"Lucas Joly," Combeferre repeated slowly, as the doctor sat down beside him.
Doctor Joly frowned at Combeferre's shocked state. "Yes, Monsieur." He studied Combeferre's face and tried to meet his eyes. "We have met before, Monsieur."
Combeferre turned to him.
"Two years ago." Joly nodded. "I was Jacob's doctor after you were both in a serious car accident."
Combeferre's eyebrows rose in recognition. "Yes, of course!" He frowned again. "But that doesn't explain why …" He trailed off, silently pondering how Enjolras could have possibly been hallucinating a person named Joly years before he'd met one. Joly wasn't an exceptionally common name and Enjolras had implied several times that the Joly he saw was also a doctor.
"That doesn't explain what, Monsieur?"
Combeferre snapped out of his thought and looked back to the doctor. "Nothing, nothing." He sat up straighter and took a breath. "How is Enjolras?"
Doctor Joly looked down at his clipboard. "He is doing wonderfully right now and he has the potential to make a full recovery. The bullet punctured his lung and he lost a lot of blood, but we were able to remove the bullet with little trouble and we are currently replenishing his blood supply."
Combeferre nodded shakily. The relief of hearing the words 'make a full recovery' had brought tears to his eyes. "Has he woken up yet?"
Doctor Joly shook his head. "We're keeping him under for right now. I thought you should be with him when he woke up; the hospital can be a scary place. Plus he's on an artificial breathing device."
"A mask or a tube?" Combeferre asked, praying for the former.
"A tube," Doctor Joly answered, watching Combeferre's shoulders slump. "So you can see why it's important that he stay under."
Combeferre nodded. "I assume he'll be kept that way for at least a day."
"Yes, Monsieur. But only one day. Anything longer and there might be complications."
"Of course." Combeferre fell silent, his brain listing off all the possible complications and how he would deal with them.
"Monsieur, would you like to see him?" The doctor asked gently.
"Yes," Combeferre answered immediately, "please."
Enjolras didn't remember falling asleep at a table in the Musain, yet somehow he found himself waking up at one. He lifted his groggy head, which felt weighed down by some invisible ton of bricks, and looked around.
Courfeyrac was reclining in a chair across from him with his feet on the table. "You had quite a party last night," he said with a grin, flipping through the newspaper in his hands.
Enjolras rubbed his eyes. "Did I?"
"By 'party,' I mean that you got sad about the state of the country and drank several hard ciders before you started ranting and then drank several more before you made a speech on the table and then about two and a half more before you threw up in that trash can," Courfeyrac jerked his thumb in the direction of a small trashcan in the corner of the room, "and then passed out."
"Well, that does sound like my kind of party." Enjolras tried to take a deep breath but found it strangely difficult. "Where's Combeferre?"
"Not sure," Courfeyrac said, turning a page in his newspaper. "The last time I saw him was in the alley."
"What al—"
"Actually, no that was a lie. That was the last time you saw him. The last time I saw him was in the car. I have no clue where he went after that."
Enjolras furrowed his brow. "Did I pass out in an alley?"
Courfeyrac laughed once, loudly. "Oh yeah, big time."
It was then that Enjolras noticed the headline on Courfeyrac's newspaper: Area Man Called the "R" Word by Father, No Good Comes of It
"Here have some water, man." Courfeyrac slid a glass of water over to Enjolras. "You need to clear your head."
Enjolras frowned at the headline and took a sip of the water; immediately he choked and spit it back out, gasping loudly. Courfeyrac sat up and put his newspaper aside, his expression was worried and a bit puzzled.
"E, what's wrong?" he asked, getting out of his chair and coming around the table to Enjolras's side.
Enjolras coughed and wheezed between words. "I … don't … know. I … I can't—" Enjolras cut himself off as Courfeyrac came around to help him. His eyes widened and he coughed heavily. "C-Courfeyrac … you … you're …"
Courfeyrac looked down at his plaid shirt, which was covered in blood and jagged pieces of glass. He gasped at the sight and put his hand on the wooden surface of the table to steady himself. "W-What …?" He looked up at Enjolras with wide eyes. "Enjolras … you're dreaming."
Enjolras stared at Courfeyrac's shirt, his breathing becoming more ragged.
Courfeyrac stumbled up to him and fell on his knees. He reached up and grabbed Enjolras' shoulders.
Enjolras flinched. "Don't—"
"Enjolras, wake up," Courfeyrac pleaded. "Please don't make me go through this again."
Suddenly, they were in a car and it was dark and stormy and the world smelled like iron. Courfeyrac's hands were still on his arms, but now he was turned at a strange angle, as if he had been trying to climb from the passengers seat into the back where Enjolras was. Now there was blood dripping from Courfeyrac's mouth and a piece of metal sticking out of his chest.
"E-Enjolras don't … make … me …" Courfeyrac grimaced and bowed his head in a sob. "Fucking hell, Enjolras, please … WAKE UP!"
Enjolras's eyes snapped open and he released a choked scream. Several hands held him down and a blinding white light blurred anything his eyes would have been seeing. Something large was being pulled slowly out of his throat, scrapping the sides of his trachea, causing him to gag.
"It's almost out, Enjolras. It's almost over." Combeferre's voice echoed out from somewhere around him.
Enjolras didn't like this. He didn't like all the hands that were touching him, he didn't like the feeling of not being able to breathe, he didn't like the dream he had just woken up from, and most importantly, he didn't like the pain that was shooting through his whole body.
"Enjolras, please be still," Joly said somewhere to his left. "It will hurt less if you are."
But Enjolras didn't want to be still; he was always so bad at that. There was no logical reason to be still when people where holding him down and making everything confusing and scary. He didn't know where he was, or why someone would be so cruel as to stick something all the way down his throat just to have the pleasure of pulling it out again.
So he struggled. He gagged and strained against the hands holding him down until finally … he could breathe a little better. Whatever was obstructing his throat was gone and as the hands that had once held him down retracted, Enjolras fell back against the bed limply. The lights in the room dimmed and Enjolras could see that he was in a small white room with white sheets covering him and he had a white shirt on and there was a white, or more accurately clear (but Enjolras preferred to keep things in groups) tube sticking in his arm.
"Enjolras?" Combeferre said to his right, bringing Enjolras out of his search for more white things to put in his group. Four fingers gently touched his arm and when Enjolras followed him upwards he saw a calming, bespectacled face. "How do you feel?"
Enjolras' eyes lingered on Combeferre for a bit. Something about him made Enjolras sad, there was some awful feeling he remembered having earlier that had something to do with Combeferre. But the feeling was short lived, Combeferre was Enjolras' rock and right now Enjolras wanted him to be only that.
"I don't like it here, Combeferre," Enjolras whispered. His voice was gone, presumably robbed from him by thing that once occupied throat.
Combeferre scooted closer to Enjolras's bed. "I know you don't and I'm so sorry that you ended up here."
Enjolras frowned and pulled at the bracelet around his wrist, he didn't like that it said Jacob on it. "I don't think that it was your fault. Nothing is ever your fault, Combeferre."
Combeferre bowed his head, his other hand grabbed onto the sheets and his fingers curled into a fist. "You would be wrong about that, Enjolras."
A week past slowly; Doctor Joly kept Enjolras either on a heavy dose of morphine or completely under. Combeferre didn't like either scenario but he knew that it was for the best. Enjolras had never been in the amount of pain that bullet wound brought and he didn't know how to handle it, and Combeferre greatly preferred to see Enjolras sleeping peacefully than squirming around on the bed, telling Combeferre that he was "done being here now".
Sometimes Enjolras didn't sleep so peacefully though. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of a nap with tears in his eyes, or woke up suddenly in the middle of the night screaming and sobbing. Those were the phone calls Combeferre had come to dread. A nurse calling him up at 2 A.M. asking him in a strained voice to please come down to the hospital to help calm his friend. There was only one incident in which Enjolras didn't calm down the moment Combeferre walked into the room, that time Doctor Joly had to be called in and a strong sedative was administered. When Combeferre asked Enjolras the next day what he'd been dreaming about, Enjolras didn't remember but Combeferre suspected it had to do with Courfeyrac … he was always in Enjolras' nightmares, just as he was always in Combeferre's.
In the midst of all the bad, Combeferre was immensely glad for Doctor Joly. Enjolras took to the doctor immediately, remembering him from the last time he'd been in the hospital. Combeferre still hadn't asked Enjolras how it was possible for him to have a hallucinated a doctor friend named Joly and there also be a real one mostly because he didn't know how to ask the question. He also hadn't mentioned that he'd met a man named Bahorel, another one of Enjolras's imaginary friends out on the streets; for his own sanity, Combeferre was still ruling that a coincidence.
Saturday finally rolled around and Combeferre was just finishing his second cup of coffee when he entered into the hospital. He disposed of the cup and stepped inside the elevator to head up to Enjolras's room, his mind occupied by thousands of thoughts, none of which he had answers to. He felt like he was falling apart.
"Monsieur Combeferre!" Doctor Joly's voice echoed down the hall as the man jogged towards the elevator.
Combeferre put his hand out and stopped the elevator door from closing, allowing the doctor to squeeze inside before they shut again.
"Good morning," Doctor Joly said, catching his breath.
Combeferre nodded at him, a bad feeling forming in his stomach. "Good morning. Is everything alright?"
The doctor took a deep breath. "I'm glad I caught you, um … I'm not exactly sure. Enjolras' health is declining, he—"
"What? I thought that the surgeries fixed the hole in his lung and that his blood supply was almost—"
"No, no, pardon me, I wasn't clear." Doctor Joly ran a hand through his hair. "It's not his physical health, it's his mental health. He hasn't been eating as much as he used to, he didn't touch any of his breakfast. He's usually quite friendly with the nurses when he's awake but they've all reported to me saying that in the past two day he hasn't spoken to them at all."
Combeferre frowned deeply and rubbed his eyes. The elevator door opened and the two men walked towards Enjolras's room. "He did seem a little off yesterday but I thought it was just because of the morphine or …" Combeferre stopped in front of Enjolras's door, the expression on his face slowly turned to one of sad understanding. "Oh."
Doctor Joly shook his head. "Oh?"
Combeferre looked at him with regret in his eyes. "Thursday you told me that you started giving him his normal medication, the kind we give him at the Home."
Joly nodded. "Yes, but that should have only helped the situation."
"Among the medications he is supposed to receive is one called Risperidone, which as you know treats—"
"Schizophrenia."
"Schizophrenia, yes." Combeferre took a deep breath. "I didn't … well, when I was Enjolras' doctor I didn't give him that medication because when he's on it he stops hallucinating."
Doctor Joly frowned. "That is the whole point of the medication."
Combeferre nodded desperately. "I know, I know, but … he hallucinates a group of people that are his friends and he needs then to be happy and when he's on it they go away and he gets so depressed and once he even tried to … he …" Combeferre rubbed his eyes under his glasses and muttered almost to himself. "I knew I shouldn't have ever given it to him, I had this gut feeling it wouldn't turn out well but I did it anyway and the result was my fault."
Doctor Joly was silent for a moment but then placed a hand on Combeferre's shoulder. "Monsieur I understand what you are feeling and I'm not saying that you should ignore your gut an allow Enjolras to continue on this medication only to feel lonely and depressed. But I am saying that this medication is the best thing for him. I think you should give Enjolras what he deserves."
Combeferre couldn't help but let a hint of anger creep into his voice. "And you know what he deserves, do you?"
Joly nodded and squeezed Combeferre's shoulder. "Something real."
"And … And I haven't seen Feuilly in a really long time either and I think that it's nice that Joly is here sometimes but I miss Feuilly and Bahorel and Bossuet and Courfeyrac and even Grantaire." Enjolras sniffed and tied the strings of the new red hoodie Combeferre had brought for him in constant knots. "I miss them, Combeferre and I want them to come back."
Combeferre got up from his chair and sat on Enjolras' bed. "What if I asked Jehan Prouvaire to visit you? Would you like that?"
Enjolras wiped away the tears falling from his eyes and pulled the white hospital blankets further over himself. "I would like to see Jehan Prouvaire but I would also like to see everyone else too."
"Enjolras, everyone else …" Combeferre struggled to say it, "they aren't real."
Enjolras covered his ears and drew his knees up to his chest. "Stop it, Combeferre, please stop." More tears found their way down his cheeks as he made a distressed noise. "I need them, I need them, I need them." Enjolras's voice cracked and he sobbed into his knees.
Combeferre quickly moved to sit beside him, stretching out his legs on the bed and allowed their arms to come in contact with each other. Enjolras didn't move away from the touch but instead leaned into it. Combeferre asked the calming questions and eventually got Enjolras to regain a normal breathing pattern.
"Enjolras, where did you come up with the name Joly?" Combeferre asked after a while.
Enjolras sniffed and leaned more heavily against Combeferre. "I didn't come up with that name, Combeferre. I didn't."
"Where did you hear it then?"
"From Joly."
"Joly told you his name?"
"Yes, Combeferre."
"How—"
"He told it to me when we met."
"When you met? Met where?"
Enjolras closed his eyes and made a noise. "Combeferre, I don't want to answer any more questions, please."
"Just this one, Enjolras and then I'll be done, I promise."
Enjolras opened his eyes. "He taught me to eat vegetables. He is very smart and he said that he just wanted me to be healthy and I trust him."
"He taught you to eat vegetables …?"
Enjolras made a distressed noise and put his fingers on his temples.
"I'm sorry, no more questions." Combeferre rubbed Enjolras's back. "No more questions, Enjolras."
"No more," Enjolras mumbled.
Once Enjolras was asleep again Combeferre left his room and went to find Doctor Joly. The question he was planning on asking was going to sound utterly insane but Combeferre had to figure out what was going on.
"He said that I taught him to eat vegetables?" Doctor Joly asked sipping his coffee.
Combeferre nodded. "Does that ring a bell at all with you?"
The doctor scratched his head. "I'd never met Enjolras before the accident a while back so there's no way I … would have …" Doctor Joly stared at his shoes and then slowly looked up at Combeferre. "Well, shit."
Combeferre's eyes widened. "What?"
"Back before I became a doctor I had to teach a health lesson at several schools, offices, retirement homes … and one mental disability care facility."
Combeferre laughed in disbelief. "Holy shit."
Doctor Joly nodded. "Yeah there were a few slides on proper food portioning and I remember talking about the importance of eating vegetables."
Combeferre slumped down in a plastic chair in the hospital break room and shook his head. "So Enjolras liked you so much that he just kept imagining you everywhere." He looked up at Doctor Joly. "You're real. You're Joly. And Courfeyrac … he sees Courfeyrac too and Courfeyrac was real and the other day … I met someone named Bahorel …" Combeferre stood up. "I mean is it even possible that Enjolras hasn't just been hallucinating people, but remembering people this whole time?"
"I mean its certainty not out of the question," the doctor said, shaking his head in wonder.
Combeferre ran his hand through his hair. "I have to find them, Joly."
Joly's brow furrowed. "What you're going to search all over Paris for these people Enjolras has been imagining for years?"
"I have to," Combeferre said, determination forming on his face. "You said it yourself, Enjolras deserves something real … and I'm going to find it for him."
