind and come in to drag her father to prison after all.

In this moment he coudn´t care less though. He had something to do and the girl hated him anyway, so why stop and bother. There was work to do.

Valjean on the other hand, cared quite a bit.

"Cosette." Javert heard his startled exhale. "Marius. What are you doing here?"

Javert did not turn around to see her reaction, but her voice was loud and clear enough for him to hear. And he noticed her embarrassment.

"We came for a visit." she had explained herself. "When you weren´t there I used my key. I didn´t think any of it but maybe …"

"No, dear God." Valjean instantly talked over her. "That´s not what I meant."

And that must have been when Marius finally realized that something was going on. Something more than just the usual objection of his sweetheart to Javert´s presence in her father´s life.

"What´s the matter?" the boy asked and Valjean, being his usual decisive self, began to stutter.

"I uhm …" he was still panting from their spurt back here. "It seems our dear inspector is eager to go back to work."

"Work?" Cosette was quicker, catching up than her fiance. "You took Vidocq´s offer?"

Another exhausted sigh. "Not quite yet."

Javert only listened to all of this with one ear. His attention was on his task at hand, to collect the tools he´d need. He knew where to find it, he had spent enough time in this house by now, and for the first time in ages as it seemed, he did not stop for a second to wonder how he could possibly be familiar with this place, the home of a former criminal. In this moment all that mattered was that he knew where he´d find what he needed. A notepad, a pen, a map of the area around Paris, and a small knife, just in case.

"But if …" he could hear the irritated frown in the girl´s voice. "How …?"

Valjean lay two calming hands on his daughter´s arms. "I´m sure everything will be explained in good time." he assured her.

Javert had what he needed, and stormed back towards the door without even glancing at Valjean and his precautious kids. Still he saw the fake smile on Valjean´s face dropping, now that he lost control of the situation for good.

"JAVERT!" the old man gave it up at last, fuming now, and left Cosette, in favor to chase after him.

Outside just before the door he reached him, grabbing his arm to make him stop.

"Would you at least care to tell me what we´re planning to do now?" he demanded. "If we´re ought to work together on this …"

"I didn´t say you have to come."

Valjean was fuming now. Something in his gaze – something dark – made its way down, all the way from his eyes to his heart, Javert could see that, even though the man did not even move.

"And this." he pointed at him. "Is something you will stop doing as well. All right? We are partners. We agreed on that. So stop treating me as if anyone had forced me to be here. Partners work together. And they actually share what they plan to do. Is that so hard for you?"

Javert took a breath, holding this burning stare. "I never had a partner." was all he knew to answer, and somehow he felt as if he had to justify himself with that.

"Well, that has changed now." Valjean retorted. "So maybe you could try and catch up with this little fact. Could you, Antoine?"

Javert felt how the sound of his own name did its work again. As it always did. Ever since he´d gotten used to hear it again. Or maybe he wasn´t really used to it yet. Maybe that was the reason why it worked, why it had that effect on him. God, he hated Valjean for that. That he was able to weaken him like that, only by using what had been his for all these years.

"I guess I could." was all he could muster, to at least keep his dignity before this man. He gave him a nod, indicating that there was a way before them. And Valjean turned, ready to follow. "I tell you on the way." Javert promised.

"On the way where?"

"To find us a coach. We have some place to go."

...

He briefed Valjean in the carriage. The way was long enough for that. He didn´t need to tell much for Valjean to understand why he was so eager to solve this case.

"Are you sure it´s them?" he asked, staring at the file in his hand.

"Read." was all Javert would respond and of course Valjean had to see he was right. "It is them. They´re cleaning up behind themselves. Erasing traces by killing off witnesses. This man they just found, is only one in a row."

"I thought they got them all." Valjean would keep insisting on false assumptions, and Javert silenced him with only his stare.

"How many of them do you think are out there?" he asked. "You think they got them all? Really?"

"So this is the rest of them." Valjean finally understood. "Trying to sneak away unnoticed."

"Just pray to your precious God that we´re not too late already."

At last Valjean closed the file, done with the few details it could give to him. "What are we going to do?"

But here Javert could not give any more specific answers. He simply looked out the window, grimly. "Investigating." he said. And nothing more.

...

It was a steep slope they went to. A place in the woods, just outside a small village, covered over and over with shards of old ceramic. The villagers disposed their broken vessels here. And recently someone else had disposed a dead man. Ironically in pieces, just like the bowls and vases, people got rid off out here. Just what we all become when we´re gone, Javert thought strangely dark. Nothing but a heap of junk and garbage.

"How many of the villagers come here with a cart?" Valjean asked out of the blue. "You think they have that much to dispose to need a cart? Maybe even a fiacre?"

He pointed at the ground, and Javert saw it. The tracks. Deep enough to be from a fiacre all right. And prints of horseshoes.

"How good do you read tracks?" he asked Valjean and the other man shrugged.

"Decent enough I guess. But I guess you´re better."

"You´re right." Javert proceeded by proving how right Valjean was. He pointed at the ground, tracing the edges of the tracks. "It´s deep. Older than some of the other tracks. Fresher than those." He gazed at some footsteps of people, tracks of donkeys and other animals who´d come this way. Tracks of real carts, smaller than this carriage. Much more shallow by now, not as recent. And it had rained lately, so the ground was soft. There had been a lot of traffic here these past few days. Not just villagers he presumed.

"It could have been to transport the body away." Valjean pointed out, and Javert halted. He had to admit it was a possibility. Yeah, sure, it was. He glanced about, trying to think, and gazed at the ground again.

"No." he finally decided, pointing. "There was at least one cart here, after this fiacre. The fiacre was here … several days ago. This cart … that´s not longer than yesterday. That´s what they used to transport the body."

Valjean nodded, regarding the ground. "All right. But what do we do with that?"

"Nothing." Javert started to head back the way they´d come. "Not yet. First we need to know what happened."

Valjean followed him. "The file doesn´t say that?"

"You didn´t read it?" Javert stopped dead in his tracks.

"Not all of it." Valjean shrugged. "I assumed you´d tell me the most important parts."

Javert closed his eyes, trying not to groan. "The first lesson you´ve got to learn, Valjean. Never trust in anyone to tell you the whole story. Always check and double check for yourself." He kept walking. "Only that way you´ll learn the whole truth. Only that way you´ll catch your criminal."

"Trust no one to tell me the whole story?" Valjean repeated. "Not even you?"

"Not even me." Javert stopped again, to face him straight on. Even he had to see his point. "I could have forgotten something. Left something out. You could never know for sure, except you prove it for yourself."

The old man tilted his head, looking at him so gentle. "Javert." he said, as if he was talking to a kid. "Partners have to trust each other. This is a bad example. Between the two of us we should be the exception from that rule."

Oh God. Javert closed his eyes. Why, oh why did he have to deal with something like that? It wasn´t that hard to understand. Even for an eternal dreamer like Valjean.

The former inspector spared another try to teach this dilettante how the world really worked and just marched on. He had more important work to do.

...

It was a young woman who opened the door. A scarf was covering her hair and her dress – more a rag – was used up and filthy. She´d probably been doing chores.

"Madame Courfin?" Javert addressed her and she nodded, frowning up at him.

"My name is Javert. This is my associate Monsieur Fauchelevant. We´re here to investigate the matter of the recently discovered body." Her gaze changed from uncertain to something painful at his words. "I understand you´re the one who found it?"

The woman cast down her eyes. "My son did."

"Can we speak with him?"

She looked back up. "I´m afraid not." the expression he saw now, was sassy, almost daring. "He hasn´t spoken since that day." she informed him. "Only with the dog. I hear him speak to her sometimes. But to me …" She broke off, shaking her head.

"How old is he?" Valjean asked, and Javert could see tears glistening in her eyes.

"Six."

For a moment neither of them said a word. The mother obviously took it as a sign that this talk was over. Only it wasn´t.

"Then we´ll have to work with your descriptions." Javert spoke. "What happened on that day?"

"I already told the police about it." she objected.

"We´re not police."

"But … you said you´re investigating."

"We´re private investigators." Valjean explained it to her, gently. "We work outside the police yet …" and he glanced at Javert before adding: "… with them."

The poor woman seemed uncertain, still, but Valjean´s gentle tone seemed to have done the trick.

"I sent Julien to bring a broken jar to the slope." she started to tell them. "He´s out there all the time so I figured he could do that for me." She halted, shaking her head. "I should have done it myself. I should have never …" Her voice broke, and Valjean of course had to jump in immediately.

"You couldn´t have known." he attempted to comfort, just as he always did, but Javert would not let this mutate into a therapy session.

"What happened when he came back?" he demanded to know.

The woman sniffled, only for a moment, and pulled herself together. "I saw blood on the dog. First I thought Julien was hurt but he was fine." Her gaze was hollow now, lost in her memory. "It was the way he looked at me." she spoke. "The way he wouldn´t say a word … I knew the dog had sniffed something else to get the blood all over her. So I went to the slope … and saw the body. It was awful, messieurs."
"So you called the police."

She closed her eyes. "A friend of mine did. I couldn´t walk anymore. My legs were shaking. And I couldn´t let go of Julien after I knew what he had seen."

"I´m sorry, madame." Valjean offered again.

"He´ll get over it." Javert said. "Where did they bring the body?"

He caught a rebuking glance from Valjean, a slightly startled one from the witness.

"The local butcher I believe." the woman answered his question at last.

Valjean´s eyes jumped from Javert to her, aghast, and Javert rolled his eyes. "He´ll have a cool enough room to preserve the body until it gets claimed by the family." he explained it to him. Even the woman had known that. She was nodding, affirming his guess. And beside him Valjean visibly relaxed. God, this man really didn´t know anything.

"Thank you for your help, Madame." Javert said his goodbye for both of them and turned around to head for the next stop in this journey.

Of course Valjean could not just leave it at that. They were barely out of the gate when he spoke up again.

"You could have been a little more …"

"What?" Javert would stop this ridiculous discussion before it even started. "Sympathetic? Gentle? We´re here to get work done."

"This kid has seen something very cruel."

"So did many kids these days. There´s nothing we can do about it. He will survive. And grow on it. But not because I feel pity for him. You seem to do enough of this for both of us."

"He is a little boy."

"And we are here to hunt murderers. You think they waste time to pity over a little thing like him?"

Valjean only looked at him, almost disgusted. "Where is you humanity?" he asked.

"At home." Javert retorted. "Out here it would only distract me."

He kept on walking, and Valjean marched by his side. "I don´t understand you." he sounded bitter. "How can you leave humanity behind? This is what everything is about."

"This is a murder case." Javert rolled his eyes. "These men we´re chasing killed a man in cold blood and then dismantled him. How much humanity do you think we´ll find in such a case?"

"The more important to keep our own."

Javert stopped, abruptly, but he didn´t startle Valjean as much as he would have liked. "These people will give a damn about your humanity." he told him. "When you meet them face to face, what do you think they´ll do? Your gentle heart will not protect you from them. Against people like that you have to adapt, or they will win. It´s an eye for an eye, Valjean, and if you don´t understand that soon, you will end up like this man the kid has found. Because you´ll not stand a chance against these people."

Valjean said nothing for a long time. He just held his gaze, stony-faced, before he finally told him: "I will not end up like this man."

The gaze he saw was so defiant, Javert could not help but snorted, almost amused.

"I sure hope so."

...

It was like walking into a barn. It looked like one anyway. A huge room, only separated by a few items, mostly used by the butcher to do his daily work. A work just as bloody as the one their murderers had done. It was quite fitting that the body of proof was kept in here. It was accompanied well, by dozens of halves of dead cows, hanging from the ceiling.

Ice was heaped up around those cadavers that were still meant to be eaten by humans. The body that once had been a human had been stacked in a corner, with its own heap of ice surrounding it. Even from the door, Javert could see that it wasn´t whole anymore. Not a human being at all, not even in the remains of it.

Valjean noticed too, and tensed as they approached. Javert tried not to pay attention to it, but to actually focus on the body. Still he couldn´t help but notice Valjean´s reaction when he pulled back the cover to reveal the body.

It wasn´t a nice sight. Not at all. But for everyone who wasn´t used to see a man taken apart and put back together on a table just to reassemble the form he´d once been in life, this must look pretty bad. Terrible. Maybe even devastating. Animals had done their fair share deforming the body. Pieces were torn out, fingers missing, bitten off. Not even the face was intact anymore. Hungry beasts would do wonders for anyone who was in a need to let a body vanish from the face of the earth. If it didn´t get discovered in time. It was their luck – or their bad luck, however one wanted to see it – that this time someone indeed had discovered it in time.

Valjean made a gagging sound, and Javert did his best to ignore it. He´d seen worse reactions to such things, over the years, things that had looked much less heavy. Considering this, Valjean was holding up pretty damn well.

"Does anyone know who he is by now?" Javert asked the owner of the place.

"I do, in fact." the butcher answered them. "Everyone does. Only … no one else would want to look at … this."

"Who is he?"

The butcher sighed. "His name was Luis Dumas. He was a local cattle breeder. My best deliverer actually."

"Does he have family?"

"Sure. They´ll send someone else to take him to the funeral. They also do not want to see this."

Valjean exhaled, as if he was in pain. "I understand the feeling." he spoke, trying to look the other way.

Javert could not afford to consider his companion´s feelings. He had to know everything. So he pulled the cover back even more, revealing the whole ugly truth of what was beneath it. Valjean hissed at the sight and turned away.

"How can a man do this to another?" he asked aloud.

The butcher shrugged, indifferently. "With an ax I´d say. A big one."

Javert glanced at him, and he wasn´t the only one.

"I meant that differently." Valjean informed him, but once again, Javert had to be cruel.

"What kind of an ax?" he asked. "How big?"

"At least … that size?" the butcher went to his chopping board and got his cleaver. "When it is sharp and the man who swings it strong enough … they can chop off limps in one strike." he told them. "Some of those parts were severed with just one chop." he pointed with the cleaver. "I´ve seen it when they brought him in. Professional eye, you see."

Javert regarded the man for a moment, noticed Valjean´s disgusted face, and tried to ignore it. After that he inspected the limps again. Their host was so generous to show him the parts he´d been talking about, once again using his cleaver as pointer. And despite this doubtful habit, Javert had to admit that the man was right. Those cuts were clean and professional.

Beside them Valjean finally groaned, releasing his repulsion.

"I need some fresh air." he said and left, on staggering legs.

Javert waited until he´d closed the door behind him, before he went on asking his questions.

"How strong must a man be to manage that?"

"Pretty strong." the butcher answered. "They chopped through bones as you see. Stronger than you I´d say. And me."

"You are used to do work like this?"

"Not like this." the man instantly denied the implication. "Pigs. And cows. A human bone is lighter than a cow´s."

"Can you chop through a cow´s bone?"

"If I have a really sharp cleaver." the man did his best to answer the question. "And enough drive. But not through a leg bone. They´re too thick."

"Through one of those?" Javert pointed at the severed leg of the man on the table, and for the first time this butcher seemed uncomfortable in his position.

"I guess I could." he shifted from foot to foot. "But I would never dare. This is a human being. Murder is a sin."

Javert regarded the man, scrutinizing him. He seemed genuine enough. For now. Javert´s instincts told him that he was probably not involved. Of course that was something the investigation would have to prove. For now though he settled with a simple nod.

"Thank you for your help." he covered the body again, much the the relief of the butcher. It was a strange sort of relief to him too, to know that he could still intimidate witnesses like this. This one year off duty had not taken his natural skills away just yet.

He left the place, to find an awfully pale Valjean waiting for him outside.

"You all right?" he asked him and Valjean nodded. Nothing more.

For a moment Javert tried to figure him out, and had to admit that he failed. The more surprising was Valjean´s question.

"How often …?" he had to start over. "Have you done many of these … while you were police?"

Javert glanced back at the door. "Not quite as vicious as this one." he said. "But yes. It´s part of the job."

Valjean exhaled, eyes closed, as if he still tried to chase away the nausea. "I never imagined …" he didn´t finish the sentence, only shook his head.

"The world is cruel, Valjean." Javert told him. "You better learn that or stay out of it." It was a strange thing to look at him now, not knowing what he wanted to hear next. Eventually Javert collected his courage – not knowing why it needed courage at all – and asked: "Do you want to stay out of it?"

Valjean looked up at him, sharply. "I didn´t say that."

He meant it, Javert could see that. Still he was doubting. He had to. "You think you´re up to it?" he asked him and Valjean took a breath, to steady himself.

"I will be." he said, and took another breath, slower this time. Eventually he nodded. "Yes, I will be."

Javert mirrored the nod. "All right." he said. And that was it. For now at least, he thought that he could live with that.

...

The rest of the day they spent in search for the deceased man´s family. It turned out to be a dead end though. As it seemed the family had left the town only a day after their relative had been found. None of the neighbors or friends knew where they had gone to. And somehow Javert had an idea why.

"What do we do now?" Valjean asked him. "Wait until they return? Or leave a message?"

"They won´t return." Javert threw him a glance. "Would you? They know who killed him and why. And they fear they might be next."

"So what do we do?"

"We need to find them."

"Don´t you think these people went through enough?" Valjean held him back. "They left because they are scared. Let´s leave them."

Javert could not believe it. Had he just started this whole insanity again? Again?

"You think they will leave them?" he yanked his arm away. "These people are possible witnesses. They are a danger to them and they will not just let them go. If we don´t find them first, they will. And then they´ll truly follow their relative to his grave."

At last he saw understanding dawn in Valjean´s face. Dear God had this really been so much beyond him?

"These people know something." Javert continued, just in case his partner hadn´t reached the full conclusion just yet. "Their information could lead us to those who are responsible. This is the only lead we have right now."

When he saw that Valjean was with him again, he kept on walking. There was one more thing they needed to do in this town.

"Is their value for our case the only thing that matters to you?" Valjean wanted to know. "Do you even think about how we could save them?"

"I will as soon as we found them."

"And how do we find them?"

"This is your speciality, isn´t it?" Javert would not slow down. "How to find a man that doesn´t want to be found?"

Valjean threw him a frowning gaze. "You ask me?"

"Where would you hide if you´d be in their place?" Javert took a moment to stop, just across the street from the tiny church. He needed to see Valjean´s face for this. And what he saw was solemn. The man was serious as he thought about this.

"With someone I can trust." he finally answered. "Family maybe. Or close friends."

Javert nodded. That´s what he´d thought. And now that he had his confirmation there was only one place he could think of, where they could possibly get those information from. If there was anyone in a small town like this, who knew almost everything about the people living there, it was the local priest. Javert shoved Valjean forward, towards the church.

...

By the time they finally rode back to Paris, it was turning dark, and Valjean was falling asleep rapidly in the carriage next to him. Javert pushed him off his shoulder as his head fell down, and the old man regrettingly sank against the opposite wall. His sleepy form, effected Javert more than he liked and soon he was drowsing off as well. A day like this shouldn´t be that exhausting. And usually it wouldn´t be. But he was sure that he was on the right track here, and just the thought of who he was chasing had pushed him, emotionally, more than normal agitation would. This was personal, still, and would always be.

But the result was that he was feeling drained now, and that wasn´t good. Maybe a more neutral approach to the whole affair would be a good idea next time. He couldn´t afford to be weakened like this, when they would find their criminals at last.

The sun had set and the last beams of light slid away quickly as they finally reached Paris. There was still light in the windows of Valjean´s home, Javert noticed. So the kids were still there.

He didn´t comment on this, tried not to think about it. It was weird enough as it was, unexpected to say the least. And then his attention was drawn by Valjean who stepped out of the fiacre after him and, thanks to his old feet, slipped and fell. Javert caught him easily enough, saving him from a dive to the pavement. And just as he dragged him up again, the door got opened.

"Papa." the girl instantly hurried to take her father out of Javert´s hands. As if she still had to protect him from this police man.

Javert handed his burden over willingly and caught her glance, only for a second. It was much less hateful than it had used to be, but it had gained nothing gentle yet, not towards him. It was still as hard and uncompromising as it had always been.

"What happened?" he heard her ask, speaking to Valjean of course. But her voice was not concerned. It was demanding. Demanding an explanation, why they returned so late, and in such a state.

"Nothing, Cosette." Valjean assured her. "We just got … delayed. Obviously investigating a case like that takes some time."

"Investigating any case takes time." Javert replied, closing the door behind them. "What did you think the police is doing all day? Standing about and drink coffee?"

He met a rueful yet amused smirk from his old foe, and two much less amused glances from the younger people in the room.

"Marius, why are you still here?" Valjean instantly diverted the matter. "It´s late."

"I wouldn´t leave Cosette alone, monsieur. Not while we couldn´t be sure if you´d be back. When!" he instantly corrected himself, but too late. It was out and Valjean had heard it.

"Why wouldn´t we be back?" he asked, only startled on the surface. Beneath his facade he was insulted, Javert could tell. Maybe even angry.

The boy opened his mouth to explain his involuntary choice of words, but closed it again. Every explanation he could come up with would only worsen the situation, even this student could see that.

Valjean glanced at Javert, and as if he´d just found the answer to his question there, he huffed, straightening himself out of his daughter´s supporting hands.

"Well, we are back now." he stated the obvious. "You can go home now. The fiacre is already payed. Please, feel free to take it."

For a change Marius was smart and chose not to give another response. Javert was glad when he simply turned to kiss his fiance, ready to leave with only a few uttered words of goodbye. Javert caught their brief exchange. Cosette would not come with him, not today. She´d stay to make sure her father was all right. And with that the two of them left the room, as she would see him to the door.

One more time, as she passed him, Javert caught this icy gaze of hers.

Finally when the door was closed behind them, Valjean would allow himself to let go of his rigid posture, and made his way to the fireplace. Javert watched him, how he lowered himself down into the armchair, groaning laborious as he did so. A deep sigh escaped him when he sat comfortable at last, and for a moment Javert believed he´d fall asleep right there, within a few seconds. But then he opened his eyes again, and his expression was one of pure pity.

"I´m sorry." he said, as if there was anything he had to apologize for.

Javert merely snorted. "What for? For your weak stomach? Or for being a general pain in the ass, with your pleading heart lawyer attitudes?" He raised a brow. "You´ve got a lot to learn if you want to be an investigator, Valjean."

The other man leaned back in his chair, smiling. "Duly noted."

The following silence could have been uncomfortable. In any other case it would have been. But Valjean was simply too relaxed for Javert to feel anything but calmness in the room. He tried to think of anything to say, and failed. He believed that there was really nothing he could have said.

So instead he just sat down in the second armchair, and faced the chimney. He was not groaning as Valjean had done it, but he felt the tiredness in his bones just as well. Sitting down in a place like this was indeed a welcome alternative to the spare room he called his home. The room that had greeted him after a long day like this, for all these years. Strange that he felt no urge at all, to get there now. Well, an armchair like this definitely had its advantages. It was a chair a man could fall asleep in.

"We need to go to town first thing tomorrow." he eventually spoke up, eyes still closed. "We´ll have to see if the priest was right about the brother of our Dumas family."

Valjean said nothing. He only nodded. And then there was the sound of Cosette stepping back into the room. They both turned their heads towards her. And Javert once again faced this icy silence he´d gotten used to from her.

"Cosette." Valjean spoke. "Dear, I hate to ask you but … I could use some tea to warm my old bones. Would you be so kind?" As she nodded quietly, he turned to Javert. "What about you?"

Javert shook his head. "Nothing."

"I´ll make some extra." Cosette decided anyway, and left without another word. Valjean was smiling, proudly. Isn´t she a sweetheart, his gaze said, and Javert closed his eyes. Now he was groaning. Oh, please.

Valjean said nothing. He simply allowed them to sit and rest in silence for a while. But obviously there was still one more thing he needed to talk about.

"Should we visit Vidocq before we head to this address?" he asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

Javert only glanced over at him, and Valjean answered his gaze blatantly. "I just thought … maybe it´s a good thing to have a legal base for the work we´re going to do."

Javert´s gaze remained unmoved. "The convict tells the police man how to act legally?" he asked. "Nice."

Again Valjean answered only with a smile, before leaning back again, closing his eyes. "Stranger things have happened, Antoine." he said. "Stranger things have happened."