I don't usually tag my Les Mis stories to The Brick, because there are just too many details to keep straight, but I tried to do so here. This story is tagged to the chapter "Embryonic Formation of Crimes in the Incubation of Prisons," in which Javert, after the raid on the Gorbeau House, tries to capture Montparnasse too, but ends up capturing only Eponine, who is "a mediocre consolation." This is my take on how his arrest of Eponine might've gone a little differently.

(For my own reference: 76th fanfiction, 14th story for Les Miserables.)

He was there waiting for her when she came back.

Her father and his gang had laid a trap at the Gorbeau House, for the old man who'd taken Cosette from them years ago. They'd told Eponine to stay outside in the garden, as the look-out, but when Montparnasse passed by, she let him sweet-talk her away for a walk beneath the stars. Eponine didn't love Parnasse, of course - she only loved Monsieur Marius - and she knew that he didn't love her, either. She realized that, painfully, when she returned to Gorbeau House and discovered what had happened while she was gone. Parnasse had only used her. He'd used her to get away safely, and while she'd abandoned her post as look-out, the police had come and arrested her entire family.

She didn't realize until too late that one policeman was still there, waiting for her. He lurked in the darkness like a tomcat, and when she was close enough, he lept out and grabbed her arm. She screeched and kicked and fought, but it was no use. The police had been trained to get a grip and maintain it at all costs. Eponine eventually gave up struggling, and she felt a new wave of dread when she got a good look at who'd just grabbed her.

It wasn't just any policeman. No, it was Inspector Javert, who was so fierce that even the other police were afraid of him. Javert was the only policeman that Eponine knew by name; he was easy to remember, for he didn't look like any other policeman on the force. He was dark - so dark that she'd heard a rumor once that he was a Gypsy. But Eponine was never sure whether to believe it, for it seemed impossible that a Gypsy ever could've been made a police inspector.

Apparently, he recognized her, too.

"I know who you are," he said, pulling her closer to him. His voice was strangely soft. "You're the ring-leader's daughter. Tell me what other aliases your father has been operating under," he ordered. "I know Jondrette isn't your family's real name."

Eponine pressed her lips together defiantly and didn't answer, but nor did she break his gaze. They were standing close together now, and staring hard at each other. It was strange. The inspector had thick, black hair, a dark complexion, and yet such light blue eyes... Under different circumstances, Eponine thought that she might've found him handsome.

But circumstances weren't different. She was still struggling to break free of him with all her strength, and he was still restraining her with that grip around her arm. She was struggling so fiercely that she wondered why he hadn't yet struck her or punched her. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered and strong, and a single blow from him would've taken all the fight of her... and yet, he hadn't done it.

It was a jarring feeling when Eponine realized that this police inspector wasn't a man like her father. He didn't enjoy seeing others in pain. He would never hit a woman unless he absolutely had to.

"Don't be a fool, girl," Javert prompted. "You'll get a shorter sentence if you give me some useful information."

"Like fuck I will," she spat out before she could stop herself. For a second, she thought that he would finally hit her - he certainly looked angry enough to - but even then, he still didn't raise a hand to her. He did tighten his grip around her arm, though, so much that she nearly cried out.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" he asked, and his voice wasn't soft anymore. It was practically a growl.

"In charm school," she answered, her voice bitter and sarcastic.

Javert said nothing more, but he turned, left the garden, and began to walk down the street towards the police station, dragging the girl along with him. He was wasting his time by questioning her. She wasn't going to tell him anything about her father and his gang, and he already knew exactly where she had learned to talk as she did. She had learned it in the gutter. She was from the gutter, too.

It was strange: even as Javert was hauling her down the street to be arrested, he felt that he understood this girl, somehow.

Eponine had been frightened by this fierce police inspector before, but when she realized that he was taking her to the police station, she felt pure panic. He was almost certainly going to arrest her and throw her in jail. He mustn't put her in jail. She couldn't go to jail. Eponine had seen enough gritty street life to know that not all policemen and prison guards were as... upright as this Javert seemed to be. There were too many policemen who had no qualms with using force on women. There were too many prison guards who took advantage of female prisoners. Gavroche always said that she was hard to scare, but the thought of going to jail terrified her.

But how could she escape? His grip on her arm was far too strong for her to break, and that frightened her, too. She knew that her father would lose his temper if he saw fresh bruises on her arm. It was strange for Eponine to think that; it made him seem protective of her, when he was really the opposite. He would be furious... but only because the bruises weren't his handiwork. She could hear him screaming now: "Eponine, tell me who put these bruises on you! These ain't from me! They're from Montparnasse, ain't they? Dammit, I'll fix him for this. I've told him I'm the only one who gets to bruise up my daughter."

She closed her eyes briefly, to block out her father's voice in her head. Think, Eponine, she urged herself. You've gotten out of worse scrapes than this before. And then, suddenly, the perfect escape plan came to her. She couldn't get away from Javert by fighting him... but she could do the opposite.

Eponine opened her eyes again and looked at Javert. She wasn't afraid anymore, but she made to sound afraid when she begged frantically, "No... no, please, don't put me in jail, sir, please. I... I'll tell you what other names my father goes by."

But as if he knew that she was lying, Javert kept walking and didn't even glance at her. Eponine had to get him to look at her again for her plan to work. She decided to try a different tactic. "I... I'll tell you where to find Montparnasse."

That got his attention. Catching Montparnasse, her father's right-hand man, the last notorious leader of the Patron-Minette gang, would be quite the feather in his inspector's hat. Javert looked skeptical, but he stopped walking and turned to face her again, still holding her arm too tightly, and Eponine seized her chance. She moved so quickly that Javert didn't even have time to react. She stepped towards him, closing the distance between them, and rose to her tiptoes, pressing her small breasts against his broad chest. She closed her eyes and kissed him full on the mouth.

It worked. Javert was so startled that he jerked back from her, and his grip around her arm vanished, which was all that Eponine needed to make her getaway. In no time at all, she turned and ran away full-speed, and Javert was so shocked that he could only stand there, with his mouth actually hanging open a bit, for several minutes.

By the time he came to senses and thought to run after her, it was too late. He wouldn't be able to catch up with her by now, even if he knew which way she had gone. Javert was furious with himself. He could not believe that he had let the girl get away. He certainly could not believe that she had actually kissed him - not a quick little peck at all, but a warm, sensual kiss, with her body pressed almost obscenely against his. He could not believe that he'd just stood there, gaping like a fool, instead of running after her. She was probably having a good laugh over this now, wherever she was.

That she, a common gamine from the streets, a beggar-girl with two criminals for parents, had actually dared to kiss him, a police inspector, an officer of the law... by God, he if ever came across her her again...

Javert took a deep breath and rubbed one hand hard across his mouth, brushing away the lingering feeling of the girl's lips. He took off his hat and wiped away the beads of sweat that seemed to have appeared on his brow, even though it wasn't a warm evening.

He should thank God that at least this had happened at night, on a dark, deserted street, with no one around to witness it and make him feel more foolish than he already did. Javert decided that he would simply return to the police station and write in his report that Montparnasse and Jondrette's older daughter - he realized with a jolt that he didn't even know her first name - had evaded him during the raid on the Gorbeau House. That was the truth, after all. There was no need to mention this... incident. There was no need for him to ever think about it again.

And yet, as he rubbed his hand across his mouth again, Javert had a suspicion that try as he might, he would not be able to stop thinking about it.

FIN