Chapter Text
As his body fell from the Pont au Change bridge, for the first time in his life, Javert felt a sense of peace. There was no need for the classic suicide note; there wasn’t a soul who would miss him, and in this moment, he felt the peace of the belief that soon he would be in the care of the lord. No more would his thoughts be tormented by the convict who had so brazenly defied him; he would be free of it all. He refused to be pitied further, to be put in the position of the mouse when he’d so frequently considered himself the cat. The world went dark to him as he closed his eyes in preparation for the impact of his body against the filthy water of the river below. In a way, he thought it fitting, from filth he was born and to filth he would die. The world was already dead to him; were someone witnessing or crying out, he would be none the wiser. The only witnesses he cared about in this moment were the Father, the Son, and the holy spirit.
The wind rushed past his ears, and then, quick as a spark, pain filled his body as it made contact with the water below. There was a quick, brief moment where he felt everything in his body, every break and crack, the sensation of air entering his lungs, but just as quickly as it had come it vanished with the rest of the world. It all became dark and devoid of feeling, no more pain nor the torment of his soul, just floating amongst bright lights. Stars. Javert was among them at long last, weightless and free for the first time in his life. For the first time in a very long time, he had no thoughts of the convict he’d hunted tirelessly, finally feeling truly at rest. He was tired and fed up, and then all at once, he was nothing at all. From a state of so much pain and pressure, he was thrust into a calm nothing.
So long he’d struggled and strained, and now his broken body was simply being carried by the current. No longer was his body him but instead a mass of flesh and fabric. The body was just the vessel, his soul was in a state of blissful, quiet nothing. He waited expectantly for anything to break the void, a bright light, a pearly gate, trumpets, a call from Saint Peter, but nothing came. He waited still, and nothing changed. No matter how long it felt he waited, there was nothing, no heaven above calling him home nor any hell dragging him down. Surely this wasn’t limbo, nor all there was, perhaps the angels were overworked and coming to collect him soon. All Javert could do was wait. Just waiting and waiting for someone to wrap him in their warm embrace and bring him to the peace he dreamed of. Surely soon, a man dressed in white would collect him, hold him to his breast, and assure him that he was safe now. He intended to wait for that holy man.
The longer he waited the more agitated he became, he dedicated his entire life, his every moment to rising above the scum his parents were and to do as the Lord commanded him to do and yet he wasn’t being called home. All he’d done was to please the lord with the promise of a righteous reward in the end; a reward that wasn’t coming to him. In all his years, he’d kept faith that the Lord would take him welcomingly, that his steadfast pursuit of justice would reward him handsomely. Long had he dreamed of the warmth of being held by the caring arms of the man he dedicated his life to. That is to say, the inhuman man he’d dedicated his life to. He hoped never to see the human man he dedicated his life in pursuit of again. Curse that man, once a thief, always a thief, and the Lord would have his say in the matter. That man- the man who had every right to kill him and pitied him like a stray dog. If everything he’d been taught to believe was right, He would never need to see Valjean again, nor even think of him, as they would not be sharing the same afterlife.
The silence of the void he found himself floating in started humming around him, vibrating enough to make his ears feel like they were ringing. He began looking around desperately, trying to find the source of the noise so he could greet his creator or a messenger of Him. The void around him began to lighten in color until suddenly things were blurry and bright, and he could feel again.
His body still ached, though it was significantly more dull pain than before; he could feel something against his back, as if he were lying down. As more and more of his world came into focus, he gained senses, pressure around the tip of his pointer finger, a sharp pain in the back of his opposite hand, and his throat ached helplessly. He thought there was no pain in heaven, nor a chill in the air like there was here. His eyes began focusing more, falling to a pane of glass adjacent to his place on the bed. As the view set in, he knew in an instant that there was no absolution coming for him on this day as his eyes set upon the swollen Seine, the humming growing clearer and clearer as the mechanical hum of equipment he was attached to, pumping life into his body that should be dead. Though his vision was still bleary, he could make out the bridge he’d jumped from, people crossing still as if nothing had happened.
Could God not have granted him this little kindness? What had he done to deserve this treatment? After dedicating so much of his life to the lord, it still wasn’t enough for him to earn him the peace and rest he so deeply longed for. He blinked, his eyes coming slowly to focus on a man in uniform standing near the door, speaking in hushed tones to a person in medical scrubs. The well tailored navy blue of the uniform and the delicately graying hair at his temples told him enough to know he was the head of his unit in the police force. As his eyes adjusted and allowed him to see things clearer, he was able to pick up on the expression of his superior, not worried or relieved as one would be if someone they cared for was in the hospital but rather a resigned annoyance. As if he didn’t want to be there any more than Javert did.
“Inspector, I see you’re awake,” his superior stated, moving closer to the other man, the nurse in tow behind him, bringing him a large glass of water with a straw for easier drinking. Javert must have looked not only groggy but also confused because the unit head continued speaking. “We were contacted to be informed someone had jumped, imagine my surprise when it was none other than Emil Javert,” he said, a dry smile on the corner of his lips, trying his best to be a reassuring presence but both of them knew he was likely thinking about all the paperwork that would be needed to be filed about this incident.
Javert hated being called by his first name and he trusted his unit head knew that. He tried to speak but his throat was so dry and aching at this point that what came out sounded more like the wheeze of an old dog going up a set of stairs than a human voice. The nurse moved to hush him despite him not having spoken, jotting things down on a piece of paper as they set the water down on the tray attached to his bed. “Please try not to speak, Mr. Javert,” they said weakly, “You inhaled a lot of water and bruised several bones, but from what we could tell there are no breaks to worry about. That being said though, we still need to keep you here for a few weeks. It’s customary with attempted suicides, I’m sure you understand, but it’s usually incredibly beneficial.” The word suicide’s made Javert’s skin feel like it was made of ants, skuttling over his muscles and bones. The word sounded so cowardly, so infantile, and yet that’s what he’d done. He had attempted suicide and would be in this hospital room for a while because of it. “Once you’ve finished that water, then you can try to talk, but please take it slow.” As infantile as the word suicide felt, it was only the tip of the iceburg in making him feel like a child as the nurse pointed out the call button and explained to him how it worked. They must have seen his glare as they soon excused themself to leave the two men to speak.
Javert drank the water provided, keeping his eyes on the nurse until the door was closed, when he turned his attention to the other officer. “Emil,” he began, pulling up a chair as if he was readying himself to tell a child that their fish died. He didn’t have much emotional investment in whatever he was preparing to say, but he knew Javert likely would. “Let me proceed by saying that we’re all quite happy that you survived your fall and we hope you recover quickly,” he began. Javert knew something big was coming, something that he would likely hate, his dark eyes growing even darker as they narrowed on him. “You understand there are specific psychiatric standards that everyone in the force is required to meet,” he began, with that start, Javert knew enough to know he was being let go. The officer kept talking but it all became muffled to the man in the bed, he had heard enough to know what was happening. After his “little stunt” as the other called it, they didn’t see him in a stable mind and thus were letting him go. “To focus on your recovery of course,” he added at the end, as if it meant anything to him now, as if that somehow provided him with any motivation to recover.
Just as God turned him away from the gates of heaven now he was being turned away from his life’s work. If he wasn’t being monitored constantly now in the hospital, he would have tried again, this time he’d make it count though. “We’ll provide you with a generous severance package of course but I hope you understand why, for your safety, this is being done,” he added. Javert blinked at him hollowly and nodded, taking another large drink of the water provided as if he could persuade him against following protocol with looks alone. He couldn’t of course, but he wouldn’t just lay there and let his displeasure go unnoticed. It wasn’t for his safety and he knew that, the force saw him as a liability now. If he hadn’t failed, the force would give him a proper funeral, a send off to someone who spent so much of his life. But since he did fail, he was being punished not only by his job but his god. It wasn’t even his job anymore, he supposed. He had so few people in his life anymore and all of them had been through work, any semblance of a support system would be gone soon.
That was just how it was and there was nothing he could possibly do to change it. He nodded at his coworker and finished off his water before trying his best to speak. This time his voice came out, rough still, but a voice now. “Of course. I understand,” he said, letting his chest rise and fall. “If that will be all, I should focus on resting,” he said, wanting not only to be alone but also not having to look at that man further. He knew in a place like this he could never be truly alone, but he would settle for just laying in his bed and thinking, reflecting back on the things that happened during the days before. He kept those thoughts at bay though, until the other had left at least. Once he was gone, the thoughts were allowed to run wild.
What had he done to deserve this? Not only did he fail, but he lost his job and who was to blame for it all? Even before that, what had he done to deserve to live when given the chance to die at the hands of a thief? It was his right to kill him, and now here he sat very much not dead. Knowing his luck it had been that man- Valjean- who had pulled him from the swollen river, who had given his chest compressions, and who had provided mouth to mouth. The thought sickened him, though he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maybe that man had even taken him in his arms and carried him to the hospital himself; he likely had strength enough to lift him with no struggle at all. How dare he, when Javert wanted to be held in the warm and loving arms of the lord he was instead in the arms of a convict.
The thought sickened him so much that he couldn’t bear it anymore and pressed the call button for the nurse, maybe they would be able to tell him anything about who brought him in or if he was taken in by someone completely different. The nurse soon entered, giving him an only slight reassuring smile, bringing with them a large reusable cup of water with a straw for him. “More water, Monsieur Javert,” they asked, exchanging the water containers before he could even answer.
He knew he should acknowledge the small bit of kindness he was shown but simply nodded a thank you before speaking, his voice still rough, but steadier all the same. “Do you know who brought me in,” he asked, he had no time to beat around the bush, he needed to get an answer, maybe then he could rest.
The nurse thought for a bit before speaking, “He didn’t give us a name, but he was an older man? He had white hair at least,” they said. They said more but after that moment, Javert had tuned a lot of it out, unable to shake the thought from his mind. Not only had that man refused to kill him but soon took a more proactive approach and likely dove into the water behind him to save his life. Not just sparing his life today, but saving it. There was only one older man who had the strength to swim clothed in the river, and only one hairbrained enough to dive to think it wise to even try. It had to be him, there were no other options. Of course it was him, he mocked his failure even if he didn’t intend to. Javert turned his attention to the nurse who was still talking, once more paying them enough attention to hear and process what they were saying. “-even left his phone number in case you wanted someone to talk to,” they said, beaming as they spoke. “He seemed really fond of you.”
Javert couldn’t help but scoff.