Author's Note: Another one! You may have guessed by now that every distinct part of this story will be narrated from the points of view of two related characters. We are, of course, currently with the doctors.

20.

Hurting to heal is at the heart of the medical profession. Combeferre, a man prone to contemplation, has sometimes thought about the similarities between his chosen field and the work he has done in the name of his ideology. In medicine, as in revolution, getting better is usually an elusive promise of the future and it is only very rarely that progress can be achieved without an amount of pain and unpleasantness – often some losses too. You go and cut people, hurt people, make them ill with some new concoction, all the time prophesizing a better future for them. They can believe you or not. If they don't, you feel like Cassandra. If they do, they do so with innocent faith because you are the one who knows things. And then all of the responsibility is yours.

Enjolras is a special case though. He understands. He understands the future has a price and he understands that one must fight for it even if there is little chance of getting there. That does make a difference, makes Combeferre's burden a little lighter.

Combeferre is thinking this in order to both distract himself and focus, while Joly is concentrating on getting the needle in without tearing an adhesion. They have planned this very carefully and Combeferre has ultimately decided to assist while Joly performs the operation itself. It is not out of cowardice. Someone has to watch the patient, keep him still and look out for the tell-tail signs that something is wrong while the surgeon is busy. Combeferre has opted to do this job for a reason. Enjolras is sometimes difficult to read and no one would be able to tell better than him if his friend is in real danger. He has also done his best to keep the operation a secret in fear of attracting a crowd of doctors, medical students and even journalists. The procedure is new, experimental, and there will be curiosity. For everyone's good, and most of all Enjolras's, he does not want to risk too much interest. There is also the matter of Enjolras being a former revolutionary. Joly has not yet hired a nurse and they know that letting in someone from outside may be dangerous – whether because of incompetence or because someone may hold a grudge against their patient – so Combeferre decides there will be no outsiders present. This may be too paranoid but he is unwilling to take any chances while his friend is so vulnerable. There are however two other people in the room – Martine and Feuilly. Both have been picked for their level-headedness. Feuilly is helping in keeping Enjolras still and Martine is standing by, ready to pass or bring anything which may be needed. Enjolras has his eyes closed and is tense but mostly immobile through the majority of the procedure, until the moment when the needle pierces the pleura. Joly warns them with a look before he plunges it in and they are prepared for the sudden jerk.

"Almost done," Combeferre mutters without being quite sure whose comfort he is saying it for. He has his eyes wide open for anything worrisome. There is such a great list of things that could go wrong. The needle could go too far, an adhesion could be torn or the second lung may not be able to compensate for the collapsed one, not to mention the threat of infection but that is a concern for later on. He notes with some small relief that while Enjolras's breathing becomes more labored when his left lung collapses, it is not to the point of suffocation. Combeferre follows the proceedings carefully as Joly finishes up and covers the wound.

"It will scar," the younger doctor mutters.

Enjolras doesn't quite manage a snort but it is clear he would have liked to as he opens his eyes to look at them. Combeferre answers him with a small smile. "Your main concern, I know," he says.

There should be a decrease of tension in the room now that it is over but no one seems to really relax. Enjolras is still in pain and the rest of them do not know what to expect. With an established procedure they would have some idea of how well it has gone but with this new method there is little to compare to. They move Enjolras to a bed so he can rest, even though he starts insisting that he feels well enough to get up and go home fairly quickly. Combeferre silences him as the other three leave the room – Joly to compose himself, Martine to bring them food and Feuilly to tell their friends how it has gone. Everyone is gathered at Courfeyrac's again, waiting for news. Combeferre is grateful that they have not decided to come and wait in front of the door – there has been enough pressure without that.

He hesitates, trying to decide if Enjolras would rather be left alone to recuperate for a while. He is after all a somewhat private man and may not enjoy company in this state. In the end though, he cannot tear himself away. He sits down next to the bed. Enjolras opens his eyes again.

"Do not distress yourself," he says, "it is really quite pointless. And I feel fine."

"But… you are comfortable?" Combeferre asks. "Not in too much pain? Not getting too little air or…"

"I am as comfortable as might be expected, maybe more than is strictly necessary, considering that I don't think I actualy require a bed. I am managing a conversation with you so that must be an indication that I am doing well. In fact…" He props himself up. "I would rather enjoy speaking to you from a less horizontal position, seeing that I am fully capable of it."

Combeferre fusses with the covers a little to conceal his nerves before he speaks again. "If you are going to strain yourself only for the purpose of not showing me any weakness, I will have to leave to make sure I am not the reason for you not getting any rest."

The corners of Enjolras's mouth twitch slightly as he obediently relaxes against the pillow and closes his eyes again. "You are not bothering me, Combeferre. And I am afraid you will soon witness plenty of weakness from me, regardless of my desires on the matter. Not that you have never seen me weak in the past. As I said before, do not trouble yourself. I am among friends, among comrades, and few things could make me feel this much better. And since a born scientist has done so much to help the revolution, perhaps a born revolutionary could try to aid science in this small way. I do not mind being an experiment in this case."

"Please, don't speak of it like that…" Combeferre shifts uncomfortably and changes the subject. "You are certain you do not want us to tell your parents of the operation?"

"I am certain."

"May I ask why? They would want to know that their only son…"

"I am indeed their only son. As such, I risk being the focus of too much well-intended but perhaps ill-advised attention. You know I despise lying but in this case I find it necessary to withhold some information for the time being. They would put Joly and you under too much pressure if they knew what we were doing."

Combeferre shakes his head. "Joly and I? Perhaps you should worry less about us and more about your own well-being."

"Perhaps my well-being depends on my doctors not having to fight my relatives in order to do their job."

"It is your decision."

"Yes, it is."

"It will be difficult to keep it from them. You know, they came to talk to me once already and I understand they have spoken to Joly as well. They know we are treating you."

"I will try to discourage them from such visits but if you feel you must tell them, then do so. I prefer not to volunteer the information."

Combeferre nods. There is silence for a while but it is more thoughtful than uncomfortable. They have gotten used to each other's company long ago and are now only getting reacquainted with the feeling of each other's presence. Combeferre wants to talk. Even more than that, he wants to listen. And he doesn't know how to initiate either.

"Enjolras…" he begins at last. "You know I wish to help as a friend, not only as a doctor…"

Enjolras studies him through half-opened eyelids for a moment. "You wish to cure my mind and soul if you cannot cure my body, is that it?" The question contains no trace of sarcasm.

"I wish it, yes. As much as it is within my capabilities. I will do everything. I feel sometimes… I feel that you are protecting us. Me. Comforting us instead of the other way around. I will not demand that you confide in me but I insist on you knowing that you can, should you feel the need."

"It is always harder on those left behind, Combeferre."

"From the point of view of a dead man, perhaps, but you are alive."

Enjolras considers this. "It would give me comfort to know that my disease is causing as little distress as possible. In this way, I am thinking about myself when I am trying to make sure you do not fret more than necessary. It is no sacrifice. Just like organizing a revolution was no sacrifice. I deserve no sympathy for either. But it seems that you will not be at peace unless you are troubled." He smiles slightly again. "I am not sure what you expect to hear. I am not afraid. But I am sad. One can hardly help it. There is much I wish to see and do which I will not have the chance to. It saddens me that my parents and friends will miss me. I worry what effect my death will have on various people and I dread the path that will lead to it – but then, I don't believe that is something anyone would look forward to. It is not the pain but the weakness and helplessness that I really hate to think about."

Combeferre swallows and takes a long breath. His throat has tightened but he refuses to give in to the impulse to cry. It would hurt Enjolras to see him so upset and if Enjolras himself can hold it together for the sake of his friends, then his friends must do the same for his sake.

"It is not over yet," Combeferre says finally. "So let us think of the fight ahead and not of what the end may be. This war may yet have a battle or two for us to win. And who knows? Grantaire travelled to America for you so anything must be possible."

Enjolras chuckles. "Indeed."

"Have you decided what you will do about the king? He made it clear to me the invitation for you to meet him was a request and not a command."

"I will see him. He has a good reputation. You yourself have said, I think, that he is a man of some vision and ideals and that the throne has not yet corrupted him."

"He is, as far as I have come to know him, an excellent and very clever man. I admit my emotions are mixed. He is doing some good work. The country is not exactly thriving but the people are less angry and they trust him. However, the fact that he is so popular means that there is unlikely to be another revolution soon."

"It will come."

"Perhaps. Surely. Do you never despair?"

"I do sometimes. But only at my personal inability to bring the future about. And yet where one man fails, the people will not fail. It will come. And I won't grieve for not being here to see it. Because I have seen it already, Combeferre. I see it every time I close my eyes."

And I see it every time you open them, Combeferre thinks. Indulging an impulse this time, he bends down to kiss his friend on the forehead. "Then keep them closed for now but don't stay in the future too long. You are still required in the present."

Leaving his friend to rest, Combeferre exits the room and goes to search for Joly. No one else is quite in their position but at least they can draw comfort from each other.

End Note: Thank you for reading and also thank you to all the people who have favourite and followed this story, not to mention everyone who have commented. Reviews are the fuel which keeps a writer going.