One Last Choice

The little farm lay deep in the woods, merely a few miles from the town where their investigation had started only a week ago. It made sense, Javert figured. According to what the dying woman had told Valjean. The cottage and little barn were hidden from everyone who didn´t know about it. A perfect hideout. Barely even existent to the world. And that was exactly how it looked. It was taken over by lots of vegetation, the grass was so high one could expect a buck to hide in it, and the whole place didn´t seem as if it had been maintained at all for at least a year or longer.

"You sure this is the place?" he asked, dismounting the fiacre.

"It was your map." Valjean countered, and looked about, searching. "She said her daughter went here." he mumbled, as if to convince himself. "She has to be here."

Javert eyed the place, and eventually decided that looking around like an idiot was useless. If they wanted to find someone here, they had to do some actual searching. So he started moving, ready to comb the place, methodically, just the way he knew it, to find his hiding criminal. But Valjean held him back.

"No." his eyes were begging. "Let … You´d scare her. Let me try …"

Of course his first instinct was to object. But then he saw Valjean´s eyes, and something about this gaze just made him take a step back. Yes, he assumed he could allow him to do it his way. This time.

Valjean thanked him, silently, and turned to face the little farm, stepping forward as if he had to address an audience standing all around.

"Michelle!" he called out. "Please, do not be afraid. My name is Jean. This is Antoine. We´re not here to hurt you. Your … your mother asked me to come here and find you. And to bring you home safely."

Javert realized, just then, that Valjean´s breath was shaking. He hadn´t realized how important this was for him.

"I´m sorry I have to tell you …" the old man struggled to get it out. "I´m so sorry I have to tell you … that your parents are dead." he finally forced himself to say it. "I´m sorry, I … I couldn´t save them. I tried to save your mother but …"

Javert reached out, touching Valjean´s shoulder, but the old con glanced at him, so desperate, his eyes pleading. Don´t stop me. I have to say this.

And so Javert stepped back.

"She asked me to find you." Valjean continued, speaking to the distant cottage and barn, to the high grass, the trees and bushes all around. To everyone and no one. "And I promised." he struggled to keep his voice even. "I … I gave her my word, that I would find her daughter and save her, where I couldn´t save her." For a moment he halted, laughing quietly. "I seem to have a habit of that."

Javert couldn´t help the little sad smirk that came to him.

"I know you have no reason to believe me." Valjean went on. "You have seen enough cruelty to never trust anyone ever again. Your mother told me, Michelle. She told me everything. That you saw it. What these men did to your uncle. No fourteen year old girl should ever have to see such a thing. But because you saw this, you could tell the police and bring these men to justice. This is why they try to find and stop you. This is why your parents hid you out here. And they were right. God, they were right." He took a breath, to steady himself. "But I will not allow them to do to you, what they did to your parents. You hear me? I´ll protect you from them. I promise. I swear. I swear to you that we will find these men and bring them to justice. But we can´t do it on our own, we´ll need your help. Because you´re the only one … the only one who ever saw them."

"Valjean."

"So please, Michelle, come out and show yourself."

"Valjean."

"You´re safe here. No one will harm you."

"Jean." Javert gently turned his friend around, forced him to look him in the eyes. God, he was so confused. So desperate. "She´s not here." Javert told him. "It´s over."

Tears were glistening in Valjean´s eyes, as he shook his head. "No. No, she must be … Her mother said …"

But there was no one there. Everything was just quiet. Only some birds were chirping in the woods, not caring at all about this lonely old man, who´d been shouting over this abandoned field these last five minutes. No human being was around here, anywhere. Maybe there hadn´t been anyone and wouldn´t be, for a very long time.

And in the end even Valjean had to understand this fundamental truth. At last he had no choice but to accept that, yes, Javert was right. That the girl he´d come here to find was gone. That this time he wouldn´t be able to keep his promise to the dying mother.

"You tried." Javert said. "You did what you could. But not even you can save everyone."

Valjean was stubborn, even now, blinking his tears away. He would not simply accept or give in. Javert did not know what to do. He felt something still unfamiliar to him. Pity.

"Maybe she´ll make it." he offered, in his lack of anything better to say. "Maybe she´ll get away."

Valjean looked at him, and gave a dry chuckle. "Didn´t you say they never do?"

That´s right, keep objecting to everything I say. Even when I try to comfort you, you bastard.

"I could be wrong."

When Valjean laughed out this time, it ended in a sob. Surely not his intention, but it was out, and Javert had seen it, and nothing Valjean would say now could ever take that back. Regarding this fact, he held himself up pretty well, Javert had to give him that. He nodded at him, gratefully, hoping but so full of regret, that not even Javert could shield himself from the impact it had on him. And looking back on these last few days, he found it astoundingly easy, to pull him in now, for a comforting hug.

"You tried." he said again, and this time he meant it. "You did so much."

It wasn´t awkward, not at all how he´d imagined it. Holding Valjean like that, offering his shoulder, now that the other man needed it. It seemed almost natural. As if nothing of this could even remotely be embarrassing. And what startled him even more, was the fact that he didn´t feel exposed, that he was not afraid Valjean could use this against him one day. To mock. Or tease.

He simply held him, offering his support, his, yeah, friendship. And it was all right. As simple as that. And for a moment, he just wanted to stay in this, no matter how painful his chest was tightening. Because this was real, yet so much outside of every version of reality, that he just knew, he would probably never have this again, as soon as they were both back to normal.

Please, dear God in heaven.

When they parted he searched Valjean´s face, but there was nothing strange. Only this tiredness, this still lingering sadness, and yes, gratefulness. Gratefulness for Javert´s presence, for his support, for his friendship. Dear God, was it really possible after all, that something like that existed? Had they really gone through this hell that had been their life, only to reach this point where they learned it could have been different all along?

"Come on now." he padded Valjean´s shoulder, gently turning him around, to leave. "Let´s go home."

The old man nodded, ready to follow. To leave this lost case behind, and move on at last. To finally go back home. Back to their lives. Maybe the next case. But surely the next day first and foremost. Back to Valjean sulking about Cosette spending more time with her fiance and new family than with him. Back to Valjean trying to make Javert participate in silly social activities. Back to Javert trying to get Valjean to finally grow up. In a word: Life.

The small fiacre was just ahead, the little horse turning its head to them as if it was already waiting for them to finally come and get out of here. And that was the moment when they heard it. Nothing loud, just a brief sound of wood scraping. But it didn´t sound like a natural sound from the forest. It sounded like a door.

When they turned back around, neither of them knew what to do or say, upon seeing this young red haired girl, cautiously emerging from the shed, to meet them.

...

"They dropped me off only a few miles away from our village." Michelle told them, pouring some tea into ridiculously old cups.

A strand of her bushy red hair hung into her eye, but she didn´t even seem to notice. Her sad and serious expression made her look much older than she was. Not the vulnerable fourteen years she´d lived on this cruel earth.

"Mother told me to go here on my own. It´s the old farm of my grandfather. After his death our family only got here once a year, to keep it from completely falling apart. Father said, they´d arrange our escape … and pick me up after a week. If they shouldn´t come … I should … I should try to find my way on my own." The girl set down the kettle, visibly fighting her tears. "When Mama sent me away, I somehow knew … I just knew they wouldn´t …" she hit her fist down on the table, making even Javert flinch. "This is all my fault."

"No." they both said at once, but Javert´s objection was louder, much to Valjean´s surprise.

"None of this is your fault, girl." he told her, maybe a little too rough. "These men are to blame, and only them."

"If I hadn´t seen them …"

"They already were after your family, kid." he talked over her. "They used your uncle for their trades and whether he knew it or not, he was a danger to them. That´s why they killed him. And they had planned to kill you and your family in any case. That you saw them is something you should only regard as a sign from God. A sign that tells you to fight. For you are the one who can stop them. The only one who can avenge what they did to your family. And everyone else they ever hurt in this world."

The girl looked at him, with her watery eyes, and he just held her gaze. It was more difficult than to hold Valjean´s stubborn gaze at times, but eventually he managed it to make her see. She nodded, in agreement, maybe even a little grateful. The tears were still there, but he could tell that she was less desperate now. Determination had taken over. She would do what was necessary.

"I thought you don´t believe in God." Valjean uttered to him in a low voice, while the girl was busy drying her eyes. Javert only looked at him, but didn´t say a word.

"We will take you back with us." he told the girl. "You´ll be safe. Can you describe the men you saw?"

Michelle composed herself, straightening her back and nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"I have a very good memory. I could tell you every wrinkle, every hair … on them." For a moment, she simply stared into the distance, as if she could see it right now. "I can describe them, monsieur. Don´t worry about that."

Javert couldn´t help. He felt a ridiculous pride of this girl. "All right. You´ll describe it to someone who will draw a sketch of these men. I guess Vidocq will know someone who can do that. And after that …"

It was the distant sound of approaching hoofs that made him halt mid-sentence. Someone was coming and fast. Valjean tensed too and was by his side at the window immediately. They could see them. Too many of them, galloping down the path that led to the farm. In less than a minute they´d be there.

Their hands went down to their guns simultaneously.

"Down." Javert ordered, and the girl ducked under the table, as if she already knew that drill.

"How did they find us?" Valjean hissed through his teeth and as if his question had triggered it, there was a flash in Javert´s mind. He closed his eyes, cursing himself.

"They probably followed us." he glanced at the girl, as if he could apologize for giving her away, even now.

"Can we get away?" Michelle asked, but the riders were already there. Javert could not count them so quickly, he had to keep his head down. But it was at least ten or more. They dismounted their horses, and from what he could see they were all armed. They split up, methodically, to search the place.

"How could they follow us without being seen?" Valjean hissed, frustrated and totally pointless.

"It only takes one or two." Javert answered anyway. "Probably two. After they knew where we stopped one rode back to alarm the others, while one stayed behind to watch us." He met his gaze. "They know exactly where we are."

"Then what are they doing?" Valjean asked, and Javert had to admit: it did appear as if they were searching the place. But only for one who didn´t know better.

"They´re surrounding us." Javert sighed. "Making sure we won´t get away."

He could see in Valjean´s eyes that he knew very well what that meant. He must have heard about the smugglers too. The attack on their transport to prison, no bodies left behind, to eliminate every chance to ever investigate the case. Because this was what these guys did with their loose ends. They cut them, and then dismantled them and let them vanish forever. No witnesses. Except for this young girl.

The old con glanced at Michelle, still under the table, watching them quietly. And upon seeing her big waiting eyes, he too sighed, deeply. It was that final moment, when a man at last understands that he is facing the one last battle he can never win, no matter what he does. Valjean turned to look at Javert.

"She is the one who has to get away."

Javert read in his eyes everything he had never believed to possibly see in another man´s eyes. A silent understanding between them, one that didn´t need words to speak out what needed to be said. He was right. Of course he was right. And there was only one way to do this. Only one choice left to make.

Javert turned to Michelle.

"Can you sneak away unseen?" he asked. When she didn´t answer, he got louder: "If these men were distracted, only for a moment, could you manage it to sneak away and escape?"

The girl nodded. "Y-yes. I could but …"

"Good." Javert nodded at Valjean. "We´ll hold them off. Draw their attention. You run, Michelle. As fast as you can. And try not to be seen. Get to Paris. Find a man named Eugene Vidocq. He lives in la Rue Boisonade. He´s not police but he´ll help you. You´ll be safe there. You understand?"

Michelle once again nodded, quickly, tears swelling up in her eyes. And Javert looked at Valjean again. He almost didn´t know what to say.

"I wish I didn´t have to ask you." he managed at last, but Valjean´s response came without hesitation.

"I won´t leave you."

Javert grabbed his gun tighter. It hurt. More than it should. "This is not how this should have ended."

"I know."

They turned back to the girl together. "Get ready, Michelle."

She was on her feet instantly, obeying as if she was trained to follow orders like this. Under the window that faced the backside of the farm, she remained, ready to open it on demand. And once again Javert met the gaze of Valjean. So knowing, so ready, and yet just as scared as he was. They both knew they had no chance. Not against so many. Not with only one bullet for each of them. Not as soon as they went out there, to attack, to divert their attention, just long enough for Michelle to make a run for it. Hoping they´d live long enough for her to make it out unseen. Hoping that these men out there would not hunt her down after they killed the two of them.

Javert closed his eyes, his head spinning.

When he opened them again, Valjean was right there with him. And his smile was almost solemn.

"I see you on the other side."

But Javert shook his head. "I doubt it." his voice broke. "I doubt that I´ll be granted there."

The smile in Valjean´s eyes faded, replaced by something dead serious.

"I´ll find you." he said. "Wherever you´ll be. I promise."

A shout from outside made Javert cringe, and focus again, despite everything. They still had something to do before they could lie down and die. And they would have to do it now.

"Run." he ordered the girl and the instant he opened the door and shot his pistol, she opened the window, climbed out and just ran. Ran for her life.

The sounds of the fight echoed all around her, shots ringing out way too loud. One. Two. A few in a row. But as she reached the treeline, it was a raging thunder. Too many shots at once, only for a moment. And after that … nothing but silence.

...

Michelle ran, and ran, she ran until she couldn´t go any further, crying all the way. Tears of fear, of pain, of guilt. All these deaths, and now it was all up to her.

She went on. No matter how badly her feet ached, how much her legs shook. She ran and ran, stumbled through the woods, because she had to, because she had promised to make it. And she would keep that promise, so she kept running, until she finally, finally reached the city.

Leaving the safety of the woods needed a lot of courage and stepping out into the open was the hardest thing she ever had to do. But she did it, and vanished in the crowd of the streets of Paris. She had no idea how she found the house, or how she made it there alive, but when the door finally got opened, the elderly woman looking down on her was startled. And yet, somehow, Michelle could tell, that she knew, instantly, why she had come to their door.

She turned to call over her shoulder. "Eugene!"

And in that moment, at last, Michelle allowed herself to break down and cry.

...

Vidocq knew it was too late, even when they rode down the path, leading to the small farm. It didn´t matter anymore that they´d come here as fast as possible. He could see the blood even from afar.

There were no bodies. Just like last time. Only the blood. But that sight was more than he needed. And if there was anything that could at least remotely console him, then it was the fact that evidently more than just two men had died here. At least they had managed it to take some of these bastards with them.

Jacques stopped his horse beside him. And Vidocq could hear the fiacre, rolling to a stop just behind them.

"Keep them away." he told Jacques, his voice strangely horse. Damn he had known it was a bad idea to allow Cosette and Marius to tag along. No matter how determined they´d been, he should have forbidden it. But seeing how she demanded to be let through now, just proved that there was nothing he could have done, to keep her from following.

"What is it?" he heard her voice. "Let me through. I need to …"

Vidocq turned around just in time to see her and Marius stop short at the sight that already left him pale and shaken.

"No." she shook her head, skipping back until her fiance caught her in his arms. She fought him, almost fiercely, as if he was the enemy.

"No. NO!"

Marius would not let go until she finally succumbed to the arms holding her, simply crying. And all Vidocq could think was: Finished.

...

The ride home was quiet, like a mourning march. And somehow Vidocq believed he could still hear Cosette´s sobs, even through the walls of the carriage.

"What do you think?" Jacques asked him, quietly, from out of nowhere.

And Vidocq shook his head. "I know what I want to think." he sighed, heavily.

"She said they stood alone against ten." Jacques recalled. "Or more."

"I know."

Vidocq glanced back at the fiacre, sighing again. He´d so hoped for a different ending.

"You think there´s any chance we´ll ever find the bodies?" he asked, but Jacques looked at him as if he were crazy.

"We have their description. The girl can identify those men. We should focus on that."

Vidocq nodded. He was right. Of course he was right. At least Jean and Javert had faced their end together … and with dignity.

"Yeah, we need to finish this." he faced straight ahead. "Once and for all." It was about time these bastards were brought to justice.

...

They took the girl to the police prefect, right the next morning. When they stepped out of the carriage Cosette was holding Michelle´s hand – or maybe the girl was holding hers. Maybe they needed each other in this. Valjean had been Cosette´s father but this little girl had been the one who´d been with him just before he died. And when it was up to Cosette, she would probably even take the girl in, only to honor her father´s sacrifice. And maybe that was even a good idea.

...

It took a whole day until the questioning was done. They had the drawings, they had Michelle´s testimony, it would be enough. The arrests would happen soon, to bring those men Michelle accused before the court, to process them. With her testimony they would go away for the rest of their lives. And still Vidocq could not quite feel the victory, like he was used to feel it, when a case was solved. This one case had cost far too much.

He had seen a lot of death and unfairness in all his years. But watching how Cosette was grieving, all alone, despite the presence of her fiance and the girl, was painful. And if this hadn´t been enough he felt still restless with this case, and would stay restless for a while.

"I would like for you to go away someplace safer than here." Vidocq faced Cosette and the girl. "Just until the trial. We can protect you here but just to be on the safe side …"

"I understand." Cosette sounded hollow saying this.

"And …" the spy felt uncomfortable. "It might be good for you … you know … to be away from here. Right after … I-It just might help you … to let go."

"I understand." The same tone. The same empty look in her eyes. But somehow he could tell that she indeed knew what he meant.

...

"We will be with you all the way." Jacques promised them. "We´ll make sure you reach the destination safely."

The rough man looked down on Michelle and smiled at her, probably to make her feel better. But even Cosette could see that he was not as sure as he pretended to be.

She didn´t say a word, just took Michelle´s hand and got into the carriage. It was time to leave this city. Maybe even for good. If she was honest she didn´t plan to come back here. There were too many memories here. In those streets. The streets she had used to walk on her father´s hand, giving alms to the poor. Streets where he had told her stories about fairies and knights and princesses, as she grew up. Streets where she saw the dark face of Javert one day, and her father´s scared eyes, before he´d dragged her away.

She closed her eyes, willing the image away, angry at herself all the sudden. Stop thinking about this, she scolded herself. It won´t bring him back.

"Tell me how he was." Michelle´s voice startled her up. Her eyes were so open on Cosette, so pleading, and apologetic. "Your father." the girl clarified. "I only knew him so briefly."

Cosette felt how her heart tightened, threatening to break her down, and meeting Marius´ gaze, so sympathetic, all she could feel was sorry. For this girl that clearly felt guilty for something that was never her fault. She reached out a hand, and gently caressed her red hair.

"He was the most gentle and … generous man I ever knew." she told her. "If there was anything he could give to make someone happy … he would give it, without a second thought."

Michelle only nodded, solemnly. "This is exactly how he gave his life for me." she said, casting down her eyes. And Cosette believed her heart must break.

"He would have wanted us to live." she raised Michelle´s chin. "To take this gift he made for us and turn it unto something good, and lasting. Only this way can we honor what he gave for us. His sacrifice." And there she halted, unable at last to deny the mistake in this. So she corrected it. "Theirs." she said. "Their sacrifice."

Michelle looked at her, startled, just for a moment, as if she knew exactly how difficult this admittance must have been for her. But in the end she nodded, trying to be strong.

"I will." she said. "I promise. I will do what I must, to make these men pay. For the lives they took … from your family and mine."

Cosette felt the tears in her own eyes, and quickly took Michelle´s hands in hers. She placed a kiss on the girl´s head, and brought her own forehead to a rest on Michelle´s, closing her eyes, in a silent prayer.

"Yes." she whispered. "This is what we´ll do."

And that way they stayed, in silence, for a long time.

...

The sudden stop of the fiacre woke her up again, from her sad slumber, the girl in her arms. From outside she could hear Vidocq´s voice, and some others.

Marius peered out the window. "There´s police out there." he told them and Cosette tensed. After a few more exchanged words, that she couldn´t understand, the fiacre kept moving. Marius craned his neck even more. "It seems they´re escorting us."

"Escort us? Where?"

But that was something Marius of course couldn´t answer.

The street passed by as they drove around a corner and through a gate halfway down the way. They drove into the yard of an old factory as it seemed. Cosette began to feel uneasy.

The fiacre stopped, and all the sudden there were shouts from outside. Vidocq and Jacques. And then someone tore open the door and grabbed Marius. He got dragged out, and Cosette and Michelle were next. Someone pushed them down, to their knees, and from the corner of her eyes she saw Vidocq and Jacques, kneeling in the dirt, cuffed like criminals that were about to be executed. A man with a gun was standing behind them, another one before them. There were four in the whole, four men in police uniforms. And seeing this, Cosette understood with sudden clarity what was happening.

No!

"You can´t do this." Jacques cried. "People saw you with us. They´ll ask questions."

"They will see us again." the man pointed a gun at them. "Trying to catch the men who attacked us and killed you. Unfortunately they´ll be too fast for us."

"You son of a …" Vidocq tried to get up, but the man in his back, stroke him down, brutally.

"Believe me." the man before Vidocq spoke, aiming his gun at him. "Getting rid of your meddling ass will be a special treat to me, Vidocq. But business first." he looked over his shoulder, and ordered: "Kill the girl."

"No!" Cosette cradled the shivering child in her arms, protectively, as the man pulled a big knife and advance upon her.

Beside them Marius jumped up, attacking the man that tried to pull Michelle away, and for a moment he actually managed it to startle him. His partner came to help only a second later though, pulled Marius back and knocked him down.

Cosette winced, and tightened her hold around Michelle. The man with the knife was back. And this time he didn´t waste his time, trying to drag Michelle away from her. He simply raised his knife, to let it come down wherever it wanted.

"No, please, don´t." Cosette pulled Michelle back even more, but someone stepped up behind her, holding her in place. "Please, don´t do this, I´m begging you. Oh God, please."

The blade glistened in the sunlight, as it came down. And that was the moment, when a shout disturbed the attack.

"Hey!" the voice of a boy, just at the verge of his puberty vocal change, echoed over the backyard.

Cosette skipped aside, and the knife of the startled man missed her about a few inches.

"What are you guys doing there?" the boy cried, and Cosette caught a glimpse of something rushing away, behind the fiacre.

"Pascal?"

"Who´s this kid?" the man behind Cosette asked.

"Who cares." the knife wielder cried. "Just get him."

And with that the man holding Cosette was gone, pursuing Pascal, who was dodging corners and boxes and barrels, still shouting at the top of his lungs.

"I don´t think this´s what police´s supposed to do! Is it, mon ami?" he stopped just behind a barrel, just long enough to throw a glance at the leader of this gang.

"I know your face, buddy!" he shouted. "Think I should tell the chief of police what yer´all doing here? Don´t think he´d be too happy!"

A shot rang out, and missed him only about a few inches. Pascal stopped, shocked for a moment, and kept running a second later, avoiding the second shot that got fired at him, even closer than the first.

"No." Cosette cried. "Stop this."

But of course they wouldn´t. The third man fired his gun, and this time Pascal fell, landing in the dirt face first.

"Nooooo!"

The man with the knife turned back to Cosette, grabbing her hair. "And now …" he raised the knife.

"Son of a bitch!" Pascal´s voice was heavy with pain, but when Cosette looked, he was on his feet, reaching for the gate with one uninjured arm. And it was that sight that made the man with the knife halt.

The gate was open, Pascal fell back to the ground and a moment later all hell broke lose.

The gate got busted, half a dozen young police men storming in, shouting for their attackers to drop their weapons and surrender. And all Cosette knew was that between all this chaos, she suddenly heard her father´s voice, calling her name. And then he was there, with her, taking her into his arms, and for a moment she believed to have lost her mind.

"Papa?"

"Ah, Cosette!" he breathed, into her hair. "Oh thanks God. I´m so sorry. I´m sorry, Cosette."

Cosette saw over his shoulder, how the police – the real police – arrested those men that had almost killed them. She saw Vidocq and Jacques, getting up from the ground, just as startled as she was. She saw Marius, beside them, just waking up again. She saw Javert hobbling with one bandaged leg, leaning on a crutch, still wielding a gun. And as she met his gaze, she suddenly knew what had happened.

She could practically see it before her eyes. How her Papa and Javert had left the little cottage, to stall for Michelle. How Javert got shot in the leg, going down, her Papa probably trying to protect him against these killers. How they got surrounded, outnumbered and with no chance to survive any longer, ready to take and accept their fate together … until this young police officer and his comrades had come to save them.

Oh God!

"It´s all right. It´s all right, Cosette. I´m here now."

Beside them, Michelle helped Marius sit up, both of them so confused upon seeing Valjean alive and well. And all Cosette could do was embracing his presence. Because he was alive. Alive! And this was real. Oh God. "Thank you. Thank you, oh dear God."

Her Papa cringed as she squeezed tighter, and she let go, afraid she might have hurt him. He held his side, smiling painfully. The smile he usually had when he tried to pretend everything was fine. He´d gotten hurt too!

"Biringer!" Javert roared over the place. "This kid needs a doctor."

Cosette turned her head, and saw the young officer look down on Pascal, nodding. "Get him into the fiacre!" he ordered. "Andros, you drive him."

And after this Cosette witnessed something she never believed to be possible. Javert, the man she never stopped seeing as a monster in human disguise, was gentle. He helped Pascal up, pressing something against the wound on his shoulder.

"It´s just a flesh wound." he said. "Maintain pressure."

"I did good, didn´t I?" Pascal was smiling widely. "You heard my shouts?"

Javert only rolled his eyes. "The whole city heard your shouts, kid." he said. "But yeah." the ex police man met the eyes of Cosette´s father. "I guess you did good."

"I hope you believe me now." Biringer then spoke, as if it was necessary to repeat something he had not managed to convince Javert about. "Some of us can do the right thing, inspector. To serve justice."

Javert glanced about, at the police men that just got arrested by other police men – much younger than their dirty colleagues – and grunted. "Yeah." he said. "Some of you."

Cosette watched Biringer holding out a hand. "Maybe one day you´ll trust us again." he said. "And work with not against us."

Cosette watched anxiously, if Javert would take that hand, wondering why this was so important. But of course Javert didn´t. Instead he looked at her father, as if this sight was much more important right now than anything Biringer had to say. And for the first time in her life, Cosette agreed with him.

"Yeah." Javert said, speaking to Biringer while his eyes never left Valjean. "Maybe one day."

And that promise was all the young officer would get from him today.

Okay. The End. For now. If you want you can also read the Author´s Note, soon to come. But until then you can tell me what you think. Always happy about feedback.

And thanks for reading.