A/N: Well now, I live, frighteningly enough. I know I've been a bit behind (understatement) but I had the pleasure of seeing Les Mis on stage on Saturday and it has renewed my wish to write on this fandom. It was beautifully done with, surprisingly, tons of interesting moments between Enjolras and Grantaire. My best friend (known as Anna Maxwell on this site was with me and we o so enjoyed the 'could it be you're afraid to die' moment and the wine bottle salute. 'nuff said.

Chapter Twelve: Plans to be formed

The young men of Les Amis sat in the main room of Enjolras' flat, all looking quite anxious. Combeferre was eyeing his pistol that he'd pulled on the man that now sat alone with their leader in the second room. He couldn't believe that they'd agreed, after Marius' news, to allow the two privacy for this discussion. Enjolras had always been idealistic to a dangerous extent, Combeferre knew, but this trust in a man that never had deserved it might be his downfall.

"I'm going in there," Grantaire growled as he stood from his chair, swaying a bit as he did so.

"We promised we wouldn't," Joly murmured sadly.

"To hell with the promise," Courfeyrac responded sharply. "I haven't heard anything in there for five minutes."

"It's been ten by my watch," Marius noted as he pulled his pocket watch from his jacket, holding it before him in a thoughtful manner.

They all turned to Combeferre, as if waiting for his go ahead. The young student suddenly realized all eyes were locked on him and he let his hands drop, the gun resting against the chair. "I don't like it, but Enjolras would have called out if something had happened."

"Not if he were already unconscious," Courfeyrac countered.

Before Combeferre had time to answer the door to the room was opened. Bouvet stood behind Enjolras, dark eyes looking downward and following like one full of humility next to the great god. The revolutionary leader stepped forth, eyes locking with each of his men in turn, holding Grantaire's gaze in the end, a smile perking his lips. "I believe there was a moment in which you said that my father deserved a good slap, didn't you, Grantaire?"

The drunkard choked back a sudden laugh, mind flashing back to the one time that he'd gotten their leader a wee bit tipsy and the conversation had been brought up. It seemed like so long ago now. "I'm surprised your remember that, but yeah. Has the time finally come?"

"Nicolas Enjolras is trying to gain the throne through this," Bouvet said quietly. "His plan is to use all of you to take the king out of power and then call you for treason."

"The long of the short of it, it would seem, as Nicolas Enjolras always plans things down to the last detail," Combeferre murmured quietly. "How long has he been planning this?"

"Are you believing this man?" Courfeyrac gasped.

"Just a question, my friend."

"I can't say," Bouvet answered truthfully, "as he informs as few people of as little as possible. It's highly likely that I don't even know the entirety of the plan."

"It's quite likely that he knows details on every one of us," Enjolras said thoughtfully. "Each weakness, each strength. Tight bonds and ones only newly formed." He glanced up at Grantaire, their eyes briefly locking. Combeferre watched this in question, knowing there was a silent conversation taking place between the drunkard and the leader.

A silence fell over each of the revolutionaries until Courfeyrac broke it. "Then he must die." All eyes turned to their womanizing friend and he stood in his proclamation. "If he is to kill us all off, shouldn't we have at him first? Who knows if the king even knows that we won, if this is all some trick that Enjolras' father is pulling. To do away with him would be to secure everything we've fought for."

Enjolras went very pale at this idea and looked as if he might fall over. Combeferre put a steady hand on his arm and eased him down. "Perhaps this should be discussed-"

"At a later time?" Courfeyrac asked sarcastically. "When we're dead, then. Enjolras, you won't dally around, will you?"

"No," the revolutionary breathed. "We should not, but…"

"But it is still your father," Grantaire murmured softly, taking a seat on the floor next to his idol. Enjolras seemed to relax a bit with his presents, allowing his shoulders to droop and his eyelids to lull, showing the exhaustion he'd been struggling to keep at bay. He felt the drunkard's hand on his shoulder. "A day more won't hurt anything," Grantaire assured Courfeyrac, who seemed quite irritated by it.

"I agree," Combeferre piped up. "But, Enjolras, what shall you have us do with him?"

Enjolras looked upward at Bouvet. "You should return to my father as if nothing were wrong. Tell him…" He paused, thinking. His eyes closed for a moment and everyone thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep, but they opened once more, clearer this time with an idea. "Perhaps we should force him into action before he's ready. Everything is not in place, I'd assume?"

"No, not yet," Bouvet answered. "It… would be a problem for him if he were forced into something."

"He needs us to take down the king," Enjolras said with a small smile perking his lips and a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Tell my father that I've taken a serious turn for the worse and everything is falling apart. Combeferre has nearly cracked under the stress, Courfeyrac – I'm sorry old friend – has just about given up in frustration, and things are a general disaster on our end."

"All so quickly?"

"It could happen as quickly as things have been building as it is," Enjolras answered confidently. "He wouldn't know that Marius is here, but to be safe I'd say you should return to Monsieur Valjean, Marius."

"Certainly. If that is your wish."

Bouvet stood in thought a moment. "Very well. I hope this works, Enjolras, for your sake, as well as the Republic's." With that, he was out the door and off to his new duty, leaving Les Amis behind.

"Then I should be off," Marius murmured, pulling his coat to drape over his shoulders.

Courfeyrac looked discontented. "I don't trust him, Enjolras."

"Neither do I, fully, but we are in quite a tight spot with little to do about it," their leader answered softly. "Marius, we will stay in touch, don't worry. You'll be kept abreast of all the happenings. Do you have someone you can send back here to take a letter? Your girl, perhaps?"

"I shouldn't want to put Cosette in any danger," Marius answered.

"She wouldn't be as long as she could kept from being seen. We'll send Gavroche then." The boy lit up at this.

"Very well," Marius said as he tipped his head in adieu and left the flat.

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It was evening by the time that Combeferre finally had Enjolras down in his bed and seemed to be settled in to rest. "You worry a bit too much," the blond said quietly.

"I worry not enough, or you'd be down more." He shook his head, smiling. "But then you would not be you, would you? Rest well. I think I'll have Grantaire in here on a pallet, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"You two get along much better now days."

"I suppose we do."

Combeferre stood looking at his old friend for a moment, watching him drift towards sleep. So very much had changed. "Sleep well," he murmured, stroking back the long blond hair and leaving him to it.

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Nicolas Enjolras was not pleased. He paced the large room, steely eyes locked on the floor before him in deep thought. "If what you tell me is true, we have little time."

"You question the validity of my report?" Bouvet asked quietly.

"Yes," the elder man answered as he turned and locked eyes with the National Guard. "If what you say is true, then it must be done tonight."

"What would you have me do, my lord?"

"I would have you rot with them as a traitor," Nicolas hissed.

Bouvet's eyes went wide and the door was flung open. Several men rushed in, guns drawn and aimed at him. "I… don't understand, sir. I've been nothing but loyal to you."

"If what you have been is called loyalty, then it is nothing anymore. You are under arrest, Monsieur Bouvet, for treason against the king. Your plan was half-hatched, at best, and you will pay for it. Do you think I haven't kept an eye on you as well, boy?"

"This is your own son you wish to send to the guillotine."

"Alexis is no son of mine, and it is time that it become known. I've set up an heir to my fortune and mind you, boy, this new heir will be loyal to his king, whomever that may be. Alexis' plans will never work, his Republic will fall, and his little friends with him." Nicolas turned to one of the men that had entered. "Go to his rooms. I want them all alive."

"All, sir?"

"All. I have uses for each of them. Arrest them in the name of the king." He watched them men leave and turned to Bouvet, held by the last. "You all played into my hands, and Bouvet, you helped most of all. More even when you chose to betray me. Take him away."

"You won't win this! Enjolras' people that he has so much faith in will rise up against you! You're signing your own death and ensuring the Reign of Terror again!"

"You're as much a fool as Alexis!" Nicolas cried triumphantly, eyes alight. "It is that very fact that I'm counting on."

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A/N: I was talking to a friend of mine who is studying to be a nurse, and if anyone cares, it is physically possible to be doing to Enjolras what I've been doing. He would be running on pure adrinalin at his point and crashing harder and harder each time, but he could very well be alive even with those wounds. Just thought you might be interested. :P

Tsunami Wave: Well, I hope this chapter was worth the horribly long wait… sorry about that.

Precious Angel: Thanks muchly. I'm rather glad Bouvet's switched sides too.

Melissa Brandybuck: Sorry it took me so long. Finally here.

Kagii: Aww! Thanks! That's really sweet! And now half the year later…. The next chapter!

No account name: It's not stopped, don't you worry.

Lieyan: 'tis updated!

Silveni: I suppose I would have never compared Nicolas and Lucious… both blond and scary, but other than that…. It's probably the stark differences between their sons that keeps me from really making the connection, but this man is about that caliber. We may all hate him. More power to it.

NothingToulouse: Well, the monster called University spit me out for the summer only to be gobbled by the monster called work. But ah well, that's less than school. I'll have this nice long week right before school when I'll be sitting in my apartment and I can say 'hello there! Time to work on my Les Mis fic!' and hopefully I'll do it….

Enjolras Freak: Quite the poet, eh? Bravo on that, by the way. Oh, and please don't die, but bribing always works. More money for the poor writer.

Anna Maxwell: I can't help but hear 'Drink with Me' without cracking up now. I just can't… Gooey moment, yes indeed. So here's the next chapter, and I've got a mind for where it's going now. I'm contemplating on how to put in more Saint Just quotes/things having to do with the French Revolution…. Oh, and kudos to you if you can find a comment that I know you will. Good 'ol Grantaire. How we love our R.

TBC

TS