"Inspector Javert, take a seat," the Commissioner ordered from behind his desk without so much as a glance at the door, the quill in his hand scratching furiously over the paper before him. His large, rotund form sat in a mass, filling the wooden chair he occupied; his balding head was ringed with his remaining slick, greasy grey hair, and graying stubble barely covered his fat cheeks, lining the great layering folds of chins that drooped to his chest.

The Inspector bowed sharply at the waist before stepping through the door and striding to the single empty chair before the Commissioner's bureau. He refused the invitation to sit before a superior, glaring at his charge as she made the slightest motion to fill the chair. A glare which she returned directly with those damn blue eyes. He turned his head abruptly forward once more, his pristine posture at attention, waiting for his commander once more.

Another moment of weighted silence passed before the Commissioner looked up from his work, his eyes black—starkly dark against his pale skin, his graying hair. "So, Javert," his smile spread wide, his chin jiggling as he spoke, "This is the woman you spoke of," his eyes wagged over her. She was pretty, strikingly handsome if not fashionably beautiful with that full figure. "I followed your case with great interest, Comptesse de Rénauld. Never thought you would be found guilty, not when your husband… your late husband, I mean… was harrowed by that many creditors. Money or love is the usual motive."

"Well, believe me, Monsieur le Commissionaire, when I tell you that… love… for my husband would never have been a motive," she replied cryptically, that same enigmatic smile across her lips. The Inspector sent her a warning glare from beside her for her near insubordination. He would tolerate none of that, personally.

But the Commissioner laughed heartily at her response, "So we concluded in our investigation. I'm just curious why a woman who married into such a noble lineage would refuse her release back to those echelons of society from which she had been so abruptly arrested." He raised a thick, scraggy and grey brow at her, "You are free, yet you beg to remain here, bound by the confines of the law as a dog of the police."

"Yes, Monsieur le Commissionaire. I understand the decision," her mezzo voice sounded clear and confident.

"And you agree then that in return for this position, you are voluntarily placing yourself directly beneath the power of Inspector Javert?" at which point, the old man's black eyes, indicated the policeman beside her with a single darting glance.

"Yes, Monsieur. I willingly do so," her respectful, official tone took the Inspector off guard, and, half shocked, half suspicious his stern eyes glanced over to her proud face, her erect posture. It was like she suddenly, instantaneously assumed her new role. It was… impressive… startling… arousing. He could not remove his eyes from her profile, observing the slightest sliver of her violet irises from his sidelong view. She vowed to be his, under his power, under him…

"Inspector Javert?" the Commissioner shot his a doubtful, suspicious look.

"Yes, Monsieur le Commissionaire?" he replied, returning his gaze forward.

The Commissioner smiled patronizingly, "You are my best officer by leaps and bounds, Javert. But I asked you if you were certain of your agreement to this."

Javert cleared he throat calmly, "My apologies, Monsieur. Yes, I agree to it on one condition."

"Name it, Javert."

"That I have the right to terminate this agreement if and when I see fit."

Javert smirked slightly at the loudly drawn inhale from his new subordinate.

"Perfectly sound, Inspector. Now if you could both sign this document, this contract will be complexly formalized," the Commissioner held up his quill in his fat fingers.

Striding forward, the Inspector took the quill in his own hand, dashing his slanted, perfect signature in a single flourish. Then straightening, he passed the feather to the woman behind him, deliberately pressing his palm into hers in the process. Her face showed no regret and no compulsion to pull away; those eyes held his own with direct, almost challenging strength. He watched her bend over the bureau top, dip the quill in ink once more and scratch out her own signature beneath his.

"You may go," the Commissioner dismissed them, blowing air to dry the ink before placing it atop a high pile of papers.

Inspector Javert marched forward to the door, holding it open for his officer to pass, then shutting it firmly behind them both. He raised a single bushy brow as he gazed down at her upturned face, sensing her defiance barely held in check. "And now, woman, you are mine," those alluring blue circles narrowed in their gaze. He continued, "You will obey my every order. You are under my command, that is until I release you from this contract to throw you back out into the world you hide away from."

"Yes, Inspector," she replied automatically and obediently. But that obedience did not shine in the rebellious light of those violet eyes, in the revolutionary angle of her defiant chin.