A New Path
Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.
Feuilly opened his door about ten minutes after the pounding on it began. He wasn't sure what time it was but he did know that it was the dead of the night and he had been getting some much-needed sleep. When the pounding began, his dreams had turned to cannon-fire and, after he awoke, it took him a moment to remember where he was and realize that he was not under attack.
A few more minutes and he realized that, whoever it was, they were probably not going to go away. Were they trying to break the door down? The noise could attract the kind of attention a thief or a murderer might not want but if they kept at it the door might give way anyway.
And so Feuilly dragged himself out of bed to face whoever this was. Unless it was Enjolras or one of the others telling them that a revolution had unexpectedly broken out or that someone had gotten arrested since they had parted a few hours ago, he was probably going to hit them.
It took him a moment to recognize the young man in front of him because he was not the sort of person that Feuilly generally associated with. He was a handsome man glossy black hair, full lips, and bright eyes though this brightness was dimmed somewhat by some secret worry. He was wearing the clothes of a bourgeoisie and at first he thought it was one of them but what reason had a bourgeoisie to be at his door? His friends might have – to their chagrin – possessed bourgeoisie connections but he was a simple fan-maker.
And then it clicked.
"Montparnasse," he breathed, so stunned that he quite forgot to hit the other man like he had resolved to. When was the last time he had even seen him? Here and there on the streets, sometimes, but it had been three or four years since they had last actually spoken. They had once been friends but when one gamin resolves to become an honest man and the other decides he wants to just be pretty and do nothing then paths tend to diverge. "What are you doing here?"
Montparnasse looked like he wasn't sure how to answer that and instead cleared his throat. "Can I come in? It's cold out here."
It wasn't, actually, but Feuilly reluctantly nodded and led the way to his main room and the two sat around his table.
"I would offer you something but you woke me up," Feuilly declared. "And, given the hour, I trust you won't be staying long."
"I'm sorry to come at such a time but I just…something strange has happened and I've been trying to make sense of it and I couldn't. I kept thinking of you and I never do that but I thought I'd come here and see if you could help," Montparnasse just about rambled. He still looked as picturesque as he ever did but it was clear that he was seriously discomposed.
That piqued his interest but it didn't stop him from grumbling, "I'd be much more help in the light of day."
"I couldn't wait," Montparnasse said, completely indifferent to the needs of anyone else as always.
"What is it?" Feuilly demanded.
"I know that we had parted ways long ago because of some…basic philosophical difference," Montparnasse said delicately.
Feuilly barked out a laugh. "That's one way of putting it. I'd probably say, you lost your mind and decided to be a member of Patron-Minette while I got a real job."
"I will have you know that I have greatly enjoyed the sort of privilege I get from being a part of that," Montparnasse said stiffly.
"Then why are you here?" Feuilly demanded. "You know I will have nothing to do with those criminals and if you are one of them then that includes you. I think we said all we had to say on the matter a long time ago."
Montparnasse nodded. "And I thought we had to but there was this man…"
Feuilly sat up straighter alarm. "A man? Did you…did you kill somebody?"
It took him a moment to realize what was being asked and then he started laughing. "Oh, no, nothing so dreary. That wouldn't bother me."
Feuilly tried not to think about what that implied but he had seen too much of the world not to understand immediately. "Then what is it?"
"I was going for a walk tonight looking for somebody to rob," Montparnasse began casually and it astounded Feuilly that a guest in his home – however reluctantly – could so easily speak of such things. "I found an old man who looked like he would be easy prey. He was dressed like a workman so I didn't expect he would have much but something was better than nothing and it was only going to take a minute."
"I can't believe that I'm going to offer you advice on this but…" Feuilly shook his head. "If you must go out robbing people, can't you rob from those a little better off than this poor man? They could afford it better and you'd get more out of it."
"And they also have a better chance in interesting the police in the matter," Montparnasse countered. "But yes, sometimes I do go after them. I am an equal-opportunity thief, after all."
Feuilly sighed. "So what happened with the man?"
"He…might have…Oh, this is rather embarrassing," Montparnasse said, coloring.
Feuilly raised an eyebrow. "What, did he manage to get the better of you or something?"
Montparnasse made it a point not to look at him.
"Oh he did, did he?" Feuilly asked rhetorically, much surprised. "And the fact that an old man got the better of you in a scuffle has sent you to my door? I can only advise you to be more careful in the future and perhaps brush up on your fighting skills."
He would have offered his own services (or, more to the point, those of his friends) if the whole reason Montparnasse wished to fight was to better be able to rob from innocent and hardworking citizens.
"It's not that," Montparnasse bit out. "He just…while I was…while we were there he gave me the strangest lecture that I've ever gotten."
Feuilly burst out laughing. "So you tried to rob this man, this old man, and he not only gets the better of you but then lectures you about how stealing is wrong?"
"That was the gist of it," Montparnasse agreed. "I can't say that I understood most of it, though."
"What do you mean?" Feuilly asked him.
Montparnasse shrugged. "He was going on for awhile. I swear, I have never been so ranted at! He was talking about stealing and then he said something about crawling up a chimney and then something about boxes and locksmiths and…I don't even know. But I think he was still talking about the stealing. And if he wasn't, well, the stealing was the important point."
Feuilly's eyes widened. "Are you…trying to tell me that someone gave you a stern talking-to about not stealing from people, and presumably not attacking or killing them, and you're actually taking it under consideration?"
"He made some very compelling points," Montparnasse replied.
"Such as?" Feuilly asked, trying not to feel offended. When Montparnasse had told him that he was going to join Patron-Minette in the first place, he had made some damn compelling points and yet none of it had been enough.
Montparnasse nodded, looking lost. "Yes, he did."
That hadn't been what Feuilly had asked so clearly the other man wasn't listening. He lightly kicked him under the table. "Such as?"
Montparnasse started. "Well, he said that I'll have a harder life by being a thief than by being an honest man. He seemed to take it for granted that I'd be arrested someday and all of society would reject me so being a thief because I don't want to work hard is rather counterproductive."
Feuilly nodded. "Haven't you ever seen one of those convict processions or read about the conditions in the galleys?"
Montparnasse gives him a look and instantly Feuilly knows that it was a stupid question. Montparnasse may be literate but that was just because he wanted to complete the illusion. Feuilly had spent countless hours learning how to read all on his own with little help to be found and then Montparnasse had charmed him into teaching him as well. To Feuilly's knowledge, the most he ever did with his literacy was pass notes to other members of Patron-Minette about crimes.
And the two of them had once seen a procession of convicts together and both pretended that they had not been terrified.
"So is that it?" Feuilly couldn't believe it. "Somebody pointed out that by being a criminal you risk going to the galleys and going to the galleys would be terrible?"
Montparnasse shook his head. "No, that wasn't it. I've never been caught before and I don't intend to be caught in the future. And even if I am, being caught is only a problem if you're on your own. When you're Patron-Minette, there's always a plan to get you out. I know a man who has broken out of prison five times now. That's five successful break-outs after five different arrests and trials, not being recaptured after his attempts."
Feuilly was pretty sure he was supposed to be impressed but all he could do was wonder why on Earth a man wouldn't have had the sense to stop committing crimes if he was getting arrested so often? No matter how old the man was or how long he had been doing this, five times seemed a little excessive.
"Well if you don't believe you'll be caught and don't think that you will spend much time in prison if you are, what is the problem?" Feuilly asked reasonably.
"It's just," Montparnasse ran a hand through his silky hair, "something that I had never considered before and now realize that I probably should have."
"Don't keep me in suspense, it is still far too early," Feuilly growled.
"This man, who seemed to have a rather extensive knowledge on the subject, pointed out to me that if I went to prison, even for just a few days, my head would be shorn. He said that I would enter young and beautiful and leave an ugly old man. Obviously I would not spend decades in there like he implied but my hair would take months to grow back! And it might never be the same! And I'm sure that they don't take great care with the convicts' hair! I would probably have to shave myself completely bald when I got out to improve the effect and I just…I can't have people see me like that, Feuilly. I just can't!" He sounded really desperate.
Feuilly stared at him to make sure that he really had this right. "You are legitimately telling me that you want to turn your life around because they'll give you a haircut in prison?"
"Oh, you trivialize everything!" Montparnasse complained. "I don't think you appreciate just how important my looks are to me."
Feuilly remembered those long waits he had whenever he and Montparnasse had gone anywhere because the other man had had to make sure that he looked perfect. "I think I do."
"And who knows what else might happen?" Montparnasse demanded. "Maybe my skin would develop blotches or my eyes would lose their brightness! Maybe my lips would fade or my teeth would color! Beauty like mine takes maintenance and they would not care for such things in prison. They would laugh at me and I would have to make sure that they did not do it again and then I might get beaten. Can you imagine, Feuilly? Me? Beaten? I cannot accumulate scars. Scars are hideous and prison would ruin me."
There was a rumor about men as beautiful as Montparnasse once they entered prison but Feuilly did not want to spend an hour listening to him going on about that.
Montparnasse seemed to be waiting for him to say something.
"Yes, I think it's safe to say that if you go to prison you will be far worse-looking once you come out," Feuilly told him bluntly.
Montparnasse's face crumpled. "Oh, I knew it! I would be ruined. I would have nothing to live for. Feuilly, you have to help me!"
"I don't see what you think I can do," Feuilly said doubtfully. "You're not under arrest now and if you become so in the future it will be your own poor life choices that lead to it."
Montparnasse nodded. "I know and that's why I have to change. You have to help me, Feuilly, because I know very little about such things, having always found them terribly dull. You must help me become an honest man!"
Feuilly used to dream of this moment, back before he had given up hope for his childhood friend, this moment where Montparnasse would finally see sense and agree to live like a normal non-crazy person. After all the screaming and fights and even blows, he had thought that that door had been closed forever. And now suddenly it looked like things might work out after all. Only because Montparnasse was obsessed with his looks but, well, that was Montparnasse.
"Who was that man?" Feuilly murmured, awe-struck.
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