Enjolras and Orka wandered vaguely in the streets for nearly half and hour before he decided to go to Prouvaire's place.
Jehan's housekeeper answered the door and showed them into the parlor. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, and Enjolras wasn't surprised to see the boys playing with Prouvaire various knick-knacks and oddities that he kept about. He also wasn't surprised to see Prouvaire's potted plants kept well out of reach.
Enjolras was, however, surprised to see Musichetta sitting on the settee between Feuilly and Jean Prouvaire. The young woman stared stonily at Orka, avoiding Enjolras' tentative glance.
Orka spoke first. "I have brought the remedy for your friends." She told Prouvaire, handing him the paper of toffees.
Jehan looked anxiously at Enjolras. "It is quite safe, Jean Prouvaire." Enjolras assured him.
"Oh. Good then. René! Michel! Charles-Leon! Lyle! Madame Orka has brought some sweets for you." The poet handed each child a toffee.
"Thank you Madame Orka." René said politely.
The other boys were too busy stuffing the toffees into their mouths to respond with the proper thanks. However, when René glared at him, Lyle managed a muffled "Thank you," around his sweet.
"You had best send them into another room, for decency's sake." Orka commanded.
Jehan led the bewildered boys upstairs and into the guest bedroom and closed the door. He then came back down the stairs and sat back down beside Musichetta.
Feuilly looked uneasy. There was something about the whole situation that he did not like. "Enjolras," he began.
"Sweet thunderation!" A familiar voice exclaimed from the upstairs.
"We're us again! How delightful! How marvelous! How---aw, my hair's gone again."
"I'm sure there is a scientific explanation for all of this…I just cannot fathom what it is at this moment."
"I'm just glad we managed not to catch anything."
There was a pause. Then the first voice said, "You know we are going to have to change clothing again."
Prouvaire called brightly up the stairs, "You are welcome to anything in my wardrobe, fellows!"
There was another pause. This was followed by some whispering that contained words like "Don't have a choice." And "Be nice Bahorel."
Several moments later, Bahorel, Combeferre, Joly, and Bossuet came down the stairway, dressed in an odd assortment of Prouvaire's clothing. They were all smiling in a strained sort of manner, and Bahorel kept tugging on the yellow waistcoat patterned with little flowers, that he had donned
Feuilly smiled and embraced the group. "It is good to see you again."
"Glad to have you back." Prouvaire added.
Musichetta sprang from her seat and hugged Joly tightly. "I was so worried about you!" She said kissing him tenderly.
Orka looked towards Enjolras. "It is time that you held up your end of the bargain, golden youth."
"Bargain?" Feuilly wrinkled his brow. "What bargain?"
"I have agreed…in exchange for your adulthood…to become her son, by taking the same potion that you did." Enjolras said evenly.
"But…that isn't fair!" Combeferre protested. The others voiced their agreement in loud tones. But Enjolras merely shook his head.
Orka was already pouring the potion into her tin cup. "Drink up, Hector."
"You can't do that!" Feuilly cried.
"Are you insane, Enjolras?" Bahorel asked. "Are the four of us worth more than your dreams? Worth more than France?"
"But…we need you." Prouvaire said unevenly. He looked on the verge of tears.
Courfeyrac chose this moment to enter the home with the two adolescents in tow. The door opened with a bang as he entered. "What have I missed? Oh, you're back to yourselves again. Why the long faces though?" he asked in his usual chipper manner.
"Enjolras is going to become a child and stay with her as her son!" Prouvaire informed the law student pointing at Orka.
Courfeyrac blinked at the old woman that he had heard so much about and decided that she was too old for his tastes.
"I'm not sorry. It had to be done." Enjolras took the cup from Orka. Courfeyrac put a restraining hand on his arm.
"Shouldn't you perhaps leave the room? I'd be happy to stay with you…if Madame permits." He added.
Orka shrugged. "If you wish. It would be best for someone to be with him so he won't feel panicked."
Courfeyrac drug Enjolras up the stairs and shoved him into the same guest room that had housed their friends moments earlier.
Apprehensively, the Amis stared up the stairs.
The clock on the mantle ticked steadily as the time passed. Minutes passed. Joly sneezed and Bahorel whistled softly as the passage of time continued to be marked by the clock. Jerome and Marquette held one another's hands and snuck into the kitchen to talk. Musichetta coughed softly, and Feuilly sighed. More than half an hour passed thus.
Then the door opened at the top of the stairs.
Enjolras, very much an adult stepped out.
Orka looked very displeased. "If this is some sort of trick boy, you'll find that you have chosen the wrong---"
Enjolras raised his hand. "You said earlier that one of my friends would do as well." He paused and looked vaguely amused at something. "I had a volunteer who I could not refuse."
The blonde young man opened the door more widely and from behind him a blur shot out of the room and down the stairs. A sheer, youthful ball of energy careened into the room where everyone had gathered.
"HI!" bellowed the boy as he proceeded to jump on the couch, bouncing with reckless glee. His tousled brown hair fell into his freckled face and his brown eyes shone. "What's this thing do?" he asked as he leapt from the couch and ran over to Prouvaire's desk, picking up various items and played with them.
"Cour—Courfeyrac?" Bahorel gasped.
"Yes, meet Christophe." Enjolras said eying the child's movements with the smallest of smiles.
Orka was watching the boy with wide eyes. The child hadn't stopped moving since he came down the stairs.
Christophe abandoned the desk and began to do an impromptu handstand, which quickly turned into a series of somersaults when he fell.
"Well, hadn't you best take your ward home?" Enjolras suggested.
Orka sensed some sort of trickery, yet she moved towards Christophe. "Boy, you will come with me." She ordered extending her hand. "I am your mother now."
Christophe wrinkled his nose at her and kicked her in the shins. "NO! You are NOT my maman!" he screamed. And he continued to scream a long wordless shriek that made the hairs on Musichetta's neck stand on end.
Enjolras came down the stairs and leaned against the door jam with his arms folded across his chest. Feuilly looked at him in amazement. He had never seen Enjolras smile about anything that wasn't related to the Republic, and now the man looked on the verge of laughing!
"You are to come with me." Orka tried again.
"NO! You're ugly! You can't make me go with you!" Christophe screeched.
Okra made the fatal mistake of trying to forcibly move the young Courfeyrac. As she tried to grab him in order to pick him up he sank his teeth into her palm. She promptly dropped him with a curse. A curse, that Christophe proceeded to shriek repeatedly at full volume as he bounded around the room like a crazed rabbit.
"No, no, little one, we don't say that word." Orka said attempting to quiet the youngster.
Bahorel cried out a few more words for Christophe to repeat. The boy was only too willing to oblige, and soon the house fairly rang with all sorts of colorful obscenities being bellowed out at the top of his little lungs in a perverse lilting song.
Orka let her breath out with a hiss as she fairly rammed a toffee down the boy's throat. "You win." She muttered. "Keep your friends and your adulthood, Hector."
The young men exchanged grins and beamed at Enjolras with pride and affection. Musichetta alone noticed the slightest of kind smiles that flickered across Orka's own face as she surveyed Enjolras returning those grins.
"Make sure that one---" Orka pointed at Christophe who was still busy chewing his toffee, "writes a very nice letter to his mother. If she isn't locked up somewhere after raising that." She gathered her basket and other items and headed for the door. "Watch where you go, boys." Orka said as she raised her hand in farewell. Then she was gone, the door shutting quietly behind her.
"Enjolras, that was brilliant!"
"Courfeyrac---it's a wonder she didn't run from here, honestly!"
"However did you think of it?"
Enjolras cleared his throat. "It was his idea. I only agreed to it because he said…he said that he nearly drove his mother insane as a child."
"I'm glad you are still with us!" Prouvaire said earnestly.
"He's cute!" Bahorel remarked looking at the small Courfeyrac. The boy had made guns out of his hands and was busy shooting all of his friends.
Enjolras smiled at his friends and Musichetta couldn't help but notice a marked difference in his appearance as they sat down and began to chat about how things had worked out.