Chapter Sixteen

Javert had been dreading this moment all day. He had promised Madeleine that he would come to dinner and he could appreciate the sentiment behind the request but it was just all too informal for a member of the police to dine with the mayor at his home. At least Madeleine did not live in a house suiting one of his ranking or Javert really did not know how he could stomach it. But he had made a commitment to his superior and so he had to go

He would not have thought that such a thing were possible, particularly after the Jean Valjean incident, but it would appear that Madeleine was determined to just pretend that that whole thing had never happened.

He knocked and almost immediately the door sprang open and Cosette was beaming up at him. "Hello, Inspector!"

Was she waiting by the door for him to arrive? How very odd. Didn't they have a portress for that sort of thing?

Sure enough, an older woman followed after her.

"Monsieur Inspector," she greeted him with a smile. "Please, allow me to take your coat."

Reluctantly, Javert surrendered it. It was only proper, after all, but it did put something of a damper on his ability to leave. Not that he anticipated the mayor would keep him against his will but he still felt strangely naked without it.

"Papa said that I was to get him at once when you got here so let's go," Cosette said, grabbing his hand and starting to tug him along.

It took him a moment to realize what was happening before he pulled away from her though he did continue to follow her.

"You always do that," Cosette complained, pouting. "Why?"

"Because I do not like it when people grab my hand," Javert replied, wondering why she would need such a simple concept explained to her.

Cosette nodded. "But why?"

"Because I do not."

"That's not a reason," Cosette said.

"Why do you like grabbing onto other people's hands then?" Javert challenged.

"That's easy," Cosette told him. "It makes me happy to touch other people. And I feel safe when I'm holding Papa's hand. You're a police inspector so I can feel safe with you, too. Papa promised."

It was hardly his job to make young girls feel safe, even when those young girls were the daughters of his superior, but there was no harm in her feeling safe that his duties were being performed to the best of his abilities. He did rather like to think that the streets of Montreuil, already hardly rife with crime, were a little safer for his actions.

"So you can like grabbing my hand because it makes you happy but I need a better reason to not like it than it makes me unhappy?" Javert asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, Cosette," Madeleine said, chuckling, as they entered what must be the dining area. "Do not pester our guest."

"I won't, Papa," Cosette said, going over to hug him.

Madeleine knelt down so he could hug her back properly and then straightened to face Javert. "Javert, I am pleased that you could make it this evening."

"I said that I would."

"You did, yes," Madeleine agreed a little awkwardly. "Would you please sit down?"

Javert nodded and the three of them sat down.

"Papa, where are the silver candlesticks?" Cosette asked. "I like them."

Madeleine started coughing and Javert politely diverted his attention to the portress who was bringing in some soup.

"Are you okay?" Cosette asked, concerned.

"I am, yes, thank you," Madeleine assured her. "I just…I like them, too, but I'm afraid that…we quite ran out of polish and I did not notice until too late. Please forgive my vanity, Javert, but I would rather not display tarnished silver."

"It is no matter to me," Javert replied.

"I am afraid that I did not know what you liked to eat so I hope this will be satisfactory," Madeleine told him.

Javert took a spoonful of soup. "This is very good."

Madeleine smiled at him. "I am glad to hear it."

"This is my favorite soup," Cosette declared.

Madeleine chuckled fondly. "That's what you said about the last three soups you've had."

Cosette frowned for a moment before her brow cleared. "Well, they are all my favorite soup."

"I think you might be missing the meaning of the word 'favorite'," Javert told her.

Cosette shook her head. "No, I know what it means. Favorite means that you love it the best. Like Papa is my favorite."

Madeleine colored but looked pleased.

"Yes that is what it means," Javert conceded.

"So I do know what it means," Cosette said.

"But you cannot have everything be your favorite," Javert protested.

"I don't have everything be my favorite," Cosette insisted. "Only those things."

"Do you have any soup that isn't your favorite?"

"The soup I had before I met Papa," Cosette answered promptly.

"How can you have one soup that you like best of all, your favorite, if so many of them are your favorite?" Javert demanded.

"I like them all equally, that's how," Cosette said.

"Perhaps we should discuss something else," Madeleine broke in.

Javert realized suddenly that he had been arguing with a child (and in front of her father the mayor no less!) and stiffened. Madeleine's expression was tolerantly amused but Javert imaged that he could detect a hint of reproach there. And if there wasn't because Madeleine refused to behave like a rational superior then there should have been.

But she really did have such a dreadful understanding of these things!

"Of course," he said belatedly.

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Did you arrest any criminals today?" Cosette asked abruptly.

Madeleine practically choked on his food. "Cosette!"

"What?" Cosette asked innocently. "At dinner we always talk about our day and Inspector Javert arrests criminals at work so I wanted to know if he caught someone."

"I'm sure that Inspector Javert would rather not go through his day for your amusement," Madeleine told her.

Cosette looked disappointed and Javert literally had no better topic to introduce (and it would seem that Madeleine did not either) so he said, "I do not mind."

Cosette brightened at once. "Oh, thank you!"

Madeleine hesitated, taking a long considering look at Javert. "Alright. But please try not to scare her."

"I could never be scared of someone stopping bad guys," Cosette insisted. "Even if the law is mean sometimes."

Javert's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "The law is mean sometimes?" he repeated, his eyes on Madeleine. It was almost an accusation.

Madeleine held up his hands and laughed. "That was your doing, Javert, not mine."

"Really."

"It was, actually, I'm afraid. You and your story of…what was that man's name?" Madeleine asked, furrowing his brow.

Javert was a little surprised that Madeleine could not remember Valjean's name since Javert had mistaken him for that man but he supposed that who, exactly, Javert had mistaken Madeleine for was not important, only that he was a convict. And Madeleine, not actually being a convict and thus having nothing to fear, had never really taken the news as badly as Javert really felt he should have, even if by the time Javert disclosed the information he had been convinced that he was wrong.

"It was Jean Valjean," Cosette said helpfully.

Madeleine nodded. "Ah, right."

"How is that evidence that the law is mean?" Javert asked, flabbergasted. Then, before anyone could say anything, he held up a hand. "Wait, never mind, don't tell me. You and I will never come to an agreement on this and I do not imagine I shall have much more luck with your child."

Madeleine smiled at the mention of Cosette being his child because he was entirely too sentimental.

"Did you?" Cosette asked eagerly.

"Did I what?" Javert asked, frowning. "Ah, did I arrest anyone today? No, I did not."

Cosette sighed sadly.

"It is a good thing, Cosette," Madeleine said gently. "It means that the people are safer since there was not a big crime to investigate. Places where people are arrested all of the time tend to be more dangerous. And this means that no poor soul was driven to such desperation as to break the law and spend too many years in our too harsh prisons."

Javert narrowed his eyes. Perhaps Madeleine had not directly told Cosette that the law was mean (the childish phrasing not sound like something that someone as old as Madeleine would say anyway) or induced sympathy for Valjean in her but if he was going around teaching her things like that then was it any wonder the girl was confused? The streets were safer when there was less crime but less arrests did not always mean less crime (the criminal classes were incorrigible and arresting one just led to another one popping up to take his place). And too harsh prisons? Too many years spent there? Those poor criminals!

It was times like these that Javert remembered why he had been so certain that Madeleine was a convict himself because how else could he honestly believe these things? But he wasn't and it must just be that he was a saint who had never seen enough of the world to know the reality of his ideals.

"I know," Cosette admitted. "But everyone being happy and safe does not make for a very interesting story."

Madeleine did not seem to know what to say to that.

"I can tell you about an arrest I made two weeks ago," Javert offered.

"Oh, would you?" Cosette asked, her eyes wide.

"I would not have offered if I was not willing to," Javert could not help replying. "It began with the disappearance of a statue."

"A statue disappeared?" Cosette asked, fascinated. "But they're so big! How would one take it away? And without anybody noticing?"

"That was the first thing we wondered but we knew we wouldn't know for sure until we caught the man," Javert told her. "Of course, it turned out not to be just one man. How could it be? But we really hadn't expected…"

There had been too many awkward moments for Javert's taste though admittedly not everything had been awkward which had been what he had expecting. Apparently Madeleine had been expected one long awkward moment after another as well for when that failed to happen he had declared the evening a success.

That would not have been so bad if he had not invited Javert over for dinner again every week since then. Over the past three months, Javert had been able to avoid such a thing all but twice.

Javert would have suspected that Madeleine was just being polite by persisting in inviting Javert despite the extremely low success rate (though he did have to ask how polite it could possibly be to keep pestering a man who clearly was not interested) if Madeleine hadn't managed to get his way a few times. It might be his imagination but he rather thought that those dinners were getting less awkward. He still did not understand why the invitations kept coming, however, as any debt Madeleine thought he had incurred when Javert had located Cosette must be paid back by now.

And it was absurd for Madeleine to speak of debts anyway when he only ever acknowledged debts that he believed that he had owed (debts which anyone else would not have recognized) and would not hear anything about debts owed to him.

Yes, his supposed debt to Fantine had ended with his taking possession of Cosette and that pleased Madeleine beyond reason but that made his one-sided debts no more rational. For Javert to not be able to try and pay the debt he owed over the Valjean matter – if he even could – but to be saddled with a 'debt' Madeleine owed because Javert had simply done his job was intolerable. Yet whenever he broached the subject of Madeleine's unequal approach to debts the man just smiled and changed the subject.

"Inspector Javert!" Cosette's voice rang out suddenly. He had encountered her more often since she had not come home after school and Madeleine had started his campaign to play host to Javert and yet she still persisted in calling him by his full title. He was pleased by this but it was a mouthful to say every time. Most would have shortened it to 'Inspector' by now.

"What are you doing here?" Javert asked, standing up. "Coming here instead of staying where you are supposed to do is not going to make your father worry any less."

Though it would save time when Madeleine arrived to request that they look for the girl. And, knowing him, there was a good chance that Madeleine would feel grateful to Javert for 'finding' her this time as well.

"Don't worry," Cosette told him. "Madame Martin let me come in and say hello." She gestured to the portress of her building which Javert only just now noticed had followed Cosette in.

"Hello, then."

Cosette laughed at this for some reason. "I also wanted to ask you a question," she said, lowering her voice.

Javert sat down again. "What is it?"

"Are you and Papa friends?" she asked innocently.

Whatever Javert had been expecting (and if he were honest then he really had no idea what he was really expecting, possibly something else worrying about how Cosette didn't like the law), that was not it. "What?"

"Papa is the mayor of the town," Cosette said reasonably, apparently understanding that he had not misheard her but needed an explanation for the question. "It's his job to talk to lots of people. And whenever we go out more people want to talk to him. He's very nice to them and gives them money if they need it. But you're the only one that ever comes to dinner."

"I've been to dinner three times," Javert protested.

"That's three times more than anyone else ever is," Cosette said. "I do not know what happened before I came. Maybe he doesn't invite people because now he has a daughter. But he does invite you all the time. You usually say no."

There might have been something to that, actually. Madeleine was very protective of Cosette and, as Cosette's "savior", Javert was someone he would trust around her. And yet…

Javert sighed. "I did not watch your father every second of the day before you arrived." Though he had kept a rather close eye on him in case this clear saint turned out to be a convict in disguise or something. "Still, I do not believe that he invited many people over." A memory came to him then. "In fact, there was once a time a few years back when the entire town realized that nobody had ever seen what your father's rooms looked like so this very brazen woman asked him if he would show them to her."

Cosette blinked in confusion. "Our rooms are not anything special."

"They had no way of knowing that until they saw them. And your father did let everybody who wanted to see them." Javert chuckled. "I believe they were rather disappointed with just how ordinary everything was. They were imaging all sorts of exciting things, you see. One rumor that caught my attention was that he was killing people and keeping their bodies in his room and that is why he never let anyone in there."

Cosette looked highly skeptical. "Killing people? My papa?"

"I don't think anybody really believed it," Javert conceded. Even he had not (for one thing, where were the reports of missing people? If he was targeting the people of the street why would they still be so friendly to him? And how would he disguise the smell) and he had suspected him to be a vile convict capable of anything. "But people will talk."

"They really should find something better to do," Cosette said, a strange look in her eyes. She swallowed hard. "But you did not answer my question. Are you and Papa friends?"

Javert was not sure what to say. "Did your father say that we are friends?"

Cosette gave a long-suffering sigh. "I tried to ask him but he was not able to answer me either. I just do not understand why this is so hard. You either are friends or you are not."

What had it meant that Madeleine had not said no? What had it meant that he had not said yes?

It was absurd for men of their positions to be friends but since when had Madeleine ever cared for such things? Javert's respect for the man had never been in doubt since the day he had been proven wrong about him being Valjean but he was not always sure that he liked him. And yet, who in his life would be closer to being a friend? It was not as though he had a great deal of experience in the matter. And what did it really matter what the answer was? He did not imagine that it would change anything.

"That is true," Javert agreed. "But, friends or not, perhaps it is not always so easy to tell if we are."

"I do not know if you spend a lot of time with other people outside of work or giving alms, Inspector Javert," Cosette told him seriously. "But my papa does not and yet he keeps trying to spend time with you. And sometimes you even say yes."

"He is my superior."

"If that was why you would always say yes," Cosette said shrewdly. "Well, here it is then! If you two won't decide then I will decide for you. You are friends."

Javert could have argued with her but what was the point? Her mind was made up and he always felt ridiculous arguing with a child.

"Very well," he said simply, secure in the knowledge that calling it one thing or another wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference.