Javert survives the Seine and finds redemption. Javert/Original Character
ignore that, as he neatly hung up his overcoat in the small wardrobe. His eyes fell upon the stylish
garments Victoria had given him. Although he'd insisted that it wasn't necessary, Victoria had altered
the shirtsleeves to fit, and sent it along with him. Victoria was very skillful when it came to keeping
clothing at its best. His uniform had never looked better, even after the dunking it had gone through.
It was a good thing, too. It very likely played a part in the unusually light penalty he paid to return to
his job. That was a miracle in itself.
Only days ago Javert would have never tolerated a member of the police force to disappear as he
did, not returning to duty until after he had been reported dead by some observant passer by, who
had happened along as Javert was falling. Perhaps a body would never be found, but Javert was
certain there would be an extended search made. No search was initiated, they told him the unrest all
over the city placed such matters on relatively low priority.
It was also miraculous, that Javert had asked to return to duty instead of asking for his own
immediate dismissal, on those very grounds. However, Javert's past record spoke for itself, and
instead of dismissal or prosecution, he would have to return to duty, on probation, and for a week of
double shifts...a ridiculously small price to pay, he observed. What had happened to the force in the
short time he was missing? Had the world changed so much while he was away?
Javert was certainly a changed man. He had accepted his penalty without complaint. But it was
different now. Compassion had entered the picture. Was there room in the police force for
such...feelings? What would Jean Valjean think of him now? Javert no longer had any desire to bring
Valjean to justice. As far as he was concerned, justice had already been served a thousand times
over. Javert did not know how to live with it, but here he was, still living. He had been given a second
chance. It was something he'd never believed in before, but perhaps, like so many other things in his
life, he'd been wrong about that too.
And now there was Victoria. Never, not even in his youth, had Javert been so captivated by a woman.
He could still see her, in soft focus; the beautiful dark eyes...the raven hair. He could still feel her
soft touch. Javert decided that he must see her again. He coughed painfully as he lay down on the
bed, and as he floated into sleep; the dim vision of Victoria achieved perfect clarity in comforting