contains next to normal spoilers

Next to Normal || enjolrasoffrance

Javert did not remember much about the little boy who had followed him around Montreuil-sur-Mer; only his curls, his eyes, and the way he had screamed when he was dragged away.

“Unfit parent.” “You cannot support this child.” “He’ll be taken to a nicer place, with people who can take care of him.” “It’s for the best.”

The inspector received updates on his status since then; he wrote letters, and the childish scrawl in which they were returned began to mature. Javert was always sure to send his weekly update on Tuesday, and the reply would come by Thursday. These exchanges became a major part of his life, until word trickled down from his superiors - from Vidocq.

“These notes of yours have to stop, Inspector. You will be transfered to Paris. You will focus your work there. We are grateful to you for apprehending Jean Valjean. Don’t make me turn you loose, or worse, send you to an asylum. They have lovely houses for people like you in England, but I don’t want to do that. I know that you can move past this.”

And so Javert was moved to Paris, and he stopped receiving letters in reply; for the first year, he sent them out, as he had, on every Tuesday; nothing came on Thursday. By year two, he stopped. Perhaps the child had found a happy home. Perhaps he was with people who could properly care for him, now. Perhaps he was studying in some nice school.

Perhaps. Perhaps.

“We are supplying you with this medication for a reason, M. l'Inspecteur! We expect you to use it!”

He was not troubled by thoughts of the boy for many years. Until the first rebellion in 1830 was stirred up. That’s when the trouble began. Distracted as he was by the political and social upheaval, Javert began slipping with his doses; a man always by the clock, he was now so busy with work that his schedule was askew; and, indeed, they would call him in at all hours of the day.

The full effects of the medication wore off by late 1831 as his final dose was cast into the Seine. He was the law. He did not require any doctor’s concoctions to carry out his duty.

Spring of 1832 came.