Chapter Text
Saints, as a rule, do not engage in sexual intercourse. So much has been ascertained through Christian mythology. Monsieur le Maire is a saint. Ergo, Monsieur le Maire does not engage in sexual intercourse.
Damned syllogisms, Javert thought bitterly. He tried to find a false premise that would render the conclusion untrue. He failed.
This knowledge settled heavily in Javert’s stomach as he approached the mayor’s office to make his usual report on the town’s criminal matters. What had originated by Monsieur le Maire’s request as only a monthly report had become bi-weekly under Javert’s insistence that the good mayor needed to be updated more often lest he be caught unawares by any adverse situation, and Madeleine had agreed. When Javert showed up once a week to give his report, neither man said anything.
It was only through the exercise of an enormous strength of will that Javert managed to stop himself from appearing daily in the mayor’s office.
He knocked on the door with some amount of trepidation.
“Come in,” a warm voice called out. It was a voice that haunted his dreams and his less guarded waking moments. It was a voice against which he was helpless but to obey.
The mayor glanced up from his desk. A faint smile announced his pleasure at the sight of his visitor.
“Ah, Javert! I see that you are early today.”
Javert tensed, fearing that the mayor would demand an explanation for his untimely arrival, mentally berating himself for finishing his work too quickly and walking too fast.
But the mayor merely continued with his habitual pleasantness, “Please, sit down and help yourself to some biscuits while I finish with this bit of business.”
Javert did. The biscuit tasted too sweet, like a forbidden joy.
It was winter, and the walls were not thick enough to keep out the chill. The mayor’s hands were wrapped in supple leather gloves that did not hinder their flexibility while protecting them from the frost.
“O, that I were a glove upon that hand…”
The mayor shot him a quizzical glance. “Hmm, what’s that, Inspector?”
“No—nothing, Monsieur. A silly story I read last night, is all. It’s about—no. It’s about nothing. It was stupid.”
“A silly story about nothing, eh? Perhaps you will find, my dear Inspector, that nothing may prove to be the most enjoyable of all things.”
He scarcely heard the words, so busy was he being distracted by the lips from which they emerged. He wished that the mayor would not throw phrases like “my dear” around so casually, that he might believe they actually meant something when applied to him.
“Perhaps…perhaps.”
If the mayor took note of his obvious distraction, he did not remark upon it. Soon he put down his quill and leaned back in his seat, and Javert began his report.
Monsieur le Maire was an excellent audience. Unless some truly pressing matter weighted upon his mind, he devoted his entire self to the speaker and made them feel as if they alone were his entire world. It was such an attitude that persuaded the townspeople to come forward to him with their troubles and concerns, that made him a much-beloved mayor. Therefore, his attentiveness was not something directed only towards Javert. Javert found the need to remind himself of this multiple times, lest his hopes grow too high.
Though his reports had become more frequent, it also seemed that he had more to say in each, despite the slowly declining rate of crime in Montreuil-sur-Mer. He attributed this oddity to his desire for thoroughness. He will not fail in his duties to the mayor by leaving the man ill-informed due to his lack of attention to detail.
By the time he finished, the skies outside the window were very dark. Perhaps having all of the mayor’s attention on himself was too sweet an addiction.
Nevertheless, it was one he must quit. He had been keeping the man away from his supper and a warm bed.
He quickly steered his thoughts away from beds.
They bid each other farewell and goodnight at the door. Just as the mayor was about to turn away, Javert found his hand grasping the man’s forearm without any memory of how. He released it on the instant as if he held in his grips not flesh, but molten lava. Or precious diamonds that he was too afraid of damaging with his carelessness.
“Javert?”
“I—” he wrecked his brain for an excuse. “I only ask that you be very careful on your way home, Monsieur.”
A concerned frown marred that almost marble-like forehead. “May I ask why, Inspector?”
“Even under your guidance, Monsieur, criminal elements still thrive in this town. Other men might find themselves jealous of your financial and political success and…ah, your native endowments. Men can often be petty. You would do well to be wary of them, Monsieur le Maire.”
“If you are so concerned for my wellbeing, Monsieur l’Inspecteur, why don’t you accompany me? I am certain that with you by my side, no harm could befall my person.”
Javert tried very hard not to dwell on the mayor’s person. He convinced himself that protecting his superior was part of his duties as police inspector, and he would be acting in the public interest to accept.
“As you will, Monsieur le Maire.”
He dared not speak his name, not even in his own mind. It would give too much away, he feared. Ma-de-leine. The sounds burned like liquid fire in his dreams. He cherished them like something sacred. Sacred, and unattainable but in dreams.