The Marble Man
Disclaimer: Surprisingly enough, I still don't own a thing! Just the plot.
AN: Yep, I'm finally resolving this cliffhanger. I know: it's about time.
This chapter is dedicated to Hannah, who has drawn me some really pretty art based on this story and who's an all around awesome person!
Chapter six:
"Are you mademoiselle Thénardier?" the man on the left asks.
Fuck! And they even found out her fucking last name, which means that she is never going to be able to show her face around this town again. Her reflexive flinch is quickly hidden underneath a smile that is faker than anything she has ever attempted.
"That would be me, yes," she tries to sound polite.
"We have been told that you recently started working at the museum," the gendarme on the left appears to be the one who is going to do the talking.
Yes, these men are definitely suspicious of her, and there is nothing that she is able to do to assuage these suspicions. Because they are right about her; she is involved with the disappearance of this statue – that is, if she is choosing to believe that Enjolras is who he claims to be. And right now that starts making more and more sense, because she has no other explanation for the statue disappearing and him looking so much like it and coming up with this explanation that fits all the facts. She is starting to believe him.
"I started working there less than two weeks ago," she tells the gendarmes.
"I find it rather suspicious that within two weeks after your employment starts," the man on the left responds, "a priceless statue is stolen. A priceless statue that you have a known fascination with – now you can imagine that we'd want to talk to you."
She can also imagine just how screwed she is at this point, because it is always the newest employee they suspect – plus there is the fact that she is actually involved in the disappearance of the statue. She might not have had anything to do with the curse that turned Enjolras into a statue years ago and turned him back last night, but she was the one that helped him get out of the museum and into this very house.
"I did not steal the statue," she tells them, knowing that at least that part is correct. "I can't imagine how I would pull that off all by myself. I'm only a skinny girl and that statue would be ridiculously heavy. I could not lift that."
Yes, she makes herself sound a lot dumber than she actually is, because the look on the left guy's face is just too focused for her peace of mind. He looks like he will hunt her until the end of time and the edge of the earth – because he finds someone guilty long before the law agrees or disagrees with his findings. He looks like the kind of passionate policeman that would always bring trouble on her family, back in the day.
"Still we would like to take a look around," the man on the right finally speaks, and he sounds rather bored with the whole situation. "Monsieur Javert and I have every right to search your rooms, so if you would please direct us there."
That makes her stop in her tracks immediately, because not only does she know the name of Javert as the name of the man who doggedly pursued her father until he finally got him – at least temporarily – but they want to see her room too. Her room is the place where the transformed statue is currently hiding, where he has been instructed to stay unless she tells him otherwise. She cannot even count all of the ways in which this is bad news for her and for Enjolras – they cannot find him.
"My room is a mess," she starts stammering, not knowing what else to say.
"I am sure we will be able to find everything we need," Javert speaks.
And that would be the problem, them finding everything they need in her room. Because that would also be everything they need to put her behind bars for a very long time – they do not need any real evidence when they find the former statue live in the flesh, casually hanging out in her room. They would not be able to explain it, but they sure as hell would be able to arrest her for theft and some miscellaneous others things that they could cook up to fill the gaps that her story still has.
They could question Enjolras and make him tell them everything – and he would be locked up in an institution somewhere without ever having even the slightest possibility of getting out. The mere thought of that hurts, and that is without wondering what will happen to her because they will obviously think that she is the sane one cooking up this grand plan. Her last name is never going to do her any favors.
"Can you at least give me a minute to clean up my underwear?" she pleads.
The gendarmes start to basically frog march her up the stairs while she tries to think of ways in which she can alert Enjolras to the presence of the cops without seeming too suspicious. Also, she would need to give him enough time to get out of the room somehow, but the only door is the one they are now steadily approaching. There is no other way out of that room except for the window, and since this room is on the third floor, there is no way that someone could fall out of the window and be okay.
"I swear there's some really weird stuff on the floor," she starts thinking of more stupid excuses to use. "Please just let me clean up my underwear. There might be used condoms on the floor somewhere, just please let me throw that stuff out first."
If the police officers are going to search her room and she needs an excuse, she might as well use the same bullshit story that she used in front of her roommates the night before. She might as well stick with the one night stand story and hope that enough sticks for them to give her a few seconds to work her statue out of the room so that they don't both get arrested and left to rot in jail for the rest of their lives.
Oh God, what if they find Enjolras and think that he stole the statue? They are going to think that she is involved in it somehow. These gendarmes are going to think that she is his accomplice and that they are part of some grand team of con-artists and thieves. She is going to have to spend the rest of her life in jail.
What if they give her the death penalty? Does France have the death penalty? She is going to get a needle in her arm just because she started talking to a stupid statue and he somehow decided to listen to her and wake the fuck up.
Why did she even come to this stupid town in the first place?
"I'm sure the lucky fellow left already," asshole cop is grinning at her.
Yep, she is giving this one a nickname since he has not given her his real name. He is smirking at her and eyeing her cleavage like some pervert and he is all around making her more uncomfortable than Javert the bloodhound. She would rather have Javert chasing her for the rest of this life than to have this guy anywhere near her for any longer than is absolutely necessary. But alas, she has absolutely no choice in this particular scenario, and there is nothing that she hates more than having no choices and having her back against the wall with nowhere to go but down all the bad roads.
She remembers going down all of the bad roads when she was younger and more stupid, and now she is left wondering if going with Enjolras on his weird story might not be the stupidest road that she has ever travelled on.
Still, telling on him to the cops might be the worst idea to try, even if this stupid plan is going to get her a needle in the arm and a death that comes too soon.
"Just give me a few seconds to clean up some of the mess," she pleads for the last time.
"No," Javert is firm in his refusal, and her shoulders sag.
In her head, she is silently saying her last goodbyes to Jehan and R, reminding them that they are nuts about each other and they should just do it already and save everyone else the pain of watching them make eyes at each other and create dramatic obstacles that are not actually there. She is reminding them that there are several pints of their favorite ice cream in the fridge and that there is a good movie on the TV that they might watch together in lieu of fighting. She is tired of the sadness and the melancholy, and if these idiots have to do it without her nothing will ever happen.
"Fuck," she pretends to trip on the stairs, making as much noise as she can.
If nothing else she has done has alerted Enjolras to the fact that something has gone completely wrong and he needs to make himself scarce in whatever way that he possibly can, than nothing that she can do will get the message through to him. There is no other way that she can think to use that will not get her arrested on even worse charges than she already might be facing. She is just so fucking screwed!
"Stop the theatrics honey," asshole cop forcibly hoists her back onto her feet.
"Stop calling me honey, honey," she mutters under her breath.
Whether or not Javert actually heard her or if he just chose that moment to let out a sharp cough, she will never know. Still, she is too distracted by them reaching the door to her safe haven – her safe haven that will soon lose that safe status.
"Please open the door miss Thénardier," Javert then asks, sounding almost polite.
The door handle almost slips from her clammy hands, but she merely grips it tighter and pushes it down, opening the door. She closes her eyes for a final prayer that she is not going to end up on an electric chair and then gives the door a final push.
With a deep breath, she then opens her eyes and prepares to give Enjolras an apologetic look – only she finds that the room is perfectly spotless. The sweaters that were lying around on the chair and the desk are folded and back in the closet, her shirts and jeans are in the hamper and her pajama shirt is left on the bed, neatly folded. Heck, even the bed has been made, and it looks like she could bounce a quarter off it – just like she used to make the beds in her parents' old inn. The entire room is just, spotless.
"Oh yes, I can just see the underwear lying around," asshole cop comments, pushing her further into the room. "I cannot believe you'd leave this mess like this."
The entire room is also empty – she cannot see Enjolras anywhere. There isn't a single trace of him left; none of his clothes are lying around, and she cannot spot a single blond curl on any of the furniture. He simply is not there!
Even the bathroom door is open, and the stack of towels appears more perfect than she had left them a few days before. It looks as if someone ordered a maid service in her absence and the maid thought she was getting the biggest tip in her career. She cannot see a single speck of dust or a single object that is out of place!
Her sketchpads are perfectly stacked on the desk – she is going to have to kill him if he took the time to look at the drawings and discover how obsessed she was with him until he actually came to life almost in front of her. She might actually have to kill him and risk jail time and the needle if he saw any of her drawings – especially the nudes.
"Excuse me," Javert pushes past her stunned self.
Asshole cop is long gone into the room, messing up the perfect organizational system that Enjolras has apparently said up in her short absence. He is throwing everything to the floor and it now physically pains her to see her statue's hard work destroyed without any care or regard. She feels her hands clenching into fists.
"Looks like your date cleaned up before he hightailed it out of here," asshole cop just has to comment. "I'm sure he just really had to be somewhere."
Yep, she is about five seconds away from punching this guy in the face; her fists clenched up and ready to risk an assault charge just to get the satisfaction of watching this guy fall to the floor. At this point he is being an asshole for no reason, and she would prefer Javert's vendetta against anyone named Thénardier over being treated without any kind of respect for her as a person. Any more comments and she'll punch him – hard.
"Felix, that's enough," Javert seems to be as fed up with this as she is.
For a few seconds she is actually grateful, until she realizes that this is Javert and that he hates her and her entire family. So she sends a petulant glare at both of the cops and she sits down on the couch, pondering the magic that must have gone into Enjolras' disappearance from her attic room. Because there is no other way for him to disappear like this; even the space under the bed is completely empty. It was not empty before, so Enjolras did have the time to clean it before he mysteriously disappeared.
Everything in the room has had the chance to be completely spotless for a second before these gendarmes made a bigger mess than this room was before Enjolras got his hands on all of her things. She might have time to thank Enjolras for the quick cleaning job if they manage to stay out of jail. That does not seem very likely, though.
"Nothing," asshole Felix mutters under his breath.
"If that is all?" she questions, trying not to grin at the smug asshole.
She wishes that she could see him eat dirt for a little while more, his nicely pressed clothes ruined by the digging around her room for anything that he could find that might possibly incriminate her. But there is absolutely nothing in her room that links her to the disappearance of the statue, even though the very much alive man who used to be said statue was in her bed about an hour ago. The world has become a very strange place.
"This is not over," the asshole warns her with a smug grin.
"Please do not leave town until this investigation is over," Javert sticks with the typical formalities as he moves past her and away from the attic.
"Of course," is all that she says in response to that. "Good day, messieurs."
The way she waves them goodbye is positively drenched in sarcasm, but she does it anyway, no matter how much it is going to piss them off. She does not care if they like her or hate her; right now she is just so very glad to see the back of them, at least for the time being. Right now she just needs to sit in her room and wonder just what the hell happened to Enjolras and how he possibly could have disappeared like that.
"Enjolras?" she whispers after the gendarmes have gone down the stairs.
There is no answer, just a creak of the stairs on the ground floor and a loud slam of the door. The gendarmes have left the house and she is left stunned and alone in her attic room, wondering if she is ever going to see Enjolras again.
What if this was the thing that made him disappear somehow and the gendarmes are going to go back to the museum and find the statue in his same old spot? What if this made the curse come back and left him marble again? She worries that this curse is real and that she has made it impossible for him to ever break the curse (again).
Right now she just hates herself a lot – for all of this.
"Where are you?" she almost raises her voice to a normal volume.
She stomps into the bathroom, expecting to find him hidden behind a shower curtain or something equally stupid, but yet again she only finds the empty room. The tiles are clean and the towels are still stacked perfectly – somehow asshole Felix did not get to these – but there is not even a trace of Enjolras to be found.
"Damn it you idiot," she mutters before strutting out of the bathroom.
The window seems like the next logical place to look, because even though a third floor window does not seem like the most logical exit plan that Enjolras could have used, she does not know him well enough to be able to tell what he would do – for all she knows he has some kind of special powers. For all she knows he just flew out of the window and disappeared into the big, big world never to return to Musain.
Yeah, okay, that does sound ridiculous, even for him.
"Fuck," she stubs her toe on the table that asshole Felix moved.
Nothing is where it is supposed to be, so she just moves to the window because at least that hasn't moved in the last ten minutes. The view has not changed either, because the gendarmes are long gone, so she is left with a pretty decent view of the garden. As usual, the damn garden is completely empty.
Then, she sees a flash of gold in one of the bushes, and she gets it.
"Son of a bitch," she groans.
She breaks into a run, practically flying out of her attic room and down the stairs, flying past a very confused Jehan and a very intrigued R. There is a brief pause when she tries to remember which door she needs to take so that she can get to the back garden without Enjolras noticing her approach and fleeing the scene. Then she remembers and tiptoes in the direction of the door before deciding speed is the better choice.
If she is fast enough, she might actually be able to surprise him and keep him from trying to get away. If only she is fast enough, she might be able to keep hiding him from the gendarmes and from her roommates as well. She doubts that this is in any way possible, but she is still going to give it a shot. She has to give this a try.
She puts some of her training to good use as she sneaks into the garden, being as light-footed as she can possibly be. It is one of the few skills from her slightly criminal skillset that she still uses from time to time, and one that she finds fun to use to freak people out a little or to go about mostly unnoticed. Maybe one night at the bar she can tip off Musichetta and freak the guys out a lot and have Chetta tape some blackmail material of the lot of them wailing like babies. That should be a lot of fun.
Apparently the bushes have developed golden curls, since there are hints of gold peaking out even through the shades of green.
"Found you," she says matter-of-factly.
That makes him curl into himself more for a second, as if he can hide from her in any way after she has already seen him hiding in the bush. The red shirt is a dead giveaway and the golden curls catch the sunlight every single time he even tries to make a move – now that she knows he is in the garden she cannot lose him again.
He can try to hide, but she just found out he's quite good at that.
Actually, she is kind of glad that he managed to hide himself so well when the police were searching her rooms, but she would have liked to know that he hid himself before she started freaking out that she was about to get the electric chair.
"You startled me," he looks up at her, not even climbing out of the bushes.
He apparently was so absorbed in the book he appeared to be reading that he did not notice her entering the garden and sneaking up on him. She cannot tell what book he was staring at so intensely, but she is sure that he will learn something from it – she has very little books and most of the books in the attic belong to the boys. Those books are explicit and modern, a lot of Beat literature that would shock the sensibilities of a lot of people. Enjolras would be disgusted with Burroughs, and confused by Kerouac.
But since he isn't flinching or looking at anything in disgust, she thinks he might have found Jehan's poetry collection instead, enraptured as he seems by this book. Jehan has quite the collection, and if she were that kind of girl, she would ask Enjolras to read these out to her to hear what they sound like in his voice – all proper and cultured and deep. She would love to appreciate poetry in the way that she does art.
"How did you get here?" she asks. "How did you manage to get to the attic from the garden without alerting the gendarmes? You scared the shit out of me! I thought I was going to be arrested! And what, you spirited away with your magic powers?"
So she might be coming across as more than a bit hysterical, but at this point she is just beyond caring. So much has happens in the last twenty-four hours that she fears her head might explode if there is even one more twist added to her story. Her heart is still pounding from her encounter with the gendarmes, for fuck's sake!
"I climbed down on that pipe," Enjolras climbs out of the bushes and points to the drainpipe on the side of the house. "I heard the approach of the two police officers and decided that it would be best if I made myself scarce."
Still he remains so polite, even when she is this close to yelling at him for scaring and worrying her, acting like he is some little kid and she is his caretaker. She almost wants to tear her hair out; her messy dark locks all gone because for several minutes she was sure that she was going to end up with a needle in her arm. For several minutes she was blaming him for the end of her life as she knew it.
"And you left me there to freak out?" she raises her voice because it's the only way she knows how to deal with this. "You cleaned up my entire room – for which I thank you – and then you bailed and didn't let me know where you were?"
She tries really hard not to notice how the red shirt clings to his body as he finally stands up straight in front of her. He is no longer hiding and while that might be dangerous if the gendarmes even think of going back, she appreciates that he is standing up and looking her in the eyes for this conversation. This is not a conversation that she particularly wants to be having in the first place, let alone when he's pouting in the bushes and she has to yell at him like he is some kind of errant child.
"I thought it a good show of thanks to clean up some of the mess in the room," he says.
Her sore feet are thankful for that because after a ten hour day at the museum the last thing that she wants to do is clean under her bed or fold the clothes that she is going to make a mess of anyway. Her feet always hurt after this entire day of being on them and she is tired of everything and she just wants to eat and sleep and not bother with stupid things like messes. So yeah, having him as a temporary maid was nice.
"So why the Houdini antics?" she wants him to keep talking.
"To what kind of antics are you referring?" the reference goes right over his head.
Oh fucking hell, this is just one of the problems with him being a statue come to life: he has no idea what the fuck is going on at this point in time and any reference she makes is just going to go right over his head because he was marble when the reference became a thing. Unless she can think of something Shakespearean, there is no joke that she can make that he will actually understand. She likes her jokes, and while she knows her art history, she has no doubt that she is vague on a lot of the actual history. She is either going to have to teach him about this whole new world, or she is going to have to do some serious history research if she ever wants to be able to understand him.
"What year are you even from?" she looks to the heavens, tired and exasperated.
"I do not feel comfortable discussing this with you," he looks down instead.
Ah yes, more secrets, because that is just what she needs right now. She finally believes that he really is this protesting man who was made into marble by magic or some kind of dark curse, and he refuses to talk about it. That's just neat.
"I'm telling you I believe your stupid curse story and that's how you respond?" she is completely ready to just throw in the towel and leave him to it.
"It is not a story, mademoiselle," he emphasizes the title.
People have called her the queen of distancing herself, but that means that Enjolras would have to be her king – not only will he not talk to her, he is now reverting back to a title rather than referring to her by name. She really thought that they were making progress, but apparently that was not going to happen, just because he was not going to let it. He is being a hypocrite – she has told him everything about herself already!
"Stop that!" she scrunches up her face and clenches her fists.
"This is my life and you refuse to acknowledge it," he raises his voice. "When one looks at it like that it is quite reasonable of me to feel uncomfortable talking about this with you."
It is not her fault that his life sounds like it comes straight out of some kind of storybook, and it is exactly the kind of story that she had already stopped believing in by the time she started school. She had to grow up fast and deal with the real world at a very young age and in the real world statues did not turn into flesh and blood people – that kind of shit only happened to Pinocchio. Enjolras does not have a growing nose, though.
"I don't give a shit about reasonable!" she scoffs. "I had to lie to the cops for you today! I could have gone to jail for years over this and you won't even tell me your first name! You won't tell me a damn thing about yourself – but you know all about me."
Her chin is raised so that she is able to look straight into his eyes, so she almost misses it when he tries to hide away the book that he was looking at before. The lines on the outside cover of the book are way too familiar, and then she realizes the reason why this book is so familiar to her: the book is actually hers. It is her latest sketchbook, the one that was supposed to be on top of the pile because she was going to hide it away somewhere so that he wouldn't find it. The thing consists for about 95% of sketches of him and he has not only found it, he has actively taken the time to look at it.
"Give me my sketches," she holds out her hand, practically fuming. "Those are private!"
Enjolras is supposed to be a gentleman so he is supposed to give her back her sketches without so much as another word – but apparently he is not the kind of person she thought he was, because instead of giving it back he holds it over his head and far out of her reach. She is this close to punching him and taking the book by force.
"You are a talented artist," Enjolras tells her, still holding the book up high.
"I so do not need your insincere compliments right now," she tells him, completely done with all of this bullshit. "Just give me the damn sketchpad and stop trying to pry in my life when you won't even tell me a damn thing about your fucking life!"
She makes a desperate grab for the sketches but he is too tall for her to be able to reach them. The curses she lets out do not bear repeating, their significance is mostly in the way these words make him blush and lose his way – somehow managing to keep her sketchpad out of her reach even with his embarrassment.
"Well hello there," she hears R's voice behind her and almost jumps.
Stepping away from Enjolras like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar, she starts thinking of excuses in her head. Still she thinks that sticking with the idea of him being her one night stand would be the best idea – that is if they don't get too close to him.
"Is this the guy from last night?" Jehan seems intrigued by that idea.
Of course since these two have been in Musain for a large part of their lives, they would know just about everyone in the town and Enjolras would not look familiar – at least not in that way. He would just be someone new to them, and she has to prepare for that and their damn curiosity and their need to know about everything.
"Is he new in town?" Jehan asks another question. "Why is he hiding in the garden?"
She expected a some kind of smartass comment from R at this point, but when she looks at him to tease him about being way too quiet, she finds him with a look on his face that almost takes her breath away. He looks completely entranced and entirely amazed by Enjolras, and for a second there she is worried that he is going to throw over Jehan to get a chance with Enjolras. She is worried that this look is a sign of some kind of sexual tension going on between him and Enjolras – if that is the case she is going to have to smack both of them because she will be damned if they hurt Jehan's feelings like that!
For a second she lets herself believe in this stupid idea of R and Enjolras having this weird sexual tension, and then she sees that R appears to be staring at Jehan as well. He is just surprised by Enjolras – and that's when she realizes R has figured out his identity and he believes! R, the resident cynic, actually believes!
For some reason R has believed this piece of town folklore, this glorified fairy tale about the protesting man being turned into marble. For some reason R still believes it now, staring at Enjolras like he has just seen a ghost, and for him Enjolras is a sort of ghost from his less than cynical moments coming to life and showing him that maybe hanging on to this story is not a bad thing. It is showing him that people do get second chances, and after everything R has been through and everything he has done, he can still have the opportunity for a second chance. If only he would just take that chance!
If only Enjolras would realize that this is his second chance to actually live!
AN: Thanks so much for reading! Thanks for all the love! Please let me know what you think, and what your favorite parts/lines were!