As the following week passed Grantaire found himself entering into a routine. His days consisted mainly of keeping Alana distracted, with a few household jobs done when he had time and trips to the hospital every few days when there was someone free to look after Alana. She asked to see him every day but Grantaire still refused, knowing that no matter how bad it was for him to see Enjolras like this, for Alana to actually see how ill her father was would just terrify her. There had been no improvement bar the slow healing of some wounds but Grantaire would sit in the small hospital room for hours regardless, simply holding Enjolras's hand which wasn't in a cast and talking to him about anything and everything.
It was after a day at the hospital that Grantaire decided he was going to tackle the laundry. He'd just put Alana to bed and was looking for something, anything to distract him from the fact that Enjolras had looked paler today than three days ago, that Grantaire was convinced there had been extra tubes attached to him today, that his fears that Enjolras was just going to fade away one day had grown even stronger.
He'd been putting off doing the washing, it being his least favourite job, but that night the mundaneness was perfect. Within minutes the lounge had been taken over by the different piles of clothes, Grantaire determined to not screw up and ruin any of Alana's clothes. However he hadn't quite thought through all the consequences of this job, as he pulled a white shirt from the basket. Grantaire barely managed to hold in the sob as he held it, remembering that morning when Enjolras had pulled on one identical.
"But white is so boring," Grantaire had whined, flopping back onto the bed after their shower as Enjolras started dressing. "It's not even a proper colour. You should have a red shirt, or pink, or green." He sat up and grinned. "Or blue! That'd bring out your eyes as well. Yeah, you'd suit a blue shirt. Not too dark, but not too pale either."
"'Taire, you're starting to ramble," Enjolras pointed out fondly, recognising the warning signs for Grantaire's motormouth. Sitting on the edge of the bed he leant over and kissed his boyfriend before carrying on buttoning his shirt. "Yes, I'll admit it's boring. But it's work clothes. They can't all be interesting. Even Courf has boring uniform for his staff."
"Pfft, like they ever follow the "all black" rule," Grantaire laughed.
"Well, I do follow the rules. Sometimes. So I'm stuck with white shirts." He nudged Grantaire's foot. "Now get dressed, or I'll lock you in here for the day."
Grantaire quickly dropped the shirt onto the whites pile, covering it with a t-shirt of his own before deciding that was enough sorting. Scooping up all the pale clothes, he headed through to the kitchen and filled the washing machine with them, finding the right washing powder before glaring at the dial which looked far more complicated than was needed.
"Well what the fuck is that all supposed to mean?" he grumbled when he realised there were three different settings listed under Whites. Grantaire quickly did eenie-meenie-minie-mo under his breath, clicking the dial round to the number that method had chosen. As the machine clicked and started whirring away he quickly headed back through to the lounge, throwing the rest of the clothes back into the basket. The job hadn't taken as much time as he'd hoped and Grantaire was still far too awake to even consider going to bed yet, but being left alone in the silence with his thoughts was definitely no answer if he wanted to remain sober. As the urge to drink settled in even more he quickly stood and popped open the box of tablets Joly had given him, hesitating before snapping one in half and swallowing it dry.
The valium had helped, he had to admit, no matter how reluctant he'd been to take it originally. The hallucinations had ceased within a couple of days of him accepting the tablets and he'd managed to shake off most of the nausea as well, though his head still pounded away through most of the day. His hands only shook occasionally now but the depression and urge to drink stayed firm, though Grantaire had a feeling that was more to do with Enjolras's current state than the withdrawal alone.
The one thing which hadn't changed was the nightmares, to the point where Grantaire stayed up as late as possible each night to try and avoid them, his alarm being set earlier and earlier each morning for the same reason. The visions of Enjolras dying were now interspersed with those of Enjolras waking. While it was the one thing Grantaire needed to happen, it was also up there with the things that Grantaire feared most. What if he woke and had amnesia? Grantaire wasn't sure how he would survive if Enjolras couldn't remember him at all or just couldn't remember he'd come home from London, not sure which scenario would be worse. The fear ate away at him though, whether Grantaire was asleep or not, and it was often more than he could bear. If Grantaire was honest with himself, the only reason he got up and kept on going each day was Alana. If it hadn't been for the young girl depending on him, Grantaire would have given up and fallen to pieces completely the day of the crash. As it was, the cracks were showing but he somehow was surviving and even managing to pretend that there was a semblance of normality in their lives.
Jumping to his feet, Grantaire made his way over to where he'd dumped the bags of belongings he'd fetched from the house, opening the only one which had as yet remained closed. He pulled out his paints and canvas, glancing round for where he could set the small easel up. Once everything was laid out Grantaire started painting, not even fully focusing on what was appearing on the canvas. Just the familiar actions of painting was starting to calm him, and as he finished the first painting he simply transferred it to the kitchen table to dry before starting on a second, then a third.
It was after four when the exhaustion finally hit him, just after he'd started the third picture. He was left with just enough energy to place the paints well out of Alana's reach before he staggered down the corridor and collapsed into bed, too tired to even bother stripping off his paint-spattered clothes. He was asleep within minutes and, for the first time since the accident, the exhaustion helped, sending him into a sleep deep enough to avoid dreams.
Combeferre stirred as Eponine climbed back into bed, turning to wrap his arms round her waist and kiss her temple softly.
"Much as I love having you back into my arms, I thought you were getting ready to go to the hospital," he murmured. "You don't have time for a cuddle."
"Says the person who was going to be coming with me but is still in bed," she teased, snuggling further into his embrace. "They just rang. The appointment needs to be postponed a couple of days, the test results aren't back yet."
"I'll tell Marius I need him to cover at the museum again then." Realising how still Eponine was lying, Combeferre gently stroked her hair off her forehead. "Are you okay?"
"I'm scared," she whispered, Combeferre hugging her tighter as he registered the words. It was the first time she'd admitted to the feeling since the original call from the hospital.
"Don't be," he told her firmly. "If the results come back positive... Well, we can deal with it, no matter what. It's not the end of the world."
"I know, I just..." She trailed off and sighed. "I don't know. I don't even fully understand what they're doing with the tests. I know it's something to do with DNA and genes but I was never great at Biology. I just wish there was something I could do. I hate the waiting around and not knowing. I feel useless."
"Well you're not," he reassured. He was interrupted by his phone beeping wildly behind him. Flailing over with one arm he managed to knock it off the drawers onto the bed, scooping it up from there as it started again with the second text coming through.
Musichetta: Everybody, we feel the whole group could do with a chance to relax, so we're all going on a picnic seeing as most folks have today off. Those that don't (Feuilly, Marius) can join us later. We were thinking the fields on the other side of the river.
Musichetta: Oh, and if you need a lift (Grantaire, Bahorel), send group texts so we can try and sort it all out.
"'Chetta's suggesting a group picnic," he told Eponine, smiling at how her face brightened up slightly at this idea.
"Sounds like just the thing to take our minds off stuff," she sighed, nuzzling into his neck. "But I'm not sure I want to get up just yet."
If Combeferre was honest, neither did he.
It was almost ten when Cosette got worried. As soon as she got the texts off Musichette she'd fired one off to Grantaire, offering a lift for both him and Alana as she had an almost empty car. When she still hadn't got a reply two hours later she decided to head over.
Grantaire had become a source of worry for all the friends. Ever since the accident he had been surviving, but nothing else. His entire life had become looking after Alana and visiting Enjolras in the hospital, and both Cosette and Jehan were convinced that he wasn't always eating or sleeping from the thinness of his face and dark shadows under his eyes. They managed to stop themselves from checking up on him daily but only just, knowing he'd only hate them for it.
Unlocking the flat door, Cosette glanced inside the lounge when she heard the noises in there. Alana was sat in a corner playing quietly with her dolls but she dropped them instantly when she saw Cosette.
"He won't wake up," she whispered, running over to hug Cosette.
"Stay here," Cosette ordered quickly, pulled Alana off her and heading as fast as she could down the hall to the main bedroom. Pushing open the door she made her way straight over to Grantaire, bending as best she could to shake his shoulder, the shakes getting stronger as her voice grew louder and more frantic. "'Taire, wake up. 'Taire. Grantaire! Dammit 'Taire will you just goddamn wake up!"
"Mmmm?" he hummed, shifting slightly but not waking properly. Cosette still sighed with relief that he was still alive.
"You need to wake up now," she said more softly, perching on the edge of the bed as she rested one hand on his arm, the other staying on her stomach as the baby kicked.
"'Jolras?" he murmured, eyes flickering.
"No, it's Cosette."
Grantaire wasn't sure why but, after the initial disappointment, the first thought to flash through his mind was that it was the first time he'd been woken up by a heavily pregnant woman. The next thought had him leaping out of bed.
"Shit, Alana!"
"She's okay, she's in the lounge," Cosette soothed, slowly standing again. "What time did you go to bed?"
"I don't remember. Early? Well, late I guess, but it was early in one sense-"
"Was it this morning instead of last night?" she interrupted, sighing when he nodded. "Well that explains why you were so dead to the world. You scared Allie, 'Taire. Hell, you scared me. Now go have a shower and get some clean clothes on. I'm going to make sure Alana's eaten, then we're all going out. 'Chetta's set up a group picnic. No arguments, you need the time out."
Cosette had just finished cleaning the kitchen up from Alana's best attempts at making breakfast when Grantaire shuffled into the room, bare feet leaving wet marks as he rubbed at his hair with a towel.
"Pleased as I am to see you painting again, do you think you could manage it at a more human time?" Cosette sighed without looking over.
"You deal with the nightmares then," Grantaire grumbled. "Look, thank you. For waking me up, and sorting in here. You should be taking it easy though."
"I'm not an invalid," she reminded him, a vague warning clear in her voice.
"Never said you were, but I still think you should be taking it easy. So my suggestion is we head out for the picnic now, then you can spend the rest of the afternoon with your feet up." It was only when she saw the exhaustion still present in his eyes that Cosette didn't argue, realising just how little Grantaire must have been sleeping recently.
"Allie," she called out. "Grab your shoes and coat, we're going out."
It had been a very different picnic to normal, very subdued but with all the friends gladly taking the opportunity for a much-needed rest, especially Grantaire. As soon as Feuilly arrived from work he'd taken Alana down to the river to paddle and skim stones, out of everyone's way whilst they turned to slightly more grown-up topics of conversation.
Eponine sighed as she laid back in the grass, placing her head in Combeferre's lap and letting herself relax as he started to play softly with her hair, leaning against the tree behind him. She smiled slightly as she felt the warmth of the sun hit her as it finally came out from behind the latest cloud, earning a cheer from the friends.
"Well you sure know how to pick the best days 'Chetta," Bahorel toasted her, holding his glass up high.
"It's a gift," she laughed jokingly, kissing Joly thank you as he filled her own glass back up with lemonade.
"Hey Joly, I just remembered something," Courfeyrac called over from where he was leaning against Jehan. "You said you had news for us, but never had the chance to tell us what it was. Well, I for one am curious. What was it? I mean, you wanted us all gathered together, so it must have been important." The entire group fell silent and paid attention as they waited for Joly's answer.
"Well, it's sort of a joint news," Joly said finally, glancing at his lovers. "As you know we can't get married, because that would be bigamy and would be illegal, but we can do the next best thing. We've decided that two of us are going to legally change our last names, so even if we aren't officially related we are as close as can be. We're getting rings as well."
"The only thing we haven't done is decide whose last name to keep," Bossuet added on.
"Obviously 'Chetta's," Cosette chuckled. "For two reasons. One, girl power. Two, it saves you having to choose between the two guys, so is easier."
"I dunno, I actually quite like Aiken," Bossuet mused, shooting his girlfriend an apologetic look. "No offence."
"None taken," she said lightly, leaning over to kiss him on the nose. "In fact, I think I agree."
"Joly's name it is then," Bahorel grinned, slapping the doctor on the back. "So when are you doing it?"
"Not yet," Joly said softly, and everyone knew why though they all kept silent about it. Enjolras's absence had been noticible all day but even more now they were all congratulating the trio.
"If we're sharing news then I have some of my own," Eponine said quietly, only just loud enough for everyone to hear her. Combeferre squeezed her hand as she sat up, shooting her a look that clearly asked 'Are you sure?' but she just nodded in reply and looked round at everyone. "I've been having tests done at the hospital. That's why I never went in to see Enjolras with anyone, I've had appointments of my own. I won't know the results for a couple of days though."
"What are they for?" Grantaire demanded numbly, the fear of losing another of their group setting in as everyone fell silent.
"Well, remember how I mentioned a couple of months ago how Azelma's pregnant? She's kinda had difficulties. Don't ask for specifics, I haven't a clue, but it's a genetic thing so they want to check if I have it as well, before I choose to have kids."
"And if you do?" Jehan had spoken this time, his light voice filled with worry.
Eponine took a deep breath before continuing, only Combeferre's hand in her's giving her the strength.
"If I do, then I'd have difficulties as well, and there would be a fifty percent chance of the baby dying. Or... Or I wouldn't be able to have children at all. Either way, it's not good."
"But you might not, right?" Cosette looked from Eponine to Combeferre's strained expression and back again. "You could be completely fine?" Eponine nodded.
"Yes. I won't know for a few days though."
"Then I'll pray for you," Cosette told her. "We can all hope, and God willing everything will be okay."
"Please," Combeferre whispered, almost too quiet for anyone to hear. Eponine glanced up at him though, realising just how strongly he felt about this. Her love for him grew at this moment as she saw how much he needed her to be happy and okay.
"Whatever happens, we can face it," she said softly, and she smiled up at her boyfriend. "Together."