Epilogue

Valjean´s funeral was held on an early morning, still cold, the graveyard covered by a dome of mist, hanging over all those mourners like the hand of God himself. As if God didn´t want a sound to escape from this place, not before the time was right.

Cosette and her husband stood in the front of course, as the coffin was lowered down into the grave. So final. So unchangeable. And the girl tried to be brave in front of everyone. It was Marius who spoke the last words to honor this man. A man who gave absolutely everything for others. A man who saved his life, who gave him his beloved wife, who made it possible that they´d have a future. And no one around would ever doubt any of this.

Not even Javert. Not even though he knew the truth. A truth that went deeper than any of those would ever guess. And he knew it all.

He knew the pain. To watch from far away, while the living were gathered to say their goodbyes. He knew better than anyone that Valjean was dead and that no one would ever bring him back to life. And that he was the reason. That Valjean and his beloved daughter would never meet again, never speak again, never hold each other or make each other laugh again. That this man she now called her husband would never be enough to fill the emptiness his loss left in her, no matter how much he loved her and how much she loved him back.

But he also knew that the pain would go away. In time it would go away, and allow them to move on with their lives. Lives that were real, and full of hope and possibilities. Lives that had a future and just as much joy as they wanted and deserved, for themselves and their children and children´s children. He knew that in time the pain would be forgotten, not gone but turned into something they could use to build a ground, to construct a future upon. And this way, maybe even in death, Valjean would have done something for the people he left behind. Something no one else would have been able to do. Ever.

Yes, Javert knew. He knew that this was true. And as he turned, ready to leave at last, he saw it all again. The streets of Paris, filled with people, who one day would have a future, if they only want it enough. Streets that were filled with blood not too long ago, blood of young men, who wanted to bring down the world with their passion and ended up as students of law and medicine, shot to death by a force too strong for them.

He saw the face of a young girl, not too different from a certain orphan Jean Valjean once saved and brought home, to have a life of her own. He saw the gate of Paris, the same gate where he once lost track of Valjean and this very girl. And if this would be a book, this would be the last page to quickly finish, before you close it and put it back on the shelf. Maybe to be forgotten. Maybe to stay with you for a long time. Because somewhere along those pages there had been something that grabbed you, stronger than you expected. Just the way Valjean had grabbed him, even if he didn´t want to allow it.

Yes, it was time. Time to leave. And to never return. Because this was the way things were meant to be. An ending that could never be a real ending. Because in the great scheme of things, something Javert had never believed in until today, things never really ended. The road lay ahead of them and even though Javert knew he shouldn´t, he felt grateful. Grateful that for the first time in his life, he wouldn´t have to take this road alone. He still didn´t know how he deserved it. But he knew it was true.

Valjean would mourn his life. He knew that too. For a long time he´d wish that he could return to his daughter, and let her know that everything is all right. Until one day, he´d move on too. Knowing, just as Javert knew, that sometimes there simply was no way back.

Leaving was never easy. But if you did it without looking back, it got bearable.

One day, he thought. One day, they might be able to forget, and look ahead. And maybe then, if they just hope enough, believe enough, and support each other enough in this struggle to a future none of them knows anything about … then maybe one day, even two men as dead as they were could have a life again.

This was what Javert sometimes thought about at night, when he couldn´t sleep and looked up at the bright stars. Nights in which he was standing alone, but not lonely anymore. Nights in which he almost remembered, how this story once began. Once upon a time …