Author's Note: All right, my dears, here is a longish chapter and a longish Author's Note for it as I feel the need to address some things. First of all, I would like to thank anyone and everyone who has paid attention to this story and especially those of you who have taken the time to review. I really appreciate it. However, I am going to disappoint some of you by reminding you that the character specification on does not in fact equal pairing. It indicates what the main characters are but it does not necessarily indicate that they are shagging each other or even in love with each other. So I'm really sorry but Enjolras and Grantaire are extremely unlikely to rip each other's clothes off or make any romantic declarations here. You are however very welcome to write an AU of this fic where they do, if you so wish, since some of you seem to like the setup, just not the fact that those two are not romantically involved. I know this is extremely offensive in the Les Mis fandom but most of the characters in this story are straight or at least generally straight in the case of Joly and Bossuet. I'm not sure about Jehan but I don't really care. Grantaire may or may not have had a crush on Enjolras, I don't know. At this point in time it is no longer relevant and in either case, he is perfectly capable of fancying women too. Don't get me wrong, I love E/R. I have written shameless self-indulgent E/R fluff so you are welcome to that. It is worse written than this, in my opinion, but it exists for the purpose of light entertainment and that's how much effort I put into it. If, on the other hand, you want to read high-quality E/R, go to Colonel Despard's profile in case you haven't and find the E/R stuff. There are also other great authors on the site but I obviously can't list all here. So E/R is awesome. But do consider the possibility that the idea of Grantaire having all of this love and veneration for Enjolras without wanting to throw him naked on a bed or kiss him passionately on top of the barricade may in fact have some merit and that maybe sometimes when we are writing it all off as sex and romance we may be simplifying an emotion which is more complex and potentially more interesting.
The other biggest no-no in the fandom is women unless they are Eponine and hooking up with Enjolras. And even that pairing normally belongs to one half of the fandom which is at odds with the other half who think the Amis don't need women in their lives because they are hotter when they are sleeping with each other and anyway, trying to build a female character and not make them a Mary-Sue is too damn hard. (I can testify to the last.) Well, look, I don't need a man in my life in order to fill like a wholesome person but that sure as hell doesn't mean I am never intending to marry one. This story is not about women. It's not about men either. It's not even about romance even if that shows up once in a while. It's mostly about friendship and personal growth and it is here because sometimes the fandom needs to experiment instead of beating the hell out of dead horses. It doesn't mean we have stop beating the dead horses we like but just once in a while I personally feel the need to do something else, k? So here's my suggestion. If you like my style so much but not what is happening in the story why don't you suggest prompts to me and if I get the time and inspiration I will try to whip up some stories to satisfy them. It will be my pleasure. This one however will head where it has always been heading, sorry. :) Love you all and if you are still reading, enjoy this chapter.
25.
It doesn't take long for Grantaire to realize that this has been a mistake. They are the worst possible pair for this job. He is a somewhat large man with no handsome features to distract from that fact and he has made no particular effort to look refined. He can tell that the girl, who has only reluctantly allowed them into her room, is intimidated by him. This is not only making him feel unpleasant but making her even less likely to trust them. Suzanne is not welcome either. She has been right about her former sisters by fate resenting her. Perhaps they should have let Marius come after all – he might have made a more favourable impression. His rich clothes would have been a point against him but his earnestness may have made up for it.
As Suzanne is futilely trying to be persuasive, Grantaire looks idly around. The room is small and dirty, as could be expected, and there is not much to see. A bed, a table and two chairs, that is all. His eyes fall instead on the girl in front of them. She is thin and rendered particularly ugly by the fact that one can tell she has been meant to be beautiful. Her features are symmetrical and her lips naturally full despite her emaciated state. She is blonde and blue-eyed but, combined with her sharpened features and sickly pale skin, this fairness makes her look sinister rather than attractive. Her dress hangs on her scarce chest and her teeth have been blackened from chewing tobacco. Grantaire suddenly wants to be away from her presence. There is something unbearable about this desecration of health and beauty. Susu, even in her worst days, has never looked this bad to him. Perhaps because she has never been a striking beauty her figure and features have endured the hardships of life better. But this girl, this girl looks like something which has been whole and is now broken and the cracks have been filled with fear and spite.
"Me in court?" She snorts but there is no amusement in the sound. "Who'd believe the likes of me? When that bastard walks free, who'd he be lookin' for, missie? Not for you in your big ol' house you is livin' in now! It's me he'll come for!"
"But he tried to kill you already without you having done anything," Suzanne points out. "And if he walks free he will kill someone else."
"It's hard enough keepin' myself alive, I can't think of the next poor fool. And I've learned my lesson. I ain't going' away with no strangers no more."
"What about the men who saved you? They weren't only thinking of themselves, were they? And they were there because I alerted them about him, otherwise you would have been dead."
"An' I thank you and them very much but it ain't worth payin' you with my life for savin' my life."
"You won't! He will be locked up!"
"If it were that easy to lock him up, why did you not lock him up when you was the victim? Why was he free to pull a knife on me?"
"I… I was alone then. With both of us testifying…"
It is a lost cause, Grantaire can see that. Suzanne does not even believe herself and she speaks with no conviction.
At that moment, there is a knock on the door. The girl's eyes dart suspiciously between them before she stands to open, as if this unexpected new visitor could have something to do with them. To Grantaire's complete astonishment, it turns out that he does. The door opens and there is the patron saint of lost causes himself.
"Enjolras!" Grantaire exclaims. "By God, what are you doing here?"
"Bonjour, Grantaire, Mlle Lenglen." He nods at each before turning to the girl who is staring at him with equal amounts awe and suspicion. "Apologies for disturbing you. I am looking for Mlle Sophie Colbert. I am her lawyer's assistant."
"I'm it but I ain't got no lawyer. I ain't done anything!"
"Of course not. I meant lawyer merely in the sense of a person who considers it their duty to defend your interests in court as M. Pontmercy does. I am only here to let you know what your rights are. If I may please come in…"
The girl blinks in confusion but steps aside to let him in. He comes in and Grantaire can almost see the room light up. Suzanne gives him a confused look but he can only shrug as Enjolras places his hat on the table and turns around, casually taking hold of the back of a chair.
"I will try to be short. You, mademoiselle, have the right to live. Anyone who threatens your life must be accordingly punished. But beyond that, you have the right to live a life of health, dignity and freedom. A life free of fear. You have the right to be protected by the laws of the land and you have the right to be heard and treated with respect. Despite how it may seem to you, mademoiselle, there are still people in France who believe in those rights of yours and two of them acted upon that belief when they saved you. They want no payment in return. All they want is for you to acknowledge that you are someone. That you matter. That you will not lay down your rights to be walked all over. You are important, mademoiselle."
It is not so much the words he is speaking, Grantaire thinks. The words are trivial. In another man's mouth they may have sounded cheap and shallow. But it is the way Enjolras speaks and the way he looks as he does it which set him apart. The furrowed brows on his high forehead and the burning passion in his eyes as he looks straight into yours, challenging your heart... His voice, which is sharp, rich and warm at the same time as he demands to know who you are and what you stand for... And it has to be admitted that it isn't all skill and passion. His beauty doesn't hurt either. There is just something very engaging about the juxtaposition of his delicate features and his masculinity, his ever persisting youthfulness and the strength of his character and convictions. One looks at him and thinks that his physical body must have been crafted in an artist's studio but his iron-clad philosophy must have been fashioned by a very talented blacksmith. Both are beautiful and intricate and together they are mesmerizing.
This is quite evident on the face of their hostess who looks like she doesn't know what has hit her. Grantaire doesn't blame her. What woman in her position would have imagined a man like that visiting her, calling her 'mademoiselle' and talking to her about her worth? Ah, no. They would have imagined it. But they would have never believed it could happen for real. And maybe that is one of the ways Enjolras has recruited people for the Cause – once he has managed to make you believe he is real, it is easier to believe in other incredible things.
Yet there is something unusual about his speech today. It would not be noticeable to a man unfamiliar with his manner but he is speaking unusually softly and pausing for breath much more than is normal for him. It is customary for Enjolras to move as he speaks and use his body language to further illustrate his points but this time he remains mostly still, leaning slightly forward over the back of the chair he is standing behind.
All of this however does not seem to diminish the impact. There is a different kind of intensity to this sparing performance and it is just as effective. The final blow comes when Enjolras offers the woman his hand. She takes it tentatively and a little shakily. He places his other hand on top and says with utmost seriousness: "I believe you will make the right choice."
He has won this one, Grantaire is sure of it. Women are usually even more receptive to his persuasiveness than men even if he rarely directs his words specifically at the female population. Grantaire, feeling a bit softened and charitable himself after Enjolras's speech, is willing to allow that perhaps in some cases the fact that the gentler sex are predisposed to sympathize with him is due to some motherly or sisterly instinct rather than mere infatuation.
Whatever the reason, by the end of the visit, the woman has agreed to speak in court and the three of them take their leave together.
"What in the world are you doing here?" Suzanne asks immediately when they are out the door.
"Ah, well," Enjolras says, "I believe an apology is in order. I am…" He stops, leans slowly on the wall of the building and presses a hand to the left side of his chest.
"Enjolras!" Grantaire takes hold of his arm, immediately alarmed, and he sees that Suzanne has done the same on his other side. "Are you unwell?"
The younger man lifts a hand, indicating for him to wait and, after a few moments, straightens and takes a breath. "Pay no heed, it is only the collapsed lung. It is – unsurprisingly – giving me trouble."
Grantaire frowns. "Should that not have been better by now?" He is still holding on loosely in case Enjolras needs the support.
"It is the other one," Enjolras says. "There was some debate but in the end Combeferre and Joly concluded there had been some benefit from that treatment so we repeated it on the other side."
Grantaire grimaces. "Do the others know of that?" He hopes he is not the only one who has not been told.
Enjolras shakes his head. "I do not exactly keep it a secret and I am sure Combeferre and Joly may have mentioned it to people if the conversation seemed to require it but after we did it once it is no longer a novel procedure and it seems decidedly silly for me to constantly officially announce what is new in my health affairs. I know you all care and want to know and I don't begrudge you the information but I don't want it to be the cause of excessive concern."
Grantaire sighs. "I suppose we are invading your privacy but..."
"You are all simply caring friends, Grantaire. I cannot and I do not blame you for that. You are allowed to ask me questions. I simply prefer, when I can, to keep the focus on what I am thinking rather than what my body is feeling."
"But even so, if you have had an operation recently, you should be home resting," Suzanne says.
Enjolras smiles faintly, frees his arms gently, and places a hand on each of their shoulders. "That is what I intend to do, I promise you. But sometimes a man must take care of his mind as well as his body. I was feeling restless, that is why I went out. Since you are both this concerned, you may walk me home." He starts forward without any more ceremony and, after sharing a look, Grantaire and Suzanne follow. "In answer to your question of how I came to be here," Enjolras continues, "I met Marius by chance and he told me where you were headed. I thought – extremely presumptuously, I admit – that you may need help."
Grantaire snorts. "Damn right we did."
"We probably did," Suzanne says too with a little sigh. She is fond of Enjolras by now but Grantaire suspects she still harbors a small amount of resentment for his unconscious tendency to be very nearly perfect.
"I had no intention to be patronizing, it is simply that neither of you have ever trained to be lawyers," Enjolras says.
"Or given inspiring speeches on weekly basis," Grantaire adds with a snort.
Enjolras smiles. "Or given speeches on weekly basis about inspiring things."
"Have it your way."
"Thank you for coming," Suzanne says, looking over at him. "It was very important and I do think we were failing miserably."
Enjolras smiles again. "There is a certain pleasure a man can only get from completing a task which has been worthwhile."
Grantaire starts to say out of sheer habit that he wouldn't know how that feels. He stops himself when he thinks of his trip to America. Cynic or not, he cannot deny the warm feeling of accomplishment which fills him at the thought of reuniting Les Amis with their leader. He has entertained the thought that he might have felt happier if he had never gone there and never learned of Enjolras's sickness but he does not really believe that. Despite the worry, the fear and grief, these past few months have been precious. He feels part of a whole again and what is more, he now feels he has a real friendship with Enjolras, one where he may have something to give. A world which has seemed dull and stuck has started moving again. The colours have grown brighter and something inside him has been released. He doesn't quite dare voice it but perhaps it is to some extent true what Enjolras believes – that life, progress and purpose are stronger and shall always triumph against death and despair. The idea of hope is no less frightening than it has been when he has sat alone in his room – long ago, it seems – waiting to hear the hiss of raindrops outside but it is now more real, more tangible, and even more impossible to escape.
End Note: Kindly give me your thoughts (and prompts, in case you have decided to take me up on that one).