Facades
When the carriage entered the city through the big gates, it felt as if they got delivered to their judge, who would sentence them to death. Cosette had no idea how she knew that a man felt like this when he was on a death row. Maybe it was just her dark thoughts telling her that this was what it had to feel like. Maybe for real it wasn´t that bad. Maybe for real it was worse. She didn´t know. Couldn´t know. And if she´d had a choice she wouldn´t even let her thoughts go into that direction. Thinking about death like that, when Marius was sitting right next to her.
But wouldn´t that be kind of classical romantic? If they went to death together, so briefly after they had found each other? The tragic love that could only exist in death? Like Romeo and Juliet? Only it wasn´t their families who drove them to this fate. It was soldiers. Murderers. Cruel and heartless police men like Javert.
She closed her eyes, praying that her Papa was safe, wherever he was. That he would know Javert´s true colors before it was too late. That he would escape him, and come at last, to save her and Marius. Please, Papa. I need you. Please, where are you?
The carriage stopped, and Cosette felt the urgent hand of her love, grabbing her wrist.
"Cosette!" Marius breathed, shaking her hand. "Cosette, look."
And she did. Through the window she could see the street, blocked by a crowd of people, and police men who obviously kept them in line, as if there was a new borderline here, that wasn´t allowed to be crossed. And for a moment Cosette had a strange feeling of Dejavu. As if she´d lived through this moment once already.
"What happened here?" she asked, just as their capturer got up from his seat, to leave the carriage at last.
Moreau at last took down his gun, and hid it, underneath his coat. "You stay calm, and no one will get hurt." he growled at them, reaching for the door.
Marius lay his arm around Cosette, protectively, but didn´t say a word. Together they watched him step out into the street, to see what was going on.
"Phillipe." he called his driver. "What´s the matter? Why don´t we just drive around this?"
"Look behind." was the answer and when Moreau did, Cosette and Marius craned their necks to peek out of the window.
The street behind them was crowded just as much. No way for the carriage to turn. Moreau cursed. His gaze met Cosette´s for a moment, but obviously he dismissed his two hostages, in favor of looking about, for a better chance to get out of this mess. And that was the moment Cosette felt it.
It came right from Marius, as if their minds were combined in one. His hand grabbed hers a little tighter, and that was all it took. She knew, instantly, what he would do. And even though she still had this strange out of body feeling, as if she knew this situation, another part of her was ready to follow him, whatever would happen.
"Try to break out sideways." Moreau ordered his driver. "They will skip back."
He turned back to the door, hand reaching out to open it. And Marius moved. He kicked against the door, smashing it into Moreau´s face, and the man stumbled back, grunting surprised. Cosette didn´t think. She simply followed, as Marius jumped out, holding his shoulder against the pain. He took only a moment to bow down to Moreau, and for a moment Cosette had the strange idea of him trying to check if he was all right. Was he mad? But then she saw him reach under the man´s coat, retrieving his gun. When Moreau tried to grab him, he knocked the weapon into his face.
Cosette glanced at the driver, crying in her mind, for Marius to hurry up. And then he took her hand, and they just ran. She could hear the driver, behind them, having spotted them at last.
"Hey!" he shouted and as they ran down the street, past all these people, Cosette suddenly felt that this was wrong. The whole setting of this moment was false. It was bright daylight but it should be night. They were surrounded by dozens of people, but the street should be abandoned. Nothing of this was right. And yet she had no idea why. And neither did she know why she expected someone to yell a strange meaningless row of numbers after her. But she knew one thing. The voice that once had shouted those numbers was evil. And if anyone would find them, and drag them back, to be punished for this attempted escape, it would be the owner of this voice.
But no one came.
...
When the two men left the house, it was in a hurry. Not that anyone would have noticed that. They walked in a normal pace and were dressed casually enough to pass as normal citizens. The old rags they had worn before were left behind, dropped where they had taken them off, in Valjean´s case along with some very bloody bandages. None of them had taken their time to pack the remains away, for none of them knew if they´d ever even return to this place.
Now they wore fine clothing again. Nothing fancy but clean and proper. The two beggars had become two gentlemen again, if one overlooked the beards and hats, hiding most of their faces.
"We can´t take the carriage, or the horses with us." Javert had decided, very reasonably. "Both draw too much attention. We´ll take a cab to get to your place."
And Valjean had agreed. The horses were free, to graze in the garden, so they would be all right. And other than that they couldn´t afford to care about the animals any more. Now it was about their own lives. The whole way through the city, Javert seemed to watch the street out of the window, almost paranoid. And his demeanor made Valjean nervous. Because if Javert was paranoid, didn´t he have any reason to be too?
A few streets from the address they let the cab drop them off, to walk the rest of the way. Just in case someone should find this cabman and ask him about the two men he drove to a certain address. And still Javert wouldn´t let his eyes rest, but wander around, all the time. As if he was looking for something.
"How far is it?" he asked at some point and Valjean gestured with his head.
"Just another corner."
Javert nodded, and urged him sideways, towards an alley. "Let´s take a shortcut." he said and with that the two men vanished in the narrow way between two houses.
A man, not much more than a passerby fastened his steps when he saw this, hurrying to not to lose them. As he peeked into the allay, he saw the shape of one of them, just passing the corner on the other end, and he had to speed up yet again. He mustn´t lose them. His mission depended on it. The orders had been clear. If he didn´t find out where they´d hide, he could have spared to follow them in the first place. For this was the only reason why he was here.
His steps echoed in the narrow allay, as he hurried to its end. He sped up once again. His targets would be too far ahead already. He dodged the corner, and saw Valjean´s face, too close, only a moment before he saw his hand. And then he only saw bright stars, exploding before his eyes.
He stumbled back, the pain in his nose just reached his conscious mind, realizing what had happened. And then someone was in his back, an arm around his neck, choking him. His struggles were useless. The air was cut off, and the arm pressing against his throat uncompromising. Slowly but with no way to avoid it, his world faded into black.
...
"What have you done?" Valjean cried. "You killed him."
"Don´t be ridiculous." Javert breathed, dropping the unconscious man to the ground. "Come on now, help me. We need to bring him to your place before he wakes up."
And in his total lack of any other option, Valjean obeyed, slinging the arm of the man around his shoulder, just like Javert did, and together they carried their unexpected hostage down the street, like two men simply helping their drunken friend to get home from the tavern.
...
It was the least to say that Cosette was surprised to find two horses grazing in their garden, the carriage they had once been harnessed to, parked at the far wall just before the window of her room. The carriage Marius grandfather had left them. The carriage her Papa had no doubt taken to come back here, to Paris.
Only he wasn´t there. The house was abandoned. Eerily silent. And then the shock when she entered the sitting room. It looked as if a fight had happened here. Clothes lay thrown around, carelessly, and old torn sheets, soaked with blood. Oh God.
"No." she breathed. "Papa." She hurried to this bunch of rags, as if it was her Papa himself, and stopped dead just before it, unable to decide what to do. "Oh dear God, what has he done to him?"
Marius, who had taken her shoulders, to calm her down, frowned at her, startled.
"He?"
But all Cosette saw was the blood. She barely heard Marius, barely even felt his gentle touch.
"I knew we couldn´t trust him." she cried, tears stinging her eyes. "Oh God, if he did harm him in any way …"
And at last she accepted the comfort Marius´ presence offered, and threw herself into his embrace. An uncertain arm folded around her shoulders.
"Are you talking about the inspector?" he asked, as if he truly didn`t know.
She looked up at him, shocked. "How can you not …?" she stammered. "You see what I see."
His eyes fell down, to the bloody rags, and his eyes were full of compassion. But still … he frowned.
"Why do you think the inspector did this?" he asked. "He was trying to help him."
Cosette was struck, to the bone. Hearing those words, so blind and unknowing from the man she loved, was like a slap across the face. How could he not see? How?
"How can you be so blind? He always hated him. He …"
But here she couldn´t finish. Something held her back. Years of teaching, to be quiet, never to talk about these things, not even to think about it. Oh her mind was raging, something deep inside her, something that had always tried to break through, to be seen, to hear and learn of a truth she´d never been allowed to know. Now the truth was staring her right into her face. From the ground at her feet. The blood. Oh God, the blood. And it was all his fault.
Marius only looked at her, so dumbfounded, unknowing.
"Cosette, what are you talking about?"
But she couldn´t say. Mustn´t. He´d forbidden it. Never. Never was she to ask him. About the past. About him.
"I always knew he hid from me." she spoke, not able to hold it back. "What once has been, before I could remember. But this man … Javert." she shook her head, in deep anger. "He knew my father from a long time ago. I don´t know what happened between them, that he hated him so much. But my father always feared him. Always warned me from him." She looked at Marius, and there was an expression of such pity in his eyes, she could barely stand it. It broke her heart. "This is why I don´t understand." she felt the tears swell in her eyes again, her voice choked. "How he could give him his trust now." The tears fell. "How, Marius? How could he do this?"
But Marius only shook his head. He had no answer, except: "Maybe he didn´t think he´d had any other choice. Maybe he was trying to protect you."
And those words were like a dagger into her already broken heart.
"He´s the one that needed protection." she choked. "And now it might be too late for that." She shook her head, trying to fight back the tears that were already falling. "Oh God, if he has hurt him …"
When Marius pulled her into his arms, she didn´t fight. She just let him hold her, giving up at last, and just cried.
"Shhhh Cosette." he gently stroke her hair, her back, her shaking shoulders. "We will find him. And warn him. Everything will be all right. I promise."
But she knew he couldn´t promise this. Not even he could. Her Papa was alone out there, on his own against this devil in human form. Maybe he was already dead by now. How would she know? How?
And that was the moment, when someone broke the door, suddenly and like a berserker they stormed into the house. The house that had been her home for many years. And all Cosette could see was their uniforms. Uniforms like his. Police men. Like him.
"Freeze!" one of them yelled, and Marius pushed Cosette away, towards the back door.
"Cosette run!"
And with that he threw himself at the men, pushing the gun upwards, releasing the shot into the ceiling.
"No."
Cosette wanted to help him. To drag him with her, to safety. But the other men found her, and they would not wait for Marius to be done with the man he struggled with. They were coming. To get her. To throw her into the darkness. To bring her to him.
And in this moment, all of Cosette´s conscious thoughts were wiped out, and she reacted on pure instinct. She bolted, for the door, her heart beating in her chest, into her throat. Her whole mind was swirling with fear. She heard a man shout after her, to stop or he would shoot.
But she couldn´t stop. Not ever. Because he had come to get her. Oh God she could feel his hot breath in her neck. And her Papa. Oh God, her Papa. He wasn´t here. She was alone. And he had found her at last.
"Stop!" the man behind her roared again. The gate was just ahead of her, just across the garden. And then there was a shot.
An agonizing scream echoed through the neighborhood.
...
The water that splashed into his face was cold and and cruel, forcing him out of his sleep violently. Gysbert didn´t like coldness at all, and especially when the skin on his face was warm from the sleep. His heart started pounding in his chest, and he gasped, in shock. What the …?
"Ah, there he is." a deep voice spoke, and Gysbert faced the man that once had been a respected police officer. Now he looked like a criminal. A criminal that indeed, had him, Gysbert in his grasp. Figuratively.
"Welcome back, Monsieur." Javert spoke, putting away the cup he´d used to wake Gysbert so roughly. And that was the moment when Gysbert noticed that he couldn´t move his arms. Or legs for that matter. He was bound to a chair. God dammit. This shouldn´t have happened.
"So now …" Javert leaned forward. "You will answer some of my questions."
Gysbert looked about, haunted, for a moment. The other man was there too, watching from the background.
"Whoever you think I am, I am not." Gysbert told them both, but of course they didn´t believe him.
"I know you work for Lecomte, so don´t try to fool me." Javert said. "Just answer my questions and this might be not as unpleasant for you as it could be."
Gysbert glared at this man, not giving a response. Everything he could have said right now would have been wrong, and he knew it. Better not say anything. At all.
"What were Lecomte´s orders to you?" Javert demanded, and Gysbert kept glaring. "Did he order you to kill us or just to spy on us? And when does he expect you to report back to him?"
"I´m not working for Lecomte." the words were out, before Gysbert could stop himself. But seriously, what a stupid question was that?
Of course Javert did not see it that way. "What is he up to?" he just kept asking. "Are there any more people he plans on killing?"
"You´re wrong." Gysbert tore on his bonds. "Release me, or I swear to you, you will regret it."
But all he got for this threat was a smile, as if the inspector laughed at him. You want to threaten me, his gaze seemed to ask, and Gysbert once again got reminded unpleasantly on the ropes holding him. Dammit why did he not see this coming? When they´d entered that alley he should have guessed something. He should have …
"Who else is involved in this?" Javert demanded. "I know he´s not the only one. Who else?"
"I´m not allowed to tell you these things."
At this Javert seriously laughed out. "Did you just hear that?" he asked his partner in crime, not even looking at him. "Well, that´s a bummer. You are not allowed to tell me this. Tell you what, man. I won´t allow you not to tell me." And from out of nowhere he held a knife in his hand, pointing it at Gysbert´s chin.
"Javert." the less violent man in the room exclaimed, alarmed, but got ignored.
"Who else is involved?" Javert demanded, eyes fixed on Gysbert´s.
And when Gysbert only glared at him, Javert moved, to punish his stubbornness. But it wasn´t the knife that came at him. Instead he got the fist of the man into his chest, and for a moment, that felt like eternity, Gysbert was in a total loss for air. As if his lungs had ceased function. He barely heard the second cry of: "Javert!"
"Stay out of this." the ex police man ordered, his eyes never leaving Gysbert. And finally Gysbert managed it to take in another breath, his own gasp hurting his chest and throat. "I want an answer." Javert demanded.
But Gysbert was not that easy to break.
Javert shook his head, fuming. "You really seem to want this." he growled, and Gysbert bit his lip, preparing for the next punch. Which came promptly. Javert´s anger seemed to increase with each fist he smacked into his face.
"I want an answer!" he shouted and that was the moment when he got dragged back.
"JAVERT!"
But Javert only swirled around, pushing his partner back. "I told you to stay out of this." he snarled.
"And I told you to stop." was the fearless respond.
For a moment Gysbert was allowed to catch a break, as Javert´s attention was diverted. He laughed at the other man´s words.
"You don´t have anything to tell me." he growled, eyes hard as stone. "This is a fair warning. Stay out of my way."
But the other man shook his head. "I saw you do this once." he said. "I will not stand by and let you do this a second time."
Gysbert felt a wave of cold fear wash over him, when Javert´s only response was: "Then leave the room."
"No." the other man did not waver.
"Then I hope you´re ready to watch."
Javert simply turned back to Gysbert, ready to pick up where he´d been interrupted. And Gysbert tensed. But before Javert could attempt to continue his interrogation, a hand grabbed his shoulder, from behind. Only it didn´t work. The inspector was too determined to torture his hostage, and his attack way too fast and too violent, for the other man to fend it.
He fell, pushed back with the force of a predator that defended his prey, and landed in the corner, a very angry Javert looming over him. He still had the knife in his hand.
"I told you to stay out of this." he growled, dangerously low, and his fingers were iron around the handle of the knife. "If you don´t want to get injured even more, stay out of my way."
Their gazes for each other were so full of hate and anger, that Gysbert seriously doubted to get out of this alive. If even they were ready to slash each other´s throats … Maybe this time he had burned the candle at both ends, when he´d accepted this task. Following two men who had nothing to lose. What did he expect to find?
Eventually Javert dismissed his unreliable partner and turned back to Gysbert, the rage now pure in his eyes.
"And now I want an answer." he rasped, still clutching the knife. "How do I find Lecomte? TELL ME!"
But Gysbert couldn´t. Mustn´t. He had his orders, never to tell. And there was too much at stake for him to forget this order. Even if it meant that he had to bleed for this. Literally. So when Javert´s eyes flashed with rage, ready to kill, all Gysbert could do was keep up the stubborn facade, and shake his head.
Javert nodded, his gaze burning like that of a mad man.
"I´ll make you talk." he promised and finally he raised the knife.
Gysbert clutched the armrests he was bound to, tensing, expecting the pain, that would come any second. But then his eyes caught something behind Javert. An unexpected movement, that seemed to come from out of nowhere.
He´d almost forgotten Valjean, even though it had been only a minute since Javert had pushed him down. And now that he was back, swinging this club at the mad man with the knife, Gysbert counted all his lucky stars for the man´s gentle heart. A heart that even made him turn against his own partner, to save the skin of a possible enemy.
The strike hit Javert unprepared, and the club was too heavy to miss its purpose. Javert went to his knees, grunting, but still far from being knocked out. He´d lost the knife, and instantly reached for it. A mistake. Had he left it where it was he might have seen the foot that was aimed at his face. He might have been able to dodge this kick. But he didn´t.
One kick was enough, and the former inspector Javert lay on the ground, unconscious. Gysbert´s sensitive skin was safe, at least for the time being.
Valjean was panting, the club still in his hands, as he looked down on the other man. As if he expected Javert to jump up and attack again, even now. But he didn´t. He´d knocked him out just fine, Gysbert could tell. And as if Valjean had heard that, his eyes darted to him, glaring not much friendlier than Javert had been glaring at him.
Gysbert didn´t dare to speak. Not just yet. He didn´t know what the other man would do. He might have saved his life for now, but he was still dangerous. He was still a fugitive on the run, and Gysbert was a threat, that could lead to discovery. Something no man on the run would ever ignore if he was smart. And Valjean was smart. And he was dangerous. The gaze that currently lay on Gysbert was that of a cornered animal.
Eventually the club fell to the ground, almost careless, as if the man that had used it to smack his partner over the head only a minute ago, did not want to have anything to do with it anymore. He groaned, holding his injured shoulder, but that was all Gysbert heard of his voice. He didn´t address him, didn´t speak a word. He only walked past him, to the window, and leaned against the frame, looking out, as if lost in thought. As if he wasn´t sure what to do, now that Javert was out. Was he serious?
"He won´t be out forever." Gysbert cried. "You need to release me."
But all he got was a dry laughter. "I shall release you?" his savior asked. "So you can finish your mission and kill us both?"
"My orders were not to kill you."
Gysbert took a moment to consider if it was a violation of his order to reveal that. But what else could he do? He´d gotten a chance. And if he didn´t take advantage of this now, winning this man´s trust, he´d be an idiot.
"Then what were your orders?" was the reluctant response, and from here Gysbert really didn´t have much of a choice anymore.
"I was just to find out where you´d go and hide." he told the man, hoping that this would be enough. "We need to keep an eye on you."
And the other man seemed to understand. "You told the truth, didn´t you?" he stepped forward. "You really don´t work for Lecomte?"
Gysbert sighed, but shook his head, affirmative.
"Who do you work for?"
"I can´t tell."
And once again he got rewarded with a laugh.
"I´m afraid you´ll have to." Valjean said. "Or I won´t be able to help you a second time when he wakes up."
"He will be as mad at you when he wakes up."
"Sure. But that´s something I can handle. He won´t hurt me. He needs me and he knows that. You on the other hand … you didn´t give me any reason to trust you."
"I´m not your enemy."
"Prove it to me."
"I know you were a convict just like me." Gysbert immediately took the challenge, not able to help himself. "Valjean."
The name caused a reaction of shock, and Gysbert would have lied if he´d claimed he didn´t enjoy this. It was the part of him that couldn´t help but seek out the situations that would most likely get him killed. Giving a wanted man like Valjean a reason to kill him, was only one example for this. And Gysbert knew this. He knew and he still couldn´t help it.
Valjean´s gaze hardened, as he stepped towards him. "How do you know my name?" he demanded.
"I know even more about you." Gysbert informed him, giving up the facade at last. It was no use anyway. Not after what just happened. "The man I work for knows you." he told Valjean.
"Who knows me?"
This question at last, as urgent as it had been spoken, made Gysbert halt again. Made him think again, and reconsider. This was not only about him. If he revealed the name, he´d endanger his commander too. And all the others. Did he have the right to even consider that?
On the floor Javert started to groan, stirring again, waking up. Valjean looked down on him, but he didn´t do anything. He really didn´t seem to have any intention on stopping Javert again, when he woke up.
His gaze was clear when he looked at Gysbert again. Last chance, it said. I won´t help you a second time.
And somehow Gysbert knew that this was true.
"He was in prison with you." he told Valjean. "Only for a few months but still. I doubt that you´ll remember him. But he remembers you."
Again Valjean stepped closer, looking down on him, demanding. "Who?"
Gysbert sighed, praying that he did the right thing. He said: "His name´s Vidocq."
And at this name, Valjean suddenly halted, frowning. The name rang a bell, Gysbert could tell. Only he didn´t know which one. His frown was that of a man, that wasn´t entirely sure, where he´d heard the name before. And in his failure to remember, the ex prisoner turned around, to look at the man that once had been his warden.
It was not before this moment, that Gysbert noticed that Javert was already wide awake by now. He knelt on the floor, not groggy as one would expect it from a man that just came back around after being knocked out. Not a bit disoriented. Instead his eyes were clear, and just as startled as Valjean´s. He stared at Gysbert, as if to ask: Is this supposed to be a joke?