valjean + [005]
Who: Jean Valjean AKA M. Fauchelevent
Where: Near and around Lake Meridian
Style: First please
Status: Open ( Read more... )
Where: Near and around Lake Meridian
Style: First please
Status: Open ( Read more... )
Javert's shift has long since ended several hours before, at just after nightfall. But rather than return home for a night of much-needed rest in his severe deprivation, he spends his first few hours off-duty to walk the streets of Somni, seeking to clear his head of its confused thoughts. He makes his way slowly from the dead center of the government district, all the way to the northernmost segment of the residential district, where the city meets the lake and the ominous sink hole. His distracted posture, gaze cemented to the cracks in the walk, police cane held idly at his back, bears the mark of a quiet anxiety he has only borne once before in his life.
There is, perhaps, only one other man in existence that would recognize such a state of seemingly frightening contemplation in the cold and distant Inspector. It is a topsy-turvy day when that very man, so long the hunted, has reversed his role and now pursues the hound.
Without paying attention to who may be awake at this late hour (after all, how many truly are?), and without seeing any other people loitering where they shouldn't be, Javert enters the lake grounds. He approaches the shore, stopping only when the clear water laps at the toes of his boots. There, he is no more but a tall, dark silhouette against the large moon, his eyes shifting slowly between the waters and its banks. Every now and then a cliff face on the eastern bank would attract his idle, distracted attention, and he would cast a glance at the top, then return to his contemplation.
Javert remains silent and indifferent to the rest of the world behind him.]
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Of course, it shouldn't need to be said that Valjean's creeping around had nothing to do with a flimsy attempt to arrest the man. That was purely ridiculous to even consider. As if the man was even capable of earthly crime that could see him carted away for. No, the reformed man was merely disquieted for his friend's fragile mental health. There was only one time in the past that he had seen seen Javert act in such a manner before and it had been mere moments before his suicide.
And if the Inspector so foolishly felt the need to take his life yet again, Valjean could not simply step aside and allow him to do so. It was plainly clear that God had called him out to this very spot tonight for a reason--to save Javert's life.
It is just then as he slips closer that the man observes Javert approaching the lake steadily, his gaze drifting back and forth from the unforgiving dark waters before him and the cruel high cliffs surrounding the grounds. A metaphorical warning light begins to blink within the Valjean's head as he stiffens in place.
His usual tranquil expression is replaced with a look of revulsion and horror. He can no longer sit by and watch! In quick movements that one would not expect from a man of his age, Jean Valjean rushes forward to tackle the man to the ground. It may seem extreme, but this is a matter of life or death!]
Javert! Stop at once!
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Though Javert had thought he heard, on occasion, the shuffle of a dragging step somewhere in the distance, in his massive preoccupation he didn't care to pay it much mind. This lapse in judgment costs him in the form of massive bruising on his body, a possible lump on the head, and a very strong ox of a man tackling him clear into the shallows. Valjean is lucky Javert manages to hit the sandy bottoms face up, otherwise the godly ex-convict might have ended up accidentally drowning the man himself.
Certainly not as planned. Especially when the Inspector starts spluttering and coughing on a minor inhalation of lake water. He manages to bite out the following command when he catches his breath:]
OFF, you great big ox!
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After a quick look to make sure that Javert was indeed unharmed (mostly), the white-haired gentleman gives him a rather severe look, his tone low. As condescending as it may seen, Valjean's words and actions, as always, are full of sincerity.]
Keep a firmer grip on your sanity.
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[Javert scoffs. He stands and quickly draws away from Valjean, giving the man a berth of a few feet. He gracelessly spits a mouth full of lake water to the side and settles a rather incredulous, hollow stare on the oh-so-familiar ex-convict before him. The Inspector looks little better than a drowned feline, with water dripping from his hair and whiskers, and his coat soaked through in the back. He casts a sidelong glance down at the water. He murmurs,]
--Ah, yes. I see what you thought.
[Then he looks back to Valjean. The water. Valjean. His brow draws very, very low with an unhappy grimace. But despite his unhappiness with this miserable situation, he speaks to his old quarry with that same sense of abrupt, curt respect he granted him during that final night of June 6th, 1832.]
Now how did you suppose I'd have drowned myself in the shallows?
[He makes a pointless attempt at brushing off the water from his back like a dandy, and he steps nimbly out of the water and onto the dry lake banks.]
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[The simple man seems motionless for the moment, reflecting quietly to himself on both the current situation and, more importantly, the man standing before him. As startling as the change in Javert's demeanor had been from a distance, it was more shocking now to see the difference up close. The Inspector, despite having been nearly drowned moments ago, appears to be considerably less tense around the former thief. The alternation between now and just a handful of months ago is overwhelming.
There is something else weighing heavily on Javert's keen mind. Something large enough to distract him so absolutely.
When Valjean finally speaks again, it is a much more rapid tone.]
I advise you to keep your distance from large bodies of water in the future. Especially so late into the night.
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[Valjean is right, indeed. It has been many months since the two men have crossed paths in the massive city that is Somni. Javert has heard of the man here and there, of course, mostly through Alice's frequent broadcast, but he made it a point to avoid the man and his piecemeal family and allow them to reside separately.
The Inspector replaces the hat atop his head and casts Valjean a lengthy stare, a characteristic high-chinned grimace on his face.]
Had I wanted death, I would have chosen that spot. [He gestures vaguely to the cliff face to the east, though his penetrating stare does not once flicker away from Valjean any longer. He then thrusts his hands in his pockets, fumbling around for something; had they gotten wet in his tumble? With the same distraction he has displayed since Valjean began to follow him, Javert adds,] And there my neck would snap in the fall.
[The Inspector's brow contracts, and any movement through his pockets has ceased. Perhaps he found what he was looking for. The grimace on his lip twists deeper, and from that right pocket he draws out a thoroughly crushed and drenched packet of cigarettes and casts it a reproachful glare.]
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His voice lowers to a level where it can scarcely be heard] How can you even say such a thing?!
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Silence stretches between them. The Inspector slowly arches a brow.]
I don't intend to do it. You will not find my corpse out there unless an assassin throws me out.
[Again he fixes his unsettling stare on Valjean.]
So I must advise you not to waste your prayers on me. [A pause, frown deepening still further.] I... beg of you, rather.
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I would hope not. [What part of that is he referring to? Take a guess.]
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I thought I heard your dragging foot out on the walk. [And then he asks with a repulsed curl of his lip, as if he isn't certain whether he wants to hear the answer,] For how long did you spin me?
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Simply, as if the time spent spying on the man was nothing at all.] Nearly three quarters of an hour.
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[Javert presses his lips together, clearly displeased at the man having followed him for so long. He waves Valjean off as if he were swatting a fly.]
I cannot think with the risk of wild old men out to trounce me to the ground. Is it too much to request that you give your conscience a rest?
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The simple man remains motionless in place, even as Javert attempts to shoo him away, thick arms still at his side as he continues to stare the Inspector down. This behavior is too strange for him to so calmly ignore and walk away from. It is far too eerily similar to that dark final night back in Paris, the last time that Valjean had spoken with him before he had taken the plunge. What had been going through his mind then? The same thoughts that were distracting him tonight?
Still, over a year later, Valjean is completely unaware of his part in the man's decision to jump into the Seine.]
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Of course.
[He relapses into a silence, his chin buried deeply in his collar. For some time he is still, unsure where to go next, but feeling far too restless to remain where he is.]
--Fine. Follow me. Do what you will.
[Yet again, Javert begins to walk. He seems just as aimless as he was during his trek out to the lake: slow, distracted, with his head lowered thoughtfully and his shoulders down.]
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The two men leave on the path headed southward, away from Lake Meridian and further into the quiet Residential District of Somni. Though usually loud and bustling throughout the day, it seems that the citizens of Somni are sleeping peacefully in their beds tonight, Valjean and Javert being the only two persons out on the streets at this hour.
The walk is, oddly enough, completely silent. Though side-by-side for the entire journey, neither man makes a single sound as they pass by the Somarium Golf Course or as they make their way finally into the Shopping District located to the west.]
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