Chapter Twenty-Two

Javert had not intended to go and see Cosette while her father was gone but, as it turned out, he had not had to. Instead, the very day that Madeleine left, she had turned up at the station. She waited until he had a moment to focus his attention on her and was very quiet but just the fact that he knew she was there meant that it was inordinately difficult to focus on his work.

And then she came back the next day and the next day and the next.

By now, he had realized that she was going to keep coming back every day until Madeleine returned. He could tell her not to but Madeleine had asked that he consider looking in on Cosette and so would probably not appreciate if he sent her away.

"What are you doing?" Cosette asked when he finally glanced over at her. He would not admit to be a little concerned when she arrived nearly half an hour later than she normally did that day.

"Paperwork."

Cosette laughed. "What kind of paperwork?"

Now, he could be very narrow and literal in his answers but he knew from experience that she would not stop asking him until she got the answers she was looking for.

"Jean Croix says that his dinner, which he set by the open window waiting for it to cool, was stolen last night and wants me to investigate," Javert told her.

Cosette frowned. "Is that all? Just his dinner?"

"Food is very important to some people and theft is theft," Javert said severely, wishing that Madeleine were more willing to teach her proper deference for the law instead of flouting it whenever he met a criminal he found sympathetic.

Cosette nodded, looking suddenly older. "I know that. But is this Monsieur Croix that poor that losing one meal will ruin him or make him go hungry?"

"No," Javert admitted. "But theft is theft and we cannot let people get away with such things."

"Even if they were starving themselves and that might have saved their life?" Cosette asked.

"Even then," Javert said, biting back yet another lecture about the importance of the law. She had heard it all before, mostly from him, but he did so wonder at what Madeleine was teaching her. Or perhaps she learned it from the Thénardiers or inherited a disrespect from the law from her prostitute mother or whoever her father turned out to be. Madeleine's strange and frankly sometimes incomprehensible approach to these matters certainly wasn't helping in any event.

"But how can you possibly find out who reached through an open window, took something, and left?" Cosette asked sensibly. "It's food so you can't even look for it."

"That is a good point," Javert allowed. "I rather doubt I will be able to find out but it must still be investigated. Perhaps someone will have seen something. And if not, it is not as though there are serious crimes being committed on a regular bases here in Montreuil so I have the time to devote to this crime even if the investigation goes nowhere."

"It's good that Montreuil is safe," Cosette decided.

"It is," Javert agreed. "But in order to keep it safe we must enforce the laws and that means that we must hunt down all of the criminals no matter what their crime."

"If you find whoever stole the food, will he get in a lot of trouble?" Cosette asked curiously, biting her lip.

"What do you mean by 'a lot of trouble'? He will go to jail, certainly."

"That man you told me about. He had five years when he stole a little bit of food," Cosette said.

"Jean Valjean." One of these days he'd be able to forget about that man but with all the years he'd spent half-mad and suspecting Madeleine he suspected it would not be until he was transferred elsewhere. "That is different. He broke a window there and here the window was just left open. And the full weight of his possible sentence was assigned and magistrates often interpret the law a little more leniently. No, this dinner thief is not in for five years."

"That's good," Cosette said.

"You're so sympathetic towards a thief!" Javert exclaimed. "What if it were your food?"

"But it's not."

"But imagine that it was," Javert said. Cosette knew exactly what he was trying to get at but sometimes she got difficult like this and he never really understood it and of course she wouldn't explain. Madeleine thought she really didn't understand but he was too blinded where that girl was concerned.

"It's not," Cosette insisted.

Javert gave her a long-suffering look. "Cosette."

Cosette shrugged. "They would not have to steal from us. We help everybody we meet who needs aid."

"It's one thing to give charity to others but surely you would not wish for them to just outright take things from you," Javert argued, realizing that – despite his best efforts – he was once more arguing with a child. It was a little less frustrating than arguing with her father.

Cosette gave another little shrug. "Papa says that if someone steals something from you that you would have given them anyway if they asked then it's not stealing because it's just giving them a gift they didn't know they had."

There was really nothing that Javert trusted himself to say to that so he simply closed his eyes.

After a few minutes, Cosette said in a quiet voice, "I miss Papa."

What was he supposed to say to that? What did he know of such things? He had never met his father and he never wanted to. And he certainly couldn't say that he missed his fortune teller of a mother who had saddled him with such a heavy burden and no choice but to be a criminal or an upholder of the law. And while he did genuinely enjoy his work and having a place in this world, it might have been nice if he had ever had any choice about it. Yes, he supposed that he had chosen guard over convict but he had seen convicts. He knew what they were, how they lived, what they were worth. How could any sane man choose otherwise?

He wondered, vaguely, what else he could have ever been. He had known for so long that he had only two paths open to him that he couldn't even begin to imagine what else he could have been if things had been different. But that was the point about things being different, wasn't it? Depending on how different they were he could have been anything or anyone. Maybe he could have even had a family if his parents had had an ounce of decency in them.

But such things were not to be and Cosette, despite her prostitute mother, was evidently not to be burdened with that same dichotomy.

"Yes, well, he'll be back soon enough," he said gruffly.

Valjean had left Toulon in somewhat of a daze and hadn't wanted to be shut back up in the carriage again so soon even if his only alternative was to wander the streets of Toulon. Despite escaping the prison unscathed and, more importantly, mostly unrecognized, he wasn't eager to try his luck with the townspeople. A few spoke to him as he walked along and he answered them mechanically and that seemed to satisfy them.

No one knew him.

He had spent nineteen years in this place and they had all forgotten. Or rather, they had their own ideas about who he was and couldn't see him standing there even after he had confessed. That was…it was good, in a way, since it meant that he had successfully changed and he did not have to go back to Toulon but then it was not fair to Champmathieu (to put it mildly!) and he didn't like the feeling of disappearing. It reminded him too much of the past and how he had disappeared from his family's life and then they had disappeared in turn and could not be found dead or alive.

He was like a ghost here and yearned to return to the solidness and the warmth of Montreuil and Cosette.

When he was deposited in front of his home, Javert – who must have been alerted when he was spotted entering town – was waiting for him.

"Javert," Valjean greeted him, friendly enough, for all he wanted to do was push past him and go and see his daughter.

Javert removed his hat. "Monsieur le Maire."

"Is everything quite alright?"

Javert nodded. "Oh, yes. There were some minor crimes committed in your absence, of course, but I do not think that your absence was what encouraged them and they have all been dealt with about as well as could be expected."

"That's good," Valjean said slowly, sincerely hoping that Javert was not about to start giving his report right now in front of Valjean's home. Something occurred to him. "Oh, did you stop in and see Cosette like I asked you to?"

Javert got a strange look on his face. "Not exactly."

Valjean's brow furrowed. "How can you 'not exactly' do what I asked? Either you did or you didn't."

"I did not have to," Javert explained. "Cosette came to see me. Every day while you were gone."

"You did not have to?" Valjean repeated. "Were you going to if she hadn't?"

"No."

How very like Javert.

"She has somehow gotten some very strange ideas into her head about crime," Javert said, almost accusingly.

"Is that so?" Valjean asked, amused. "How strange."

"Do you think so?" Javert asked rhetorically.

"I do hope that when she came by she did not disturb you," Valjean told him, ignoring the question. They debated the question often enough as it was even though he knew that he would never change his mind and some days it felt like Javert would be somehow less likely to change his. "Every day, was it? My apologies, Inspector. I know she likes to visit you at work but that seems a little excessive."

Javert hesitated. "It…was not a problem. I was still able to get all of my work done. I am glad that with you returned she will come by less often as it could conceivably eventually be a problem but you were not gone that long."

Valjean vaguely wondered, as he often did, whether there was a kernel of affection for Cosette buried somewhere in there or if Javert was just literally not bothered by her presence and was able to complete his work. He never could tell what was there or what Javert would not admit to or what his admittedly biased eye liked to see. He would probably never know but all that mattered was that Cosette did not think that Javert did not like her or was indifferent to her if she wanted him to like her.

"You believe she will come by less often now that I am back?" Valjean asked rhetorically, almost smiling. "After you tolerated her presence and perhaps even encouraged her all this time maybe she will want to keep coming to visit you." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "She doesn't think your paperwork is terribly interesting."

"Well 'interesting' or not, it is necessary," Javert replied. "And I think her visits will cut down. After all, every time she came she ended up talking about how much she missed you."

The guilt for putting Cosette through that when he knew how she felt about being left behind (even left behind in a far better place than she had been before) was overwhelmed by the warmth that flooded through him at how much Cosette had missed him. He was certain that she couldn't miss him any more than he had missed her because his journey had been more draining than life in Montreuil and he didn't think it was possible to miss anyone more than he missed Cosette but perhaps she missed him a comparable amount.

Javert shook his head.

"What?" Valjean asked self-consciously.

"They all get that look in the end," Javert explained.

"What look?" Valjean asked, tensing slightly. He reminded himself that the next words out of Javert's mouth were not going to include the word 'convict' but some fears died hard. At least he could tell himself those words now and even half-way believe them.

"Fathers," Javert said.

Valjean smiled. He had been called a lot of things in his life, some his choice and others not so much, but being known as Cosette's father was by far his favorite title. Suddenly he couldn't bear to be apart from her for one more minute.

"Have a good evening, Inspector," Valjean told him, pleased to find that he meant those words.

Javert nodded at him. "And you, Monsieur."

"I'm sure Cosette will be around to invite you to dinner soon."

"I really am quite busy and that is not necessary," Javert said as he always did which somehow always ended up meaning yes in the end.

"As you say, Javert," Valjean said before turning his back and entering the house.

How long had it been before he had felt comfortable turning his back on Javert? Oh, he had had to do it many a time back when Javert had suspected him back before the confrontation over Fantine but trying to appear as guilt-free and unsuspicious as possible had never come easily.

Some change was good.

Valjean had barely shut the door when he heard feet bounding down the stairs and saw Cosette racing towards him, a look of pure delight on her face. He was sure that the expression on his own face was not much different. He quickly set his small bag down and scooped her up.

"Papa! You're back!" Cosette cried out.

"Yes, Cosette, I am back," Valjean agreed, closing his eyes and just breathing in the scent of her. With all the renewed guilt he felt over Champmathieu's dreadful fate (he had given up in a way that Valjean himself never quite managed to, even at the end, and he didn't even really understand what had happened) he needed this tangible reminder that there was still good that came from this mess.

Yes, of course his being able to stay in Montreuil and not having to go back to Toulon were very good things for him but they were more selfish good. The good he did for the town hadn't been enough to move him and even if saving Cosette made him happier than he had ever thought possible, he knew that it was not about him but about her. Saving Cosette was a very good thing indeed no matter what he got out of it and he knew that one day, however much it would kill him, if he needed to withdraw from her life at any reason then he would do it. That was how he knew that loving her was a pure and selfless thing, even if he was counting on Champmathieu's condemnation to ensure that that was never necessary.

It was difficult to keep thinking about him but he could never forget that name. He owed that wretched stranger too much for that.

"I missed you so much!" Cosette declared, throwing her arms out for emphasis and nearly smacking him in the nose.

Valjean chuckled and started to make his way upstairs. His bag he could always take up later.

"Did you miss me?" Cosette asked him earnestly.

Valjean was surprised by the question. "Of course I missed you! How could I not?"

Cosette thought about it for a minute before nodding decisively. "Of course you missed me. And of course I missed you. We're family and family misses each other."

"That they do," Valjean agreed. "Or should I say we do? Were you good for Madame Martin?"

"I am always good," Cosette said innocently.

"I'm sure Madame Martin will say the same thing when I ask," Valjean said tolerantly.

"You're going to ask?" Cosette asked, her eyes wide. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do," Valjean assured her. "I just like hearing about how good you were. I heard a little bit from Javert before I came inside."

"I was keeping him company," Cosette explained. "He's always by himself."

"Have you ever thought that he likes being by himself?" Valjean asked.

Cosette shrugged. "He hasn't made me go away so I think that means I can keep doing what I have been doing."

With some people you really needed to be more direct and not just quietly tolerate it and hope they understood what you weren't saying. Valjean would have mentioned that to Javert but he was honestly a little curious to see what was going to happen there.

"Did you do what you went away to do?" Cosette asked him.

Valjean set her down on the floor once they reached the top. "Yes, I did."

"You look sad," Cosette said shrewdly.

"I am, a little," Valjean admitted. "It was not an easy thing I had to do."

"And you won't tell me?"

"I'm sorry, Cosette, but some things are not for little girls to know," Valjean replied gently.

Cosette sighed but she did not protest. "Do you have to go back?"

Valjean shook his head. "No, I don't think that I will. Once was enough."

"Good. And you're not going to leave again?" Cosette asked hopefully.

Valjean smiled. For all the troubles and complications that he had faced and for all the highly unlikely events that led him to this place, he honestly couldn't imagine his life right now being any different than it was. His life now was good and worth living. "Not without taking you with me, I promise."

Cosette brightened back up at that. "Where you go, I go, too. I like the sound of that."

"I like the sound of that, too."

The End.