Chapter 21 – Loose Lips Sink Ships
"Nooooo! I'm helping."
"Hold on le petit home."
"Couf? Er I think you're-"
"Ouch! Damn-"
Jehan rubbed his temple and excused himself from the conversation he'd just started with the nurse at the admittance station. He should have known to just follow the chaos. Sooner or later he'd eventually find them.
Tentatively he peeled back a curtain to find dear Bossuet splayed across Courfeyrac's bed hopelessly tangled in a blood pressure cuff and IV tubing. Gavroche was squirming in Joly's arms trying to plaster Courfeyrac's face with strips of medical tape.
Musichetta stood in the corner of the curtained area frowning at her mobile.
Before Jehan had a chance to speak his boyfriend spotted him.
"JEHAN!"
"Hi there." He smiled, helping Bossuet to stand and untangle himself. "Does this belong to you?" Carefully he handed over Courf's IV line to Joly for inspection and listened as the medical student tsk-tsked Bossuet for his clumsiness.
"What happened lamb?" The poet asked, cautiously sitting on the edge of the bed.
Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "It's a looooooong play my flower. Look! They gave me wonderful medicine." He jabbed a finger at the needle taped to the crook of his elbow.
"Let's not touch it okay?" Jehan instructed, taking his boyfriend's hands in his own.
Musichetta scuffed the heels of her boots on the linoleum. "He's worse off then St. Patrick's day last year isn't he?" She mused.
"Honey, you didn't see him New Years our sophomore term." They shared a smile before Joly re-entered the space reeking of hand sanitizer.
"Is he making any sense?" He asked seriously.
"Not much." Jehan answered, sensing this wasn't the time joke.
"Good, someone from orthopedics can re-set his joints."
Jehan's heart leapt in his throat. "What happened to him?" His gaze darted between his friends. Joly gripped the back of his neck before falling in to a chair. 'Chetta's eyes filled with tears and Bossuet shuffled his feet and stared past him.
Only Gavroche leaned out of Joly's arms to pat him on the head. "You missed a lot Prouviere."
In the moment between sleep and consciousness everything Enjolras could feel amounted to pain. Every breath seized his ribs in agony. His muscles endured an endless series of spasms.
How did he get in to the hospital?
Pressure mounted and spread like wildfire through his backside.
His hands. Why couldn't he move his hands?
"Apollo? Wake up Enjolras, Enjolras…"
Grantaire squeezed his boyfriend's forearm. "Enjy, open your eyes. You're okay."
"Oof." He groaned, eyes closed tightly. "Why are you on top of me R?"
The shorter man blushed and retreated to the bedside chair. "You were having a nightmare or something."
"Oh." He nodded, "I hate sleeping so goddamn much." His hands balled in to fists and Grantaire sensed a lecture coming on.
"Hey! You only got out of surgery less than 24 hours ago." He snapped. As soon as the words left his mouth, the snake of guilt in his abdomen tightened. "Er. I mean, you should be resting. Think of what our med students would say."
Enjolras smiled at the thought of Joly fussing on him and relaxed in to the mattress. "Well, I suppose Combeferre could bring my laptop and I could finish editing my Tolstoy essay and write out the itinerary…" A yawn interrupted the leader's declaration and Grantaire snorted.
"Even leaders need their rest, Enjolras. Unless you actually are a superhero." Almost reverently R traced the edge of a plaster peeking out above the neckline of the hospital gown.
"Apollo?" He asked, lifting his gaze from the wound. Enjolras' face was set in determination. Even in sleep, his boyfriend had the world on his shoulders.
Grantaire settled in to the chair and folded his arms across his chest. The heart monitor beeped steadily and R tapped his foot, the beginnings of a plan coming together in his mind.
"Cosette?" A muffled voice called.
"In here!" She replied, leaping to her feet with a hand from Marius.
Dr. Valjean stepped in to the Ladies' bathroom hesitantly and only after warily eying Marius turned to his daughter.
"She's here Dad, but she's not." The blonde frowned and nibbled more of her thumbnail.
Her father rubbed his beard before bending down to get a better look at the dirty young woman rocking in the corner. "My God, she was here yesterday. She and another boy brought my patient to the A&E." He tapped the floor with a finger. "I didn't notice. God, Eponine and Grantaire isn't it? It's been years, years since I'd heard anything."
Cosette watched her father's epiphany with measured caution.
Oblivious to the careful balance, Marius attempted to connect the dots. "Hang on, you're the doctor that's been assigned to Enjolras, my friend, and you know 'Ponine too? But…this doesn't…I"
"Hush." His girlfriend soothed. She sank to the floor with her father and watched Eponine hum softly to herself. "We met about a year ago. Marius introduced us when we first started seeing each other. She works at Musichetta's café, where the meetings are held. It took a couple months before we realized we'd met before."
"After all this time." The older man shook his head. Cosette enveloped him in a hug and they embraced before they began to talk clinically about Eponine.
Marius watched in amazement as the tandem coaxed this scared creature inhabiting Eponine's body out of the corner.
"I knows you!" Not-Eponine squeaked, jamming her finger at Dr. Valjean.
He offered a warm smile and touched her nose. "Ah, what's your name dearie?"
"Mal." She answered, giggling. "You took my fwend away, she fly away wif you and I call her a lark. But you were nice and I like the hat you brung me."
Cosette gasped and she quickly had Marius' arms wrapped around her shoulders. He had learned about Cosette's time in foster care in increments. She didn't like to talk about it, but he knew she was haunted by her time with the Thenardiars.
"Cosette my dear, why don't you take Ep-er, Mal to the staff lounge? Perhaps you can draw on the whiteboard and get a snack."
His daughter disentangled herself from her boyfriend and guided Eponine to the bathroom door.
"Marius, I'd like to speak with you…alone."
Nodding, the young man blanched and leaned against the sink. "Yes sir."
Dr. Valjean gestured towards the door. "Perhaps my office would be more suitable?"
"Ah." Marius struggled with what to say. Everything he thought of sounded dumb and placating. No matter what language he said it in.
"Marius, I trust Cosette has told you about her childhood. I assume you can glean some of Eponine's past from your friend's group as well."
"Yes, I-I know it wasn't pleasant until you were able to take her away."
The doctor ushered the boy into his office and poured them each a cup of water. "I intended to rescue all of them, not just Cosette. Once I was able to have regular visitation with her, I began to understand what sort of business Thenardiar dealt in."
Marius swallowed thickly. Flashes of scars danced in front of his eyes. The taut and discolored skin around the top of Cosette's forearm was a scar that served as a constant reminder of a painful burn. The tip of an angry purple scar that peeked out from the skirts or shorts Eponine wore as the weather grew warmer. The white shiny scars that littered Grantaire's back when he could be convinced to join them for a swim or that could be seem when he boxed with Bahorel and Feuilly.
"I meant to come for Eponine, her sister, brothers, Grantaire and the others."
"What happened?" There was a hard edge of anger in Marius' usually mellifluous voice.
The doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in a Combeferre-like fashion. "The better question to ask, is who happened."
"The Paton-Minette." Marius answered and glared at the desk, feeling white-hot anger spread through his body. "There are some people you need to speak with sir."
Dr. Valjean eyed Marius curiously and waited for him to continue.
"Bloody hell." Bahorel growled, pacing the alley behind the A&E.
Feuilly lit his last cigarette and handed it off to his flat mate. "Here, you gotta calm down."
"Easy for you to say, you're a goddamn monk." He retorted and resumed pacing in tighter circles.
Combeferre finished wiping his glasses on the hem of his t-shirt and watched his friends. "We need to talk to Enjolras and R." When the guide spoke he rarely used as many words as Enjolras, but never as few as Feuilly did.
Bahorel snorted. "Yeah, how's that gonna go. Hey buddy, how're ya feeling? Heard you mighta been raped…wanna gab about it?" He mocked.
The guide paled and turned away from Bahorel.
"You arse." Feuilly shook his head. "That's not what he meant and you know it."
"Why didn't she fucking say anything?" Bahorel braced himself against the brick wall and half heartedly kicked at it.
"She's been hurt. For years she…and Grantaire have been…violated repeatedly. I can't imagine how…" Combeferre whispered in to his hands that were cupped around his mouth.
"Now they are fucking back. The Paton-Minette. Christ." Feuilly shook his head. His hands were shaking and he could use a cigarette. He'd cut back to one a day, but desperate times were calling.
He opened his mouth to ask Bahorel for a hit of nicotine just as he ground the butt in to the cobblestones.
Then he lost it. The thread that had held his sanity in place for the past couple of days snapped. He couldn't breathe. What the hell was the matter with him?
He found himself tackling Bahorel. Knuckles scraped against rough skin and they slammed against the ground. Adrenaline fueled the fight and they were deaf to Combeferre's protests.
When blood leaked from his nose and painted his lips Feuilly blinked and released his fists. Bahorel followed suit and took his arm away from his face and released his friend's shirt.
It started with smirk from Bahorel. He pointed at the blood mustache Feuilly had inadvertently smeared on his own face. Feuilly had flipped him off and flicked at what was sure to be a bruise on his forehead.
It ended with them leaning against the brick wall, laughing hysterically and cursing.
Combeferre eventually joined in relaying the play by play and offering a stupid grin every now and then.
The staff lounge was empty. Apparently surgeons were not likely to take breaks, much like Enjolras.
Cosette cleared a section of the table and set a small notepad and various writing implements in front of her friend.
"Would you like to draw with me Mal?" She asked, watching her twirl her hair nervously and draw her knees up to her chest in the plastic chair.
She nodded and grabbed pink highlighter.
"Okay." Cosette smiled. "I'll be right back."
"No!" Mal practically screamed, reaching out for her. "Pwease."
Cosette extended herself to reach her, but stopped when she flinched and sank deeper in to the chair away from her.
"Alright sweetheart, I won't go anywhere. But I do have to make a phone call okay? It's to my friend Jehan, I'd like him to come and play with us."
Mal nodded solemnly and added flowers to her picture.
Cosette blinked back tears and cleared her throat. "Jehan, where are you?"
Right. Courfeyrac was in the A&E getting his hand x-rayed and fingers splinted.
"Look, can you leave Gav with Joly, 'Chetta and Bossuet? I really need you up here."
Her voice cracked at the end of her request and Cosette noticed Mal's eyes widen in fright.
"Um, Eponine ah Mal and I are in the staff lounge on the surgical ward. I'll explain when you get here. Right, see you soon."
She turned to Mal and took a deep breath. "How about adding a puppy here? Next to your beautiful flowers!"
"Combeferre." Enjolras whispered, pointing to his boyfriend.
The guide shifted his gaze to the occupied hospital grade chair and saw a formidable looking R firmly sleeping with a furrowed brow.
"How are you?" He lowered his voice and settled his hands on the bedrails opposite to Grantaire.
Enjolras pursed his lips.
"You do need to rest."
"I hate the drugs 'Ferre. They cloud my mind and make it impossible for me to move." He raised his head and arms to enunciate his point and hissed in pain.
Combeferre smirked. "So, I take it you have not been using the morphine pump?"
Enjolras rolled his eyes and attempted to shift his position.
"Hey! Hey, hold on. Let me help you." The guide leaned over the bed and felt his friend stiffen and draw a sharp breath. In an instant his mind thought of the conversation he'd had with Feuilly and Bahorel a few minutes before.
"Where does it hurt?"
"I'm fine." The blonde leader muttered, keeping his body rigid and lips tight in a thin white line.
"Enjolras. Be reasonable, you need rest to heal and-"
"He's right Enjy." R unfolded himself from the chair and lovingly pushed his boyfriend's hair out of his eyes. "Just a little okay? We will be right here. 'Ferre and I won't leave."
Combeferre nodded and watched Grantaire get permission from the leader himself to take a dose of morphine.
Moments later, they watched as Enjolras' body relaxed in to the mattress and his breathing evened out. Only Grantaire's hand remained held tight against the tangle of sheets and tubes.
Combeferre respectfully clears his throat and waits for Grantaire to meet his eyes.
"There is something we need to talk about R."
Cosette bent over Gavroche and pecked the top of his head before sending him off to the cafeteria with Bossuet and Musichetta.
"How is she?" Joly asked, dispensing hand sanitizer from the automated machine by the door for the millionth time that day.
"She is dissociated. I don't know. My Dad thinks this…Mal is an alter. Another personality that split from Eponine because of all the shit that happened. She is young Joly, really young. 3 or 4 developmentally, judging from her fine motor skills. I don't know what to do with her. I want Eponine, but I know that this is normal with cases of severe trauma. She is my friend and not hypothetical or a case study and-and-"
Joly squeezed her shoulders. "Cosette! Take a deep breath. Everything will be fine. She will come back and front again yeah? That's the term for it I think." He trilled nervously.
"Right, you're right. Of course. Grantaire needs to know doesn't he? Jehan is in there with her now. I don't want to disturb him when he's with Enjolras though."
"We'll take it one step at a time. Why don't you introduce me?"
"Whadda you mean, she lost it?" Grantaire hissed.
Calmly Combeferre repeated the ladies' room incident.
"Jesus." He exhaled, running his hands through his hair. "Is she alright now?"
"Last I heard, Cosette and Marius were with her. The others were in the A&E with Courfeyrac."
"Has everyone completely lost their shit?!" He exclaimed in an exaggerated whisper. "This is the last thing I need, the fucking Paton-Minette is back, he almost died…"
Combeferre snapped to attention. "How did you know?"
"Know what?" R asked, defensive.
"How did you know they are back?"
Grantaire's face reddened. "Um, Eponine recognized something earlier." He waved a hand absently.
"Then…do you think-" Combeferre stuttered and his face flushed.
Grantaire paled and realized that everything was in the open now. There would be no more secrets, for better or worse. "Did she tell you what Montparnasse's signature is? How he operates?"
"Eponine was incoherent she was babbling, trying to make Cosette understand."
R nodded slowly. "The cloth that 'Ponine pulled out of his mouth when she began CPR…it was a piece of an old shirt of hers. I remember it. He uses it to send her a message. Anyone he attacks gets the same treatment. That way she will always belong to him and he can do anything he wants. "
"Do-do you think he hurt him."
Combeferre didn't elaborate, but he hardly needed to. Grantaire gripped the bed rail until his knuckles turned white.
"If he didn't, he wouldn't be Montparnasse." He seethed. "He's been doing this for years to keep us in line."
Both men turned to their leader, his face contorted in pain and restless slumber.
"Can I bum a fag?"
"Here darling." Jehan blew a ring of smoke in his face and passed him a cigarette. "How's our boy?"
Grantaire shrugged and Feuilly leaned in with a lighter. "He's in a drugged sleep. Combeferre's with him."
"Anybody want something to eat?" Bossuet upturned his pockets and surfaced with a treasure trove of vending machine loot.
"Shit! Where'd you get all that?" Bahorel yelled, sifting through the pile for his favorites.
Bossuet grinned. "Courfeyrac got the munchies from his meds and convinced all three of us to get him different snacks."
"Thank god for that crafty devil!" Bahorel grinned.
Jehan watched Grantaire, the shaking in his hands had quelled and he was leaning against the railing. He squeezed R's shoulder and waited for him to speak.
"What's going on Grantaire?"
"They can't get away with this. I won't let anyone else get hurt. I can't." His voice shook and Grantaire found himself being pulled in to Jehan's skinny arms.
"That's it." Feuilly declared, stamping out the butt of his cigarette on the cobblestone street. "They aren't fucking getting away with this shit."
Bahorel perked up. "Are you serious?" He cracked his knuckles and rolled the vertebrae in his neck.
"It's time to take action." Feuilly repeated, his voice low and serious.
The silence that followed this declaration was pregnant with anticipation and anger.
Joly stretched his arms over his head and excused himself from playing with Mal and Cosette.
As he walked the halls trying to collect his mind, he noticed the familiar gaits of his friends. Bossuet spotted him and offered a wave.
"Hun." Standing on tiptoe, he buried his face in Bossuet's neck and wrinkled his nose. "Were you with the guys when they were smoking?"
"Everyone was doing it, a decision's been made." He added sheepishly.
"What do you mean?" He frowned, pulling away from his partner.
Bahorel clapped him on the back and Joly jolted forward. "We're taking down the fuckers."
"They have to pay for what they've done." Feuilly explained. "We're all agreed."
"NO." The sound exploded from Joly's chest. He rarely raised his voice, except in a germ-induced panic.
His friends stared at him. Joly's body vibrated with something resembling anxiety and fear. "Absolutely not. You have no idea what you are dealing with. None."
Joly wrung his hands. "You weren't there. You didn't patch them up every day for months before they could escape. And Halloween, I can't. You can't possibly think that you can take down an international criminal organization. You have no idea!"
He came back to his body to realize that he'd been shouting and headed for the stairwell. The one man who could help them see reason was currently high out of his mind in the A&E. But hey, they had worked with less before.
Courfeyrac licked his fingers and held the sweets wrapper to his mouth. His hands weren't quite cooperating with him and the bandages kept getting in the way!
"Courf!" Joly drew back the curtain and sighed. It was New Years' Eve 2011 all over again.
"JOLY!" He greeted enthusiastically, pupils dilated five times their normal size. "Where have you been?"
"Around, listen Courfeyrac. I need you to pay attention."
"Okay." He giggled and poked Joly's nose.
"The guys are want to go after the Paton-Minette. They can't. They don't understand. After Halloween, I learned anything related to them is suicide…and murder. I don't know how to make them understand."
Courfeyrac seemed to sober immediately.
"I need you Courf. You have to talk to R. Eponine can't do it, I tried…but they don't take me seriously."
"Yeah, yeah." He agreed, dragging a hand across his face.
Joly bent his head and saw the tears fall from his friend's face on to his zippered pull over.
Feuilly shifted his weight and exhaled. Bossuet, Bahorel and he watched Cosette, Jehan and Eponine or Mal.
The window offered a perfect view of the staff lounge and they watched the three people they considered most vulnerable of their group interact. Cosette folded a small origami swan out of a notecard and pretended to fly it in lazy loops. Jehan was plaiting Eponine's hair as she giggled and blushed like a child. She drew a heart and began to color it, working so hard her tongue stuck out in concentration.
Feuilly tuned out the rest of the world and let his observational powers take over his senses. This wasn't Eponine. It couldn't be. This personality as Joly said, was separate from Eponine. This child was innocent, but frightened. The walls that the Eponine he knew had built had not yet formed. She was still broken, but resilient and not jaded. He saw himself in this alter. There was a universality in this child's behavior that Feuilly recognized from his years in the orphanage.
Bahorel and Bossuet were talking quietly and pointing through the dimmed glass. Feuilly shook himself out of thought and pressed his nose to the window.
Eponine appeared to doze off, her eyes fluttered and closed for no more than a handful of seconds. Cosette stopped Jehan from touching her and they all waited in suspension.
Without warning she jolted and her muscles twitched. She blinked rapidly, twisted out of Jehan's lap and assumed a defensive position.
The young men burst in to the room. Cosette glared at them and motioned for them to stay near the door.
"Honey! Take a breath and drop the crayon."
Eponine shifted her gaze to her hand and released the child's art implement. "WHAT. THE. FUCK."
Jehan launched himself at Eponine, squealing in delight. Cosette clapped her hands. Feuilly and Bahorel engaged in a chest bump. Bossuet whipped out his phone, presumably to tell his lovers, Combeferre and R the good news.
"No. Really." Eponine's heart hammered faster than a hummingbird's wings flapped. Was she speaking? A vice of panic crushed her ribcage and breathing became a monumental task.
"Eponine."
Her name jolted her back to her body. Everyone was so loud. She couldn't think. Nothing made sense.
"Eponine, 'Ponine. It's me."
She was in the open. Unprotected. She needed to shut down, leave her body. Wait for the body to explode with pain.
"Ninny. Squeeze my hands. Remember? This is our game. Come on 'Ponine."
Reality hit her like a lorry and the vice released her. Her lungs greedily exchanged oxygen and carbon dioxide. She gripped Grantaire's hands so tight they shook and her nails were imprinted in his palms.
"R, R, R, R." She repeated his nickname like a mantra, an answer to her prayers.
"Shhh. I'll never leave 'Ponine. It's alright now."
Grantaire pulled her to his chest and she closed her eyes. His heartbeat regulated her own and in his arms, Eponine felt the chaos recede.