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When Valjean wakes, he finds the bed empty next to him. His sleepily questing hand goes out over the sheets, finding them to be cold. Cold as a bone, cold as stone. Javert’s been gone for a while. Valjean rolls to his back. His friend does this sometimes, going out in the middle of the night when his dreams are bothering him. He’s probably sitting out back, or spending time with his animals. Something simple, something to ground him. Something to distract him from the horrors in his mind. Valjean yawns, rolling out of bed. His friend is probably alright, but he’d feel bad not going to find Javert at a time like this. Valjean doesn’t want his friend to think he doesn’t care, because he does, and letting Javert wonder otherwise doesn’t do good for either of them.
As Valjean makes his way out into the front room, he can see a small circle of light bobbing in the little stable on the far side of the yard. So Javert is in there. He pulls on his boots, quietly opening the back door. It’s a warm night. No wonder Javert came out here. Valjean looks up, straight into the clear dark sky dotted with stars. Sometimes at times like this he wonders where Cosette is, and if she’s looking at the same stars. Maybe she is. Valjean’s feet squish in the dewy grass as he goes to the stable, trying not to be too quiet. He doesn’t want to catch Javert by surprise. His friend is right where Valjean expected him to be. Squatting on a pile of straw, the lantern burning nearby, stroking the ears of the pitch-coloured miniature donkey that’s taken up residence in the shed. “Javert,” Valjean says, making him startle, “it’s alright, don’t be scared. I just woke up and you were gone.”
Javert’s hand stills, and the donkey noses at his arm, tacitly begging for more scratches. “I’m sorry. I was going to come back soon, I…”
“Don’t apologise. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” Valjean sits down on the straw, trying to ignore the fact that his sleeping clothes will stink of hay. “What was it this time?”
Javert shifts back to join him on the hay. “Just Paris again. The prison. That’s all.” The prison where he grew up, or the prison he sentenced so many unfortunates to? Valjean doesn’t know, and doesn’t really want to ask. “I just wanted to come out here. So I didn’t have to think about it anymore.”
“Didn’t want to wake me up?” Valjean asks gently, putting an arm around him.
“No. It’s not your problem to deal with at this hour.” Javert leans in, but it’s not even that cold. They can stay out here in the shelter of the stable, the little donkey snuffling at his hand. He still hasn’t named it. Maybe he won’t. “You didn’t have to come out here too.”
“But I want to. I feel bad about you being out here all by yourself, hm?” Valjean leans over to give Javert a kiss on the top of his head. He smells nice, even though they’re in the stable right now. He smells freshly washed, and he is, he bathed last night. “I love you. Wake me next time.”
“Alright,” Javert mumbles, rolling a bit to snuggle up against Valjean’s side. The stable has a gap between the ceiling and the wall—it’s not very large, but it’s enough to see the stars with. Valjean used to know about the stars and what images they made up, but he’s forgotten now. It wasn’t important for him to remember. “Do you know any constellations?” Javert asks, almost as if he’s been reading Valjean’s mind.
“No. I used to, but it’s all gone now.” Valjean yawns. “Does it matter? You can only really see them from one place. You move north or south or east and it gets ruined.”
“Mm. I liked the idea. I liked looking at the stars when I was a boy.” Javert lets out a sigh. “Couldn’t really see them properly. With the cell bars in the way. But I’d make up my own constellations. Night to night.”
“Did it help?”
“Mm. I suppose it did.” Javert properly snuggles into Valjean’s chest, and within a few seconds he’s fully asleep again. Valjean gently rubs his friend’s back, listening to him snort and snuffle quietly. Actually, that might be the miniature donkey. He was sceptical when Javert brought that thing home from the market, six months ago. Why do you want an animal like that? Valjean said from where he was doing the laundry. Javert had just arrived with the donkey on a lead behind him, chewing on a strip of grass next to the house. We can’t even eat it.
I don’t want to eat it, Javert said defensively, though he’d gone white. It’s cute. It’s affectionate. I couldn’t just leave it there. The donkey nosed at his hand, and Valjean already saw that Javert was wrapped firmly around its hoof. It didn’t cost much, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s here to stay. Javert stalked off to the back of the yard with the donkey obediently trotting along beside him, and now they have a pet. The donkey comes closer, sniffing curiously at Javert’s shirt. “Silly little thing,” Valjean says fondly, reaching out to scratch the donkey behind the ears. Eventually it loses interest, drifting to the other side of the stable to sleep. Valjean knows he should get his friend back inside, but he doesn’t really want to. It’s warm enough to be out here, sheltered by the stable and comfortable in the hay. Javert’s sleeping so peacefully, anyway, and he gets precious little good sleep as it is.
Valjean looks back up at the stars again. He hasn’t had the ability to be so fanciful as to see constellations in a very long time. He did it for Cosette sometimes, but if he was on his own it never crossed his mind. They are just stars. Nothing more. Valjean watches them glitter. Little white fires in a sea of black. Javert mumbles, his hand sleepily coming up to clutch at Valjean’s shirt. He’s really quite loving, when allowed to be. Desperate to give affection and receive it in return. Valjean often wonders how many people tried to burn that affection out of him. He’s sure they all tried very hard. Javert snuffles again, and Valjean finds a tarp to pull over him. It’s not much, but it might get colder later. The stars will roll around tomorrow night. Valjean can go to sleep. They will be there when he wakes up tomorrow.