Chapter Text
Jean Valjean had had many names over the years.
For years, Javert had cursed the many aliases. Every name seemed to rouse the image of a different man: Madeleine was a gentleman and a saint, Jean le Cric a dangerous monster. It had been hard for Javert to navigate between those extremes, never knowing exactly who he was facing whenever they had confronted each other. It had gotten only more difficult to track his quarry when the man had taken on further new names after coming to Paris. The Beggar Who Gives Alms, Monsieur LeBlanc or whatever that snivelling student had called him… And those were not even the aliases Valjean used for himself.
But after a particularly faithful – and very wet - night in June, Javert had learned the benefits of Valjean’s aptitude to answer to different names. He had even come to appreciate it. As a spy, Javert was trained to use code words. The use of a specific word in a specific situation could tell volumes to those who knew what its significance was. Instinctively, he had begun to use the names he called his unlikely lover in a similar fashion.
In public, of course, Javert would address him as Fauchelevent. That was after all the name stated on Valjean’s false papers. It was the name Javert liked least, because he kept tripping over the pronunciation. He often forgot it, too, which could be quite embarrassing. No, if the situation allowed it, he much preferred to address Valjean as ‘M’sieur’ whenever they were in public. It was polite, proper and gave nothing away about their relationship. It was a good name, especially since Valjean had taken to interpret the slightly informal pronunciation as a term of endearment. Javert had taken to using it as such.
But as soon as they got home, those names were left by the door. Between themselves Javert had a whole range of different names for Valjean, although there were a few he was more partial to than others.
When they first lived together, it had seemed logical to call him ‘Valjean’ and be done with it. However, as their relationship progressed to what Cosette had termed ‘a married couple’, Javert had come to reserve that name for moments of extreme irritation. Bellowing it at full force made for a terrific resonance and one very nervous Valjean. Javert swore he’d never tell Valjean just how adorable the man looked in those moments.
True to the ‘married couple’ analogy, Valjean could be awfully fussy about little things. Especially just before any visit from Cosette and her husband, he would lecture Javert about what to say and what most definitely not to say. Or do. Or imply. The first time around, Javert had listened. The second time he had rolled his eyes. The third time, he’d clipped a formal ‘Oui, Monsieur le Maire’ while snapping to attention. Valjean had gawked at that before bursting out in laughter. Since then, Monsieur le Maire knew to leave well enough alone when Javert addressed him as such.
There were so many other names he might use to address the man he loved, but when they were close enough to touch, Javert would always call him by his Christian name. Divested of all those different aliases, ‘Jean’ was pure and uncomplicated; the only viably real name his lover had. It made the man unspeakably vulnerable, which was why Javert preferred to whisper it, treating it as the symbol of trust that it was. What he had done to earn that trust, he would never know. He only knew he would not betray it.
And because of that silent vow, there was one name in his arsenal that would remain unused for the rest of their days. It wasn’t even a name as such, but rather a cruel sound that was meant to take its place.
Yet sometimes, when they were in the master bedroom and his lover drove into him with all the ferocity of his inhuman strength, Javert felt himself slip. He always caught the sound before more than the first syllable could cross his lips, but even so it was a very fortunate thing that in the throes of passion, ‘deux’ and ‘Dieu’ sounded almost alike.