Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Inspector Javert,

Meet me at the Café Coquille at 7pm this evening.

Sincerely,

Madeleine”

Javert looked up from the note. “That’s all?”

“Yes, sir.”

Javert sighed. “Very well. Thank you.”

The messenger bowed slightly and left the room. It was 4pm, and Javert was due to end his shift soon. Now he would have to head straight home after work, and inevitably take a frustratingly long amount of time trying to figure out what to wear to meet the mayor at the café. Strange, this invitation. If it was for work, he’d have met with Madeleine on his shift, presumably. Or in an office. This seemed too casual of a time and place… suspicious. Worrying. Frustrating! What to wear, what to assume…?

An hour later, Javert was walking home, still trying to figure out this odd invitation from the mayor. When he walked in, he headed straight for the wash basin and removed his clothes, untied his hair, and cleaned himself so he could look presentable for the mayor after a long, tiring shift. Afterwards, he dried his hair as much as possible, and finally decided upon a casual but still respectable outfit. It consisted of black pants and tall black boots, a white button up shirt, a grey waistcoat with minor embroidered details around the cuffs and lapels, a grey vest, and a black satin ribbon for his hair. At 6:30pm, he left his apartment.

“Ah, Inspector! Over here!” The excitable Madeleine stood up and waved Javert over to his table. Javert nearly cringed at the mayor’s enthusiasm. He hated causing a scene… or rather, being part of one. He joined the older man, who smiled at him. “Sit down, my friend. Relax! I am here just for a chat.” Javert raised an eyebrow, and obeyed. “Allow me to order you some coffee?” Immediately, Javert began to protest, waving his hand, and trying to verbally stop Madeleine, but the man seemed determined to chat, indeed. “Today is your birthday, after all!”

At that, Javert froze. He felt himself go pale. Was today really…?

“January 7, isn’t it?”

“How did you know that?” Javert was stunned and nearly offended.

“I like to keep track of my employees’ birthdays. And you are my Chief Inspector… you are my employee, essentially!” Madeleine chuckled. “Or a very close working partner, anyway.”

Javert was shocked. He himself had forgotten his own birthday (which wasn’t unusual, since he had never celebrated it before), but now the mayor had made it his business to know what day it was, and to make a fuss over it! It was embarrassing, quite frankly. Javert was a private, personal man. He didn’t like others knowing much about him. Now here he was, with the mayor of his town, buying him coffee and wanting a chat.

“I don’t know what to say, Monsieur le Maire. No one, including myself, has really remembered my birthday, or bothered to mention it.”

“What a shame!”

“Not particularly, monsieur, no. It has never meant much to me. Just another day, really.”

“You did not celebrate it growing up?”

Javert nearly laughed out loud. “I doubt my own mother would have remembered what day I was born!”

“How sad!”

Javert shrugged. A coffee was placed in front of him. He glanced up, surprised that it had already been ordered somehow, and brought out, without him realizing it. “Thank you,” he said to the young waitress, who smiled and bowed her head slightly before departing for the next table. He let it sit, hoping it would cool down soon.

“So, Inspector, how about that chat? I figured since today is your birthday, you could tell me a bit about yourself? I like to keep track of who I employ… their stories, you know?”

Javert sighed. If the mayor was going to find out his birthday and buy him coffee, the least he could do, he supposed, was to fill him in on a little bit of his upbringing. He probably wouldn’t like the story, Javert thought, but he could tell him a small amount to satisfy his curiosity. “Where shall I begin, Monsieur?”

Madeleine smiled. “The beginning, of course! Where were you born?”

Chapter Text

“A prison, naturally. I am the son of a Gypsy fortune-teller whore and a galley slave, a prisoner,” he spat. It was hard to keep calm and keep the distaste out of his voice when speaking of his parents. Madeleine’s eyes widened slightly. “I grew up in that prison. I learned to read and write from the guards… some were nice enough. Most were abusive drunks who became drunker on power. I came to know some of the other children who were raised there. Other children of prisoners and guards. We were put to use from an early age, of course. Running errands, helping where we could. Not much else to do, anyway.”

“Ah, so you came by your job naturally,” Madeleine attempted to lighten the mood. “No wonder you’re so good at it! You’ve had plenty of practice.”

Javert grimaced. “I suppose you could say that.” He hesitantly took a sip of his coffee, which he quickly found was still too hot. He set the mug back down.

“So you must have become friends with the other children! Tell me about them.” Madeleine was smiling. It was almost hard to disappoint him with the painful details, but Javert was a very honest man…

“There was one other boy, named Michel, who was nice to me. The others were not.”

Madeleine interrupted, “Wait, why not?” He truly looked confused.

Javert smirked. “I am part Romani, monsieur. Surely it is hard to forget, when you see my darker skin and hair.”

In truth, Madeleine had noticed those and could not forget that fact, but it made no difference to him at all. In fact, he could not see why anyone would look down upon him (or anyone) for it. He found Javert all the more attractive for it, if he was being entirely honest with himself. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear away those thoughts. This was not the best time to get distracted. “I nearly did forget, Inspector. I cannot see why it would matter what your heritage is.”

Javert shrugged. “Most people do not trust Romani people… they think they are all lazy, thieves, bad luck… all kinds of things. Unfortunately, my mother fit in with the stereotype. But I sought to raise myself up away from my heritage and family. I strive every day to be successful and beat the odds. I do not wish to be seen how my parents were. I came from the gutter, monsieur, but I will be damned if I let it keep me there.” The passion in his voice was hard to ignore. Madeleine’s eyes again grew wide.

“I did not realize all of this. You are truly remarkable, Inspector. I wish… I wish I could be as strong and brave and talented as you are. We could all take a lesson from you!”

Javert bowed his head, color rising in his tan cheeks. “That is far too kind of you, monsieur. I do not deserve praise,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Nonsense! I am honored to have you guarding this town, Inspector Javert. You are truly the finest there is.”

Javert did not know how to respond to that, so he kept his head bowed and tried another sip of his coffee. Luckily it was cool enough now for him to take several sips in silence.

Chapter Text

As a child, Javert was quiet (which was still true of his adult self). He was calm, intelligent, thoughtful (again, all things carried over to adulthood)… everything everyone expected he could and would not be, given his background. He would have been very well liked, in fact, if it weren’t for his half Romani heritage. It wasn’t fair. He was looked down on and treated very poorly just for being born. Seeing the way he was treated made him want to treat others better, but it also made him want to prove that he wasn’t going to be like the others of his kind. He would work hard, be educated, and help lock up the scum of society who couldn’t realize that they could become better too. But he wasn’t mean or unfair. He was cool, calm, and firm with everyone. He was a serious child, and became a serious man. But not cruel. Young Javert (who had never known any other name) became friends with another boy in his class, Michel. Michel actually shared Javert’s birthday, which instantly had given them something in common. Javert found Michel to be intelligent and hard-working, which he admired. Most of the other children were loud, annoying, and didn’t care about their work. But Michel also had a good sense of humor, somehow. Javert was a very stoic, straight-faced boy, hardly ever truly amused by anything (already so jaded at such a young age), but he liked when Michel joked or smiled. Michel put Javert’s nerves at ease. Sometimes he could even coax a small smirk from Javert… he’d learned how Javert’s mind worked.

“Some of the nicer and more educated guards would also help us learn to read and write,” Javert continued his story. “Michel and I took up those offers any chance we got. We wanted to prove that we could become productive members of society.”

“Was Michel also… of a different cultural background?”

“No, I don’t believe so. He looked like the other children. He was an orphan, though, as far as we knew, so we never found out for sure who his parents were or where they came from.”

Madeleine sighed. “How sad.”

“It didn’t seem to bother him too much. Maybe his lack of knowledge about his background was a good thing? Maybe it helped keep his spirits up or not get into trouble.”

Madeleine raised his eyebrows. “That’s a very interesting point.”

“Of course, we still got in trouble for other things anyway.”

This really caught Madeleine’s attention. “You? In trouble!?” He laughed. “I cannot believe that!”

“Well, in trouble with the other children. They’d ‘punish’ us for being too smart or wanting to learn or better ourselves. They’d kick us and throw rocks at us for making them look bad, essentially.”

“Oh.” Madeleine’s face fell. “So the others didn’t like Michel either?”

“No. He could have blended in very well with them if he had wanted to, but for some reason, he chose to be my friend. It damned him, in the end. Often, they would try to win him over and get him to be their friend and try to get him to turn his back on me. But he was a good friend,” Javert sighed.

Madeleine smiled sadly. “A good friend is invaluable. But hard to find.” Maybe one day, he and Javert could become good friends. Someone the other could rely on.

Javert hummed an agreement and took another sip of coffee. He pulled out his pocketwatch. It was 8pm… they’d been talking for an hour. Javert was sure Madeleine wanted him to continue telling more about his life. He didn’t particularly want to, but he couldn’t very well say no, either.

Chapter Text

“So tell me more about your youth and life growing up! Do you and Michel stay in touch?”

Javert told him more brief stories about his days growing up in the prison, various tasks he was given, his friendship with Michel, the fights he got into due to his background, the guards that helped him along the way (as well as the guards who disliked him). Finally he got to a point in his life story that came back around to him and Michel, but this time as young adults, in their mid-20s, working as proper guards for the prison in which they’d grown up.

“One day in August, there was a fight amongst the prisoners. They started getting very rowdy, out of hand. Michel was a brave man, so he went in with some other guards, including myself, to stop them. But he went in to the heart of it. We tried to encourage him to not get caught up in it, but he was sometimes too… naïve, like that. He didn’t think they would hurt him, or that he could fend them off. Either way, it was a poor decision.” Javert sighed heavily and finished his coffee, which was cold by now.

Madeleine leaned forward, enraptured by the story. “So what happened?”

“He got stabbed badly a few times.”

Madeleine gasped. “But he didn’t -?”

“No, he survived. Luckily. But it was reckless. Even if his intentions were good, it was, as I said earlier, a poor decision. I told him as much when he recovered. I told him he could have gotten killed. I called him a fool.”

“It does sound like he was a little…. careless.”

“Absolutely. He went on to get injured in other fights and pursuits in his career. Most of them were due to his stubbornness and inability to realize that he didn’t have to get involved that closely in order to still be heroic or considered brave. It is more heroic, more brave, to realize a smarter way to stop a fight than to step directly into the middle of it, if you can avoid it.”

Madeleine listened in awe. Inspector Javert certainly was a wise man. He always knew he was intelligent, but he seemed to have some rather philosophical perspectives that Madeleine admired.

“Anyway, after another particularly bad one, I called him a fool again and told him he should stop trying to think he was invincible. He called me a coward, and we have not spoken since. It has been about 30 years or so, I believe.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Inspector.”

“Don’t be. I do not mourn the loss of arrogant know-it-alls in my life. He could not learn and grow from his mistakes, and I cannot waste my time worrying about things that won’t give in to changing.”

Madeleine was dumbfounded. He expected as much from Javert, but it was still somehow surprising and almost sad. The one friend he had growing up… and he couldn’t get past this trait. Javert was also a stubborn man. Madeleine understood why he and Michel had been friends, but also understood why Javert could not continue the friendship. He sat speechless, looking into his half-consumed 3rd cup of coffee.

“Would you like another coffee, Inspector?”

“In truth, Monsieur le Maire, I would like to return home,” Javert replied softly. “It is 8:45 now, and I must wake up early tomorrow.”

“Ah! Of course. Is it really that late?! Goodness. I have kept you far too long!”

To Madeleine’s surprise, Javert smiled. This in turn made Madeleine almost gasp out loud. Javert had such a beautiful smile! It occurred to him that maybe he had never seen the stoic man smile before. Javert’s pale blue eyes glittered, his tan skin reddened ever so slightly, and his teeth were… while oddly sharp and fierce-looking, they were aligned beautifully and very white. He knew that face could contort into a wolfish snarl in a split second and scare the life out of many, but the way he smiled now was soft and almost shy. Madeleine immediately thought about how many more people would be receptive towards and like Javert so much better if he just smiled like this more often. It made him look so much more approachable!

“No, Monsieur, it was oddly cathartic to speak with you this evening. I haven’t had a friend in… well, 30-something years. I don’t really speak to anyone outside of work, so I’ve never spoken of Michel or my life to anyone.”

“Javert, you can always speak with me. About anything!”

Javert’s gaze lowered and his voice softened again. “I would like that, Monsieur.”

Before Madeleine could get too overwhelmed at this newfound side to Javert, he cleared his throat and said, “Well then. You know where to find me! Now, I shall let you return home. I do believe I have learned a great deal about you tonight.”

Javert stood and bowed. “Thank you, Monsieur le Maire. And thank you for the coffee.”

“It was no problem, my friend!”

As Javert walked home, a word echoed in his mind: ‘friend.’ He had been called ‘friend.’ So effortlessly. It was not forced or ironic. Perhaps in time, they could be friends. Good friends.

A week later, a letter arrived for Javert at his residence. Javert read it, shocked. At the end, it was signed, “Your old friend, Michel.”

Javert pondered to himself the events of the past couple weeks. Perhaps his heart was not as cold and closed off as he had believed these many years.