Fool's gold ['Madeleine']

[ÉMILE JAVERT]

—1820, MONTREUIL

Everyone knew, at least with as much infallibility as there can be in rumor, who was responsible. It was common knowledge throughout the town who was behind it. The only trouble was, there was no proof. No one had ever seen one of these... incursions in progress, nor caught a glimpse of the perpetrator. How then did they know? They couldn't possibly, yet everyone was certain on the point. It was M. Madeleine, who was now also the town's mayor. This elevation seemed right to nearly everyone; but not to Inspector Javert. If anything it only increased his deep-seated suspicion of the man. That such a fellow should be made mayor! If he were anyone else, he might have protested it; his mind did rebel against it, but only so far as it went. Javert wasn't given to lengthy contemplations and so, though he didn't like it, he accepted the fact with equanimity.

This, though, was intolerable. He had finally gone too far. Even becoming mayor hadn't stopped him from his strange practice, this habit that everyone knew about and no one complained of. But Javert would not let it pass. It wasn't that he couldn't use the money. His pay as an inspector was a pittance, such that he had to take odd jobs on the side to make up for the lack. But he got by. He didn't need much, and he certainly didn't need charity. And so from the moment he'd come back to his rooms to find the door forced, seen the gleam of the gold coin on his table, Javert had been in a state of unrest. He'd had difficulty sleeping and woke earlier than usual, eager for the appointment he had planned.

However, he hadn't lost so much equilibrium that he was going to bypass the usual channels and go directly to Madeleine where he lived. Instead he would wait for the working day to begin and see him in his office. Javert passed the extra time with a spot of breakfast—another sign of his nonplused state, since he never usually ate before noon—and a page from his latest self-assigned project, a biography of Charlemagne. Because it was not fiction and concerned a king, it was slightly less disagreeable than some of the books he'd read.

Finally, it was time. With the evidence carried gingerly in a pocket, Javert went to Madeleine's office at the factory and asked to be admitted. It took longer than he thought it should have, but finally he was let in. He stood straight as ever and waited to be acknowledged, eyes attempting to bore a hole through the back of Madeleine's head by sheer intensity. As indignant as he was, this man was still the mayor. He must make the first move.

((OOC: Let me know if anything about this needs changed!))

[Deleted]

It would have been impossible for Valjean – now known as M'sieur Madeleine, who had become M'sieur le Maire – to be unaware of who the inspector was. The only question now was whether Javert knew who he was. The man had found him again after so many years of separation. He had broken his parole and he had not known then at what cost, how doggedly he would be followed. It had not begun out of some wickedness of heart, but a desire to make something new of himself, and that was just what he had done. He had saved a child's life, had worked honestly (as he now expected all of the workers over whom he had charge to do in turn), and had made a good deal of money, most of which he had no use for and subsequently gave away. Over the course of some years he had twice been offered the mayorship of M' sur M by the king and had twice refused it before it had been conferred upon him compulsorily.

Now, if Javert exposed him, all of that would be lost. He would not mind losing his position as mayor, but if he was thrown in jail, his workers would lose their jobs; the people he helped might go hungry. Though he didn't flatter himself to think he had that much influence (he didn't think of himself much at all, in fact), he could not deny that leaving this place would be a loss to him, if not to everyone else. Javert could ruin everything.

And still, he could not hate the man, who was only doing his duty. In spite of Valjean's fear of discovery, he would not exempt the inspector from his charity. Had Jesus Christ not said to love thy enemy? And he did not know if he ought to even consider Javert his enemy. They had interacted some when he had been in jail, but even if he considered the reason he was in jail to be unjust, that was not Javert's fault. And so far, the man had done nothing to expose him. It was possible that they could live amicably, both in M' sur M.

But the Lord's will be done. This was his fearful prayer as he attempted to master obedience to God, standing in his office. After being informed of Javert's request to see him, he continued to do the necessary paperwork and observations for the day, still with a steady hand and neutral expression, though sweat gathered at the nape of his neck beneath the wool-brushed coat he wore.

Finally he turned to admit the man, inclining his head respectfully. “Inspector.” Was he caught? Could a man coming in triumph over a found criminal stand so calmly? This was Javert. “How may I be of assistance?” He raised his gaze to meet the man's eyes briefly before averting it again, turning to straighten a parchment and drawing a breath.

[ÉMILE JAVERT]

Javert hadn't been in Montreuil for the beginning of this. He had arrived long after Father Madeleine had made the leap to Monsieur Madeleine, and shortly after his elevation to mayor. Even so, he had taken an instant dislike to the man. His presence was like an itch he didn't know how to scratch. And digging beneath the surface, as any person with suspicions should do, Javert found out some things that to him justified keeping a closer eye on this mayor, whose heroic bravery had caused everyone to conveniently forget to ask for his papers. It was far too late for that now, and everyone already thought he might be mad for the way he scowled at the mayor whenever they passed in the street, as if he was someone worthy of contempt, possibly even criminal.

But today, in this office, Javert's aim was not an arrest. Even if one had been needed, he didn't himself have nearly the authority to detain a mayor. Besides, arrest him for what? Nothing had been taken, even the door had suffered no damage, and most importantly, his only 'proof' was rumor. You couldn't hang a case against a mayor on something as nebulous as rumor. No, monsieur le maire had nothing to fear from Javert today. All he wanted—and he would have that at least—was an explanation.

He waited, remaining completely still, for what felt like an eternity to the impatient Javert—but he waited, and was eventually rewarded. Madeleine finally turned around and acknowledged him. Intently Javert scrutinized his face, looking for some sign that he already knew why the inspector was here, but his eyes met with nothing. Pure neutrality. None of the meek smiles he reserved for everyone else in the town. Well, that was good. Javert had no need of such smiles, and they would get Madeleine nowhere with him.

Dipping his head and offering a "Monsieur le maire" in cursory acknowledgment of his own, the inspector drew the offending coin from his pocket and threw it down on Madeleine's desk, where it spun uncertainly a few times before finally admitting defeat and succumbing to gravity.

Across the desk Javert fixed the other man with a steady stare, noting as he did that he seemed to be avoiding his eyes. Not an unusual occurrence with Javert, but it was another tally mark to add to those he already had against the mayor. "I would like you to explain the meaning of that," he said with the succinctness and smooth surety of one who knows he's caught the other out on something. He didn't elaborate further, since he was convinced Madeleine would know exactly what it meant.