It wasn't until later that night that Feuilly was addressed again. Musichetta eventually found him in the bunker's gym, where he was running almost at full pelt, each foot hitting the treadmill with almost painful 'thuds'. Only when the dancer had wandered into his eye line did he slow the machine down to a stop, taking a moment to take a few deep breaths before climbing off the machine.

"What's up..?" He asked, his normally rough voice softened by his quick breathing.

"It's pretty late to be in here, isn't it?" She said lightly, pulling her thick hair back into a bun as she nodded towards the clock on the wall. "It's better to stretch before bed rather than do anything cardio-heavy"

"Is that right? I'll have to bear that in mind for the future then." The chemist smiled in return, patting his face and neck with a small towel. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I just wanted to thank you, for earlier. I appreciated you backing me up."

"No need to thank me; I think he was the only one on a different page with that topic. I know Enjolras didn't agree with him – if I hadn't stepped up, he would have."

"Well, yeah – but it's nice to see someone else take charge now and again. I mean, I know I don't hang around you guys much, but he seems to like being the decision maker."

Frowning a little as he considered her point, eventually Feuilly shook his head gently.

"He's the one who makes the final call usually, yeah – but we let him, because he has good instinct. He's reliable, and he's fair. Hell, I couldn't do what he does – organizing protests and rallies and all that; I mean, he does have a tendency to talk about some things he doesn't have a lot of practical experience with, but regardless, I'm happy to follow him. He's a good guy. Kind of serious, but…he's a good one."

"You know him better than I do –sorry, what I said probably sounded-"

"It's cool, don't worry. I know what you were saying."

She left soon after that, her visit leaving the chemist in a better mood than before.

Meanwhile, wandering the halls on the other side of the bunker was the resident farmer. Like most of the others, he still hadn't adapted to sleeping in one room with so many people, and so preferred to wait until he was too tired to do anything but sleep before heading back to the dormitory. The artificial garden had a nice, relaxing feel to it, and so that was where he headed, thankful when he found the place deserted. In the centre of two small, circular stone benches was miniature fountain, the perfect finishing touch to this part of the bunker; filled with a soft, blue light, the walls had projections of an actual garden playing on them, only starting once motion detectors triggered them. The occasional sound of bird song or the wind in leaves played through hidden speakers, and strangely, it did wonders for alleviating the cabin fever. All you had to do was close your eyes, let your mind wander, and allow your imagination to take you back to a time before the apocalypse happened.

"Oh – sorry"

His eyes startling open, Grantaire leant up from his resting place against the wall to see Enjolras stood in the doorway, glad in his set of plain, grey pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt, with one bare foot on the step and one in the garden.

"I didn't think anyone else was awake"

"That's fine. You can come in, join me."

Accepting the invitation with a nod, he made his way in, goose bumps shooting across his skin in a rash as the artificial breeze swept through the space.

"Can't you sleep..?"

Hesitating before answering, he eventually shook his head.

"…No. I don't sleep well here."

"In the bunker..? Why?"

"Lots of reasons. I can only sleep if I have privacy, which I don't here."

"That's fair enough…" His sentence trailed as Grantaire looked to the survivalist, whose fingers were rubbing fatigue from his eyes and moving through his mop of blond curls, his elbows resting on his knees.

"What other reasons were there?"

The other sighed heavily as he sat up and looked at his companion, weighing whether or not he should tell him much else.

"…I suffer nightmares. Night terrors, whatever you want to call them. Normally I'm fine and they're rare, but what with the world being levelled by atomic warfare and me having to vote which of our friends die and which live…I suppose the stress is making them flare up again. I don't want to wake anyone else up with them, so I normally end up on the sofa. Or I just don't sleep for more than a few hours."

The revelation seemed to surprise Grantaire, which only made Enjolras feel more embarrassed.

"It's stupid, I know – I shouldn't have told you."

"No, it's not – I just never knew that. You don't really tell people much about yourself so…"

"Because there isn't much of a need to. What would you do with information about me?"

"You make it sound like I'd sell it to the CIA" Grantaire laughed, "I'd just remember it, I don't know…I'd like to know more, if you're willing to share."

After some consideration, finally Enjolras caved, holding his hands up briefly in surrender.

"Alright. Fine – but only if you tell me something about yourself as well. We can alternate."

"Like '20 questions'? Sounds good to me. Okay, let's see…do you have any siblings?"

"No. What about you?"

"Yeah, I have an older sister. Well, had, I guess, given the bombs?" Shaking his head, Grantaire shook off the sudden realization that none of them would have any family left to speak of now, instead trying to think of another question.

"Do you prefer tea or coffee?"

"Tea. Do you like how you look?"

"Going in the deep end there…" With a shrug, Grantaire chuckled a little awkwardly. "I don't know…maybe? I don't think I'm any special, no. What made you want to take philosophy?"

"I've always enjoyed taking classes that really make me think. Plus, Combeferre recommended it to me, told me I'd find 'sufficient time to argue in a healthy way'."

The light laugh that followed was shared by both boys, though it ended prematurely as they were both reminded of the gentle-hearted friend they'd lost this turn. Looking back up at Grantaire, Enjolras tried to think of another question to ask him.

"What's your favourite kind of music?"

"Alternative rock, or indie rock. But I don't mind other genres particularly." Leaning forward, Grantaire gave him a curious look. "But that's not what you want to ask me. And I don't want to ask you what you favourite colour is, either. I mean, its stuff we want to know, but it's not what we want to ask."

"What do you mean?"

"Treat each question like you're filling a slot for another bunker. You only have ten questions before you've hit your limit; do you really want to waste each slot by asking me stuff I'd write in an online profile?"

It was an interesting way of putting it, and it certainly made Enjolras think about what his next question should be. After some thought, the brunette broke the tranquil quiet with his next turn.

"If you had to lose one of your senses, what would it be?"

"I suppose…" he began, picking through his options with precision, narrowing them down until he singled one out. "My sense of smell."

"Interesting choice." He replied with half a smile. "Your turn."

"Alright…if you had to be stuck on an island – or maybe, in a bunker - for the rest of your life with only one other person, who would it be?"

Dark-circled eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his smirk wavered for a split second.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Enjolras."

"I don't think I do."

"Who do you think I'll say?"

He honestly had no idea. Perhaps it was a bad thing that he didn't know more about some of the members of their group, perhaps it didn't matter; but he could say in that moment that when it came to general knowledge about Grantaire, compared to Courfeyrac or Combeferre, he felt he was seriously lacking.

"I don't know, really."

"Honestly? I'd probab-"

His sentence was cut short by the sounds of raised voices, which quickly turned into yells, from elsewhere in the bunker. Glancing at one another, both students were on their feet in a second, hurrying towards the source of the noise. By now the others had been woken up and were spilling out of the dormitory, all equally confused and groggy from sleep as each other.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know - come on."

Making their way towards the front of the bunker, they were suddenly cut off by their teacher coming out of one of the side corridors, gracing them all with only a faint look of surprise – as if he hadn't expected the shouting to wake them – as he continued on his way. For a few seconds, the group just stood in place, confused as to what was happening.

It wasn't until Feuilly followed a moment later, haphazardly grabbing at someone's – anyone's – arm to make them follow him, his voice sharp but desperate.

"We need to stop him – Enjolras, we need to stop him."

"What's going on?"

"He's opening them – he's opening the doors."