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Title: "Rescue," Chapter Eleven

Author: Darkover

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One.

Summary: Javert is saved from suicide by Valjean, but it becomes more complicated than that, especially as it is not always clear who is saving whom.

~ooo0ooo~

Chapter Eleven: "Bring Him Home"

Javert sat at the table of the bride's family—which consisted of himself and Valjean—and sipped champagne. It was the first time he had ever tasted it, but of course this was also the first wedding he had ever attended. Next to him sat the bride's father, not drinking and looking lugubrious. Javert leaned toward the older man and spoke quietly but urgently. "Jean, for the love of God and of your daughter, at least try to look as if you are enjoying yourself. One might think you were present at a funeral rather than at a wedding."

"I feel as if I am," Valjean said, in a tone so low that the Inspector barely heard him over the playing of the musicians. "Cosette's love for me is dying. Things will never be the same between us."

Javert emitted a sharp huff of exasperation. "This is foolishness, Jean! I never thought of you as being so inclined to self-pity. How many times must I tell you? Cosette does not love you any less just because she loves this boy as well."

Valjean continued to sit unmoving, staring at nothing. Javert added, "The boy's grandfather is a particularly arrogant specimen of the ancien regime, and even *he* is more enthusiastic about this marriage than you."

"That is because I assured him that Cosette is rich. I bestowed 600,000 francs on the happy couple."

"That should make anyone happy," Javert observed. "That is a great deal of money, even for a man of your fortune. No wonder the old man seems so pleased. From the tedious toast that he delivered, one would think he had introduced the couple and arranged for the marriage himself."

"I would give him and his grandson all of my money, if it meant Cosette would remain with me."

"She is getting married, not dying! It is time to pull yourself together. M. Gillenormand is not the only one required to make a toast. As the father of the bride it is your responsibility to do so as well. I believe that is what everyone is waiting for."

For the first time, Valjean seemed to rouse himself. He blinked, looked at the Inspector, and then around at the other tables. There was a pause in the music and the guests, their expressions expectant, were all turned toward the table of the bride's family, where the two men sat. Valjean looked back at the Inspector once more. Javert nodded and pushed Valjean's untouched glass of champagne into the latter's hand, adding in a low tone; "Remember, we have been over this. Just stand up and say the words."

Reluctantly, the older man stood up, taking the glass rather awkwardly in his left hand. His right hand was in a sling. Only he and Javert knew there was nothing at all wrong with his right hand, but he was pretending it had been injured in a recent accident so that no one would expect him to sign the marriage documents. Astonishingly, it had been the Inspector who had suggested this subterfuge; "You need not tell a lie. Just put your hand in a sling and tell them that you cannot sign the papers—which is true, after all. The reason why you cannot sign the papers is because to do so using the name of 'Fauchelevent' would be illegal, but that is not something any of them need to know. They will simply assume you are suffering from some injury, but you are not responsible for their assumptions." Valjean had taken the Inspector's advice, while privately marveling at how devious his new friend could be without actually speaking falsehood.

He raised the glass. "To my daughter and her new husband. May they know only peace, love, and happiness together, as long as they both shall live."

The toast was so brief and seemingly heartfelt that no one noticed that the gaiety of the father of the bride was entirely forced. Cosette's beaming at him from the table where she and Marius sat actually helped loosen the tightness in his chest and alleviate Valjean's sadness a little. After the long-winded, if exhilarated, toast made by M. Gillenormand, the guests appreciated the brevity. They all applauded enthusiastically to Valjean's toast as he sipped champagne and then sank back into his chair.

The bride and groom rose for the first dance, and then other guests were not long in following, including M. Gillenormand, who behaved as if he had invented dancing. Although some of the ladies eyed both Valjean and the Inspector appreciatively, neither man joined in the dancing; it was not a social skill possessed by either of them. As the gaiety increased, so did the level of sound, until both men gave up on conversation.

Javert, to his surprise, enjoyed himself, although he could tell that Valjean was less than happy. Even though she is now married, Cosette will not cease to love him. He is the only father she has ever known, and she has a good heart. Why can he not see that? Does he think so little of himself that he does not believe that anyone can love him? I know what it is like to make oneself needed, when one believes one cannot be loved, but surely he knows his daughter's nature better than that?

The reception was delightful for everyone except Valjean, but all good things must end. As the bride and the groom were preparing to leave, Cosette, radiant in her beauty and happiness, approached the table where the two men were seated. Both stood at her approach. She went immediately to Valjean, sliding her slender arms around his larger bulk and hugging him tightly, kissing him tenderly on both cheeks as she did so. "Papa, I am so happy! Thank you for everything!"

Valjean gave her a smile that was more poignant than happy or pleased, and murmured something that Javert could not hear, although judging by the older man's expression, he was telling her farewell. When Cosette had finished saying goodbye to her father, she turned to Javert and, to the Inspector's astonishment, embraced and kissed him as well.

"Inspector, I am so pleased that you will be moving in with Papa," she whispered to him. "It means that Papa will have a friend at last, and he will not feel so alone with me gone. That is the best wedding gift I could possibly have received. Thank you so much!"

Javert was startled—if he was moving in with Valjean, it was news to him. But he did not wish to contradict a bride at her wedding, or to spoil Cosette's happiness in any way. "You are welcome, Mademoiselle Cosette," he managed. "Or perhaps I should say, Madame la Baroness?"

Cosette emitted a joyous peal of laughter before kissing him again. Then she turned to Marius, who was beaming at her fondly, and proceeded on with their farewells to the other guests.

For Valjean, the gaiety, bright color, and sounds of the wedding reception were all just so much background. His attention was entirely focused on Cosette, and as he watched her and Marius leaving in a carriage together, Valjean found himself thinking it was rather like a fairy tale. He still felt sadness at his daughter's departure, still felt unhappy at the realization that he would no longer see her on a daily basis as he previously had, nor would her sweet presence fill his home…but he was no longer in despair, as he had been. Surprisingly, the thought of Javert's companionship was a comfort to him, and made even the departure of Cosette more bearable.

He turned around to say so, and then found himself looking around in bemusement. Javert was no longer present, and there was no sign where he had gone.

TBC…