Chapter Text
Monsieur Enjolras left a paper on the table making noise on purpose to catch the attention of his wife, Camille, who was sitting on the couch near the table, sewing, as she did whenever she felt anxious, which was constantly those last months. She looked up to ask her husband for an explanation.
“Your son” -he said, his voice severe as he left.
Auguste was not an easy man. Even less now that he was at home. He avoided going outside since people would ask him questions and he had to lie. They had told everyone who asked that they didn’t know anything about their son since December of the prior year, the last time he came to visit. They couldn’t let anyone know about U. Fauchelevent’s letter. They couldn’t let anyone know that their son was at a stranger's house recovering. It was enough shame that people knew Lucien Enjolras had tried to overthrow the monarchy, what would people think about their family now? Some of their most influential friends had given them the silent treatment, if the high society rejected them, it would be their son’s fault.
Camille sighed and took the paper carefully. It was a wanted poster with a drawing that was supposed to represent Lucien, she felt her breath stop for a moment. She went to find her husband with a sinking heart.
She found him at the drawing room, smoking a cigar by the window.
“What is this?” -she asked.
Auguste dedicated her a look.
“Are you blind?” -he said as he turned towards the window again.
“Why do they know his name?” -she said as if he knew the answer- “And why is this in Provence? He is in Paris, why are they searching for him here?”
“They aren’t” -he said- “That pamphlet is all over the country, in the newspapers. Now everyone know that your son is a dammed anarchist”
“He is not an anar-”
“Your son will be the ruin of this family!” -he cutted her off.
“Stop saying ‘your son’, whether you like it or not, he has your blood too!”
Monsieur Enjolras didn’t reply for a while, instead, he took a long drag on his cigar.
“This whole revolutionary thing in him comes from your family, my sister was right, I was marrying a jacobin” -he said after a moment of silence. On that he was right, Camille's father had been a jacobin at the Revolution. A jacobin! They were just children then, but the memories of those times had left a deep mark on their generation. Surely Lucien was the grandson of his grandfather, of that there was no doubt- “Maybe it would have been better for us that he had been a stillborn, as that girl you gave birth to after him. If it took us so much effort to have a child, maybe it was because God didn’t want us to have one, and look how He is punishing us now”
Camille felt her heart sink, hurt. It wasn’t a surprise that her husband was using the hardest event of her life to make her feel bad, he was blaming her and her side of the family for their son’s ideology. He was terrible.
“You don’t know what you are saying” -she said, but she knew that Auguste was totally aware of the impact of words he said. After a moment, she added:- “What are we going to do if the police come here?”
“Tell them the same we have told everyone: that we don’t know anything of Lucien since December” -he said- “If they execute him” -he stopped, a sob coming from Camille- “If they execute him we won’t have anything to do with it and we will move on, and if for a miracle they don’t, we’ll think of something. We can’t go to Paris right now anyways, it would be too suspicious”
Even if he hated it, the future of his bloodline depended on his only son.
Enjolras woke up to an excruciating pain on his leg, the one that was missing. He could swear he could feel it as if it was still there, as if someone was chopping it into pieces. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks, crying. Enjolras managed to turn his head and look outside the window from his bed: it was raining. That weather always meant bad news for anyone with scars or injuries, that meant it would be a really bad day of phantom pain. He closed his eyes, wishing to fall asleep again, but it was impossible. He tried to take deep breaths to help the pain.
He felt someone knock at the door and his blue eyes flew open again. It was Grantaire. Enjolras wiped his tears away from his face, embarrassed to let his friend find him crying. But it was useless, his eyes were already red.
Grantaire looked alarmed.
“Should I call Valjean?” -he asked as he was about to abandon the room again.
“No” -Enjolras muttered through the unbearable pain- “Stay”
The dark haired man hesitated for a moment, not sure if he would be of much help for his friend, but he sat by his bedside, with a concerned look.
“What’s wrong?”
Enjolras didn’t reply immediately, his hands on the stump of his leg.
“The rain… it…” -words came out of him with difficulty- “my leg… hurts”
Grantaire felt his heart sink, he wasn’t sure what to do. He should call Valjean, or Cosette, or the doctor, even if Enjolras didn’t want to. Anyone would handle this situation better than him.
“...Laudanum?” -he offered, knowing that his friend wouldn’t take it. But to Grantaire’s surprise, Enjolras nodded. Grantaire went for the bottle and the spoon that were in the drawer of the nightstand. He gave a dose of it to Enjolras and the man fell against the pillow, wishing for the medicine to act quickly.
Enjolras felt horrible, he hadn’t felt this kind of pain since the first days after waking up after the barricades. He thought he was getting better, but at that moment he didn’t even feel able to get himself out of bed.
Was it always going to be like that? He was really trying to be strong and not show this weakness, but Lord, it was so hard to hide this. He had his eyes closed, he didn’t want to open them and find Grantaire looking at him with pity. He didn’t want to be pitied, that would destroy him. He didn’t notice he was crying until he felt the warm touch of Grantaire’s hand wiping away his tears.
“I don’t want your pity” -he muttered.
“I don’t pity you” -Grantaire didn’t know what he expected Enjolras to say, but it surely wasn’t that.
“You sure?” -his voice was starting to sound slower because of the laudanum.
“I’m sure”
Enjolras opened his eyes then and looked at Grantaire’s.
“Then why...?” -His voice broke as if he was going to start crying again. Grantaire cutted off the rest of his sentence.
“Because I love you”
Javert had come to the house later that day to see how they were doing after what had happened the day before, with Cosette having a breakdown and Valjean and Marius arguing between them. It wasn’t really of his concern, that was a matter of the family and only the family, and he wasn’t part of that family. If the problem was Thénardier, there was nothing he could do about it, he was no longer part of the police, he couldn’t arrest him.
But the girl seemed to be in a really better mood now than the day before. As if nothing had happened. That couldn’t be a good sign, but Javert hadn’t ever been good at guessing other people’s sentiments, so he couldn’t really tell.
“Are you staying for dinner?” -Cosette asked as he left his coat and his hat on the rack.
“Just if it doesn’t start raining again” -he said, observing the clouds through the window- “Is your father here?”
As an answer to that, Valjean appeared at the door of the living room, greeting him with the head.
“Cosette, my dear, would you leave us alone?” -he said gently.
The girl nodded and left the room.
“How is she?” -Javert asked, the words sounded weird in his voice. He wasn’t used to asking those kinds of things.
“Surprisingly well after yesterday’s shook” -Valjean answered- “She’s a really strong young woman”
“Like father like daughter”
“She’s not really my daughter, you know that”
Javert rolled his eyes.
“And your son-in-law?”
“He’s not yet…” -Valjean sighed- “What’s with him?”
“Have you two made amends?”
“Why have you come here?” -Valjean was hurt, he didn’t want to talk about that. He didn’t hate Marius, he knew he was a good boy who loved Cosette and wanted the best for her, but he still felt as if he was going to take her away from him, and he didn’t want that to happen. Even after the conversation he had with Grantaire and Enjolras, he couldn’t help but feel that way.
“Just to check that you are all alright” -Javert said, shrugging his arms.
“Well, you see we are” -he answered sharply, but he regretted it- “Sorry, sorry you had a good intention, I didn’t mean to be this ungrateful”
“It’s alright”
“Sit down, please” -he said, indicating the couch- “Coffee?”
“That would be nice”
Valjean disappeared into the kitchen and left Javert sitting there. But he wasn’t alone for long, after a couple of minutes, Grantaire appeared there with some pastries on a plate. He sat there on the couch beside the one where Javert was sitting, and eated them without paying much attention to the ex-inspector. Javert gave him a look, he seemed tired.
“Good afternoon” -he said.
Grantaire turned to look at him, surprised.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there”
“You look tired” -Javert pointed.
Grantaire yawned.
“Yeah… I didn’t really sleep well” -That night he had slept for no more than three hours. He had grown used to sleeping beside Enjolras those past months, but now they would have to stay in separate rooms. He went down the stairs to check if Enjolras was still there a few times during the night. He didn’t like waking up alone.
Cosette joined them bringing things to eat before dinner. They were waiting for Marius to arrive to eat all of them together. He had gone with his grandfather and had stayed there all day. Valjean came back with the coffee for Javert.
“Isn’t Enjolras going to join us tonight?” -he asked Grantaire, seeing that -with the exception of Marius- the blond man was the only one who wasn’t there yet.
“Oh, he said he wouldn’t, he’s…” -he lowered his voice, remembering that Enjolras’ bedroom was on the first floor and he could hear them if they spoke too loud- “He’s having a bad day, you know, with the rain and the physical effort from these past days”
Cosette gave him a extrange look.
“I went to see him earlier and he said he was alright, he seemed tired but nothing too bad. You saw him too, right papa?”
Valjean nodded, concerned.
“Well, he isn’t alright. I gave him a dose of laudanum earlier, that’s why he isn’t in much pain now. But he can’t even stand up with his crutches as he has been doing this past days”
“Poor boy” -Valjean muttered.
They fell silent after that for a moment before Javert spoke.
“You are all brutes”
“Wha-”
“How long has he been like that? Two months? Three? Of course he’s going to have days in which the pain is unbearable. He’s going to have them for the rest of his life”
“We don’t know that yet-”
“Of course we know. But if he stays in bed everytime that happens, he’s going to drown”
They all looked at Javert in disbelief, they weren’t expecting those words to come out of his mouth.
“And what do you suggest to do?” -Valjean asked.
“I don’t know, a wheelchair? Maybe? Just for when he can't bare the crutches”
“I think I saw an old one in the attic”
“He won’t like that idea” -Grantaire said.
“I’m going to make him change his mind”
Javert stood up leaving behind him three incredulous faces, they knew he was getting better but this was different.
He found Enjolras lying in his bed, as it was to be expected. He opened his eyes when he felt Javert at the door.
“What’s the matter?” -Javert asked abrutly.
“What?”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m fine”
“Alright, then join us on the living room”
Enjolras sighed.
“I don’t feel like going out of bed, would you excuse me to the others?”
“Of course, but are you sure you are alright?”
“Yes, just a little bit tired”
“The devil!” -Javert’s change of tone surprised Enjolras, the older man seemed even angry- “You were shot, how many times? Four? And you had a leg amputated! Valjean said you weren’t breathing when he found you. You almost died!”
“Thank you for the reminder” -replied Enjolras with something that seemed like irony in his voice.
“That’s how it is, you are going to be a cripple for the rest of your life. And you will have to go through a lot of pain. No, listen to me” -Enjolras had closed his eyes trying to go back to sleep and ignore Javert- “What are you going to do? Are you going to spend the rest of your days in a circle of self loathing. You are going to spend the day in bed every time your pain becomes stronger? You can’t do that forever, Enjolras. That will kill you someday”
“Since when do you care about me?”
“There’s a wheelchair you can use, if you can’t stand up”
It was still summer, the worst was still to come, with the winter and the rainy and cold days his pain would be much worse than this. What would he do then? Enjolras refused to look at Javert, he was upset with him. Instead he had his blue eyes fixed on the half open door. He remembered Grantaire’s desperate face from that morning when he found him like that, he had scared him off. He made a decision, it wasn’t for him, it was for Grantaire. Because he loved him too, and he wanted him to know that. He would try to be strong and go out of bed for the first time in the day. And he would be proud of it, because even little achievements counted and he would have to accept that he would always have hard days.
“Do you think you could help me get into that wheelchair?”