Chapter Text
1.
The winters in Montreuil-sur-Mer were colder than in Paris. Yet this prosperous industrial town rivaled the capital in Christmas spirit. Under Mayor Madeleine's governance, the streets were immaculate, shops flourished, and even the most modest worker could afford a decent Christmas gift—though this might have had something to do with the Mayor's habit of secretly subsidizing the local merchants.
On this particular afternoon, two remarkable figures appeared at the Christmas market. Their noteworthiness, it should be said, wasn't entirely due to their appearance (though that certainly didn't hurt).
One was Inspector Javert of the police force. He wore his signature navy greatcoat, beneath which peeked a meticulously maintained black queue. The fine tailoring accentuated his already impeccable posture, while beneath his perfectly groomed eyebrows lay eyes the color of a winter lake—a steely blue-grey. At present, those eyes were scanning the shelves with intense concentration, as if conducting a matter of utmost importance.
Walking beside him was Mayor Madeleine. This gentleman, though older, remained handsome enough to make one blush. He wore a bottle-green wool coat that draped elegantly from his shoulders, the rich fabric flowing smoothly to outline his broad shoulders and long legs. His well-trimmed greying brown beard seemed deliberately chosen to balance his impossibly gentle brown eyes. Those eyes now sparkled with a suspicious light that anyone who knew him would recognize: it usually meant he was plotting some well-intentioned mischief that would inevitably give others a headache.
2.
It had all started the previous evening.
The fire in the hearth had been diligently casting warm shadows across the small parlor walls. Cosette was curled up in her favorite armchair, clutching her doll, her little head nodding as the Mayor's bedtime story gradually lulled her to sleep.
"Papa," she suddenly asked through a yawn, "is Father Christmas real? Mrs. Clemence says he comes on Christmas Eve with his reindeer to bring presents to all good children."
Valjean froze. He opened his mouth, intending to explain that it was merely a beautiful legend, but when he saw the expectation shining in his daughter's eyes, those rational words transformed into a soft, almost resigned sigh: "Yes, if you're a good child."
"Then I'll hang my biggest stocking by the fireplace!" Cosette exclaimed excitedly.
3.
The Mayor's office in Montreuil-sur-Mer was as busy as ever. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow upon the towering stacks of paperwork.
"...And finally, the holiday patrol schedules have been adjusted accordingly," Javert concluded, closing the file in his hands. He stood ramrod straight, the morning light catching the silver buttons of his uniform, making them gleam.
The Mayor set down his pen. "Thank you, Inspector." He paused, then added, "I'm afraid I need your assistance with a... rather delicate matter."
Javert raised an eyebrow.
"Cosette has heard about Father Christmas," Valjean said softly, "and now she believes he brings presents to good children."
"You always find ways to complicate matters for yourself," Javert sighed. "I suppose you'll be climbing down chimneys at midnight now?"
"That's why I need an accomplice," Valjean smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Cosette is very fond of her Uncle Javert. Besides..." he paused meaningfully, "she hopes you'll join us for Christmas Eve."
Javert's stern expression wavered ever so slightly.
"She's just learned to make gingerbread," Valjean added, pressing his advantage. "She's been quite eager for you to try it."
Javert gave a slight bow of his head. "If Monsieur le Maire has no further instructions, I shall take my leave."
"Wait, Inspector," Valjean called after him, "are you free at three this afternoon? We might try our luck at the Christmas market."
"As you wish, Monsieur le Maire."
4.
Christmas markets are much the same everywhere, filled with glittering trinkets while the air is rich with the aroma of roasted chestnuts and mulled wine, accompanied by the ever-present sound of carol singing. The most eye-catching spectacle was the choir in the central square, led by a tall, handsome fellow with a splendid beard who wore a ridiculous hat adorned with reindeer antlers that bobbed with his every movement. He clutched a collection tin, and while a queue of young ladies waited to make their donations, the poor chap struggled with the stubborn lid while attempting to maintain his singing.
Javert navigated through the bustling stalls, fighting the urge to reach for his truncheon. He watched Mayor Madeleine walking ahead, clearly in his element amid the festive atmosphere, examining each stall with genuine interest.
"Ah!" The Mayor suddenly stopped, picking up a plump snowman doll. The creature wore a red Christmas hat, its rotund body wrapped in a green scarf, with button eyes that gave it an especially endearing appearance. "Look, Inspector, Cosette would adore this."
Javert glanced at the snowman's somewhat simple-minded smile and frowned slightly. "Monsieur le Maire, if I may be frank, such toys provide only fleeting happiness." He turned to a nearby bookstall and selected a thick volume bound in brown leather. "Now, 'Justice and Law For Young Minds'—this is a gift of true value."
Valjean eyed the sombre-looking tome with concern. "Inspector, I'm not entirely convinced an eight-year-old would want to receive such a book for Christmas."
"Education knows no season," Javert declared with utmost seriousness. "Besides, the illustrations are quite engaging." He opened the book, pointing to a drawing of a policeman maintaining order. "See? Perfectly suitable for children."
Valjean glanced at the illustration of a policeman apprehending a thief and unconsciously hugged the snowman a little tighter.
"You know, Inspector," he said gently, "we could perhaps get both. Cosette could have a charming companion on Christmas morning, and then in the evening, she could enjoy a... er, most educational bedtime story?"
Javert stared at the rotund snowman for a long moment before finally conceding.
"As you wish, Monsieur le Maire."
