Mlle. Dubois was shocked to see Jacques standing there in her face, breathing his wine laced breath down her lowcut dress. She had changed, after that morning encounter with Javert, into a more seductive dress. She had hoped deep in her mind that he would return. She didn't make a note of it, but she had noticed his attention to her cleavage once he had sat down. She only remembered this now, because she had wished he would kiss her neck with his breath running down her blouse. That fantasy had become a sort of reality, except Jacques was certainly not Javert. She took an adverted glance to the bottle in his hand, and suspected that it was not the first one that night. She thought that after his attempts earlier he would give up, but no he must have decided to wait until Javert left so that she would have no one to protect her. He moved around her and sat at the table. She quickly moved away heading for the backroom. Jacques called to her before she had time to leave.
"Well, you pretty little putain, where's your precious pimp Javert to protect you? That good for nothing Gypsy bastard, how could you ever fall for him?" He barely got those words without administering a horrendous belch, that made her nose curl in disgust.
"He's a gentleman..." She reflected a moment on his words. What if he was saying something true? She couldn't tell whether it was the wine or his so called brain talking, but if it was the truth she was in trouble. 'What if he is a Gypsy?' she thought. 'He could rob me blind and I wouldn't know. And here I am letting him get closer to me without any sort of guard. You idiot!' She looked at the drunken flic and then added, "...unlike you Monsieur!" Jacques, angered by her words threw the table aside. She tried to run, but he caught her and held her by the neck tightly so that wouldn't escape. She could only smell the horrible stench he was emmitting. "Monsieur, this is not wise!" She warned, but her words just angered him more.
"Come on, you bitch!" He yelled dropping the bottle in order to wrap his arm around her waist. "We're going to a lovely little flat, cherie." He grinned a sadistic grin which made her scream in terror. He was so much stronger than she was. He covered her mouth to silence her as best he could. She managed to kick over a chair before she was dragged into the streets. He carried her around the waist until they reached as alley. Shoving her harshly against the house he kissed her soft lips, then burried his face in her breasts. His one hand held her face forcefully against the wall, so that she couldn't scream. The other hand worked its way up her skirt stopping just to give her plump thighs a giddy pinch before he carressed the swell of hind, pinching and squeezing it. He didn't realize his strength, because he was squeezing so hard that tears came to her eyes. He moved his face up around her neck and removed his hand from her butt just enough so that he could undo his pants. She tried once again to scream as her one leg rose to knee him. She didn't succeed, but rather seemed like she wanted him, at least in his eyes. His hand wandered back to her skirt. He tore off her underclothes and advanced towards her. He paused a moment and she sighed thinking that this was just a cruel joke and that he wouldn't proceed. He removed his face from her neck and slid his hand over her throat so that his thumb rest on her voice box. If she would even dare scream he could crush it in a second. Her arms struggled against him, but could do nothing. He grinned a horrible grin. Only some of his face was lite in the moonlight. Just enough to see his horrid eyes as they ran over her body.
"You smell so good. You must be from class! Relax, cherie, this will be fun..." He began to laugh a laugh which chilled her body. "Welcome to our town putain!" He pushed his mouth onto her face powering his saturated tongue into her delicate mouth. She reached with her hands and clawed at his skin. He shrieked in pain and threw her to the ground which cut open her rosey skin. She gave the loudest scream that she could as Jacques grabbed her from the ground with his arm raised to strike.
Javert approached the cafe. He felt silly going back after he had just sneaked out, but he wanted to escort her home safely. He realized that Toulon, though a town not ridden with crime, still held danger at night. He walked through the opened door and called out when he did not see her.
"Mlle. Dubois, are you here?" He looked around the cafe with it's table and chairs overturned. Not receiving a reply he looked behind the curtain which led to the backroom only to discover that it too was empty. He then suddenly realized that the front door was left wide open. The bottle smashed on the floor was the last clue which made him disciffer that there was a struggle here. He rushed outside hoping he was not too late when suddenly he heard a cry and ran in the direction from which it came.
When Javert arrived at the spot where the scream had come from, he was shocked and appauled at what he saw. There Jacques stood beating down on Mlle. Dubois in a constant furious movement that only Javert could stop. He wasted no time in pushing Jacques off of her. Javert had pushed him with so much strength that Jacques soon lay on the ground unconcious after hitting the wall. Javert abruptly turned to Mlle. Dubois who rest on the ground exhausted and bleeding. He needed to find a doctor, but the town doctor was away this week. Javert cursed his luck. Making a quick decision he handcuffed Jacques and tied him to carriage post then offered Mlle. Dubois a hand home. She reached up willingly then quickly drew back with fear in her eyes.
"What's wrong? I will not hurt you. I mean you no harm!" She just glared at him. He could clearly read the hate and pain in her eyes.
"Leave me be! I cannot trust even the police anymore!" She spat at him and added, "Especially not a Gypsy cop!" as salt to the wound. She read anger in his eyes and was sure he was either going to strike her or just leave her to die there, but he didn't. He looked at her furociously for a minute then made such sudden movements she could do nothing but freeze in place. Before she knew what had happend she realized that she was in his arms and being carried somewhere. Javert walked with the most determined pace to the only hospital that Toulon had. He pounded on the door as best he could with his package carfully holding him around the neck. There was no answer.
"Monsieur?" She began not knowing if he would welcome anything that she had to say after her first insult.
"Yes?" He replied, his tone laced with concern, but touched with anger.
"My home is not far from here if you would please return me there, you could be on your way." Javert followed her directions. He knew exactly which home it was. He hadn't noticed until he arrived at the small shared-house on the outskirts of town, that she had fallen asleep in his arms. He looked down at her. Her dress was almost all covered in blood, and in her hand she clutched a small key which he managed to retrieve and open the door with. He stood for some minutes wondering what he should do. Her wounds needed attention, and yet he could not enter a ladie's room. It only took him a few moments to make up his mind, after all, she was getting heavy for him. He marched distinguishedly into the room and found her bed in the moonlight. He quickly lit the lamp and then filled a water basin and heated it after lighting the stove. With this started he searched the closest for some linnen. As he opened the door he received the wonderful scent that she first emmitted when they got close. He soon realized that he had opened the door to her dresses. Feeling guilty he plucked at a couple realizing that she was wearing the most expensive dress which was now ruined with blood and dirt. The rest of her dresses were very homely and plain, which led him to wonder if she had anyone who lived with her, or took care of her. 'Surely she must have someone.' He thought closing the doors. 'She otherwise couldn't afford this place seeing as how she just moved here.' At a loss for finding linnen he decided to alert the concierge. A pleasant elderly woman who also ran the bakery answered to his determind knock.
"Who is it? Oh, M. Javert, what brings you here this time of night?" He looked nervous under her scrutinizing stare.
"I...uh...that is..." he took a moment to compose himself. "Mlle. Dubois needs your assistance. The hospital is closed and she needs someone to tend to her wounds." It took Mme. Curieux a moment to comprehend this, but she soon followed with some linnens in her hand. Javert stopped at the door and waited outside. He didn't want Mme. Curieux to think that he was the one who caused her harm, nor did he want her to spread any rumors of his involvement in Mlle. Dubois beating. After all, Mme. Curieux was the town's gossiper, and nothing was held sacred.
Javert took this time to ponder Mlle. Dubois. He had a hatred for what she called him, for it showed that she indeed knew he was a Gypsy, and didn't trust him for it. It hurt him deeply. More than he would even be willing to admit. He hoped that Jacques didn't violate her in any way. Suddenly he remembered Jacques and had to go retrieve him before he awoke. Javert ran off to take care of Jacques and then decided that he would check on Mlle. Dubois in the morning.
Javert settled in for the night, after writting his report. He didn't know if he would ever get used to all the paperwork. He had safely locked up Jacques and then returned to Mlle. Dubois' home, where he was informed by a still skeptical Mme. Curieux that she was fine and was sleeping soundly.
Javert lie in his bed still thinking of her. The pain and distrust in those beautiful blue eyes were almost too much for him to bear. He fell asleep dreaming of that moment when she reached across the table at the cafe and cupped her hand over his. He dreamed of what would've happend had he not removed his hand, and so he slept the night through, realizing that something was happening, something that he believed was called love.