CHAPTER 7 - THE FUNERAL

About dawn the next morning, Etienne began to stir. He was surprised that he had fallen asleep, and his neck was stiff from lying in the position he'd slumped across the bed in. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Then he realised that he was alone.

"Julien?" he called blearily, looking around the room. No answer.

Etienne shot to his feet quickly, pushing his curly hair out of his eyes. Where on earth could Julien be? He hoped to God that he hadn't gone and done something stupid, but after the state he'd been in last night, anything was possible.

Etienne hurriedly exited the room and crept quietly down the corridor; not wishing to disturb anyone and get Julien into trouble. He made his way to Christine's room, wondering if Julien had gone there to try and face his grief.

But no, when he opened the door, there was no sign of his blond friend. Christine still lay on the bed, her face ghostly white but serene and peaceful. With her blond curls and rose bud mouth, she looked like a sleeping angel. Rene was sleeping in a chair beside her bed. He looked as if he'd only just succumbed to slumber, so Etienne had no wish to wake him and worry by him by informing him of his brother's disappearance.

He shut the door as quietly as he had opened it and then proceeded down the wide, sweeping staircase to the bottom floor. The young medical student called Julien's name softly as he looked into the parlour, the morning room, the dining room, the library and even Monsieur Enjolras's study. Once again, there was no sign.

Etienne was truly beginning to worry. Surely Julien would not have returned to Paris without telling him? No, of course not, he'd never have left before Christine's funeral! But it where could he be? It was bucketing with rain – Etienne could hear it hammering against the windows – so it was doubtful that Julien had gone for a walk.

Unless….

With a sudden burst of insight, Etienne hurried to fetch a cape and hat. He pulled the garments on, before venturing outside into the torrential downpour.

The rain was coming down in sheets and hit him like a small force. How had the weather been able to change so suddenly? He held his cape about him tighter and shivered as he continued to hurry his way down the drive.

He continued to walk until he had left the Enjolras estate altogether and then proceeded in the direction of the church just outside the village. The ground was soft and damp; caking his boots in mud. He paid little attention to that – his mind was far more concerned with what he was going to do if Julien wasn't where he expected to find him.

The rain was falling even more heavily by the time Etienne reached the church. He was shivering slightly and his chestnut-brown queue was plastered to the back of his neck. He crossed the front of the church and made for the gate of the churchyard. His cold wet fingers fumbled with the catch of the large black iron gate. It swung open with a dull creak, leaving Etienne free to walk into the maze of grey granite and marble.

He knew which path to take. He and Julien had come here often in the years preceding their move to Paris, to pay their respects to a dead friend and brother. It was no great mystery as to which was the grave he would find Julien at.

He wound his way through the small cemetery to the far end, where all the richer people were buried; their gravestones embellished with angels and gold letters. He continued to walk until he saw a flash of blond hair and he let out a breath he hadn't realised that he'd been holding.

He positively ran around the remaining stones until he came to a sombre, oblong grey stone, on which the gold letters shone like a beacon in the dull rain.

Here lies

Nicolas Enjolras

1807-1821

A dear son and brother

Sadly Missed

And in front of this stone, kneeling on the ground with his head bent, was Julien.

He was wearing no cape, no hat; not even a jacket. He was still wearing the simple white shirt and black trousers he had worn the night before. He sat there, gazing at the gravestone as if in a trance, seemingly unaware he was not alone. With horror, Etienne noticed that he was absolutely soaked to the skin; his white shirt clamped and sticking to his body, showing every muscle, every contour of his torso. His blond hair, some of it falling out of its neat queue, was darkened by the water and stuck to the side of his face and the back of his head. He was shivering constantly.

"Julien." Etienne approached slowly, and knelt beside him. "Julien, can you hear me, mon ami?" Julien turned to face him, the pain in his eyes staggeringly deep. He looked dazed and pale. Etienne wondered if he had gone into shock.

"I just wanted to talk to him." he said simply, his voice barely more than a murmur. "I miss him."

"I know you do." Etienne nodded gently. "So do I. How long have you been out here?"

"I couldn't sleep. I needed to get out. I…I can't remember." replied Julien mechanically, his teeth chattering violently. Etienne reached for his hand and started at the icy touch of cold flesh.

"Good God!" he breathed anxiously. "You're freezing! Julien, you've got to come back now!"

"They must be so cold out here." whispered Julien sadly, shivering as the rain ran down his face. "I can't bear to think of them being so alone."

"Julien, please! You're going to get pneumonia!" pleaded Etienne, trying in vain to chafe some warmth into the hand he was holding. "Come back with me now."

Julien just nodded, unable to speak, and got to his feet. He stumbled, his legs cold and numb after kneeling for so long. Etienne put a supportive arm around him and they made their way slowly back to the grand manor on his father's estate as the rain continued to pour down around them.

Thankfully, no one else was astir when the two of them went into the hall, leaving a trail of mud and water as they walked. Julien winced uncomfortably as the heat of the house caused his frozen skin to flush and sting. Etienne pulled him up to his bedroom and ordered him to change and sit by the fire, before heading to his own room for a change of clothes.

When he returned, he found Julien obediently sitting in front of the fire, in dry clothes. He seemed more himself; his eyes were less distant and he was rubbing some warmth into his arms. He looked up as Etienne entered and went vividly red with shame. He couldn't believe he'd let his best friend see him act like that!

"You know I don't think any worse of you!" scolded Etienne, reading his thoughts, as he sat down beside him.

"I didn't mean to drag you out at this time in the morning!" Julien continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I…I don't know what came over me."

"You're grieving, Julien. That's all. And you know I did not mind" explained Etienne. It greatly saddened him to see the way his friend was afraid of being judged. For all his immense intelligence in areas of politics, law and history, Julien could be staggeringly naïve when it came to basic emotions. "Just let it out, mon frère. I cannot bear to see you suffering like this."

"I can't." Julien whispered, the strain in his voice very evident. "I want to, but I just…can't!"

"That's alright. There's no hurry." said Etienne, sitting down beside him and gathering him into a fraternal embrace. "But when you're ready, I'll be here for you."

"Thank you. I don't know why you put up with me."

"Because I would be exceedingly bored otherwise!" said Etienne affectionately, leaning his dark head against Julien's. "And because I couldn't do without you!"

OOO

The funeral was a tough affair, handled differently by everyone. Louis and Antoine whispered back and forth during the service, paying no attention whatsoever. Monsieur Enjolras was as cold and detached as ever, while his wife was slyly looking round to see who was all in attendance.

Doctor and Madame Combeferre were all there, with their four daughters; all of whom were very sad to have lost their friend. A couple of officers from the neighbouring regiment were also there. Etienne could have sworn he heard one of them whisper 'what a damned waste!'.

Rene had his head bowed respectfully, tears falling silently as he mourned. Etienne let his own tears fall without check as he sat next to Julien, keeping a close eye on his friend's actions. But Julien's face was blank and pale; so completely different from the heart stricken child who's wept for his brother eight years ago. The ghostly pallor of his skin was highlighted by the dark circled under his eyes. He looked utterly exhausted.

Etienne watched sorrowfully as Julien went forward to help bear her coffin to the churchyard and subsequently lowering it into the ground. The blond's hands were shaking – but he was still unable to show his grief on the outside.

OOO

Several of the more high-class attendees accompanied the family back to the house and sat as a sombre little gathering in the main parlour.

"How is Julien taking it?" Doctor Combeferre asked his son.

"Not very well, Papa." Etienne replied sadly, with an accusing look at Monsieur Enjolras. "He still hasn't cried and the grief is tearing him apart."

"Would you like me to talk to him?" offered the auburn-haired doctor kindly.

"No, thank you, Papa. He is already ashamed of himself for showing even a little pain this morning. I'll stick with him tonight and tomorrow and see if I can get him to open up. You know how he is, after the way his father berated him when Nicolas died, he thinks if someone sees him cry they'll label him as weak."

"Alright then, I'll leave you to it." said Doctor Combeferre. "But if you think he needs my help, don't be afraid to drag him over to me."

"I won't." Etienne smiled.

"Where is Julien, for that matter?" asked his father suddenly. Etienne looked round and his heart began to race.

"I…he was here when we came back." he gasped. "I'd better go and find him, Papa. He shouldn't be alone this evening."

Etienne hurried out of the room and almost ran into Yvette, one of the maids.

"Yvette, have you seen Julien?" he asked urgently.

"Oh, Master Etienne, I'm glad I found you." she gasped anxiously. "Master Julien is in the dining room! I think he's ill! Please will you go to him, he wouldn't let me call for his father."

"I'll go to him. But Yvette, do not pass on this information to anyone else, please." Etienne requested quietly, and he hurried away.

He ran into the dining room and found Julien slumped against the wall, his whole body shaking; his face hidden by his hands.

"Julien! What's the matter?" he demanded anxiously. "Are you ill?"

"I don't know why Grantaire does this!" said Julien in a slurred voice. "It doesn't make the pain go away!"

And with that, Julien simply collapsed into Etienne's arms, exceedingly drunk.