Confrontation
Title: Confrontation
Author: Amata le Fay
Story: Crossfire RP
Flavor(s): Teaberry 9 (now all my lies are proved untrue and I must face the men I slew)
Toppings/Extras: None
Rating: PG13 for implied swearing
Word Count: 724, 45 of which are Rudyard Kipling's
Notes: “I assumed you would lie or dodge the question or something. That's what I did.”
I could not dig: I dared not rob:
Therefore I lied to please the mob.
Now all my lies are proved untrue
And I must face the men I slew.
What tale shall serve me here among
Mine angry and defrauded young?
- Rudyard Kipling
The inspector stood aloof on the balcony that jutted out from the stainless steel of the detention center, looking down at the rushing water below him. Some of the prisoners had tried to jump into the waters, whether out of despair or hope of escape. He would never be one of them. He was too set in his ways, and much, much older than his thirty-one years of age would suggest. No. Thirty-two. He had almost forgotten to count that last birthday. That alone told him he was too old for any new dreams.
A soldier approached him from behind. “Is he ready to be talked to?” asked the inspector.
“If you can stand all the swearing, sir, then yes.”
The soldier saluted him and led the other man over to the hall of the one-way glass. Inside, a young man struggled against his own cuffed hands, screaming curses at the top of his lungs. He was dressed in a Royal Police Academy uniform, but his accent betrayed him as a slumdog, Osprian in origin but far from the Saint-Witz neighborhood he had claimed was his home. Javert Sebastien Dawes, nineteen years old. Police intern, up until his records were checked and his name linked to rebellion and treason. Right hand man of renowned psychopath revolutionary Monique Tamarind. Critically wounded eight of the Force's finest during a botched assassination attempt, four of whom had died in hospital. And here he was trying to gain inside access to the training grounds of his old enemies. What could possible be going on inside that man's head? What secrets did he keep in the recesses of his mind?
The inspector opened the door and walked in, slamming the same door behind him. No way in, no way out. “Dawes.”
Javert turned his head toward his interrogator. There were embers in his eyes, but also a weariness behind them. “What now?” said the man.
“Why did you come to the Academy? What were you trying to do?”
“To become a gucking inspector, what do you think?” Javert spat at the ground, his whole body tense in combat mode. “Why does it matter, anyway, if you're just gonna kick me out like you motherguckers said you would?”
“As inspectors, it is our job to uncover the truth, no matter what,” he said simply.
“Our job?” Javert snorted. “My sodding job is to rot away in prison until you find an excuse to electrocute me, isn't it now?” Another spit, this time on the inspector's badge.
“You shouldn't have lied.”
“It got me this far, didn't it?” His voice is flat and bitingly bitter. “Delayed the inevitable for six months.”
“The lie only makes you seem more suspicious to us,” the older man clarified. “If you had gotten the chance to tell your side of the story first, we might not be in this situation.”
A long pause. Javert looked pensive, then scoffed. “You people.”
“Pardon?”
“Baker family case. Colin, the killer, convicted after confessing in my interrogation. Kidnapping of Danny Latimer. Tracked down after SOCO examined the beach house for prints at my suggestion. Thief 'the Wingman' caught on my watch. Chaucer manuscripts recovered after I interrupted their destruction.” His face dripped with hate and disgust. “Six months I lied. Six moths I proved myself to be loyal, insightful, and needed on the force. I'm twice the inspector you are, D.I. Valjean. I may have made mistakes in my life, but judging the man for a past he's renounced only proves that you're just as bad as I used to think you were.”
“Men like me can never change,” said Valjean. “A man such as you...”
“Believe of me what you will. This is a duty that I've sworn to do.” The young man's voice rose to something raw and wronged. “You know nothing of my life. You know nothing of Javert.”
The two men's eyes met, and what neither could know was that, years from now, one would become just like the other. Though who became whom would forever be up for debate.