A/N: Is anyone still reading this?
Chapter 18: On Houses Being Built and Castles Crumbling
There are bigger ironies in Jean Valjean's life other than the fact that he, a man who has spent some part of his life in hiding, is the creator of one of the most efficient CCTV systems in the city. 'It is only a blessing that keeps me here,' he tells himself one Saturday morning at home, while he's surveying some footage retrieved from the cameras set up in various transit points as well as street crossings near certain places of dubious repute. It's a nasty way of looking in, but it's the closest anyone can get to watching out for any other youngsters in the same plight that Clara Gardner just escaped from.
Jean Valjean presses a few keys to zero in on some clips, in order to compare them to some sketches retrieved from several lengthy interviews with the girl. He hesitates as he surveys a face and tries to enhance the image in hopes of highlighting any sort of likeness, but a closer look disproves his theory. "It may have to come to her pointing out the perpetrators in a line-up," he says softly, shaking his head with the gravity of this realization. He knows how terrible this necessary exercise can be, and he would do anything to spare this child the added reliving of her ordeal.
He hears a footstep at the door of his office and he motions towards the empty chair next to his. "I'll take a few more moments, Fantine," he says by way of greeting.
Fantine merely nods as she sets down a cup of ginger tea near Jean Valjean's workspace. Her hands smell like crushed leaves and water, a sure sign that she's been working on her bonsai again. "You can't have eyes everywhere," she chides him gently.
"That's true, but if we have the means to mitigate some suffering..." he trails off before pushing his chair away from the computer. There is no need to speak of how this situation was almost akin to their path, but for one act of kindness on a now distant rainy night. He picks up the cup of ginger tea and takes a long sip, relishing its heat. It's an acquired taste, but certainly better than the rainwater of his childhood years. "Where have Marius and the girls gone?"
"Marius is at work, Cosette and Elodie went shopping for new shoes," Fantine replies. She hums as she seems to contemplate the footage that he is studying, but there is no telling what her eyes actually see. His hand finds its way to hers, allowing her to rest her palm in his for as long as she likes. Eventually she gives him a small smile before quietly getting up, making sure to run her hands through his white hair as she makes her way out of the room.
Eventually he finishes his tea and then wanders through their house until he finds Fantine at the dining table, looking through stacks of framed photographs, mostly of Cosette before she enrolled in high school. There is also a tablet on the table, which he knows also contains pictures of still more recent years. "We should make some sort of photo collage or wall. It's a shame to hide all of this," she says, her tone one of nostalgia as well as pride.
"It would have to be a long one; we will be adding more to it," Jean Valjean reminds her. Yet it is so strange for him to see that this is only a part of all the years given to him, a sort of second wind if he dares to use that phrase. He has never been one to trust too much in visions painted on blank walls, but who is he to judge if it's Fantine's own hopes coming to life?
He lets Fantine look through the photos a few minutes longer while he surveys some news stories on his own phone. Not surprisingly his news feed soon shows yet another article relating to the ongoing investigation of Claude Enjolras' financial collapse. It has been more than a week since the first story broke and the coverage only continues to get more lurid, detailing now the man's ongoing divorce as well as accusations of battery and imprudent spending, among other high crimes.
Fantine's eyes darken with displeasure as she sees what her husband is reading. "I had thought at first that the source had been from within the family, but I am glad that it wasn't so," she says.
Jean Valjean's eyes widen with surprise. "Why, who were you suspecting?"
"Either Auguste or Eponine, but then I realized they wouldn't have that much access to his financial statements," Fantine confesses sheepishly. "I believe it's a business rival."
He shakes his head. "Those are unfortunate tactics."
"I wish everyone had your sense of ethics, Jean."
Jean Valjean smiles wryly, knowing better than to protest. He has been doing his best to be good for her and their family, and somehow they believe he is doing more than well in that department. "God help him then," he finally says as he pockets his phone. "I'm going to the store for some supplies. Is there anything you want to get?"
"I'll go with you. We have to start Christmas shopping," Fantine says. "It's only the middle of summer, but the time will go by fast, believe me."
"There are not many Christmas gifts we can get at a summer clearance sale, unless we look elsewhere besides the mall," Jean Valjean points out.
"Then let's do that. There are other occasions coming up anyway."
"Marius' birthday is in two months, Elodie's birthday is before the holidays."
"Those and we may as well get some small things for their friends as well as everyone at the foundation," Fantine prattles on. "By the way I intend to throw a baby shower for Eponine. It's only to help things along since I am sure she will not have time get everything ready before she is due."
This time Jean Valjean laughs. "She usually has everything planned out fairly well."
"We've known that girl since she was seventeen and quite...outspoken at the nursing school. She's like family," Fantine says adamantly. "I can't help looking out for her, Jean. She went for so long without a real home."
"She's always been a fighter, and she's doing better now," Jean Valjean assures her. Perhaps it won't do much to assuage Fantine's worry, but there is a chance it could lessen some of the effects.
His reverie is interrupted by a beep coming from his computer. "We might have a hit," he mutters as he hurries back to his workroom, where he has left his data analysis running. It takes him only a few moments to verify the matched images on the screen, and in no time at all he passes the data on to the police as well as to Enjolras and Percy. "I am sorry, we have no time to lose on this case," he apologizes to Fantine when he returns to the dining room.
"I had thought that after that uprising last year, things would get easier," Fantine says worriedly. "All we do is run into trouble."
"All we do is endure and work," Jean Valjean insists. "No effort goes to waste."
"You are too good." Fantine stands up primly and smoothes down her long skirt. "What was that you were saying about going to the store again?"
Jean Valjean smiles, getting her point immediately. This is why he loses no time in freshening up and looking for his car keys so he and Fantine can drive first to the grocer for some household necessities, then on to Avenue 54. The day market holds fewer of the more clandestine attractions of its nocturnal counterpart, but the wares here are just as varied and perhaps more fitting for a home. Jean Valjean finds that there is an untold delight in watching Fantine walking among rows of tall potted herbs or running her long, scarred fingers over bolts of fine silk and strings of smooth glass beads. In the sunlight she could almost pass for a Madonna, or at least someone in an equal state of grace.
Suddenly a yell followed by a crash comes from the general direction of one of the nearby restaurants. All eyes are now on a man who has somehow landed in a pool of whiskey and condiments, and is screaming invectives at a waiter drenching him using a spray bottle. It is clear from his greasy hair and unshaven visage that this is a fellow on the road of several days of self-neglect. 'Considering what he's endured over the past few days, this isn't surprising,' Jean Valjean realizes even as he takes a step forward. "Please stay back! We'll get him out of here," he says as he waves off the growing crowd that now includes hecklers taking photos and videos of the incident.
"Are you family?" the manager of the nearby restaurant asks cautiously.
"No, but I know the family," Jean Valjean says. He has to keep a straight face at the reek of vomit and alcohol that seems to be coming off in waves from Claude's hair and clothes. "Mr. Enjolras, can you hear me? Are you okay?" he asks as he taps the man's shoulders.
Claude groans and gives him a bleary look. "Who the hell are you?"
"A friend." Jean Valjean replies as he begins to check him over for any readily apparent injuries. 'Hopefully all he needs is a place to clean up and sober up,' he decides silently.
"What's this now, playing doctor? What are you going to poke at next?" Claude snarls.
Fantine shakes her head. "Jean, we have to tell Auguste," she says in an undertone. "He's the only one who can come and get him."
Claude looks quickly in her direction. "How do you know my son?" he asks sharply. "Are you two among his good for nothing radical friends? I don't want anything to do with your sort of ilk, woman."
Jean Valjean looks to the restaurant owner, who is watching this scene with a scornful look. "May we please at least get him cleaned up out back? We can't move him like this."
The restaurant owner purses his lips and then nods after a long moment. "As long as you keep an eye on him. He's disturbed enough of my customers as it is!"
"We'll take care of him," Jean Valjean promises again as he and Fantine take hold of both of Claude's arms so they can half drag him indoors and into the restaurant's washroom. He soaks a handkerchief in order to wipe some of the whiskey and grime off Claude's face, only to cluck his tongue on seeing how pallid the man is under the dirt. 'When was the last time he slept properly?' he wonders worriedly as he opens the bathroom's one window to allow them some much needed air.
In the meantime Fantine stands outside the bathroom, talking on her phone. After a while she opens the door and sighs deeply as she looks at Jean Valjean. "I managed to get Auguste on the phone. He'll contact his father's former EA to help figure out what to do next, but he'll meet up with us at home, as soon as he can."
"That's good," Jean Valjean says. He cannot think of anywhere else to bring Claude where he can recover his wits as well as his dignity. He takes one look at the man, only to find him already snoring on the floor. 'This leaves little choice in the matter,' he decides as he hoists Claude over his shoulder to carry him out of the restaurant. He manages to keep a straight face when he is met by cheers and jeers from the other restaurant-goers. Not surprisingly Fantine is also quiet, but she does glance at him now and then to make sure he won't collapse under Claude's unyielding weight. They have both endured far worse indignities after all.
By the time they arrive back at the house, Claude is beginning to regain consciousness, and it takes far less effort this time to get him through the front door and onto the couch. For a long while he says nothing but eventually he starts appearing rather less bleary. "Not bad for a philanthropist," he sniffs as he takes in the sight of the cosily furnished living room.
"What you need is a proper drink-meaning water," Fantine says as she sets down a pitcher and a glass in front of him. "And some food."
Claude reluctantly takes a sip of water. "Don't tell me what to do."
"We're here to help," Jean Valjean reminds him.
"After everything I did for everyone-years of my hard work down the drain, and for what?" Claude says, nearly spitting water everywhere. "People's idea of how they ought to run my business, saying it's good practice. I'll show them-"
"Mr. Enjolras, please calm down," Fantine begs. "You just had a bit too much to drink-"
"I'll damned well decide when I've had enough, bitch," Claude snaps.
Jean Valjean does not wait for Fantine to say anything; the sight of her going pale is enough. He fills up Claude's glass and puts it in front of him. "Drink more. It will do you good," he says firmly.
"You on your high horse," Claude mutters. He turns at the sound of a single knock on the door. "What's this, my prodigal son?"
'He's arrived a little too soon,' Jean Valjean realizes, but even so he knows he has no choice but to let Enjolras into the living room. "I am sorry for the inconvenience, but we could hardly leave him in this state, in public," he says to the younger man, noting now the fact that he is clearly dressed as if for an important meeting.
"You did the right thing. I have to be the one to deal with him," Enjolras says resolutely as he sets down his briefcase and walks over to the couch so that he is standing in front of Claude. His expression is unreadable as he regards his parent for a few moments. "Father, what have you been doing?"
Claude's head snaps up. "Dealing with the mess you made for me, you insolent brat! I've got nothing left and you've come here to gloat!"
"That is not my doing. You always said that your business was never my business," Enjolras answers. He pauses as his father's eyes go wide, clearly from shock and recollection. "I booked a ticket for your flight home, which leaves tonight."
"Where I am supposed to wait till your mother's lawyer serves me the divorce papers, you were about to say," Claude retorts. "You always thought you were so smug, with those so-called principles of yours. You were never good for anything but to defy me. I should have left you to smother in your crib. "
Enjolras pales at these words, but he does not avert his unyielding gaze. "Well then, now we talk." He looks to Jean Valjean and Fantine. "I would rather that you aren't party to this," he says seriously.
"Jean, I'll be in the lanai," Fantine tells her husband, and it is evident from her shaky tone that she wants him to follow.
Jean Valjean does so, and takes care to shut the door in order to ensure some added privacy, but that doesn't do much to muffle the sounds of the ensuing argument. For a very long while he watches as Fantine tends to some of her newer bonsai projects. It's only when her hands stop shaking that he can speak. "He's right. This is not our fight," he tells her.
"It's not that. How can anyone be so terrible to their own child?" Fantine whispers. "It's as if he never wanted to be a father."
'The seed for that was planted long ago,' Jean Valjean realizes. It's not for him though to say or guess when that might have been; he does not wish to know more about Claude's life than he already does. If there is any part he will have in this situation, it's to help deal with the fallout. That part becomes clear with the sound of the front door slamming so hard that the very walls seem to shake. Jean Valjean waits a moment before leaving the lanai, only to find Enjolras standing alone in the living room. "He left?"
"I contacted a former colleague of his," Enjolras replies as he gestures to where a blue car is pulling away from the curb. He lets out a ragged breath as he crosses his arms. "It is done."
Jean Valjean regards Enjolras for a few moments, knowing that underneath this terrible calm is a man also adrift. "Are you doing anything else today?"
"Reviewing the tip you sent. You have my thanks for that," Enjolras replies, now managing a ghost of a smile. "If there is anything you need, I would be glad to be of help."
"That will take care of itself," Jean Valjean reassures him. "In the meantime you are in need of rest. You cannot wear yourself out now."
Enjolras shrugs. "Well, I'll manage. Thank you once again for all your help."
"You're welcome. Stay well," Jean Valjean says. 'Poor, poor boy,' he can't help thinking as he watches Enjolras leave the house. Somehow even the very air of this place seems ripped and gaping, and he is not sure now what can fill the void.