I apologize for the lack of updates--I was sick for nearly a week, and after that rehearsals for 'My Fair Lady' became much more involved, so I haven't had an opportunity to write for nearly a month (think rehearsals four nights a week, three hours or more per rehearsal). *falls over* Many thanks to my reviewers, by the way.
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After a very aggravating day involving sitting on the new tail numerous times, Javert made his slow way towards his tenement. Not only had he sat on his tail (a painful experience every time it occurred), but he was ferociously hungry all the time now. Only with a firm application of will-power did he keep to a normal schedule of eating, but he nearly spent a fortune just to take the edge off his hunger.
As he deliberately climbed the narrow steps to the front door Javert could vaguely hear Mme. Gillette clattering around in her 'office'. At least, he was pretty sure that he could hear her--the muffled effect in his crushed ears made them ring, probably a result from the painful position they were in under the hat. He wondered if there would be a time when he could leave them free and splendidly unrestrained--
"Ah, there you are, Monsieur." Yes, there Mme. Gillette stood in all her aged glory, effectively blocking the entrance to the building. Javert paused, looking for a way to go around her, but her considerable bulk prevented any passage.
Javert tapped the brim of his hat. "Bonjour, madame. If you don't mind, I'd like to go up to my room now."
Mme. Gillette crossed her arms. "First you take the hat off. I thought I had made myself clear, monsieur, when I said to take it off when you come in the house."
"Madame," Javert sighed (setting a firm hand on the hat in case she should snatch at it), "there is no one to see my hat and I will take it off the moment I go into my room. Now, if you don't mind--"
"Monsieur, I do have rules--"
"Madame let me past!" Javert bellowed the last phrase so loudly that it startled even Mme. Gillette. She stared at him with a surprised expression, and moved out of his way. Javert brushed past her and took the stairs two at a time, relieved that she hadn't pursued the matter but a little irritated that he had let his anger slip. The woman was maddening, but he usually didn't react that way towards her.
Within the peace and quiet of his room Javert tugged the hat from his head, letting the ears spring to their normal shape. It felt ridiculously nice to massage the tingling away and stretch them one way and then another, reveling in the freed sensation. At the other end (literally) the tail twitched, flicking the braided hair against his backside with a distinct tickling sensation. Yet another annoying side effect…the tail seemed to react to itching, tickling, tingling, and any other sensations with a twitch.
Javert carefully sat down on the edge of his bed, looking for a position that wouldn't crush the tail. Finally he found what seemed to be a happy medium of sorts and was free to wonder if Prideux had discovered anything that might be applicable to his situation. The thought occurred to him: perhaps he should be looking for his own answers instead of relying on a person he found irritating beyond normal means. The thought was tempting--but the thought of sitting for any period of time in a hard seat whilst looking up dusty old information was not.
He eased down to lie flat on his back and stare at the ceiling. His ears flicked back and forth as he slowly relaxed, catching little sounds from down below and outside. In a few minutes he was asleep.
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A loud crash woke Javert from his sleep; his eyes snapped open and he lay frozen for a moment, listening for another sound. When none came he relaxed a little and looked around; oddly enough, he seemed to be closer to the floor than he remembered his bed to normally be, and splinters of wood were pressed against his sides.
Sides? He didn't normally have sides that far down the mattress…
Javert leaned up on his elbows, awkwardly looking around the room. For some reason he couldn't roll onto his back, and he glanced down to see glossy black hair from the waist down. He jumped to his feet as if he'd been scorched, getting his legs tangled in the blankets and falling over with another resounding crash.
Once he pulled the blankets from his legs (amid much swearing) he gaped in bewilderment. A horse's lower body seemed to be attached to his waist (which explained the thick black hair but didn't explain anything else). Javert lifted a front leg cautiously, shaking the black hoof at the end in an effort to dislodge it. The hoof remained firmly attached, of course, and Javert stumbled across the room, wincing at the ungodly racket the hooves made.
"Hey! Keep quiet!" Mme. Gillette gave a decent bellow and accompanied it with a banging sound that rang through the floor. Javert flinched, freezing again, and listened carefully for another protest. Upon hearing none he tip-toed back towards the wreckage that used to be his bed and carefully lifted shreds of cloth that looked suspiciously like the pants he had been wearing. Looking over his shoulder he could see the glossy black hair upon the hindquarters, and bits of pant-leg still clung to his back legs.
Once the initial shock wore off, Javert raised his right hand to his ear and began twisting it. The calming sensation of having something tangible in his hand helped keep him from completely flipping out--and now his back itched. Upon pulling his shirt off he discovered a thick black mane running down his back and averaging about five inches in length. The hair tickled his back terribly. I'll have to do something about that, he thought.
After he had calmed down somewhat, Javert heaved a deep breath. Easy, I'll just wait in here until the other tenants leave. He tried not to think about what to do after that.
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Oddly enough, the tenants were all out of the building by 9 AM. What brought about this unforeseen good luck Javert didn't know, and he didn't question it. Once the last renter, an older man whose best days were behind him, had made his unbearably slow way down the stairs and outside, Javert forced himself to wait another half-hour before easing over the wooden floor and opening his door. Upon cracking the door he cautiously poked his head out and glanced up and down the hall, ears flicking uneasily. Muffled voices and steps sent him retreating back inside and locking the door. But after another five minutes, with the voices and steps never coming up the stairs or even noticeably closer, he tugged his uniform's shirt over his head, ignoring the itching sensation that accompanied his mane being pressed against his back. If he could just get downstairs and out the back door, he could keep to alleyways and sparsely populated areas of the city until he could find Prideux. He didn't really expect the sergeant to be able to help him, but there was always a chance that Prideux would surprise him.
He put on his greatcoat as best as he could--the tail bunched over the horse section and prevented him from buttoning from the waist down. Otherwise the natural cut of the coat fit him quite well in this form.
After making all necessary and foreseeable preparations, Javert opened the tenement door. A careful glance down the hallway assured Javert of his present safety--Mme. Gillette had left for her breakfast. Javert adjusted his top hat, this time leaving the ears free; if anyone saw him the ears would be the last thing they'd notice, considering the horse attached to his derriere.
Another cautionary glance, then Javert eased into the hallway. He turned unconsciously to the right due to the wall in front of himself--and promptly wedged his horse section solidly in the doorway. The moment he felt the resistance his first instinct was to jump forward, which firmly crushed his hip against the doorway and his face against the opposite wall.
Javert rolled his eyes as best he could whilst in his current position. All right, so that didn't quite work. Let's try back… He eased back a little, but only managed to squish his left leg and scrape his sideburns against the wall. After a little edging back and forth, he gave up and kicked the doorway. Hard. The plaster gave way pleasantly beneath his hoof, and finally freed his hindquarters. But now there was a huge hole in the wall. Javert looked back with a frown, decided that he really didn't have time to deal with this, and set off down the hallway.
He started easily enough, with a feeling that he was starting to get the hang of using four legs, when he ran into a minor obstacle: stairs. The stairs to the back door went down for about ten steps, then outside. Javert hesitated for a moment, then bravely plunged down the steps, stumbling a little at first but quickly picking up speed and rhythm. He managed to reach the door without slamming into it and slipped outside as easily as his now-centaurified-body could.
The chill November air swept through the confused airways between buildings, blowing first one direction and then another as if it couldn't make up its mind which way to go. Javert's ears twitched nervously, and he felt an uneasiness at being so exposed. All the open space and corners and shadows--he froze and listened as hard as he could. The only sound that came to his ears proved to be the indistinct mutterings from the street at the front of the building, but they could barely be heard above the whining of the wind through various buildings. Once he was sure that no one was possibly in the near vicinity, he set off at a quick trot to weave through the alleys and backstreets of Paris.
Obviously it was only a matter of time before Javert would meet someone, despite the precautions he took to slow every hundred feet or so and listen carefully. During one of these pauses he heard the high-pitched voice of a child--no, children--alternately squabbling and playing together. From the sounds they seemed to be approaching quickly; he flattened himself against a wall as best he could and buried his chin into his greatcoat. Something he had discovered some time ago was that people of the unobservant sort tended not to look up or at inconspicuous objects that did not move. Unfortunately, these children proved not to be the unobservant type.
"Look, a horse!"
"Where's its head?"
"Quick, grab it!"
Javert swore and leaped forward without thinking; the kids shrank back of one accord, alternately tripping over the garbage in the alleyway or squealing amongst themselves about shoving. Javert took advantage of the confusion to bolt into a fast canter. The sudden speed surprised even him, and he could barely keep an eye on the junk that customarily littered the average Parisian alleyway fast enough to dodge them.
When he finally slowed several blocks later he could barely hear over the gasping of his own breath. But the gamins (he was sure they were gamins with those torn clothes and faces covered with perpetual grime) had given up the chase. Javert heaved another breath and glanced down at his legs.
His headlong flight had resulted in running through every other pile of refuse in the alley. As such, his legs were now covered, wrapped, entangled, or otherwise covered in garbage from hoof to knee. As he leaned over and picked the junk from his legs he wondered if it would be too severe to swear the filthy little demon-gamins out. It'd make him feel better, anyway.
Javert managed to clean his legs off without swearing too much (that stain of some kind of rotten fruit adhering solidly to the hair of his back hocks was too much to keep his mouth shut), brushed his hands off with a disgusted grimace, and looked around. Oh, lovely. Of all places, why did I have to run up to the back door of the Prefecture itself??
Admittedly, the back of the Prefecture wasn't exactly conducive to Javert's desires at the moment--people were coming and going out of the huge building all the time, using the back door not as often as the front but still using it. At the fear of being caught he slinked back into the alley.
But you can find Prideux here, a little voice yelled (since it was little, that wasn't very loud, but it was noticeable). Remember? You were going to find him anyway.
Or you could just wait at his house, another little voice intervened. He wouldn't be very surprised…maybe…
The little voices (respectively A and B) started yelling at each other, one pooh-poohing the idea of waiting and the other screaming out the stupidity of searching. Javert tried to tune the whole mess out and studied the windows of the Prefecture with sudden interest. Maybe there was a way to get Prideux's attention…but before he could put the plan into action the back door opened.
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