Disclaimer: All characters belong to Victor Hugo.

So many times before he had seen happiness, but not even once he thought it could also be his.

For what was he? Just the scum of the streets, the lesser of beings, barely a human being.

That didn't mean he hadn't wished for it, because he had, many times in the past, but wishes are often eclipsed by the shadow of duty. In the end, the need to survive was greater than the wish to live, and so, he had to let go of his dreams and deal with his cold and dark reality.

Sins were committed, bread was stolen, verdicts were spoken, years were wasted and sentences were fulfilled. But wishes remained forgotten.

His life, it was pitch black.

But suddenly a fallen angel died on his arms, and with her dying breath, she gave to his life the greatest of gifts: the gift of meaning. So he had pursued happiness… and he had finally started to reach it, the same way someone reaches death: slowly, but surely.

Now, Jean Valjean could only dream and hope that little Cosette could someday love him much as he already loved her.

For what was he now? No one, an impostor, a fugitive.

Alas, a human being.

But of one thing he was sure: he would make himself worthy of her love.

A love that would purge his darkness with its light.

A light that almost felt like heaven's light.

He was a righteous man. Proud of his morals, and fiercely loyal to his beliefs.

Then, why did his soul sometimes burned with the sick feeling of doubt?

Not totally, because he wouldn't allow it.

He was too strong to permit it, but the lingering will of doubt never truly left his soul. He could feel it, and in the darkest of nights, he could see it. It blazed through his skin, it scorched his heart. But the worse of it all was that it made him doubt.

Maybe, he thought, he was just like the rest of them. Justice was no longer a rope he could hang on to whilst he drowned in the turbulent seas of uncertainty. It was gone, just like his soul.

For how can a man be worthy of living if that he hates forgives him?

How can a wolf not starve to death when his own prey stops running to look him in the eye and makes the wolf wonder if he is really the hunter or the one being hunted ?

The law had forsaken him, or perhaps, he had forsaken it first. But it wasn't his fault.

He had to blame.

24601.

It was all thanks to him.

Too late Javert understood that darkness itself was a special kind of light.

A light that help us see through the brightest of lights. Because too often, lights like those become blind due their own fierce shine, and start burning everything they once fought for.

Too late Javert understood that his proud light was not really a light anymore.

It burned like fire and stung like doubt.

His light was now a dark fire.

Hellfire.

All he could do now was to die as he had lived : he would allow no one to have mercy on him. Not Jean Valjean, not God.

And specially, not himself.

Thanks for reading!

And yes, this is kinda based on the songs "Heaven's Light/Hellfire" from the Hunchback of Notre Dame :D They strangely fit the characters of Jean Valjean and Javert! Maybe it's because Victor Hugo also wrote Hunchback... that, or I am just way too obsessed with Les Mis right now, haha.