Work Text:
Éponine sat nervously on the passenger’s seat of Javert’s car, looking around. It was old, but clean, and completely devoid of any personal items at all save for a black rosary hanging from the rear-view mirror.
“Cosette's dad gave it to me,” Javert explained. He must have noticed her eyeing it.
“You’re Catholic?” Éponine inquired.
Javert let out a laugh, loud and short, and Éponine jumped. “No, Hell no. Monsieur Fauchelevent is, though.” He rested his hand on the back of the headrest of Éponine’s seat, craning his head around as he backed out of the Fauchelevents’ driveway. “Now, where are we headed?”
Éponine gave him her address as they turned off of the Fauchelevents’ small street.
They passed the first five minutes of the trip in silence. Éponine gazed out the window, still attempting to process everything that had happened that day, with Cosette, with Cosette's father, with everything. Without intending to, she let out a long sigh.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Javert glance at her quickly, before returning his eyes to the road.
“You moved out?” He asked eventually.
“Yeah.” Éponine replied. “It got,” she paused, struggling to find the right words.
Javert shot her another glance.
“It wasn’t worth it anymore,” she finished simply.
“It’s brave of you,” Javert said. Éponine noted the discomfort in his voice. “Choosing not to be part of that life. Not to falling into a life of crime. It would have been easy for you.”
Éponine raised her eyebrows, but he didn't seem to notice.
The silence returned; Éponine’s gaze returned to the window, and her thoughts returned to Cosette.
It seemed like the worst kind of lie. Cosette was almost angelic; Éponine hadn’t actually expected her to agree to do anything with her, let alone go to prom with her. She almost regretted the decision to even ask. She wondered how long she would be able to keep it up, this lie.
Surely it wouldn’t last. Cosette was beautiful, intelligent. She had a bright future ahead of her. What did Éponine have? A dead end job. Soon a high school diploma, but that hardly mattered anymore. She had a dingy, one-room apartment, a criminal for a father, and absolutely nothing to offer Cosette.
After several more minutes of silence, Javert sighed, and said, in a strained voice, “You okay?”
Éponine didn’t turn toward him, but kept staring out the window. “It just feels like a lie, you know?” She admitted.
Javert sighed, and Éponine picked out a trace of annoyance. “What does?”
“All of it,” Éponine replied. “With Cosette. When I’m with her it’s like I’m looking into someone else’s life and someone else’s happiness. Like I’m living a borrowed life. It won’t last, it never lasts.”
“She seems to like you.” Javert’s voice was still strained and somewhat annoyed. Éponine wondered why he felt compelled to have this conversation at all.
“She’ll regret it eventually,” Éponine said. She stifled a yawn; it was after one in the morning, and she had been at school early and worked all evening. “She’s got everything going for her, and I’m the poor daughter of -- well, you know my parents.”
“Yeah,” Javert conceded. Éponine noticed the absence of his earlier annoyance, but winced at his agreement to her own self-pity.
“Whatever, I’m sorry,” Éponine started, but Javert cut her off.
“Me too, you know?”
“What?”
“Je -- I mean, Cosette’s father, Monsieur Fauchelevent,” Javert stammered. “He’s like Cosette.”
“You’re a cop, I'm just the daughter of a couple low-life criminals,” Éponine replied.
“Police officer,” Javert admonished, almost instinctively. Éponine saw him shake his head; she had not realized she had turned toward him. “I’m both.”
“A cop and a police officer?”
“No, you idiot,” Javert snapped. He shook his head, as if to apologize for the outburst. “My parents weren’t much better than yours. I never knew my father, he got himself thrown in prison sometime between knocking up my mom and my being born.”
“I’m sorry,” Éponine said, unsure of herself.
“My mom... when we weren’t living with one of her boyfriends, we were broke, and when we were, they hated me,” he admitted.
Éponine just stared at him, wondering what the social protocol was for listening to the secrets of one’s prom date’s father’s boyfriend, who also happened to be the cop that once tried to arrest their father.
“I knew growing up I’d probably end up just like my dad, or one of my mom’s boyfriends,” he went on. Éponine felt compelled to say something, but Javert wasn’t bothering to give her a chance anyway. “Either fight the law or fight for the law. It was one or the other.”
Éponine made a short, agreeing noise.
Javert sighed. “It’s a struggle, kid,” he admitted. “It took some time to stop feeling like he was going to see right through me, see who I really am, see the scum I could have been.”
“But he loves you?” Éponine cursed how soft and desperate her voice sounded.
Javert just let out another short laugh. “I guess he does.”
Éponine didn’t reply.
“Most people don’t change,” Javert blurted. “Most people can’t change, and the ones who can usually don’t. Two years ago, I would have said nobody can change, certainly not people like us.”
“Like us?”
“The miserable.”
“But we can?”
“I could,” Javert corrected. “But I told you, it isn’t easy. I don’t know about you yet.”
Éponine regarded him, a look of quiet desperation on her face.
“Don’t give me that look,” he snapped. “If you don’t want to end up like your parents, you know what you have to do. Don’t look at me for answers. If you don’t want to end up like them, just don't break the law. There's no secret to it, Christ.”
The car braked suddenly; Éponine had not realized they had reached her building. Without saying anything, she grabbed her backpack from near her feet and stepped out of the car. Before she could finish closing the door, however, Javert had shut off the car and exited it as well.
Éponine gazed at him impatiently as he looked up at the apartment building Éponine called home.
“This is a bad part of town,” he said.
“Thanks,” Éponine replied bitterly.
Javert sighed again. “It’s late. At least let me walk you upstairs.”
Éponine shot him an annoyed look. “Fine.”
The car let out a short beep as Javert locked it, and he followed Éponine into the building and up several dingy flights of stairs.
They came to Éponine’s room on the third floor. The paint was peeling on the door, as it was on most of the walls in the hallway.
“Well, I’m home,” she said, nodding at the door.
Javert gazed at her expectantly, and Éponine sighed. She fumbled through her backpack and pulled out her keys, unlocking the door.
Without being invited, Javert followed her inside. Facing away from him, she winced. Her apartment was tiny and poorly maintained; just a single room consisting of a bed, a small desk and what could barely be considered a kitchen. The door to the bathroom was just inside the door to the hallway.
“You pay for this yourself?” Javert asked. His voice was devoid of judgement, but also of pity; if anything, he sounded somewhat impressed.
“My mom helps,” Éponine replied quietly. “With rent. I pay for everything else.”
“You go to school full time?”
“Yeah.”
“Good for you, kid,” Javert said, echoing the sentiment from their conversation at the Fauchelevents’.
Éponine sat down on the edge of her bed, falling back until she could stare at the ceiling while keeping her feet on the ground.
“It’s not bad for a teenager, but money must be tight,” Javert said. Éponine had closed her eyes, but imagined him gazing around the small apartment. She prayed he didn’t notice the general state of disrepair everything was in, or the all-but-empty cupboard space.
“If you can barely afford this place, how do you expect to afford prom?” Javert inquired.
“Can we not go there?” Éponine snapped.
“Skipping meals to buy a dress is stupid, Éponine,” he warned.
Éponine didn’t reply.
“Look,” Javert said, and his voice took on a stern tone she hadn’t heard earlier. Without meaning to, she sat up and turned to him.
“I admire what you’re doing here,” he continued. “I couldn’t have managed this when I was your age, and it’s great you left your crook parents, but,” he faltered, then let out a deep sigh. His hand fumbled to the back pocket of his jeans and he pulled out his wallet. “I never want to hear about this again, and I don’t want an argument from you, and if you tell Cosette or her father I’ll,”
Éponine stared at him, waiting for him to finish the threat.
Javert let out an annoyed grunt as he pulled out several bills from his wallet and dropped them on the desk.
“Buy yourself a God damn dress and some nice shoes and stop skipping meals like an idiot,” he barked.
He looked at Éponine as if expecting a response, but Éponine had no reply for him.
“I’m,” Javert started. It was odd to see him off his game; before tonight, Éponine had only seen him while he was on the job, and this was far from the confident and authoritative officer he was then. He turned toward the door. “Get some sleep.”
Éponine just kept staring at him as he made his way to the door. His hand was on the doorknob before she managed to speak up.
“Thank you,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“Don’t tell Cosette’s father. He'll never let me hear the end of it.”