Les Mis isn't mine and I make no money from all these ideas that demand to be written

It started when Javert realised the money he had left over from previous years and better paid posts was drying up. He did not panic about it, simply began taking more notice of what he was spending and where he could save money.

He already only rented out one room with his landlord. It was the man's wife who kept charge of the place, but she made no comment when he informed her he would buy his own meals. The inspector was rarely in anyway, it would be less trouble for her if she did not have to guess whether or not his shift would be finished in time for a meal on any given night.

He soon stopped buying bread. It was an indulgence anyway, and he could survive without. He had survived without it, when he had been younger. He ate a lot of fruit, there was an apple orchard by the chapel of Sainte Jerome, and the priest had told him he was allowed as many as he could eat, whenever he wanted. It was a generous offer, and he had wondered if the priest required payment. The man had laughed softly, and told him to be at mass every Sunday; his presence in God's house was payment enough.

So, Javert ate apples. He ate broth in various inns, places where it was cheap and he was not likely to be robbed by the time he sat down. He kept a close eye on his money though, even resorting to keeping it hidden away, he could not lose it. He had actually managed to set his coat on fire this time, by standing too close to a fire again. He had to remember to step back from them, but the days were cold and the fire warmed him nicely.

He had to keep his money for a new uniform though. An officer of the law had to be appropriately dressed, and his did his best not to have to patch up his clothing; a policeman did not have the same influence when he arrived at a scene in a patchwork uniform. Javert would not be mocked. His appearance would be perfect.

Not eating began to edge into an obsession when one of his colleagues made an errant comment, it had been joking, but it had struck a chord within Javert.

"You don't want to be eating too much, you'll burst out your uniform and have to buy a new one!" the comment had not even been directed at Javert, rather at the young new officer who had started with them. He had come from a well off family, but had a firm belief that the law must be upheld.

Javert had never considered that side of eating. It was a necessity, nothing more, but what would happen if he ate too much? He truly could not afford to buy a whole new uniform. He asked his landlady to stop his breakfasts as well. He assured her he would eat at the station, frowning at her when she expressed her doubts.

He began to observe his reflection in mirrors. There was only a small mirror he used to shave in his room, but when he went to speak to people, their homes often held mirrors. He started using them to judge if he was close to 'bursting out his uniform'... it would not do to gain weight, after all.

He did not let this minor concern stop him from doing his job though. He was an inspector and he would do his very best for this town... and for this town's mayor. The mayor was a wonderful man, with a beautiful if rare smile and the closest thing to a heart of gold Javert had ever seen. The man worried about everything though.

When the man started claiming Javert was too thin though, it had hurt. Was the man mocking him? In his room, he had tried to use the mirror to observe if he had put on weight, if his face was too round... some reason for Madeleine to make such comments at him. He had stood with the small mirror for nearly ten minutes, trying to see what had changed on his bare body, before he realised what he was doing.

The mayor had not seen his bare body. The mayor would not want to see his bare body. Unlike the mayor, he was not an attractive man. He needed money to keep up a respectable appearance, to have a proper uniform. He had to pay for the polish for his shoes, to wash his clothes. The mayor would not care about what was under his clothing when the surface appearance was not correct.

He did waste some money though. He had a snuff box, and not eating was easier when he allowed himself to indulge in that. It was a treat, but he began to allow himself to use it when he lasted a whole day on just his lunch and still get all his work done.

Work days were long though. He spent days running through the streets on Montreuil sur Mer, chasing law breakers and keeping himself distracted from his hunger. He often did not finish his work until nearly 10 o'clock in the evening, and sometimes he even took a night shift. More work meant more money, after all.

Saving would have been easier, except there was a problem. During one night shift, Bernard was attacked. He was a man about Javert's age, but with a wife and three young children. He did not earn money when he was off.

The man made no complaint, but he forced himself to come into work, even when he was still bleeding. Bernard had gotten in the way of a knife meant for Javert. If the inspector had had his head focussed on what he was doing, rather than worrying about everything else, there would have been no problem.

He gave Bernard his savings. It was not terribly much, but it was enough to allow the man to go home and recover. He had saved Javert's life after all, it was the least he could do for the man.

Javert began to check how much give his trousers had. Perhaps if he had a little more space in the waistline, he would not wear them out as quickly. It was a simple solution, he just continued eating only lunch, and he stopped agreeing to meet up with people in public houses and other eating establishments. Raoul was a young man who believed a hot meal could get anything out of a suspect, or a witness. Javert started sending in someone else to accompany him. His stomach had recently started churning whenever he smelt food. The idea of standing in a public house, waiting for someone to cough up information made him nauseous.

He started heading into work early, trying to get there before the bakeries opened and the smell started to permeate the streets. He did not sleep well anyway, so his time was better spent here.
He knew he could not afford the time off anyway. He was the Law; the Law did not sleep, it did not stop for food breaks, or to wipe the tears from women's eyes. The Law was exact, and so Javert was too.

He kept things ordered, and he was strict about it. The mayor, however, threw a clog in these works, and kept trying to get him to spend more time at the factory. Monsieur Madeleine insisted on inviting him over for meals, to spend an evening with him.

Javert refused. It would not be proper, and he had not forgotten how the mayor had mocked him several months ago. Javert did not appear any more attractive than he had then. He had not really lost enough weight to be comfortable standing before the mayor.

He started sending Bernard to give the mayor the reports. The man had come back to work, but Javert did not want him doing anything strenuous. It was an added bonus that Madeleine did not have to see him now. It hurt to consider but the mayor probably preferred it this way anyway.