Chapter Ten: A Plot Unfolds
Morning dawned two hours later, finding Grantaire sitting against the headboard of the blond's bed, Enjolras curled up next to him. The sun's rays made the drunkard blink several times before shifting. "Enjolras?"
The revolutionary leader groaned and curled up tighter, doing his best to ignore the taller man.
"Enjolras? You'll have to get up… You have to meet-"
The blond man shot up, blue eyes wide as if just coming from a nightmare. He looked around widely before coming to a dead stop and his entire body going rigid. "Grantaire."
The drunkard couldn't find a way to respond. It hadn't been a question, he was sure, but he wasn't sure that he was supposed to respond to it either. Those blue eyes – still slightly puffy from exhaustion and tears – were back to their icy state, staring coldly at him and he was anything but the weeping child he'd been a couple of hours before. Apollo sat before him once more.
Grantaire realized he was staring dumbly as Enjolras untangled himself from the blanket that had been draped across his shoulders and stumbled to his feet, his arm held loosely around his midsection, a pained expression on his fair features. The dark haired man watched him move from the room without a word. His actions had said everything that his words had not: Never say anything about it. It never happened. Enjolras is and always will be a statue for the Republic.
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"Take a look at that!" Gavroche gawked as they came closer to the palace. "I never seen anythin' like it!"
Enjolras glanced out of the corner of his eye at the boy, a smile perking his lips. He'd allowed the child to tag along with them that morning with the excuse that he could represent the youth of the streets at the meeting. He had no real excuse for Grantaire's presence at his left shoulder.
"I suppose I've never seen it quite so close," Combeferre murmured from Enjolras' right.
The revolutionary leader grunted his response and moved past the guards, each of them nodding their greeting to him. He frowned at the recognition he was receiving and finally stepped up to the door where one guard held his gun to him. "What's your business?" he asked, eyebrow raised at the odd party.
Enjolras supposed they did look odd. Combeferre looked exhausted, his spectacles halfway slipped down his nose and his hair, while pulled back, looked as if it had just barely been tamed. He still had a nasty gash that was just now healing that stretched from the top of his right cheekbone to the edge of his mouth. Grantaire looked as unkempt as he always did with his hair only loosely pulled back and face not fully shaved and yet no real beard upon it. Then there was Gavroche who was an oddity amongst his elder companions. Lastly there was Enjolras himself: thinner than usual, paler than usual, and generally sickly looking, but there he stood with a defiant look in his crystal eyes. "To meet with the king."
"Oh," the guard sneered. "The revolutionaries. Did you enlist children as well?"
"Open the door."
"Win one small battle and you own the whole palace now, do you?"
Enjolras fixed his glare on the man. "We have precious little time to discus things. In case you haven't been out: the streets are in chaos. We need to speak with-"
"Alright!" the guard boomed, letting a frustrated grunt escape and he stepped aside.
Enjolras pushed the doors open to find, not the king as he had expected, but a man he very much knew. His eyes narrowed. "We came to speak to the king."
Bouvet, who had been speaking with the tall, grey-blond haired man, stepped aside, bowing slightly and looking upset over their previous conversation. The man stepped forward, a condescending smile on his lips and he stretched out his arms in a welcoming motion. "Alexis."
Grantaire and Gavroche exchanged glances and noticed that Combeferre had the same glare plastered on his face as Enjolras did.
"Father," Enjolras hissed. "We came to speak to the king."
"His Majesty has more important things to do than meet with the likes of you," M. Enjolras said, his voice holding no different of a tone than if he had been speaking of the weather.
"His Majesty," his son growled out through gritted teeth, "should have thought better than to order us there if that is the case."
"His Majesty did not." There was a shrug of his slim shoulders. "I did."
"Excuse a man's stupidity," Grantaire grumbled, "but who the hell are you and where do you get off bringing us here like this?"
"He's Nicolas Enjolras," Combeferre said in a tight voice. "Enjolras' father by birth and a perfect royal pain in any situation by action. Haven't you done enough?"
"Hello to you too, Etienne," Nicolas Enjolras greeted him. "You've become more vocal. Should I blame Alexis for that? He always had a way of bringing out the worst in people. Look at what happened yesterday, hmm? I hear that that boy was beheaded and you were right there, Alexis. Did nothing to stop your people?"
"Enjolras did all he could," Bouvet – who had been all but forgotten by every other person present - said quietly and almost timidly from his place.
"He did, did he? Obviously not enough, and I'd say that if you weren't even able to handle a small crowd, Alexis…"
"You're highly ranked, Father, but I'm not fool enough to think that you have the power to do much other than whisper into the king's ear."
"I've been promoted and put in charge of all of this. You will be dealing with me."
Combeferre groaned. "Joy."
"You would do well, Monsieur Combeferre, to remember this is no longer the small, country setting in which you were accustomed to meeting me in before. This place has structure, unlike what you people deal with."
The young med student glared, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a huff. This would not do well at all.
"So," Nicolas Enjolras said pleasantly, "shall we begin our talks?"
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"That was the most boring thing ever," Gavroche complained.
"Then don't come next time," Grantaire growled irritably. He cuffed the boy lightly across the back of the head and turned his attention back to Enjolras. The smaller student had spent most of the meeting with his fist clench and growing paler and paler, beads of sweat now visible on his ashen face. The drunkard had been watching him carefully since they'd left and caught him twice as he stumbled. "Enjolras?"
"I'm alright," came the expected reply.
"You don't look it."
Enjolras flashed a quick, unexpected smile. "I'm tired, Grantaire, as I highly suspect you are."
He was tired, Grantaire realized suddenly, but he'd be the last to admit it. "I'm doing good enough," he grumbled.
"The both of you need more rest than you've had," Combeferre complained as he turned the key in the lock. The door swung open and Marius all but pounced on them.
"You! What took you all so long!"
The med student blinked in surprise. "Another one that doesn't know the meaning of bed rest!" he muttered, tone exasperated. He pushed past Marius and fell onto the pallet he'd made for himself on the floor, curling up and looking perfectly miserable.
Marius looked back at the other who were still coming inside. "What happened to him…?"
"No one listens to him," Grantaire answered with a grin. "How you been?"
"Better, much better," the dark haired youth said with a smile. "But, Enjolras, just the man I've been waiting for! I have news to tell you, had to sneak out of Monsieur's house to get here… Quite a feat with an arm in a sling, but… Are you alright?"
Enjolras was leaning heavily against the doorframe and he barely nodded, moving in a couple of feet before collapsing to his knees. Combeferre was off his pallet in an instant and Grantaire was at his other side. Courfeyrac, Feuilly, and Joly moved in to form an outer circle around them with Marius too.
"I'm…"
"You're not 'all right,' do you hear me?" Combeferre growled, turning the blond over and tugging at his shirt. "Give me some room, will you?" he snapped at Grantaire. Long, skillful fingers moved his friend's vest aside and began to pull at the undershirt. Several of the stitches had pulled. "You are most certainly not all right."
Enjolras had relaxed slightly, head turned away from his medical friend and eyes closed. His breath was coming in slight gasps every time that Combeferre's hands brushed his torso.
"Joly, Courfeyrac, help me get him into the bed," Combeferre ordered quietly. He turned his eyes up to Marius. "Whatever you had to say will have to wait."
Marius nodded dumbly as three of his friends lifted the fourth and carried him into the next room.
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"Papa! He's gone, Papa!"
Jean Valjean looked up from his book, calm eyes locking with his daughter's frantic ones. "Who's gone, my dear?"
"Marius!"
Valjean smiled. "Oh yes… I'm not surprised."
"Then you know where he's gone?"
"I should hope not."
"Why not?"
"Then we would have to turn him over to Javert's father, and that's something that no one wants. Your Marius will be safe, Cosette. He's a bright boy with a loyal heart. Though not only to his friends. He'll come back to you."
The young woman flung herself into her father's arms, sobbing. "But why wouldn't he tell me, Papa?"
"Have some faith in him, Cosette," Valjean murmured as he stroked her hair and prayed silently that he was putting his own faith securely in the boy.
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Enjolras struggled back to consciousness, his icy blue eyes fluttering open ever so slightly. He forced himself to focus on the voices. The first was Combeferre, he was sure, and was the second Marius?
"Are you absolutely sure?"
"I swear to it."
"I always knew he was up to no good," Combeferre grumbled, voice tight with hatred.
"Who?" Enjolras croaked as he forced himself to sit up.
"Later. When you're well. Enjolras, you must lie down!" the other said ugently.
"I won't be well for some time. Tell me now."
The young med student bit his lip, frustration written in his eyes. He pulled his glasses from his nose and turned away. "Bouvet is untrustworthy."
"Of course," Enjolras murmured, falling back to his pillow. "How is this news?"
"No, he's out against you," Marius argued. "Hired by your father."
"That's absurd. My father is an ambitious, evil man, but even he wouldn't be that foolish. He'd be making us into martyrs."
"Your father has always been a clever man," Combeferre murmured. "He could find a way to turn anything to his advantage. Even so far as taking France under his control."
"Now that is stretching it!" the blond huffed.
"Don't be blind, Enjolras," his friend snapped. "You of all people know the lengths your father will go to get what he wants and you can't deny that he would be willing to take the throne if it were given to him. Perhaps even work for it a bit."
Enjolras knit his eyebrows in thought, mind racing. His father… It was a stretch, but he might be able to see it. "We shall have to be wary. If this is all true then he'll be out for our blood soon."
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Tay-kun: Wow thanks! I was really scared about that one! I've been wanting to write it for so long I was afraid it'd turn out terribly! Glad you liked it!
Melissa Bradybuck: Haha! Yay for Enjolras/Grantaire fluff without slash! Gotta love it… Thanks so much! Glad you liked the chapter!
Precious Angel: Beware, I'm fast at random times. Other times I'm too busy/have writer's block. Very sad….
Barricade Girl: Finding stories at 3 in the morning is always fun. Thanks so much for reading it and I'm glad you like it:feeds your addiction:
Caligirl-HPLVR: Yeah, poor guy… I debated back and forth on if to do it to him or to have him save the boy, but it needed to be done for the emotional level… And, of course, Nicolas Enjolras can and will use it to his advantage. Evil man that he is….
A Little Fall of Rain: I know, isn't Enjolras great:huggles: I've been studying St Just lately and I'm starting to think that Hugo took some of his traits for Enjolras, but just made him better. He's not QUITE as coldhearted as our lovely St Just…. Right? I certainly hope not….
NothingTouLouse: Wow! Glad it was so powerful! I was aiming for that!
Mizamour:blushes: Nah… I'm not that good. My stories write themselves. I'm just along for the ride like everyone else.
Tsunami Wave: Yup! Grantaire to save the day!