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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 18:21:54 GMT -5
***Continued from sueniverse.proboards106.com/index.cgi?board=police&action=display&thread=5498&page=3#262414**** Javert had never seen Jason's house before--the house Justin's uncle had left him--and this occurred to the younger officer as the cab pulled up, staining his cheeks a bit in embarrassment. It was a two-story, narrowish townhouse with a picket fence and a garden bare from winter, the house itself painted in a rather appalling pastel sort of yellow with white trimmings, the entire affair set up a bit from the street so that there were a set of stone steps from the curb up to the front gate and another set of wooden steps leading to the small porch. Jason grunted, hoping Javert would say nothing on the color of the house and instead gave the older officer a pleading look, not wishing to be unmanned by having to ask to be carried up the several sets of stairs.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 18:36:15 GMT -5
Javert just gave a silent nod of consent as he helped Jason from the carriage and paid the driver.
The color of the house might be a bit of an eyesore, but Javert felt he really had no right to berate anyone when it came to home decoration. After all, ever since he'd been in Paris the inspector had lived in the same place.
A single, small room on the top floor of a very old house. He rented it from an old lady who was really quite glad to have a man - and a police inspector at that - in the house, even if he was rarely actually there. The room only contained the bare necessities. A bed, if you could even call it that, a small desk Javert used to work while at home and further rather Spartan furnishings.
He didn't need much, so why would he bother owning it?
The inspector patiently waited until the hansom was gone, not wanting to cause Cluont any further embarrasment, before he actually lifted the man and carried him to the door.
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 18:45:26 GMT -5
The junior man's face and ears burned and he clumsily fished in his coat pocket for his key, leaning over carefully and reaching down to undo the lock. Happily, Lee would be at the shop still at this hour and he could be spared that embarrassment at least.
The house was warm and cosily furnished, everything had always been left alone as it was when Justin's father had owned the place. To the left of the entryway, a small parlor, to the right the kitchen and straight a head a narrow hallway leading to the spare bedroom just after the stairs.
"Up." he grunted and waived his hand at the staircase. He debated a bath to clean himself of blood and to better take stock of his damage, but decided that would simply be much too much to bear with Javert in the house. The door to his bedroom was the only one open on the second floor, the master suite in the house with a large four-poster, and seemingly two of everything else on either side of the room--two small writing desks, two wardrobes, two wash basins.
And of course, Justin's somewhat wrinkled and smallish uniform was still hung from one of the posters at the foot of the bed. Any fool could see the thing would never have fit Jason at any age beyond puberty and he only hoped Javert had the good graces not to say anything about it.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 19:01:53 GMT -5
"Can't even trust you to do something sensible like having a ground-floor bedroom, can I?" Javert offered as a token grumble.
Yet, without further objection the inspecor began carrying his colleague up the stairs. While it was sometimes a bit of a challenge to keep his balance, the weight in his arms and warmth against his chest was strangely welcome. Javert wasn't a very physical person by nature and holding someone in his arms in such a manner was a rare and almost pleasurable event.
"I'll just put you down on the bed," he murmured, eyeing the uniform but choosing not to comment on it for now. One fight a day was enough.
With something approaching gentleness, Javert carefully laid Jason down on the four-poster.
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 19:08:53 GMT -5
He pulled himself up to sitting against the headboard, wincing at his leg, and swung the stump over the edge of the bed with a growl of pain to rid himself of the cold and sticky mess his bloody trousers had become, quickly undoing the snaps and tossing the ruined bit of cloth across the room to land on the chair in front of the writing desk haphazard.
From there, he had a time getting out of his uniform until he sat in his shirt-sleeves, the rest of his gear dropped on the floor--something he would normally never do--and he rested against the headboard, sweating profusely and looking a bit green.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 19:19:26 GMT -5
Javert watched Jason wearily.
Clearly, this wouldn't do... he couldn't leave the man by himself and there was nobody else he could ask to take care of Cluont, which could only result in...
Yes, if someone somewhere existed... He really hated Javert.
"You look like Hell, Cluont." With that statement Javert went to get a damp cloth. He wasn't an experienced nurse by a long shot, but he was fairly certain that a damp cloth would be useful.
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 19:24:03 GMT -5
"You're one to talk....wait." his brain was fogged and the reaction came unbidden before he realized what he was saying didn't make terrible much sense. Instead, he sat up to get his braces off his shoulders and unsnapped the side of his trousers, shoving them off roughly and quickly while Javert was out of the room and pull the sheet over his lap--he was so damned hot...the room was just so..stiffling.
"Why is it so hot in here---open the window..." he muttered.
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 19:47:06 GMT -5
"I think you're getting a fever," Javert stated as he walked back. "Probably best to get your temperature down first."
The inspector began by wiping Jason's sweaty and green-ish face while at the same time attempting to rid the other man of his shirt.
Who'd have thought Inspector Javert would one day give someone - much less Jason Cluont - a spongebath? Certainly not Javert, in any case... but what had to be done, had to be done. He wasn't going to risk the man falling seriously ill or worse.
He didn't hate Jason that much... not by a long shot.
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 19:54:34 GMT -5
Jason frowned and slapped at Javert's intruding hands, looking rather put out and shifting uncomfortably on his mattress.
"Look here, what do you think you're doing, taking liberties with a sick man!"
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 19:58:38 GMT -5
"Oh, do be quiet Cluont... if you are ever to die by my hand, it shall be in a manner that is pleasing for me. Satisfying even. You are not going to give in to some bloody fever, are we clear?" Javert looked the other man in the eye before re-wetting the cloth in the washbasin and continuing the process.
Why did Jason always insist on being such a royal pain in the rear, even when Javert was actually trying to help him out for a change?
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 19, 2009 20:04:13 GMT -5
"I'm not worried about dying..." he protested weakly and allowed Javert to divest him of his last article of clothing before thumping back against the headboard again.
"Open the window..."
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Post by Javert on Mar 19, 2009 20:13:26 GMT -5
"Well, I am. To start and to finish it, it wouldn't look good on my record, letting another officer die," Javert grumbled, heading over to the window to open it.
"Here, it's open. Happy?"
With that he walked back to the bed. "Can I get you a glass of water or something?"
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 20, 2009 0:47:42 GMT -5
"Brandy" he croaked, sure Javert wouldn't bring him his needle case, "downstairs, in my study, back of the house."
He felt clammy now and frowned, starting to pull the blanket over the sheet that was covering him but thought better of it.
"Need to get the wound cleaned..."
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Post by Javert on Mar 20, 2009 2:58:46 GMT -5
"Of course." Javert nodded and went to get the brandy, navigating through the house with both the ease and carefulness of one who mainly knew such places as crimescenes.
The inspector wished there was a doctor he could fetch, but most of the so-called doctors in Paris would hardly do a better job than he was doing himself for a much larger fee than the occasional command or insult.
The brandy wasn't difficult to locate for someone so accostumed to browsing through other people's effects in search of evidence and it wasn't long before Javert could once again make his way upstairs. Secretly he could feel the slow effect age and a life full of chases and investigation was taking on him, but he would never say so. Much less show it. Javert knew what happened to cops who gave any sign of possibly being even slightly past their due date. Far too often they were stuck behind their desk, ready to become one of the prefecture's ghosts, occasionally heard through the shuffling of paper or the scratching of a pen, but no more than that.
He had to admire Jason - well, at least in the privacy of his own mind - for not letting that happen to him in spite of all the events now in the past. If the inspector was really honest, he could feel respect for the other man in a quantity none would evert think Javert could feel for Cluont. In spite of their bickering, their insults and even their occasional actual fights... they weren't all that different in the end. True fighters for what they thought was right.
If Javert were ever to die in the streets of Paris, he hoped Jason would be there to bash in the perpetrator's skull and drag the other inspector's body back... cursing him the entire way.
A wry smile played across the bearded man's lips before he put on his game face once again and stepped into the bedroom.
"Here's your brandy, Cluont. Do tell me you haven't managed to die in the few minutes I've left you alone."
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Post by Inspector Jason Cluont on Mar 20, 2009 15:03:10 GMT -5
Jason managed a glare and grabbed at the glass, throwing the drink back greedily and then flopping back against the headboard to rest himself, feeling at least a bit calmer.
After another moment, he swallowed and nodded to himself, sat up, and peeled the sheet away from his injury (careful to keep himself otherwise covered for modesty's sake).
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