Hello there lovely readers! I feel I must defend my story after a few unsavory reviews that were obviously written with half a mind but have since been deleted. But that's besides the point, I really just want to say that the reason my version of Javert may seem OOC is not because of lack of research or grasp of the character, I just beg you to ponder on the situation Javert is going through in this story. I am trying to write this in a way that I'm certain would happen given his character. I have thrust love upon a loveless man; a man who has never really experienced love at all, of course it's going to be out of character because the only side of Javert that we really see is the vengeful, obsessed, and duty-driven Inspector. What I am proposing through this story is what would happen if, by some strange occurrence, love and infatuation was to mercilessly grasp Javert by the throat, leaving him confused and fueled by the primitive need for intimacy when it is at his fingertips.
It is upsetting that I have to defend a fanfiction such as this one, but I shall do so any way. But to those of you who are liking my story, I sincerely hope you continue to enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.

Javert jolted awake in a sudden haste and it took him several moments to figure out where he was. He was in a bed, a soft and warm bed. And then he remembered. He had kissed Guenièvre. He had kissed her and he had stayed the night with her, what had he done? How could he have done this? Javert was still in his clothes, even his boots were still on, slightly dirtying the cream coloured sheets. He sat up quickly and looked to his side. Guenièvre wasn't there.

It was dawn and so it was dark but he couldn't feel her presence next to him. He sighed. He'd ruined himself and he'd ruined any chance he had with Guenièvre. But she had kissed him first, had she not? Was it then his duty as a suitor and as a man to fulfill the duty of satisfying that needy urge of contact? He'd known Guenièvre for several months now, certainly this was acceptable. But why was she not at his side?

Javert held his head in his hands as he felt a cold draft of wind from the window. He spotted his coat thrown on the floor, pulled it on, and climbed out the window after he spotted Guenièvre.

Outside she sat, wrapped in a blanket with her eyes closed at the edge of the stone balcony. He slowly walked up behind her. Guenièvre felt his presence, his warmth behind her and she leaned back into his chest. Javert stepped back slightly, unexpecting of her contact. She shivered and he figured that the thin blanket she held around her wasn't stopping the wind from chilling her bones. Hesitantly Javert's arms wrapped around her, an attempt to offer his warmth and he silently rested his forehead on the top of her head, her hair whipping around his face from the wind.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning." Javert's throat scratched with his first words of the day, he cleared his throat quickly, "What are you doing out here?"

"The air helps me think."

"What plagues you, Guenièvre?" She smiled hearing him speak her name, she could never hear another word again if it was not spoken by Javert.

"My heart."

Guenièvre moved Javert's hand onto her chest, laying it flat over her heart gently. Javert felt her skin, soft and cold and he felt uncomfortable touching her this way. She then pressed it harder down so he could feel her heartbeats that were so strong, so fast he could hardly separate them in his mind. Javert found this strange that she was still so nervous around him, even when he wasn't wearing his uniform.

"Your heart is in rhythm with mine. I don't believe it's stopped racing since last night." He said. Guenièvre turned herself around and sat in front of him, her hands on his chest she too felt his heart racing and she smiled at this.

She stood then and led Javert back inside. At the couch, he watched Guenièvre start the fire slowly and she sat down in front of it. Javert watched her snuggle into her blanket and crawl next to him on the couch. She looked liked she was about to kiss him, but then stopped.

"I cannot believe you are letting me do this..." She laughed slightly and leaned back, "It was just yesterday I called on you to..."

Javert sat up, "Why did you call on me?"

"...you know, I don't hardly remember now. What I was really wanting to say, has already been spilled." Javert's hand wrapped around hers as he kissed her knuckles and smiled under them, an act Guenièvre would never think she'd ever see; a smile from Javert.

Javert thought then that although their relations did not proceed through the clothing, it didn't need to. And he himself could not believe that he was letting this woman take hold of him with such ease and such fervor. But he did, and he wished for nothing more than to return such intimacy, but he did not know how. He did not know when to kiss her, or when to touch her. Last night was a first for him and even then he did not feel in control of his actions, in kissing her he did what his body had told him to do, but his body was not always on alert like his mind was. And his mind did not know such subtleties.

Guenièvre had fallen asleep quickly on his chest and Javert slowly lifted her head to a pillow. He stood and straightened his coat and slipped on his hat. He turned around and noticed Guenièvre had woken and watched him like a spy from behind the couch, and his thoughts never faltered.

"Will I see you again today?" She asked.

"I've no doubt you will find me." He said as he walked to the back of the couch and knelt down so his eyes were level with hers, her sharp green eyes. He'd never noticed just how sharp her eyes were, how alert and daring they seemed. Even then, when she had bits of hair falling down over them.

"Come into the shop this afternoon?" Javert nodded, his hand brushing the hair from her forehead.

"I'll be there."

And then Javert stood and left Guenièvre to her thoughts and even a small nap. As he exited the building he ducked his head low at a few strangers walking by, hoping to hide his face from any questions. And as we walked on the distracted inspector failed to see three men in the corner alley watching him in silent anticipation.

Guenièvre stepped out of the flower shop and locked the door behind her. She froze when she heard something behind her. Footsteps? She couldn't distinguish the sound.

"Hello?" She looked around wildly at an empty street. She sighed after hearing nothing but the slight rain drizzle and began to walk down the dark street, clutching her coat around herself. She'd taken a while after closing the shop to take all the flowers back into the freezer, longer than she usually had and for that she blamed the reoccurring, torturous thought of meeting Javert at any moment, crippled by sadness when he had not come. But it was fine, he had more important things to do than to interact with her. And it was better that he was not constantly there, at least for now, so she had time to figure out what to do about her nightly habit before it became a serious problem hiding it from Javert.

And just as her thoughts switched to Javert and his face she heard more footsteps behind her. She froze. But her eyes searched for anything to protect herself with. Just ahead of her she saw a rather large rock in the sidewalk. So she began to walk forward slowly when the footsteps stopped close behind her. As she approached the rock she kicked it up with her foot and caught it casually with her hand, hopefully hiding this from her stalker. Guenièvre held the rock tightly in her hand and as the footsteps were very close behind her she whipped around with the rock raised only to be met by Javert who caught her hand swiftly.

"Guenièvre—my god, woman." Guenièvre let out haggard breath, dropped the rock, and clung to him as a form of a silent apology and she had also been relatively scared out of her wits. "What are you doing out so late?"

"I ran late at the shop. I'm sorry I nearly hit you, I've just been hearing these sounds since I closed, I thought someone was following me."

Javert pulled her from his chest, "What sort of sounds?"

"Oh, it's just me being paranoid, nothing more...How long had you been following me?"

"I was just walking down the alley not a moment ago before I approached you." Guenièvre thought for a moment, she knew she'd heard the footstep earlier than that. They must have stopped when they'd seen Javert. She was thankful, but also not, as she wanted to know who was following her. But she pushed that from her mind and sighed.

"Walk me home?"

Javert nodded and held out his arm. She took it and was thankful for his warmth.

"You look very tired." Javert had said when the door had closed behind him at her flat.

"I don't feel very tired." She said, taking her coat off.

"...how often do you sleep, Guenièvre?" She didn't answer as she loaded firewood and started a small flame. "I should let you get your rest, it is very late." And as Javert started to walk toward the door he felt Guenièvre's hand on his arm. He turned around.

"Most nights I have trouble sleeping...won't you spend tonight with me?"