Disclaimer: Les Mis and its characters belongs to Victor Hugo.
The next day was Saturday, which Enjolras found out when the pretty nurse arrived in the morning and brought him porridge and watery coffee along with the day's Libération. She smiles shyly at him and yanks the curtains open, sunlight streaming through the room. "Bon matin, Enjolras. How are you feeling today?"
"Very well, thank you, Adele." He smiled. He had learnt her name yesterday, and he enjoyed the way it made her flush under her pretty freckles, hearing him say it. He supposed her presence, and her obvious good looks, should excite him more than they did.
A couple of hours passed, in which Enjolras read about the sorry state of modern-day Paris, and listened to music on the crackly radio beside the bed. He ran the red scarf idly through his fingers, admired the flowers in the window, and even stood up to take a few experimental steps. He was just settling himself back under the sheets when the door burst open, and Sylvie rushed in.
"Enjolras, how are you?" She greeted him enthusiastically. "I brought you something."
Enjolras could have kissed her as she handed over the polystyrene coffee cup and the paper bag bearing the trademark stripes of his favourite bakery. Inside, a pain au raisin, and a perfectly creamy latte in the cup.
"I've been dreaming about good food. I genuinely cannot thank you enough." Enjolras said in all seriousness, reaching forward to kiss her cheek. She pulled up a chair right next to his bed, and busied herself flicking through the first few pages of Libération. "Jehan's just coming," She said idly, her eyes glancing over the pages of the newspaper. "I have a lunch date in an hour, but Jean Prouvaire is going to stay with you for a bit. Talk about your friends, that kind of thing."
"Have you contacted any of them? I would very much like to see Combeferre; Courfeyrac-"
His sister visibly stiffened. "I only had contact details for Marius. I asked him to inform the others. Jean has been too busy at work to do so."
Enjolras sighed. Like Marius was going to remember to contact all of their friends and let them know Enjolras was awake. He probably couldn't even remember how many children he had.
The door opened again and Jehan rushed in. Enjolras found himself beaming at the sight. Jehan brought with him a breath of fresh air, a glimpse of his old life. It was the only thing keeping him going through the bleak period in the hospital- the idea that he could, at the end of it all, return to his old life.
Though it wouldn't be exactly the same. His papa was gone now. He had been forcing himself not to dwell on it, but when he began to think of it, it was hard to forget. He tried to inject happiness into his voice when he replied to Jehan's 'Bonjour!', though he feared it wasn't quite subtle enough.
"How do you feel? Have you walked around at all yet?"
"Yeah, I actually got out of bed and had a shower yesterday. I didn't realise I was meant to be on specific bed rest. The nurse got a little antsy with me."
"Enjolras!" Sylvie reprimanded him, while Jehan laughed. "You shouldn't be impeding your recovery."
"I'm not!" Enjolras said defensively. "I was seriously dirty, and my hair was a mess. You could have plaited it, Jehan, I'm serious. I had to hack it off with the nail scissors."
Jehan's eyes widened. "You cut your hair with nail scissors? You, mr 'finest-salon-in-town-only'? This coma has changed you."
"Five years does a lot to a man." Enjolras began seriously. "Especially when you sleep through it all."
Jehan laughed again, and Sylvie smiled before flicking her gaze to the watch on her wrist. "I've got to get going if I'm going to make it to the restaurant in time- it's about three metro changes from here." She told the room at large, rolling her eyes. "I'll come by after work on Monday, okay? Hopefully they'll be talking about releasing you by then." She leant over and kissed him on the cheek, gathering her bags. "See you later," She added to Jehan, and then, to Enjolras' surprise, kissed him full on the mouth.
Jehan wasn't surprised by Sylvie's erratic behaviour, and reciprocated gently before smiling at her and watching her leave. Enjolras gave his friend a meaningful stare, eyebrows raised high up his forehead.
"Oh, my god, you don't know." Realisation dawned on Jehan like a tonne of bricks. "Your sister and I, have, er- for nearly six months now-"
"Courfeyrac?" Enjolras stuttered.
"Oh, lord, Enjolras- we broke up over a year ago."
"What?!" It was impossible to comprehend. He had never, in his life, seen a couple better suited than Jehan and Courf. He had never seen two people act so ridiculously, sickeningly in love before either. Understandably, it was difficult for him to get his head around the idea that such a love could be broken. "He must be absolutely torn up, jesus, Jehan, he was besotted with you."
Jehan's discomfort was visible. "It was a mutual decision- it just, really wasn't working anymore. I know I owe you an explanation, Enjolras, but I really don't like to talk about it."
"Look. Not now, not here, I get it. Some other time, you'll have to tell me what went down, because I can't believe for a second that there's anything powerful enough to break up you guys- at least, the way you acted before I had my accident, that is. For now, I really need to talk to Courf. Does he even know I'm awake?"
Jehan was standing up now, and pacing anxiously. He peered out of the window uncomfortably, idly fiddling with the buttons on his jacket.
"Erm… I don't really know how to say this…."
"Jehan."
"Courfeyrac, is, er, in Australia."
"What do you mean, Courfeyrac's in Australia?"
"Exactly how it sounds," Jehan replied awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.
"How long?"
"Three months or so. It was a really good job offer."
"He just left me?"
"In all fairness, Enjolras, you had been asleep for four years and nine months."
Enjolras glared at him. "Not now, Jean Prouvaire." He said, mocking his sister's name for Jehan. "My best friend is thousands of miles away. He doesn't even know that I'm no longer unconscious for an indefinite period. Do you have Courfeyrac's number?"
Jehan's eyes widened, and he blushed slightly. "Yes- but, I haven't used it for a long time- it might not be right-"
"Let me borrow your phone." Enjolras replied firmly.
"No! You can't call Courfeyrac on my phone!" Jehan said, clutching his pocket protectively.
"Give it to me," Enjolras said warningly, eyes narrowed. "Jehan."
"You can't make me!"
"Surely there is some unspoken rule that you give your hospitalised and bedridden best friend anything they want?" Enjolras countered, eyebrows raised.
Jehan stared guiltily at Enjolras for a few moments.
"Please," Enjolras continued, voice softening. "I just want to talk to him. He's my best friend. He doesn't even know I'm alive."
Jehan rolled his eyes, but handed his phone over anyway. "I'm going to get coffee. You're paying for the long distance call," He added warningly, and closed the ward door behind him.
Enjolras located Courfeyrac's number immediately and pressed dial. It would be about midnight over in Australia- he just hoped Courf would have his phone on loud. Or he might still be awake. Or, that it was his number at all.
It rang for a long time, Enjolras fiddling with the duvet anxiously in his other hand. He was about to pull it away from his ear and hang up when the ringing stopped and a groggy voice answered.
"Jehan?! Jehan, it's Courf, why are you calling? Is everything alright? Are you okay?" Courfeyrac went from 'woken-from-sleep' mode to 'excitable-the-love-of-my-life-needs-me' mode in the course of a sentence, and it pained Enjolras to hear it. He hoped his friend wouldn't be too disappointed to hear it wasn't Jehan at all.
"Courfeyrac, it's not Jehan. It's me, Enjolras."
The end of the line silenced for a few moments, Courfeyrac's unsteady breathing heavy in Enjolras' ear.
"I'm asleep, aren't I." Courfeyrac said glumly. "I need to stop taking those pills before bed, they give me totally wackjob dreams-"
"Courf, this isn't a dream, I'm serious, it's me. I woke up a few days ago. I'm- well, I'm back."
"Enjolras? For real?"
"For real."
"OH MY GOD!" Courfeyrac squealed. "You're awake! For a few days, too! Why didn't any of the fuckers think to tell me? You know, you go to Australia, you suddenly feel so out of the loop…" Enjolras chuckled lightly.
"I don't think any of the others know. My sister could only get hold of Marius, and he's probably lost his phone or something."
Courfeyrac laughed. There were a few moments of comfortable silence, and Enjolras could feel Courfeyrac's pure elation almost down the line. He had never felt so loved in his life- to see his friend so moved by his mere voice, his simple presence.
"I can't believe it," Courfeyrac breathed again.
"Come back to Paris. Come and see me," Enjolras begged his friend. "I need to see you, Courf."
There was a minute's silence. "Enjolras, I- I can't." He said finally, on a sigh.
Enjolras frowned. "What do you mean, you can't? Come back! It's not like you even wanted to go in the first place- it was just a way of escaping Jehan, right?"
"No, I really did want to come. It's a great job offer. Although," The smile in Courf's voice was visible in his mind's eye. "There is no intersection between 'gay men' and 'attractive men' over here in Australia. There is no crossing over Venn diagram. Just two very lonely, very separate circles of people. Well, except for me, of course. I'm the only man in this whole fucking land mass who fits in both categories."
Enjolras laughed. "I'm not going to get on at you now, Jehan will kill me for the money this will cost. Sorry if I excited you at the prospect of Jehan calling-"
"Are you kidding, Enjolras? This is more than I could ever hope for."
Enjolras blinked back the tears threatening his eyes as he beamed. "Look, I'm not going to talk about Jehan right now, or try and persuade you to return. But expect a call the moment I get a phone, and your number. Expect a lot of calls."
Courfeyrac laughed. "That I shall, mon ami."
"Goodbye, Courfeyrac."
"Au revoir, Enjolras."
Jehan left not long after that, mumbling irritably to himself about long-distance calls and their cost. Enjolras suspected that half of Jehan's bad temper had come from all the talk and mention of Courfeyrac, and decided to just leave his friend be, so with another (and relatively insincere) promise to pay the phone bill, Enjolras bid him farewell.
It was these times that were the worst. With no-one to talk to, the bed suddenly became far more restricting than it felt when there were loved ones on either side of it. He was allowed to walk around his room now, but he was not allowed to be on his feet for over thirty minutes at a time, and nothing too strenuous was allowed. He whiled the hours away pacing in front of his window, watching the city go by beneath him and listening to the radio droning on in the background. When his legs began to ache, he would lie back in bed for a while, reading or watching the television. He wished he had his laptop with him- so he could work on speeches and the articles he submitted for the newspaper sometimes, all about his cause. His laptop was probably outdated now- he wondered where it was; it had a lot of work on it.
He was just planning to call for the nurse and ask to get his sister on the phone so he could demand the location of his laptop, when the woman herself arrived in the room. Today she had carefully french braided her hair, and the long thin braid hung prettily down her back, with some loose strands falling in her eyes.
"Afternoon, Enjolras," She said sweetly, replacing his water jug and handing him his 'afternoon tea' tray. The hospital meals generally consisted of four trays a day, unless you requested extra. The morning meal was either a soggy croissant or watery porridge, with strong black coffee. Lunch was your choice of sandwich or a sad-looking hot meal usually consisting of something mushy served with peas. More often than not, it was the same as the previous day's dinner.
Around four, a tray was brought with a cup of coffee and a slice of plain spiced cake. It wasn't the best, but it had flavour and was a genuinely nice cake, so Enjolras found this went down easiest. It was satisfying enough that when his bleak dinner was brought at seven, he didn't feel too down or hard done by. He still patiently anticipated his sister's visits, however, or anyone who might bring him something else to eat. His mind was currently settled dreamily on the fresh-baked baguette sandwiches stuffed with brie and salad that had been the staple diet of his childhood vacations in Normandy.
"You have a visitor. He's just on his way up now; he had to fill out a couple of forms." She watered the irises carefully, plumped up his pillows and flittered about straightening the pile of magazines and newspapers on his bedside table.
"Who is-" Enjolras began, when someone rapped twice on the door of the private ward.
"Can I come in?" Asked a male voice, clear and melodic. Enjolras felt recognition rush through him, filling his whole body with warmth and an overwhelming affection. A grin spread involuntarily over his face, and the door opened.
"Combeferre!"