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The letter came near dawn. The envelope, edges gilded in gold leaf, bore a single word, the flowing script deep black upon the paper.
Grandfather
The title had long been a jest between them, borne of the need to hide identities, at first. But now, as Valjean took the envelope in trembling hands, a wondering smile rising on his lips, Javert watched him and knew - the title, now, was real.
Valjean turned it over, the oval of embossed wax parting under his fingers, and the envelope fluttered to the floor as he unfolded the letter. One sentence almost glowed upon the paper. Valjean held it, raised his eyes to look upon him.
“Javert.”
Valjean’s eyes were shining, his face alight with joy.
“Javert, they're here.”
“They?”
Valjean turned the paper to show him, smiling broadly.
“Twins. Baroness Fantine de Pontmercy… and Baron Georges Jean.”
He shook his head fondly.
“I told her my name was far too simple to christen a child. But it seems she's snuck it in.”
He turned eyes soft with warmth upon Javert, clasping his hands with excitement.
“They ask us to come see them. Oh, Javert, let's go at once!”
Javert could not help smiling in return, Valjean’s enthusiasm catching.
“Remember your coat, this time.”
When Valjean had received the news of his daughter's pregnancy, he'd rushed out in his shirtsleeves. Frost had gathered in his beard by the time he'd reached their house, breathless with mingled delight and concern. Excitement lent him youth again, made him careless as the young.
Valjean was already pushing his arms through the sleeves, reclaiming Javert's hand the moment his own emerged.
“Let's go!”
The house was bustling with delight as they entered, maids and butlers in a flutter. M. Gillenormand sat upon an armchair like a throne, gleefully declaiming to a friend the children's beauty, and that thank God they had his features and not his unfortunate son's, for his ears had always been too large (and too susceptible to Buonapartist chatter, he grumbled, before resuming his high spirits.) Mme. Gillenormand’s felicity was more reserved, but she smiled and hummed as she knitted something blossom-pink upon a chair.
Valjean did not wait to be ushered up the stairs, brushing past a servant with a murmured apology as he leapt the steps two at a time and burst into the room.
“Father!” Cosette exclaimed with joy.
A few steps behind, Javert entered to find the two embracing, Cosette sitting up in bed with Marius kneeling at her side. Her husband gazed at her with adulation, holding a tiny girl that yawned and snuggled in his arms, while she held a boy bundled in rose, his eyes shut in peaceful sleep. She shone, flushed with exhaustion and delight, curls sticking to her forehead as she lifted the infant towards Valjean.
“Meet your grandson,” she chirped, grinning.
“He has your face,” he murmured as he took the child into his arms, gazing at the boy with open adoration. The baby cooed and stirred, eyes opening wide to stare into Valjean’s. He reached up and grabbed a tangle of his beard, earning a laugh from both.
Javert stood back and watched them with a smile, but stayed upon the threshold, unsure where to put his hands or if he should remove his cloak. He did not want to disturb a moment of the scene - but suddenly, steps drew his eyes. Marius stood next to him, his face alight with bliss.
“Your granddaughter,” he nodded. To Javert’s relief, he did not offer to let him hold her, but still, stood close enough that the child reached up toward him with a smile, and grasped his finger.
“A powerful grip,” Javert observed. “She'll be as strong as her grandfather.”
“And as gentle as her mother,” Marius breathed, his eyes soft as he cradled her, a treasure in his arms.
“If they're only as loving as their father,” Cosette added, her eyes meeting her husband's with a smile, “then I shall be content.”
Georges Jean began to wriggle in Valjean’s arms. Gently, he gave her back to Cosette, who cuddled him close, eyes shining.
“But Father, you haven't yet met Fantine. There, she's waiting for you. Marius, come let him meet his grandpapa.”
Obediently, Marius crossed the room, hesitating only slightly before delivering the child into Valjean’s waiting arms.
Fantine burbled happily, waving her little fists and feet in excitement. Valjean held her with infinite gentleness, and his breath caught, his eyes full.
“Fantine,” he whispered, lips parted in wonder. “Your grandmother would be so proud.”
“Would you like to hold him?”
Javert’s head turned in surprise, his eyes widening in horror.
“Er, Madame, I -”
But Cosette had already lifted the child towards him. His eyes opened wide as he left his mother's arms, and he began to wail. Javert almost stepped back - but Cosette was already pressing the child into his arms, and he let out a soft grunt of surprise as he felt the baby's weight. As soon as the boy was in Javert's grip, his hands awkwardly cradling his back and head (how high should he hold the head? Did his back have enough support? Were his legs supposed to be curled that way?) the child quieted, settling against his chest with a contented sound.
“He likes his grandfather,” Cosette told him, smiling.
Where was his grandfather? Javert cast his eyes about for Valjean, and found him by the window, blissfully cradling little Fantine as he pointed out the flowers on the sill, plucking one so she could grasp it in her tiny fingers. Cosette laughed.
“Oh yes, he loves Papa already too! But look, he’s happy with you,” she said. “You calm him.”
Javert’s eyes widened. Grandfather. He was a grandfather, too? He blinked. He had barely become accustomed to Gavroche calling him his father. He was not prepared to be bestowed with this new title. He almost passed him back - but the baby cooed, and his hands would not let go. Solemnly, he offered the child a finger, which the boy grasped with satisfaction. Awkwardly, he shook the little hand.
“Hello, Georges Jean,” he said. “Well met. I… I am your grandfather?”
The title felt strange on his tongue - but not unwelcome. Cosette giggled, and Javert flushed to his sideburns. Instantly remorseful, she laid a hand on his arm, eyes twinkling with that same starlit glow as Valjean’s.
“He is charmed,” she said, nodding in acknowledgement on the child's behalf.
“It is a pleasure for him to meet you, Monsieur.”
Javert stared at the child in disbelief, Could it be true? He, who had never had a family, he who had thought his chance at happiness had vanished with the closing of the guardsman’s gate. He who, when the staff of the law had splintered in his hands, had thought his only respite lay in the churning depths. How was it true that he could have a partner, a son, a niece, and now…? Now he would have two grandchildren, to love and call his own.
It was too much.
Fear in his eyes, he almost pushed the child back into Cosette’s arms. Stumbling, he rushed outside the door, sank against the wall. His breaths came fast, and his heart crashed inside his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, he grit his teeth and tried to calm his breathing.
“Javert?”
His eyes shot open to find Valjean before him, his eyes lit with concern. Guilt speared Javert - he'd pulled him from his joy.
“I know,” Valjean murmured, resting a hand upon his arm.
“It is formidable, this blessing. It was the same for me, when I found Cosette. That perfect being, innocent and full of trust - of me, whose past haunted and hunted.”
Amazed, Valjean shook his head.
“There were times I did not believe it to be real.”
Javert released a slow breath, nodded as he stared into his eyes. How could it be, when they'd met so utterly at odds - how could it be that they were so alike, and that they'd found each other? It was the driven pursuit of the dog who hounds the lion, only to curl up at its side. It was the lion’s gentle paw upon his back, its warm head resting on his own. The end of days, this paradise. Could it be his?
He gazed at Valjean, nodded, allowed himself to be folded into his arms, to close his eyes and hear his steady heartbeat as his own calmed and eased. He opened them to Valjean’s gentle smile.
“Shall we go in?”