Chapter Eighteen

Madame Monceaux's celebration had been a very trying affair for Valjean. She had looked far more pleased at his presence than he thought reasonable and his attendance had only started a renewal of the sorts of invitations he had gotten back when he had first become mayor and thus been considered good enough to be included in their plans.

It was so strange. None of these people knew or could ever know that once he had been a convict. He had tried to admit it once before but he was guiltily relieved that he had not been believed. That had been a strange sensation, certainly, knowing that he had come so far and changed so much that no one could associate his own past with him. No one but Javert, perhaps, and even he had changed his mind relatively easily. If Valjean had ever felt as strongly about something as Javert seemed to have felt about him being Valjean then he wouldn't have changed his mind just because someone told him he was wrong. To be fair to Javert, he had waited until he had seen the man that they claimed was actually Valjean and Champmathieu did look a great deal like he had once looked. But it was a strange and not altogether pleasant sensation to be so irrevocably far from who he had once been.

He had no desire to live as Jean Valjean, of course, not really but to no longer even have the option of confessing…

But that did not matter. Those fine upstanding members of society had been the sorts of people he had never even known existed, not properly, until he had arrived in Montreuil and begun to make good. They did not know much of his life but they knew that he was a simple laborer when he had arrived and thus beneath their notice. That they had seen him rise so high and so quickly (that they were probably some of the ones who had encouraged it for how else would he have received so much frankly alarming attention from the king himself without their encouragement?) and then welcomed him into their sphere was both puzzling and somewhat heartening.

He did not want to be one of them and, more than that, he could not afford to be but the only detail missing from their account of him was his past as a convict. It was a pretty big detail and should it ever get out, unlikely as it was now, it would ruin everything. But just who he was before his arrest, who his family no doubt were if they still lived, that they would have been accepted if they had just managed to get their hands on a little money…it was a hopeful thought. Money was difficult to come by but it was easier to do that than to change the situation you were born into.

These wealthy people who had been born with a bright future promised to them had looked at his prosperity and did not concern themselves with how common he truly was (if only that were true). He had turned down as many of the invitations he had been flooded with as he could but it had, perhaps, been a mistake to step down from his position of never attending social functions and now there would be more to attend.

Perhaps it would get easier in time. Fortunately, his old discovery that if he just smiled politely and looked interested they would do most of the talking for him continued to hold true. They seemed to delight in pulling words from him by asking questions but questions, at least, he could answer even if he had to lie or demur. Fortunately agreeing to take a step into society was not the same as offering up something about his past and so they appeared to have no more hope there than they ever had.

But Cosette had enjoyed herself immensely and that was really the important part and why he had let himself be talked into ever stepping foot into another society event ever again. He still did not think that Madame Monceaux had been correct in fearing that not attending society events would ruin Cosette's life but she had enjoyed playing with Adele and the other children she met that night. Cosette had suffered so much in the past and Fantine had suffered even more, some of which at Valjean's own hand, and so she deserved all of the happiness she could get. Valjean would be willing to suffer a great deal more than the awkwardness of a party in order to make her smile.

He hoped to make her smile today.

The night before, Cosette had almost self-consciously taken her shoes and put them by the fireplace. She seemed flustered that he was watching her and so he dutifully looked away. He was not sure what to think. She obviously knew the tradition of placing shoes by the fire at Christmas but what did that mean? He had not seen the Thénardiers inn for himself but he had Javert's highly critical report of the situation and the wretched condition that Cosette had been in when he had first seen her to give him a not very charitable opinion of those who were supposed to watch out for her. Had they been so greedy with the mother and neglectful with the daughter and still given her some form of a Christmas present? Or were the Thénardier daughters the ones who had received the presents and Cosette had not given up hope? That was painful to think about. Perhaps she had given up hope but now, in her new home with her new father, she dared to believe again?

Valjean was no stranger to giving Christmas presents. There had never been much money to give his own nieces and nephews anything, even before Henri had died, but for the past few years he had been breaking into the houses of some of the poorer families and playing the part of Père Noël for them. It was a nice reversal to be the thief that comes in the night to give rather than to take. He would say that did not make him a thief at all but the law would have him be a thief whenever he did anything.

He had not given a gift openly in quite some time.

He rose early, as was his custom, and sat by the fire waiting for Cosette to leave her room. There was no school today though it was a Thursday and the factory had been closed yesterday as well as today.

Finally, Cosette's door creaked open and she hesitantly stuck her head out. Valjean immediately pretended to be absorbed in the fire and oblivious to her presence and, after a moment, he heard her footsteps across the room. She made her way towards her shoes and let out a startled gasp of delight.

"Papa! Papa!" she cried out.

Valjean turned back towards her. "Yes, Cosette?"

Cosette picked up her shoes and ran over to him, practically shoving them in his face. "He came! Père Noël came!"

Valjean smiled gently at her. "Of course he came. It is Christmas, is it not?"

Cosette turned her smiling face down to her shoes which were full of treats. "I always used to hope that he would. He came for Zelma and Ponine every year but not for me. They always used to say it was because I was bad."

"That wasn't it," Valjean said, fiercer than he intended.

Cosette turned startled eyes towards him. "Then why didn't he come?"

What could he say? He had put the presents in Cosette's shoes this year and the Thénardiers had not bothered to in years past but he could hardly break a child's faith in Père Noël like that! Especially not this child's faith.

"Perhaps he did not know where you were," Valjean suggested lamely. "You were staying at an inn with people who were not your family."

Cosette seemed to accept this explanation, however, and smiled brighter. "Can I see what's inside?"

"Of course you may," Valjean told her. "Then we will have breakfast and you can decide what else you would like to do with the day."

Cosette sat down right there on the floor and stuck her hand almost tentatively in one of her shoes. There was chocolate and a few coins as well as a doll made out of straw and coconut. There was a new dress for her favorite doll, Catherine, and a silk hair ribbon.

"This is all so wonderful!" Cosette exclaimed happily. "This is the best Christmas I've ever had."

Valjean chuckled. "I am glad that Père Noël did not disappoint."

Cosette set her presents down and looked seriously up at him. "I like all of this but even if I did not get anything it would still be the best Christmas ever because I am here with you and not there with them."

Given the state that she had been in before, it was perhaps not a ringing endorsement to be better than that but it touched Valjean anyway. He held out his arms and Cosette practically flew into them. She kissed him on the cheek before she pulled back.

"After breakfast do you think that we can…" she faltered.

"Yes, please go on," Valjean said encouragingly.

Cosette took a deep breath and seemed to gather her courage. "Do you think we could go and visit my mother's grave?"

Valjean drew back quickly and, on seeing the alarm on Cosette's face, quickly smiled at her in reassurance. To think that she would be afraid to ask to visit her own mother's grave! It was true that they had not really been to see Fantine's grave since shortly after her burial but she had not asked and he had not wanted to force her. He did not know a great deal about proper mourning traditions. There had never been much time for such sentimentality when he was younger and struggling with the world to survive. It was one of those things that had just slipped away but clearly Cosette had not wanted it to.

"Of course we can," he promised her. "Any time you want to go see your mother, tell me and we will go."

Cosette's answering smile may have been a bit watery but it was a happy one.

"Look!" Cosette said as they neared the cemetery, pointing to a figure in front of them. "It is Inspector Javert! Hello, Inspector Javert!"

Javert turned at the sound of her voice and obligingly walked over to them. "Cosette, Monsieur Madeleine."

"Are you out on patrol, Javert?" Valjean asked politely.

Javert nodded. "Of course."

"But it's Christmas," Cosette said, uncomprehendingly.

"If the police took that attitude and all stayed home celebrating then think of all the havoc the criminal classes would wreak and all of those broken laws with no one to defend them," Javert told her.

"I think the criminals would want to be home with their families as well," Cosette said with certainty. "I think that Christmas may be my favorite day."

"Children often do," Javert said shortly.

"Sometimes criminals don't have families, Cosette, especially if they have been to prison for a long time and their family moved away," Valjean informed her. "And sometimes Christmas makes people even more desperate to steal something so that their family might have a happier Christmas and not starve or freeze like they must the rest of the winter."

Javert adopted that same look he always did whenever Valjean dared to say anything implying crime was committed for any reason besides bad morals and a disregard for society. "There does tend to be more crime committed in the winter months," he conceded grudgingly.

Valjean nodded. "Of course. The winter is hard and work scarcer even in good times let alone when there is a famine."

"And so you can see why, even if your father were correct, I must patrol the streets to stop people from stealing or getting into fights or killing each other," Javert said, turning back to Cosette.

"Are you the only one patrolling today?" Cosette asked.

"I am."

"Then you let everyone else go home and celebrate with their families while you made sure people didn't do bad things," Cosette said.

"That is…one way to look at it," Javert said stiffly.

Cosette smiled at him. "That was really nice of you, Inspector Javert."

Javert looked put-out. "People focus better when they are not sulking about missing Christmas and I do not need distracted patrolmen. I might as well not have any patrolmen at all if they aren't going to pay attention."

But Cosette kept smiling at him like she knew a secret and Javert quickly excused himself.

"Why does he always pretend he's not nice?" Cosette wondered as they resumed their walk. She paused and corrected herself. "I mean, he's not nice all the time. But sometimes he is like this and he hides it."

Valjean was capable of thinking many positive things about the man who had once just been another hated guard to him and it never ceased to amaze him and reassure him that he had really and truly changed. Kindness was not something he generally associated with Javert, however, and his 'it is easy to be kind' speech rang in his ears.

"The law, as you know, is often not kind and Javert places a huge value on following and enforcing the law," Valjean said slowly. "If someone is starving and steals a loaf of bread to eat then it would be kind to let him have it if you really don't need it but it would be against the law. He does not want to be seen as kind, I think, because then he is worried people will try and take advantage. He does not want to be kind and often isn't but it would be very difficult indeed to never be kind, even if that kindness is also the practical or lawful thing to do like here."

Cosette nodded. "That's really sad."

"It is," Valjean agreed. "But it is what he wants and you cannot force somebody into appreciating the good things in life."

"I hope that he gets better," Cosette said sincerely, as though Javert disliking kindness was some sort of illness to recover from. And who knew? Perhaps it was.

Cosette grabbed his hand when they reached the cemetery and made their way to Fantine's grave. Cosette looked all around her as if she had never seen any of this before.

Valjean was not overly fond of cemeteries himself. They were very still and peaceful but they reminded him of those who had died and driven him closer to death himself and those who even now might be dead and how their deaths might be his fault. He would never see their graves, if they even had graves. One day, when he felt it was safer years and years in the future, he might return to Faverolles and see the graves that were there. They were nothing expensive or particularly noticeable but they would still be there unchanging when everything else had passed him by.

Those were depressing thoughts but this was a cemetery. He shook them off as best he could and turned his attention back towards his daughter.

Cosette had kneeled down in front of the grave and wiped the snow off of it. She looked up at him. "I don't know what you do at graves. Am I supposed to talk?"

"You can talk if you'd like to."

Cosette nodded. "Hello, Mama. It's Christmas. I got a lot of presents and it was really wonderful. Père Noël came for me this year. It was snowing and I like the snow. I played outside. Mathieu threw a snowball at me and made me cry but he said he was sorry and was just trying to play a game. Then we all threw snowballs at each other and I got hit again but it was fine and I didn't get sad again. I miss you, Mama. We never got to have a Christmas together except maybe when I was a baby. I wish you didn't die."

Valjean knelt down beside her and put his arm around her.

She leaned into him. "Papa, can you cover your ears?"

Puzzled, Valjean did as she requested.

When she was satisfied that his ears were covered, though he could still hear perfectly fine, she whispered, "I wish you didn't die, Mama. I miss you. But if you did then I'm happy you found such a wonderful papa for me. He's the best papa in the world and I love him so much and I love you so much and I dreamed that the three of us could just be happy forever. Papa and I will be happy here and you be happy in heaven, alright? We'll come see you one day but not for a very, very long time."

With that, she tugged on his sleeves and Valjean removed his hands from his ears. "Yes?"

"I'm done now," she told him seriously. "Do you have anything you want to say to Mama?"

Valjean considered. He had had many weeks in which to say everything he might have had to say to Fantine to her face. The guilt lingered but he could hardly apologize to Fantine for his part in destroying her in front of her daughter. Still, Cosette was looking expectantly at him.

"Fantine," he said quietly. "I hope that you have found peace in the embrace of our Lord. I made a vow to you to do everything I could to raise your child to the light and I am doing my best to fulfill that vow. She makes it so easy since she is such a wonderful and loving child. You have a very special daughter and I will do what I can to give her the life you dreamed she would have."

He lapsed into silence then and, despite the cold and the snow, they knelt there at Fantine's grave for quite some time.