Chapter One: Of What is Right
"But why must we leave so late, Father?" little Cosette asked.
"Because we must," Valjean responded as softly as he could. "Now, my dear, you must stay silent."
"But why?" the girl begged.
Valjean looked down on her. Her eyes held complete trust, but questioning. She was so young, so innocent. "Hush," he whispered, clutching her hand tighter. "Hurry now."
They moved through the streets in silence, through the dark and down the alleyway. Valjean felt Cosette come closer and murmur something about being afraid of the dark. "But you're here, Father. You'll protect me."
"Valjean!"
Jean Valjean turned abruptly, the sound of his name ringing through the otherwise quiet streets causing him to start. Javert stood at the end of the alleyway, his face showing only slightly in the dim light, but his grey-blue eyes were narrowed and almost glowing with the unspoken excitement of finally tracking down his long time enemy. The elder man pulled Cosette behind him. "Inspector Javert."
"It's been quite a while, Valjean," the inspector responded, his voice holding a bit of superiority in it. He reached for his gun and found that he had none. It had been left in his bag in his room, but no matter. Valjean knew nothing of that. "You, sir, are under arrest, once more."
"Leave him alone!" Cosette screamed, her little voice shrill with fear. "Don't hurt my father!"
"Your father?" Javert scoffed. "Is she the whore's daughter, Valjean?"
The man in question's eyes narrowed. "Let us pass, Javert. We will cause no harm. Allow me to fulfill my promise to a dying woman. Allow me to raise this child as my own."
"Don't think that I am a fool," Javert growled. "I will not loose you again." He began to walk closer to the elder man and his cowering child when a voice hissed in the darkness.
"What have we here? Couple 'o men tha' 'ave a few franks about 'em?" The owner of the voice was tall and built well, probably having seen some time in hard labor. His face was scraggly and his clothes old. He had a look of one who had not eaten in several days and a gun in one hand. How he had come about it, who could guess, but there it was, cocked and aimed at the two men and little girl.
"Begone with you," Javert growled.
"Don' think so, good sir," the mongrel answered, waving the gun so that it could be seen easier. "I wan' me dinner tonight. I ain't had none in too good a time."
"You'll have none from me!" Javert answered. "I am an officer of the law and you will not-"
"I don' care if ya be the emperor of France!" the man grumbled. "I just want yer money so I might 'ave a piece 'o bread."
"Sir," Valjean said as he stepped forward. "All one needs to do is ask."
"Stay where you are, Valjean," Javert hissed, waving him back and stepping closer to their assailant.
"Don' come closer!" the thief shouted, fear showing in his eyes. "I warn ya!" He watched with wide, dark eyes as the inspector stepped forward and his finger flexed against the trigger.
Javert's eyes grew wide at the sound that emitted from the pistol. He'd never expected the man to be quite so brave. None of the others were. They might threaten and use force by fist, but rarely – if they could get a hold of one – would they use a gun against a known police officer. Now the inspector felt perfectly foolish for not taking the precautions needed in such situations. None of this mattered, though, as he stumbled back against the brick wall that lined one side of the alley.
There was a deadly silence in the area and the man dropped the gun. "I didn' mean to, sir!" the man mumbled, fear showing fully. He stumbled back and out of the alley, leaving a wide-eyed Jean Valjean, a frightened Cosette, and a quickly paling Javert alone in the darkness.
Valjean watched his foe leaning heavily on wall. He didn't know if the bullet had struck him or he was simply so shocked that he had leaned against the nearest solid object. As the inspector let forth a muffled cough and slid down the wall, leaving a dark stain behind him, the elder man assumed that the latter was far from true. It was before he even knew what he was doing that Valjean was at the younger man's side, a hand laid gently on the shaking inspector's shoulder.
"Don't touch me," Javert rasped, coughing slightly. His hand was clutched over the bloody wound in his side.
"You need a doctor," Valjean stated without emotion. "Come."
"I said don't touch me." His voice had been a bit stronger this time and it was his eyes that showed all the hatred that lay there. "I would sooner die than… be helped… by you."
"I'm sure you would," Valjean answered softly, lifting the smaller man up, ignoring the protests and the groan of pain. "But what example would I show my dear daughter if I were to allow you to bleed to death in the street."
"Simply the man you are."
"Perhaps once was."
"Men like you… never change," the inspector murmured, his vision dimming. "Just leave me… Wouldn't it… be easier?"
"Perhaps," Valjean answered softly. He looked pensive for a moment before pulling the majority of Javert's weight into his arms. "But it would not be right."
Javert stared up at him, his last thought to ask him what a criminal would know of right and wrong. The question never left his blood-stained lips as his dimming vision finally failed him and he passed out.
A/N: short chapters, I know, but I'm knew to this particular fandom. Help is appreciated:)