A Good Father

A piercing scream shattered the peace but Javert was not certain if that was what woke him up or the sudden jerk and loss of warmth. By the time he opened his eyes, Valjean was opening the door and practically flying down the hall to Cosette's room.

Cosette had had a lot of nightmares since coming to live with them. After what Valjean had barely managed to force out about the situation Cosette had been living in, it was not surprising. Valjean often said that he wished Javert had been there as well and seen it for himself and that then he was sure that Javert would have adored Cosette from the moment he saw her just like Valjean did.

Javert rather doubted that since Valjean had a long history of loving children and he himself had a long history of avoiding them when possible and not having anything to say to them. Still, Javert knew that however much he might mean to Valjean there was literally no way that Valjean would turn his back on Fantine's child even if he didn't love her as much as he did and so he just had to live with it.

And Cosette was not so bad as far as children went. She was very quiet and well-behaved and, yes, a great deal of that may have been from the suffering and abuse she had suffered at the hands of the Thénardier but it still made her easy to have around.

Except for times like this when she had a nightmare or had one of those strange reactions that Valjean sometimes had as well (though much less frequently and he had assured Javert that it would lessen in time for Cosette as well) but Valjean had thankfully taken dealing with that upon himself. Even if Javert volunteered, he highly doubted that Valjean would be able to bring himself to stay away.

He reluctantly got up and made his way down the hall. He could just wait for Valjean to come back and a large part of him wanted to but he had somehow ended up being responsible for Cosette as well and so he should probably take an interest. He also didn't trust himself to stay awake at this hour lying in bed and he didn't want to be asleep when Valjean came back in case he needed comfort after dealing with his beloved daughter's demons.

When he got to Cosette's door, he stood at the edge of the room and watched the scene inside.

Cosette had flung her arms around Valjean's neck and had buried her face in his arm. He was rubbing circles on her back and whispering into her hair. Javert could not hear what was being said but he expected that it was the same sort of meaningless comfort that he usually offered. It seemed to be enough for Cosette though Javert personally would not abide by it.

Valjean knew better than to try such cheap tricks on him. If he was genuinely upset and turning to Valjean for comfort then he wanted a little more effort than something like 'everything will be okay' or 'I love you' or whatever else Valjean was telling her. He wasn't a child who that would work on like Cosette.

He didn't even know if it would have ever worked on him as a child but he liked to think that it wouldn't though he couldn't say for sure. His childhood never had a figure like Valjean to come running when he cried and chase away the nightmares.

A figure like Valjean. Who would have ever thought that a convict could know anything about raising a child or at least make it up so well? Javert certainly hadn't. His own convict father had spent his life in some prison or another and Javert had, as far as he knew, never met the man and he had always counted his blessings. It was better not to have any father at all than to have a convict make a mess of it.

But that clearly wasn't true for Cosette. She had been suffering for reasons that had nothing to do with not having a father (well, except for the fact that with a proper father she would not have been exposed to the Thénardiers in the first place) and now having Valjean was making her life better.

He had had a convict father that, had he watched over him the entire time he was a guard at Toulon, he would not have been able to recognize. Cosette's convict father was even now banishing her fears.

That was…he did not know what that was. It was good that Valjean's mad plan to raise the daughter of a near-stranger because he felt responsible for her poor life choices was going so well for them both but just the same…

What was it? Once more he was forced to ask himself that question.

Nineteen years in prison hardening his soul and turning him towards hatred and then one bishop was kind to him and suddenly he was going to turn his life around? He could not say that he approved of the bishop lying to the police to save Valjean but he could admit that the end result of Valjean going off to be a good person and help as many as he could was a lot more useful than him languishing in prison for the rest of his life. And since it was his silver in the first place, the bishop was well within his rights to give it to Valjean even if he gave it after Valjean had already absconded with it and his telling the police was the first that Valjean heard of it.

Why had Valjean been able to be the one convict to not just, at best, be meek and mild and accept his situation in life but to actively seek to improve the lives of everyone else? If Jean Valjean could do it then why couldn't everybody else? Why couldn't at least a few others? Surely someone treating a convict kindly was not such a singular occurrence that the Valjean was literally the only convict this had ever happened to!

Javert had wondered if Valjean had just not been a bad person to begin with and so it had not taken much for him to decide to go back to living a righteous life. If asked, he was sure that Valjean would agree that he had not been a bad person before Toulon but insist that he had actually been quite horrible while in there and after first being released. And it did seem rather unlikely that Valjean was the only good person who had ended up being arrested though perhaps they had not been sentenced so harshly. After all, he had looked at Valjean's case and – aside from him receiving the harshest sentence he could have gotten – there did not seem anything exceptional about it so as to render it unique.

He had tried asking Valjean and Valjean had not had any ideas as to why no one else had taken his path. He could not even really explain why he had chosen such a path in the first place.

Javert may have accepted that it was possible for convicts to become good people but that did not mean that he was any closer to understanding it than he ever was.

Valjean had pulled back and was smoothing Cosette's hair. He could not see Valjean's face but he was sure that he had the same gentle smile he always wore for Cosette.

"There is nothing to be afraid of anymore," Valjean promised her. "You are safe now and I will never let anyone hurt you."

"I know, Papa," Cosette assured him and she did sound certain. "I just sometimes don't remember when I'm sleeping."

"Well I will just have to keep reminding you until you no longer forget," Valjean said.

Cosette smiled. "I like that."

"Would you like me to tell you a story to help you go to sleep?" Valjean asked.

Cosette nodded and allowed herself to be tucked in.

Javert wondered vaguely what kind of story Valjean could possibly have to tell. He had had an assortment of nieces and nephews before Toulon but that was many years ago now.

"There was once a little girl named Cosette," Valjean began.

Cosette giggled. "That's my name!"

"So it is!" Valjean exclaimed, pretending to be astonished. "She lived with her two fathers who loved her very much."

Javert scoffed inwardly but did not say anything. That was ridiculous. To begin with, that would make him one of Cosette's fathers and he was pointedly resisting Valjean's efforts to make him take that role and who ever heard of someone having two fathers anyway? He could at least have been made an uncle or something.

"One day, she decided that she wanted to go have lunch outside somewhere beautiful. The servant helped her pack food and she went off to go look for a nice place to have her lunch," Valjean continued.

It was a ridiculous tale, truly, but Cosette seemed to like it. Javert was just grateful that he had not been asked to tell any such story. He did not think much of Valjean's efforts but he somehow thought that his own would have been worse.

As Valjean went on, Cosette struggled to stay awake but it was clear that she was getting tired. When her eyes finally shut for good and her breathing evened out, Valjean finished his sentence, said 'The end' and kissed her on the forehead before standing up.

It was ridiculous. It was all so very ridiculous whether they made Cosette happy or not. And to think that one convict could have given that to her while another – while all others – could not or would not.

Jean Valjean was not Javert's father. He meant that in that the two were obviously completely different men and that this man before him did not serve in a fatherly role for him like he had adopted with Cosette. It would be ridiculous if he had since their ages were far too close to make that feasible. Perhaps a child could look to someone only ten years or so older than him in a fatherly way but at their ages it was really absurd.

And he did not want Valjean as a father. He had long outgrown any need he might have once had for such things and he preferred Valjean to serve a rather different role in his life.

So why was it that it was so difficult to watch Valjean play father to this girl? Why was it that it was impossible to stay away? Why could he never bring himself to insert himself in these situations?

It gave him a headache to think about.

Valjean had picked up the candle and led the way into the hall. Javert silently followed him as they made their way back to their room.

"Is everything alright, Javert?" Valjean asked quietly once they were safely back in bed.

Javert nodded. Of course it was. Why wouldn't it be?

But Valjean was still looking at him expectantly.

"I was just thinking…" Javert trailed off, his throat oddly thick.

"Yes?" Valjean asked, smiling encouragingly.

"You really are a wonderful father."

Valjean's face transformed then into a look that largely resembled the sort of blissful look he got on his face when Cosette showed her affection for him. This time it was Javert who put it on his face and he wished idly that he could do that more often.

Instead he kissed him and resolved to put such foolish thoughts out of his mind.

He may have never been fortunate enough to have had a father in any way that mattered – not even a bad one! – but this was better and he would not trade the one for the other if he could.