A/N: So this is my first Les Miserables fic. Not the first I've written, actually I have a much longer piece I'm in the process of revising, but this is the first I'm posting here. The inspiration for this story actually came from Ani-maniac494's Avenger's story "Twenty Pieces of Silver", which was inspired by the biblical story of Joseph and how he was sold by brothers into slavery, and my own studies of the book of Luke.

Inspector Javert has sort of snuck up on me and quickly become my favorite character in Les Mis and so this story turned out about him. Of course Valjean is there (he is a close second to Javert in terms of my favorite character), in the disguise of Mayor Madeleine, and a few other surprise characters. Since it was the 2012 Movie-Musical that introduced me to Les Miserables, I tend to pictures those actors and actresses for the characters, but I know they differ from book appearances. Hopefully, that won't be too confusing.

So what is this story? Its a story based on a biblical parable that Jesus tells to the Pharisees. In my Bible study group weeks ago, we read this passage and discussed the excuses used by the guests who did not attend the banquet when the Host declared it ready and how utterly ridiculous the excuses were. The man having bought land, for example and saying he can't come because he has to go see it. Well, he was a fool if he bought the land without looking at it first! Especially in those times. An idea began to grow and I started writing and this story was born.

Ani-maniac, bless her, beta'd read this despite not being familiar with the fandom except what I told her. Thank you so much, girl!

A/N 2: I would like to dedicate this story to my Lord Jesus Christ and thank Him for His amazing grace and mercy.

Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly. I'm just playing in Hugo's sandbox.

The Great Banquet

by Noelani618

Summary: AU where Mayor Madeleine hosts a large feast one day and lives are changed in surprising ways.

Javert wondered where the bourgeois summoned the gall to snub the mayor of Montrieul-sur-mer. What idiocy had them making these ridiculous excuses? Judging by the expression on the messenger's face, he was just as surprised. But the boy did not linger, moving on quickly to the next house and the next to announce that the banquet was prepared and waiting. Javert followed the boy to every house, listened to every excuse.

"I am just married," said one. "I cannot attend. Please give the mayor my apologies."

Yet another said, "I cannot go. The mayor will understand I'm sure. I recently bought property in the farm country and must leave this afternoon to inspect it."

What buffoon bought land without first looking at it?

He scowled fiercely, following the messenger as he moved on to the next house.

Javert recalled his shock when the mayor announced his intention to hold a banquet in the old residence next to the current hospital. The building had been in dreadful condition, certainly not fit for a banquet and numerous guests. But Madeleine was a very determined and patient man. He had set the date for the celebration just over a year from the day he made the declaration. As was expected, he invited all those of influence and wealth, and even many who were not. Then construction began. As the year passed, the house was refurbished to its former splendor and food stored and prepared. Throughout the year, the project had been the talk of the town. Gossip ranged from wonder to disbelief, to disapproval; the excitement of the promised celebration stirring the people. And the day of the feast was finally here! It made the refusals to attend even more confusing.

Finally, the messenger trudged back toward the banquet hall. The boy paused as he passed the inspector.

"No one is coming." The boy's thin shoulders were slumped, a dazed expression on his face.

"They are fools," Javert spat. He had seen the grandeur of the house, smelled the food as it cooked. When Madeleine had invited him a year ago he had declined, stating he would be working to protect the guests' homes from burglary. But at this time there were no guests. What now?

He walked with the boy back to the house. The wave of heavenly smells washed over him before even nearing the gate; sweet and hot and spicy and fresh. He stopped, taking it all in. Without warning his stomach growled, reminding him he had not eaten since yesterday. Mayor Madeleine was speaking with the messenger when he managed to get ahold of himself. He stepped forward as he saw the mayor's usually benign countenance morph into anger as the boy relayed the responses of the invited guests.

"Monsieur le mayor." He doffed his hat.

"Javert," Madeleine acknowledged crisply. He turned back to the boy. "Go out into the streets and invite all the poor; the street urchins, the infirm, the laborers, and the prostitutes. Tell them they are all welcome here."

The boy obeyed immediately.

Javert stared at his superior in horror. "Why would you invite them in?"

Mayor Madeleine leveled a stern look at him. "Why should I not? Those that I invited first have refused to come when they have known about this feast for over a year. Are those not the ones considered righteous?"

"Yes, monsieur," Javert admitted. "Today they have not behaved as such, it is true."

"No more often than any other man. If they do not wish to attend then so be it."

Javert was surprised to hear Madeleine speak so. The mayor was normally patient to a near insane degree, soft spoken, but firm when he chose.

"But prostitutes, sir? They will only cause trouble if they come."

Madeleine's smile was appallingly serene. "No, Inspector. They will not."

Curse Madeleine and his charity! Did the man have no common sense? For as much has he grudgingly admired the older man, it was behavior such at this that made him think Madeleine was just a lucky fool. His thoughts must have been clear in his expression for the mayor asked, "Would you have all the food go to waste, Inspector?"

"No. But—"

"Then who should partake of it when those who received invitations and initially accepted have refused to come? To delay and invite those further abroad would result in the food spoiling."

"I will have my men stand guard."

"No, you will not."

"Monsieur Mayor!"

"This is a celebration, Javert. The police are off duty. At the very least they will not be working the whole time. You and your men are welcome here as guests, with their families if they have them."

Javert opened his mouth to argue when his stomach gave a loud grumble. Dismayed, Javert diverted his gaze to the ground, ears warming as he ground his teeth together. Of all times for his body to betray him, why now?

"Javert, when was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday," Javert muttered. He did not have the money to buy food until he was paid next week. He'd had a choice between logs for his fire and food; he chose the firewood. While the air still warm since it was summer, Javert knew that in the cold months ahead he would have difficulties acquiring firewood due to his long working hours. So he had developed a method to counter. It meant going hungry sometimes in the summer, but it was worth it during the bitter days of winter to have the fire to warm his small flat at night. Not that he was complaining. Mayor Madeleine had tried to give him a raise multiple times since he came to Montreuil. But Javert refused to accept the mayor's charity, especially after the recent affair with Champmathieu.

Mayor Madeleine made a noise of exclamation. Javert met the mayor's shocked gaze defiantly and continued with his previous argument. "If you insist on letting these people in, I will remain here as a deterrent to any crime at least." He gestured to the porch.

The mayor appeared to want to protest, but did not. "Very well, Javert."

The brief elation he felt at this concession quickly fell as Mayor Madeleine added firmly, "But you will do nothing more until you have eaten. Come."

It would do no good to protest or refuse. His stomach had betrayed his hunger.

Obediently, he followed the mayor inside. As he stepped into the ball room he froze.

Long oak tables were placed all along the walls. They were overflowing with food of every kind, size, and description. The air was even richer with the heady aromas, prompting another loud gurgle from his stomach. Javert had never seen so much food in his entire life.

In the center was a pair of long ground-low tables surrounded by velvet cushions designed for the guests to recline and dine like in the days of the Romans. That did not even touch on the splendor of the room itself. While not opulent or inlaid with gold or silver, there was a certain natural beauty in the sweeping marble pillars and detailed crown molding.

"Well!"

Mayor Madeleine was practically glowing with delight at Javert's shock.

"Monsieur, I—" Javert shook his head in wonder. And the mayor was inviting the filth of the streets in here? Just standing on the threshold made Javert feel filthy. And he had just had his uniform washed and pressed a week ago! He never felt more out of place.

"Please, help yourself, Inspector."

Then the mayor walked away. Javert watched him go, unable to summon speech or movement. Alone, he stood there, hat clasped numbly between his fingers. Help himself? How could he possibly…?

Gypsy half-breed! You do not belong here. What right do you have to touch this food?

He started backing up, a terrible trembling overtaking his hands.

"Careful, monsieur!"

Startled, he spun on his heel to find Mayor Madeleine's trusted housekeeper and cook, Mere Moreau, behind him carrying a full pitcher.

"Oh, Inspector Javert! Welcome." She smiled at him. She smiled. At. Him. He worked his jaw, trying to come up with a reply. Mere Moreau was not bothered, smoothly side-stepping around him to continue carrying the pitcher to one of the tables. The elderly woman pointed to the corner of the table. "Plates are there monsieur."

"I'm—that is to say, I will not be staying, Madame. I must eat quickly before the," his tongue stumbled, "guests arrive."

"As you wish, monsieur."

When he made no move to retrieve a plate, the woman paused in straightening the table.

"If you need to eat quickly, inspector, best fill a plate."

Javert knew she was right, but still could not move. Mere Moreau studied him and he felt his face warm.

"Perhaps monsieur would like me to fill a plate for him?"

He gave a jerky nod. "Please," he managed. There was no way he could choose between the foods.

Mere Moreau quickly and efficiently filled a plate with a variety of foods from the table. She presented it to Javert with a smile.

"Here, good monsieur. Eat your fill. There is plenty."

Javert accepted the plate gingerly. "Thank you," he managed, attention glued to the food. His mouth was watering and his stomach grumbled again, twisting in pained desire.

Mere Moreau patted his arm, an action that she undoubtedly would not have dared if Javert had been in full possession of himself. "You're welcome."

She bustled away. Wandering back towards the front door, Javert continued to stare at the plate in his hand, not moving to take a bite. The mayor was talking with the errand boy again, speaking too quietly for the inspector to hear. Not that he could over his stomach's increasingly loud complaints.

"Ah, Javert." Mayor Madeleine turned as the boy disappeared back outside. "How is the food?"

The police inspector looked between the plate and the mayor. "Monsieur, forgive me, but I—I cannot eat this. I am just an inspector of police."

"Just an inspector of police?" Madeleine's eyebrows rose. "You are a hardworking, honest, and upright man, Javert. As I have told you before, I hold you in high esteem. Why do you refuse to accept the food I offer?"

Realizing he had insulted his superior, Javert scrambled for an answer. "I mean no offense, sir! But this food is meant for your…guests."

Madeleine considered him, eyes seeming to penetrate to his very soul. It took all his self-control to not shuffle his feet. Alas, he could not maintain eye contact.

"You have made it clear you do not think those I have sent Edmond to bring back are not worthy. I wonder—do you also believe yourself unworthy?"

Yes.

How did the man know? Javert said nothing, knowing his lack of response made the answer clear enough. The mayor sighed and, to Javert's surprise, rested a sturdy hand on his shoulder and leaned in close.

"It does not matter whether or not you are worthy; whether the prostitutes or infirm or old are worthy. I have invited you to partake of my table. While you may not see your worth I do. I chose you, Javert, to be my guest as I have chosen to ask the unfortunate to come and feast with me. Do you begrudge me that right?"

"No." Javert was reeling from Mayor Madeleine's words, from the implication there. "But it's too much, sir!"

Not just the food, but the mayor's generosity; his kindness and compassion for the undeserving. He expected the mayor to scold him and order him to eat or turn away in exasperation. Madeleine did none of these things. Instead, he smiled like Javert's words brought him some great delight.

"Eat you fill, Javert. It is all right if you cannot finish it. Save it for tomorrow or share it with someone. The food is yours now. What you do with it is your choice."

Absurdly, the responsibility of deciding what to do with a plate of food rested heavier on his shoulders than any of his responsibilities as a policeman. How could this be? It was just food! No. No, it was more than food. It was a gift. Javert did not receive gifts. If he did he would most likely see them as a bribe. This was not a bribe. Madeleine gave him food because he—it made Javert cringe to even think—cared about the inspector. Care and affection were foreign emotions to the policeman. He had striven for almost his whole life to be free of emotions, to be above them. But here they were, confronting him and revealing the lie he had built in his heart.

"Inspector, would you please sit? I'm afraid I must step out a moment."

Stirred from his stupor, Javert's response was one of disbelief. "Monsieur?"

"Please sit." Madeleine directed the inspector to a chair just inside the entry way. Once Javert was seated, the mayor said; "I will not be long. Finish your meal before returning to your duties."

"Yes, Monsieur Mayor," Javert replied automatically.

The mayor sent one last stern look his way before departing.

Alone again, Javert returned his attention to the plate of food. Mere Moreau had filled it generously. There was a hot baguette, slices of roasted turkey, cheese, grapes, a few slices of pears, lettuce, and a crepe. Where to begin?

He decided on the baguette first. Picking it up between his fingers, he brought it to his mouth and took a small bite. It was hot and crunchy on the outside, but inside soft and spongy. And it was absolutely perfect. He took another bite. Somehow it was even better than the last. If the bread tasted that good…

By the time Mayor Madeleine returned, Javert was scraping the last of the crepe from his empty plate. He looked up as the mayor entered, guilt warring with the satisfaction he felt at having a full stomach. Madeleine beamed.

There was no time for words because coming in right behind Mayor Madeleine were the first guests.

Hours later, Javert was standing at the door keeping an ever watchful eye on the festivities.

Truly, once the first brave enough to come found the food and luxuries the mayor was freely offering, word spread among the destitute and wretched like wildfire. They came in droves, crowding the house with their presence. It did not matter their status or occupation or age. All were welcomed by Mayor Madeleine and invited to dine and join the dancing that had started when a few musicians began to play.

Javert had never seen anything like it.

He still kept a careful watch for those who would break the law, even during such a time as this. So far, there had only been a few suspicious characters, but they quickly took their leave.

Mayor Madeleine was the person Javert watched the closest of all. At times it was hard to keep track of the man in the chaos and crowd, but he was easy enough to find due to his height. Few men stood as tall and broad as M. Madeleine. The man was speaking with everyone; patient and kind and truly happy to have them all at his banquet. It seemed there was no end to the mayor's ability to astound him. For some time, it had been whispered on the streets that M. Madeleine was a saint; a man of mercy. Javert used to scoff, used to be annoyed by the mayor's charity and mercy—still was from time to time—but he could not deny the truth of the matter having been granted a reprieve himself when he was grossly undeserving.

He returned his penetrating gaze to the outside. The stars were shining bright in the night sky.

A man strutting up the walkway caught his attention. He lip curled in a snarl. Bamatabois! The greedy aristocrat who declined to come to earlier today to the banquet because he had to check recently acquired land. Apparently he found he no longer needed his excuse.

Bamatabois was about to step on the threshold when Javert blocked his path.

"Excuse me, Inspector, but I was invited to this party. Let me pass."

"Surely you must be off to examine that land you bought, monsieur. Was not that the excuse you gave to the mayor's messenger?" He wondered, baring his teeth like a vicious wolf protecting its den.

Predictably the man sputtered. "I do not see how that is any business of yours. I am here now. Stand aside!"

Javert crossed his arms across his chest, lowering his head as he narrowed his gaze, feet firmly planted. Furious, Bamatabois swore and again ordered him to move. But the man did not dare approach the policeman or push him aside. To do so would grant Javert the right to immediately arrest him. It amused Javert greatly. If the man kept making a hullabaloo, he would arrest him anyway for disturbing the peace. The thought filled him with a savage satisfaction.

"What is going on?"

"Oh, Monsieur Mayor, thank heavens! This man refuses to let me in. He is being most rude and obstinate."

It was Javert's turn to swear, though silently. While it was not surprising that the mayor noticed the disturbance, Javert had hoped to avoid his interference. Now the mayor's excessive charity would allow this pig in. His jaw clenched.

"Why are you here, Monsieur Bamatabois?"

"Why? You invited me, Monsieur Mayor!" The stout man cried, face flushing even more.

"Did I? Then surely you would have come when I sent my messenger."

"I, ah, I couldn't come, Monsieur Mayor. I had to see to my land, sir. You must understand!"

"All my guests, save two, are here, monsieur. You may go."

Javert's head snapped around. Had the mayor really refused to let the man in?

Bamatabois seemed just as taken aback. "But—"

"Go," Madeleine commanded, brooking no further argument. For a moment the genial mayor was gone and a formidable man stood in his place. It was a transformation Javert had only seen once; the night the mayor ordered him to release the woman of the night, Fantine. He had kept it hidden, but the mayor's severity had alarmed him. He did not envy Bamatabois.

The aristocrat blanched, taking a step back, before his face purpled in rage. Javert wondered if Bamatabois' face would pop like a squeezed grape. With a cry, the pudgy gentleman stormed away.

Mayor Madeleine watched him go, expression inscrutable. Javert studied the mayor in turn, trying to understand the enigmatic man. Would Madeleine ever make sense?

"Javert, do you know all those who received invitations a year ago?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Do not let any of them or their families in."

"Yes, Monsieur Mayor." Javert was startled at the order. Those aristocrats who refused to come earlier made their choice. Madeleine had every right to refuse them now. What made it astonishing was that Madeleine gave the order of all.

"Monsieur le Mayor," He said, stopping the older man as he turned to go back inside. "Why?"

It was impertinent to question his superior, but Javert had to know why the mayor had deviated from the behavior he'd come to expect. Mayor Madeleine regarded him gravely.

"They have known for a year about the celebration and yet when I sent word everything was prepared, they refused to come. These people," Madeleine gestured to the destitute singing and dancing inside, "knew as well and were not initially invited. They would have come when I sent word the banquet was prepared. What was previously denied them, they hold far dearer than those who had the right first. Those who refused have lost the privilege of being part of this evening."

Oh. Javert twisted his cudgel in his hand, considering this. He had always seen the mayor as too merciful, charitable to a fault, but he had never considered him just. But this...this was justice.

"Understood."

Madeleine started to leave, but Javert stopped him again. "Sir?"

Bemused, Madeleine asked; "What is it, Javert?"

"You said there are two guests not here yet. Who are they?"

The lines around the mayor's eyes and mouth deepened as his expression lifted. "Indeed. I am still expecting Mademoiselle Fantine and her daughter, Cosette."

Javert tried not to blanch. Fantine? She was still in the hospital, wasn't she? How could she possibly come? To make it worse, the harlot would be bringing the child she had out of wedlock? How could he possibly cross paths with the wretch and her child? Javert had never wanted to see her again unless it was to put her in prison where she belonged.

"Calm yourself, Inspector."

He snapped to attention at Madeleine's frosty tone. The mayor's regard had cooled, disappointment flickering on his face. A swell of unexpected shame curdled Javert's stomach. Lowering his head, he said nothing.

Madeleine sighed. "I know you and I disagreed about Mademoiselle Fantine's actions and her fate. But what is done is done, Inspector."

"She should not be allowed in."

"Just as you felt you should not have been?"

Javert rocked back, feeling as if he had been slapped.

"Fantine and her child are my guests, as surely as they," Madeleine waved back inside where the people were beginning another dance, "and as surely as you are. Are they any different from those already here?"

Circumstantially, no, Fantine was just like any other prostitute present. Yet she was also different.

If it were not for that woman and her inability to hold her temper when an idiot aristocrat crossed her path, he would not have arrested her. He would not have been humiliated by the mayor and his authority usurped. Then he would not have sent that letter to the Prefect of Paris in a fit of anger. He would not have been further humiliated by having to confess what he had done to the mayor when the Prefect replied that the Jean Valjean had been found and incarcerated weeks before. But his actions were his own, as were his suspicions. He was responsible for his failure and disrespect towards his superior. That was his shame to bear.

He had been wrong about the mayor. What if he was wrong about Fantine? The question had plagued him since the mayor refused to dismiss him. He had tried to bury it; refused to think on. The law was the law! Yet doubt and confusion lingered; two emotions so foreign to him that Javert chose to ignore them completely. Fantine's invitation to the banquet, however, meant he was about to come face to face with her for the first time since that night almost seven months ago.

"No, sir," he replied dutifully, keeping his face carefully blank, lifting his chin and focusing over Madeleine's shoulder. The mayor did not answer or move. Rigidly, Javert held his head high and refused to look at the man.

Finally, the mayor sighed and left him alone.

Javert stood rigid at his post, ruthlessly beating back the emotions Mayor Madeleine evoked earlier when he showed him the main hall. He was stone. Whatever emotions he felt were to be discarded as he attended his duty. What did it matter that he had been amazed and humbled to be inside the building? What did it matter that the food the mayor gave him was the best he had ever tasted? What did it matter that it was the same for every other person in attendance? It did not.

He was here to fulfill his duty.

It does not matter whether or not you are worthy; whether the prostitutes or infirm or old are worthy. I have invited you to partake of my table. While you may not see your worth I do. I chose you, Javert, to be my guest as I have chosen to ask the unfortunate to come and feast with me. Do you begrudge me that right?

He swallowed back a sudden assault of nausea. No! No, it didn't matter. He was here to perform his duty. Whatever lofty ideals Madeleine had, the old man could keep. The law did not forgive and neither did Javert.

He almost didn't recognize her as she approached. The sickly, grotesque woman had been transformed. Her hair was still shorn short, front teeth missing, and she was still quite thin and pale; yet Fantine looked like a new woman. She was smiling, hand firmly clasped around the smaller hand of a shy, but bright-eyed child.

Javert had only seen the child when Mayor Madeleine brought her to Montreuil. The child had been thin, bedraggled, and dirty. Where ever she had been staying, it was clear she had been treated abysmally. She had held Madeleine's hand tightly, absolutely trusting him as he guided her to the hospital and her sick mother. Four months later, the gaunt child was gone; replaced by a well-cared for and happy little girl. Her smile was as luminous as Fantine's.

They were dressed in simple, but beautiful gowns. No doubt gifts from Madeleine. Fantine walked with aid of a cane.

Unconsciously, Javert stepped back into the shadow of the pillar by the door. A terrible swell of emotion fisted around his lungs. His fingernails dug into his palms. Before his eyes, the prostitute had become a queen and her child a princess. It wasn't possible. Once one fell, it was a fall in flames with no recovery. She had fallen. He had seen it! He had seen her in her tattered red dress wearing the cheap make-up of the prostitutes. Yet here she stood, facing glowing with a joy he could have never imagined as she and Cosette carefully climbed the steps.

"Maman, I see Monsieur Madeleine!" the little girl cried excitedly, tugging against her mother's hand. "May I please go to him?"

Fantine made a strange sound; it reminded Javert of the bells from the cathedral. She was laughing.

"Yes, yes, my Cosette! He said you could."

With a smile and a wave of golden hair, the child hurried inside leaving her mother on the porch. Fantine smiled after her daughter, the love shining in her eyes.

Javert was having trouble breathing.

The woman paused on the threshold. He saw her bite her lip, fingers playing with the hem of her dress. For a moment she hunched over and a tear slipped down her cheek.

"Thank you, Lord, for your mercy. Thank you for Jesus whose blood washed me, a sinner, clean," she whispered.

Javert felt like someone had clubbed him. He staggered back, away from the once fallen woman and the bright doorway.

Fantine turned, alarmed. "Who's there?"

To Javert's shock, she stepped toward the shadowed column, squinting at the darkness.

"Inspector Javert?" She whispered, eyes widening in shock as she recognized the silhouette. Madeleine stepped out onto the porch with Cosette held in his arms.

"Fantine?"

Javert fled.

Luke 14:15-24

The Parable of the Great Banquet

15 When one of those at the table with him heard this, he said to Jesus, "Blessed is the one who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God."

16 Jesus replied: "A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. 17 At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, 'Come, for everything is now ready.'

18 "But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, 'I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.'

19 "Another said, 'I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I'm on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.'

20 "Still another said, 'I just got married, so I can't come.'

21 "The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, 'Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.'

22 "'Sir,' the servant said, 'what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.'

23 "Then the master told his servant, 'Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full. 24 I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet.'"

A/N: And this concludes part one of what I'm calling the Les Mis Parables series. :) I hope ya'll enjoyed it.

Please let me know what you think!