The Spanish Inquisition
New member
Well, if people can post thier CT fanfic here, I can post my Les Miserables fanfic, right?
Here we go. A Story In Which I Attempt to Redeem Inspector Javert.
The Inspector was glad that at least he had his hat back. It had appeared, mysteriously, when he had emerged from the river and climbed, surprisingly dry, onto the green bank. He'd been sitting there for a while. It may have been days, but it may have been months.
Days did not seem to pass normally, and he did not need to sleep. Had he been alive, he would have loved this extra energy, but it did him no good now. There was a town nearby, and there were people, but they lived peacefully and harmoniously, and so had no need for him.
He sat instead on the river bank, dangling bare feet in the pl
easantly cool water. He felt that its constant current was the only steady thing in this new world. Even the stars above him were different than the ones he'd gazed at when he was alive.
He heard footsteps behind him, but did not turn around. People came down to the river sometimes, to swim or catch fish. He did not mind their presence, and they paid no attention to him. It was lonely, and he almost wished that he had someone to talk to during this eternity, though he'd never had anyone in life.
The stranger behind him was not here to swim, though. He sat on the bank next to the Inspector.
"They told me I'd find you here," he said. The Inspector turned his
head to look at the man. He was not surprised when he saw who it was.
"Jean Valjean. Of course. You're here now, too?"
He felt a sudden weight on his heart. Was his peace to always be interrupted by this man?
"Javert, why are you here? What reason had you to die?"
"What reason did I have to live?" The Inspector shrugged.
"Did you really have nothing? Was there no-one who would have mourned your death?"
"I'm sure they have not noticed I am gone. I have never in my life had the companionship of a friend nor felt the embrace of a brother. I had justice. That is all."
There was a moment of silence, and both men stared into space. The Inspector wished Valjean would go away. It was strange to talk to him so calmly and conversationally. How could Valjean act as if nothing had passed between them? As if they were acquaintances meeting for a Sunday picnic?
"If I had been there," Valjean said at last, "I would have saved you."
"You would have failed. I would have fought you. But what does it matter now? I tried to escape you by death, and you follow after me."
The Inspector was slightly irritated, but he felt rather sad.
"I am alone now, too," said Valjean, "I have lost my angel."
"She will follow. Everyone must," the Inspector said, "You are lucky. No-one will come for me."
He reflected for a moment on his situation. He was to sit on this bank alone for eternity. Now he was starting to feel sorry for himself. This was unlike him, he must stop. He turned to face Valjean to change the subject, and saw tears rolling down his face.
"I can imagine what it's like for you, Javert. I was alone once. Nineteen years in prison is a terrible sort of solitude."
"You don't need to feel sorry for me," The Inspector mumbled, embarrassed by the man's tears.
"I was shown love once and learned to love in return. But you have had none, so you do not know how. How sad your life must have been."
Javert did not answer. He felt as if he were going to break into tears, which had not happened since he was an infant. He felt, quite suddenly, very lonely, more so than he'd ever felt during his solitary patrols.
"Why are you here, Valjean?" he said softly, "Surely you know other people here. Why did you come to find me?'
"If I had not, you would have had no-one to talk with. I hoped this life would be a better one for you."
His kindness struck a chord in his heart, and the Inspector turned
away so Jean Valjean would not see his tears.
"Don't be ashamed. They are only tears, Javert."
"You. You offer your friendship, even after how I chased you through life?"
"You did your duty. I forgive any insult you've given me.
"Thank you. " It was all he could say, for gratitude overcame him. The heart of stone cracked, and he wept into his hands. It had been so long since he'd cried, but now he could not stop the hot tears from pouring down his face.
He felt Valjean's strong arms around him, holding him close, as if he were a brother, not an enemy. It was the first embrace the Inspector could remember receiving. He returned it, clutching at Valjean's shirt as if his life depended on it. The sat like that for a long time, and the bank was silent except for the Inspector's sobs.
At last, he recovered himself and drew back.
"You should be proud of yourself, Valjean, for you have made a stone weep."
The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.
"I must tell you, though, I will make a terrible friend. I am unused to it."
"It does not matter," said Valjean, "You have an eternity to learn."
Here we go. A Story In Which I Attempt to Redeem Inspector Javert.
The Inspector was glad that at least he had his hat back. It had appeared, mysteriously, when he had emerged from the river and climbed, surprisingly dry, onto the green bank. He'd been sitting there for a while. It may have been days, but it may have been months.
Days did not seem to pass normally, and he did not need to sleep. Had he been alive, he would have loved this extra energy, but it did him no good now. There was a town nearby, and there were people, but they lived peacefully and harmoniously, and so had no need for him.
He sat instead on the river bank, dangling bare feet in the pl
easantly cool water. He felt that its constant current was the only steady thing in this new world. Even the stars above him were different than the ones he'd gazed at when he was alive.
He heard footsteps behind him, but did not turn around. People came down to the river sometimes, to swim or catch fish. He did not mind their presence, and they paid no attention to him. It was lonely, and he almost wished that he had someone to talk to during this eternity, though he'd never had anyone in life.
The stranger behind him was not here to swim, though. He sat on the bank next to the Inspector.
"They told me I'd find you here," he said. The Inspector turned his
head to look at the man. He was not surprised when he saw who it was.
"Jean Valjean. Of course. You're here now, too?"
He felt a sudden weight on his heart. Was his peace to always be interrupted by this man?
"Javert, why are you here? What reason had you to die?"
"What reason did I have to live?" The Inspector shrugged.
"Did you really have nothing? Was there no-one who would have mourned your death?"
"I'm sure they have not noticed I am gone. I have never in my life had the companionship of a friend nor felt the embrace of a brother. I had justice. That is all."
There was a moment of silence, and both men stared into space. The Inspector wished Valjean would go away. It was strange to talk to him so calmly and conversationally. How could Valjean act as if nothing had passed between them? As if they were acquaintances meeting for a Sunday picnic?
"If I had been there," Valjean said at last, "I would have saved you."
"You would have failed. I would have fought you. But what does it matter now? I tried to escape you by death, and you follow after me."
The Inspector was slightly irritated, but he felt rather sad.
"I am alone now, too," said Valjean, "I have lost my angel."
"She will follow. Everyone must," the Inspector said, "You are lucky. No-one will come for me."
He reflected for a moment on his situation. He was to sit on this bank alone for eternity. Now he was starting to feel sorry for himself. This was unlike him, he must stop. He turned to face Valjean to change the subject, and saw tears rolling down his face.
"I can imagine what it's like for you, Javert. I was alone once. Nineteen years in prison is a terrible sort of solitude."
"You don't need to feel sorry for me," The Inspector mumbled, embarrassed by the man's tears.
"I was shown love once and learned to love in return. But you have had none, so you do not know how. How sad your life must have been."
Javert did not answer. He felt as if he were going to break into tears, which had not happened since he was an infant. He felt, quite suddenly, very lonely, more so than he'd ever felt during his solitary patrols.
"Why are you here, Valjean?" he said softly, "Surely you know other people here. Why did you come to find me?'
"If I had not, you would have had no-one to talk with. I hoped this life would be a better one for you."
His kindness struck a chord in his heart, and the Inspector turned
away so Jean Valjean would not see his tears.
"Don't be ashamed. They are only tears, Javert."
"You. You offer your friendship, even after how I chased you through life?"
"You did your duty. I forgive any insult you've given me.
"Thank you. " It was all he could say, for gratitude overcame him. The heart of stone cracked, and he wept into his hands. It had been so long since he'd cried, but now he could not stop the hot tears from pouring down his face.
He felt Valjean's strong arms around him, holding him close, as if he were a brother, not an enemy. It was the first embrace the Inspector could remember receiving. He returned it, clutching at Valjean's shirt as if his life depended on it. The sat like that for a long time, and the bank was silent except for the Inspector's sobs.
At last, he recovered himself and drew back.
"You should be proud of yourself, Valjean, for you have made a stone weep."
The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.
"I must tell you, though, I will make a terrible friend. I am unused to it."
"It does not matter," said Valjean, "You have an eternity to learn."
. I have read,after all,stuff like the scarlet pimpernel.
) 
