Chapter Text
Javert’s life, was, in a word, consistent. Never better nor worse, he slaved his days away in a factory and returned to a little place that he could barely call his own. He had none that he would issue friend and no one else would keep him as one. He was, needless to say, begrudgingly tolerated by his fellow workers. Javert didn’t tolerate any of them slacking off and felt bound to report such things no matter how small. He would not allow others to be paid exactly the same as him without the exact same amount of effort.
This, of course, lead to the other workers avoiding him as best they could, but their sneaking around grated on all of them and soon enough they were itching to find a reason or rhyme to have Javert booted.
So began their examination, trying and searching every inch of Javert as he did them, for some fault to force him out. It was a hard task, for Javert was a hard faced fellow who rarely bore a smile and did as was asked, no matter the task. He was, in all respects, a perfect worker.
But, occasionally, the mayor would pass by to check on the factory, as he did all the factories and businesses throughout the town. It was then that they took notice. It was slight, very slight, but, having watched Javert for as long as they had, it was noted. Javert gave smiles for the mayor if spoken too and in general lightened up in his presence. Whenever he appeared Javert seemed uncharacteristically happy.
They were all lowly factory workers, so it was not as if Javert could have known the mayor personally. And Javert never showed such (For it was a lot, from him) emotion for anyone else, and seemed to bear no interest in woman. Here, this detail was more than noted, and the workers plotted against Javert.
Javert was booted not soon after. It had taken a lot of hollering and pointed fingers, but the other workers had been able to convince the foreman that Javert enjoyed the company of other men and that he was and had been trying to seduce the rest of them into giving him their own hard earned money. The last detail was a lie, but they all believed without an accusation that the foreman may have let it slide in consideration to Javert’s work habit. It was them being safe was all.
Work was full up. And even if it wasn’t the factory fellows that Javert had worked with were peeved enough to spread their rumor like wildfire; if he attempted to apply someplace else, those workers were more than likely to testify against him. He was out of a job, and in relation, out of a home. Javert had growled and fought against the other workers who, after a large effort (Javert had punched out at least three), had gotten Javert out in the mud and had slammed the door in his face.
He picked himself up, wiping off as much clumped mud as he could, and, with what dignity he had left, squared his shoulders and walked fast back to his residence to collect his things. He wouldn’t have the place by sundown.
Javert didn’t have much to his name. Necessities, and not a lot, even of that. He collected his clothes and a few other miscellaneous items in a small bag and left. In town he’d more than likely be kicked for loitering and so, he turned to the outskirts of town. Which was a mistake, by far.
In less than an afternoon he’d been reduced of both dignity and self-respect and had had his face shoved into the mud twice, once by his factory employer, and another, by an anonymous man who’d thrown coins at his feet once he’d finished with him.
Javert couldn’t, at all, fathom how this all could have gone so wrong, so quickly. Instead he curled up on himself, and laid his head on his bag to sleep.
The next week he’d not only sold his body, but the shiny buttons dressing his clothes, and his boots, reducing him to more worn footwear. Something new had cropped up on him as well, violent coughing fits. He was ill, surely from the grime of the place he had to grovel. That week was especially grueling, for the men who partook in him did not appreciate him being noisy, but the coughing was strong and stuck devilishly to his lungs and shook him. No, they did not appreciate that.
Javert did not, ‘promote’, himself as the others did, as he did not want to lose the rest of himself in giving into the occupation, no matter how grim the situation, no matter the fact that he was technically another man’s property now and was sold numerously. He sat at the corner that merged the disgusting underworld with the actual paved streets. Those who knew why and wanted him took him, and those who didn’t couldn’t kick him as he was technically on the other side.
He sighed at the sound of stopped boots at his side, but the intake caused him a series of fits. He tasted iron.
Whomever it was at his side stooped lighting fast to cradle Javert, taking the shock of his shuttering from him. Javert did not look up and instead went limp, waiting for the man to do as he pleased.
He gasped in surprise when he was lifted up with ease and held like a child between the man’s arms. Now he looked up and his expression widened, his face flushed from the embarrassment and shame that came from being seen as he was by none other than the mayor himself.
But the mayor did not look on him with disdain. His eyes were sad.
“I’ve seen you before.” He started, his brows creasing downward. “You worked at one of my factories. Monsieur, how is it you’ve come to lay in the streets?”
Javert could not stand to answer him and he lifted a hand over his face. Madeleine merely nodded, adjusted Javert between his arms, and turned about.
“ ‘Ey you! That’s my man, he is. You want him, you’ll pay for him.”
Madeleine looked back over his shoulder, a dark look in his eye that made the other man take a step back and fold his arms to his chest. Madeleine snorted, but threw some money at his feet all the same. He did not want to fight this night, especially when Javert needed a doctor. With that he took long strong strides to the hospital.
Once there, Javert near immediately fell into slumber, an actual mattress and pillow at his back in a warm dry building.
“What is your name?” Madeleine asked low and sweet. Javert turned his head and blinked at him.
“…..Javert, Monsieur le Maire.” Madeleine’s lips twisted up in something of an amused grin at the use of his title.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Javert, I am Madeleine.”
This was the last thing Javert heard and Madeleine was his last sight before he fell into comfortable slumber with a contented sigh.