A/N: Oh gosh. And here we are nearly at the end of this arc. And it's nearly the anniversary of our starting this tale - so happy birthday to Captain Scaramouche. More pertinently, happy birthday to insanemistosingsmore! *hugs* There is one chapter to go, and it's more of an epilogue than anything else. Many thanks for hanging in with us through this really more relationship-based arc and all our dramas. next arc is much more actiony/swashbuckling, we assure you!

The thing was, amis and all that, about the doorway. You know we're not exactly bad off or anything, but about the doorway and the size of our apartment. it's not, and I mean this respectfully Maurice cher, not complaining or anything because dieu knows it's certainly large enough for me and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, but it's not that big. And the chaise isn't that far from the front door where Alex and I are actually - you know - kind of standing and pretending that we can't hear everything Combeferre and Perceval are saying to each other.

Because we can. They're right over there and you know it's not all that much more private than going into the kitchen so Perceval couldn't hear us - that only worked because of the door and he heard us anyway because he is a very very bad cynic (or is it a good cynic when someone decides they want to hear the things other people who know better have decided they shouldn't hear?) so since we're over here and we don't even have a door... well. Daniel tried very hard not to listen, and succeeded just when it was really almost a pity he did, because Combeferre lowered his voice and said something which Perceval replied to with a question as to why he should forgive him - because really it was quite a good question. Perceval asked those sometimes, those really good questions that no one else asked because they looked like large hairy spiders and everyone was afraid that if you asked them they might crawl into the room and make webs and wave their hairy legs at the femmes. And once again, Combeferre was far too soft to be heard which was a pity really because Daniel himself would really have liked to know mes amis why Perceval should forgive anyone. Not that we're being holier-than-thou or anything, but the man was a little too free with things like forgiveness and would find his pocket empty one of these days.

Whatever it had been, Perceval seemed to accept it and stopped throwing spider-like questions out of his pockets and into the room. And then Combeferre was leaving and he pretended very hard that they hadn't just heard half of what should honestly have been a private conversation. The door that was right behind them and perhaps Alexandre mon ami we could have used to create something like privacy here, closed behind Combeferre and left a silence which for a moment was too large and uncomfortable to fill.

"Dear dieu..." he found himself grinning a little, and Dieu this is another prayer from Daniel. You remember me, I know you do, we've talked about this before a few times and thank you for not feeling obliged to stop your ears yet. But we wouldn't say no to a little peace down here. I know Perceval is likely to take us off and get us involved with saving drowning kittens or rescuing children from burning buildings or something exactly just that level of Why-Hello-M'sieur-I-Say-I'm-A-Cynic-Until-I-See-Something-That-Needs-Fixing-And-Then-I-Forget but until he needs to pretend to be invincible again, can we have just a little peace? I really do think I am very fond of him now, and I'd rather not lose him to a punctured lung.

"That was... interesting." Alexandre had produced his coffee out of nowhere, a talent which Daniel found himself envying.

"Mmmm..." how did you do that and where did you have it, really. "That it was. he play nicely with Perceval, Joli?" Whcih is to say yes, Perceval, I know you can hear us and I want you to know that I care whether he did or not, and Joli could you tell me the Reason? Because he is awful at this business of being a cynic around people and he may get hurt and I don't want him to be.

Joli ignored his attempt at subtlety, and cher I know I'm no good at it. "Nicely? He was practically a saint."

"Really?" he raised both eyebrows. "And I missed that?"

"I'm afraid so." Maurice blithely ignored the fact that they had probably heard almost everything anyway. Cher, you are really not quite yourself at the moment - I think it may have been the coffee, but if it meant Combeferre and Perceval are back on speaking terms then... I still say you shouldn't drink it anymore. You won't get any sleep tonight. And that means I won't get any sleep either. And between us we'll keep Perceval awake too and he...

Shut up, Daniel. "Damn. Well, I'm going to tell Perceval the good news. Maybe if Combeferre didn't cheer him up, that will." Of course we are presuming I can fix somethign again, amis, and remember how that worked out last time?

"All right," Maurice grinned in his bright way, really awfully truly happy about this, so Daniel figured if Joli didn't think that he'd break Perceval again then maybe he wouldn't, and took both their arms and walked them that short step two three five eight oh hello Perceval there we are. Perceval looked at them as though seeing three men walk across a living room arm in arm was slightly too theatrical even for him.

"We have something to tell you." Daniel sat down on the foot of the couch and leaned back and gave him a look. You look a bit awkward all tucked up on our chaise against the green that Maurice says is good for his nerves. You look a bit like you're a fish landed on the sand of the beach without any water all of a sudden. I would have thought you'd be used to all this by now.

"Indeed we do," Joli added cheerfully.

Perceval smiled a little, the planes of his face arranging themselves into a sort of approximation of a bit of amusement and a little bit of fondness and a smile stretche in a curve between the two. "Oh?"

"It's good news, too," Alexandre said.

Indeed it is, ami. "Very good news."

"I think I could stand some good news, amis." And then and there Daniel felt suddenly like hugging him. Yes, exactly. Amis. Not Feuilly and Lesgle and Joly, not Pan and Pedrolino and Harlequin, not even Alex and Daniel and Maurice - but amis. Except he couldn't remember hugging Perceval before and he was rather afraid Perceval might break. Or turn into stone. Or dust.

There was a slight pause as they all looked at each other and waited to see who would be the first to speak, and because his head was filled with images of perceval-turning-into-dust-or-maybe-a-rabbit, it took Daniel a few moments to remember that it was his idea so perhaps he was the person everyone was waiting for. "We are a..."

"A League," Maurice said rather abruptly, like he couldn't wait any longer.

The odd smile broke and cracked and Perceval was suddenly grinning, and not that grin he always had on which seemed more flat and mask-like than his other expressions and just left his eyes alive in his whole face, but a real grin. "A leage?"

"Yes, a league." Alexandre was nodding and Daniel found himself grinning too because it looked like this actually did mean something to Perceval.

Perceval sat up a little with only a bit of a wince. "Dieu... I like the sound of that. A League. That sounds... really... good."

Aparently, when it came down to it, nothing was too theatrical for their Papa Scaramouche. A bit of a broken hobby-horse knight sitting there in his shirt-sleeves with his face grey and the ears of his hobby horse proken off, and Daniel had the sensation of looking at windmills and mules and a man with too many dreams in his head. Joli was grinning and had discovered his cup of coffee no cher, really... you don't need it and Daniel found himself flushing ebcause they were all looking his way because this great windmill was his idea.

"...you inspired it really," he said. And it's worth it to make you smile, ami. But - windmills are a bit dangerous to rush at all at once, all right? Be careful. We'll follow and I don't mind if I get hit by a windmill or two, but I'd rather Joli doesn't get too hurt, all right? Please?

"When you've got something worth living for.." Alexandre quoted quietly, and that seemed to fill the sound of windmills in his head and left something almost like the silence after a psalm.

Perceval flushed and looked pleased. "That's... fine..." and they all looked away at once because he looked as though if they kept looking at him he might cry. "...so. Who is to be our glorious leader?"

There was another pause as everyone looked at each other. We already did this, amis. Please, it's not my turn to say what we're all thinking this time. And really, who out of us wants to be the leader and charge windmills and be called 'glorious leader' like that? Anyone? because he will, you know he will. Enjolras can't stop him so we certainly won't be able to. They turned then, one by one, to look at Perceval - who looked back blankly as though this would be a Very Surprising Thing To be Thinking after he'd led them in and out of prison.

"Who besides you?" Maurice asked, and Daniel nodded and Alexandre looked as though this was a certain fact - true as gravity and Combeferre liking books and the fact that everyone had at some point found Jehan's hair ribbons in their things.

Perceval blinked, mouth agape. "Me?"

"Well of course," Alexandre said.

"But..." Perceval gave a quick shake of his head, like a dog shaking off a sudden and unexpected bath. "No. No... that's ridiculous. Any of you would be better sutied."

Really? Really Perceval? Me? Do you want everyone to end up back in prison? No, worse. What would be worse than prison? According to Enjolras it would be living under a monarchy for another decade or two, so do you want all of France to be ruled by a despotic leader for the next hundred years? You do realise I have a lot of bad luck, right? And I never ever ever lead? And wouldn't know how? "I don't think so," he said out loud, with quite a deal of restraint he thought.

Alexandre just laughed. "Not at all." Which was odd because of all of them - and no offense to his Joli, he was brilliant and wonderful but just not very much of a leader because he worries and I know Perceval does too but Perceval can turn it off without coffee - Alexandre seemed the closest to a leader after Perceval.

"It just... no," Joli said firmly, and took a long swig of the cold coffee to make his point.

Perceval looked at them then for a moment, his face suddenly devoid of the harshness that had been building up. "...you... want me... really?"

"Really."

"Absolutely."

"No question."

They spoke together - something which had been happening recently - and Daniel thought perhaps _this_ was what a league meant. Knowing together what needed to be done or needed to be said because it weas right, and then doing or saying it.

Whatever the case Perceval Grantaire finally seemed to believe in something more than his broken-windmills, and laughed - or sobbed. The noise was somewhere between the two. "Then... I suppose I am," he said softly, and nodded at them all. "Thank you." What he was thanking them for in particular, Daniel didn't know and knew even more importantly that he didn't need to know. None of them did. Because somewhere in this world were windmills which they would tilt at together for the sake of believing in something good, and the togetherness would be as important as the windmills and the goodness.

And it would be theatrical.

God save them.