Author's note: Super short story featuring my second favorite pairing. Light slash, changes events a bit. Based on the movie. Obviously, I don't own these characters (though I wish I had one of each at home). Read, review, enjoy! Depending on the feedback, I might continue the story. Also, thanks to the awesome band Needtobreathe, who inspired this story.

Seldom Second Chances Come

"Javert?"

Valjean almost sounded surprised to find him in the abandoned tavern, even after Enjolras told him about the students' captive. Yet, there he was, barely standing in the middle of the destruction if not for a noose around his neck that tugged threateningly whenever Javert's strength began to fail. He looked horrendous. His face was bloodied, lip split open, with a severe gash on his forehead. His hands were tied behind him, exposing his bruised chest through his ripped shirt. One eye was so swollen he couldn't see out of it. The other looked at Valjean with a mixture of anger, and fear. He reminded Valjean of a kicked puppy, and in that instance Valjean felt nothing but pity for him.

"24601," Javert snarled with remaining strength. "Do not take pity on me, 24601. Just get it over with."

It was like he could read his mind. Valjean reached for his pocket, Javert's gaze attached to his hand. Valjean pulled out a penknife, and flicked it open. He stared at it for a long time.

"Just do it already!" Javert gasped, beginning to actually get frightened. Scared! Of this pathetic criminal! Javert closed his eyes and wished for a quick death as Valjean stepped forward.

Valjean moved forward slowly, eyes burning. He felt as if he was on fire. Every nerve in his body was firing as he found his face inches away from the face of the man who had hunted him all his adult life, pursuing him like some sort of hellhound. "I'm about to do something I've wanted to do ever since those hellish days in Touloun." Javert squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. He was never afraid of death, but somehow this felt different.

Valjean raised his knife. I can't believe I'm about to do this. He closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to Javert's.

Javert's eyes flew open. What the hell is he doing? He felt Valjean's lips moving against his own. Moving, it seemed of their own accord, his lips pushed back. This continued for what seemed like a century, until in one swift movement Valjean stepped back, severing the noose and pulling it off Javert, tossing the rope aside.

Javert was left frozen in place, stunned, until finally his mouth worked again and he began spitting choice expletives and curses. Valjean calmly walked around him and cut his hands free. Javert whipped around to face him, and promptly collapsed.

Valjean was on his knees in an instant. "Javert, you need medical attention. Please, allow me to help you."

Javert looked up at him, eyes aflame. "I don't need your help, Valjean." He struggled to his knees, then to his feet. "Don't follow me." He staggered out the back door and into the alleyway, hanging onto the walls for support.

Valjean remained kneeling on the floor. His eyes followed the stumbling figure of Javert, and he thought, Valjean. He called me Valjean. And he smiled.

And then he wondered. Did he do it the right way? At the time, his brain was saying nothing but do it, do it! But now, he couldn't help but fear he'd done it wrong, went about it the wrong way. Seldom do second chances come along.