I do apologise for the large gap in time since I last updated any of my stories. My laptop broke and it took me some time to save up for a new one. I just need the time to type my ideas up for my various stories.

Javert spent time slowly eating his food. He was in the park, on the bench he used to eat with Madeleine. His mind was in a flurry of ideas; old suspicions had come back into focus.

The mayor had humiliated him in front of his men. Just thinking the idea filled him with both pain and anger. He had argued with Javert, then swept the whore into his arms and carried her away. He had been keeping a distance from Javert, and now he was carrying a woman so close. He was not jealous. He was just... cautious.

The mayor ought to not allow a law breaker against him like that; revealing his emotions in such a way made him vulnerable. She should be arrested, even if it was just while they investigated what really happened. You did occasionally get whores who rejected whatever it was a snob wanted them to do; they were then spun the occurrence to themselves appear the victim if it got out of hand.

A large amount of paperwork could make the rich idiot drop the charges and although the whore would spend a night in a cell, it was warmer than the streets and they got a hot meal.

Even so, for the mayor to take a law breaker to the hospital and pay for it himself? This did not send out the right image to others: That crime did pay, and it was out of the mayor's pocket.

In his anger, Javert had done something he would not have done otherwise: He had written to the Paris Prefecture and accused Madeleine of being Jean Valjean. It was ridiculous. It was not until after the mail carriage had gone, taking his letter, that it occurred to him; he did not really have any good evidence, just a display of extraordinary strength four years ago and a resemble to a man who had left Toulon about eight years ago. His memory may not be entirely accurate on how Valjean had looked anyway.

He sat staring out at the thin layer of ice that covered the water. It would take some time for the letter to reach Paris, and a while longer for a reply to reach him back here. He had spent the past week lying in bed on his own; Madeleine had spent the past week at the hospital. Javert was unsure of whether or not he wanted the man with him; how could he sleep peacefully against him when he had sent such a serious letter off to Paris.

He was debating if he should get his own room again. He had been saving the money he was earning. Bernard was back at work full time and would not take any money off the inspector, so he had enough money to do so. He could afford it, and he would not have to look the mayor in the eye anymore, but would he be able to leave without Madeleine demanding a solid reason?

An even bigger worry was what if Madeleine did not even notice Javert had moved out? It would be painful if it took weeks for Madeleine to ask why Javert was not there anymore.

He had cut down on what he was eating again. Soon, he would be unable to live with Madeleine, regardless of what the response to his letter was. There were only two real outcomes to this: either he would be right, and Valjean had been living here under a guise for some time, or he was wrong and he had insulted his mayor by comparing him to a criminal. He would have to leave.

He was saving up his money again to move out. He would have to wait until there was an appropriate room; cheap enough that he would not spend all his wages, but he wanted one in a slightly better area than he had been in previously. Unfortunately, spending these past six weeks with the mayor had spoilt him, even so he would likely stay where he was until he got a reply.

Valjean sighed as he watched Fantine; the poor woman was struggling, gasping as she called out to someone who was not there. He had spent the full week beside her, praying desperately to God to save her.

He worked hard during the day, and then left for the hospital. The sisters were kind and thoughtful, bringing him a simple meal to fill his stomach. Javert had not spoken to him since they had argued on the streets; he was always asleep in bed when he got in on an evening and the man left before Valjean woke up on a morning. It was a shame; Valjean did miss eating breakfast together, sitting in a sleepy silence while they nibbled on bread.

He glanced back over at the thin woman, now sleeping peacefully. He did not want to leave yet, his fear that she would waste away over night was strong and he wanted to stay and wait just in case.

It was pointless for him to stay though, the sisters would keep a watch over her; he could be at home with Javert instead. Valjean sighed and pushed himself up. Javert... He did want to spend more time with the man, and he did miss the grumpy inspector, however Valjean was lying to the man in every moment they were together.

He was lying to Javert in the worst way; Javert would never willing sleep with, or cuddle up to a convict. He would never be so physically affectionate with a man who had not only been in prison but had broken his parole. Yet Javert would smile at Jean Madeleine when he came in the door; he would allow himself to be coaxed into eating, or spending time together. Coaxed into coming home on time, rather than spending all his spare time working.

He had managed to stop himself going further. As much as Valjean fantasised about pushing Javert down and licking every inch of his body, then fucking him for a long time, slowly into the bed.

He walked through the town, back to his home. He walked through the falling snow with tears glistening in his eyes. It was easier to focus on Fantine, to wonder who it was she cried out to and to check she had enough food and a comfortable bed. It was easier than deciding if it was alright to stay like this with Javert, or if it would be better to force the man to be on his own again.

Was it kind or cruel to be with him like this? Kind to keep him so close, because he made Javert smile, and cruel because he lied. To change things around would be kind, because Javert always desired honesty, and it would be cruel because Javert currently trusted him with his feelings, and he would be forced to be so alone.

He sniffed as his nose began to run in the cold, and he turned up his garden path. Coming in, he headed into the front room, where there was a fireplace. It was unlit. Unexpected, but it was as cold in here as it was outside, so it can't have been lit recently.

Valjean headed through and into the kitchen. Javert was there, making a meal.

"Good evening."

"Good evening." Responded Javert, his lack of surprise hinting that Javert had once again heard him once he entered the house.

"What are you making for dinner?"

"Just bread with some jam. I can heat some soup if you would like something?"

"You should be heating soup for yourself, Javert. Bread and jam is not a filling meal after a busy day."

Javert raised his brow, but turned back to his meal without saying anything. Valjean stepped closer, looking up and down Javert's frame. He had been filling out again, but if the man had stopped eating properly since they had argued, he had not lost enough weight for it to be obvious.

It was another reason not to break this off though; Javert's eating habits before they had lived together had been appalling. Their month and a half together had helped, but he had a feeling the man would not keep up three meals a day if they split from one another.

He wrapped his arms around Javert, pressing a soft kiss into his hair. They stood together for a few moments but then Javert turned away to heat some water.

"Tea?"

"Please."