Chapter Text
Javert stared at the ceiling, mold dotting it like stars. He was still at Rue Plumet, Fauchelevent’s- or rather, Valjean’s house. Maybe a better word for it was imprisoned. The irony almost made him laugh, but with the damage done to his ribs, he’s glad he didn’t.
He pushed himself to sit up. Where was Valjean? Almost every time he woke up, Valjean was sitting on a little wooden stool. Javert swore he slept in some nights. He slowly moved out of the bed, his feet on the floor. He stumbled towards the window and, there he was, Valjean in the garden.
Valjean's knees are covered with dirt as he works on a small plant. Javert never understood gardening, working hard on small plants that will die anyways. It's too much effort to slowly raise and care for the plant. It's nothing like the police work he had grown used to.
Way too soon, Valjean stood up and looked back, and Javert hurriedly shoved the curtain back. His face felt like it was on fire, and he fell into the bed.
Darn shaky legs.