Dear reader. In absense of a better word, I call myself a visitor to this fandom, and I apologize in advance for every mistake I might make, concerning facts about Les Miserables, as well as language, for I am not originally English speaking. My mind recently got taken hostage by this story you are about to read, and if my posting it here, gives one or two of you a good read, I consider my time well used. In any case, I believe this story wanted to be told.

Now I am telling it.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. The story of Les Mis is older than me and the movie made in 2012 was the only reason why I ever even started to care about it. Coincidence is a strange fate sometimes. Would you believe that my account ID is 2436510? I´m not kidding. It has been there for YEARS! Do the math yourself.

Darkness

The shock in Javert´s heart was far too big, as he watched this man, this convict, the criminal that he´d hunted for all these years, walk away from him. One step, then two. Three. Farther and farther away from him, and he knew that soon he´d be gone, out of reach for his musket to shoot him, the way he´d promised him he´d do.

He should. He had to. This man was a criminal. A wanted fugitive. It was Javert ´s duty, before God and men, to arrest this man. But in the end he just stood there and let him walk away. To bring this young man he had on his back to a hospital. Just like he´d brought this prostitute to a hospital, so many years ago. Back then, when he´d carried another name.

Always the do gooder, always the benefactor. Always on the run. So many times. So many times he´d proven himself a liar, a cheater, a criminal before the Lord. So many times he had evaded him, Javert. And now, now that he finally had him … he let him go. What on earth had gotten into him?

He stared down on the gun in his hand, and for a few heartbeats his fingers tried to hold onto it. But his fingers were weak, just as his heart, his entire soul. He had to be weak or he would have never let it come so far. The gun fell, just as his whole world was falling, and the hollow plop it made when it dropped into the dirt of the sewers, echoed strangely from the filthy walls all around him.

What had just happened? How had he gotten here? And why was everything so dark all around him?

Javert´s feet started to move, all on their own, carrying him away, like a sleepwalker trying to escape a dream that was too terrifying for words, too horrible to even name it. In this moment Javert, police inspector of Paris, felt a fear creeping in his heart, far worse than any fear for his life he might have felt, a day earlier at the battle of the barricades.

...

Jean Valjean, ex prisoner, life long fugitive, one time mayor and foster father of an orphaned child, had no idea how long he walked, this half dead boy on his back, and the assumption of the inspector still aiming his gun at him. But he walked, step after step, stumbling more than once. And at some point he just knew that Javert was gone. That the inspector was no longer behind him. No longer threatening to shoot him if he made only one more step. That he indeed had let him go.

And maybe that was the greatest miracle of it all. Not that they´d both survived the battle at the barricades. Not that he´d managed it to carry Marius out, through the sewers for a whole day. Not that he was still able to walk and carry this boy. But the fact that this uncompromising man with a heart of stone, the man that had dedicated his life to find him and bring him back to jail, had finally seen that there was more to life than law and duty. That saving this one man, the way Valjean was trying it now, was worth to make some compromises. To sacrifice some things in life. Like a rigid view of things such as life and duty. Like a daughter that finally choose to give her love to another man. A boy, half dead, gone soon if he wasn´t fast enough.

He had no idea how he made it to the boy´s home, the mansion of his grandfather. The baron surely would be asleep – if he´d found any sleep at all since those battles had started – but Valjean saw lights so at least some servants had to be awake. And sure enough when he knocked, a man and a woman opened, eyes wide when they saw him. He must look like a monster to them, covered in dirt and filth from top till bottom, the unconscious boy over his shoulder, his eyes probably burning like fire. In this moment Jean Valjean probably looked more like the prisoner he once was, than ever.

"Please." he gasped, sliding the boy off his back. "It´s the baron´s grandson. He needs help. Quick."

For a moment the two servants were uncertain, looking at him as if he´d talked another language. But then the man knelt down, inspecting the boy, finally recognizing him.

"It´s Marius." he cried, as if Valjean hadn´t already told them. "Dear god, go and call for a doctor."

The woman was gone instantly, probably glad to get away from this stinking old man that had delivered the half dead grandson of their master. Some more servants came, to help and carry Marius inside. And for a moment Valjean felt the urge to follow. To sit down and rest, only for a moment.

But he knew that if he did this, he would fall asleep and not wake up before the morning. And the way he looked and smelled right now, he wouldn´t want to do this to these people. Besides, the way they glanced at him, with so much fear, disregarding the fact that he´d just brought and saved the baron´s grandson, he felt that coming inside was nothing they would lightly offer.

And so he didn´t say a word, didn´t even try to speak, and turned around, to walk away. He needed to get home. His own home. Before he´d have to leave it forever. Surely Javert wouldn´t wait too long to come and get him at last.

...

It was dark. Still. It wouldn´t get better. Javert could not remember how long it had been since he´d broken his oath, and let the criminal go. Since he´d last seen him, walking away, and he´d done nothing. Since he´d been confronted with his own weakness and incapability to keep up his integrity. There was a law and the law spoke truth. Always. There was a man and this man had broken the law. Repeatedly. The law was speaking its sentence. Punishment. It was the only way. But the man was different. So different from what Javert had known all his life.

He was a criminal. But he was not bad. He´d seen him save people, again and again, he´d seen him make sacrifices, he´d seen him show kindness and even … mercy. He´d saved his life. Spared it when everyone else would have killed him, to be finally rid of this danger that Javert was. Even more, he´d offered him himself. To surrender. Had given him his address. To what? Come there and arrest him, after he´d altruistically saved this young man, after he´d saved him, Javert?

He was a criminal, a fugitive. How could a criminal be good like this? It didn´t work. It couldn´t be. And still it was. Javert could not compute. Not anymore.

His soul was torn, from the inside, his whole life as he had known it. Could things like that be true? It couldn´t. It mustn´t. None of this made sense. The simple truth of that was more than shattering. It was devastating.

He had no idea how he´d gotten to this point. But now, that he was standing here, on the Pont-au-Change, the water gushing beneath him, he tried to look up, to the stars, to ask, beg for some kind of relief. Some reassurance, that some things were still the same as they had been before this day.

But the stars were black, heavy clouds covering them, and nothing on earth or heaven was left for him to turn to. In this moment the darkness of the depth before him seemed so inviting, it was almost tearing him apart.

...

Staying awake was the hardest thing in the world, even while he undressed, peeling out of these dirty clothes, hard by now from all the filth. Even while he washed and dressed again. He managed it to make himself a bread to eat, before he would go out again. Somehow he managed all this without waking Cosette. She should not see what he had been through. And she should not wake up from the inspector knocking down their door, when he came at last to take him in.

That was the only thing that kept him going. That kept him from falling into his bed and sleep till morning. His daughter should not have to see how he got arrested, dragged out of their home in the middle of the night. There would be no way around of her learning about his past, now that Javert knew his home, now that he had promised him to surrender. But at least Cosette wouldn´t have to witness him being dragged out into the night. At least he would have the chance to tell her when it was light, in a calm tone, that could at least create the illusion that everything could be all right again.

After an hour of struggling against his own tiredness, Jean Valjean felt as if he was able to keep going. He stepped out into the night, and started walking. He made his way, not too fast but steadily, through the streets, toward the station of police. The one he knew was in Javert´s precinct.

Most likely the inspector was already waiting there for him. Impatiently, as always.

Jean Valjean chuckled. Maybe it was good this way. He´d been running for so long, lived under false names, not even his own daughter knew who he really was. Maybe it was time to stop all this. He was tired of running. And the fact that it should be Javert, from all the people in the world, his old warden from prison days, that should arrest him at last, was somehow poetic. Maybe there were things in this world that were just meant to be.

Surely he would wait for him, right at the door. The chains already in hand, ready to put them on him. Yes, Valjean could see that clear as daylight.

The more surprised was he to learn that Javert was not there, when he reached the precinct. Only a young man was there, a sergeant, sitting behind a desk. He barely looked up when Valjean entered.

"Pardoner moi, Monsieur." Valjean spoke carefully. "I … I am looking for inspector Javert. He should be expecting me."

The young man only looked at him, strangely and shook his head. "Javert won´t be expecting anyone anymore." he said. "At least not here."

For a moment Valjean was just startled. "Why that?"

"He resigned." was the brief impersonal answer. "Only an hour ago."

Valjean was shocked, so much he barely heard the next question of the man before him.

"Can anyone else help you with your concern?"

The former convict looked up, startled, and shook his head. "No, I …" he had to clear his throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It was only … between me and the inspector." Valjean quickly bowed his head at the man. "Thank you."

With that he left. But when his feet touched the ground before the door, he instantly froze. What had just happened? Javert resigned? How strange of an idea. How? Why should he do that? He´d always been so dedicated. And now that he finally had the chance to arrest him …

Valjean started walking again, not really noticing that he was moving at all. And not really paying attention to where his steps might lead him. His whole mind was clouded with this shock. The shock that maybe, he would be free after all.

...

Javert had no idea how long he´d been standing there, on this parapet, his mind swirling back and forth between right and wrong, between what could be and what could not. Must not. There was no solution. The two extremes annihilated each other inside his mind, to a point of self destruct. And by now the inspector felt dizzy. So unbelievable weak. And desperate. He´d known right from wrong all his life. And now? He couldn´t do it. Not like this. Not anymore. Please, he begged in silence. Just let it end. I can´t …

A gasp, so faint he barely heard it over the roar of the water, and then someone cried out.

"No."

Hurried steps approached him, and he swirled around, more by instinct, to look over his shoulder. The young woman stopped dead in her tracks as his eyes fell upon her. She was dressed in simple clothing, old and used. In her hand she was carrying a basket, one that she clutched now, as her gaze showed great fear. As if she was staring at a monster.

Only she´d run towards this monster, not away from it.

Her gaze changed, from worry to confusion, probably on purpose, and the next thing Javert saw was her glancing at him, as if she wasn´t sure what she was seeing. As if it was not all that uncommon to see a man standing on a parapet in the middle of the night.

"W … What are you doing?" she asked as if she really didn´t know. But then she waved her hand for him, because of course she knew. "C … Come down there." she told him. "Seriously. You … you don´t have to do this."

Javert shook his head as if to get rid of an irritating thought. Her unexpected entrance had distracted him, only for a moment.

"Leave me alone." he told her and she halted, as if unsure. Her eyes blinked several times as she tried to collect herself.

"What´s your name?" she asked him.

When he glanced at her she narrowed her eyes. "No, wait I … I know you. You´re this inspector. Ch … Chever? You´re a police officer."

Javert felt a stitch of pain in his chest at her words. "I used to be."

He could see in her face that she was startled by the tone he´d used. But that didn´t keep her from continuing.

"All right." she said. "Listen. I have no idea what happened, and why you think that this …" She pointed at the void. "… is the only way out but … I assure you there is another way."

As she looked at him expectantly, a chuckle escaped her. As if she tried to beg him, to finally throw the punchline of this strange joke. But a joke it had to be. Right, Monsieur?

"You have no idea what you´re talking about, woman."

Her nervous smile vanished, as if he´d just hurt her with his words. But why on earth should he apologize for that? He was about to die for worse sins than that.

The young woman cast down her eyes, only for a moment, before she looked up again, a tiny smile in her eyes yet again.

"Says the one that´s standing on a bridge´s parapet." she replied, as if there was nothing more silly in this world than this. Javert felt his heart boil with heat.

"Just leave me."

"No." she stated and this time her tone was strong. "I can´t."

"Then I hope you´re ready to watch."

"Wait!"

Her cry made him flinch, only for a moment, and he managed it just in time to keep his balance.

"In God´s name. Man."

Again she made him flinch, at the name of God this time.

"Get back down here." she cried, more desperate now. "Things are not as bad as they might seem."

Javert couldn´t believe it himself but he actually chuckled. "How do you want to know?"

"I just know." she told him, her eyes as fiery as he only knew it from soldiers. And some revolting boys he´d met not that long ago. "I know." she repeated, more emphasizing, seeing the change in his gaze. "It´s always that way." And she closed her eyes for a moment, to calm herself. "I … know … things probably seem … devastating right now. It sure does or you wouldn´t be here. But you know …" And at this she laughed all the sudden, nervously, looking about as if she had no idea where she was anymore. "What time is it anyway?" she asked. "Way past midnight, definitely. Wouldn´t you say so?"

Javert frowned, irritated by this change of subject. Her gaze had changed from desperate to something gentler. And her smile, it was so warm.

"It´s way too late for something like that." she told him.

God, her smile. It was so irritatingly sweet.

"You know …" she started again. "Some really smart men – scholars – they say … that one really shouldn´t make life altering decisions at an ungodly hour like this. Because at this hour the mind swirls towards the darkness, so much more than it does in daylight. It´s the devil´s way of trying to lure us into his realm. You mustn´t fall for this, inspector."

Her eyes were open, so open, that Javert had no chance to avoid this gaze. No matter how hard he wanted to try. Instead he found himself frozen to that gaze, as if she´d put a spell on him that kept him from looking away.

"Who are you?" he asked, and she actually smiled, once again this sweet smile that irritated him so much.

"My name is Marianne." she introduced herself. "Marianne Póche." And with a smile she reaching out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Javert only frowned warily at her hand. As if it was a snake that could bite him if he came too close.

"Please." she spoke. "Just come down there. Things will get better, you´ll see. In the morning, when it is light again."

And those were the words that brought it all back to him. The desperation, the impossibility of it all, the darkness of the world.

"There is no light." he let her in on this little secret. "Not anymore."

"Yes, there is." she insisted. "It will be. You´ll see. But only when you get down here." He could hear her voice break with fear. "Please." she almost sobbed. "Every night ends. How can you see the light again, if you don´t wait for the dawn? Don´t take this chance away from you."

She was audibly fighting her tears now. And something about this made Javert falter in his decision to jump.

"Please." she begged. "Don´t make me go home, knowing that I failed you."

Those last words of her finally stroke him, deep inside, on a place he couldn´t quite name himself. But it made him turn around to her. Mostly because it scared him, so much, to feel how much she´d just hit him.

She smiled at him, still so scared herself, and waved her hand, asking, begging him. "Please. You´re still needed, inspector. Please."

For a moment, how long exactly Javert didn´t know himself, she´d started to convince him. But there was something about this last sentence that made him wary once again. Still needed? He?

"How do you want to know?" he asked, and even he was scared by the weak tone of his voice. How broken he sounded, even to himself.

But to her it seemed to inspire new hope.

"I´ll prove it to you." she promised and not even his wary gaze could make her new gained confidence tremble. She waved her hand, invitingly, almost nonchalantly. "Come." she said. "Just … take a step in my direction. It´s not that hard."

Javert could only shake his head, at this predicament. "How is it that you saints always find me?"

It was almost a relief to see her frown, in uncertainty.

"I´m … not a saint." she stammered. "I´m just … someone that can´t just walk away."

This time when their gazes met, they caught and held at last. She was begging him with her eyes. "Please, just … come down here. Please."

Javert didn´t know what to do. Her pleads were just so urgent, so calling, it was hard to ignore her. On the other hand, it was probably hard to ignore anyone who disturbed the quiet when one tried to kill himself in peace. He looked down into the water, trying to think, to reconsider.

"Inspector!" she cried out, demanding, as if she was an officer who berated an inferior. And somehow that tone worked.

He looked back at her, and his turn about was just a little too fast. His foot already just at the edge of the parapet slipped, just a bit, but it was enough to make him sway, losing his balance. Instinctively he tried to regain it, but he failed. The void seemed to reach for him, not willing to give up its prey.

Marianne cried out and jumped forward, grabbing his hand out of the air. One quick pull and he slipped, down to her, to saver ground.

His momentum was too fast, it made her sway as well, along with him. Her hands reached out, to search for grip, steadying her balance on his body, until at last they both stopped swaying. Her exhale was so full of relieve, the grip of her hands too tight, he almost felt like being robbed. As if she´d just taken the greatest chance of his life away from him, in a totally selfish manner. And as their gazes met again, she of course could see all this.

There was a time, when men had flinched under his stare. When women had crouched and grown men had started to cry when he had looked at them like this. But this woman, only looked at him, so calm, as if she knew everything. Absolutely everything.

"Wait until morning." she spoke, collected. "Please. Just … a few more hours. You´ll see it looks better then."

Javert shook his head, fuming inside. But he managed it to hold it back. Yelling at her now would do no good.

"Please." her honest plead made him suppress his anger.

"Why do you even care?" he rasped. "For all I care I would have arrested you with no mercy at all, had I ever caught you doing something against the law."

His words as vicious as they had been meant, brought a smirk to her lips. "Well, then I am glad you never did catch me at this." she stated. "Cause had I been in prison … I couldn´t have caught you just now. Could I?"

He didn´t answer but she didn´t seem to expect a response anyway. She just kept smiling, this irritating smile of hers, and pointed with her head. "Come with me." she said.

Javert narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

She only shrugged. "It´s late. And I still have some way to go." she raised her elbow, strangely inviting him. "Walk me, would you? For protection?"

Javert snorted, but when she turned around, to pick up her basked, where she had dropped it earlier, there was something strange about the gesture, something that kept him from declining. She didn´t move away, only looked at him over her shoulder, waiting for him to join her. And eventually, for a reason that evaded him completely, he found himself taking her arm, at last, and started walking, when she did.

I will be thankful for every note that tells me what you people think. There is still a lot more to come.

Until then I say thanks for reading.