Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a fair and lovely summer day. Valjean smiled as he listened to Cosette talk about the fresh and delicious foods she had discovered at this farmer’s market. “How could we not have noticed it after so many years? It was right around the corner!” She had said.

Even though they had their own garden, and Valjean would have planted anything Cosette asked him to, perhaps he could not quite compete with the farmers who did do it for a living. Nonetheless, Cosette insisted on bringing him to the market, perhaps in hopes of getting him some new friends.

Valjean smiled when she stated her intentions, though deep down he did not expect it to happen. Gardening was always a solitary matter for him, a meditative prayer that was not meant to have company. Though, some of the items Cosette had brought back before tasted very nice — perhaps Valjean could ask them for their secrets.

“Should we try some honey?” Cosette pointed to a particular stall. Valjean nodded and walked towards it with her.

The stall was remarkably plain — a simple white table cloth draped over a table, and a few jars of honey arranged in a single file line. In front of it, the price was scribbled on with black marker on a single sheet of A4 paper. Compared to the stalls next to it, which featured trays, banners, shelves, lights, and custom labels, the stall seemed even more barren. Behind the table, a man leaned back on a wooden chair, his head buried in the newspaper. He did not move or seem to acknowledge Cosette or Valjean’s presence in anyway as they approached.

“Excuse me, sir?” Cosette attempted. “Is it possible to open a jar briefly to get a smell of the honey?”

The man flicked down his newspaper roughly, a curt denial on his tongue until his eyes met with Valjean’s.

“Javert.”

Javert’s eyes widened, his pupil shrinked so incredibly small that it looked like his eyes were reflecting the sky light.

“You know him, papa?”

“No.” Javert blurted out. “To both your questions, madamoiselle.”

“I thought you were dead!”

Javert blinked, his bottom lip tremored stiffly as he looked at Valjean and back to Cosette.

“I- Cosette, could you please fetch us two coffees?”

Cosette looked at Valjean, a mix of confusion and concern.

“What would you like, Monsieur?”

“Black.”

Javert watched stiffly as Cosette slowly walked away from the stall and to the coffee shop by the corner, occasionally looking back at the both of them. When she finally disappeared behind the shop doors, Valjean spoke once more.

“I heard- I saw-“

“It seems bloody obvious that it didn’t happen, did it? I got resuscitated and placed in some psychiatric ward until a doctor let me leave. They still have me check in with her once a month, like I’m on parole.”

“I see,” Valjean murmured. “So, you… keep bees, now?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, if you don’t mind me asking-“

“My boss wanted me back. I refused. Eventually he asked if I could take care of a small patch of land a cousin owned. Since my doctor recommended that I get a hobby. It’s too small for growing crops or keeping cattle, so.”

“I see.” Valjean looked at the jars of honey. They were hexagonal with a metal top. A simple handwritten label wrapped around the side. Unmistakably, in Javert’s handwriting, was the word “Honey”, and the jar’s net weight. On an adjacent side, storage conditions, best before date, and other legally required information was also written. Valjean exhaled, wondering if Javert had written the same thing for each jar individually.

“I can give you a discount.” Javert said dryly.

“I- Um- are we-”

Before Valjean could ask further, Cosette had returned with the coffees. Javert shifted, reaching into his pocket, though Valjean stopped him.

“My treat,”

Javert looked at Valjean, unsure.

“I can give you a discount.” He repeated. This time, Cosette took the initiative and bought some honey.

When they were back home, before Valjean could even sit down, Cosette started asking questions.

“Who was he? Do you know each other?”

“I used to… in a way, work with him, in the past.”

“You were co-workers?”

“Not exactly.”

“Why did you think he was dead?”

“He- I- he got in a life-threatening situation and I couldn’t save him.”

“That’s terrible! Did you call the police?”

“Of course! I just never knew that he made it.”

“I am so sorry to hear that. When did that happen?”

“Around two years ago?”

“Like, during the protests? Papa!” Cosette covered her mouth with one hand.

“No, it wasn’t related to that. Not- directly, at least. I really shouldn’t be talking about his business without his permission.”

Cosette nodded. “Do you want to try some honey? We can put it in some tea!” She said as she wandered into the kitchen to boil up some water.

The tea was great. The honey had a mild and flowery aftertaste to it that Valjean never noticed from other honey. It complemented the tea nicely. He held the jar in his hand, turning it over to read the label.

Ah, there, also legally required, was the seller’s name and address.

———

Valjean’s hand hesitated, an inch away from the door. What was he doing? Why was he here? He should turn back and go back to his life. But, another part of him argued, this was something that he must do. Before he could debate with himself further, he knocked on the door.

Two seconds later, a man — Javert — wearing a veil and full beekeeping suit, opened the door, a utensil resembling a flat knife with a curled end in his other hand.

“Is this a bad time?”

He heard Javert exhale, before turning away. “Come in.”

Valjean hesitantly entered, following Javert through a small house and out into the yard at the back. There was a small workshop area set outdoors, where it was covered by a wooden overhang but separated from the kitchen via a glass sliding door. Slightly off in the distance, stood three wooden hives, two tall and one short.

“Stand back.” Javert said without looking. Valjean obeyed, and he watched Javert lift the cover off of the two tall hives. Using the tool, Javert dislodged and pulled out wooden frames that contained honeycomb, examining it carefully. He repeated this for the other box. When he was satisfied, he put the lid back on the hives, and carried the top boxes away onto the workshop table. After that, he turned around to address Valjean.

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought you something.” Valjean held up a basket of fruit and veggies from his own garden. He couldn’t see Javert’s expression through the veil, but he believed the man’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why?”

“As an apology, I-” Javert stopped him with a raised hand.

“Let me finish this first.”

Quietly, Valjean followed him back into the kitchen. Javert closed the glass door after setting the two boxes on the counter. He then unzipped and took off his beekeeper suit, tossing it onto an empty chair.

He once again pulled out a frame of honeycomb, this time setting it on top of a bucket with a sort of barbecue grate on top. Using a long knife that resembled a serrated bread knife, he carefully sliced off the white wax caps that covered each small chamber of honey. He then placed the frame into a large metal bucket with a spinning mechanism, leaving the wax on the grate.

After repeating this for two more frames, Javert began manually turning the mechanism. Valjean could not see it, but from the sound, he assumed that the frames were spinning inside. When the honey was extracted from the honeycombs, Javert then opened a hatch at the bottom to let it drain into another bucket.

When Javert was done with all that, he carried the frames outside and placed them in the workshop. Within a few moments, bees swarmed into them, reclaiming any remaining honey from the honeycombs.

Javert then cleared the kitchen, moving the honey extractor and buckets of honey out of the way. He gestured to Valjean to take a seat, pouring himself and Valjean a cup of water before he joined him.

“What do you have to apologize for?”

Valjean placed the basket on the table. “I- I didn’t help you. I saw- and I didn’t help you.”

“It’s not your responsibility to help me.”

“You don’t understand, Javert. I saw you jump from afar, and I- I didn’t call the police until I was too far away for police or paramedics to notice me.”

Javert blinked blankly at him for a moment.

“Wow.”

“I am so, so sorry. I don’t know why, I-“

“It’s fine. At least you did call.”

“It’s not! I left you to die, wasting precious time that could have saved you because I was- I was afraid!”

“I’m not mad, Valjean. You did more than I would have, if I were you.” Javert tipped the basket lightly for emphasis. “You probably would have dove in after me if you were close enough to.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just- I had no way of knowing if you were okay. Not without compromising my daughter’s safety.”

“You can rest easy now.”

“Are you really not a policeman anymore?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you… alright now?”

“I guess.”

…

“Valjean.”

“Yes?”

“How was the honey?”

“It’s great. It’s got a mild flowery taste to it.”

“That’s because of the different wildflowers the bees are visiting. In autumn it would be a different taste.”

“Would it? I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“You don’t realise it until you taste it.”

“I guess not. I never thought about eating the flowers in my garden.”

Javert chuckled. “Well, you aren’t a bee.”

It was unusual but strangely freeing, to be able to have small talk with Javert like this, past all but forgotten. When it was time to leave, Valjean had gotten far too bold.

“Is it alright if I- visited you again? I- I liked watching you work.”

“Only if you promise to help me plant some flowers in the yard.”

Chapter Text

“You know,” Javert said, standing a fair meter behind Valjean as he worked the earth. “Even if the emergency personnel didn’t see you, they still record all the emergency calls they get. And I think they can triangulate your location using cell towers nowadays.”

Valjean stopped, panting from exertion and exasperation. “I- Technology is something else.”

“It is,” Javert replied mildly. Valjean watched as a little bee flew into and rubbed itself against a flower on the shrub he was transferring.

“How did you- decide to keep bees? I mean, there’s probably a billion other things you could have chosen to do.”

“After I moved in, I discovered that there was a wild hive in the shed.” Javert pointed to a small wooden structure at the edge of the yard. “I called someone to remove it, but then I- I decided to not to throw it out or give it away.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, it didn’t seem fair. The bees didn’t know where they were living, they weren't actual pests, they just did their work and pollinated the fields. Get up, I’ll get you some water.”

Valjean stood up slowly, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked at Javert as he poured him water and handed him a glass.

“I didn’t know anything about beekeeping, so I just put them in a box and left them to it. But a local beekeeper must have heard about it from the rescuer; he came and taught me the basics. Bees don’t need much intervention, but they still need a helping hand now and then.” Javert looked at his hives. The entrance buzzed with activity — flowers were still in bloom and nectar needed collecting. Bees queued at the front with yellow stores of pollen on their legs, ready to enter the hive and unload.

“That sounds nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Javert snorted slightly. “Anyways, what did you plant?”

“I don’t know how much maintenance you might want to do, so I just planted some clover and a bit of blackberry at the back. I looked it up and I think bees like them? You might be able to make some jam with the berries, too.”

“You did your homework.” Javert reached down to touch a small, white flower on the bush, his thumb brushed over the petal gently. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Valjean smiled, finally letting himself take a large gulp of water. When he finished, he caught Javert looking at him, though Javert immediately turned away.

“When you’re ready, put a suit on. I want to show you something.” He went and handed Valjean a spare beekeeping suit, though he avoided looking at Valjean for the moment.

Valjean looked at the garment in his hands. Behind him, he heard the sound of fabric shuffling and of Javert putting his own suit on. Awkwardly, he followed suit and put it on as best as he could. He turned over to face Javert when he was done, but Javert seemed to look unhappy as he approached Valjean.

Valjean closed his eyes and braced himself, though Javert merely tightened the elastic cuffs around his wrists.

“You wouldn’t want a bee crawling up there.” Javert said, still looking at his wrists. It seemed to hit them both what Javert was doing, as Javert withdrew quickly and murmured an apology.

Valjean watched Javert grab a tin container that resembled a watering pot, thrown in a lit match, and stuffed in a handful of pine needles, perhaps a bit too forcefully. He squeezed the handle twice, causing smoke to puff out of the top of an upside down funnel.

“Oh! It’s the- you calm bees down with it, right? “

“Smoker.”

“Yes.”

Javert gestured Valjean to follow him as he approached the hives. To the side of one hive, a smaller hive box leaned against it, unoccupied.

“You haven’t seen the inside of a beehive before, right?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

Javert started with spraying some smoke near the top of the hive before lifting off the cover. Some bees flew out at the disturbance and began flying around Valjean and Javert, though they didn’t seem to be aggressive. Javert pulled out the tool he used last time, freeing and lifting out a frame of honeycomb. It was covered in bees, so Javert shook it once to drop them from the frame.

“Do you see the white caps? That’s honey inside. The yellow ones that aren’t capped, nectar still needs to be processed before it turns into honey. If most of it is capped, like this one, it’s ready to harvest.”

“How do the bees process nectar?”

“They digest the nectar with some enzymes to break it down, and then they dry it out until the water content is less than twenty percent.”

“Why twenty percent?”

“That’s the legal limit. Also the honey would start fermenting otherwise.” Javert carefully placed the frame back into the box.

“Ah.”

The hive Javert was examining contained three boxes — two shorter ones at the top, and one taller one at the bottom. He removed the top two boxes and stacked them aside, then removed the thin metal grate that separated the bottom box — it keeps the queen at the bottom box, he told Valjean. He then gestured Valjean to lean down and look more closely.

He pulled out a frame in the middle. It was also swarming with bees, like the frame full of honey, though Javert didn’t shake them away this time.

“Do you see the brown caps? Those are pupa. In less than a week, they’ll hatch into another worker bee.”

“Like an egg?”

“No, more like a cocoon.” Javert looked closer at the frame. “The queen lays eggs — there.”

Javert pointed to a bee that was slightly longer than others and had a bright painted dot on its back. After Valjean was done looking, Javert produced a plastic gadget that gently isolated and contained the queen.

“The eggs look more like grains of rice, if you can see it.”

“Oh, yeah.” Valjean also noticed white larva at the bottom of some cells, wriggling and being fed by the nurse bees. “What are those, then?” He pointed at some rounded capsules at the bottom of the frame. They pretruded from the uniformity of the honeycomb, resembling a peanut shell.

“It’s why I’m here today. Hold this.” Valjean cautiously held the frame by the top ledges, afraid of dropping it.

Javert grabbed the unused box and took out three empty frames. He then took the frame of brood from Valjean and put it into the new box. He took two more frames from the old box — one filled with nectar, one filled with brood — and placed it in the new box. After placing the lid, he put the new box in the old one’s place.

He then moved the old box to a different spot, releasing the queen inside, and placed the shorter boxes back on top.

“Those were swarming cells. It means the bees are trying to make a new queen while the old queen leaves with half of the hive. A swarm. So I split the colony. The new colony-“ He pointed at the new box “-Will think the queen has left, and they will hatch a new queen.”

“Will they have enough bees? I didn’t see a lot of them just now.”

“The foragers haven’t returned yet. They’ll go back to where they think the old hive is.”

“Ah.”

“I’ll just have to make sure the old colony doesn’t try to swarm again, and the new queen hatches and starts laying eggs soon.”

“I didn’t know that’s what bees swarms do.”

“It’s a sign that the colony is doing well, to the point that there isn't enough room for all of them. So it’s time for half the hive to journey on and settle elsewhere. There are other ways to stop it, of course, but I don’t like those.”

“Like what?”

“You could clip the wings of the queen.” Javert said, his voice cracked slightly. “Even if she leaves, she won’t fly far, and you could recapture her rather easily.”

“It’s like-“ Breaking the legs of a convict to stop him from escaping. Or chaining his ankle to a heavy metal ball.

“I know.”

“I’m glad you didn’t do that.”

“Let’s go back inside.”

They shed their beekeeping suits in silence. Javert avoided looking at Valjean after that.

At the door, when Valjean was about to leave, he turned around one last time.

“Javert?”

“Yes?” Javet met his eyes now, albeit reluctantly.

“I’m glad you showed me the hives. I- I can tell you care a lot about them.”

“… Thank you.”

“Can I come back next week?”

“Sure.” Javert still looked a bit pensive, though he was not tense anymore.

Chapter Text

Valjean knocked tepidly at the door in front of him. After a short moment, it was open.

“Monsieur Fauchelevent? Is everything alright?”

“There is something I have to tell you, but Cosette must never know. Please.”

Marius frowned, concerned.

“Please come in.”

———

“I appreciate the flowers, but there really is no need to plant new ones every week.”

“I figured that if I am coming over anyways, I could probably plant some flowers that are slightly higher maintenance.”

“I can probably learn how to do it.”

“No, let me. You let me watch and help with your bees. It’s the least I could do.”

“You are repaying me for letting you help by helping even more.” Javert raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have your own garden?”

“I have the rest of the week to deal with it. I thought it would be a nice treat for your bees.”

“If you’re sure.”

Valjean was glad Javert couldn’t see his face at the moment — he wasn’t sure if he could hold up to Javert’s scrutinising gaze. He compacted some earth under his palms.

“What happened to the hive that you split?”

“Old one’s doing fine. I’m going to check if the new one’s queen is back from her mating flight.” Javert said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Hastily, Valjean finished his work and began putting on his suit.

“Wait, you aren’t wearing any gloves.”

“It’s safer to wear them, but I think I’ll need the dexterity today. Plus they more commonly go for the face.”

“What do you plan on doing?”

“I was hoping to get a painted dot on her back. Makes finding her easier.”

“That makes sense.”

Valjean watched Javert lift the lid to the hive box.

“Usually the brood is in the middle and everything radiates outwards.” Javert drew an oval around where the bees congregated. “Help me find the queen.” He then lifted a frame at the center. “It’s harder without the dot.”

Valjean immediately felt overwhelmed — the frame was covered in a thick layer of bees, each buzzing and moving about in different directions, occasionally flying off or crawling over another bee.

“Uh… what does the queen bee look like?”

“She’s usually longer than a worker bee, but not too much. Sometimes there’s a small ring of bees surrounding and pointing at her, but it’s still very small. She also moves slower than the others."

Valjean squinted, trying to focus his eyes to spot one bee that stood out from the rest.

“This is hard.”

“Yeah. That’s if she’s actually here…” Javert looked closer at the honeycomb. “I see new eggs, so she’s definitely in here. Somewhere.”

“My eyes are not ready for this.”

“No rush, I am just as inexperienced as you are.”

“Is it that one?” Valjean pointed to a rounded, bean-shaped bee.

“That’s probably a drone. They are the ones that’s a bit wider.”

“Is the queen on the other side?”

“Maybe.” Javert moved and turned the frame, so that Valjean remained looking at the front while he scanned the back.

Then, right under Javert’s fingers, crawling from the edge of the frame to the front—

“I see her!” Valjean exclaimed, locking his eyes on her. Javert moved back, careful not to turn the frame so suddenly that Valjean loses track or the queen gets scared off.

“Where?”

“There.” Valjean pointed. “She must have been hiding on the sides.”

“Sneaky lady. Hold the frame, I’ll try to get a dot on her.”

“Alright.”

Valjean looked closer at her tiny body. It was so small it could be completely squished between his fingers. And yet she alone was responsible for the fate of every single life in the hive. How fragile and beautiful she was! Valjean looked as her attendants approached and hovered around her.

“I think I just noticed that she doesn’t have any stripes on her.”

“Does she?” Javert leaned closer. “You’re right.”

It only helped marginally to notice the queen, but it was better than nothing. Next to Valjean, Javert quickly dabbed a little bit of paint on a thin paint brush. He flicked it slightly to get the excess paint off, careful to point it away from the hive.

“Here’s the hard part.”

Javert lifted the paintbrush, hovering it just above the midsection of the queen. Valjean could see how his hand was shaking.

“Tiny moving target. Through a goddamned veil.” Javert murmured under his breath.

“Relax.”

Javert closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling. He locked onto the queen again, then lightly but precisely painted a small dot on her back. He pulled away quickly, afraid of smearing the paint on her wings or on other bees. He took a step back, breathing quickly.

“You got it.”

“Great.” Javert was breathing a bit heavily, but there was relief in his voice. “You can put it back in now.”

Valjean was not expecting Javert to trust him with this task, though he obeyed anyway. He slotted the frame back into the hive, careful not to startle or squish any bees.

Once Javert placed the lid back on the hive, he heaved a great sigh of relief.

“They will probably need another box soon, I see that they’re filling the honey frames pretty quickly.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. It is.” Javert smiled. “Before I forget, would you like to name the queen?”

“What?”

“I name the queens so it’s easier to keep track of the different colonies. How about you do the honours, since you found her?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Javert had already begun to unzip his beekeeping suit, taking off the veil and swiping off sweat on his face and neck. Javert’s hair was done up in a messy bun to fit under the veil. Valjean watched as it bobbed with each heavy breath.

“Uh…”

“Anything is fine.” Oblivious to what Valjean was distracted by, Javert said.

“Um… Cosette.”

“Cosette? After- your daughter?”

“A daughter no more, she’s grown up so fast.” Valjean said, almost mournfully. “It’s not bad luck, is it?”

“It’s not a ship, so probably not.” Javert began taking off the rest of his suit. “You are sure.”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Javert huffed amusedly, but he didn’t challenge Valjean further.

Chapter Text

“It’s Wednesday.” Javert said plainly.

“It is.”

“You usually come on Sundays.”

“I just- wanted to see how Cosette’s doing.”

“I- sure.” Javert moved aside to let him in. The house was quiet on a weekday afternoon. The lights were not on, even though it was late enough to get a bit dim inside. Following Javert to the yard, Valjean discovered why Javert let the house dark — he was working in the yard. On the workshop table, a small pile of wooden parts and planks lay on the table and on the ground.

“What are you working on?”

“Building new frames for Cosette’s colony.”

“Oh.”

“I just need to assemble them. Not even thinking about making them from scratch.”

“You did say she needed another box.”

“Are you really here just to check on her?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve never seen a bee colony grow and expand like this.” Valjean said. “And, uh, it’s nice to just hang out, with you.”

“I- Okay.” Javert raised his hand to cover his mouth in a fake cough. “We can check on her once I’m done.”

“No problem.”

Valjean sat aside on a bench and watched Javert work. He slotted wooden pieces together, hitting them in place with a hammer. Holding the wooden frame in place, he hammered in nails at critical points. After that, he slotted in a thin sheet from the bottom of the frame. It was light yellow with hexagonal patterns and a thin wire within it. The wire formed a sharp wavy shape up and down the paper, poking out at the bottom. Javert bent the exposed corners so they lay flat on the frame, before also hammering a nail through each of them.

Seemingly sensing the unasked question, Javert began. “The thin sheet of wax helps the bees to get started with building honeycomb. I think the wire just helps with stability.”

Valjean smiled weakly and nodded. He watched quietly as Javert assembled more frames. It was as if the sounds of the world had faded out, and he was only being moved along by some invisible wave…

“…Can you believe this was only invented in 1851?” Javert’s voice slowly filtered back in.

“Pardon?”

“Before they invented these boxes and frames, they usually just kept bees in a basket. Or a log. They couldn’t inspect or help the bees if needed. And they have to kill all the bees to be able to get the honey! The whole thing!”

“Oh.”

“I don’t even follow animal rights, but that’s just ridiculous.”

“It is pretty sad.”

“It is unfair.” Javert said quietly, turning back to work.

Valjean peered at the half-filled hive box. Already, there were six wooden frames built and placed inside. Valjean reached a curious hand down, so that he pushed all the frames to one side, and the top bars lay flush with each other. Javert noticed it, and he interrupted his work to reach down and undo it.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, I just thought- you could fit more frames inside like that.”

“That is one thing, but you have to leave some room for the bees to crawl around. It’s called bee space, I think. Too much, and they’ll build unwanted comb. Too little, they’ll seal it up.” Javert explained. “Plus, it would be difficult to pick up a frame if there’s no room to put a finger in.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s fine.”

Javert turned back. When he was done assembling the frames, he placed them into the wooden hive box and motioned at Valjean to suit up.

Javert opened the lid to Cosette’s hive, chuckling quite fondly when he saw the colony brimming with activity, and smelling the sweet scent of honey.

“They’ve been busy.” He lifted a frame, showing Valjean the capped honeycomb. “That reminds me — does your daughter like candles? Maybe we could make her some.”

Valjean’s hesitance must have been known in his silence, as Javert also fell quiet and placed the frame back down. Mutely, Javert lifted a center frame and scouted for Cosette.

“She’s doing well.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“She’s on this side.” Javert said flatly.

“Oh.”

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry, I am just a bit tired.” Valjean moved over, though he only glanced at the scuttling queen bee half-heartedly.

“Would you like some tea?”

“No, but thank you.”

Javert quietly placed Cosette’s frame back down once Valjean was done looking at it.

He turned his head to look at Valjean once, then he looked away. He placed the queen excluder on the top of the bottom box, then lifted and placed the new box on top of it. Now the bees would have much more room to store their honey.

“It’s too late in the year for another harvest, and they need to grow their numbers, so I won’t be taking anything from her this year.”

Valjean nodded quietly, though his mind was clearly in a different place. Separated from the mother who gave birth to her, thrust into this strange life all alone… How much had been taken from her already?

“Valjean.”

Valjean blinked, snapping out of his reverie and looking at Javert, who had taken off his veil already. Javert hesitated for a moment, as though he decided not to say something at the last second.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

———

Javert cooked. Valjean just sat still at the dining table. The evening news was playing — Javert turned it on just for some background noise. Though, to Valjean, it was nothing more than an indistinct, muffled sound.

Valjean didn’t know why he agreed — well, he did — it was not as if someone was waiting for him at home anyways. When Javert suggested he call his daughter to notify her, Valjean merely pretended to.

Valjean didn’t know why Javert invited him to begin with — well, he could guess — he was not particularly trying to shield his low mood from view, perhaps Javert was concerned. It was difficult to fathom Javert would be concerned for his wellbeing, but it was also difficult to fathom Javert keeping bees.

Javert must have finished cooking, because a meal was placed in front of him, and he began to eat from it. It didn’t particularly taste like anything, though it probably wasn’t Javert’s fault.

“Javert,” he heard himself ask. “Are the drone bees the queen’s… husbands?”

“Uh, no. The drones in a hive are usually the queen’s sons. The uh… mating partners of the queen are drones from other hives. The queen receives most of the sperm during that first mating flight. It’s like… a honeymoon.”

“I see.” Valjean saw Javert frown a bit, perhaps disappointed that Valjean did not notice the pun.

Valjean kept eating, though something was odd. Everything tasted salty.

“-Valjean. Valjean!” A light shake on his shoulder, Valjean looked up to see a concerned Javert leaning over the table. “Y-you are crying.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Valjean rubbed his eyes roughly, though it did not stop the flow in the slightest. “I should leave. I’m sorry for the bother.”

Valjean did not hear Javert calling for him when he hurriedly walked out of the door, his eyes still wet.

On autopilot, his body managed to bring himself home.

It was late in the evening. The house was dark and empty. His stomach rumbled with the lack of food, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t turn the lights on. He climbed into bed and closed his eyes, praying for a peace that was too fleeting to be felt.

Chapter Text

Javert was reading quietly at the farmer’s market.

He was supposed to be practicing queenspotting — hence his book — but he just couldn’t seem to focus. He sighed, flipping to the solution. It can’t be helped. The past month, he’s been thinking about that day, over and over, wondering what went wrong, what he could have done, should have done instead. It was agitating. He was worried, but he vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to pry unless Valjean came to him about it — Javert had hunted the man long enough, he deserved whatever distance Valjean wanted to keep.

Vainly, Javert had hoped that even if Valjean would not visit him again, perhaps he would return to the farmer’s market, and Javert could at least know he’s safe and sound.

Indeed, it almost seemed so when Javert heard Cosette’s voice approach, though the one accompanying her was not Valjean, but Marius. Javert’s eyes widened when he recognized the boy, though Marius seemed to react even more severely to their encounter.

“Marius?” Cosette asked.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Javert said dryly.

“Do you need to sit down?”

Javert moved out of the way quietly to give Marius his own chair. Marius breathed heavily, looking at Javert then back at his feet.

“Oh my god.” He finally managed. Then, “I fucked up.”

“What’s going on?”

Marius looked at Javert. Javert winced at his pained expression.

“Do you know something about this? What’s going on?” Cosette asked. “How come both my father and husband seem to know you??”

“Cosette..”

“Marius. Give us a minute. Get us something to drink.” Javert tossed him his wallet. Though shaken, Marius was still able to catch it, and walked away as though he was on autopilot.

“Please, ma’am,” Javert gestured Cosette to sit.

“You can call me Cosette.”

“You may wish to revoke that right after I’m finished.” Javert sighed.

“Your father was once a convict under the name of Jean Valjean. He stole a loaf of bread to feed his family. Later, he broke his parole. He established a business and became mayor of a town using some silver that was gifted to him. It was there he met your mother.”

“My- mom…”

“They weren’t in a relationship, she only worked at his factory for a while. She was fired because it was discovered that she had a child. Your father, when he found out, vowed to take care of you in her name. I’m sure you recall what happened next.”

“But we didn’t return to the town.”

“That was where I came in. I used to be a prison guard at your father’s prison, and I had been working in that town as police chief. I recognized your father and submitted a report. That’s why he couldn’t return. He would be arrested and sent back to prison for at least decades. I was the reason he had to live a life on the run. And I was the reason why your mother died.”

The chair clanked as Cosette stood up and overturned it.

“After she was fired, she worked on the streets and was homeless for a while. As a result she got sick. Your father sent her to a hospital, and I waited outside her room because I knew he would come back to tell her about you. I was right, and I confronted him there. The shock of the encounter killed her.

“I had briefly acquainted with your husband around the time the Thenardiers attempted to rob your father. But the reason he thought I was dead was because I was a spy at the barricades and I was supposed to be executed. I didn’t. Your father spared me. He saved my life twice that night.”

Cosette was silent. She looked like she was about to start crying or punch Javert in the face. Javert would understand if she did the latter.

“And the reason he didn’t tell me about this was… what?” Javert did not interrupt. “To protect me?”

“I would assume so, ma’am.”

She didn’t correct him this time.

They stood in silence until Marius returned with coffee. The cup looked more like a projectile in Cosette’s hands.

“What’s all… this, then?” She looked at the table.

“I resigned from the police force. Your father’s been helping me with it, occasionally.”

“Right. And was that why he was suddenly too busy to visit me?”

“No! Cosette, no, it was all my fault!” Marius interjected. “Oh my god. Your father came and told me about his past, and said that he didn’t want his past to drag you down. I should’ve said no. I should’ve asked him to stay! But I didn’t. I said yes when he asked me to tell you he was on a business trip. So you wouldn’t worry-“

“You idiot,” Cosette hissed. She turned to Javert again. “When was the last time you saw him?”

Javert suddenly felt his blood run cold. “About a month ago. He seemed upset about something. He usually came by once a week but he didn’t come back afterwards.”

“Why didn’t you say anything??”

“I didn’t want to intrude on his privacy! He always came to me, never me to him. I’ve hunted the man a majority of his life, I wasn’t going to do that again! If I knew it was that serious-”

“You don’t seem to know anything about anything, do you?”

Cosette seemed to flinch at her own words. She grimaced, pinching her nose bridge.

“We’re not done here,” she said, “And you’re coming with me.”

“Understood.”

———

Marius’ hand shook slightly as he opened the door to Fauchelevant’s residence with his spare key. He turned and heard the characteristic click of the lock, then immediately pushed the door open.

The house was empty, seemingly intentionally deserted. The trash cans were emptied, there was no food left in the fridge, the windows were locked. It would seem that Valjean was merely away from a long trip aboard, if it weren’t for the fact that most of his personal belongings were also untouched. The only things that they could identify as missing were his phone and keys.

This was hopeful and terrifying at the same time — it could mean that he did not intend to leave the house for too long, or it could mean that he did not intend to stay anywhere at all after he left.

The uncollected mail dated back to a week ago, which was a start. Javert and Marius had immediately gone outside to contact the police, calling in whatever connections they could get.

Meanwhile, Cosette’s feet led her to the garden at the back…

Even though Valjean may have only left a week ago, the garden showed signs of longer term neglect. What were once neatly trimmed lawns were overgrown with weeds. Flower bushes were unpruned, some were already withering. Leaves fallen from trees were not raked, forming a soft layer on the ground, covering the path. Cosette reached down at one of the plots. When she was small, she made a ceramic snail in art class and brought it home. Valjean had loved it so much he placed it with Cosette’s favorite flowers, so the snail could watch over them and protect it from pests.

The snail was tipped over and moss had begun to grow on top of it. Cosette picked it up and brushed the moss off.

She remembered bug hunting with papa at the garden, giggling when they discovered a new worm or snail. He would praise her when she could identify it without using a book. She remembered the times when she’d help him with something, and he would make her some iced tea as a reward. She saw this garden come to fruition with her very own eyes — was she here to witness its end, too?

She wanted to scream. It was as though her life started falling apart the moment her papa had encountered Javert again, there at the farmer’s market. That whatever they talked about during those times together had inspired Valjean to- plan to leave her behind forever. That Marius and Javert both knew her father’s past but she was left in the dark. That Valjean would believe her life was better without him- After everything he had suffered through to get her!!

She heard Javert approach from behind. She didn’t bother wiping her tears when she turned around.

She logically knew that perhaps Javert truly didn’t know about everything. Perhaps he wasn’t at fault. But she hadn’t forgotten about what he had said earlier, that he caused her mother’s death. She didn’t know what she should make of it, but if he caused her father’s death, too, she knew she would never forgive him. She mustered the strength to look at him one last time, and jammed a finger into his chest.

“Find him.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter Text

Valjean watched as his phone screen glowed and dimmed. The ringer had long been turned off at this point, but he watched as Cosette and Marius attempted to call him. When he didn’t pick up, the calls eventually died down. That was for the best, anyway. They didn’t need to worry about him anymore. A part of him told himself to turn his phone off, but a part of him — still desperate for connection — wanted to know that they still cared, to see any sign that they were trying to reach out, even if he did not deserve it.

The phone fell silent once more. He closed his eyes and counted the minutes — time did not seem to pass for him, though the numbers ticked along on the phone’s clock. He should wait for the battery to die on its own, then there would be no way to find him.

This time, the phone lit up with an unknown caller. Valjean’s eyes focused for a moment, wondering if he should do anything.

Do it. A part of himself said. It didn’t matter who it was, anyway. You don’t have to say anything.

Hesitantly, Valjean tapped and accepted the call.

“Valjean!” Javert’s voice tore itself out of the speaker. “Valjean! Are you there?”

“I-“ Valjean replied instinctively, out of shock. He tried to cover his mouth, but it was too late. Javert had heard him.

“Are you in any sort of danger?” Javert asked.

“…”

“I know you’re there. Just answer me that, please.”

“… No.” Valjean croaked. He winced at the sound of his voice, hoarse and broken.

“Alright,” From the other side of the line, Valjean could hear noise. Noise of people talking, of pen scratching on paper, of people typing on keyboards.

After a brief pause, he heard the sound of Javert breathing again, and then his voice once more.

“Where have you been?”

“Nowhere.”

“Your daughter and son-in-law are worried sick, you know.”

Valjean winced, biting his lip.

“I’m worried, too. I thought you were just having a bad day, but you never came back.” Valjean heard Javert exhale, and a fumbling sound, as though he picked the phone up from a table. “I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

Javert sighed.

“You don’t have to say anything, just don’t hang up, please.”

Valjean hummed weakly, hoping that was enough for Javert to hear. There was still noise on the other end, but less distinct now.

“Did you know why I jumped? Probably not. I never told you.

“It wasn’t the first time I thought about doing it. I almost jumped off a building when I was a kid, and I never particularly thought of myself as alive, since then. Do you know why? I didn’t want to live to see what sort of man I would become. I had little past to begin with, and no future to dream of. So what was the point?

“And that night, I was afraid. What would become of me if I arrested you, or if I had chosen not to? I never had to think about my future, because I never imagined that I could have one. To live and see the future terrified me. That’s why I jumped.

“But then, like the time I was a kid, I lived. I lived and kept living. I resigned and started doing something else. I started keeping bees. Who on earth could have predicted that? If I had died, I wouldn’t have found out that I enjoyed beekeeping, that I would see you again, that I would- like having you around.”

Valjean could feel tears threatening his eyes, though he remained silent. This was too much, Javert was treading too close to something still sore and tender.

“Alright? So whatever’s got you thinking that you’re better off gone or dead, you better realize that-”

Valjean ended the call, curling into himself further. Javert tried calling again, but Valjean did not pick up.

Were Valjean more attuned to his surroundings, perhaps he could hear, in the distance, the angry screech of tires. A door slammed and shoved open, and urgent footsteps against the paved path.

He did not hear any of that, so he was quite startled when the door to his garden shed slammed once, twice, and then burst open in front of him.

In front of the light of day spilling inwards, stood Javert, breathing heavily, phone in hand.

“He’s here!” Javert yelled, and Valjean heard reciprocating voices and shouts.

“How did you-”

Javert raised his phone, the dark screen briefly reflecting the daylight.

I think they can triangulate your location using cell towers nowadays.

“Oh.” That was why Javert asked him not to hang up, wasn’t it?

“I told you, you aren’t a fucking bee,” Javert said, frustrated but with no venom in his voice. Valjean tried not to laugh. Right. Javert’s first bee colony came from a shed infestation. It was stupid, wasn’t it? To be so moved by a swarm of bees.

Javert glanced to the side. Besides the paramedics that came to examine Valjean’s condition, he heard the familiar sound of-

“Papa!”

Her forgiveness and understanding came so suddenly that Valjean could barely register any of it. But he didn’t need to know the words — her words, her smile, her embrace… he wiped his eyes as Cosette and the paramedics guided him on the stretcher. They were going to help him get better, regain his strength, and Valjean realized he looked forward to it.

“Wait,” He reached out, grabbing Javert’s arm. “What you said, on the phone…”

Javert huffed, a vulnerable smile on his lips. “It was true. All of it.” Javert looked at the paramedics. “We can talk later.”

Valjean nodded in promise, feeling the thick callouses of Javert’s hand brush against his as he was whisked away. Were those always there?

———

They never managed to have that talk. Javert did not visit him in the hospital, but he had Cosette deliver messages and jars of jam.

“He’s shy, isn’t he?” Cosette commented, admiring the handwriting on the label. “He told me everything. Even things he didn’t need to. I wanted to be mad at him, for everything he did to mom, but I see everything he’s doing now… and I can’t find it in me to be angry. Is that how you felt?”

“I don’t think I was ever mad at him.”

“You have the right to, if you want to be.”

“I’m more curious about what he’s doing now,”

“Oh,” Cosette giggled. “He asked me not to tell.”

“And?”

“He bribed me in honey to keep my mouth shut.” Cosette grinned.

“I’m scared now.” Valjean replied playfully. Cosette giggled as she placed her hand in his in a brief touch. How marvelous it was, that everything would be alright so quickly.

“I can testify that he did not burn our house down.” Cosette said, mock-seriously with a hand in the air.

“Perhaps you guys have painted the walls bright yellow like a road sign.”

“I am unable to provide any comment.” A pause, and the two of them burst out laughing.

Yes, indeed, it would not take long for Valjean to recover. When the day came, Cosette was barely able to contain her anticipation and excitement. She bit her lip slightly as she drove them home, occasionally glancing at Valjean, as though she was deciding if she should reveal the surprise.

“Close your eyes,” She said, one hand turning the key in the door. Obediently, Valjean let her guide him through the house, past the living room and kitchen, out to the garden — He heard Javert’s familiar huff before Cosette told him to open his eyes.

Valjean could feel tears threatening his eyes already — the garden, which had been left to wither and die, had been completely reworked and restored. New bushes and flowers were planted, the stone paths weeded, and, at the far end — were Javert’s beehives.

“Well,” Javert said, voice trembling slightly. “What do you thi-” The last syllable came out more as an ooph as Valjean grappled him in a hug.

“Thank you,” Those words failed to do Valjean justice. At the moment, no language could possibly contain nor convey the amount of joy and gratitude he had towards Javert. He felt Javert relax, wrapping his arms around Valjean’s.

“Some of the flowers need some time to take because the season isn’t right but-”

“Shhh,” Valjean nuzzled into Javert’s neck, feeling tears threaten him.

“He shushed me.” Javert huffed. “Your father shushed me.” Valjean heard Cosette’s light chuckle.

“… You really got better.” Javert murmured.

“I love you,”

Valjean didn’t need to hear it to know it’s true, but Javert said it anyway. “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

“So, you’ve moved in.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, just… curious how that happened. Since I didn’t know about it.”

Valjean turned as he heard Cosette fake cough, then he noticed Javert’s face turning a new shade of red.

“Tell him yourself,” Cosette snorted and walked away.

“I uh… accidentally set my kitchen on fire.”

“What??”

“I was uh, rendering some beeswax and making candles, and I didn’t notice that the steam cooker was out of water. So the wax got heated directly, and…” Javert sighed, covering his eyes with his hand. “Since I was spending so much time here already, Cosette let me stay until the house gets fixed. “

“I see. So this is a temporary thing.”

Javert’s face seemed to become even redder. “I mean, unless you want it to be permanent.”

Now it was Valjean’s turn to blush. “Or is it moving too fast?” Javert asked again.

“I- I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you just reminded me-“ Javert ran off and rifled through his belongings.

He pulled out a small gift box that was wrapped in yellow ribbon.

“House warming gift,” He handed it to Valjean. “Pun intended.”

Valjean untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside were two pale yellow candles, resting on some dried flowers and paper packing. The colour of the candles were exceptional — beeswax from cell cappings are most prized by waxworkers and candlemakers due to their beautiful colour and texture. Cappings are relatively free from the debris and dirt bees track in, not yet old enough to age and darken, and its smell hasn't faded as much compared to combwax. The candles Javert gave him must have been from the best of the best.

Valjean looked up, over to the mantle where his silver candlesticks stood. They were a symbol of the Bishop’s grace, and to a new beginning in his life. He smiled. It really all came together so easily.

“I know just the place for it.”