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There was no need , per se, for Valjean to go down to Javert’s office to obtain his weekly report. He could have assigned that task to anyone else; in fact, there were plenty who were much better suited to the task than he was. And yet, there was a certain charm that the Inspector had when he would give his impassioned end-of-the-week speech, the way he so often got lost in the throes of his own determination. Valjean should have been alarmed, discomforted, or even concerned at the efficacy that Javert exerted, the way he followed the law to a T, or the way he proudly exclaimed how he “locked up those dirty hippies”, with their weed and their LSD and their anti-war protests. But instead, all those words simply went over his head, and the mayor was transfixed by the lilting tones of Javert’s pattern of speech. He loved being able to spend time with the Inspector in a way that he couldn’t quite describe. And he did think that love was the correct word, despite how disastrous it would be if Javert ever recognised him from his past.
But just because Valjean was able to spend leisurely time with Javert, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t equally as busy as the Inspector. Being a mayor in Montreuil-sur-mer meant that his day was filled with important meetings and events, which in turn meant that he had a specific time booked to meet Javert every week. Being the punctual man that he was, ever a creature of habit, he arrived at precisely 5pm every Friday evening. His arrival was signified with three knocks upon the Inspector’s door, after which he would promptly be let in, almost as though Javert was already waiting to turn the knob.
Such meetings went by like clockwork, each one of the two accustomed to their rituals. However, on that particular Friday, one of Valjean’s afternoon meetings had been cancelled. He had been given the reason why, but it had gone completely over his head; his mind was already thinking of ways to fill the gap in his day. This, he believed, was the opportunity that he had been waiting for. He wanted to go down to Javert’s office early, hoping that the extra time would give him a way to talk to the man outside of business. He didn’t know why, exactly, he wanted to risk getting found out. It wasn’t like he was an adrenaline junkie. Valjean knew that no matter what he had accomplished, that his status as a wanted criminal would strip him of his title as mayor and send him right back to prison, no doubt alongside the very same people Javert told him about every week. But in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t really matter.
Maybe he liked the danger, maybe he liked the chance to be able to try and figure out what it was exactly that made Javert tick. He was a man who stood by his doctrines, but there must have been something more behind that drive that he couldn’t quite understand. Valjean didn’t have anything against the man for wanting to do his job, nor did he think that Javert had anything personal against him. He figured that was why he felt so confident getting close to Javert; maybe he could convince him that when it was all said and done, he wasn’t Prisoner 24601. He was a man named Jean Valjean, who craved human contact and affection. But how cruel it was that the only man left in the world he knew was the very one who wanted to see him behind bars once more.
Valjean felt a little more anxious than usual as he approached the door that was labelled very clearly with the name ‘Inspector Javert’. He was lost in his own thoughts, trying to figure out what he could say in order to try and steer the conversation away from work. Would Javert even want to do so? But there was a strange sound that stopped his racing mind, one that made him pause just before knocking. It was a voice, certainly Javert’s, but nothing like he had ever imagined.
“Quand tu dors près de moi,
Tu murmures parfois
Le nom mal oublié
De cet homme que tu aimais…”
With his ear nearly pressed against the door, and ever-thankful for the frosted glass that separated them, Valjean listened intently as the Inspector softly sung to himself. This was the last pleasure that he ever expected Javert to indulge in. It just seemed so unlike him, to sing a sad little love song in the solitude of his office. But as he continued, Valjean became more and more invested, those nerves of his being calmed with every passing moment.
“Les gestes étourdissants, étourdis de la nuit
Les mots émerveillés, merveilleux
De notre - ”
Javert’s song cut off sharply as his attention was turned elsewhere, and Valjean could practically feel his heart jump into his throat. The sound of footsteps followed shortly after the singing stopped, and it wasn’t long before they rapidly approached the door. The mayor’s eyes darted around the empty hallway, his fight-or-flight activated. But he didn’t have time to react, and the door swung open to reveal the Inspector, expression placid as ever, though he was clearly hiding something behind his stony visage.
“Monsieur Madeleine?”
Javert’s voice was one of confusion mixed with shock, which was understandable, given the situation. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting the mayor to arrive early.
“Good afternoon, Javert.” Valjean tried to get a grip on himself. There was no need for him to get anxious over this; it wasn’t as though he was breaking any laws by standing outside of Javert’s door. “One of - ahem - one of my meetings was cancelled today, so I wanted to see if you were available for something of a longer meeting today. When I came by, you sounded... occupied, so I wanted to wait outside your door until you were ready to see me.” He gave a polite nod of his head, hoping to clear the air of the tension that was practically tangible between them.
Javert, on the other hand, only seemed to become considerably more anxious. He refused to meet the mayor’s warm gaze, looking everywhere except his face. “You - ah - heard that? My apologies, it was unprofessional of me.”
“No, no, not at all! You have a wonderful voice, Inspector,” Valjean insisted, taking the initiative as he led Javert back into his office. He didn’t expect to catch the man off-guard like this, to see him in such a state after he realised that he had been discovered. It was charming, in a way that Valjean couldn’t quite describe. He offered the Inspector a smile, hoping to coax him back into the room for a conversation. “Have you been singing for very long?”
It was clear by Javert’s reaction that he wasn’t expecting the mayor to continue talking about his interests. Monsieur Madeleine had never seemed to care much about his personal interests, nor should he have. Their relationship had always been strictly business, but he couldn’t deny that there were several facets of the silver-haired man that fascinated him, and to talk on a personal level was something that interested Javert very much, even if it was on a subject that was rather embarrassing to him. He stepped back inside of his office and closed the door behind them both, but stood in silence for several moments as he pondered how to approach the question.
“I… ever since I can remember, yes. It started as songs that I heard outside of taverns and bars as a child, I’d pick them up and hum them to myself. But as I became more comfortable in my job, I realised that some hobbies are best kept quiet. I have appearances to maintain, after all.” Javert wondered what kind of Inspector he’d really be if he couldn’t force people into compliance with a glare alone.
Valjean took a seat across from Javert’s desk, crossing one leg over the other. A hand rested on his chin pensively as the other man spoke, very much interested in what he had to say, unlike their usual meetings. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be the type of person to enjoy love songs, but I guess that just speaks to how skilled you are at putting your job first. But at the same time, I don’t think that it’s a hobby you should hide. You have talent.” As compliment after compliment left Valjean’s lips, he realised with increasing worry that his ulterior motives might be spotted, as perceptive as Javert was. Should he continue with his unapologetic flirting, or keep the Inspector guessing? He figured he should make it a careful balancing act.
“Ah, thank you, Monsieur Madeleine, your compliments mean -”
“Do you know any Beatles songs?” Valjean interjected.
“Huh? Uh… Beatles songs? Yes, of course, I know a few.” Javert furrowed his brow, confusion evident, trying his best to handle the emotional whiplash. He wasn’t used to experiencing so many feelings in such a short period of time. It didn’t take long for his hardened demeanour to return after coming to his senses, and he seemed to close off a bit. “But I don’t agree with their lifestyle, so I don’t entertain the idea of singing their songs.”
Valjean tried his hardest to suppress a roll of his eyes. It was his own fault, after all, for getting a little too ahead of himself. “Alright then, so no Beatles. Can you sing anything else?”
“Monsieur le maire, with all due respect, this is a professional meeting, not a karaoke night.” Javert didn’t know how to react to receiving so many compliments in such a short period of time, paired with the uncharacteristic interest that the mayor showed in his hobbies.
“If it’s professionalism that concerns you, I’ll cover your wages for this meeting, and you can think of this as a casual chat between friends. I believe that we can better protect Montreuil-sur-mer against ne’er-do-wells if we get to know each other, wouldn’t you agree, Inspector?” It wasn’t exactly a convincing argument, and Valjean knew that, but he hoped it was enough to sway Javert just a little.
The mayor was persistent, and Javert didn’t really know what to make of it. He looked over the man sitting in the chair in front of him, as though his outward appearance was enough to judge his sincerity. Monsieur Madeleine had never led him astray, and he was knowledgeable in all manner of things. He was willing to take his words at face value, if only for the extra money that was promised. But at the same time, he had his own pride that he wasn’t too quick to step on for a few extra francs in his pocket. “I’ll speak with you about my hobby. But I don’t take requests.”
“Fair enough.” Valjean was just happy to get his way. It wasn’t completely selfish; he was helping Javert get out of his comfort zone. He wanted Javert to remember that he was human, that he could have interests outside of his job. He was more than his duty to the law, and it was evident in the way that he so passionately sang love songs. Javert had a rather mechanical view of humans as a whole, and art was what brought life to an otherwise-lifeless machine. “We all get a little stage fright from time to time, I couldn’t possibly ask you to sing for me. I just don’t think that you have anything to be nervous about.”
“Nervous? I’m not -” Javert had to stop himself in his tracks, realising quickly that he was getting defensive, and that it meant the mayor had a point. He was nervous, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. He had never let this hobby be known to anyone else, let alone even think about singing in front of someone. It was only by sheer chance that Monsieur Madeleine even knew about it, and the way that he kept pressing made Javert want to retract into himself.
He felt shame, but only because of his own idea of what the ideal version of himself should be. Infallible, without fault, not a single part of himself that didn’t fit his role. The mayor didn’t seem to care about that image; he didn’t hold the Inspector to the same standards to which he held himself. There was a certain comfort in the way that Monsieur Madeleine supported him, and it was something he had never experienced in any other part of his life. He began to wonder if the mayor actually cared about him. The thought alone made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, and as much as he often pushed those sorts of thoughts out of his mind, in this case, he didn’t want to.
Javert let out a soft sigh, the tension easing from his shoulders. His attention returned to the man seated a few feet away from him, ever-patient and alert like a dog expecting a treat. He didn’t know how he could refuse upon seeing a face like that. If he knew how to smile, the mayor likely would have received one at that moment.
“Maybe it was a bit of stage fright, but it’s nothing that can’t be overcome. What’s your favourite Beatles song?”