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Inspector Javert.
His title. His hat. His solidity. Things that he had been so proud of once.
What was Jean Valjean proud of? His guiles? His knack for keeping from the law? His child? His kindness? His outrageous talent for destroying everything a man could believe in?
Javert was floating now. There was no solid earth for him to stand on anymore. There were no solid principles. No laws.
Javert let out a small mirthless laugh. No laws. What hell.
He had been walking for two hours, not particularly caring where his feet took him. But he knew where he would end up when he was ready. The bridge. His bridge. And then a meeting with the River Seine.
Luckily, or unluckily in Javert's opinion, he was stopped by none other than Jean Valjean. Javert was standing on the edge of the bridge, staring up into the sky, when Jean Valjean himself gently took him by the hand and led him away from the edge. Valjean didn't say anything, but Javert knew that he had known exactly what Javert was planning on doing.
"It is a beautiful evening to take a walk, Inspector. Would you consider it a crime to walk alongside a criminal?" Valjean asked.
Valjean's voice was playful, but Javert could see the infuriating righteous worry hidden in the man's eyes. Javert simply grunted in reply and began to walk.
"Well, I have finished my task, Inspector. I am ready to face my judgment," Valjean announced, as if that was going to change anything.
Judgment. What a word for him to use. Javert never considered himself one to dole out judgment. He was the one who carried out the law. He was the one who followed the rules. He was not the one who decided whether or not someone was breaking them. Javert had half a mind to scream all these thoughts at the man walking calmly next to him. Instead, he asked a question.
"Is the boy alive?"
Tension that Javert had not noticed from Valjean's shoulders.
"Marius is alive, and the doctors are certain that he will make a full recovery," Valjean answered.
Inspector Javert had another question.
"Why that boy? Why him? There were plenty of people to save. If you believed in their Revolution you could have saved their Apollo, their leader, that student, Enjolras."
Valjean frowned.
"I didn't particularly care for their revolution. But they were children. And they believed what they were doing to be right."
"It is tragic to see blood on the streets of Paris. However foolish school boys could be," Javert hummed sadly, "You still haven't answered my question."
"Why I went through all that trouble to save Marius? My daughter is in love with him."
Javert snorted.
"Sometimes I forget exactly how predictable you are, Valjean."
"It seems that in our relationship, you are the one who surprises," Valjean chuckled.
The pair walked along in silence for a while. They didn't seem to have any sort of specific destination, but Javert took care to not walk towards his offices. He was not planning on arresting Jean Vajean tonight.
Javert observed a man lighting a street light. He wondered who would be the first to speak again.
It was Valjean.
"When I found you, you were looking up at the stars. What were you thinking?"
Of course Valjean wanted to know about the stars. He had no questions at all about why Javert wanted to jump, only about why he was looking at the heavens.
"I used to believe that the stars were immortal and unchanging. I admired them. "
"You wanted to be like them," Valjean concluded.
"Yes," Javert sighed, "I was foolish."
"It is not foolish for a man to desire to be like a star. The foolish man is the one that punishes himself for not becoming one."
"So you are calling me a fool then, Valjean?", Javert clarified.
"I am only saying that you expect too much from yourself. You are only a man, after all."
Only a man. Like Valjean.
But Valjean couldn't just be a man. Not him. Not the one who changed everyone he met. No mere man could change things. Things that were never supposed to be changed. Again, Javert was faced with the question of whether the man was an angel or a demon.
"What is on your mind?" Valjean asked.
"I am wondering whether you are from heaven or from hell," Javert answered.
Valjean laughed as if he had said a joke.
"It is getting cold," Valjean pointed out, "we should go somewhere."
Javert heard his voice offer up his own quarters, but he seemed to have missed consciously making the decision. His mouth was working of its own accord.
Valjean nodded once in approval, and Javert couldn't bother taking his offer back.
Valjean began to walk in the direction of Javert's home.
"You know where I live," Javert observed.
"Know thine enemy," Valjean answered.
"Fair enough."
As they approached Javert's home, Javert slowed down his steady pace.
"What are we doing, Valjean?" he asked.
"I don't know," Jean Valjean replied honestly, "but a cup of tea would be nice."
Javert nodded once and began his walk again with purpose.