Once fully into the darkness of the livery stable, Combeferre stopped
Enjolras with a hand on his arm. "Put him down, Enjolras." Panic did not
show in his voice, but anyone looking at him would have seen it barely
controlled in his eyes. When his friend only looked at him over the other
man's still form, he repeated himself more firmly and pointed at some hay
piled nearby. It looked clean enough. "He can rest there. We need to
discuss this."
As Enjolras did what he was told, Combeferre balanced his medical bag on his forearm so he could dig through it. He needed to focus on what was best for Grantaire. Enjolras would be angry, but he'd dealt with anger before.
"There," Enjolras said tightly. "He's resting. Now what is it?"
At least he was still keeping his tone low. "I need to get Grantaire back to a bed as soon as possible. He needs to rest, and I insist on going with him."
"You can't go out there!" Enjolras pointed to the wide open doors at the front of the stable.
"So we wait a few minutes. You are being paranoid about this."
"Now I'm being paranoid? Whose idea was this?" He swept a hand up and down to indicate his ill-fitting clothing and curled hair. The curls were disintegrating in the humidity, some falling straight again and others frizzing untidily.
"Courfeyrac's actually," he answered. He found a bottle of alcohol, and quickly knelt beside Grantaire again. Without being able to get Grantaire into a bed, he was feeling at a loss. The man's injuries weren't that serious, but he needed rest and a good cleaning. Combeferre busied himself wiping sweat and grime from Grantaire's face and making soothing noises to the half-conscious man. Then he found a length of bandage and moved lower to try to bind the man's injured ankle.
"Enjolras! Help me with this." When Enjolras had knelt opposite him, he said, "Get that boot off him, and listen to me." Enjolras struggled with the boot while Combeferre unrolled the bandage. "You need to get out of town for a few days, I think. This accident has affected your judgement."
"It has not," Enjolras said.
"Mmm hmm," Combeferre said. "Didn't you say a few days ago that you needed to go to Aix?"
"Yes, but that doesn't seem likely now. I haven't the time."
"Why not?"
Enjolras could not answer.
"Go. Go now." He wrapped the bandage around Grantaire's ankle several times and tucked the ends under to bind it tight.
"Like this?"
"Why not like that?"
"No one will take me seriously."
"So buy some new clothes in Aix. And comb your hair." He took the boot from Enjolras and groped in his bag again. He pulled out a small purse and took out a few coins, then tossed the purse to Enjolras. "You can repay me when you get back. And if you ruin that coat, I'm going to kill you."
Enjolras, wearing a puzzled frown, caught the purse and weighed it. "Why are you doing this?"
"For our cause. You need to go, and I need to take care of this man. So go." He pointed at the horses in the stalls opposite. "Hire a horse and get out of Paris."
Enjolras stood and put the purse in his coat pocket, but his eyes seemed reluctant to leave the pair on the ground. Noticing this, Combeferre waved him away again. Then Enjolras found the stable master and negotiated a horse, but he kept looking back at the two of them.
As Enjolras was mounting the horse, Grantaire awakened slightly. "'jolras?" he asked.
"Not here," Combeferre said. "It's Combeferre. You're going to be fine."
"I'm sorry," Grantaire said as if he hadn't heard Combeferre. "I tried."
"We know you did. He knows, now rest. You're going to be fine."
Combeferre watched Enjolras ride the horse out of the stable. The view of the man on horseback took his breath away. Combeferre knew that when Enjolras got back, whether his mission was successful or not, he'd go back to being the man he had been. Grantaire would be recovered and hiding in his bottle, and Enjolras would have his head in the clouds, dreaming of France. As it should be, Combeferre thought.
As Enjolras did what he was told, Combeferre balanced his medical bag on his forearm so he could dig through it. He needed to focus on what was best for Grantaire. Enjolras would be angry, but he'd dealt with anger before.
"There," Enjolras said tightly. "He's resting. Now what is it?"
At least he was still keeping his tone low. "I need to get Grantaire back to a bed as soon as possible. He needs to rest, and I insist on going with him."
"You can't go out there!" Enjolras pointed to the wide open doors at the front of the stable.
"So we wait a few minutes. You are being paranoid about this."
"Now I'm being paranoid? Whose idea was this?" He swept a hand up and down to indicate his ill-fitting clothing and curled hair. The curls were disintegrating in the humidity, some falling straight again and others frizzing untidily.
"Courfeyrac's actually," he answered. He found a bottle of alcohol, and quickly knelt beside Grantaire again. Without being able to get Grantaire into a bed, he was feeling at a loss. The man's injuries weren't that serious, but he needed rest and a good cleaning. Combeferre busied himself wiping sweat and grime from Grantaire's face and making soothing noises to the half-conscious man. Then he found a length of bandage and moved lower to try to bind the man's injured ankle.
"Enjolras! Help me with this." When Enjolras had knelt opposite him, he said, "Get that boot off him, and listen to me." Enjolras struggled with the boot while Combeferre unrolled the bandage. "You need to get out of town for a few days, I think. This accident has affected your judgement."
"It has not," Enjolras said.
"Mmm hmm," Combeferre said. "Didn't you say a few days ago that you needed to go to Aix?"
"Yes, but that doesn't seem likely now. I haven't the time."
"Why not?"
Enjolras could not answer.
"Go. Go now." He wrapped the bandage around Grantaire's ankle several times and tucked the ends under to bind it tight.
"Like this?"
"Why not like that?"
"No one will take me seriously."
"So buy some new clothes in Aix. And comb your hair." He took the boot from Enjolras and groped in his bag again. He pulled out a small purse and took out a few coins, then tossed the purse to Enjolras. "You can repay me when you get back. And if you ruin that coat, I'm going to kill you."
Enjolras, wearing a puzzled frown, caught the purse and weighed it. "Why are you doing this?"
"For our cause. You need to go, and I need to take care of this man. So go." He pointed at the horses in the stalls opposite. "Hire a horse and get out of Paris."
Enjolras stood and put the purse in his coat pocket, but his eyes seemed reluctant to leave the pair on the ground. Noticing this, Combeferre waved him away again. Then Enjolras found the stable master and negotiated a horse, but he kept looking back at the two of them.
As Enjolras was mounting the horse, Grantaire awakened slightly. "'jolras?" he asked.
"Not here," Combeferre said. "It's Combeferre. You're going to be fine."
"I'm sorry," Grantaire said as if he hadn't heard Combeferre. "I tried."
"We know you did. He knows, now rest. You're going to be fine."
Combeferre watched Enjolras ride the horse out of the stable. The view of the man on horseback took his breath away. Combeferre knew that when Enjolras got back, whether his mission was successful or not, he'd go back to being the man he had been. Grantaire would be recovered and hiding in his bottle, and Enjolras would have his head in the clouds, dreaming of France. As it should be, Combeferre thought.