14
Title: "Rescue"
Author: Darkover
Rating: T
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Summary: See Chapter One.
Author's Note: "Cathay" is an old term for the country of China.
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Chapter Three: "You Know Nothing of Javert"
Once Javert had fallen into the laudanum-induced sleep, Valjean left the house to walk to the police station. Earlier that day, he had given one of the gamin a coin to go inform the Prefect of Police that Inspector Javert would not be in to work today, but upon reflection, Valjean decided that a street urchin might not have been willing to come into such close contact with the police, especially with the Police Prefect. So Valjean decided to go see the man, M. Gisquet, himself, in order to make sure a proper excuse had been made for Javert's absence.
Valjean himself felt a faint shiver of apprehension as he darkened the door of the police headquarters; he had spent almost his entire adult life either running from the authorities or hoping to conceal himself from them, after all. But of course, no one save Javert was likely to be aware that M. Fauchelevent and Jean Valjean, formerly 24601, the man who broke his parole, were one and the same person—and the Inspector clearly was no longer desirous of arresting him. So, Valjean told the gendarmeout in front his business, sent in his card, and to his private astonishment, within minutes he was ushered through directly to M. Gisquet's office.
Valjean was even more surprised when the Prefect rose, bowed quickly, and shook his hand enthusiastically as he entered. "Greetings, M. Fauchelevent! Please sit down—I shall ring for coffee."
"That is not necessary," Valjean assured Gisquet, taking the chair that was offered. "I wish only to make certain that you knew that Inspector Javert, having received injuries in the line of duty in the recent uprising, is incapable of reporting to work for at least a few days. I sent such a message earlier today, but wished to be sure that it reached its destination. I would not have the Inspector penalized because of a misunderstanding."
M. Gisquet was nodding as he resumed his own seat. "The message arrived, Monsieur, but I am pleased to see you anyway. I seriously doubt if I should penalize the Inspector under any circumstances, for he is the best man I have, and the finest policeman I have ever known!"
"Ah, yes?" Valjean managed.
Gisquet smiled broadly and spoke enthusiastically. "I wish I had a dozen more like him, Monsieur! He is intelligent and dedicated, honest and incorruptible, determined and courageous. He never stops in the pursuit of justice, and I know of no man on earth who believes more firmly in the rule of law. Javert is not easily intimidated, and will arrest any man, high or low, if he believes that man to be guilty. I believe he would even arrest the King himself, if His Majesty had committed a crime!" Gisquet laughed, and Valjean smiled weakly. The Prefect added hurriedly, "Perhaps I should not make such a remark, Monsieur, in light of recent events, but I tell you most sincerely that I have never seen a man more dedicated to the pursuit of justice as Inspector Javert. He believes the law is the only protection any of us have, and without the law, there is chaos and destruction."
"That sounds like the Inspector," Valjean murmured.
"May I ask, Monsieur, how you and Inspector Javert know each other?"
"We have known each other since we first met many years ago," Valjean said, "but we lost contact, and only recently renewed our acquaintance." Inwardly, he reflected on the literal truth of that statement.
Fortunately, the Police Prefect seemed satisfied by that brief explanation. "I am glad to hear it, Monsieur. I am most pleased to learn that the Inspector has a friend. Particularly one he trusts sufficiently to stay with as a guest while he recovers from his injuries. I confess that I was quite startled to receive such a message this morning, as so far as I was aware, Javert had no close friends or intimates of any kind. If the man has a fault, it is that he keeps too much to himself. As I am sure you know if you have been a friend of his for very long, the Inspector hates to have things out of his control, and he has great difficulty trusting others. Even more than a policeman usually does," Gisquet added with good humor. "His background, I suppose."
"I do not understand."
Gisquet looked at him as if trying to decide whether or not to speak, and seemed to choose his next words with great care. "You know the circumstances of Javert's birth?"
"That he was born inside a jail?" Valjean asked, recalling the Inspector's angry words to him on the night of their confrontation at the hospital.
Gisquet nodded, seemingly a bit relieved that Valjean already knew this fact. "Yes. His mother was a gypsy fortuneteller, imprisoned for soothsaying. His father also was a criminal—a convict, a galley slave, I believe. Neither of them fit to raise a child, I fear."
Seeing the look of astonishment on Valjean's face, Gisquet seemed disquieted. "Pardon, Monsieur, I fear I have said too much. I would not have violated the Inspector's privacy, but I assumed from your remark that you were already privy to this information."
"I did not know the details. But it explains so much."
"It does, does it not?" The Prefect seemed a bit relieved that he had not gone too far. "Born and nursed in a prison cell, with two jailbirds for parents, neither of whom wanted him, or ever cared for him properly; spending his childhood, such as it was, in that prison, and being half-gypsy in the bargain—talk about being born in the gutter, Monsieur! And yet, Javert has lifted himself up, on the basis of clean living, determination, and merit alone. How many other men can say the same?"
"Not many," Valjean admitted.
"I tell you all this, Monsieur, because you are his friend, and as such, you should have some understanding of why the Inspector is—shall we say—as self-disciplined as he is." Gisquet hesitated, and then seemed to decide to finish his assessment of his most valued employee. "If the Inspector seems rigid, with an all-or-nothing approach to the law and to life, I know it is because of his great respect for the law. But I also suspect it is because at some level, he is still seeking to prove himself—and perhaps even to expunge the half-gypsy, convict-produced parts of himself."
"I see," Valjean said, and was afraid that he did. He stood up. "Thank you, M. le Prefect. I must not take up any more of your time."
The Police Prefect rose from his seat to exchange bows with Valjean. "Twice now, at my wife's suggestion, I have asked Inspector Javert to dinner at our home. But he always declines, I suspect because he believes that a subordinate should not socialize with a superior." Gisquet shook his head. "At least he has a friend in you, Monsieur."
Valjean thanked the Prefect for the latter's time and then took a long walk to allow himself to think, before continuing his journey back to his home. He was in a most thoughtful mood.
For most of my life, I did not see Javert as a man, as a human being, but rather as an unstoppable force, a living personification of the law. A creature without heart or soul. But all that has changed since the night I saw Javert on his knees in that tavern, bleeding, a noose around his neck. I admit I felt a certain unchristian satisfaction at seeing my old adversary brought low, but even then, I knew it would be wrong to kill him. And now, the Prefect not only tells me how much he admires the man's character, he tells me that the Inspector was the unwanted child of a gypsy soothsayer for a mother and a convict father. So, who am I to judge this man? For such a long time, I hated the world and everyone in it, because I felt it had not treated me fairly. How fairly has it ever treated Javert? If he has no charity for others, why should he? Who has ever shown charity to him? I doubt if he was ever so fortunate as to encounter anyone like Bishop Myriel. And being a policeman for so many years has shown him only the worst Mankind has to offer, and on a regular basis. Does Javert know how to love? If he does not, again, who would have taught him, how should he have learned it? I would not have learned to love, had Cosette not entered my life….
Valjean realized that saving the Inspector's life was going to be more complicated than just pulling the man from the parapet of a bridge.
Toussaint greeted him with a smile as he entered the house, and handed Valjean a rosary, telling him that she had found it in the Inspector's pockets, along with a wallet containing an identification card, a single franc, and a few sous. Valjean absently took the wallet and its contents from his servant, assuring her he would return them to their owner. But when he accepted the rosary from her, he held it in the palm of his hand for a long moment, just staring down at it. He felt certain it was the same rosary he had so casually bestowed upon the Inspector years ago, when Javert had first appeared at "Madeleine's" factory. Plainly the Inspector had not only kept it, but he had continued to carry the rosary all this time. Valjean did not know what to make of that, but he had the strange feeling there was something significant about the fact. Carefully, he put the items in his own pocket for safekeeping.
Toussaint had finished hanging up his hat and coat, and she was telling him Monsieur le Inspecteur was awake now, and seated in the parlor with Mademoiselle Cosette, who had recently returned. At this statement, Valjean looked at Toussaint sharply, his heart began to pound more quickly, and he hastened to the closed doors of the parlor, fearful of how his old adversary might behave toward the young girl.
He need not have worried. Javert, now fully dressed, was seated in a chair across from Cosette, who was reading aloud to their guest. She looked up from her book and smiled at her foster-father as he entered. "Papa! Where have you been? The Inspector and I have been enjoying poetry." She glanced back at their guest, favoring him with a smile as well, and to Valjean's astonishment, Javert gave her a smile in return. Not only did it make the man appear years younger, but it was like watching an Inquisitor being entertained by a kitten.
The girl did not wait for an answer. "Papa, may I go visit Marius tomorrow? I do enjoy reading to the Inspector—" Here, she gave Javert that sweet smile again—"but I should like to do what I can to further Marius' recovery."
Valjean hesitated. "I don't know, Cosette. It may be too soon…"
"Please, Papa!" she begged.
Javert said nothing, but he was watching them both closely.
"We will discuss it tomorrow," Valjean hedged. "Now, it must be almost time for luncheon. Inspector, you will join us, of course." The last sentence was politely phrased, but the tone indicated it was not a request. Valjean did not believe it was good for Javert to be on his own just yet.
Javert looked at him, expression unreadable. "No. I should…"
Cosette, looking from one man to the other, was perceptive enough to pick up on the undercurrent of emotions, even if she did not completely understand the cause of those feelings or what they were. With gentle kindness, she leaned over and placed one delicate hand lightly on Javert's arm. "Please do join us, Inspector. Papa and I so seldom have guests, and we would enjoy your company."
Javert stared down at her hand on his arm for a moment as if he had no idea why it was there, but then he raised his eyes to gaze on her smiling face. Again he smiled, although in such a way that it seemed he was not used to doing so, and nodded slightly. "Thank you, Mademoiselle. I accept." If Cosette noticed that the last two words seemed a trifle forced, she did not let on.
As Javert rose to his feet, he even offered the girl his arm to escort her into the dining room, an action which made Valjean blink in surprise. He would never have believed the Inspector capable of such a polite, even courtly gesture. Not that Javert, now back in uniform, did not look impressive; Toussaint had done well in cleaning it. She had brushed it beautifully, and shined the shoes brilliantly; the Inspector's collar was a new one, his shirt was freshly laundered, and even the epaulettes were neatly brushed and arranged on his shoulders. Nevertheless, Valjean was left with the impression that something was not quite complete about the uniform.
Aloud, almost without conscious thought, he asked, "Inspector, where is your medal?" Javert turned his gaze in Valjean's direction, and the latter touched his own left breast to indicate what he meant; the medal that once had rested over Javert's heart was no longer there.
"I gave it to someone more worthy," Javert replied, somewhat cryptically, and then he turned his attention back to Cosette, who was indicating the direction of the dining room. Valjean followed, in a more pensive mood than ever.
Once seated at the table, the two men gazed at each other, although at first neither said a word. Cosette glanced from one to the other, and then said; "I believe you will enjoy the soup, Inspector. Our Toussaint is an excellent cook." The servant, in the act of presenting the first course, beamed at this praise.
"I am sure," Javert said quietly, again with a tentative smile at Cosette.
The young girl glanced again at her foster-father, but even after the soup bowls were filled, neither man attempted conversation, so she spoke again. "Papa, the Inspector is so appreciative of poetry, and he was kind enough to say that I have a voice like a lark. He is so gallant, I wonder that you have not had him as a guest before!" Her voice went up ever so slightly at the end, and she gazed at her foster-father questioningly. Valjean knew what she was really asking was why if he knew Javert, as he seemed to, the Inspector had never before visited them, but Valjean pretended not to understand the implied question.
The meal continued. For Valjean, having luncheon with his former nemesis was a rather surreal experience. How the Inspector felt about it, the former 24601 could not tell. Javert ate the meal politely enough, if with no outward enthusiasm, showing little expression in either his face or his voice. Most of what slight emotion he did allow himself to show was directed toward Cosette. At one point, noticing the captivated way the Inspector listened to the young girl even when she was addressing remarks to her papa or to the servant, Valjean found himself thinking in astonishment; He enjoys listening to the sound of her voice. The Inspector was revealing characteristics which, before today, Valjean would never have dreamed the man possessed, or even was capable of having.
Indeed, it was Cosette who made the meal a pleasant one, for with a skill that might have been envied by many a hostess of a salon, she kept the conversation going. Never did she get too personal, or make anyone uncomfortable. She even managed to get her papa and the Inspector to exchange a few polite, if stilted, comments with each other.
Eventually luncheon was finished, and they all rose to allow Toussaint to clear the table, removing themselves from the dining room and entering the foyer.
"Excuse me, Papa, I shall return as soon as I change," Cosette said, and then paused before leaving to go to her room. "Inspector, will you join us on our walk?"
Javert seemed momentarily nonplussed, as if the idea of taking a walk for pleasure were a foreign concept to him.
"Come with us, Inspector," Valjean said. He would have preferred it was just himself and his daughter, as usual, but he deemed it unwise to leave the Inspector on his own just yet. Again, the words were phrased politely enough, but Valjean made it clear it was not truly a request. "Cosette, go change, and we shall wait for you here."
"Yes, Papa." The girl left the foyer.
"I should take my leave now," Javert said, no longer making eye contact.
"Inspector, you are still not well," Valjean began. "I wish for you to continue as my guest."
"You are not responsible for me!" the other man snarled, with a trace of the wolf that still seemed to be his persona.
"Am I not?" Valjean said mildly. "I once read a most interesting book on the customs of the people of Cathay. It seems that among them, if a man saves the life of another, the life of the one he has saved is considered to be his responsibility from that day forward."
"Well, this is not Cathay," Javert snapped, "and I will not be beholden to you. I did not ask you to interfere."
"Perhaps God did," Valjean said gently. "Inspector, I do not wish to leave you alone. I fear that you may again attempt to harm yourself—"
Javert took a step toward him, looking furious. "What if I do? Will you drug me again? I am not your responsibility, nor will I be an object of your pity!"
The older man lifted his hands, palm outwards, in a placating gesture. "Peace, Javert. It is only a walk. Come with us. Please."
"I am ready, Papa," Cosette's voice broke into the men's conversation. She was in the doorway, clad in a dress for the street, a shawl draped about her shoulders, a bonnet on her golden head, and lace gloves on the dainty hands she was using to carry a parasol. She looked a bit anxiously at the two men, and Valjean wondered how much she had heard of the words he and his old pursuer had exchanged.
Javert's gaze went to her briefly, and then back to Valjean. He took a deep breath, and let it out again, unclenching his fists before giving Valjean a grudging nod.
TBC…