12/8/13

This will be coming to a close soon but I am going to write a sequel ;) Would anyone be interested?

Chapter 7

When Combeferre awoke, all was silent; he was laid in a pristine white hospital. His lungs felt free again and his body was blissfully cold. But his wellbeing was not the primary concern; he needed to see Enjolras and Grantaire, he needed to know that they were both alright before he could ever think of looking after himself. They were his brothers; he would die for them. It took a few minutes before he could sit up properly but his wounds, thankfully, did not look too severe and a few nights of rest should put him right. He was just standing up when a pretty little nurse hurried into his room. "Sir, you shouldn't be moving around," she insisted, skittering over but he just brushed her off.

"I need to see two other patients that are in custody of the FBI!" he insisted but she just fussed around him and pushed him into bed again.

"I have instructions not to let you leave this room until the doctor says you are fully fit," she insisted much to Combeferre's despair.

"I need to see the agents!" he shouted and pushed her away but stumbled himself.

"Calm down sweetheart," a familiar voice giggled from the doorway and Combeferre froze.

"Lark!" Combeferre exclaimed with a smile at the pretty blonde stood in the doorway.

Lark was Cosette's field name. Cosette was his base operative along with her fiancé Marius. Each squad needed a techie and a base agent that stayed in the office or the stake out van. They were the ones who monitored cameras and audio feeds before reporting directly to Combeferre. Plus she was the sweetest little thing you will ever meet. "I heard you were kicking up a little bit of a fuss and thought I might be able to help out," she chuckled, helping him back into bed.

"How are E and R?" he asked frantically as Cosette coerced him into bed.

"E is recovering nicely and it is looking like he will be allowed out of bed in a week or so. He is suffering from broken bones and a serious concussion but thankfully there was no internal damage done," she explained and Combeferre let out a strange noise that seemed to be a mangled combination of joy and relief. "But C…R is not in good shape," Cosette mumbled with tears in her eyes. Everyone loved Grantaire, he was the heart of the unit; he laughed, he partied and he enjoyed life as well as doing his job well. "He's in a coma and the extents of his injuries are further than anyone thought. It seems like he is stable but there will be a lot of scarring and until he wakes up, nobody knows if anything is paralysed," she explained and Combeferre stared at her in horror. It was all his fault; if he had just gotten Grantaire out faster then he might have been okay. Cosette snapped him out of his self-hatred with a soft stroke to his cheek. "You did all you could, don't blame yourself sweetie," Cosette soothed, and Combeferre did feel his heart calming. "Now you need to behave yourself for twelve more hours then they will discharge you," she chuckled, standing up. "And you can go see to your friends," Cosette smiled before she left.

If the hospital thought Combeferre was a trouble patient then they had never had the pleasure of meeting Enjolras. Cosette hesitantly pushed the door open to find his room full of doctors and nurses that had the pleasure of Enjolras screaming profanities as them every time he was forced back into bed. Cosette rolled her eyes and pushed through the crowd and stood by Enjolras' bed. "E, bed! Now!" she shouted and the room fell silent. Enjolras edged back into bed from the full power of Cosette's glare. "The rest of you, out!" she demanded. Cosette hated this part of the job; it was like dealing with a bunch of toddlers during temper tantrums. The nurses and doctors scuttled out, leaving the two agents alone. Enjolras was weak and pale but the fire still raged in his rolling blue eyes.

"I need to see R!" Enjolras exclaimed and his eyes pleaded with Cosette.

"Patience E. I have talked with the doctors and they say that in a day you can move into R's room and rest there. As long as you behave today," she insisted firmly and Enjolras nodded like a frantic bobble head.

"How is he?" Enjolras asked cautiously; all the doctors had refused to tell him anything about his husband and replied saying 'It is too early to tell' every time he asked, which was very often.

"It's not good," she sighed, there was no point lying to him now. It would just make it harder for him to bear later. Enjolras tensed and his shaking hands gripped the bed sheets in an iron fist. "He is in a coma as his wounds heal. Combeferre got to him just in time. He's going to be scarred for life and the doctors think that he may be paralyzed from the waist down," she stated softly and held Enjolras close as the tears started to stream down his bruised face. "It's all gonna be okay E," she whispered in his knotted blonde curls as he silently sobbed into her shirt.

The next day you could find the inseparable trio in Grantaire's room. The doctors had reluctantly pushed another cot into Grantaire's private room after a lecture from Combeferre about how keeping Enjolras and Grantaire apart would just cause more injury to Enjolras as he found ways to visit his husband. Enjolras was curled up on the mattress with his head resting on Combeferre's stomach. Combeferre was restlessly dozing off but he just couldn't sleep. The past week had finally hit home and was taking its toll on his already weary body. But his mind never stopped whirring; he knew that the sadist who did this would be back. "If I can't have the pretty boy then no one will."The statement kept rolling around in his mind. He knew it meant that she would kill Grantaire if he couldn't stay with her. But after hours and hours of only thinking about what had happened, an alternate meaning presented itself; she wanted him to be scarred and maybe disfigured in the hope that no one would love him if he wasn't as handsome and he would come to her for affection. Combeferre knew that wouldn't happen; Enjolras would love Grantaire no matter what.

Grantaire could see and hear the other two agents. It was like he was in an out of body experience; he was watching himself laid unconscious on the bed but more importantly he could see Enjolras. He hadn't seen Enjolras since this all began, when he was in control of his own mind that is. Even battered and bruised as he was currently, Enjolras was still beautiful. Grantaire just wanted to reach out and brush his mattered golden curls any from his marble face, but he was just a spirit. Every attempt at a touch, his hand passed through and he couldn't feel a thing. Grantaire had deliberately avoided looking at his own body but the comatose corpse caught his eye. His body looked frail and brittle, as if a gust of wind could blow him away. Burns covered the right side of his face in an angry red flame; he had heard the doctors say that it hadn't damaged his eyes or ears so all senses should be functioning. His chest was scarred and a couple of broken ribs jutted out but no internal organs pierced; another stroke of amazing luck. The only concerns he had heard were his shoulder and legs. Where the hook used to pierce through his shoulder had been strapped up and a metal rod inserted to support the broken bone and shredded muscle; it should heal so he would have full use once again. But he had heard the hushed tones, mumbled words, sympathetic looks; it was doubtful he would ever regain use of his legs. They had been broken too much and too long; the fire had burnt the skin and muscles. It would never repair. The doctors said there was hope; Grantaire was not an optimist, he was a realist.