[fic] Toil Until the Old Colours Fade 2/8 [Les Misérables]
Title: Toil Until the Old Colours Fade
Pairing: (eventually) Javert/Jean Valjean
Content notes: Groundhog Day / Time Loop, Violence, Temporary Character Death, Suicide, Purgatory
Rating: Mature
Go back to read the first chapter.
Chapter two, Come unto me and I will give you rest
The seventh time, still
It was not wholly unusual to see Inspector Javert at Monsieur le Maire's door, not even at this late hour. The citizens of Montreuil-sur-Mer had learned these last four years that where their beloved mayor was a philanthropist of the first degree, with an unwavering dedication to Christian charity and mercy, the Inspector was equally devout in justice. Both could be seen on the streets at any hour, occasionally together, though habitually on their own.
Javert's strictness had first drawn reproach from those who came to his attention. Over time his insistence on fairness for all, together with his instinct for sniffing out falsehoods, earned him a measure of respect.
When he began helping the mayor more directly with his work, the more charitably-minded citizens started greeting him. After the evening when he personally threw an officer taking bribes and 'free samples' into the river, the ladies of the night stopped hissing at his shadow. On occasion, the younger ones would even blow a kiss or greet him with some affection. Without fail, this aroused his ire, which only made them more inclined to continue their game.
A year earlier, the Inspector had made common cause with Monsieur le Maire on a larger issue. Together, against considerable protests, they had pushed through a reform of the poorhouses around Montreuil-sur-Mer. The essence of it was a substantial improvement in the conditions for these most wretched of all the needy. Now, there were still sceptics around, but most kept their grumbling to themselves; the town as whole had been won over. Once they were forced to admit that higher sanitary standards, a slight increase in food allowance, and improved education for the children of the poorest had neither brought on a tidal-wave of destitute beggars, nor emptied the cash reserves, the mayor's generous heart and the Inspector's clever mind were widely praised.
So, if the Inspector was knocking the mayor's door at three o'clock in the morning? He surely had pressing reasons.
It was Madeleine himself who opened, rubbing sleep from his eyes with a hand.
"Ah, Javert?" He yawned widely. "Pardon, but the hour... What is it? Has something happened by the factory?"
"Monsieur le Maire," Javert said and doffed his hat. "Please, let me come inside. I have a pressing need to speak to you."
Eyeing the way the Inspector twisted the hat in his hands, he nodded and allowed him to enter without further questions.
The housekeeper appeared, hastily rebuilt the fire and brought out a bottle of wine before Madeleine managed to send her back to bed, waving away all excuses regarding slowness.
As he made to pour the wine, Javert could not hold back a flinch. Giving him a measuring look, Madeleine put the wine away again, choosing not to remark on it. Instead, he excused himself and went to the kitchen, returning with a kettle and two cups.
"Since your errand does not seem to be an immediate crisis - No? Thank goodness for that. Then, I believe some hot tea will do us both good." He hid another yawn and winked at Javert. "Even in this state, I believe I shall manage to arrange something without assistance." While he prepared the tea, he kept up a steady stream of small talk, though when it became apparent that Javert was unusually disinclined to chat, he finished his task in silence.
When their refreshment was finished, Madeleine took his seat and warmed his hands on a cup. "Let us speak, then."
Mechanically, Javert took a cup as well. "Thank you. You must excuse me, Monsieur le Maire, for I scarce know how to begin... I know I am far below you in stature, but I hope that I might still call myself," he hesitated, "a trusted associate?"
"You might. As for myself, I would call you a friend," Madeleine replied.
"Then, I beg you to forgive my presumption, but I must know; what has gone wrong recently?"
"Pardon?"
"Please, Monsieur, I must know," Javert said, leaning forward and speaking with great intensity, the words suddenly rushing from him in desperation. "What has happened? What have you done? Please! Are you ill? Must you leave this city? You must tell me, because I can not fathom what has gone wrong again, or what the cause is!"
"I'm sorry, Javert, but I can't follow you at all. I am in perfect health," Madeleine said. He reached towards the other man, as if to put a hand on his forehead. "I do however admit some worry about your own state; did we not speak about your working hours a mere month ago?"
"I am not ill, nor in any other ways affected. It is, oh, never mind! Not even a blessed fool would believe me!" Javert fell back into his chair, hiding his face beneath a trembling hand. "I should never have come here. But I can not stand to begin it all again, without even understanding why!"
"What? My good man - my friend, please, I can see that you are terribly upset. What is it that has gone wrong?"
"I do not know! Please, Monsieur," he almost begged, "can I trust you to tell me if there is a problem in Montreuil-sur-Mer? Is the factory failing? If your health is in good order- "
"It is, it is, I am fine! And the factory is running excellently too. Calm yourself, Javert!"
"And you have received no threats? There is nothing..." Pinning the mayor with a glare, he attempted another angle. "How about your political career? I know you have been working towards further recognition so your ideas can influence a greater area. Monsieur le Maire, could you have made an enemy, could you be in danger?"
"No!" Finally, Madeleine seemed to lose his patience. "Everything is going exceptionally well! You of all people should know this! Our town prospers! The work on the hospital and our plans for modernizing the sewage system are well under way!"
When Javert seemed likely to interrupt, Madeleine silenced him with a stern look. He was now completely the Monsieur le Maire whose presence alone could sway the will of the entire town hall and whose words had begin to make an impression as far away as Paris.
"As for my forays into the higher spheres of politics, we both know that I am not about to be chosen for the parliament tomorrow! But you yourself were present when I spoke to the justices regarding a reform of the debt prison system; you saw they were willing to at least consider my proposals. I do not understand what this disaster concerns. Have you received threats? Is there a silent unrest growing in our town that has somehow passed me by? What exactly is so important that it cannot wait until a more reasonable hour of the day?"
"No..." With every word Madeleine uttered, Javert's pallor increased. Finally, he nodded, defeated, and pushed away his cup. "I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Maire. I am constantly erring when it comes to matters pertaining to your person, and," he shook his head, amused at his own folly, "it seems as if even an eternity is not enough to teach me better." Rising, Javert clicked his heels together and gave a deep bow. "I apologize. I shall merely have to try again."
"Try what? Javert? Damn it, man, wait! Inspector!"
Javert was leaving, firm steps propelling him into the night faster than Madeleine could react and catch him. Reluctant to leave his home in nothing but nightclothes, he remained in the doorway until the dark shape had been swallowed by the night, after which he sighed deeply and closed the door. Tomorrow, he resolved, he would seek out Javert again and speak with him to see what tormented him so. Until then, his prayers for the man's troubled soul would have to be enough.
Unbeknownst to the mayor, Javert would continue his brisk walk throughout the night. Restless, he swept through the town from end to end until, as morning was slowly dawning, he reached the harbour.
When the warning call came, when he lifted his eyes from the dark ground and faced the full crates tumbling towards him, there was neither fear nor anticipation to be found in his face; nothing but a dreadful weariness.
The eight time
"I must beg your pardon, Monsieur le Maire, for disturbing you this late," Javert said the moment the door swung open before him. He stood at attention, hat clasped beneath his arm and face completely void of emotion.
"No excuses are necessary," the mayor answered, though it was clear from his simple dress that he had not planned to entertain any guests at this late hour. "You well know that I keep late hours. Is something the matter? Has something happened by the factory?"
"No, Monsieur le Maire." After a moment's hesitation, he continued. "On this occasion I do not come as your Inspector of Police, but as a man in sore need of your advice... perhaps even your charity."
"Well!" Eyebrows rising in surprise, it took Madeleine a few moments to remember his duties as a host. Coming back to himself, he stepped aside and invited Javert inside.
As his housekeeper appeared, flustered and apologetic for not being ready to greet the guest, he stopped her with a kind word and sent her back her bed.
They entered the small sitting room. Madeleine bade Javert to take a seat before tugging up his shirtsleeves and rebuilding the fire with a deft hand. While he was feeding the first flickering flames, he asked, "Do you wish -"
"No wine, Monsieur. No tea either. Please."
Once the hearth was spreading its light, Madeleine took down one of the heavy silver candlesticks that held the place of pride above the fireplace and used it to light the other candles in the room.
"I have always found that heavy matters are best discussed in brightness," he said, bringing a smaller candle to the table between them. "Now, please, unburden your heart. With God's grace, I might offer a useful perspective on your problem."
Though Javert still looked completely unaffected, his voice held none of the commanding tones the citizens of Montreuil-sur-Mer were used to hearing. Nor did he speak in the softer, almost cheerful way he occasionally used around his most trusted men or the mayor. Madeleine took note of the aberration, and his frown returned.
"I do not know where to begin, nor does it seems likely that anyone could believe me, for my tale is one of complete madness."
"Few men have reached adulthood without a few episodes which can afterwards be described as anything but madness," Madeleine offered. "I count myself among them."
"I have always strived for justice and yet..." A grin twisted his face, edging into a grimace of pain. "This problem shows me, quite clearly, how I am continuously falling short of the ideal."
"Pardon me, but I thought your difficulty was not a professional one? Not," Madeleine hurried to say, "that I am unwilling to listen, if you have a problem regarding your duties."
"It is hard to believe that a man such as myself can even have a personal problem, is it not?" Javert muttered. "In a way, you are correct. Even though the issue itself is one which haunts solely myself, the matter also connects to my duties and this town. And to yourself, sir, though the story of how that has come to pass is longer and more convoluted than the whole rest of it."
"I hope I am not guilty of giving offence? I know we have had our disagreements on everything from the proper distribution of charity to the correct design of the new hospital, but..."
"No, no, Monsieur le Maire!" Releasing one of his odd, croaking laughs, Javert hurried to interrupt him. "How could you be? You are - Monsieur, you are beyond reproach, in this matter. In all matters, for you are good." As I am not; the words might as well have been inscribed on his face.
Flustered, Madeleine fiddled with his collar. "You exaggerate, Monsieur, and if I did not know you better, I would believe you mocked me. We are but men, prone to failure even as we strive for good. And, as I recall telling you before, you undervalue yourself. In many ways, I believe that our ambitions are similar, even when we do not agree on the means."
"That is because you are not in possession of all the facts," Javert said, his tone making it clear that he had no desire to take up that old discussion again.
"If you have the impression that my own life is completely without blemish or blame, Monsieur, then it is your facts that are incomplete," Madeleine said gently.
"That is not what I believe, Monsieur. Nevertheless, it is a fact that my greatest sins begin and end with you. Oh, you need not look so upset! You were never cause, only the gravest example of my failure to see what was before me."
"I hoped I would be able to help you, because I see you are disquieted. Your words bewilder me and I find myself unable to follow the path your mind takes. Will you not tell me of this failure that you feel plagues me? I am willing to swear myself to secrecy, before God and all his saints, if you wish."
"It is not lack of trust that keeps me from speaking. It is the certainty that you cannot believe me. And even if you, by some miracle did, it has gone too far, for I can hear... Never mind; suffice to say, the next time we meet, you will have no recollection of this evening."
"Oh?" Though bemused by the cryptic talk, Madeleine's curiosity was obviously stirred. "Your words are not words I am likely to forget, Javert. Even if I were to do so, what is the harm in sharing your troubles with me?"
"If I told you, you would forget. Your answers would remain with me," Javert said, making a small, dismissive gesture. "That would be unjust. I do my best to keep on the narrow path, winding as it might appear on nights like these."
"Perhaps I trust in you to keep my confidences with honour? Please, I can see that I have caused some unknown offence, but I mean no mockery with my words. While I must admit that I am becoming worried, you seem neither drunk nor feverish." Madeleine smiled, looking for a moment like a much younger man, and then admitted in a low voice, "Besides, you have quite aroused my curiosity. It is unfair to tell me of such an intriguing occurrence and then refuse me the tale itself!" He pulled his chair closer to the fire, coming nearer Javert at the same time. "Tell me, and if I mysteriously forget, you will at least have known the relief of confession."
"And if I have gone utterly mad?"
Even now, Javert sometimes wondered at how this man, with all he had gone through and all that had been done to him, could have such an easy, warming smile. He now offered Javert the full measure of it and leaning forward, clasped the inspector's arm in one of his strong, labour-roughened hands. "Then I have indulged a madman for one night and listened to a fanciful tale. What harm can it do?"
"What harm can it do..." With a tired sigh, Javert admitted defeat. "What harm can anything do, while I am trapped here? Nothing matters, nothing properly ends, and every instant is but an echo of another world." For a moment, he stared straight through Madeleine, his face as cold and judging as it had been during his years as a guard. Tonight, however, the only prisoner he judged was his own lowly soul.
"Then hear my story, Monsieur le Maire. Though you will find it impossible and mad, I beg you to let me finish it."
"I so swear," Madeleine replied.
"As far as you can remember, it has been five years since I arrived in Montreuil-sur-Mer, has it not?" He waited for Madeleine to agree, then continued. "For myself, it is closer to fifteen now, though the years have not followed one after the other as they usually do. Instead, they turn and turn, like winter hunting summer in an endless loop. And I am stuck here, reliving my mistakes over and over again!"
Slowly at first, but with increasing vigour as Madeleine remained in rapt attention, Javert told his tale. Once he had begun, it was impossible to hold back; his frustration and anger spilled out before the mayor, the entire sorry mess of it. He did not spare himself, blaming no one but his own narrow mind and stubborn pride for this life halted. He confessed longing for the death he had once tried to embrace, only to find it would not accept him.
It was not until he came to the time when he had put the hangman's noose around his own throat that Madeleine interrupted, horror clear in his voice.
"Why would you do that?" he asked, staring at Javert as if he was likely to harm himself that very second. "You are a strong man! You could well survive an illness, you could struggle through it!"
"I cannot survive, not when the illness is a punishment from above! No, Monsieur, believe me! These judges, whomever they are, have no mercy and give no pardon. Even you noticed how unnaturally fast it began, though you cannot recall. You saw how I withered away, how fast my breath began to fail! But you do not remember! And even if you did..." Javert shook his head, fists clenched white in agitation. "Nobody who has not felt it themselves could possibly understand the - the quality of doom that covers the entire world! Shadows thicken and the angles of reality warp. Food becomes ash and to drink wine is to taste a mouthful of blood. But worst of all is the sound." He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed. "Oh, Monsieur, you cannot comprehend how loud that river is! It rushes through my mind, it terrifies me to the bottom of my heart, and yet..." Javert opened his eyes slowly, seeking the others gaze, begging for understanding. "I still long for it, for the oblivion that I know awaits on the other sound of that stream. If I only knew how to reach it! This state is dreadful beyond nature and it drives me to my death. No prayer can hold it back, no curses scare it away. Believe me when I say that I have learned the futility of struggle."
Madeleine's hand was warm and his grip firm around Javert's wrist when he replied. "To struggle for life, for another new tomorrow, is never wrong. If it takes you another fifteen years, fifty, my friend, I know that you will manage to free yourself."
"You believe me?" Javert looked caught between horror and joy, a state that only increased when Madeleine nodded.
"I can see that you believe, Javert, and that is enough for me tonight. If tomorrow and the days after that follow as they ought? Then we shall speak of this again, and I shall ask if you feel this doom to have lifted; if you wish to speak to a doctor or a priest. Tonight, however, I will believe you without a doubt. As long as," he added pointedly, "you remember to retain trust in yourself and your ability to free yourself from whatever devilish enchantment traps you here."
"Oh?" The sneer was old, the laughter bitter. "As you managed to escape the chain gang, with all your attempts? No, I will not be free until my jailer feels my time is up."
A gasp of perfect horror escaped him, though the hand on Javert's did not withdraw. "You know?"
Monsieur Madeleine had gone pale as a ghost, but any petty amusement Javert might have felt for scaring his former antagonist, was long washed away by the years. Especially tonight, when the shadows sang of death and the taste of river-water filled his mouth, he had no wish to see fear in another's eyes.
"I... damnation." Slowly putting his own hand above the one still resting limply against his wrist, Javert spoke in the kindest voice he could manage. "Forgive me for my idiotic words. Yes, I know who you are, Jean Valjean. But with that, I no longer mean that I know of the number once burnt into your skin. In this life, I have always known of the past. In fact, I have known in all these new lives, for I found out the first time." He swallowed down his shame, continued without taking his gaze from Madeleine's widened eyes. "Back then, that first time? Then, you did right to fear me, for I could not see further than the matter of your broken parole. In the end, I renounced you to the court, though you escaped me, then and later."
Madeleine swallowed, croaked a word, and rose suddenly, stepping away. "I need -" He opened the cupboard, took out two glasses and a dusty bottle. "Do you wish? It is not wine," he said, pouring himself a generous measure and taking a deep swallow.
Nodding his thanks, Javert poured himself some brandy and followed suit. "I am not much for strong drink, but I believe you have the right of it tonight. Please forgive me. I spoke too hastily, without thought, and I beg your pardon for this distress I have caused you," he continued, following the other man's pacing with worried eyes. "I should not allow my frustration over this situation spill over onto you. Monsieur le Maire."
Madeleine threw him a haunted look. "You would call me that, still?"
"I will be happy to call you that until I am allowed to rest in my final grave," Javert promised.
"Where did you..." He waved his empty glass in the air so that a few drops flew into the fire, making it crackle and spit. "The first time? How?"
"It was a little over a year after my arrival here," Javert said. "I had my suspicions already; pardon me, Monsieur le Maire, but for one who has seen as many convicts as myself, you still carry certain traces that are hard to mistake."
"Hah! I do, do I? That thought has occurred to me more than once. Usually when I lay awake before dawn, rehashing our latest argument - wondering if I had finally been stubborn enough to earn your enmity!" He tugged a hand through his hair, beginning to pace back and forth in agitation.
"Well, suspicion is only suspicion, and not even I would accuse a man of your standing on nothing but my instincts." He took another drink of brandy and admitted with a certain tone of shame. "Not unless I was furious for what I considered a tremendous slight. We did indeed argue one night, if one can call it that... It was about that young woman Fantine."
"Poor Fantine?" Madeleine looked worried. "Did I do her wrong again?"
"No, not at all; you were her saviour. But even if you had abused her harshly, I would scarce have cared. Monsieur, don't give me that look; I was a different man then, and would never have attempted to intercede for a woman in her position. And neither did anyone else. You recall how she was almost fired the day I arrived? Without knowledge of what was to come, I never noticed the matter. Without my informing you of the injustice done to her, she was left alone and destitute. And so, when you found her a year later, she was ruined and had become a woman of the night. Or rather, I should say when I found her; I was about to arrest her for fighting with a customer when you arrived. At that time, Fantine was dying of illness, poverty, and drink. You took her to a hospital, and though I now see that your act was fuelled by compassion, I was furious at the time."
"Why would you -"
"Because you suddenly appeared there, among all the whores and pimps of Montreuil-sur-Mer, speaking and acting like an angel on a divine mission! You took her away from a lawful arrest, in full sight of my men, and you did not even care about the humiliation you had served me. It infuriated me, that you had so blatantly ignored my authority. And for this interference to come about for someone of her standing! That night, I threw out my doubts and reported you to Paris."
"I... I believe you." Gazing into the fire, Madeleine's eyes moved as if he was seeing into a different time. "There is something about your words, a moment I can almost remember. An extra nip to the wind that night. A woman in red dress... she had lost her hair."
"She had sold it," Javert corrected.
As if his voice broke a spell, Madeleine blinked and returned to the present. "Pardon, that image was the only one that appeared. The cold, that poor young woman... You must forgive me. I can't seem to recall your presence."
"Of course not; you hardly noticed me when it happened. But this is all a trifle, now. You will forget tomorrow, or whenever this round of 'life' ends," Javert said, staring down at his hands
"Let me give you a memory then, something to remember," Madeleine offered, while filling up their glasses. "That way, if you wish to speak to me of this cycle of lives, you need not turn my hair white with terror by revealing that you know of my years in Toulon. Not immediately, at least."
"I already told you what an unfair trade that would be!"
"But if you are not mad, your knowledge of what will and has happened already far outweighs my own, does it not? Besides, you have paid dearly for any insights and secrets, in ways I do not wish to contemplate." Silence rested between them for a few moments before Madeleine continued, his voice thoughtful. "Furthermore, this is a topic I have long wished to discuss with my strict Inspector. My sense of self-preservation convinced me that it was far too dangerous to bring up, but the temptation has remained."
"Speak, then. I swear that I will keep your secrets from all others."
"Of course you will, Javert." Madeleine dared to smile at him again. "Now. If your story was of a man whose devotion to law blinded him to true justice, mine is far meaner. It is the story of a man who crawled into a parish like a sneaking dog, left as a thief and was returned in chains. But there, at what might have been the end of all stories in another world, a miracle occurred." Madeleine stopped by his fireplace, his hand reaching out to touch the candlesticks and he stroked the polished silver with loving fingers. "To this wretch lower than an animal, the Bishop of Digne showed mercy. He had before him a thankless man, who had grown to hate the entire world, and he showed me a glimpse of God's eternal love."
"Am I to gather that your first action out of Toulon was to steal again?" Javert said. Hard as he tried, he could not disguise a streak of accusation in his words.
Madeleine remained calm and shook his head.
"I asked for honest work," he said, "I begged for it! But I was either refused or forced to slave for less than any other man, despite bearing twice the load. I asked, as humbly as you could wish, for the right to rest next to the beasts during the cold night, for a moment's warmth by the fire. All I received was abuse, until then the bishop gave me these, and more than that! Come, I shall show you." He rose and Javert followed him into the small office, where the mayor's papers and letters were gathered in ordered heaps on his desk.
Taking out a key hanging on a small chain around his neck, he pulled out a sturdy chest from beneath the bed. Opening the iron-clad lid, he showed Javert the content: silver, several heavy chalices. "See these? Stolen goods, once," he said and took up one of the beautiful pieces, the edge worked and decorated. It was far grander than any of the dinnerware that ever graced Madeleine's simple table, yet was obviously kept well polished. "Everything I had taken, he gifted to me, when he could have condemned me with a word. And then he gave me two pieces more."
"The candlesticks," Javert surmised.
"Indeed; that was his final gift. Or, in his own words, the final payment for my soul, bought for our Lord."
"And so saint begets saint," Javert muttered, hardly believing his ears. "Is this what you are trying to repeat? With your alms and projects, with your endless charity and your blind trust that reaches even to a cold-hearted jailer such as I? Is that why you took the child for yourself, a simple barter with the Almighty?"
"Perhaps," Madeleine said gently, "we cannot buy a soul. But, as the good Bishop taught me, we can buy a second chance." He frowned. "Though I do not understand what child you speak of?"
Javert waved the matter away, his ire rising. "So, for every man who falls from grace, a handful of silver is enough to raise them; is that your great revelation? The weight of these pieces are what bends your back down to the wretched of the street, until all that you were drowns in the man of holy mercy?"
"No! That is not what is going on! I do not wish to create a chain of miracles, nor am I naïve enough to believe a handful of coins can buy the souls of this entire city! But surely you must see, Javert! I was no more bought free from sin with this treasure than you could be bribed away from the law with two handfuls of gold. It was trust, can't you understand that? It was the knowledge that in the eyes of this one man at least, I was human! I was worth saving. With all my faults and all my shame, he looked me in the eyes and saw a fellow man!"
"And yet he said that he had bought you," Javert pointed out. "He did not blindly give! He demanded your lifelong service in return!"
"It is a price I was, am, happy to pay. Today, nothing but my honour demands that I try and settle my debts."
"Then why do you give them everything so freely?" He waved an arm towards the docks, where Monsieur le Maire was a frequent visitor; always with a pocketful of coins and a kind word - or meaningless platitude - ready for every lost soul. Despite Javert's attempts to clean the area up and the growing prosperity of the town, there were always plenty of those ready to take the coin and ignore the word.
"Because it is my hope that those few coins, those simple words, will remind them that they should not let themselves become what I have been."
"They should not let themselves get caught, you mean?"
"If my little gifts can keep anyone from the despair that makes them throw away half a lifetime for one evening's meal, then yes; I shall do my best to keep them from your clutches. Please, Javert. You of all men must know what that place does to a man's heart. I feel it still, though less these days than before."
"Perhaps I am a fool," Javert muttered, "perhaps all these lessons of mercy that I believed I had learned were only lip-service, because I can not see. Monsieur! They try and trick you every night! There are always some whose hearts are flint, whose purses are not near empty enough to need your help, and you still give to them all, indiscriminately and without demanding anything in return! What soul is saved by you reinforcing the lesson that begging leads to gain?"
"The Bishop was a good man," Madeleine said, giving the chalice a final caress before he returned it to its hiding-place. "I am merely a repentant sinner; if this fine treasure equals a soul as downtrodden as mine, it would be unfair of me to expect anything but a few moments of attention for the little gifts I give. I try, Javert, but I can find neither the temperament nor the wisdom to judge who deserves help. And so, I try to give a little to all."
"What about the girl, then? You saved her from a child's hell. Was that all out of remorse?"
"I fear you will have to tell me which child you mean, Javert, because I do not recall giving special attention to anyone."
He rolled his eyes in irritation. "Fantine's daughter., of course! We last met her last Christmas, when the convent choir sang before mass. In another life, she became your daughter."
"I took little Euphrasie for my own?" Madeleine shook his head and led them back to the sitting room. "The poor thing must have been in dire straits indeed, if nobody but an old bachelor such as myself was there to care for her. While it pains me to hear that poor Fantine seems doomed to leave us when she should still be filled with youth, I am relieved that I can ensure her daughter more appropriate surroundings now."
Javert's next step turned into an ungainly stumble. "She is dying? Fantine?"
"It is not quite that bad yet," Madeleine assured him. "But unfortunately, you have the gist of it. The cough has her and the doctors agree that it is bad. I have had her sent to the recuperation home, for the fresher air. But she feared that she would not be able to care for her daughter much longer, and so I arranged a stipend so that Euphrasie might remain in the monastery school. She will stay with the sisters until she is grown, after which there awaits a sum of money that will see her married decently. Unless, of course, she chooses to remain," he added approvingly. "The sisters had only good words for her patience and understanding of the scripture."
"Did you sign this agreement today?" Javert asked, his voice faint.
Only now noticing how ashen his face was, Madeleine hurried to push him into a chair. "Oh dear, you seem most affected by this. Pardon me, I did not know... You were fond of little Euphrasie, in your first life?"
"Please, Monsieur le Maire, when did you sign the agreement for the child to go to the convent?"
"Three days ago. Although," he tapped his cheek, "my secretary forgot to take out the post. So it might not have reached the Mother Superior until today. Why? Surely you do not believe that the good sisters will mistreat the girl?"
Finally seeing the shape of it all, Javert ignored Madeleine's words. He spoke detachedly, as if dictating notes for a future report. "I have died twice for forgetting that I held knowledge that would save an innocent man from the docks. If I had not recalled him, I would still be dying on the day when his conviction fell. That, at least, was clear-cut once I realized it. The man was innocent; my testimony could save him, and so it did. But this?" He dragged a hand through his hair. "Forgive me, Monsieur le Maire, for my foolish ramblings, but why in the name of all hells could you not have mentioned it the first time?" Voice rising sharply, Javert continued. "How was I supposed to know that the woman was dying again when nobody would tell me?"
"Javert," he began, but the inspector was not in the mood to listen.
"I can strive for justice, I can work myself to the bone to be fair and merciful, but I find it unfair that I am, apparently, expected to bring your happy little family together! Oh God above," he spat, tearing at his hair in frustration, "this probably means I must ensure that you save that idiot boy too!"
"Boy?" Looking worried, Madeleine interjected a question. "Are you saying that I will come to wrong another child?"
"Nay, not enough! A town, a child, a fool - not enough! That would be too lenient a sentence for me!" Javert continued. Unable to remain still, he jumped up, his steps propelling him towards the door so quickly that the mayor barely had time to pull on a coat and grab his hat as he hurried after him.
"Javert! Calm yourself!"
"Why should I? I have time, all the time in the world!" Twirling around, he fixed Madeleine with an accusing look. "I have an eternity of repeating these years to look forward to, because saving the whore and this damned town and every bleeding beggar who arrives at the gates is not good enough! Oh no, I see it now - I will not be rid of this accursed life until you have personally had the opportunity to deliver each and every blasted revolutionary and street urchin to a better life, will I? But of course. I must not simply tell you to take the brat and run, because then the town will fail and I will be doomed to do it all over again!"
"Javert!" When Monsieur le Maire chose to use his strength, it was like being in the grasp of a stone statue, immobile and forbidding. "Do you truly believe that you are in Hell, beyond all salvation?"
"No!" he snarled, "of course not! If I were, I would have returned to a far lower point in my life and each of my deaths would be a thousand time worse! What do you think infuriates me so? They dangle a release in front of my eyes and snatch it away, leaving me to start over again and again and yet I can't help but hope! I hate this hope! I curse it, I would kill it, and I still can't let it go!"
"Good." Realizing that he had pulled the Inspector half off his feet, Madeleine eased his grip, though he kept hold of Javert. "You may curse your hope, my friend, but you must not give it up," he said, words soft, but spoken with complete faith. "I believe you, I truly do. And it is because I do believe that I fear you would stumble into eternal damnation if you were to give in to true despair."
"But I do despair," Javert said, sagging altogether as his anger faded. "You speak to a doomed man, Monsieur. The river is almost drowning out your words and the night is empty of stars and hope alike. I don't see - This is not changing the course of a trial, this is not interrupting an unjust firing. I do not even understand why you need the girl, never mind how you are to come together."
"I do not know it either," Madeleine said, "so walk with me, and speak to me. Let us together see if we cannot untangle this knot in fate; what do you believe must happen?"
And together, they walked through the night, while Javert shared the fragmentary knowledge he had of Cosette's life with first the Thénardier couple and then with Jean Valjean. When the first rays of the sun touched the town of Montreuil-sur-Mer, they seemed to flood the crowded buildings with liquid fire, and both men stopped to take in the sight of the grey buildings shining with dreamlike gold.
"I cannot imagine your torment," Madeleine murmured, "but I hope you see that even in purgatory, there can be beauty."
"I have never contested that," Javert said softly, wiping away a fine sweat of film from his brow, the long night taking its toll on him. "Though, I suppose if one must die," he exhaled, long and slow, and admitted, "this is a fine sight to take into the next world."
Madeleine hummed in agreement. When, a few seconds later, Javert seemed to stumble against him, he gave him a companionable bump with his shoulder. But instead of offering resistance, the Inspector fell to the side, landing heavily on the ground.
The question on his tongue died unuttered as he beheld Javert. The man was pale and sweating, with a heavy flow of blood dripping from his nose. When Madeleine began fumbling for his handkerchief, Javert's cool hand found his and he shook his head.
"Never mind," he said, his breathing growing more shallow with every passing second. "This is... not bad."
"But you were fine a moment ago!" Madeleine looked around desperately, but the streets were empty and asleep. "Help!" he called. "Is there anyone there? Help! For God's sake!"
"Tomorrow, I'll be again..." Lips turning blue, Javert struggled for a final breath. His last smile was grim, bloodied, and forced, but triumphant for all that. "I'll see you, M'sieur le Maire. Tomorrow."
Pairing: (eventually) Javert/Jean Valjean
Content notes: Groundhog Day / Time Loop, Violence, Temporary Character Death, Suicide, Purgatory
Rating: Mature
Go back to read the first chapter.
Chapter two, Come unto me and I will give you rest
The seventh time, still
It was not wholly unusual to see Inspector Javert at Monsieur le Maire's door, not even at this late hour. The citizens of Montreuil-sur-Mer had learned these last four years that where their beloved mayor was a philanthropist of the first degree, with an unwavering dedication to Christian charity and mercy, the Inspector was equally devout in justice. Both could be seen on the streets at any hour, occasionally together, though habitually on their own.
Javert's strictness had first drawn reproach from those who came to his attention. Over time his insistence on fairness for all, together with his instinct for sniffing out falsehoods, earned him a measure of respect.
When he began helping the mayor more directly with his work, the more charitably-minded citizens started greeting him. After the evening when he personally threw an officer taking bribes and 'free samples' into the river, the ladies of the night stopped hissing at his shadow. On occasion, the younger ones would even blow a kiss or greet him with some affection. Without fail, this aroused his ire, which only made them more inclined to continue their game.
A year earlier, the Inspector had made common cause with Monsieur le Maire on a larger issue. Together, against considerable protests, they had pushed through a reform of the poorhouses around Montreuil-sur-Mer. The essence of it was a substantial improvement in the conditions for these most wretched of all the needy. Now, there were still sceptics around, but most kept their grumbling to themselves; the town as whole had been won over. Once they were forced to admit that higher sanitary standards, a slight increase in food allowance, and improved education for the children of the poorest had neither brought on a tidal-wave of destitute beggars, nor emptied the cash reserves, the mayor's generous heart and the Inspector's clever mind were widely praised.
So, if the Inspector was knocking the mayor's door at three o'clock in the morning? He surely had pressing reasons.
It was Madeleine himself who opened, rubbing sleep from his eyes with a hand.
"Ah, Javert?" He yawned widely. "Pardon, but the hour... What is it? Has something happened by the factory?"
"Monsieur le Maire," Javert said and doffed his hat. "Please, let me come inside. I have a pressing need to speak to you."
Eyeing the way the Inspector twisted the hat in his hands, he nodded and allowed him to enter without further questions.
The housekeeper appeared, hastily rebuilt the fire and brought out a bottle of wine before Madeleine managed to send her back to bed, waving away all excuses regarding slowness.
As he made to pour the wine, Javert could not hold back a flinch. Giving him a measuring look, Madeleine put the wine away again, choosing not to remark on it. Instead, he excused himself and went to the kitchen, returning with a kettle and two cups.
"Since your errand does not seem to be an immediate crisis - No? Thank goodness for that. Then, I believe some hot tea will do us both good." He hid another yawn and winked at Javert. "Even in this state, I believe I shall manage to arrange something without assistance." While he prepared the tea, he kept up a steady stream of small talk, though when it became apparent that Javert was unusually disinclined to chat, he finished his task in silence.
When their refreshment was finished, Madeleine took his seat and warmed his hands on a cup. "Let us speak, then."
Mechanically, Javert took a cup as well. "Thank you. You must excuse me, Monsieur le Maire, for I scarce know how to begin... I know I am far below you in stature, but I hope that I might still call myself," he hesitated, "a trusted associate?"
"You might. As for myself, I would call you a friend," Madeleine replied.
"Then, I beg you to forgive my presumption, but I must know; what has gone wrong recently?"
"Pardon?"
"Please, Monsieur, I must know," Javert said, leaning forward and speaking with great intensity, the words suddenly rushing from him in desperation. "What has happened? What have you done? Please! Are you ill? Must you leave this city? You must tell me, because I can not fathom what has gone wrong again, or what the cause is!"
"I'm sorry, Javert, but I can't follow you at all. I am in perfect health," Madeleine said. He reached towards the other man, as if to put a hand on his forehead. "I do however admit some worry about your own state; did we not speak about your working hours a mere month ago?"
"I am not ill, nor in any other ways affected. It is, oh, never mind! Not even a blessed fool would believe me!" Javert fell back into his chair, hiding his face beneath a trembling hand. "I should never have come here. But I can not stand to begin it all again, without even understanding why!"
"What? My good man - my friend, please, I can see that you are terribly upset. What is it that has gone wrong?"
"I do not know! Please, Monsieur," he almost begged, "can I trust you to tell me if there is a problem in Montreuil-sur-Mer? Is the factory failing? If your health is in good order- "
"It is, it is, I am fine! And the factory is running excellently too. Calm yourself, Javert!"
"And you have received no threats? There is nothing..." Pinning the mayor with a glare, he attempted another angle. "How about your political career? I know you have been working towards further recognition so your ideas can influence a greater area. Monsieur le Maire, could you have made an enemy, could you be in danger?"
"No!" Finally, Madeleine seemed to lose his patience. "Everything is going exceptionally well! You of all people should know this! Our town prospers! The work on the hospital and our plans for modernizing the sewage system are well under way!"
When Javert seemed likely to interrupt, Madeleine silenced him with a stern look. He was now completely the Monsieur le Maire whose presence alone could sway the will of the entire town hall and whose words had begin to make an impression as far away as Paris.
"As for my forays into the higher spheres of politics, we both know that I am not about to be chosen for the parliament tomorrow! But you yourself were present when I spoke to the justices regarding a reform of the debt prison system; you saw they were willing to at least consider my proposals. I do not understand what this disaster concerns. Have you received threats? Is there a silent unrest growing in our town that has somehow passed me by? What exactly is so important that it cannot wait until a more reasonable hour of the day?"
"No..." With every word Madeleine uttered, Javert's pallor increased. Finally, he nodded, defeated, and pushed away his cup. "I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Maire. I am constantly erring when it comes to matters pertaining to your person, and," he shook his head, amused at his own folly, "it seems as if even an eternity is not enough to teach me better." Rising, Javert clicked his heels together and gave a deep bow. "I apologize. I shall merely have to try again."
"Try what? Javert? Damn it, man, wait! Inspector!"
Javert was leaving, firm steps propelling him into the night faster than Madeleine could react and catch him. Reluctant to leave his home in nothing but nightclothes, he remained in the doorway until the dark shape had been swallowed by the night, after which he sighed deeply and closed the door. Tomorrow, he resolved, he would seek out Javert again and speak with him to see what tormented him so. Until then, his prayers for the man's troubled soul would have to be enough.
Unbeknownst to the mayor, Javert would continue his brisk walk throughout the night. Restless, he swept through the town from end to end until, as morning was slowly dawning, he reached the harbour.
When the warning call came, when he lifted his eyes from the dark ground and faced the full crates tumbling towards him, there was neither fear nor anticipation to be found in his face; nothing but a dreadful weariness.
The eight time
"I must beg your pardon, Monsieur le Maire, for disturbing you this late," Javert said the moment the door swung open before him. He stood at attention, hat clasped beneath his arm and face completely void of emotion.
"No excuses are necessary," the mayor answered, though it was clear from his simple dress that he had not planned to entertain any guests at this late hour. "You well know that I keep late hours. Is something the matter? Has something happened by the factory?"
"No, Monsieur le Maire." After a moment's hesitation, he continued. "On this occasion I do not come as your Inspector of Police, but as a man in sore need of your advice... perhaps even your charity."
"Well!" Eyebrows rising in surprise, it took Madeleine a few moments to remember his duties as a host. Coming back to himself, he stepped aside and invited Javert inside.
As his housekeeper appeared, flustered and apologetic for not being ready to greet the guest, he stopped her with a kind word and sent her back her bed.
They entered the small sitting room. Madeleine bade Javert to take a seat before tugging up his shirtsleeves and rebuilding the fire with a deft hand. While he was feeding the first flickering flames, he asked, "Do you wish -"
"No wine, Monsieur. No tea either. Please."
Once the hearth was spreading its light, Madeleine took down one of the heavy silver candlesticks that held the place of pride above the fireplace and used it to light the other candles in the room.
"I have always found that heavy matters are best discussed in brightness," he said, bringing a smaller candle to the table between them. "Now, please, unburden your heart. With God's grace, I might offer a useful perspective on your problem."
Though Javert still looked completely unaffected, his voice held none of the commanding tones the citizens of Montreuil-sur-Mer were used to hearing. Nor did he speak in the softer, almost cheerful way he occasionally used around his most trusted men or the mayor. Madeleine took note of the aberration, and his frown returned.
"I do not know where to begin, nor does it seems likely that anyone could believe me, for my tale is one of complete madness."
"Few men have reached adulthood without a few episodes which can afterwards be described as anything but madness," Madeleine offered. "I count myself among them."
"I have always strived for justice and yet..." A grin twisted his face, edging into a grimace of pain. "This problem shows me, quite clearly, how I am continuously falling short of the ideal."
"Pardon me, but I thought your difficulty was not a professional one? Not," Madeleine hurried to say, "that I am unwilling to listen, if you have a problem regarding your duties."
"It is hard to believe that a man such as myself can even have a personal problem, is it not?" Javert muttered. "In a way, you are correct. Even though the issue itself is one which haunts solely myself, the matter also connects to my duties and this town. And to yourself, sir, though the story of how that has come to pass is longer and more convoluted than the whole rest of it."
"I hope I am not guilty of giving offence? I know we have had our disagreements on everything from the proper distribution of charity to the correct design of the new hospital, but..."
"No, no, Monsieur le Maire!" Releasing one of his odd, croaking laughs, Javert hurried to interrupt him. "How could you be? You are - Monsieur, you are beyond reproach, in this matter. In all matters, for you are good." As I am not; the words might as well have been inscribed on his face.
Flustered, Madeleine fiddled with his collar. "You exaggerate, Monsieur, and if I did not know you better, I would believe you mocked me. We are but men, prone to failure even as we strive for good. And, as I recall telling you before, you undervalue yourself. In many ways, I believe that our ambitions are similar, even when we do not agree on the means."
"That is because you are not in possession of all the facts," Javert said, his tone making it clear that he had no desire to take up that old discussion again.
"If you have the impression that my own life is completely without blemish or blame, Monsieur, then it is your facts that are incomplete," Madeleine said gently.
"That is not what I believe, Monsieur. Nevertheless, it is a fact that my greatest sins begin and end with you. Oh, you need not look so upset! You were never cause, only the gravest example of my failure to see what was before me."
"I hoped I would be able to help you, because I see you are disquieted. Your words bewilder me and I find myself unable to follow the path your mind takes. Will you not tell me of this failure that you feel plagues me? I am willing to swear myself to secrecy, before God and all his saints, if you wish."
"It is not lack of trust that keeps me from speaking. It is the certainty that you cannot believe me. And even if you, by some miracle did, it has gone too far, for I can hear... Never mind; suffice to say, the next time we meet, you will have no recollection of this evening."
"Oh?" Though bemused by the cryptic talk, Madeleine's curiosity was obviously stirred. "Your words are not words I am likely to forget, Javert. Even if I were to do so, what is the harm in sharing your troubles with me?"
"If I told you, you would forget. Your answers would remain with me," Javert said, making a small, dismissive gesture. "That would be unjust. I do my best to keep on the narrow path, winding as it might appear on nights like these."
"Perhaps I trust in you to keep my confidences with honour? Please, I can see that I have caused some unknown offence, but I mean no mockery with my words. While I must admit that I am becoming worried, you seem neither drunk nor feverish." Madeleine smiled, looking for a moment like a much younger man, and then admitted in a low voice, "Besides, you have quite aroused my curiosity. It is unfair to tell me of such an intriguing occurrence and then refuse me the tale itself!" He pulled his chair closer to the fire, coming nearer Javert at the same time. "Tell me, and if I mysteriously forget, you will at least have known the relief of confession."
"And if I have gone utterly mad?"
Even now, Javert sometimes wondered at how this man, with all he had gone through and all that had been done to him, could have such an easy, warming smile. He now offered Javert the full measure of it and leaning forward, clasped the inspector's arm in one of his strong, labour-roughened hands. "Then I have indulged a madman for one night and listened to a fanciful tale. What harm can it do?"
"What harm can it do..." With a tired sigh, Javert admitted defeat. "What harm can anything do, while I am trapped here? Nothing matters, nothing properly ends, and every instant is but an echo of another world." For a moment, he stared straight through Madeleine, his face as cold and judging as it had been during his years as a guard. Tonight, however, the only prisoner he judged was his own lowly soul.
"Then hear my story, Monsieur le Maire. Though you will find it impossible and mad, I beg you to let me finish it."
"I so swear," Madeleine replied.
"As far as you can remember, it has been five years since I arrived in Montreuil-sur-Mer, has it not?" He waited for Madeleine to agree, then continued. "For myself, it is closer to fifteen now, though the years have not followed one after the other as they usually do. Instead, they turn and turn, like winter hunting summer in an endless loop. And I am stuck here, reliving my mistakes over and over again!"
Slowly at first, but with increasing vigour as Madeleine remained in rapt attention, Javert told his tale. Once he had begun, it was impossible to hold back; his frustration and anger spilled out before the mayor, the entire sorry mess of it. He did not spare himself, blaming no one but his own narrow mind and stubborn pride for this life halted. He confessed longing for the death he had once tried to embrace, only to find it would not accept him.
It was not until he came to the time when he had put the hangman's noose around his own throat that Madeleine interrupted, horror clear in his voice.
"Why would you do that?" he asked, staring at Javert as if he was likely to harm himself that very second. "You are a strong man! You could well survive an illness, you could struggle through it!"
"I cannot survive, not when the illness is a punishment from above! No, Monsieur, believe me! These judges, whomever they are, have no mercy and give no pardon. Even you noticed how unnaturally fast it began, though you cannot recall. You saw how I withered away, how fast my breath began to fail! But you do not remember! And even if you did..." Javert shook his head, fists clenched white in agitation. "Nobody who has not felt it themselves could possibly understand the - the quality of doom that covers the entire world! Shadows thicken and the angles of reality warp. Food becomes ash and to drink wine is to taste a mouthful of blood. But worst of all is the sound." He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed. "Oh, Monsieur, you cannot comprehend how loud that river is! It rushes through my mind, it terrifies me to the bottom of my heart, and yet..." Javert opened his eyes slowly, seeking the others gaze, begging for understanding. "I still long for it, for the oblivion that I know awaits on the other sound of that stream. If I only knew how to reach it! This state is dreadful beyond nature and it drives me to my death. No prayer can hold it back, no curses scare it away. Believe me when I say that I have learned the futility of struggle."
Madeleine's hand was warm and his grip firm around Javert's wrist when he replied. "To struggle for life, for another new tomorrow, is never wrong. If it takes you another fifteen years, fifty, my friend, I know that you will manage to free yourself."
"You believe me?" Javert looked caught between horror and joy, a state that only increased when Madeleine nodded.
"I can see that you believe, Javert, and that is enough for me tonight. If tomorrow and the days after that follow as they ought? Then we shall speak of this again, and I shall ask if you feel this doom to have lifted; if you wish to speak to a doctor or a priest. Tonight, however, I will believe you without a doubt. As long as," he added pointedly, "you remember to retain trust in yourself and your ability to free yourself from whatever devilish enchantment traps you here."
"Oh?" The sneer was old, the laughter bitter. "As you managed to escape the chain gang, with all your attempts? No, I will not be free until my jailer feels my time is up."
A gasp of perfect horror escaped him, though the hand on Javert's did not withdraw. "You know?"
Monsieur Madeleine had gone pale as a ghost, but any petty amusement Javert might have felt for scaring his former antagonist, was long washed away by the years. Especially tonight, when the shadows sang of death and the taste of river-water filled his mouth, he had no wish to see fear in another's eyes.
"I... damnation." Slowly putting his own hand above the one still resting limply against his wrist, Javert spoke in the kindest voice he could manage. "Forgive me for my idiotic words. Yes, I know who you are, Jean Valjean. But with that, I no longer mean that I know of the number once burnt into your skin. In this life, I have always known of the past. In fact, I have known in all these new lives, for I found out the first time." He swallowed down his shame, continued without taking his gaze from Madeleine's widened eyes. "Back then, that first time? Then, you did right to fear me, for I could not see further than the matter of your broken parole. In the end, I renounced you to the court, though you escaped me, then and later."
Madeleine swallowed, croaked a word, and rose suddenly, stepping away. "I need -" He opened the cupboard, took out two glasses and a dusty bottle. "Do you wish? It is not wine," he said, pouring himself a generous measure and taking a deep swallow.
Nodding his thanks, Javert poured himself some brandy and followed suit. "I am not much for strong drink, but I believe you have the right of it tonight. Please forgive me. I spoke too hastily, without thought, and I beg your pardon for this distress I have caused you," he continued, following the other man's pacing with worried eyes. "I should not allow my frustration over this situation spill over onto you. Monsieur le Maire."
Madeleine threw him a haunted look. "You would call me that, still?"
"I will be happy to call you that until I am allowed to rest in my final grave," Javert promised.
"Where did you..." He waved his empty glass in the air so that a few drops flew into the fire, making it crackle and spit. "The first time? How?"
"It was a little over a year after my arrival here," Javert said. "I had my suspicions already; pardon me, Monsieur le Maire, but for one who has seen as many convicts as myself, you still carry certain traces that are hard to mistake."
"Hah! I do, do I? That thought has occurred to me more than once. Usually when I lay awake before dawn, rehashing our latest argument - wondering if I had finally been stubborn enough to earn your enmity!" He tugged a hand through his hair, beginning to pace back and forth in agitation.
"Well, suspicion is only suspicion, and not even I would accuse a man of your standing on nothing but my instincts." He took another drink of brandy and admitted with a certain tone of shame. "Not unless I was furious for what I considered a tremendous slight. We did indeed argue one night, if one can call it that... It was about that young woman Fantine."
"Poor Fantine?" Madeleine looked worried. "Did I do her wrong again?"
"No, not at all; you were her saviour. But even if you had abused her harshly, I would scarce have cared. Monsieur, don't give me that look; I was a different man then, and would never have attempted to intercede for a woman in her position. And neither did anyone else. You recall how she was almost fired the day I arrived? Without knowledge of what was to come, I never noticed the matter. Without my informing you of the injustice done to her, she was left alone and destitute. And so, when you found her a year later, she was ruined and had become a woman of the night. Or rather, I should say when I found her; I was about to arrest her for fighting with a customer when you arrived. At that time, Fantine was dying of illness, poverty, and drink. You took her to a hospital, and though I now see that your act was fuelled by compassion, I was furious at the time."
"Why would you -"
"Because you suddenly appeared there, among all the whores and pimps of Montreuil-sur-Mer, speaking and acting like an angel on a divine mission! You took her away from a lawful arrest, in full sight of my men, and you did not even care about the humiliation you had served me. It infuriated me, that you had so blatantly ignored my authority. And for this interference to come about for someone of her standing! That night, I threw out my doubts and reported you to Paris."
"I... I believe you." Gazing into the fire, Madeleine's eyes moved as if he was seeing into a different time. "There is something about your words, a moment I can almost remember. An extra nip to the wind that night. A woman in red dress... she had lost her hair."
"She had sold it," Javert corrected.
As if his voice broke a spell, Madeleine blinked and returned to the present. "Pardon, that image was the only one that appeared. The cold, that poor young woman... You must forgive me. I can't seem to recall your presence."
"Of course not; you hardly noticed me when it happened. But this is all a trifle, now. You will forget tomorrow, or whenever this round of 'life' ends," Javert said, staring down at his hands
"Let me give you a memory then, something to remember," Madeleine offered, while filling up their glasses. "That way, if you wish to speak to me of this cycle of lives, you need not turn my hair white with terror by revealing that you know of my years in Toulon. Not immediately, at least."
"I already told you what an unfair trade that would be!"
"But if you are not mad, your knowledge of what will and has happened already far outweighs my own, does it not? Besides, you have paid dearly for any insights and secrets, in ways I do not wish to contemplate." Silence rested between them for a few moments before Madeleine continued, his voice thoughtful. "Furthermore, this is a topic I have long wished to discuss with my strict Inspector. My sense of self-preservation convinced me that it was far too dangerous to bring up, but the temptation has remained."
"Speak, then. I swear that I will keep your secrets from all others."
"Of course you will, Javert." Madeleine dared to smile at him again. "Now. If your story was of a man whose devotion to law blinded him to true justice, mine is far meaner. It is the story of a man who crawled into a parish like a sneaking dog, left as a thief and was returned in chains. But there, at what might have been the end of all stories in another world, a miracle occurred." Madeleine stopped by his fireplace, his hand reaching out to touch the candlesticks and he stroked the polished silver with loving fingers. "To this wretch lower than an animal, the Bishop of Digne showed mercy. He had before him a thankless man, who had grown to hate the entire world, and he showed me a glimpse of God's eternal love."
"Am I to gather that your first action out of Toulon was to steal again?" Javert said. Hard as he tried, he could not disguise a streak of accusation in his words.
Madeleine remained calm and shook his head.
"I asked for honest work," he said, "I begged for it! But I was either refused or forced to slave for less than any other man, despite bearing twice the load. I asked, as humbly as you could wish, for the right to rest next to the beasts during the cold night, for a moment's warmth by the fire. All I received was abuse, until then the bishop gave me these, and more than that! Come, I shall show you." He rose and Javert followed him into the small office, where the mayor's papers and letters were gathered in ordered heaps on his desk.
Taking out a key hanging on a small chain around his neck, he pulled out a sturdy chest from beneath the bed. Opening the iron-clad lid, he showed Javert the content: silver, several heavy chalices. "See these? Stolen goods, once," he said and took up one of the beautiful pieces, the edge worked and decorated. It was far grander than any of the dinnerware that ever graced Madeleine's simple table, yet was obviously kept well polished. "Everything I had taken, he gifted to me, when he could have condemned me with a word. And then he gave me two pieces more."
"The candlesticks," Javert surmised.
"Indeed; that was his final gift. Or, in his own words, the final payment for my soul, bought for our Lord."
"And so saint begets saint," Javert muttered, hardly believing his ears. "Is this what you are trying to repeat? With your alms and projects, with your endless charity and your blind trust that reaches even to a cold-hearted jailer such as I? Is that why you took the child for yourself, a simple barter with the Almighty?"
"Perhaps," Madeleine said gently, "we cannot buy a soul. But, as the good Bishop taught me, we can buy a second chance." He frowned. "Though I do not understand what child you speak of?"
Javert waved the matter away, his ire rising. "So, for every man who falls from grace, a handful of silver is enough to raise them; is that your great revelation? The weight of these pieces are what bends your back down to the wretched of the street, until all that you were drowns in the man of holy mercy?"
"No! That is not what is going on! I do not wish to create a chain of miracles, nor am I naïve enough to believe a handful of coins can buy the souls of this entire city! But surely you must see, Javert! I was no more bought free from sin with this treasure than you could be bribed away from the law with two handfuls of gold. It was trust, can't you understand that? It was the knowledge that in the eyes of this one man at least, I was human! I was worth saving. With all my faults and all my shame, he looked me in the eyes and saw a fellow man!"
"And yet he said that he had bought you," Javert pointed out. "He did not blindly give! He demanded your lifelong service in return!"
"It is a price I was, am, happy to pay. Today, nothing but my honour demands that I try and settle my debts."
"Then why do you give them everything so freely?" He waved an arm towards the docks, where Monsieur le Maire was a frequent visitor; always with a pocketful of coins and a kind word - or meaningless platitude - ready for every lost soul. Despite Javert's attempts to clean the area up and the growing prosperity of the town, there were always plenty of those ready to take the coin and ignore the word.
"Because it is my hope that those few coins, those simple words, will remind them that they should not let themselves become what I have been."
"They should not let themselves get caught, you mean?"
"If my little gifts can keep anyone from the despair that makes them throw away half a lifetime for one evening's meal, then yes; I shall do my best to keep them from your clutches. Please, Javert. You of all men must know what that place does to a man's heart. I feel it still, though less these days than before."
"Perhaps I am a fool," Javert muttered, "perhaps all these lessons of mercy that I believed I had learned were only lip-service, because I can not see. Monsieur! They try and trick you every night! There are always some whose hearts are flint, whose purses are not near empty enough to need your help, and you still give to them all, indiscriminately and without demanding anything in return! What soul is saved by you reinforcing the lesson that begging leads to gain?"
"The Bishop was a good man," Madeleine said, giving the chalice a final caress before he returned it to its hiding-place. "I am merely a repentant sinner; if this fine treasure equals a soul as downtrodden as mine, it would be unfair of me to expect anything but a few moments of attention for the little gifts I give. I try, Javert, but I can find neither the temperament nor the wisdom to judge who deserves help. And so, I try to give a little to all."
"What about the girl, then? You saved her from a child's hell. Was that all out of remorse?"
"I fear you will have to tell me which child you mean, Javert, because I do not recall giving special attention to anyone."
He rolled his eyes in irritation. "Fantine's daughter., of course! We last met her last Christmas, when the convent choir sang before mass. In another life, she became your daughter."
"I took little Euphrasie for my own?" Madeleine shook his head and led them back to the sitting room. "The poor thing must have been in dire straits indeed, if nobody but an old bachelor such as myself was there to care for her. While it pains me to hear that poor Fantine seems doomed to leave us when she should still be filled with youth, I am relieved that I can ensure her daughter more appropriate surroundings now."
Javert's next step turned into an ungainly stumble. "She is dying? Fantine?"
"It is not quite that bad yet," Madeleine assured him. "But unfortunately, you have the gist of it. The cough has her and the doctors agree that it is bad. I have had her sent to the recuperation home, for the fresher air. But she feared that she would not be able to care for her daughter much longer, and so I arranged a stipend so that Euphrasie might remain in the monastery school. She will stay with the sisters until she is grown, after which there awaits a sum of money that will see her married decently. Unless, of course, she chooses to remain," he added approvingly. "The sisters had only good words for her patience and understanding of the scripture."
"Did you sign this agreement today?" Javert asked, his voice faint.
Only now noticing how ashen his face was, Madeleine hurried to push him into a chair. "Oh dear, you seem most affected by this. Pardon me, I did not know... You were fond of little Euphrasie, in your first life?"
"Please, Monsieur le Maire, when did you sign the agreement for the child to go to the convent?"
"Three days ago. Although," he tapped his cheek, "my secretary forgot to take out the post. So it might not have reached the Mother Superior until today. Why? Surely you do not believe that the good sisters will mistreat the girl?"
Finally seeing the shape of it all, Javert ignored Madeleine's words. He spoke detachedly, as if dictating notes for a future report. "I have died twice for forgetting that I held knowledge that would save an innocent man from the docks. If I had not recalled him, I would still be dying on the day when his conviction fell. That, at least, was clear-cut once I realized it. The man was innocent; my testimony could save him, and so it did. But this?" He dragged a hand through his hair. "Forgive me, Monsieur le Maire, for my foolish ramblings, but why in the name of all hells could you not have mentioned it the first time?" Voice rising sharply, Javert continued. "How was I supposed to know that the woman was dying again when nobody would tell me?"
"Javert," he began, but the inspector was not in the mood to listen.
"I can strive for justice, I can work myself to the bone to be fair and merciful, but I find it unfair that I am, apparently, expected to bring your happy little family together! Oh God above," he spat, tearing at his hair in frustration, "this probably means I must ensure that you save that idiot boy too!"
"Boy?" Looking worried, Madeleine interjected a question. "Are you saying that I will come to wrong another child?"
"Nay, not enough! A town, a child, a fool - not enough! That would be too lenient a sentence for me!" Javert continued. Unable to remain still, he jumped up, his steps propelling him towards the door so quickly that the mayor barely had time to pull on a coat and grab his hat as he hurried after him.
"Javert! Calm yourself!"
"Why should I? I have time, all the time in the world!" Twirling around, he fixed Madeleine with an accusing look. "I have an eternity of repeating these years to look forward to, because saving the whore and this damned town and every bleeding beggar who arrives at the gates is not good enough! Oh no, I see it now - I will not be rid of this accursed life until you have personally had the opportunity to deliver each and every blasted revolutionary and street urchin to a better life, will I? But of course. I must not simply tell you to take the brat and run, because then the town will fail and I will be doomed to do it all over again!"
"Javert!" When Monsieur le Maire chose to use his strength, it was like being in the grasp of a stone statue, immobile and forbidding. "Do you truly believe that you are in Hell, beyond all salvation?"
"No!" he snarled, "of course not! If I were, I would have returned to a far lower point in my life and each of my deaths would be a thousand time worse! What do you think infuriates me so? They dangle a release in front of my eyes and snatch it away, leaving me to start over again and again and yet I can't help but hope! I hate this hope! I curse it, I would kill it, and I still can't let it go!"
"Good." Realizing that he had pulled the Inspector half off his feet, Madeleine eased his grip, though he kept hold of Javert. "You may curse your hope, my friend, but you must not give it up," he said, words soft, but spoken with complete faith. "I believe you, I truly do. And it is because I do believe that I fear you would stumble into eternal damnation if you were to give in to true despair."
"But I do despair," Javert said, sagging altogether as his anger faded. "You speak to a doomed man, Monsieur. The river is almost drowning out your words and the night is empty of stars and hope alike. I don't see - This is not changing the course of a trial, this is not interrupting an unjust firing. I do not even understand why you need the girl, never mind how you are to come together."
"I do not know it either," Madeleine said, "so walk with me, and speak to me. Let us together see if we cannot untangle this knot in fate; what do you believe must happen?"
And together, they walked through the night, while Javert shared the fragmentary knowledge he had of Cosette's life with first the Thénardier couple and then with Jean Valjean. When the first rays of the sun touched the town of Montreuil-sur-Mer, they seemed to flood the crowded buildings with liquid fire, and both men stopped to take in the sight of the grey buildings shining with dreamlike gold.
"I cannot imagine your torment," Madeleine murmured, "but I hope you see that even in purgatory, there can be beauty."
"I have never contested that," Javert said softly, wiping away a fine sweat of film from his brow, the long night taking its toll on him. "Though, I suppose if one must die," he exhaled, long and slow, and admitted, "this is a fine sight to take into the next world."
Madeleine hummed in agreement. When, a few seconds later, Javert seemed to stumble against him, he gave him a companionable bump with his shoulder. But instead of offering resistance, the Inspector fell to the side, landing heavily on the ground.
The question on his tongue died unuttered as he beheld Javert. The man was pale and sweating, with a heavy flow of blood dripping from his nose. When Madeleine began fumbling for his handkerchief, Javert's cool hand found his and he shook his head.
"Never mind," he said, his breathing growing more shallow with every passing second. "This is... not bad."
"But you were fine a moment ago!" Madeleine looked around desperately, but the streets were empty and asleep. "Help!" he called. "Is there anyone there? Help! For God's sake!"
"Tomorrow, I'll be again..." Lips turning blue, Javert struggled for a final breath. His last smile was grim, bloodied, and forced, but triumphant for all that. "I'll see you, M'sieur le Maire. Tomorrow."