Notes: Still shouting out for Smiles1998 for being my baby girl that supports me so much and makes my days happier all the time! Thank you for being always here and enlightening my days! :3
Thank you for all the followers and all the favorites, all the reviews and everyone who is reading this fic somehow! I don't know you yet but I would love to answer to any question or any kind of interaction you might want to have with me - but if you only want to read my fic, I'll continue posting it anyways ;) Though it will take some more time to be updated than I previously attempted due my many projects at University and everything currently going on in my life right now ( I just became a member of AIESEC and if you are also let me now and we'll become friends and exchange leadership tips :] But I really had only began it - so bear with me! ).
So, for any doubts, I'm not abandoning the fic and I'm still here, so you can tell me what you think you like or what you don't like, what you think should happen or not, what you so much desire to happen until the end of the fic (but I have to say I don't know where it ends, so... :D)! Whenever you feel comfortable, review me! 3
Now, alerts of very dramatic themes and conversations. Some Joly in the beginning, but Enjolras' centered as always and, PLEASE, REVIEW! D:
Without further ado, Enjoy! ;)
Guilt
Joly slowly opened the door to Enjolras room with a loud creak, some hour in the middle of the afternoon, extremely concerned with the blonde young monsieur and the injury in his head – the hypochondriac was still sore from the last night's quarrel, even if he wasn't one to bear a grudge, since the conversation was much inappropriate for such a time in which they were supposed to be hopping in joy with the news of Marius being alive and safe.
To be accurate, the fact that made the tall student melancholic was that Enjolras barely has a clue of what happened before he was at the hospital and already blames himself for the deaths of his friends, and Joly was being honest when he affirms Les Amis knew they were risking their lives. When Enjolras finally recovers everything, he'll kill himself in guilty!
And Joly didn't want to bury another friend – this time, someone he could save.
However, when his green eyes searched inside the dark room, scarcely lit by the reflection of the sunlight hitting the granite floor, he felt his chest tightened to the sight of the once blazing, burning leader of the Abaissé, as bright as the sun, sitting motionless in the middle of his bed, a shadow blending in the darkness and the worse sensation Joly had ever felt since they had moved to his winter house.
The blonde, marble man made the only noise for Joly to know he was alive, because the silence would be plain and deadly if Enjolras' breathing could not be regarded as a sound.
Joly stepped inside the room, ever so slightly not to startle him, though the young man wasn't sleeping. Oh, no. Joly could see the azure orbs even in the dark of the room, frosted and blank as digging holes between the patterns in the wall across his bed. It seemed as he was in a deep trance, his mind miles away from the dark chamber, his heart broke in pieces.
Joly heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair and shutting the door behind him as he made his strode to the Enjolras' bed in quick, mute feet, worried his friend could be in a trance and careful not to break it – he read in one of his mental health books that a person woke abruptly from a trance may suffer several brain damages and it's irreversible, in most of the cases.
In this case, whatever it might be, Joly would be certainly the most careful he could.
Enjolras didn't move since Joly stopped in front of him, feeling pity and desperate as the minutes passed by and the former leader of their revolutionary group hadn't blinked since the tall brunette had walked inside his room.
Oh, mon ami… Joly thought, feeling his eyes watering as he was skittish, yet, with tied hands, to do something to his dear friend I have to help you…
"What am I doing?" the usually fierce and refulgent voice of the marble man sounded so broken and so desperate that Joly almost thought he was standing in front of someone else's bed – almost.
Joly saw as the azure eyes continued still, close enough to notice the dark circles around them ad the red of crying staining the white around his intent irises. Enjolras was pale and was practically fading in the blackness surrounding him, engulfed by his demons.
How to save someone damaged like this?
And the time he gave Joly to answer was over when he blinked his eyes, adjusting their aim to the tall student's pitiful expression, worsening the situation. If Joly felt bad walking in the room, now, standing under the gaze of those confused and saddened eyes of his friends, made him tremble.
"What have I done to you?" and the medical student understand that Enjolras wasn't only referring to him, but the other boys.
Joly sighed and softened his eyes, walking around the bed and sitting on the armchair next to it, feeling the stare on his frame as he moved.
"It wasn't you, mon ami." Joly started, but Enjolras didn't let him continue, the lowest voice – it seemed calm and centered for anyone who didn't know the young man as well as Joly knew him, didn't know how exasperated he was when using this tone.
"Please, Joly." His head went downwards and Joly followed the course of his orbs, fixing the glare on the limp palms, just the shadow of the once marble skin covering his entire body "I might not have carried the weapon, but I was the one to take away their future." He closed the hands slowly, they trembled sorely, shaking the entire body of the broken lad and Joly swallowed his bleakness, knowing well his reassurance wouldn't mean much if his voice faltered. Though Enjolras continued to speak before he had made up his mind to say anything at all "And I can barely remember them." His shoulders hunched forwards, hiding his face and his flickering voice, the sincerity of his words forming holes in Joly's chest to the mention of him actually recalling something of them. Enjolras turned his head towards the brunette sitting next to him, the azure orbs between the twitching eyelids and tears leaking from the corners shading darker the skin of his embittered face "How cruel was I, Joly? Be honest to me."
Joly resisted the urge to roll his eyes from the face of his friend, not that the question was as ridiculous as it seemed – Enjolras could be terrible with the greatness of his heart, of his forward and wide mind, of his vision of he possessed of the world they lived in. But never cruel! Cruelty was what he fought against and there was not a single hint of it on him.
"Enjolras, you were never cruel!" Joly retorted a bit rampant and was replied with a shake head, the curls of his friend falling all over his face and shadowing them more "Stop torturing yourself on supposing things you never were!"
Enjolras glared intently at the green eyes of the auburn haired friend, his brows furrowed "But I was." Joly frowned, antagonizing the other man until the blonde finished the idealization of himself "I killed a little boy, Joly!" and Joly felt his face losing all the colors as the features of Gavroche came slowly to his mind, his throat knotting as he the laughter of the street urchin echoed inside his head, hanging around them and being actually recognized as an Ami de L'Abaissé. He felt his face contorting and his body itching to move, and he covered his mouth with his hand in a fist, shutting his eyes and trying to bite away the insistent tears threatening his attempt on being confident "I let Gavroche stay and fight!" Joly felt his shoulders shaking as he held the sob back "And he died for nothing!" and there was rancor in the azure, blank eyes.
Joly shook his head, the tears already falling from his eyes "So you say all of us were cruel when we let Gavroche stay!" Enjolras scoffed facing the wall as if Joly had said the most ridiculous thing ever "And Gavroche wouldn't leave either way, Enjolras!" the blonde didn't turn to glare back at him, shaking his head and moving his eyes through the ornaments in the ceiling "He was independent and stubborn, he did as he pleased and he only listened to us when he thought made sense! He stayed because he wanted to stay and there was no one who could change his mind!" Enjolras hadn't move and Joly continued to speak, even though spotting the glinting tears staining his pale face "No one of Les Amis, not even Courfreyac…" Enjolras trembled listening to the name of the other student he had remembered, he had killed "Not even you, fearless leader, who he respected so much, changed his mind!" now the blonde glared at him murderously and Joly felt a bit remorseful for being a cynical, though it was the best time to force some sense into his damaged brain "He didn't even listen to Éponine, Enjolras!"
But what reasons did Gavroche have to listen to her, anyway? She obviously stayed because she wanted to, because she wanted to be with Marius, because, oh well, she had to take a bullet for him of course!
Why would Gavroche ever listen to her? Enjolras thought shallowly, blind and boiling in anger of his own practically let it spill in Joly for his words of attempting in decreasing the severity of his faults, attempting to change his mind of his own past actions.
Enjolras was as absorbed in his degrading thoughts of himself that he lingered to notice the shadow frame in light colors standing at his doorway, not eavesdropping their conversation anymore because the door was wide open and the lavender hem of the dress' skirt already trailed in the granite belonging to his chambers, the size to big for her height as the long sleeves were baggy around her bony arms and the hems covered her bandages hands, the arms limp at her sides; a wide, purple strip detached from the dress securing the fabric around her narrow waist as it hanged loosely about the neckline showing some of her prominent collarbone and the bandage over her left shoulder under some of her mass of dark locks blending in the darkness inside his room.
He saw the movement in her throat as she swallowed thickly and her lips were pursued, the dimples in the corners never failing to appear, her nose leading to the hazel eyes and the stormy gaze they sent both of the students across the room, her lashes blinking away quiet tears as her brows furrowed in sorrow.
"Éponine" Joly blurted startled and Enjolras saw him standing up clumsily, his stance timid and cautious as if not to frighten her away, his face self-conscious of bringing her to the subject and his hands cleaning away the tears recklessly.
Her orbs stared quickly at him, steady and quick in a pace Enjolras would never be able to actually take in how one was, learn all to learn of one, but she seemed to have already understood the situation of him and what was going on inside his head. Her irises were focused in Enjolras face, now, the drops hanging in the tips of the lashes, her prominent cheeks already damp.
"I..." Joly started, cleaning his throat and glaring at Enjolras fumbling, abashed for mentioning her at that form. He coughed and glanced back at her, she was still at the doorway, waiting "I-I didn't know what t-to say!" Joly was clearly trembling, stuttering in fear of what her reaction to this would be.
Enjolras would never admit, though he was apprehensive what she might do next – she was, as a matter of fact, unpredictable.
Joly glared back at Enjolras as he worried about his safety and worried about his head injury as the thoughts of what he would do next to ease the complex situation would be. The once marble man glared sorely back at him, his stance unsure of what to do also and how to react to Éponine lack of reactions – Joly was sure his brain cells were in a very messy, confused knot and he was very close of losing his sanity in the presence of these dreadful friends of his – and he thought to himself that Courfreyac would try to soften the situation by telling some tasteless joke of his, which Grantaire would join in laughter shamelessly, and that would make Jehan reprehend them both in a dagger starring rage as Bahorel left surreptitiously before anyone actually had the time of thinking about involving him; Bossuet would also try to sneak out, but he was much unlucky for his own safety, being spotted to soon and dragged in the matter violently along Marius' inability of seeking a way out of it as he had always some plan to stalk Monsieur LeBlanc and Mademoiselle Noir, later known as Cosette and her dearest father; Gavroche would be soon gone as he soon came through the door, or even the window in some hypotheses, making up his 'stuff to do' and 'places to be' as the same excuses that were plausible for all Les Amis due his life.
And, as Combeferre would suggest in times like these, when the tension was exceedingly and the silent unbearable, for everyone to leave and not steak their noses where they weren't called – they would know what happened in the end, anyways -, Joly decided to follow the advice of his late mate with a sigh, hunching his shoulders forwards and announcing his leaving with a low "I must take my leave."
God, he missed his friends so much all the time! If only the memories of them could be brought in halcyon days…
I only pray for them to come sooner then the expected, Joly thought as he passed by Éponine, who merely nodded to his choice of leaving them alone to talk, not blinking her stormy eyes at him as she stepped forward and let him close the door behind him.
Please, God, don't let them kill each other! He prayed as he spotted Beni in the end of the broad hallway, his face in a knowingly and guilty expression, giving away what he was doing there and letting Joly forget about his troubled friends inside the room for some moments
"You were listening to all of this and didn't come in to help me why?!" he hissed angrily, marching in a rush to his butler and making the old man merely rise his eyebrows in a sign he saw no nuisance in Morrice's outburst.
"It's not my place to speak." He replied simply, turning away to walk and Joly followed hot in his heels.
"It is, yes, when I'm in deep trouble and can't imagine what to do!" Beni stopped and glared slyly at him.
"You did well for one that couldn't imagine what to do." And Joly arched one eyebrow, inquiring a more detailed answer, receiving a shrug from the old man as he walked away "Don't worry, Morrice. You choose right to leave them alone."
Joly only hoped so.
Enjolras stood up, not comfortable sitting anymore – not that he ever were comfortable before. No. There was no such condition at the turmoil of sensations and thoughts running inside his head, he could feel his forehead burning as an answer to his strain of remembering, his fever hardening the clear thoughts that attempted in emerging – though they would be soon ran over as the raging guilty and exceedingly pain of the few memories he had of those ghosts with faces decimated any attempt of self forgiveness, self pity.
There was no self-pity in him today; there was no self-mercy anymore. Enjolras was well aware of the gravity of his actions, and it wasn't about the dictatorship present in their country, what it would bring him if he was discovered – he literally couldn't care less for what the army, the king, the world could do to him anymore; it was about, however, making the mind of his friends to join him in the revolution that would create a world which they would not have a part in building it – the only part they would have would be in attempting fighting for a better France to initiate and they wouldn't be even be recognized later as the ones to believe in their country as a working Republic.
He couldn't accept the fact he was the most self-centered person through the whole preparation of their revolution, how he never stopped to ever reason what his friends idealized of his ideal in never being present in the world they wanted to born?! How niggardly could he be when what he perceived as the right, the correct, remained untouchable and unalterable to the point the others' lives mattered not as much as his own ideal of justice?!
He killed all of his friends because of his ideals – were they worth all of it after all?! Was it worth it after all?!
And the answer to this, even after cursing himself, after torturing himself with all the pain and suffering, with all the guilt he felt, the burden upon his shoulders, he didn't know, yet. There was a stronger force inside of him, a feeling he hadn't name yet – not for the lacking of words to call it, but for the lacking of acknowledgment – he did not know. It was too soon, too fresh to judge, to commit to the reality of his currently life.
He wasn't sure what he expected to come out of it, though, if it would be worth their deaths.
Naught came to his mind that would be worth a death of a ten year old boy. Naught!
He postured wasn't straighten, his head practically the height of his shoulders and he wasn't sane enough to care about trivialities, about his lack of posture, of his weak and defeated stance. He couldn't careless to appearances at this point, at making appearance to attempt in conflicting to whatever Éponine would speak of him, whatever she would throw right in his face, whatever she would accuse him for – he would answer her, however, he would tell her whatever thoughts were dominating his mind at the moment and she wouldn't be spared just because she suffered before.
Enjolras was insane, he felt insane – and, yet, he hadn't recalled half the important people he had forgotten.
Damned... Degraded... Doomed…
Couldn't be as fit as now.
He hadn't turned to see her, he could feel her stormy gaze at his features though – his eyes wandered the darkness freezing his room to the hot summer breeze outside. He was much absorbed in his self degradation to notice her small shadow sneaking to stand nearer to him, sideways making her visible and impossible of being ignored.
He slowly turned his head to truly face her, his countenance somber and impending her of coming forth or she would regret. However, as expected, she was unpredictable and there was nothing as threatening Enjolras could do that would send her away in frighten, in dismay as he wanted to – he only needed her to state what she indeed had to say about herself to him, to enlighten his doubts and be honest to herself in the end.
Albeit he had no clue of how to start a conversation from that exact moment
Until…
"Much full of cracks to please you?" he inquired sardonically, feeling the disdain of his words inflating his nostrils.
Éponine blinked, the tears not falling anymore even though he could yet spot the drops hanging in her damp lashes, her countenance intent and much serene for his momentary fondness. He knew, however, she wasn't as compose as she seemed to be.
"Have you any idea of what you're doing?"
As a matter of fact, he was astounded at her capacity of stunning him. He was astounded at the sound of her voice, the reminiscent tone of desperation adding the complex sensation she trespassed, as appeased and as bland as he had never heard her being in a lifetime – he was certain to his bones she had never spoken this way since they ever met, much before what he had forgotten.
He scoffed and narrowed his eyes to her, his brows furrowed and the curls on his way to stare daggers at her, this time his body was fully turned towards her.
"I beg your pardon?" he was being ironical and showing his exasperated confusion to her question.
Her brows knitted the slightest, her chin was held high even though she wasn't attempting on being arrogant. Nevertheless, he had no idea what she attempted on being at the moment.
"Do you know what you're doing?" she insisted stubbornly and he gritted his teeth.
"Apparently not, for your question has no alternative." He answered wryly, feeling his once limp hands turning into fists and the same nerve-wrecking expression over her face – his never-wrecking "Do you know what I'm doing?" she nodded in serenity and he felt his blood boiling at her secretive way. He listened to his fingers crackling in his palms at his restrained force, a throb a bit more acute than the last to his temper "Do you care enough to tell me?!" he wondered cocking his head aside, attempting to send the blood elsewhere than the paining area at the right side of his brain.
"You're being many things at the moment." He arched an eyebrow at her and she continued, the same centered face antagonizing his brooding self "You're being an idiot, to begin with." His brows faltered to her answer, falling bored over his eyes "The greatest idiot you've ever been even after everything that happened at the barricade and before." He felt a vain pumping in his forehead as she brought the subject with an ease unmatched by him – though he spotted the not as easy issue as she hid her bandaged hands in the hems of the long sleeves, neglecting the fabric to her pain "You were many things, Enjolras," she started once more, her eyes narrowing slightly and her brows following the movement impetuously "But you were never egoist." He snorted, pitching the tip of his nose while rubbing it and rolling his eyes, gesturing how ridiculous she sounded. She didn't stop, though "You were a fool, you were naïve, you were unrealistic most of the times when you idealized the bright future your beloved Patria would have." She almost sounded resentful when mentioning the country he dedicated himself to "And you sacrificed yourself for a dream that was yours, but you weren't a part of it." He motioned his head to the other way and she raised her voice for him to pay attention to her no matter what – a gesture that worked to his insane self "There was no moment in which you ever denied something yours for others because it could damage you. Always been the reverse." He gazed at her sideways, one of his hands in his hips as the other forced the nails to dig and bleed his palm "You always seemed fierce and fearless, Enjolras, like marble. Have you forgotten you're made of flesh and blood like anyone else?" he glared at her, narrowed his eyes in a murderous attempt of making her regret her words. There was no hint of guilty on her determined face that could give in to his desire "You're only human, you make mistakes, you can be fooled and you can fool anyone else!" he scoffed at that and stomped his feet once, fierce and loud at the floor as to stop her. He back straightening at her provocations, his stance coming back "You can crack, Enjolras! You're broken!" that statement hurt her and balanced her, giving Enjolras time enough to interrupt her speech.
"I cannot see what your business in my life is!" he replied cynically, gesturing to the wide and dark room with his once fisted, free hand "I do not see where you are involved in every word you have told me ever since you walked through that door." He replied, taking a step closer to her and noticing her trepidation under the inquiring tone he had just used as many other times. Her stormy eyes widening the slightest. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer again, shrugging in disdain "What you earn in telling me all of this and making me believe in whatever you say?"
She stood a bit taller, straightening her shoulders to his threatening close "This isn't about me, you know it!" she retorted and he arched a sardonic brow "I'm trying to take it easy at you outburst of information; I'm trying to help you!" he shrugged again and she narrowed her eyes, he could see the frown of rage rising up in her features "You really think I would stay quiet as you broke down while remembering Les Amis?!"
"I honestly have no idea of what to think of you, Éponine." She gasped and backed her neck a bit, bothered by his words "You change your mind like the tides along the breeze; you know so much how to never get attached that you're confused when there are many others involved." She listened attentively to what he had to say, her brown eyes never leaving his blank azure orbs "You hide behind your demons just as I do, but the difference between you and me lays in which you have memories of the past I forgot!"
She shook her head, scoffing and letting her face go downwards at that, the mirthless laughter he felt odd not to have heard before as he also felt the remorseful for it to reach his ears at the moment – she couldn't puzzle him more.
Her face was drastically up once more, her eyes fixing an intent gaze into his "We all hide behind our demons." There was so much darkness in her words that she didn't have to say anything more for the matter. Éponine simply changed the subject "And I don't have to earn anything in return for doing the right thing!" He narrowed his eyes to her, suspicious of what she meant "I'm not obliging you to believe in me, anyways." She shrugged, the mischievous characteristic of her own enlightening his raging mind and cleaning some of his shadowed sight over the recent events – just with a poorly thought and simple shrug she made "If you do believe in me, it was all on you."
Could he consider their conversation real? How could she swift the mood of the conversation as simple as this?
What was she, in the end?!
"So," she began once again, the mischievous of her voice leaving as it came, the sorrow and the nostalgia painfully coming out of her mouth as she let her head fall down a bit, her stormy eyes not tempestuous anymore and permitting the melancholy to take place, her brows following every feeling at the same fast pace they came and went in her face. Her shoulders seemed to relax and he would believe in that due the low and serene tone of her raspy voice, if only the atmosphere around them hadn't become mournful and Enjolras wasn't aware of the weight on Éponine's trembling shoulders "You remembered…"
He felt crestfallen to the mention of his memories, the ghosts and their voices around them hardening to breathe and to think clear, the throbbing in his head blurring some more of the few memories he had of the students he recalled so far – or were all the memories he recovered illusions of his damaged brain? Only dreams again?
He swallowed thickly as she moved towards the bed – she made no sound at all and he never knew how she managed being as silent all the time – and sat slowly at the matted of sheets, blankets and pillows, taking one of light green and golden seashells patterns over the white velvet fabric in her hands and gazing intently at it as she stroke her most damaged hand over it, almost curling up on it and half of the mass of her locks falling over her slender, square face of lips turned downwards and eyelids parted only for the darkest of her eyes, the brown practically blending in the shadows around them – Enjolras felt the unrecognizable desire of opening at least one of the curtains to enlighten her much somber features.
He didn't move though she took her seat, he merely stared, demanding of her to continue what she had heard, though she said no more than that. Her eyes wandered through the golden and green in her hands as her mind was far away from where they both stood. He sighed to her sudden absence of mind, or the intent she had in being quiet for letting him speak of what Enjolras had recalled, in the end.
He ran a hand through his curls, neglecting the golden locks as pushing his fingers through the knots and jerking some of them from his scalp – they were unruly and much think for his fondness at the moment and he thought to clear some of the cloud in his mind it was necessary to straighten some of his untamable hair; and he stepped closer to the bed, heaving another sigh as he supported his hands on his knees to take a seat next, not as close to, Éponine, his elbows over his knees and his hands jointed as he faced forwards and attempted on not glaring their entire conversation at the languishing mademoiselle.
"I have, as a matter of fact," he cut through the silence and he heard her breathing taking a little longer to continue "remembered some of Les Amis and some of what happened to the barricade." And he turned his face slightly at her, feeling her staring back at him "You were right when you said the people wouldn't come." She blinked, something coming to her eyes, almost awe, and going as it came, once more, as she shook her head and glared back at the pillow in her hands "I remembered some face and some names, some of Les Amis." He swallowed.
"Tell me." He frowned and she glanced back at him "Who have you remembered?"
"You know who I remembered." He retorted flatly, shallow to what she meant through she just asked "You heard me and Joly talking." She nodded slightly, stroking the fabric in her hands once more.
"I know." he arched an eyebrow to her, her eyes darting away from the pillow to his face almost pleading "But I want to hear it from you." He softened his brows, still puzzled to what she meant and she continued with a sigh leaving along her words "I need to hear from your mouth the names of those you remembered, the names of ours friends." She was so earnest, her saddened eyes as honest as Enjolras had never seen before. She pursued her lips and her eyes blinked a tear away again "I need you to speak of them like you did before, I need you to remember them and to remember you…" her lips trembled and she looked away again "I need you to be you again…" she gasped audibly and cleaned her face with the back of one of her hands, gazing back at him and attempting on being tough "Will you talk to me, Enjolras?" she questioned half-heartedly, frenetic with her pleading brown orbs.
He was much tempted in telling her all he recalled – and he would be certain he would make her talk to him after all.
Notes: This is not as long, but is full of feels. Really full of feels! :P I hope you liked it and I hope to now you'll tell me what you think of it.
Have to go now, but I'll be back as soon as I can! Love you all and leave me some of your love! :3
Take care and see ya!
Juliana
