A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers and readers! I take every review to heart and each one helps me write better and better, no lie.
A/N 2: Updates will probably be once a week in the future, but occasionally I will be able to upload more than one chapter in that span. I also have a question, but I will put that at the bottom of this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables or any of its characters, nor am I Victor Hugo. All I own is several copies of Les Miserables of various editions, and the arrangement of the words upon this page.
"So, where are we goin', 'Spector?" Gavroche asked, finally catching up to Inspector Javert's long strides.
"We must do a bit of scouting before we can storm the Gorbeau house," Javert murmured down to him. He pushed past a group of street children huddled around a little stove in the road. Some people, usually those of the church, would call these children innocent, even though terrors beyond their imagination had befallen them. Conversely, Javert could not bring himself to agree with this statement of opinion. They had seen too much, lived through too much, to remain innocent to the horrors of the uncaring world. At least a fire, however feeble, was available to these misfortunate remains of crimes, evidence and victims that the police force never recorded.
"Like the Bastille?" Gavroche asked, a spring in his step. He did not look at the wretched children as he brushed by them after Javert. It was not ignorance, but neither was it an act of arrogance.
"I suppose," Javert said, agreeing. "I know the way, so please, follow close behind me." He hurried away further, Gavroche jogging to keep up. Finally, they fell in step with each other again, Gavroche wheezing from exhaust.
"Yer a fast one," Gavroche mumbled.
"I thought you would be faster than me, seeing as you have lived on the streets," Javert retorted, crossing the street quickly.
"Ya seem like ya know the streets," Gavroche said, tilting his head up to meet Javert's eyes. "Almos' better than me, ya do."
"It comes, Gavroche, with being a police inspector. One of the prerequisites is to know Paris and all of her roads and alleys. Myself, I took it a bit farther, and as such, know every bit of the city." Javert crossed his arms across his chest.
"Yeah, but…seems like somethin' more than that, if ya don't mind," Gavroche said. He was now skipping beside Javert, his face alight with a smile.
"Well, it is not. We really must hurry," Javert persisted. "Please do keep up!"
Of course, at that moment, the skies had the providence to open up and drop the tears of angels upon the people of Paris. The rain beat hard against the wooden and tin roofs, and aristocrats, bourgeois, and gamins alike all ran for cover. Gavroche and Inspector Javert both dashed under the eave of a roof, to escape the rain for at least a moment. The tintinnabulation of the wet droplets all around them, on the ground and against the roof, rose up to their ears and made it nearly impossible for them to hear each other.
"We have to get going," Javert nearly shouted, trying to make himself heard to Gavroche above the rising clatter of raindrops. "Even through the rain. We can wait a moment, but no more."
"I've got no coat or nothin'," Gavroche protested, huddling under the eave. "An' it's cold too!" He crossed his arms together. "I'll get sick, an' then what?"
"Gavroche, we have to stop the Thénardiers!" Javert said. "Five minutes, but that is all we can waste." He pulled out his watch to check the time. Luckily, it was only three o'clock. They still had time before they had to get back to the station.
Gavroche nodded, and then he pressed himself closer against the wall of the building they were leaned up against. "It's very cold, 'Spector," he muttered under his breath. "I usually go home 'bout now, when i' rains an' all."
"Home? Where is that? I thought the Thénardiers turned you out onto the streets," Javert said, a pensive look upon his face. Best to keep the boy talking, and therefore his mind off the state of the world around him and the effects it could have upon himself and his well-being.
"No' tellin' ya," Gavroche said, sticking his nose up into the air in some fierce imitation of aristocracy. "You're a nark; you'd just turn me ou' of there, too, like my father did t'me."
"If that is what you think, then so be it," Javert said. "I would not remove you from your home's premises, unless of course it was a hazard to you or someone else, you know." He straightened his hat, almost in a nervous gesture. Well, it would have been a nervous gesture had anyone but Javert made it. If Javert was nervous, he would never show it in such a simplistic way.
"Well, I'm still no' tellin' ya!" Gavroche said.
"The five minutes is almost up, Gavroche," Javert lied. Really, only about two minutes had past. However, they truly had to get to the Gorbeau tenement quickly. The faster they got there, the faster they could have a look around, and the faster they could return back to the station to brief the officers.
"Well, then I guess we've gotta go," Gavroche murmured dejectedly. "Bu' I'm only doin' this 'cause it'll mean father can ge' what 'e deserves for once."
"That is a good reason to obey the law, but one should obey it regardless," Javert said as way of reply, glancing out to the street.
"Sometimes, 'Spector, to save the ones ya love, you've gotta break the law," Gavroche said. Javert started and turned to gaze upon Gavroche. Such a proclamation from such a short-lived soul! It was as if Gavroche had known the very thing on Javert's mind, right at that moment. Even he knew that within black and white ideals, there had to be some grey. Without grey, there could be no peace between the dark and light.
The two stepped out together into the stormy afternoon.
A/N 3: I have formed a timeline of sorts for my upcoming series of fanfictions, this one being part of it. Would you think it appropriate for me to upload the timeline to my profile, to make reading my upcoming series easier? I will have a poll on my profile; please vote in it or post a review with your response.