I wrote this to an RPG, but I'll begin my story with it, too.
It begins right before the Gorbeau incident...
Another cold and never-ending night. Javert sat alone at his desk, watching the ashes in the fireplace. He had no strength to go there and heat again, although he hated coldness.
He was tired, but he couln't sleep, so instead he tried to work, but his thoughts digressed.
They only had one certain subject; and he couldn't control them.
He knit his black longcoat and rounded his collar up.
For a last time, he tried to read a report was was before him, but he didn't understand a word of it. He threw it to the floor and stood up.
"Why?" He wanted to yell. "Why can't I forget you, damned thief? Why do I dream with you every night?"
Those dreams... He never confessed them. He tried to forget them by daylight, but they were there, chasing him and torturing him forever.
Just like he did it with his desired prey.
He lied to himself for years. He said he only wanted to catch Valjean because it was his job. To catch a dangerous criminal - that's a respectable goal.
But he had to realize he didn't want to give him to the Law. He wanted Valjean - for his own.
"I want to steal him" he thought. "Am I mad? How can I desire something what's - against the Law? Madness! No. No... I must catch him and give him back to the justice. And then?"
Did he really want this? Now he could, at least, dream. But if Valjean will be in jail - he will be dead for him. Unavailable forever.
"Where are you hiding? How long, Valjean, before we meet for a last time?"
Maybe it would be better if he shot this man, instead of catching. He could say "resistance" or something. Nobody would doubt his word.
"My God... am I just thinking about murdering a man and lying about it?" He breathed heavily. "What is with me? Did Valjean infect me with his rebel thoughts? Would I... break the Law for this man?"
This thought was so horrible that he felt his heart beating faster. What if somebody heard his heretic thought?
Somebody heard, yes. But it was no mortal.
"And you do this with me, Valjean. You make me lose my mind! Curse you! No, I can't be free till you live. I need a fight. Man against man. A honest fight. You know I will find you one day. And I will defeat you. When I see you dead, maybe I'll find my peace again."
He subsided into his chair with a sigh, and he felt extremely tired. He closed his eyes but he still saw the man who haunted him.
"Who is the cat and who the mouse, Valjean? Am I hunting you or are you hunting me? I couldn't stop. Never. I need you."
And he understood something that he never wanted to confess himself. He will never be free of this man. Not even he kills him. He can't kill his feelings.
Feelings! "Since when do I have feelings?" He was angry. "I am still Javert, son and vassal of the Law. I dedicated my life to it. I can't be swayed. I mustn't be weak."
He hardened his soul. "No - nothing will break me! Not even you, Valjean. I will do my duty."
He took his hat and his nightstick, and left the room. He desperately needed some fresh air.
It was cold and the snow covered the sleeping city as he went out.
The dawn was near.