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XXII: Shock

Back at her home, Aimée hardly slept. Javert had left her to go to the jail and pack for a couple nights in Paris, to check the border and checkpoints of the city. Before Aimée knew it, the sun was creeping in her window.

And with dawn came conflict.

"What do you mean you've been fired?" Aimée asked, standing in the kitchen as she watched her father, all red-faced and yellowed eyes.

"Madeleine's left, who's to run the factory? We're all fired!" he screamed at his daughter, wondering how on earth the girl could be that dense.

"Well, you're in charge of his money, aren't you? Couldn't you just take over the factory?"

"I'm a man of finance, not management."

"Then hire someone."

"There's too much paperwork…unless…." Gérard burst up from his chair in the dining room. He hurried to the coatrack and pulled the overcoat over his shoulders. "I'm going back to Toulon. Beaudet, he'll know someone. If anything else, the old man can buy the factory and it'll just operate. Why didn't I think of this before?"

Aimée watched in surprise as her father disappeared before her very eyes, off to find a carriage. She stood in the home, by herself. Who knew when Gérard would be back? Thomas had gone home, the butler had refused to work on Sundays, and the house creaked emptily, almost like a growling stomach.

Shaking her head free of her father's sudden abandonment, Aimée went to the library. She undid the braid and her hair cascaded downwards in lazy waves, gently curling around her face and gliding over her shoulders. She picked up a book and tried to read, but her mind whirled too much to comprehend the words. Aimée's forehead still prickled with the warmth of Javert's lips and the scratch of his beard. When she closed her eyes, she could feel the rough heat of his hands cradling her jaw and the scent of shoe polish and wood smoke filled her nostrils, even in the pampered halls of her house. Javert's words rumbled in her ears and shook her heart.

There was a tentative knock on the door and she nearly jumped out of her seat. Pulling a shawl over her shoulders, Aimée hurried to the door. Javert stood in the doorway, square-shouldered and neat, his hat perched atop his head and his buttons polished.

"Uh, come in," she said, momentarily surprised by seeing him at her home. Regardless, she smiled at him and Javert swallowed.

"I'm sorry I came unannounced," he said hurriedly, stepping inside as Aimée shut the door behind him. "I found your address in the files."

"Oh, well, here. We can go in the library," Aimée said as Javert removed his hat and held it beneath his arm. "Can I get you anything to drink? Father's out and our butler doesn't work Sundays."

Javert felt his mouth dry as he realized he was alone with Aimée. He began to worry that this would be inappropriate. He sat down in the chair a little stiffly as he denied Aimée's offer. He looked around, surprised to see the woman lived in such wealth. The factory had indeed been kind to the Lamenté's, giving them a home far too big for them and a full pantry.

The morning was still early and the streets outside were quiet. Aimée found herself liking the way Javert looked sitting on a chair in her home.

"I'm leaving in an hour," Javert announced formally, swiping the small smile off Aimée's face. Javert noticed her frown and he quickly spoke again. "I will be back tomorrow night or the morning after that."

"Back here?"

"Yes."

"Good…"

Javert barely heard the word escape Aimée's lips. He felt warm.

Aimée sat on the sofa across from him, looking at her hands as she fiddled with her thumbs and bit her lip. Javert's eyebrows furrowed as he watched her, entranced by her habits. Finally, she looked up at him with her blue eyes and he found himself blinking.

Motioning with her hand, she said, "You can sit by me, if you want."

With a feeling of falling, Javert got up and neared her. He stood for a moment, watching her once more, before he settled on the other end of the sofa, a safe distance away from her. Aimée swiveled where she sat, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her back on the armrest. Her small toes sat inches away from Javert's leg.

"I can't help but feel scared, Javert."

He lowered his head. "I know."

She was silent for a moment. It was her turn to watch him. She noticed how tight his jaw was, how dark the bags under his eyes were. Aimée grew concerned.

"Javert," she said, folding her legs under her and leaning forward, placing a hand on the side of his face and turning it so he looked at her. "Have you been sleeping?"

He cocked his head to the side and closed his eyes in a long, slow blink. "I have not slept since I met you at the jail, mademoiselle," he said, his voice thick.

"Javert, that was two days ago!" she exclaimed.

"Yes."

She thought for a moment, "You need to at least have a nap before you leave."

"I'll sleep in the carriage."

"No, you're leaving for Paris, I want to make sure you have at least a little rest. I didn't sleep much either, not after last night," the woman admitted, biting her lip as she drew her hand away from his face.

Javert's gaze turned curious.

Then, without warning, Aimée scooted closer to him and lifted his arm. She then leaned into his side, resting her head against his collar, her forehead nestled underneath his chin. Aimée felt him stiffen immediately, turned to stone.

"It's ok," she said.

Javert forced himself to relax against the back of the sofa, and he looked down at her, wondering if she felt the thumping of his heart. His arm draped itself across Aimée's shoulders, almost as if the action was instinct. The cushions behind him were comfortable and Aimée's body was warm as it pressed itself against him. The muscles in his back and neck gradually loosened, as if they were melting away. Leaning his head back against the cushion, Javert closed his eyes and allowed his breathing to slow.

Aimée's own eyes were closed as she felt him slowly start to relax around her. She felt happy, thinking that she was comforting him and allowing him to rest. She would shyly admit that she enjoyed the close contact probably more than he did, but she pushed the thought out of her head. His breathing slowed and she could hear the steady, rhythmic thump beneath his uniform. Assuming he was now asleep, Aimée slowly brought up a hand and fiddled with one of his buttons.

"What are you doing?" he asked, not lifting his head or opening his eyes. Aimée jumped slightly from his voice and sat up, leaning away.

"Nothing, I was just…sorry," she quickly muttered, feeling a blush start to creep up her neck. Why was she acting so foolish?

He grunted from where he sat and Aimée felt the arm that was relaxed against her shoulder tighten, pulling her to him again. She nestled back into Javert's side and sat quietly until she started to hear him snore. The fabric of his coat was a little coarse as it pressed against her face and she could feel his chest rise with every deep breath. Aimée's eyes flitted closed and she sighed deeply, letting the man's smell fill her senses, much sharper than her memories.

Soon, they were both asleep.

When Javert woke, late morning light was shining into the library. Looking at the clock on the mantle he realized that his carriage would be leaving in twenty minutes. He groaned and craned his neck backwards as he stretched his arms. Javert looked down at the woman that was curled into him. Her hair was splayed down her back, cascading downwards in gold waves. Her breath was heavy with sleep. She looked so young and small, like a little girl. He couldn't help but smile and he ran his hand over her hair, looking over the library. He began to worry as he thought about leaving her again. It was only for a day, maybe two…he'd return.

What if you get relocated? You can't leave her again…. What does it matter? I'm not her suitor, just her friend. She's far too young, nearly twenty years my junior. His thoughts roared in his head and he couldn't take it anymore. Javert gently shook her awake, almost afraid to move her.

After a stretch of dreamless dozing, Aimée felt her pillow move under her. She groaned a little, fussing like a child, and buried her face deep in the fabric. It felt firmer than she remembered.

"Aimée," her bed rumbled beneath her, "I must go."

Her brow furrowed as she wondered why it was speaking to her. Then, as her grogginess slowly started to wean away, she realized where she had been sleeping.

Aimée bolted upwards, looking at Javert. For once, the man was smiling, a rare and beautiful sight to see. The grin reached upwards and touched his eyes, making them crinkle and spark like pale emeralds. He looked so full of life, not like the stern, stiff officer she was used to. Aimée's breath momentarily left her as she studied him.

"You look different," she whispered, not really knowing that the words were leaving her.

Javert swallowed and looked at her, all stormy eyes, rosy cheeks, and golden hair. He wanted to touch her face, cradle it in his hands, feel the soft skin of her cheek kissing his thumb. Her hair was like silk, his fingers would glide right through it if Javert could muster up enough courage to reach forward.

Aimée watched the smile fall from Javert's face. The crease between his eyebrows returned and she felt confused. She moved her knees up to the couch, tucking them underneath her as she sat. Cocking her head to the side, she spoke to him.

"What's wrong?" Then, like an oncoming storm, worry started to thrive. "You are coming back, right? Right?"

The woman was beautiful in her worry, blustery eyes wide and mouth slightly open in anticipation, waiting to speak after his words. Javert didn't speak. Instead, he reached out and graced his thumb over Aimée's cheekbone. The skin there was as soft as a rose petal. He found himself leaning forward, studying her closely. If he were to be relocated, he would never forgive himself if her face left his memory.

"Javert?" Aimée asked, really starting to worry because of his quietness. It swarmed inside her, whispering horrible things in her ears and making her heart skip. She felt his fingers reach to the back of her head and thread through her hair. Her eyes couldn't help but flutter closed as she felt how cautious his touch was, gentle and kind. Javert pulled her to him, meeting her forehead with his.

"Aimée, I will return in two days…but I'm afraid after that I don't know. If Valjean enters the city…I will stay there. I can't let him get away." Her sharp inhale of breath shot through him. All he could do was breathe in her lilac and vanilla before he spoke again. "But…whatever I do, I will tell you. I could never hurt you again."

Confession tore at his throat like a choking smoke, and the fear of rejection burned behind his closed eyes.

Javert felt her sigh, felt the softness of her forehead pressed to his. They were so close, sharing the air between them.

Aimée felt numb, a warm numb that froze her to the spot as her mind reeled. He had broken promises to her before, but now…she knew they were true. His voice sounded like a low grumble, wrought with truth and emotion. This new Javert was starting to show more and more when the two were together.

The next move was so daring, it surprised even her.

She closed the distance between them and brushed her lips against his. After a moment or two, she pulled away a fraction of an inch, ignoring the way Javert had stiffened. She met his eyes and they questioned her, the crease returning and his lips in a confused frown. Biting her lip, the blush that crept up her neck was ferocious.

"I-I really shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. You should probably-"

But her words were cut off abruptly by two strong hands holding her face and tipping it upwards. Javert's lips crashed over hers and she felt a fire course through them, so intense her eyes widened before she felt them flutter shut. Heat flared in her belly and she felt her cheeks flush. Javert's beard scratched at her face and she felt his thumb glide over her skin, sending chills down her neck. Aimée's eyes closed as their lips moved together, her hand coming up and resting at the side of his face, his short sideburn bristling against her palm. Power coursed through him, she could feel it, yet Javert was gentle with his kiss, almost begging her to understand something he couldn't say.

He broke away far too soon, his breath heavy, and he quickly stood up, stiff and rigid in his surprise. Aimée watched him from her seat on the couch, too shocked to even move. Javert's head was spinning far too fast for his comfort and he looked around, trying to find something to say or do.

"Aimée, I..." his words were lost. His mouth still burned from Aimée's lips and he could feel the shadow of the kiss as he stood. The heart in his chest was pounding so strongly against his ribs, thumping like a drum. Javert looked at her, looked at her wide eyes and soft petal skin. The young woman was as still as stone on the couch, staring back at him with an emotion that he couldn't place.

The shock of the moment suddenly lifted and Javert assessed the situation. He had kissed her. Not a gentle goodbye peck, but a searing kiss that stole the breath from his very lungs. Her lips had felt like heaven and he had drowned in lilac and vanilla.

Averting his eyes to the floor, he gave her a curt bow and quickly left the house, hurrying and disappearing through the morning crowd. The people swarmed around him, oblivious to what he had just done. The mask that covered his face was flawless, harsh and cold as his mind reeled. Fists clenched at his sides and he blinked, his knees feeling weak as he walked.

The carriage was already waiting for him in front of the jailhouse. Holding a hand up to the coachman, Javert quickly retrieved a bag with a spare set of clothes from his office. The door opened with a quiet click. Tossing the bag in he tapped the wood of the carriage and the tall wheels started to roll as he settled on the cushioned bench. Javert's head pounded and he leaned forward, his head bowed and hands pressed against his temples. He couldn't stop himself from cautiously tasting his lips and the ghost of Aimée drifted into his mouth.

She's going to hate you again, he told himself. She's so much younger than you. So young.

Some glimmer of an argument rose up in the back of his mind as the carriage swayed down the road. It grew like a small flame, catching tinder and glowing in the darkness. His eyes closed and the crease formed between his brows. With a lightness Javert was unused to, the words rang in his head.

She kissed you back.

Her fingers were cool against her lips as she pressed them to her mouth. What had just happened? Was this a dream?

Javert had kissed her, gently but with a sense of urgency and longing that shivered up her spine when she thought of it. Aimée closed her eyes as she sat, trying desperately to relive every moment before he had broken away. Javert had left so abruptly…she had no time to speak. Words probably wouldn't have left her anyway, the kiss had left her mind blank, a sheering white pane that gradually lifted once Javert left.

Still thinking about the tickling scratch of his beard against her face, Aimée stood and made her way to the kitchen. Methodically, she began to make tea. Her hands shook slightly as she lifted the kettle. Standing in the kitchen, she stared at nothingness and tried to sort out what had just happened as she waited for the water to boil. When the kettle squealed, she jumped and hurried to remove it from the heat.

Once her tea was made, she knelt below and recovered a small flask from a hidden shelf. Filled with the brandy that had become her favorite, along with Anna's, she placed a healthy dose inside her teacup and stirred. The searing heat that wormed its way down her mouth and throat when she drank did not remove the feel of his kiss from her lips.

Stormy blue eyes closed as she sipped again in the quiet kitchen. The morning had grown late and warm sunlight shined in. Javert's hands had been so strong when he lifted her face. Aimée smiled against the rim of her cup. Her heart was aflutter and she almost laughed, biting her lip. Happiness budded inside of her, coursed through her veins like liquid gold.