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making Victor Hugo turn in his grave since 1885

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The Les Mis Anon Kink Meme, Round 6
exit pursued by javert
10littlebullets wrote in makinghugospin
Since LJ seems to have finally capitulated to the Russian government and is now subject to Russian anti-obscenity laws, I'm not going to take a chance on sudden deletions. The Les Mis kinkmeme now lives at https://lesmiskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/. (Round 6 here.) Everything has been backed up there. The LJ kinkmeme will stay up, but is now closed to new comments.

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Valjean/Javert - Post-Seine ghost fic, but with ghost!Valjean!

As you might know, the majority of ghost fics are about ghost!Javert. I love all of them, but I'd like to see a different angle of it here.

Valjean rescues Javert from the Seine, nurses him back to health and they slowly entwine their lives together until they are basically a couple in all but name...and then Valjean dies. Perhaps when Cosette marries like in the canon, or from an unrelated cause: A disease, old age, accident, heart attack, what have you.

But it turns out that he isn't quite ready to move forward, and instead chooses to come back as a ghost to haunt Javert, to keep him company and show that he's not alone now. Whether Javert can see him in turn is entirely up to A!A.

I will love you and give you cookies if Javert thinks himself mad and refuses to acknowledge that ghosts do exist, in the beginning.
(Frozen) (Thread)

Re: Valjean/Javert - Post-Seine ghost fic, but with ghost!Valjean!

I love ghostfics. I did one with ghost!Javert a while ago, but this is crawling under my skin already.

RL is busy as Hell for the coming three weeks, but knowing me, I can't resist filling this. Just give me some time, please.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Valjean/Javert - Post-Seine ghost fic, but with ghost!Valjean!

OP here, and I'm giddy that you took interest on this! Don't worry, I have lots of patience, take as much time as you need :)

(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Valjean/Javert - Post-Seine ghost fic, but with ghost!Valjean!

You know what, scratch RL. I've got too many ideas churning.

Before I write something that is no what OP wants:

Please let me know if there's anything that must be included (I'm already going for a bowl of cookies) or the opposite 'don't you dare write that'.

Also, do you have any preferences of what Valjean is trying to do (keep Javert company or get him to move on or something else entirely)?
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Valjean/Javert - Post-Seine ghost fic, but with ghost!Valjean!

(OP here again, LJ was a meanie and didn't show your message until I posted the above one)

I'm cool with pretty much everything, anon. Make it happy and fluffy, make it sad and angsty, I don't mind at all. It's nice to hear that you'll be going for the cookies, and that's pretty much the only thing that would definitely be a huge plus. My preferred canons are the book itself, 10th Anniversary and 2012 movie, so feel free to pick the one that suits you the best, but again, I'm not too picky. If you prefer some other Valjean/Javert combo, feel welcomed to write them in instead.

As for Valjean's purpose, I was thinking that generally, Valjean would encourage Javert to move on with his life, or at least convince him to keep living instead of returning to the bridge.

Are these okay, anon? :)
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Valjean/Javert - Post-Seine ghost fic, but with ghost!Valjean!

A!a can definitely work with that. Fits right in with what is developing in the back of my head. You'll most likely get both of them as TAC with a dash of brick.

Are you particularly adverse to a string of (more or less) 100-words scenes? It's something I've been wanting to try and since I don't have the time to write another novel length story, this'll ensure updates. Plus it would fit the plot that's developing.

(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Valjean/Javert - Post-Seine ghost fic, but with ghost!Valjean!

OP here! Go right ahead and write 100-word scenes if you want to, a!a. I'm totally okay with that :)
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Fill: The Ghost of You (or: ghost!Valjean!) pt 1/?

By way of intro. We'll get to the haunting in the next batch.


“If I’d die, would you be alright?” Valjean asked as he put his head on Javert’s chest. He’d been feeling under the weather for a few days and was surprisingly clingy.
“I know you feel weary, but you aren’t dying,” Javert chided. He put his arm around the older man and kissed his white hair. “You saved my life in so many ways. Of course I wouldn’t be alright without you.”
Valjean nuzzled his chest and fell asleep. Some time during the night, he turned away.
In the morning, Javert woke to a bed that was cold, but not empty.

He was numb. Absent. His policeman’s instincts had steered him through the practicalities of calling a doctor, then a priest, and finally an undertaker. He hadn’t shed a tear through it all. He wasn’t supposed to. To the world, they had shared nothing more than a front door.
So no one asked him which hymns and prayers should be sung during the burial service. No one asked him which in cemetery Monsieur Fauchelevent would be buried. No one uttered any kind of condolence for his loss.
Still Javert did not cry. He felt no need to. He felt nothing whatsoever.

Cosette cried a river when he told her of her father’s passing. He did not comfort her. He could not.
“Papa was very fond of you, monsieur,” she said, drying her red-rimmed eyes. “He once mentioned that he supported you from his income. Is that true?”
“It is true I have had no income since I was… forced to retire my position with the police,” he replied stiffly.
“Then will you please allow me to continue that arrangement? I believe Papa would want me to.”
His pride rebuked, but sensibility made him accept. Why, though? Life was empty without Valjean.

The service was sober but elegant, the church quiet but for a handful of people. Javert kept to the back. He could not find any solace in the words of the sermon or the glow of the candles. Throughout his professional life he had seen death often enough, yet now he could not stand the thought of being close to the simple casket propped up before the altar. He felt sick to his stomach to think of the pale corpse inside of it. Valjean’s corpse.
In his mind, he heard the thundering currents of the Seine beckoning him once more.

Javert wandered the city for hours, but eventually his feet brought him back to the Pont-au-Change. The sun had set hours ago and the waters below were dark. As dark as they had been when Valjean had pulled him out…
He felt the sting of tears that he wouldn’t admit to.
Drowning was not easy or painless, but it was clean. He pushed himself to climb up the parapet, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him back. Angry, he turned to see who had dared to touch him.
But when he did, the bridge was empty.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Fill: The Ghost of You (or: ghost!Valjean!) pt 1/?

(OP) This is a great beginning and I'm eagerly awaiting for more! I love how you manage to convey so much in such a little amount of words. Poor Javert, I can't imagine the emotional pain that he must be in for being completely ignored through the whole ordeal even though Valjean was his whole world.

It's such a good thing that Valjean will be there to make it better :)

(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Fill: The Ghost of You (or: ghost!Valjean!) pt 1/?

Ouch. Good, but ouch. I need to seek out some tissues whilst I wait for more.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Fill: The Ghost of You (or: ghost!Valjean!) pt 2/?

Happy it is to your taste, OP. I'll try very hard not to disappoint.

He gripped the parapet with a vicious hold, determined that three times had to be the charm. Twice already he had been pulled back as soon as he tried to climb up. Both times he hadn’t caught who it was. Or what. He didn’t care. All he wanted was Valjean, and Valjean was on the other side.
This time he made it onto the parapet. A cold, wet smell rose from the depths below. He leaned forward and—
Something hard hit him square in the jaw and knocked him backwards. He tumbled off the ledge, landing arse-first on the pavement.

Giving up his attempt at suicide was less of a conscious decision than a realisation that it would only fail again. Apparently his subconscious was not as hollow and destitute as the rest of him, because it was obviously inventing phantom sensations to withhold him from ending his life.
That or it was a ghost. But ghosts didn’t exist.
The sun dawned over Paris and the cup of coffee in his hand. He could not wander forever, but where to go? Home? Not ‘home’; the apartment. He did not dare to call it ‘home’ without Valjean waiting for him there.

Tired beyond fatigue, he leaned heavily against the door as he pushed it open. Cosette had told him he could live here as long as he wanted to. In all honesty, he didn’t. The apartment was as cold and empty as his heart. The void that Valjean had left behind.
His footsteps echoed in the hallway. He pretended not to hear the total absence of sound and movement – of life – in the house. Even the clock in the parlour was silent. Valjean had always kept it wound. Now he couldn’t. Perhaps it was poetic justice that the thing had stopped.

Javert ran his hands over his face. So now what? The day stretched out ahead of him like a desert he had to survive. And beyond it another one, and another… He was fifty-five and while his existence had been harsh, it had not been as arduous as Valjean’s. A policeman’s life was often short, but being retired and fairly fit, he might have as much as twenty years ahead of him before dying of old age.
His heart sank. He had lived most of his life in solitude. Only now did he begin to understand what true loneliness was.

For hours, the horizon beyond the walls was his sole point of attention. Staring at it vaguely reminded him of the senseless days after Valjean had rescued him from himself. Had he felt so forlorn then?
Suddenly a loud, metallic noise disrupted the silence, ripping him from his lethargy. It sounded like the rattle of keys. Annoyed and alarmed, Javert went to investigate. The noise seemed to come from the kitchen, which should be as empty as the rest of the house was.
But if that was so, how did that steaming mug of tea get on the kitchen table?

It seems Valjean is going to be a poltergeist, then :D
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread) (Expand)

Fill: The Ghost of You (or: ghost!Valjean!) pt 3/?

The tea smelled good. It was prepared exactly the way he liked it. Still the remnants of his professional paranoia prevailed and he poured the contents of the mug in the potted plant by the window.
But the mystery tea wasn’t all that was dodgy. He sniffed. Opening the cupboard, he winced at the stench of mouldy bread and ditto cheese. All the food had gone off. Of course it had. He hadn’t had the slightest appetite since...
A fresh-looking apple fell out of the fruit basket. Instinct overruling paranoia, he picked it up and sunk his teeth into it.

While his heart was barren, his body still needed to eat. He took no pleasure in shopping for groceries. He kept forgetting he was buying to feed one mouth, not two. The baker noticed. So did the butcher. They asked. He didn’t answer.
Once he had stashed the food in the cleared-out pantry, it dawned on him that he hadn’t cooked a meal in twenty years. He’d always paid his portresses to make him meals and later, there had been Valjean.
Jean had been a great cook. Wonderful casseroles he’d make!
...but not anymore.
He hugged himself. “I miss you…”

The evening dragged on. He spent most of it pacing around the parlour. How had he spent his time before? Either with work of with his partner, but now he’d lost both.
Suddenly Javert stopped short. He hadn’t lit the candles in the silver candlesticks, had he? He didn’t remember doing so, yet two steady little flames shone down from the mantelpiece.
“Either I have lost my senses, or I’m dreaming,” he muttered to himself, touching the wicks. He hissed when he burnt his fingers. Not dreaming then. Annoyed, he licked his fingers and extinguished the flames.
They refused to.

Javert felt increasingly uneasy as the clock progressed. The candles in Valjean’s candlesticks didn’t go out and didn’t burn up. It was impossible, but he couldn’t refute it.
“If this is someone’s idea of a joke,” he growled under his breath, “I am not amused!”
A ruckus in the kitchen alarmed him. When he stormed in, all drawers and cupboards hung open and a cookbook he didn’t even knew they’d had lay on the kitchen table, pages rustling.
“Who is there?!” he bellowed at full voice.
The pages turned in a non-existence breeze, stopping at a recipe for chicken casserole.

Aggravated, Javert strode from room to room, searching for whoever had the audacity to make such poor fun of him. The tea, the candles and now this, whatever it was!
By all appearances his kitchen utensils had just attempted to prepare a meal without human intervention, but he was absolutely convinced that could not be the case. There was someone in the house. There had to be! Objects didn’t move by themselves and—
His eyes widened as a blanket and a pillow silently floated down the stairs. He gaped. Perhaps he was alone after all. Alone and going stark-raving mad…

Hi, OP! Hope this is still close enough to be a fill. If there are any special requests you have (scenes, events, things like that), now's the time to tell me :)
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread) (Expand)

Fill: The Ghost of You (or: ghost!Valjean!) pt 4/?

Did I have time to write this? No, but that exam's all but down the drain and this was more fun. It's better to be relaxed before an exam, right? Ugh. Never mind me, I always rant when I'm nervous, and right now I'm about as nervous as I can get :S


The blanket and pillow floated past him and into the parlour, where the pillow descended on one end, and the blanket neatly folded on the other. Javert gaped. It was true he had taken to sleeping on the sofa, because could not stomach the thought of sleeping in the bed that Valjean had died in. Still that did not in any way explain what he had just seen.
No, he must have imagined this. Hunger and grief were both known to cause hallucinations, after all. He rubbed his eyes. But when he looked, the blanket and pillow were still there.

His whole body was trembling now. “What is this?” He paced over to the sofa and grabbed the pillow. It was real. “This is impossible!” he growled at the universe. “What is going on?!”
Behind him, something went ‘pop’. He turned just in time to see one of the wine bottles, its cork undone, lift from the cabinet and pour its contents into one of the glasses beside it. Then the bottle settled back and the glass floated up and towards him.
Stricken, Javert staggered back. Immediately the glass veered away from him and landed on the parlour table instead.

Pressed against the wall, Javert slowly sank to the floor. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening,” he repeated under his breath. When he heard more sounds coming from the kitchen, he pulled up his knees and pressed his hands to his ears. “God, let me wake up from this nightmare!”
Then a sudden touch to his head started him into looking up.
On the table, beside the wine glass, was now a plate with a piece of bread he had bought earlier, some grapes and a few slices of the smoked ham that hung in the back of the kitchen.

Javert didn’t move. The fire in the hearth gradually died, leaving the still burning candles the only source of light in the room. He stared at the plate. It hadn’t moved, either.
Eventually he found a way to cope with these extraordinary events: “Screw this for a lark,” he growled as rose and walked over to sit down on the sofa.
He regarded the food with soporific interest. His stomach rumbled while his natural paranoia screamed bloody murder. But so what if the food really was poisoned? The worst it could do was kill him, which he wouldn’t even mind.

He finished the meal in record time. Nothing indicated that the food was anything but fresh. Maybe the poison took more than ten minutes to work, in which case he simply would wake up dead in the morning. Like Jean…
He lay back across the sofa, head resting on the pillow. He realised he was cold again, as he’d been all his life. Except in those years with Valjean, when his lover had kept him warmer than any of his greatcoats ever could. Shivering, he curled up beneath the heavy blanket, but the wool was nothing compared to Jean’s embrace.
(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread) (Expand)

Fill: The Ghost of You (or: ghost!Valjean!) pt 5/?

Sorry for the wait. I'm still alive, but RL was demanding this weekend.


He woke up to a warmth on his cheek. Had to be the morning sun shining on his face. Which meant he had slept? Yes, all night. Not a series of disorientating catnaps, which was all the rest he’d been able to find since waking up to… He didn’t remember dreaming last night, but that was a nightmarish vision he would never shake off. His body was heavy with a craving for more sleep, but he forced himself to sit up. He yawned and glanced out the window. Only then did he see that the sky outside was completely overcast.

Javert took a deep breath. Nothing made sense anymore. The dirty plate and glass from last night had cleared themselves off the table while he slept. In fact, when he looked, he saw that the glass, perfectly clean, stood in the cabinet where it belonged. As if it’d never left. He didn’t have the strength to be surprised.
In the end, he hid his face in his hands. The empty house, the cold, the loneliness, the strange hallucinations, the memory of holding Jean’s cold body in his arms… Tears ran freely down his cheeks. What kind of life was this?

A sudden warmth flushed him. It came on so quickly and so fiercely that he wondered if he’d been cold before because he’d been running a temperature. Could it be the food? No, he didn’t feel ill, except for the pangs in his chest whenever he thought of Valjean. And this heat, while intense, was not unpleasant. If he closed his eyes, it almost felt the way it had whenever Jean had cradled him.
But that could not be. Jean was dead. Gone. Javert snapped his eyes open, angry at himself for daydreaming.
Behind him, the clock struck the hour.

Javert whipped around so fast he fell off the sofa. He stared wide-eyed at the face of the clock. Its pendulum swung to and thro in its usual steady rhythm. A rhythm it hadn’t had in days.
“I’m going mad,” he muttered. “There is no other explanation. It is all in my mind. It must be!”
A crash interrupted his musings. He scrambled to his feet. The noise had come from upstairs this time. Determined to find out what it was, he ran up the stairs. But before he was halfway, his shaving mirror came floating down to meet him.

For the terror that beset him, it might as well have been the razor coming for him. He stepped back, barely catching himself when he tumbled down the last few steps in his haste to get away. The mirror floated ever closer, ever closer so he could see his own reflection in the silver.
And something else.
He froze. Behind him was only wall, but in the mirror, he saw a second face. It was vague, but the white hair and beard were instantly recognisable.
“J-jean?” Javert stammered.
The face in the mirror nodded. To Javert, the world went black.
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Fill: The Ghost of You (or: ghost!Valjean!) pt 6&7/7

There! All done! All seven instalments now up at:

archiveofourown. org/ works/ 936342/chapters/ 1823513

(Frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

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