A/N: I thought I'd take a shot at a Valjean/Javert love story of sorts, mostly focusing on Javert's adverse reaction to the situation. I just thought it would be an intriguing concept, and I do hope that I've stayed at least somewhat true to the characters. Also, the first three sentences I've included in my story are from Hugo's novel….just thought they resonated well.

Hope you enjoy…or not. Read/rant/review if you choose to do so.

Chapter 1: Trouble Process Report

Before him he saw two roads, both equally straight: but he did see two; and that terrified him—he who had never in his life known anything but one straight line.

Valjean's generosity toward him, Javert, overwhelmed him.

His situation was beyond words.

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Javert passed through an alley to the Rue Saint Martin and caught his reflection in the cracked glass of a window. An unrecognizable haggard man with sunken eyes stared back at him. How did this happen? How could he, the very essence of order and authority, become reduced to the likes of the rabble he stood against? He ran a hand through his untied hair, which fell raggedly across his face.

One thought alone continuously raced through his mind as the night unfolded: that his admiration of the convict, Jean Valjean, was far greater than he could imagine. There was nothing to refute the fact, and he could not bear to accept it.

Valjean, in his eyes, was a benevolent criminal—a virtuous liar. How could there even exist such a being? It was an absurdity, yes, but he believed in the notion truthfully. Valjean could never do wrong, and at that moment he realized his mad pursuit of the man had been futile. He scoffed at the epiphany. If the chase had been so meaningless, then why had he carried on with it for so long?

For a moment, Javert paused and reflected. What was the matter with him? Valjean had, after all, spared Javert's life. But this unforeseen act only tortured him more. Suddenly his apparent revulsion of the criminal surrendered to the hands of respect. Did his feelings toward Jean Valjean truly extend beyond mere admiration? Could it really be…affection?

Javert recoiled at the notion. So often had he entertained the idea before, but never left any room for acceptance. He couldn't—not for a man of his stature and disposition. Besides, it was illogical, and it would only lead to self-punishment. He buried the thought in the back of his mind and walked on.

The imposing façade of Notre Dame loomed in the distance. He slowly approached its doors in trepidation, as though his boots were filled with lead. He stopped and turned away. His heart ached. His faith was unraveling. What good would an act of repentance do for him now?

He continued to wander the streets and became increasingly chagrined when his thoughts kept straying back to Valjean. How could he love—he who had never known how to—and above all, love someone he had nothing in common with? He feared Valjean—and he adored him. It was becoming all too much.

He walked along the Quai de la Corse and peered into the dark waters of the Seine. Its strong current lapped at the sides, as though it was trying to reach for him. At the Pont au Change he glimpsed the forbidding towers of the Conciergerie sharp against the sky and suddenly felt lightheaded. With one hand he steadied himself against the parapet of the bridge, feeling the cold stone against his palm. Light from a solitary gas lamp flickered nearby. Its dim glow was hardly enough to illuminate the rest of the cavernous street. He knew what he must do.

Javert looked over the edge of the bridge. Below him was a black abyss. Above, a starless sky. All around, he was walled in darkness, yet everywhere he turned he saw Valjean.

He removed his hat with a tremulous hand and placed it on the parapet. He then stepped over to the other side. As he balanced there, his vision started to blur. There was no turning back, no seeing Jean Valjean ever again.

All for the better, he thought. It would be over quickly and the convict would torment him no longer. He exhaled sharply, closed his eyes and leaned forward.

"Javert?" a voice called.

Startled, the inspector whipped his head around. Valjean stood behind him, a horrified look on his face. His tattered shirt was stained red from the dying insurgent's blood, his beard matted and his hair a tangled grey mass. Javert felt a sudden pang of happiness fill within him, which quickly dissipated.

"Leave!" Javert barked.

Valjean slowly approached the parapet.

"I said leave!" Javert hissed once again, a fierce glint in his eye.

Valjean paused momentarily and stared at the inspector. This man who was once a resolute lion of the police force was now reduced to nothing more than a pitiable mortal staring death in the face.

"I can't," said Valjean.

Javert trembled slightly, unable to look at the worried convict.

"Are you so blind, Valjean? You've seen what has transpired at the barricades tonight," he said. "This world is hopeless. My faith is gone; I've betrayed my duty and all that I stand for."

Valjean looked at him bewildered. "Surely you don't mean that."

"There is no purpose for me—what have I now?" Javert spoke steadily.

At this remark Valjean paused. "You have me," he said quietly.

How dare he, Javert thought. Not now. He had not the courage to confront Valjean, despite having easily done so many times before. How could he stand face to face with the man he loved and withhold how he truly felt?

Instead, Javert did not respond. He wanted it to end, to drown the tumultuous thoughts that raced through his mind—but somehow he remained frozen.

After a long silent moment, Valjean placed a calloused hand on Javert's shoulder and felt the inspector flinch at his touch. He glanced down at Javert's knuckles, which had turned white from clutching the parapet for so long.

Slowly and unsteadily Javert turned around, climbed over the parapet and stood face to face with Valjean. Through the dim light he could make out the convict's red and hollow eyes, slightly glassy, but strangely welcoming. They stood in silence momentarily. Valjean opened his mouth to speak, but Javert, with a reflex of swiftness, seized Valjean's shirt collar and thrust him against the parapet.

"Why are you here?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I told you to leave me!"

"I'm waiting for you to arrest me," Valjean said calmly.

Javert let out a soft demented chuckle. "Don't be stupid. I cannot do such a thing."

He then released Valjean from his grasp and started to back away into the shadows.

"Where are you going?" Valjean asked, a slight air of agitation in his voice.

"It doesn't matter," Javert said without looking back.

"But you're forgetting your hat," Valjean said.

Javert dropped his shoulders in impatience. He trudged back to where Valjean stood and reached for the hat, but Valjean quickly pulled it away.

"First, answer me where you're going."

Javert's face contorted with pent-up fury and embarrassment. "Enough of your ridiculous games!" he snarled and waved a hand in front of him. "Give that to me."

"Please tell me where you are going."

Javert turned to leave. "That is not your concern."

"Then if you do not tell me, I shall have to follow you."

"You will do no such thing!" Javert spat.

"Come with me," Valjean called to him in one last effort of desperation.

Javert stopped, taken aback by this proposition. He considered letting down his guard, but he quickly turned. "Damnation, Valjean! You can never let things be, can you?"

Valjean shot him a fatigued glance. "You're right. I cannot," he said with a sigh.

"Then make an exception this time," said Javert.

"But I only want to help you."

"Ah," Javert began derisively, "you want to help me. I suppose you think that I am somehow indebted to you because of what happened at the barricade."

Valjean only shook his head. "Is it against the law to help a fellow man?"

The inspector said nothing for a long moment. His breath became even as he contemplated his next move. With as much restraint as he could gather, he buttoned his greatcoat in the methodical fashion as he always did. He took his hat from Valjean and cleared his throat. "Where do you propose we go?"

A flicker of ease filled Valjean's countenance. "I know a place," he said. "This way."

Another A/N: Well, hope you liked it. If you decide to stick with the story, Chapter 2 is almost complete…I'm just struggling with some mad writer's block at the moment, so I should mention that I welcome ideas, suggestions, or anything that would make the story better!