Chapter Text
It was a regular Tuesday for Inspector Javert. Work had been slow ever since the persecution of the gang leader that was causing havoc in Paris, much to Javert’s dismay as he enjoyed being busy and investigating crimes. Javert’s work was Javert’s life. On this fine Tuesday’s agenda, a theft at the local garden centre, Rue Plumet Jardinerie. Even though it was not an incredibly exciting case, it was still work, work which needed to be done. Javert would admit he had never stepped foot in a garden centre before, so this would be a brand-new experience for him, one that he felt he would never experience again, having no interest in plants.
Whenever Valjean opened shop on this Tuesday morning, he never expected his prized lemon tree, which he had pruned and cultivated to perfection, to be missing. Valjean, even though upset, did not wish to call the police and report this petty theft however whenever the workers arrived they persuaded him, or mostly, Eponine persuaded him.
Eponine, who Valjean viewed as one of his prodigies, was extremely upset at this theft. Perhaps because she had taken a liking to the plant, researching it’s kind. She was, after all, applying to study botany at university. Eponine was incredibly skilled at looking after plants and could be found after work hours, talking to them. She drawn in as a child by the colours but soon the science behind the plants caught her upmost attention.
It did not take much to persuade Valjean to call the police and when he did, he was not expecting what was to come from this call.
It did not take long for Javert to arrive to the garden centre as it was just around the corner from his office. As the inspector entered the shop, the smell of sweet sickly smell of flowers and damp cold soil filled his nostrils, making the man sniff. He cursed his allergies to pollen and approached the cashier’s desk to ask for the owner but just as he got there, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see an stocky old man who looked scruffy in a ripped woolly jumper. This man offered his hand to shake, a firm handshake from a clearly strong man. “Hello, you must be the inspector sent to investigate this awful, awful crime. I’m Jean Valjean, the owner here.” Valjean introduced himself and as he did so, Javert observed that for a man whose allegedly had a theft in his shop, this man did not look worried or panicked at all.
“What was the crime, Mr… Valjean? I was not informed in what was stolen? How much money? How much of your stock?” Javert questioned in his normal, cold professional tone. Valjean felt like he was under questioning himself even though the inspector was merely asking about the crime. Valjean had a dislike for the police after several experiences in his youth, experiences that not many know about, not even his own daughter, Cosette. Javert’s eyes were glaring into Valjean’s soul and with such eyes, Valjean felt like this inspector knew everything about him.
“Money? Stock? Oh no, Inspector. No money or stock was stolen. The only item that is missing is a lemon tree. My prized lemon tree!” Valjean exclaimed, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling in which this inspector made him feel. Javert scowled and begun to pace, preparing a lecture on wasting the police time as Valjean stood and watched, trying to explain himself; “I did not wish to call the police, inspector, but was persuaded and- “.
Javert cut in, interrupting the poor man mid-sentence, “a lemon tree. You called and reported a theft of a lemon tree? Do you know how busy and under pressure, the police department is under right at this moment? I am up to my eyeballs in important cases and you call to report a lemon tree missing!” It was a slight lie, Javert told as he was not busy at all however this inspector felt that his skills could go to better use than investigating a theft of a tree therefore he continued his lecture, “there is a law, you know, that makes wasting police time a crime. It hardly gets enforced but I would happily charge you right now for wasting my time. Do you have an office where we can discuss this ‘awful, awful crime’?” Javert wished to monologue for longer and he would have done if he did not want to get out of this place. It was humid and all the pollen in the air was making him feel sneezy. He hoped this crime would not take long to solve even if he had little other work to do, he did not wish to be there now. There was also something about this man that made Javert grow suspicious, the way he was holding himself, Valjean did not trust Javert and Javert knew it.
Javert followed Valjean into his office that was also filled with plants that Valjean started to water as he indicted the inspector to sit down. “You know, Javert, can I call you just Javert? I don’t want this to be so formal. I probably know who took the tree. See… I didn’t shut the shop last night. A new worker, Marius, did. He isn’t very good at this job. Maybe he somehow broke the plant and tried to hide the evidence. It was my prized tree, you see. He probably felt guilty, afraid of what I would do if I found out that he did something.” Valjean rambled on. He felt bad instantly for touting on the poor lad however if it got this inspector off his back, he would do anything.
Javert watched as Valjean lovingly looked after the plants, thanking the stars that the work was almost done already. “Oh, so you knew. But you still called the police? This Marius, do you wish me to speak to him? Charge him with theft or vandalism?”
Valjean shook his head, “No, no. There’s no need to charge the lad. Perhaps if you could speak to him and give him a firm slap on the wrist. That should do it.” The last thing Valjean wanted was a young man to be charged over such a petty crime. There was no need for that, he felt, although Javert felt differently.
“Excuse me, sir. You just wish me to talk to this boy? Who do you think the police are? Babysitters?” Javert rebuked, “I have to follow a line of procedure which naturally has an end, an end which ends with an arrest. Not a ‘slap on the wrist’. I am close to charging you, sir, with wasting my time. Is that all? May I leave? There are no other crimes you want to report, is there? A leaf from a shrub fall off? Do you wish me to ‘have a word’ with the wind as well?”
Valjean shook his head, “apologises, inspector, I never meant any harm reporting a crime, I assumed it would be the most suitable thing to do! I thought perhaps discipline was something the police force carried out. Creating model citizens and such.”
Javert sighed, he usually would not give in so easily however as he just wanted to get out this place, to finish this ridiculous business, he agreed to give a slap on the wrist and file the report as an accident. Just before departed Rue Plumet Jardinerie, he warned Valjean, “do not do anything like that again, Valjean. Remember me. Remember this warning.” And with this, Javert wrongly hoped to never set foot in a garden centre ever again.
Javert sat back at his desk after a gruelling ‘word’ with that boy Marius, which went exactly how he thought it would with the boy giving a confession. The agreement with Valjean also meant that there was no paperwork to be filed as it was no longer a official case. Still suspicious about the man he just met, Javert decided to fire up his computer and do a little bit of research on his new ‘acquaintance’. What he found, caused him to grow even more suspicious of the man. 40 years ago, Valjean was charged with theft but the charges were dropped. The man whom Javert was speaking to, was once a thief, or at least an almost convicted thief. The report did not specify the nature of the theft, but it claimed that he was let out because of lack of evidence. He could have stolen anything! He could still be up to anything and Javert thought it was just duty to find out.
Javert quickly decided that this was worth an investigation, so he set off and begun his research into Jean Valjean. He quickly learnt of his address and that he adopted a daughter, something the inspector thought was suspicious of an almost convicted criminal. He also learnt that he resided in Montreuil-Sur-Mer at the same time as Javert himself was completing his first official post. A post Javert thoroughly enjoyed. As a port town, there was a lot of attempted smuggling and no one got past Javert. He was good in Montreuil-Sur-Mer just as he was good here, if not better as he was at his prime.
But enough reminiscing about the past, Javert thought as he caught himself daydreaming. As he could usually do, he got straight back to his task at hand, investigating this man. The inspector could not find much on why Valjean moved to Paris. Javert felt as if it was an odd decision since Valjean seemed to be a well-respected member of the community. He carried out a lot of community work. Charity work. Almost a model citizen which made Javert wonder if the citizens knew of this man’s dark past. The man was even in the business council! But for some mysterious reason he escaped to Paris. Perhaps this was a clue. Perhaps the law was finally at his heels and he had to run. To Javert, his past was ringing alarm bells, alarm bells that he decided were worth his time to investigate.
Every Tuesday night was gym night for Valjean and his beloved daughter Cosette. They both loved this time to get together, work out and discuss their days and weeks. Cosette was never into gardening or plants, she was too heavy handed, but ever since she was little, she always wanted to lift weights and be as strong as her father. A sports girl, Cosette played for a small rugby team as well as a coach for an under 15 rugby team. Even with no green fingers, Valjean could not be prouder of his daughter and would be happy with anything she did
Valjean adopted Cosette 14 years ago just before he left his old life in Montreuil Sur Mer and in many ways, she was the apple of his eye. He was ready to do anything for her, giving up his life and creating a new life in Paris. Adoption was not on Valjean’s agenda, until an acquaintance of his, Cosette’s mother died suddenly, leaving her daughter. Valjean promised to look after the child and here he was years later, complaining to her about his problems.
Cosette was always an attentive listener and good at advice. “I am sure, Eponine meant no harm when she wanted you to call the police, papa. She’s a good girl. You’ve said it yourself. She just wanted to get the tree back. I am sure she did not know that the police department would send the world’s grumpiest inspector to investigate.” Cosette responded after listening to the story of Valjean’s day. She dusted her hands to lift a weight. “Anyway, Eponine is your favourite worker. You should not blame her for getting you into slight trouble. Remember that time she came to the house after work to deliver some seeds she found. She was so nervous, but you still invited her to dinner as we were already eating, and she accidentally broke our antique vase because she was observing the flowers in it. If you were able to forgive her for that, you should be able to forgive her for this,” Cosette laughed. Although she would never confess, but she had a big gay crush on Valjean’s plant prodigy.
Valjean sighed, Cosette like normal, was always right. “I suppose, Cosette, I suppose. Poor Marius though! I fear like that Inspector is going to scare him to death”, Valjean chuckled, “you know, it is funny. All this drama over a lemon tree!” He handed his daughter another weight, watching as she lifted it with ease. “But enough about me, dear! What do you think about Eponine, eh, I have noticed that you’ve been bringing her up a lot lately. And you know, she asked about you all the time too, is there something I should know?” Valjean asked jokingly. He could never help but notice how the two young ladies act around each other, helplessly in love but afraid to admit it. He would give his consent if they just were brave enough.
Cosette blushed a furious red, looking down at her feet. “Well Papa, Eponine is very good to you. She works hard. She is a good favourite. I suppose I could also call Eponine a friend.” Yes, a friend, just a friend or that is all Cosette thought Eponine could be to her. Despite lunches and dinners out together, days out, Cosette thought she had failed to charm her father’s favourite worker. As she lifted another weight, she thought back at the time that she persuaded Eponine to come to a rugby game with her, Eponine had no idea what was going on and even her confused face made Cosette’s heart swell. But alas, of course Eponine would not like her. Why would she? Eponine was perfect in every way and Cosette felt like she was not. There was also the problem with Eponine with sexuality, Cosette did not know if her crush liked women or not but as always, her self-doubt said no. Little did she know that Eponine’s own feelings mirrored her own.