The smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the apartment, successful in its job of rising Grantaire from a deep sleep. His eyes opened and he blinked a few times to get used to the light that shone from the huge windows. Stretching his arms and groaning, he practically rolled off of his makeshift bed on the couch, the clothes which he wore as pyjamas wrinkled and starting to smell.
Once he stood, he saw the rest of Les Amis all gathered in the kitchen. Jehan and Courfeyrac were bustling around the stove and fridge, occupied with making breakfast for everyone. Combeferre was pouring over a book, as always, and Joly was sitting next to him, writing furiously in a notebook. Eponine walked over, handing a cup of coffee to Combeferre before sitting at the counter with her own cup of tea.
'Good morning, R.' Joly nodded towards him. Grantaire half-waved, pouring a cup of coffee for himself and placing a kiss on Eponine's forehead before sitting down next to her.
'Nice to see the sleeping beast has finally awoken.' Eponine quipped, looking at the mess of dark curls on Grantaire's head.
'Not everyone can be as gorgeous as you, Ponine. I do require my beauty sleep," He answered with a smile. 'What's going on today? After this marvellous breakfast of course." Jehan and Courfeyrac both expressed smiled, placing full plates in front of them.
'Were you not listening at all last night? We went over all the plans,' Jehan said.
'I was too preoccupied admiring the beauty that you all are graced with.' With a roll of her eyes and a smile, Eponine started explaining the plans for the day.
'You, Courfeyac and I are going to be going out later on a supply run. The medical supplies are running low, as are our food supplies. And we all agree that it high time you actually do something, 'Taire.' He shrugged, biting into his eggs. 'Joly is writing down a list of medical supplies we need now, and Jehan already wrote up what we need for food. We're leaving right after breakfast.'
'I suppose I should shower then. I can't go out smelling like a liquor store, now can I? It would give us a bad name.' Grantaire shovelled the last of his eggs in his mouth; leaving his plate on the table and leaving the others continue discussing the plans.
Approximately twenty minutes later, Grantaire walked back into the main room of the house, dressed and ready to go. Eponine and Courfeyac were going over last minute plans, making sure that they had enough money for the trip and determining their individual tasks. Grantaire sauntered up behind them, sliding his arms around their shoulders.
'Are we all set then?' He asked, slightly excited for his first job as a real member of Les Amis. The other two nodded. They said their goodbyes, Courfeyac and Jehan sharing a kiss - which prompted a whistle from Grantaire - and Eponine giving hugs to Joly, Combeferre and Enjolras.
'How about a kiss goodbye, Enj? What do you say?' Grantaire requested, opening his arms. Their leader rolled his eyes, giving a simple 'goodbye Grantaire' before turning back to his coffee. Pouting, Grantaire turned and walked away, wrapping his arm around Eponine's waist as they exited the building. They got into the car, Courfeyac behind the wheel and Eponine in the front seat. In the backseat, Grantaire put his headphones in and closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the seat for a moment.
'Wake up 'Taire. We're here.' Eponine shook his shoulder; the sleeping man jerked awake, giving the woman a dirty look for waking him so violently. 'You're in charge of getting the food. Here's $150 and a list of what we need; don't spend it all on beer.' She handed him a small notebook and an envelope. 'Be back here in an hour.' He nodded, playing his music once more as he walked into the grocery store. While he didn't have much experience with shopping - ramen noodles and take out had always been his foods of choice - all he had to do was follow the little blue book.
He walked through the store, finding everything that was on the list and putting the required amounts into his grocery cart. He pulled into the checkout, paying for all of the items and walking out with his bags in hand. As he walked towards their rendezvous point, the unmistakeable sounds of a fight travelled to his ears, along with Eponine's voice which trembled as if she was crying or near tears. Grantaire started running towards her voice, turning into an alley and dropping the bags as he saw what was happening.
At the end of the alley, Courfeyac was being punched and pushed around by a group of men while Eponine struggled from her place in between two of them. The attackers, who were all relatively bigger than Courfeyac, showed him no mercy as they kept pummelling into him. A sickening crack sounded when a fist connected with Courfeyac's nose, blood pouring out. Eponine tried to scream, but one of the men holding her placed their hand over her mouth.
'Ah ah ah, can't have you alerting anyone, now can we?' He said, pushing her up against the wall and moving dangerously close to her face. Your little group has caused a lot of problems for me and my friends here; you're getting involved in things that don't concern you, pretty lady. You complain about having to pay for college, but now we'll make you pay in a different way.' His hands travelled farther down, slipping underneath her shirt. A maniacal grin spread across his face, but was quickly changed as Grantaire's fist connected with his jaw, sending his head smashing into the concrete beneath their feet.
The rest of their attackers looked over, rage spurred by seeing their friend knocked unconscious. Two of them came at Grantaire, who stood his ground, eyes blazing as he stepped in front of Eponine. A fist came at his face, connecting with his cheekbone and stunning him for a second. The other one held him down, landing blow after blow on his face. His vision blurred red as blood continued to run into his eyes.
'I'm gonna scream!' He heard Eponine yell, her voice quivering again. The fists stopped flying at his face and Grantaire vaguely heard one of their attackers address her.
'Now don't be like that love. We ain't done nothing wrong; all we're doing is protecting our rights.' He took a step towards her, extending a hand. The second he moved in her direction, Eponine opened her mouth and let out a shrill scream. Their attackers retreated quickly, boots pounding on the pavement.
Grantaire rubbed his hands across his face in attempt to clear his vision of some of the blood. Shakily he tried to walk over to Eponine, who was curled over Courfeyac on the ground.
'He's breathing,' she told him, 'Unconscious, but breathing.' Relief flooded through Grantaire's system, though it quickly turned to worry as it registered how badly Eponine was shaking.
'Ponine, are you okay?' He stammered, putting her face in his hands. Warm tears fell from her cheeks, making trails through the blood.
'I'll live. Courf is who we should be worrying about. Can you drive?' She struggled to control her voice and her body.
'Shouldn't we take him to the hospital?'
'No; if anyone is ever hurt, we don't go to the hospital. We have Joly for that. Here, get him up.' Grantaire crouched down next to her, placing one arm behind Courfeyac's shoulders and the other underneath his knees. He hoisted the unconscious man up, struggling slightly but determined to make it at least to their car. Grantaire carried him out of the alleyway and towards their car, ignoring the gasps and looks of shock from people who were walking by. Eponine picked up the discarded shopping bags, ever practical in the chaos. Opening the door, Eponine got in the car before he laid Courfeyac across the seats, his head resting on her lap. As Eponine started singing quietly, ruffling her hands through the unconscious man's hair, Grantaire ran around the car and to the driver's side, starting the vehicle and following Eponine's instructions back to the apartment. Every time her voice cracked, his heart broke a little more.
The atmosphere in the apartment was relaxed. Enjolras had learned to relish these moments of quiet and relative solitude; they were certainly far and few between. With three of the louder inhabitants out for the day, he had decided to catch up on some reading for class. As a task, it required concentration – a concept many people seemed to underestimate. Settling into his favourite armchair, Enjolras opened his book and began to read. He poured over the sentences, the words rhythmic and soothing to his terribly overactive mind.
Thirty minutes later, he was pulled out of his thoughts by Joly. The other man seemed near hysterical, breathing deeply in an effort to control his own panic as he spoke down the phone. Enjolras closed his book, marking the page with a scrap of paper on a near-by table. As he rose from the chair, he began to pick up bits of the conversation.
'Okay, how long has he been out?'
'I need you to take a deep breath and tell me exactly. No, no everything's going –'
'Is Grantaire hurt? Are you -'
'Okay, okay. How far away are you?'
Oh. Someone was hurt. Enjolras stood to attention; quickly shaking his head, an attempt to clear the shock from his system. He couldn't afford to be out of action, he was needed. Enjolras twisted the sleeve of his shirt as he crossed his arms, too restless to stand still any longer. He silently hoped for the safety of his friends; it was clear one or more were injured but he didn't know the extent.
He watched as Joly ended the conversation, putting down the phone with a slightly uneven sigh. He turned to Enjolras, running a hand though his already wildly messy hair.
'They were jumped, Courf's unconscious. Eponine said she's fine but I highly doubt that. Grantaire was hit, but he's driving so I assume - '
'Where are they?' Enjolras interceded, half-way out the door as he called back.
'They'll be here in five; I need to get my supplies.'
'Go, I'll find everyone else.' Enjolras walked briskly through each room, gathering the remaining members of Les Amis in the sitting room in less than a minute. He was strangely proud; they were so used to chaos that they became almost orderly when subjected to it. This was useful if not a little disconcerting – it was a mark of experience.
As he explained, Enjolras observed Jehan closely. His relationship with Courf would make this even tougher on him, if that was truly possible. Despite this, the other man remained as calm as possible, taking out his apparent stress on the pillow he clutched to his chest. His knuckles were almost as white as his face, Enjolras noted. Combeferre placed a hand on his shoulder from his position behind the sofa, carefully masking any sense of panic he may be feeling. He'd always been good at that.
'Bahorel, Feuilly – go down and meet them. They might need help getting up the stairs.'
The two men solemnly nodded in agreement as they left the room. On his part, Enjolras was suddenly angered about the broken lift the apartment complex claimed to not have enough funding to fix. He frowned, running a hand through his hair as he continued assigning tasks.
'Combeferre, help Joly anyway you can. I'll join you both in a minute.'
Combeferre squeezed Jehan's shoulder before crossing the room to where Joly was stock-taking.
'Jehan, I don't know if -'
'No, I need to help. Give me something to do.'
'Come on, you can help make ice-packs.' Enjolras stretched an arm out to the other man, helping him out of his seat. Jehan's floral shirt and light denim jeans seemed to deeply contrast the underlying grief in his face. He bit down on his lip, almost drawing blood as he accepted the hand offered to him.
They managed to make four ice-packs before Feuilly flung open the door, holding it open for Bahorel, who carried Courf into the apartment. Joly rushed over, supporting his head as he laid his patient on the kitchen table – the only space large enough, and also flat enough to hold Courf. Eponine, supported by Grantaire trailed in slightly afterwards; a bloody mess of cuts and newly-developing bruises. Grantaire closed the door behind him before whispering in Eponine's ear, a tired and gruesome smile forming on her features.
'Are you good here?' Enjolras asked as Combeferre and Joly worked on Courf, one man cleaning any open wounds, the other examining his head thoughtfully. Combeferre nodded absentmindedly before glancing across the room at the other two casualties; he waved a hand in their direction, signalling for Enjolras to attend to them.
To be quite honest, Enjolras was shocked at Courf's condition. It was far beyond his expertise, he would be of more use elsewhere. Joly was the only one capable of dealing with an injury of this calibre.
It was bad, very bad.
He quickly made his way over to Grantaire and Eponine who were standing, merely watching the scene unfold. He slipped an arm around Eponine's waist, catching Grantaire's arm as he did so. The man hissed absentmindedly; although from pain or protectiveness Enjolras didn't know.
'I've got her, you need to sit down.' Grantaire unwillingly nodded, untangling himself from Eponine as he did so. They made their way to the sitting area. Enjolras carefully placed a rather battered-looking Eponine into the armchair he'd previously vacated. She looked like she could use some comfort right now. He ran over to the kitchen, grabbing two of the four ice-packs, some bandages and damp cloths.
He attended to Eponine first, holding an ice-pack to her jaw.
'Can you hold this?'
'I do have arms, Enj.' It was a mumbled response; unclear and gravelly. Enjolras shook his head, frowning as he wordlessly placed his friend's hand where it was needed. Eponine grinned, her teeth red with blood as she attempted to roll her eyes. He ignored her effort at humour, turning to Grantaire.
He wasn't as bloody as Eponine, but his eye was half-closed and starting to swell. The purple area surrounding looked painful and tender. Enjolras picked up the remaining ice-pack and gently held it against the affected area.
'What happened?' His voice was restrained, level. The words seemed cut off and distant from his current thoughts as he attempted to restrain his growing anger. It wasn't fair to take hit out on his friends; they were the victims. He simply couldn't understand what another human being could expect to gain from inflicting senseless pain on unsuspecting individuals. It was wrong, unjust. With every thought, his irritation grew. He wanted nothing more than to find the culprits, make them pay.
'Humanity.' Grantaire winced as Enjolras' absentmindedly pressed the ice-pack closer to his face, his calm façade slipping momentarily as he did so. He mumbled an apology as Grantaire moved his hand back a few millimetres, hesitantly touching Enjolras' hand with his own slightly bloodied one. He sighed before relaying the story. 'Three men jumped Ponine and Courf; I got there a few minutes after. Courf was already down; two of them were just throwing punch after punch and it was – and then Eponine was – Jesus, Enjolras I thought they were going to -'
He broke off, pushing the ice-pack and by extension, Enjolras' hand, from his face.
'They had her pinned down, they were touching her and I thought they were going to – you know?' He didn't have to say it; Enjolras fully understood. Grantaire stared at the wall behind his head, seething. His hands formed fists in his lap, causing the cuts on knuckles to bleed once again.
Enjolras reluctantly nodded, as he looked over at Eponine. He could almost feel the rage inside him growing; a physical extension of himself. He bit down on his lip, trying to suppress it as he moved over to Eponine once again, kneeling directly in front of the chair. This wasn't a situation Enjolras knew how to approach, then again did anyone? The prospect of sexual abuse was simply unthinkable – he didn't even want to imagine what would have happened if Grantaire hadn't reached them in time. His stomach dropped at the thought, his very consciousness recoiling in detest for the monsters responsible.
'I don't want to talk about it, okay? I'm fine.' Eponine's voice wavered on the last word. Not exactly convincing. However, Enjolras respected her wishes. It should be her choice, of that he was sure. He wasn't going to pry or insist, it would only result in Eponine feeling objectified. Squeezing her knee reassuringly, Enjolras rose and made his way over to Combeferre, who was observing Joly in his practise. It seemed he too had realised Courf was beyond his knowledge and had resigned to comfort Jehan, who was silently crying; clutching Courf's hand as Joly worked.
'Can you spare a moment?' Enjolras knew Combeferre would be the best person to attend to Eponine. His calm and reassuring presence might soothe her enough to open up, feel more comfortable. Sparing a glance at Jehan, he nodded, motioning for Feuilly to take his current position.
As they walked Enjolras explained in hushed tones, Combeferre didn't say anything. He merely nodded, his face growing whiter by the second. Pushing his glasses back up onto his nose, he silently moved toward Eponine. Placing a hand on her back caused her jump; he could see she was putting on a brave face but then again that was Eponine. She detested showing weakness. However, as Combeferre cleaned her cuts with some antiseptic and a clean cloth, she seemed to relax into their conversation. This was a comfort to Enjolras; he'd clearly chosen the right person for the job.
Sure in the knowledge that both Eponine and Courfeyrac were in the best possible hands, he looked to Grantaire. He was sitting alone, staring at the same wall with an expression of utter hatred. Whenever someone approached he grinned almost mechanically, as if his body was on autopilot. Enjolras approached, bringing a small bowl of warm water to clean the other man's lesser wounds. The ones on his knuckles would definitely require a bandage, he noted.
'Are you okay?'
'Never better, you should see the other guy.' Grantaire looked up; twisting his swollen face in one would have resembled a smile. As Enjolras silently began work on his cuts, Grantaire gave a bitter laugh. 'I gave him a face full of concrete.'
'Good.' His jaw clenched, focusing on the task at hand.
'What's this, Enjolras condoning violence? I feel like I just entered some strange alternate universe and nothing makes sense anymore.' His words were drawn out, forcibly casual. Typical Grantaire, trying to put everyone else at ease.
'It was necessary.' Enjolras nodded, picking out the tiny pieces of grit on the surface of the cut. As he finished, he gave them one last wash before winding a tight bandage around his friend's hand.
'Glad to have your approval, captain.' He flexed the newly bandaged limb, bringing it to his head in a salute. Enjolras rolled his eyes, performing the same process on his other hand. 'By the way, there's $150 worth of shopping in the car. Everyone else seems to have forgotten, but I performed my task well. And I only spent half on alcohol, I promise.'
When Enjolras didn't respond right away, Grantaire laughed to himself.
'I was joking.'
'So you didn't spend half of our weekly income on unnecessary beverages?'
'No, of course not.' Enjolras looked up, eyebrows raised. He knew Grantaire well enough to automatically expect a punch-line. 'I spent it all on completely necessary beverages.'
'Oh really?'
'Yes. I'm quite irresponsible, I'll have you know.'
'Believe me, I'm aware.'
Of course, Enjolras knew that Grantaire was joking. He almost found their banter comforting; something familiar in the current haze of chaos and hurt. Feigning irritation was easy, something he could do in his sleep. Being friends with Grantaire had that effect.
Having finished cleaning the other man up, Enjolras stood. He noticed the slight commotion occurring in the opposite corner of the room; Courf was awake. Breathing a sigh of relief, he made his way over; slotting himself in between Jehan and Bahorel.
Courf, despite spending the past twenty-five minutes perfectly unconscious; attempted a smile. Enjolras suspected that he was trying to reassure Jehan, whose head was currently buried in Courf's chest. Joly was trying to force Courf to drink some water, to get him reacquainted with the world. He found himself smiling, thankful that everyone – although decidedly battered – would eventually be okay. Enjolras couldn't help thinking that he should have been there with them; maybe the extra person would have made a difference.
He should have insisted on going.
No.
Enjolras mentally reprimanded himself; he couldn't focus on 'should' – he needed to move the group forwards, move them in the direction of 'will'. No amount of guilt or grief would ever change what happened today, this he knew. He made an internal memo to himself to send out more people in the event of stocking; clearly safety was an issue. He couldn't change the reaction of certain individuals, but he could ensure that extra security measures were taken. It was the least he could do.