Opening Authoressial Note: In honor of Barricade Day, I present to you a day-late friendship fic featuring Valjean and Javert after the barricades. I warn you that it goes from serious to not-at-all in a split second near the end, then straight back to serious, so watch out for that.

Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miz. I know. It's sad. Pity me.

"Take me."

Valjean did not register the comment at first, focused as he was on the fact that the leader of the gang that had attempted to mug him was holding a gun to his head. He was furiously attempting to think of a way to escape – they had made it clear that no matter what he did or said, he was not going to end the evening alive.

When the interloper spoke again, he noticed.

"I said take me instead." The owner of the voice stepped into the circle of dim light that was offered by the streetlamp, and Valjean was no end of surprised to see the man who had chased him across France ever since he had broken his parole.

"And why should we take you?" the gang leader demanded harshly. A wry smirk tugged at the corner of Javert's lips.

"For one thing, I don't have a family waiting for me at home."

While Valjean was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept of Inspector Javert being this considerate, the leader scoffed. "That just makes it more fun."

"Does it." Valjean saw something flash in the inspector's eyes. Something dark. Something unpleasant. "If it's fun you're looking for, then consider what you might gain by choosing me over him. All he has for family is a young woman who isn't even related to him by blood. Whereas I am one of the most successful inspectors on the police force. I am widely known and respected. My death would cause much more of a fuss than his, and I assume that 'fuss' is what you consider 'fun.'"

The leader thought for a moment. Then Valjean let out a slight gasp as the pistol turned from him to his lifelong enemy.

"Getting to see all the coppers in the city all riled up. Now, that would be fun."

And he pulled the trigger.

Almost as soon as he did, Valjean was on him, and he was unconscious before he hit the ground. Seeing the speed and ferocity with which he moved, and knowing their leader to have had the only firearm, the rest of the gang sped away into the night, leaving Valjean alone to tend to the inspector who was supporting himself against nothing but the lamppost.

"Javert. Are you -"

"Hit? Yes. Bleeding profusely onto my NEW clothes? Yes. Irritated with myself that I didn't react fast enough to get out of the way? Very much so. Now go home to your daughter and leave me alone."

"Don't be ridiculous," Valjean snapped, which was a rare thing for him to do. "I can't just leave you here. You're injured."

"Yes, and I've been injured before and I'll likely be injured again. Now go away." Dark eyes glittered at him from behind strands of equally dark hair that had escaped from their otherwise ferociously tight trappings.

"You are not serious."

"PERFECTLY." To illustrate his point, Javert pushed himself away from the streetlamp and managed to take a few steps away from it before his leg gave out and he pitched forward into Valjean's waiting arms.

"You're limping severely," Valjean hissed, trying to restrain himself from scolding the other man. "Stop squirming. You haven't got a hope of getting out of my grasp. And even if you could, you wouldn't be able to get away."

"#... abuse of power…" Javert wriggled again before finally coming to the realization that it was hopeless and giving up. "Where do you plan on taking me?"

"To my home. I can get a doctor there to treat you, and once you're there you won't be well enough to leave for several days at least, so you'll have a place to stay."

"I think I would rather die than stay voluntarily in the home of a liar and a thief," Javert said matter-of-factly.

"Well, if I leave you out here that's exactly what will happen, and I've no intention of doing so. Therefore, you haven't really got a choice."

They walked slowly in silence for a long ways, Valjean accommodating his usual long stride to fit Javert's bad limp. Finally, they turned onto Valjean's street.

"My house is just up there," Valjean said. Javert muttered something under his breath. "Pardon?"

"You've rescued me three times in one night. Can you not simply let people go their own way?"

Valjean frowned. "I don't understand what you mean…"

Javert began to count off on his fingers. "Once at the barricade. Once when I got shot. And now."

"Why? Were you in danger just now?" Valjean inquired as they reached his house.

"Mm. You know, when I rescued you, I was on my way to throw myself into the Seine." A chill ran up Valjean's back at the casual way Javert said the words. "Had you left me when I requested, I would have limped the rest of the way there. I am already half-dead from blood loss as it is."

"You're not going to die," Valjean growled, upset at the very thought. He fumbled for his key, opening the door.

All of a sudden, Javert started in his arms. "No! I can't be here! I can't go inside!"

Valjean tightened his hold on him. "Javert, just drop your blasted pride for long enough for me to get someone in here to fix your leg -"

"NO! That's not it!" The inspector's hands fisted in the fabric of Valjean's coat. "You don't understand. I will BLEED on your SOFA!"

All Valjean could do was blink.

"And on your FLOOR! Oh dear. Is your floor white? I'd rather DIE than bleed on a white floor!"

After a moment of thought, Valjean stripped off one of his gloves and laid his hand on Javert's forehead. "You have a fever."

"I do not." A violent shiver wracked Javert's body. "Haha! The room is spinning. Make it stop. It's violating the LAWR."

"You shouldn't be feverish this fast," Valjean muttered as he helped the man into the house and over to the couch. "Javert, are you sick?"

"I've been told so," the inspector said vaguely, seeming fascinated by the sight of his hand in front of his face. "They almost wouldn't let me go undercover because I passed out at the station just the other day. But they couldn't find a replacement. So HA." Suddenly his flippant attitude gave out, and he became serious again. "Why didn't you shoot me?"

"This is not the appropriate conversation for the moment," Valjean said, depriving Javert of his coat and draping a blanket around his shoulders instead. "Stay there. I'm going to go get a doctor. If Cosette wakes up and comes downstairs, let her know that -" He broke off. He had turned away to head back out into the city, but Javert had caught the back of his coat in one hand. It was such a childlike gesture that Valjean hadn't the heart to pull away.

"Please. I need to know."

"…Because I don't hurt people for simply doing their job," Valjean said quietly. There was a long pause, and then Javert's hand fell away.

"Thank you."

Valjean turned around to tell him that he was welcome, but the inspector had fainted away, likely from blood loss. A sad smile flickered across Valjean's lips.

"You're welcome, Javert."

A3: Well, not much to say here, really. Except that I might de-complete this and start building it into a story of its own (my own take on the Javert-gets-injured-and-has-to-live-with-Valjean-until-recovery) after I'm done with the two stories I'm working on now. Maybe before then! But for now… it remains a oneshot.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review! I love reviews. :3