25/8/13

This is the final chapter but … I am going to write a sequel to this! So I will probably get a few chapters in hand and get a fair way through before I post it up here put I will put a message at the end of this story to tell you.

P.S – I am now on FictonPress to put my novel attempt up. Search guineamania to find me! It would mean the world if people would help me improve it.

Epilogue

It was about a month before Enjolras and Grantaire were released from the hospital. Combeferre had been allowed out much sooner and went back to work to clean up after the failed operation. It took a week for Grantaire to wake from his deep sleep and Enjolras could honestly say that was the best day of his life. All seemed to be well despite none of the three coming out unscarred. Combeferre had slight discolouration on his hands and the bases of his feet were tender but nothing serious. Enjolras had his arm in a pot and slight bruising on his chest but was personally happy they all had made it out of this disaster alive. Grantaire, however, was a different matter entirely. He had come out of this much worse for wear; his usually unruly brown hair was trimmed incredibly short to deal with the burns and the whole of the right side of his face was discoloured, the arm that he was hung from rested in a sling but fortunately he could move it easily. But that was not all; the incident had left him paralysed from the waist down. The physiotherapists said that eventually he may be able to walk once again but for now he was stuck in a wheelchair. Both men had been called back to the FBI headquarters as soon as they were discharged. They had nowhere to go anymore anyway. The FBI had deemed their apartment unsafe and moved all their belongings to a FBI storage warehouse for safe keeping.

Combeferre had kept the two injured agents in the loop as regards their captor. The woman had never been found but they had a name: Eliza Harper. She had committed minor crimes throughout the years so her face and voice were on file. Combeferre was head of the investigation, mostly because anyone who stood in his way should fear for their lives. When it came to his friends and family all protocol flew out the window. Enjolras and Grantaire were picked up round the back of the hospital in a dark car and it sped towards the building both men had spent most of their lives. Both were silent, still recovering mentally from their ordeal. Enjolras slowly stroked Grantaire's limp leg with his fingers with a tender affection. Grantaire softly smiled at him and took his hand in his own. "We'll be fine, Enjy," Grantaire mumbled as he traced circles on the back of his lover's hand.

"As long as we are together," Enjolras nodded. Grantaire leant over and laid his head on Enjolras' shoulder as they waited to arrive. What was said here would decide which road their life would take; they could never go back to being agents again. Their identities were revealed and Grantaire's injury would only leave him on deskwork anyway; that was no way to live.

The car pulled to a standstill and Enjolras was the first out. He unloaded Grantaire's collapsible wheelchair from the boot and set it at the now open door before the driver could even move to offer assistance. He knew that help from anyone else would make Grantaire feel ashamed; and he didn't trust his lover's wellbeing in the hands of anyone else anyway. He helped Grantaire swing himself into it using leverage on his arms and loitered next to the handles just in case Grantaire needed him to push. He had always been protective of Grantaire but before the incident, the other agent could look after himself; now he was weaker and would need more protection, but not too much protection. It was a fine line to walk on. Grantaire wheeled himself into the lift and sat next to Enjolras, who felt as nervous as he did the first time he rode up in the stainless steel box. Grantaire, despite his best efforts, sat there with his eyes screwed tightly shut and started subtly trembling. Enjolras massaged his lover's shoulder blade to reassure him that everything was well. Grantaire's shaking subsided at Enjolras' touch but his eyes still remained firmly closed in fear. As soon of the lift stopped and the doors were opened, Grantaire was flying out into the open space as fast as the wheelchair would allow it. Enjolras followed at a slightly more subdued pace, apologising to the people Grantaire had shoved out of the way in his hasty retreat. Grantaire finally slowed when he was at the doors to the meeting room and well away from the box of doom as he had now christened all lifts. Enjolras stood skill next to him and ruffled Grantaire's hair affectionately before pushing the door open to where their fate would be decided.

Strangely, the only person sat in the room was Combeferre. Enjolras had assumed it would be a massive group of all officials coming to interrogate them; it was a pleasant surprise. "Come, sit down," Combeferre waved them over and the trio gathered round the table. In front of Combeferre sat a singular file. "You have both been placed in witness protection," Combeferre stated in his usual blunt manner. "Eliza is still out there and if you carry on living how you are then she could find you," he added and both men nodded, they knew this was the most likely outcome. "In here is all you both need to know about your new identities. You are now Julien and Nicolas Sharp, a newlywed couple from New York. You will live in a remote village in the Yorkshire Dales, England. Julien, you are an ex NYPD detective and Nicolas, you were his partner. Nic, you were a volunteer fire fighter who was caught in a forest fire. Enjolras, you retired to look after Nic and you both moved. You will have to find your own jobs but for the first year the FBI will pay you both a hefty pension," Combeferre explained, obviously attempting to keep his own emotions in check. "I have argued your case and both me and Eponine will be able to visit as long as we are careful," he offered a weak smile and Enjolras hugged him tenderly, careful of their injuries.

"I'll miss you," Enjolras whispered.

"I'll miss you too," Combeferre sighed.

Grantaire was reading through the file on the plane. He was doing anything to distract himself from the fact he was in a flying metal tube. He was sat on the window seat, despite the hassle getting him there because the window meant he wasn't as trapped. Small comforts indeed. Enjolras was fast asleep on his shoulder but the blonde was still gripping onto his shirt as if Grantaire would be lost again if Enjolras wasn't holding onto him. The plane bumped to land and Enjolras woke up. It wasn't long before they were through luggage reclaim and border control with their new identities; Mr. and Mr. Sharp…that would take some getting used to. It was a three quarter of an hour drive to their new home in the shiny new FBI provided car. Enjolras stood outside their front door, Grantaire's hand in his own and smiled. It was a beautiful two bedroom bungalow with a massive garden, all part accessible by wheelchair; beautiful. "Welcome home," Enjolras sighed with a smile and pushed open the door to their new life.