A/N Thank you to those who reviewed; your kind words and enthusiasm are uplifting. To those of you who have just started following, WELCOME! To those of you have been here from the start, thank you for your loyalty and your kind reviews. Anyway, before this gets too sentimental, on with the story!
P.S. To the guest who asked in Courfeyrac is going to fall in love with Aimee, the answer is a definite NO! I know they may seem very much like a couple, but they are platonic soul mates, not romantically interested in each other.
Disclaimer: *insert depressing disclaimer here*
Chapter Seventeen
"They're late." Combeferre commented as he checked his pocket watch for the third time in ten minutes. The Amis were gathered as usual in the top room of the Musain, the only missing members being Courfeyrac and Aimee. Marius was also absent, but everyone had basically given up hope on him being a regular member.
"I know it's Courfeyrac that we are discussing," Combeferre continued, his worry obvious in the way he rambled, "and if it were just him I wouldn't be too concerned, but he's with Aimee. What if she's had some sort of flashback again and fainted and he doesn't know what to do? What if she's got separated from him and got lost? What if…"
"Ferre, you really need to calm down." Grantaire swung his chair back onto two legs and balanced there expertly. "They will be fine. Courfeyrac probably just got side-tracked; he's rather good at that sometimes."
Enjolras tuned out the conversation and tried to quell his own rising sense of worry. They probably just lost track of time at the library, that's all. Instead he chose to focus all of his attention onto the plans and lists laid out before him in a bid to make time pass quickly. This productive strategy appeared to be successful, for seemed to be only a few minutes later when the two latecomers crashed through door in Courfeyrac's typically flamboyant style.
Jehan was instantly on his feet, the speed with which he stood nearly dislodging Ophelia from her place on his shoulder. "Aimee! You've been crying, what happened?"
Enjolras' head snapped upwards at those words, and yes, Aimee's eyes were slightly red, a clear indication that she had been crying.
"What happened?" He echoed Jehan's question and sent a suspicious and furious glare in Courfeyrac's direction. "What did you do?"
"Nothing!" Courfeyrac protested, trying to disentangle himself from his coat, eventually doing so with some help from Combeferre. "I think she may be a little overwhelmed, that's all." Seeing the interest in their eyes he grinned mischievously and shook his head. "No, I'm not telling you anything. Aimee can have the honour of doing that and she can do so in her own time." He face sobered and he leaned a little closer. "It was quite distressing for her in some parts, so proceed with care."
Although Enjolras was desperate to ask what he meant, he had to restrain himself as Aimee was headed towards them.
She gave a brilliant smile that was completely at odds with her swollen eyes. "Sorry for keeping you waiting! The walk back took longer than we expected."
Combeferre looked at her, concern clearly written on his face. "How are you feeling? Courfeyrac said you were a little shaken up."
Aimee chuckled. "I've just had Joly ask me the same thing, only sounding a little more panicked. I'm fine, honestly; I'll just sit in corner out of the way so that you can bring the meeting to order." She gave another smile and went to join Eponine at an out of the way table. The two girls were becoming quite good friends.
For Enjolras the next few hours were a blur. With Aimee in his constant line of sight, he felt himself properly relax and was able focus fully on the task at hand. The letters he had been working on all day were met with positive reviews and Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Feuilly agreed to drop them off the next day.
A date for their first rally of the year was set and Enjolras felt the familiar thrum of excitement at the thought of speaking to a crowd again. He had missed it, only realizing now just how much.
The candles were burning low by the time they reached the last item on the agenda.
"We need new designs for the pamphlets." Enjolras held up some previous examples. "We haven't updated in a while and the design itself quite bland and unappealing."
"Significantly unlike your good self, Apollo!" Grantaire shouted from the corner, "Or should I say your 'god' self?"
Enjolras clenched his jaw in frustration and answered without turning around. "Did your mother never tell you that if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all?"
"Nope." Grantaire replied, popping the 'p'. "She was dead long before I was old enough to say anything." He seemed to register the personal nature of the information he had just given away and blanched slightly. "Ella," he roared, calling to serving girl, "bring me another!"
Enjolras turned back to the task at hand with a sigh. Despite how much he generally despised the drunkard, he knew that Grantaire had had a tough upbringing filled with hardship and grief.
"What design would you prefer?" Combeferre, as always, was the one to bring everyone back to focus.
Enjolras shrugged. "I'm a wordsmith, not an artist. Would anyone be willing to draw some new designs?"
"You should ask Grantaire." Aimee's voice came from near his ear and he jumped in surprise having not heard her get up. He ignored the shiver that raced down his spine from the warm brush of her breath.
"Grantaire?" He gave her a sceptical look. "Are you certain that we talking about the same person? Drunken, cynical, and incapable of doing anything useful apart from trying to replace his blood with alcohol? That Grantaire?"
Aimee's gaze narrowed imperceptibly. "Have you seen some of his drawings?" she challenged, looking around at the group of young men. "Any of you? He draws all of you, all the time. I caught sight of one once by accident, then he showed a whole lot more, books and books filled with these incredible drawings." She turned back to Enjolras. "If you don't want him to help you, then fine, but let it be because you found someone better, not because of your pride and bias."
Enjolras sighed. He would do anything for her just to see those stunning green eyes of hers light up in happiness. "I will consider it," he replied tersely, irritated by how his stomach fluttered when her eyes lit up exactly as he had envisioned them. Get control of yourself!
With this last issue partially resolved, Enjolras allowed the meeting to disperse. Instantly, the noise level rose as wine flowed freely and card games were struck up by several groups. As he and Combeferre finished clearing the last of the maps and papers away into their bags and several folders, Aimee came to join him at the table, followed surprisingly by Eponine. She shyly took a seat next to Combeferre which left Aimee next to Enjolras.
She was playing nervously with something that was hung around her neck as she sat down. "I'm sorry if I was too impertinent with the Grantaire issue," she blurted out.
Enjolras willed himself to focus on her words and not on the way she was biting her lip, a long dormant heat rising in him at the action. His gaze moved to her eyes, her big green eyes that were looking at him uncertainly. Yes, eyes he could manage...sort of.
Mistaking his silence as a sign of his anger, Aimee felt a need to apologize again. "I really am sorry if it seemed like I was undermining you at all. It's just...you had a problem and I knew that Grantaire could help you solve that problem. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, you were perfectly right." Enjolras sighed and ran a hand through his curls before continuing. "I know how well Grantaire can draw," he admitted, "I've seen some of his work. Did you know that he graduated from Ecole des Beaux Arts two years ago?"
Aimee shook her head.
"He's very good artistically, I know that. What worries me, and infuriates me, is that he seems incapable of completing any task that is given to him." He glanced over at Combeferre, seeing that they were both remembering the same incident. "I trusted him once with a very important job. He was charged with the task of going to meet with some possible allies at the Barrier du Main; this was back in '32 when we thought we needed all the help we could get. I found him several hours later. He was at the Barrier du Main, yes, but he was playing dominoes and drinking with them instead of trying to recruit them." His gaze flickered briefly to the man in the corner. "I haven't trusted him with a job since."
Aimee was silent, only the sound of Eponine and Combeferre's murmured conversation breaking the silence at the table. At last she spoke. "He almost worships you, you know." Her voice was low so as not to be overheard. "He would die for you in a heartbeat."
Enjolras met her gaze. "I know." He looked back over to Grantaire, seeing the way the other man's eyes hurriedly shifted away to another spot as he was caught staring. "And it scares me."
He was slightly surprised at his admission of fear, but Aimee had already seen him at his worst and most uncertain. He relaxed into the chair, determined the change the subject. "Courfeyrac said you had big news?"
Aimee's eyes lit up and she pulled something out of the front of her dress. Enjolras frowned. It was a handsome little silver locket that definitely hadn't been there earlier.
"Courfeyrac and I found something, something rather important." She grinned and held up the locket. "And then this found me!"
Confused as to her meaning he was just about to ask for an explanation when the muffled sounds of a scuffle in the corridor outside were heard. The whole room lowered their volume to listen, their curiosity momentarily dampening their mirth. From the hissed curses and the maelstrom of confused footsteps it sounded as if Madame Houchloupe* was having a very physical argument with someone. The noise peaked directly outside before the door flew inwards to reveal two people. One was the landlady of the Musain, a round, slightly greasy-looking woman with a superior air and a heart of gold.
The other was an unfamiliar young woman. Her long auburn hair was sleek and clean; it had obviously been fastened up in some elaborate style but now hung in flyaway strands around her face. Dark blue eyes blown wide in fright surveyed the room frantically, a red tinge appearing on her pale skin as she noticed the occupants of the room staring at her oddly.
Aimee glanced quickly at Feuilly and her suspicions were confirmed. He was staring at the girl with a multitude of emotions on his face, the prominent one being heartbreak. Empathy tore at her heart as she looked between the two people.
"I'm sorry, messieurs, but there was nothing I could do! The little harpy was determined she needed to come through, even though I know you don't like people disturbing you." She took a firm grip on the girl's upper arm and tugged sharply. "Come on, now! Back out onto the street with you!"
The girl pulled back with surprising strength and wrenched herself free. "Please, I'm looking for a Monsieur Alexandre Feuilly. He told me he frequents this café…" her voice trailed off as she met Feuilly's eyes.
Feuilly hadn't moved a muscle since the girl had appeared and his face was a frozen stony mask.
The girl took an uncertain step forwards. "Alexandre?"
"I think you need to leave, mademoiselle." His tone was devoid of any feeling and Aimee saw the girl physically flinch.
Eponine leant across the table. "I'm very confused now," she whispered. "Any ideas?"
Aimee murmured directly into the other girl's ear. "This is the girl Feuilly was courting and was going to propose to over the holidays; I think her name is Annette. Only she hadn't told her family about him. Her father kicked him out and forbade him to from ever seeing her again. She didn't protest at all."
Eponine winced. "Harsh."
"I couldn't agree more," Aimee said, "but I think she is reaping the bitterness she has sown."
Annette was protesting wildly as Madam Houchloupe attempted to drag her out again. Feuilly had turned his back to her and was stonily regarding the opposite wall, while the rest of the Amis just looked from one to the other awkwardly.
"Please, Alexandre!" Annette begged, "I tried to talk Father around, but he wouldn't listen! I tried! I tried!" The girl was sobbing now, ugly heaving sobs that left her gasping and shaking in the now uncertain grasp of Madame Houchloupe
Unable to see the other girl in such distress any longer, Aimee rose and swiftly crossed the room. "I'll take her," she murmured quietly to the café patroness, who nodded in assent and handed the desolate young woman over. Wrapping her arm around Annette's shaking shoulders she led the crying girl down the stairs to the main part of the café and sat her at a table.
Taking the opposite seat, Aimee regarded Annette with an unfathomable expression on her face. "I assume you are Annette?" she asked bluntly.
Annette jumped slightly but after a moment nodded miserably. "How do you know who I am?"
"I know Feuilly, in fact I know all of the boys, but that is another story for another time." Aimee relaxed her posture and rested her chin on her hand. "I'm Aimee."
"A pleasure to meet you." The response was automatic. It seemed she had been brought up with good manners.
"I was the one who found Feuilly drunk out of his mind and crying on New Year's Eve after being thrown out of your house as you stood by and did nothing."
Annette's eyes snapped upwards and the guilt in them, obvious despite the veil of tears, took Aimee's breath away.
"I was such a coward!" The self-loathing in her tone was painful to hear. "I let the man I love be sent out of my life without saying a word in his defence!"
Wordlessly, Aimee handed over a handkerchief, warming slowly to other girl. For that is what she was; she couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen.
"I let Father bully me into silence and listened to my Mother's twisted lies about how he wasn't good enough or was only after my money. I was so stupid!" She angrily wiped the tears away. "It's taken me this long to realise just how stupid I was but it's too late. I've come to apologize and he won't even look at me."
"You can't have been expecting him to welcome you back with open arms?" Aimee's tone was harsh, and Annette meekly shook her head.
"No, but I was at least expecting him to look at me." She suddenly looked very, very young, completely at odds with the world weary sigh she let out. "I knew it was a gamble, and I guess I've lost." She made to get to her feet. "I just need to try and get home before Father and Mother get back from their holiday. I was meant to go with them, but after the whole incident with Alexandre…"
"Wait," Aimee grabbed her wrist, stopping her from leaving, "when I found Feuilly on New Year's Eve, he was a mess. But despite the humiliation, and pain, and anger he was feeling, he told me that he still loved you despite it."
"He did?" A tiny note of hope sounded in Annette's voice.
Aimee took a breath, hoping against hope that she was doing the right thing. "I can talk to him if you would like." She held up a hand to stop the ecstatic thanks about to be given to her. "I can't promise anything will come of it, but I may be able to convince him to at least hear you out."
Annette nodded eagerly and happily complied when Aimee told her to stay at the table.
Aimee received a few glances as she came back into the room, but all prying eyes moved away as she moved towards Feuilly, who had now hidden himself away in a dark corner with a large bottle of something.
"I'm playing messenger and peace keeper," Aimee explained to Eponine as she passed.
Eponine pulled a face. "Been there, done that and it's not a lot of fun."
Aimee remembered what Eponine had told her about delivering Marius messages to the girl he was in love with. What was her name? Corset? Collette? Oh, Cossette.
Pushing the gossip out of her mind, Aimee tapped Feuilly on the shoulder to let him she was there, and then sat down next to him.
"Interesting evening, hm?" she asked, watching his face for a reaction.
He chuckled darkly and took a drink. "You could say that."
"She really wants to talk to…"
"No."
Aimee paused, knowing she was on dangerous ground. "Why not?"
"Because she broke my heart and bloody danced on the pieces, that's why!" The venom in his tone made Aimee flinch.
Seeing this he muttered an apology around the neck of his bottle as he took another drink.
Aimee tried again, remembering the desperate girl downstairs. "She really is sorry, Feuilly. She's come here and is willing to give everything up for you."
"Sorry isn't going to cut it. Not in this case."
Going out on a limb, Aimee said, "I know you still love her. Why not give her a chance?"
Feuilly seemed to freeze up again, like he had when Annette had first walked in, and Aimee was afraid she had crossed a line.
"Because," he said eventually, "she broke the one thing that I have spent my whole life protecting; my heart." His grey eyes bored into Aimee's, filled with pain and loss. "I pulled myself out of the gutter and when you're doing that, you can't afford to care about anything. But then I met Annette and… she broke through that." He closed his eyes in remembrance and a slight smile graced his lips. "I remember, I'd just worked an eighteen hour day and I was so tired I could have fallen into bed and slept for a week. I was covered in paint and my hands were about to start cramping from all the work I'd done and then…she walked into the shop and I felt my world stop." He gave a wry smile. "I know I sound like Pontmercy, but I understand what he means. I didn't say anything to her apart from to sell her a fan, one of mine, but I promised myself if I saw her again I would try. A week later, she came back in and I struck up a conversation with her." His face fell. "But I guess she didn't care for me as much as she said."
"She does care Feuilly; she's risking everything for you. Please, just go and talk to her." Aimee was about to start begging. The two of them still obviously cared for each other; they just had to rise above their previous mistakes and grievances.
After a moment of consideration, Feuilly nodded and stood up. Without another word to anyone, he left the room and almost ran down the stairs.
Aimee smiled slightly as she made her way back to Enjolras, who was looking at her strangely. She shrugged. "What?"
"You should learn how to debate, you're very persuasive." He eyed the necklace that was hanging free down her front. "You were about to tell me something before all this drama began?"
Most of the Amis gathered around as Aimee, with some help from Courfeyrac, told of their adventures and discoveries of the day. One by one they studied the inscription on her necklace as she passed it round and Jehan and Bahorel gave her a hug as she told them the content of her flashback, once again edited. She wasn't quite sure what they would do if she told them the whole thing.
At last, she came to the end of her tale, just about supressing a huge yawn.
"Time for us to return home, I think." Enjolras was on his feet quickly to help Aimee into her coat and so missed the amused glance that Courfeyrac and Combeferre shared.
Aimee gave each of the Amis a hug and waved goodbye from the doorway before descending to street level with Enjolras just behind her.
As they exited the café, Aimee couldn't supress a smile as she saw Feuilly and Annette were still at the corner table, deep in discussion, their hands intertwined on the table top. When Enjolras saw where she was looking, he scoffed quietly, rolled his eyes, and muttered something about 'everyone is turning into Pontmercy' as he opened the door, but secretly he was pleased for his friend. For Marius, love was the distraction, whereas for Feuilly it was the absence of it that distracted him.
The night seemed very dark and foreboding after the light and good humour of the café and Aimee instinctively moved closer to Enjolras. As they passed the alleyway that featured in too many of her nightmares, she moved closer still and surprised them both by slipping her hand into his. Both of them had forgone gloves that day and the skin on skin contact was unfamiliar, yet vaguely comforting.
They had only taken a few steps when Aimee spoke, her voice gentle and quiet. "I'm glad it was you."
"Hm?" Enjolras had an inkling of what she was referring to, but he wanted to hear her say it.
"I'm glad it was you who found me." She gave his fingers a squeeze. "I thank God every day it was you."
"And I thank Him every day it was you that I found." The words rolled easily off his tongue. He could say it so easily now – I think I am a little in love with you – but he didn't, as he knew he wouldn't, because the words may be simple to say, but they could change so much and right now, he was happy.
A/N Aww, that last bit with Enjolras and Aimee was so cute to write. Hope you guys enjoyed the drama but I do have a few questions. What did you think of Annette? How much do you want her to feature? Should I write a spinoff of her and Feuilly's story when I've finished ADVOE? Mentioning finishing, I have the whole of the plot laid out now and it comes to around twenty six chapters at the moment, depends if I think of anymore content. If you're able, tell me your thoughts and reactions in a review; they are much appreciated.
Until next time, mes amis!
Libz