Part Ten: A Morning's Studies

Wolf is there again the next morning.

Cosette smiles as he bounds up to her, his tail wagging furiously, his tongue lolling from his mouth. Never mind that he shouldn't be here. Never mind that it's impossible, that he shouldn't have been able to get through the gate. Never mind that his eyes are the exact same shade as his master's.

She's happy to see him, and solving the mysteries can wait for a little bit.

Setting the bowl of food down for him, she retreats just a step, her arms crossed in front of her. She wants to pet him. She wants to play with him, as they did yesterday.

She wants him to answer her questions, to explain what's happening.

Wolf stares up at her with his too-human eyes, his tongue once more scraping the bowl clean of even a trace of food. Reaching down tentatively, ready to retreat at the slightest hint of a growl or showing of his teeth, she strokes the fur between his ears.

Would a normal dog stand still for this? Would a normal dog be so patient and kind with her? She doesn't know, and it irks her to be unable to either add his behavior to the list of mysteries or dismiss it as normal.

"I will find out what's going on, Monsieur Wolf." She murmurs the words, continuing to tease at his soft ears as they flick back and forth. "There is something odd about you and your master, and I won't stop until I've determined what it is."

Wolf slinks back from her, his ears flat against his head, a low whine rising from his throat.

"Oh…" Pulling her hand back to her chest, Cosette stares in concern at the suddenly cowering creature before her. What has she done to frighten or upset him so? "Wolf? What is it?"

Wolf continues to whine low in his throat, his body held close to the ground, his eyes peering at her imploringly.

"Wolf… I'm not going to hurt you or your master." Extending her hand again, she crouches down to peer into his eyes. "No matter what I find, I swear, I've no intention of hurting him or you."

Wolf continues to watch her warily, though he at least stops making that terrible noise. Stretching her fingers out, she inches her way forward until she can stroke the side of his face again.

"There we go." Scratching behind his ear causes Wolf to relax, turning his head away from her. "There's a good Wolf. No need to fear, my beautiful creature. No need to fear me, you silly thing. I give you food."

Stretching his front legs forward, Wolf huffs out a sound that could have been a sigh. Bounding away from her, he picks up a stick and turns towards her with his ears pricked enquiringly.

Holding out her hand and standing, Cosette smiles fondly at the beast. "All right. Just for a little bit, it's colder out than it was yesterday, but let's play for a while."

XXX

Grantaire wakes to the same chaos as the day before, but he remembers more clearly where he is despite the fact that his head is pounding. It really isn't fair that his head's hurting more when he didn't drink much than it usually does after he drinks a great deal. Shifting back to his human form, he rubs at his temples and blinks blurry eyes until the den comes back into focus.

"Oh, good, you're up." Joly sounds far too cheerful for how early in the morning it is. He looks far too cheerful as Grantaire forces his eyes to focus on the other male's face. "If you could get dressed fairly quickly, I'd appreciate it. I need to be heading in to class in about twenty minutes."

"So I'm going to class again?" Clearing his throat, Grantaire stands slowly. "Are you sure it wouldn't be better to just leave me here?"

"Quite sure." Joly's hand on his shoulder is gentle, and Grantaire doesn't mind that it tips his head down into a submissive position. "You need to get to know more of the city. You need to get a feel for our schedules and for who is and who isn't our ally. Besides, I would very much like to have a chance to talk with you and get to know you better before I have to vote on whether I want you as a member of the pack or not."

"Right." Grantaire smiles, trying to keep the expression from having a bitter edge. At least Joly's under no delusions about whether or not Grantaire will ask for admission to join the pack. "I should get dressed, then."

"Grantaire." Joly's hand falls on his arm again, stopping him from heading toward the stairs. The wolf's brows are drawn together in concern, and his voice sounds stronger, somehow, more certain than it usually does. "Did something happen? Are you not feeling well?"

"My head hurts." It's true, even if it's not the reason that he's being poor company. Or not the only reason, at least.

"How badly?" Between one breath and the next Joly has managed to shove him back down into a sitting position and has turned his head back toward the fire. "You're not feverish. You have quite the bruise on your face, but your eyes are still reacting properly. Where's the pain localized? When did it start? Do you have any other odd feelings—any numbness, has your vision been odd at all?"

"Joly." Musichetta's voice cuts through Joly's stream of questions. Wrapping his arms around his mate from behind, the female bites gently at Joly's throat. "He's not dying. He just has a headache."

"You can't ever be sure of that." Relaxing back against his mate, Joly releases his hold on Grantaire to reach up and grasp hold of Musichetta. "If you don't ask questions, you can miss important illnesses."

"Grantaire." Musichetta raises one eyebrow, peering at him around Joly's shoulder. "Are you dying?"

"Not unless you count dying for a drink." Smiling in turn, Grantaire runs a hand through his hair, trying to straighten it out. "Or unless your pack has designs on killing me, but given Joly's apparent concern for my health I very much doubt that."

"If you hurry you can grab a drink before you have to leave." Musichetta gives a sympathetic smile. "It may help with your headache."

"I'll take you up on that offer." Inclining his head, Grantaire edges his way past the two more dominant wolves. "I'll be down in a moment."

It doesn't take him long to dress. He only has one set of clothing still. Thanks to Badeau it's a set that received a very good cleaning yesterday to remove the traces of blood, so Grantaire shrugs into the clothing without a second thought. If he's going to stay with this well-dressed pack, he should probably purchase another set of clothes. That's something he can discuss with Jehan or Courfeyrac or one of the others later, though.

Joly and Courfeyrac are chatting when he comes back downstairs. Musichetta offers him a glass of wine, and he downs it in one swallow. Sighing in appreciation, he hands the glass back to the dominant female. "Thank you. You show an old stray great mercy."

"I show a soon-to-be pack member kindness. It's no more than most wolves would do. Besides, you'll be looking after Joly for me today."

"Ah…" Grantaire shakes his head, ducking his chin down low. "He'll be doing the looking after, I'm quite sure."

"We'll see. Just try to enjoy yourself today, Grantaire. And remember that if anyone gives you trouble, you're under our protection." Musichetta brushes against his arm, a comforting gesture, before once more moving to and embracing Joly.

"Grantaire."

Grantaire freezes at the sound of that voice—so simple and yet so commanding, even without any alpha power behind it—on his name. Turning slowly, he feels his heart both soar and drop as he responds properly to Enjolras, his head inclining, his chin tilting slightly to expose his neck. Enjolras is very simply dressed, in a rumpled white shirt and black pants that look like the clothes he was wearing yesterday. His blond hair is also sleep-tousled, and Grantaire realizes once more how utterly, unearthly handsome this pack's alpha is.

"Relax today." Enjolras pads forward on silent, unshod feet to touch Grantaire's arm. "I know you've been under a great deal of stress trying to adjust to our pack. What happened with Badeau yesterday shouldn't have, and I'll be sure to discuss it with him when next we meet. But for today, just take some time to really get to know the pack and what we do. All right?"

Grantaire nods, all of his attention focused on the small spot where Enjolras' fingers touch him. When it's clear that Enjolras wants more of a reaction, he forces his tongue to move, though the words come out in a whisper. "All right."

Enjolras frowns, just slightly, and glances toward Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac bounds away from Joly and throws his arm around Grantaire's shoulders. "Now, run along, my little stray. Joly hates to be late, and I'm sure you're going to learn a great deal of fascinating information at his classes. Just do try not to eat any of the bodies. It's rather difficult to explain, even as a prank or a dare."

Grantaire stares at the higher-ranked wolf, an expression of horror slowly working its way across his face as his brain processes the information. "Wait, what bodies?"

There's no reply but a smile and a wave from Courfeyrac as he shoves Grantaire towards Joly and the door.

Joly takes his arm, pulling him out the door and towards the street, and Grantaire realizes that it's far too late to protest. With a soft sigh, he gives in and follows the other male stoically, trying not to imagine what he might have to suffer through this morning.

There's a good chance that he'll find these classes more comprehensible than poetry, at least.

XXX

Cosette chases Wolf about the garden, ducking around and under branches, laughing breathlessly at his antics as he dances first one way and then another. It's so easy to entertain the great dog! He seems happy just to be in her company, and any time she actively interacts with him it seems to send him into paroxysms of doggy mirth that are delightful to watch.

Chasing him around the garden and allowing him to chase her grants her time to examine the garden without making him nervous. It's during one of these romps that she notices the clothing, hidden more carefully and cleverly today than it had been yesterday.

She doesn't pause in her dash around the bush, not giving Wolf any sign that she's seen the clothes. She thinks she recognizes them, though, even from just a cursory glance.

Why are Marius' clothes in her garden again?

Why is Marius' dog in her garden again?

She doesn't know how, but she's determined that she's going to get answers from him the next time she sees him.

XXX

Grantaire stares down in horrified fascination at the body displayed in front of them. The room that they're in is more like a theatre than the classrooms that he saw with Jehan yesterday, with rows of chairs banking up and a stage with a large chalkboard taking up the front of the class. In front of the chalkboard is an older man, perhaps forty or fifty, and in front of the man is the remains of a human who probably stopped breathing several days ago. The cold has preserved his body nicely, and there isn't too much of a scent of rot to him, but Grantaire can taste the odor of old meat starting to build even over the stink of all the humans surrounding them.

The professor gestures down at the corpse in front of him. "As you can see, the cold has done a remarkable job of preserving the body after death, even as it caused great damage prior to death. The digits—"

Swallowing hard, Grantaire turns from the body to Joly, who is currently frowning and scribbling down notes in a small book. He keeps his voice down when he talks, not wanting to draw attention to his presence, somehow certain that he really, really shouldn't be here. "Is this… normal?"

Joly glances up at him, and a look of chagrin crosses his face. "It happens frequently, when they have interesting things to show us. I'm sorry, Grantaire. Normally there are fewer bodies in the middle of the week than at either end—people seem most eager to murder each other at the start and end of the week, at least, though they die of other causes often enough. I would have warned you if I thought there would really be bodies. You're not feeling too hungry, are you?"

"I know better than to eat a man in front of other humans, Joly." Grantaire tries to keep the indignation out of his voice but doesn't entirely succeed. Just because he's a stray doesn't mean he's an idiot. "Besides, your pack's been feeding me well, better than I deserve, really. I'm not starving and desperate for meat. I'm not going to jump down there are start eating the frozen man."

"Good." Joly turns back to the professor currently gesticulating with one of the dead man's hands. "Because we're going to open the abdomen shortly, and Courfeyrac was right that it would be very awkward to explain why you ate a man's liver in front of the medical class."

Grantaire sighs, rocking back on his heels and closing his eyes.

He can already tell that this is going to be a very, very long day.

XXX

Joly watches the stray bite into his steak with a sigh that seems to come from every corner of his body. Smiling slightly, Joly takes a bite of his own sandwich before initiating conversation. "I really am sorry about the surprise cadaver. I'm glad that they do it, because the only way to really learn medicine is to see it, but I'm sure it can be… disorienting and confusing to someone who isn't used to it."

"'s all right." Grantaire takes another large bite before downing his entire drink in one long swallow. "I don't mind. It was rather fascinating, I suppose. I didn't realize how much humans could tell from a corpse even without a good sense of smell. It would be far easier for them if they could smell like we can, but their ingenuity constantly surprises me."

"Sometimes it's easier." Joly stares into his own drink for a moment. "With the dead ones it's easier for us. With live ones, or with corpses that have been dead for a very long time… sometimes having our senses isn't as helpful as it seems like it should be."

"I'm sorry, Joly. I didn't think." The stray lowers his fork and knife, chagrin filling his features. "I suppose it would be difficult to smell and hear so much better in a human hospital. Why do you…?"

"Because I want to help them." Raising his eyes, Joly studies the stray as he speaks, watching the male's reactions. "I want to be able to help our people, and I want to be able to help the humans, as well."

"Does it actually help our people?" Grantaire frowns, tilting his head to the side. After a moment too long he inclines his head and his eyes in a submissive posture. "Aren't there differences between us?"

"There are. There's quite a few differences, especially with regards to our Changed forms, and I've also gotten a fair amount of useful information from animal caretakers and from older wolves. Some things that are toxic to humans are safe for us; some things that are safe for us are very toxic to humans. And we are, overall, harder to kill than most humans. Especially if we're able to Change or if we have an alpha there to lend us power, our bodies can heal faster and much more efficiently from wounds that would kill a human."

"So why bother with medicine?" There's genuine curiosity rather than censure or disdain in Grantaire's voice.

"Because I don't want to be helpless." Joly can feel his fingers tightening on his own silverware as he considers the events that led him to be here. "What if there isn't an alpha around? What if there's silver in the wound, and the wolf can't Change? What if the alpha is too worn and weary to heal any more?"

"I would hate to be there if Enjolras were too weary to heal his wolves." Grantaire murmurs the words, a hint of horror in his expression.

And Joly is suddenly a child again, a pup sitting at his father's side, and he understands what it means as the alpha turns away from his father. He understands, instinctively, what the scent of rot already emanating from his father's stomach means, though his human mind flinches away from the knowledge. The alpha will fix things. The alpha will heal it. Even if the bullet is silver—and what humans used silver bullets anymore, really, who believed the old tales—between his mother and the alpha everything will be all right.

But his mother had collapsed hours before, though her fingers are still curled around his father's, and the alpha's face is drained of color and covered in sweat, and Joly feels his own voice rise with the rest of the pack's as they cry his father into the hands of the black night.

Maybe it would have been different if they could have called a doctor to remove the bullet. Maybe it would have been different if they had a surgeon on hand, someone they could trust, someone who wouldn't be surprised to see fur sprout and fade as his father's body tried and failed repeatedly to Change.

"Joly?" Grantaire's hand is calloused and warm as it slides overtop of Joly's. "I am sorry if I brought up old wounds. Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive." Joly smiles at Grantaire, impressed once more with the stray's concern for offense dealt to others. "I lost my father as a child. I know better than to over-estimate an alpha's power. And though I've no doubt that Enjolras would do all in his power to save us, I would much prefer we not have to put that kind of toll on his body and mind, especially not if there is something I can do to try to assist him. Besides, if Paris rises in rebellion, there will be humans standing and falling beside us. They have no alpha to call on. Do we simply watch our allies die?"

"It's better than what some wolves would do with a human bleeding at their side." Grantaire raises his hands to ward off any protest at his black humor, a smile on his face. "All jesting aside, though, I think it a worthy cause, if not one that many wolves would be able to weather."

"We'll see how well I weather it." Joly takes another bite of his sandwich, trying to shake off the worst of the memory. "Bossuet and Musichetta say that it's making me more paranoid. I say that a bit of paranoia can be a very fine thing."

Grantaire finishes his second drink, setting it down with a satisfied sigh. "How did you meet them?"

"Oh, now that may be a long story." Blushing slightly, Joly decides that it's easier to stare at his food than at the stray.

"Tell me however much of it you'd like." Settling his chin in his hand, Grantaire gives a bright grin. "Enjolras told me to get to know the pack. I'm quite certain that there's a fascinating story in how he collected all of you."

"We actually approached him." A smile spreads across Joly's face as he remembers their first meeting with the strange new alpha. "We had already formed our trio, and it had resulted in all three of us being promptly evicted from the packs we were with at the time—Bossuet and I from my pack and Musichetta from his. I didn't mind too much—I had only been with them for a few months at that point, and Bossuet had only been with them for about two months—but it meant that the three of us were homeless and packless, and with only a month or so to go before fall came on. I… may have been a little worried about our ability to handle ourselves and our bonds during the fall without an alpha there to steady us. Bossuet was taking it rather well, saying that what happened would happen and we'd handle it as best we could, and Musichetta insisted that he could handle us and our bonds as an alpha would, which may very well have been true, but I…"

"You were panicking." Grantaire smiles, raising his eyebrows. "Right?"

"I may have begged him to take us." Joly knows that he's blushing, but he doesn't mind too much. "Even before I told him my name. He had Combeferre and Courfeyrac at that point, and I'd heard that he looked more kindly upon most differences than other alphas did. He was strong—well, you know that, but the way he took down Armand was legendary at the time. This young alpha came out of nowhere, barely eighteen and looking like a much less mature pup, and within two minutes he had Armand pinned to the ground and Armand's pack-bonds in his control. And what did he do? He gave them back to Armand, gave everything back to him, as long as Armand agreed to allow all wolves who wanted to use the university. It seemed like he was too good to be true, too impossible to actually be real, but I was already living the impossible, so…"

"How did he respond?" There's a yearning underlying Grantaire's tone, a sadness to his smile, and Joly feels a protective surge of affection for the stray.

Clearing his throat and his mind, pushing away the protective instincts that he's surprised to find he has, Joly smiles again as he remembers that day. "He told me to stand up and look at him. When I had, after a brief battle with my wolf because looking him in the eyes felt like the closest thing to human blasphemy I'd ever done, he asked me very gravely what my name was and who my two mates were. Then he asked me what my views on humanity were."

"What did you tell him?" There's an eagerness to Grantaire's question that makes Joly's heart fall, because he's not going to get the answer he needs from this story.

"I told him the truth." Joly speaks gently. "I told him that I was studying to be a doctor, and that I intended to treat both humans and wolves. I told him that Bossuet was studying law, and that part of his interest in law was an interest in ending oppression and the abuses of the criminal justice system, both as it damages humans and as it's a threat to our people. I told him Musichetta may have helped separate several rich humans from the notion that those with less money or power than them were there to be abused."

"Oh." Grantaire seems to wilt slightly. "So you were already strange even before—well, not strange per se, but—"

"We had ideas that didn't quite fit with the majority of wolves' opinions, yes." Joly reaches over to clasp Grantaire's forearm, a gesture of comfort. "Our ideas and opinions weren't nearly as well-formed then as they became after we joined Enjolras' pack, but it was easy enough for us to ally ourselves with his goals. Since then I think all of us have come to embrace his ideals quite happily, though Musichetta worries sometimes that we're going to find ourselves fighting more than even we can handle."

"Given how carefully your pack seems to plan and move, I find that highly unlikely." Biting into his steak with renewed vigor, Grantaire swallows a piece without chewing. Wincing slightly, he follows it up with a sip from his latest drink. Sometimes wolf instincts didn't work very well with human shapes. "Though I can see his worries, what with you making enemies with half of the wolves and humans in Paris."

"Are you sure that you wouldn't be happier with another pack, Grantaire?" Joly tries to ask the question gently, though he knows there's no gentle way to do so. "What we're doing… it's important work. It's something that needs to happen, for our people and for the humans. But it is dangerous. None of us will try to tell you otherwise."

"Even if another pack would take me—and that's a very large if—I don't want to join any other pack." Grantaire pauses, his eyes on the table, his hands clasping together. "I… like hearing you talk. I like being in a pack that cares so deeply about things. I like being with people who don't seem to be threatened by my oddities. I like your pack, Joly, and even if I can't say I'd die for your causes yet, I'll fight for you, for him, and maybe if I listen long enough I'll care enough to fight for your causes, too."

Joly nods, slowly, and reaches over again to clasp Grantaire's arm. "That's all any of us could ask of you, my friend."

Grantaire accepts the comfort, his fingers clasping Joly's arm fiercely for several long seconds before he lets go with a smile that still seems slightly bittersweet. "So how did you meet your mates?"

"Bossuet found me while I was courting Musichetta." Straightening, Joly smiles fondly as he thinks back on that first meeting. "He was wolf-shaped, slightly less mangy and fur-tattered than he seems now, but there were human children tormenting him. They'd managed to tie a bottle to his tail, and were poking him with sticks. He was tolerating everything with more aplomb than most wolves would have. After I chased the children away, I took him home with me. We were both still young enough that he wasn't much of a threat to the pack—a young stray, one who might want to join. There was a rather amusing and far-fetched tale that he had about ending up in that situation involving a cat, a milkmaid, a fire, and his clothing, so he had to borrow some of mine. From there…"

"Things just happened?" Grantaire's smile is far too knowing for someone who doesn't have a trace of a mate-bond in his scent.

"Things just happened. I introduced him to Musichetta, and the three of us just… fit. When I felt the mate-bond potential spring up with both of them…" Shaking his head, Joly sighs. "I was horrified. I didn't want to have to choose between the two of them. I didn't want to insult or drive one off by choosing the other. I just wanted the three of us to stay together, to be happy together the way that we had been."

"Was it your idea to try what you did?"

"No." Shaking his head, Joly gives a rueful smile. "It was Musichetta's idea. I was the one who was most worried about attempting something like we did. What if it failed? What if we did something terrible to each other? What if we made it impossible for us to properly mate-bond with anyone? What if we killed each other? There were so many unknowns…"

After a moment Grantaire prompts him to continue. "But you tried it anyway."

"They convinced me that the possible success was more than worth the risk. And it was." Joly closes his eyes, touching his bonds to each of his mates. After a moment they both reach back to him, Bossuet with playful joy, Musichetta with distracted affection. When he opens his eyes his sense of the bonds fades back, the other two wolves too far from him right now for their connection to be the bright, glorious thing it is at home. "I've never regretted bonding with both of them or joining Enjolras' pack."

For a moment Grantaire just stares at him, a look that manages to be both hungry and jealous and pleased for him all at once. Then the stray shakes himself, smiles, and eats the last of his steak. "I'm glad for you. And I hope that one day I'll be able to experience the same joy—at least the part about being happy with my pack. I very much doubt I'll find a mate at this point."

"Don't give up on it. Sometimes the world surprises you." The stray may be older than most wolves were when they found a mate, somewhere in his mid-twenties if Joly had to guess, but that didn't make it impossible.

Grantaire laughs. "Oh, the world does tend to surprise, just not usually in a way that I'd want it to. Now, what are we going to do this afternoon?"

"Mmm." Joly hesitates, considering. "Usually I spend the afternoon volunteering with a local physician when I don't have class. He's very talented, and he does a lot of work for the less affluent in the area. I think I've learned as much working with him as I have in class. It's not always a… pleasant experience, though, especially when there are cholera outbreaks or the like. You're welcome to come, but if you've already had your fill of the scent of death and dying…"

"I don't think I'd be of much help." Grantaire smiles, a self-deprecating grin. "Perhaps it would be better if I simply returned home, or stayed here."

"This is neutral ground. It should be safe enough for you to stay here. You may run into another wolf or two, but we're far enough from Badeau's territory that I expect they'll behave themselves." Standing, Joly reaches into his pocket and slides a coin across to Grantaire. "I can pick you up here when I'm done. Unless you remember the way home?"

Grantaire stares at the money as though it's a foreign object. "I remember the way. I'll be sure not to cause any more trouble for you. And you don't have to give me this. You've already been more than kind enough treating me to dinner."

"Keep it. Treat yourself to dessert, or to another drink, though try not to do anything that will reflect badly on Enjolras or the rest of us." Clapping Grantaire on the shoulder, Joly turns toward the door. "I'll stop by here before going home, and take you with me if you're still here. All right?"

"All right." Grantaire takes the coin as though it were the most precious thing he's ever received. "Thank you, Joly."

"Don't mention it." It's hard, not wrapping his arms around Grantaire, his head held above the submissive wolf's, protecting and sheltering him. He has to appear human here, though. He has to be worthy of the pack that he's in. Tightening his fingers on Grantaire's shoulder, he does what he can to send the submissive wolf a sense of peace and belonging. He's not sure it works, his weak magic and Grantaire's status as non-pack making it difficult, but he doesn't regret trying.

After talking with the stray, he's certain that when Grantaire asks to be pack his vote will be for acceptance. Even if Grantaire isn't as dedicated as they are, has been scarred by a life Joly can't even begin to imagine, he's kind and conscientious, entertaining and intelligent.

The rest they can teach him once he's one of them.