Author's Note: Thank you all for being so patient. This arc is slowly drawing to a close—there's two chapters and possibly an epilogue left after this one. I'm very grateful to everyone who's stuck with the story! It's greatly appreciated.
Arc Two, Part Nine: Dissemination
"What did you see?"
The boy says nothing, again, sitting quiet and tense on Courfeyrac's bed next to Combeferre. Combeferre has his right hand on the boy's left shoulder, his fingers wrapped in the boy's shirt, holding tight, keeping him from bolting again. Courfeyrac has his desk chair dragged over in front of the bed and is straddling it backward, his chin resting on the back of the chair, staring at the child.
"We know you saw something." Combeferre's voice is quiet but certain. "If you hadn't, you wouldn't have tried to run."
"I tried to run 'cause you chased me." The boy's voice is sullen, but his scent is still scared, and his eyes dart continuously to the door, trying to find an escape.
"We're not angry. We just… need to know what you saw." Turning the chair around, Courfeyrac leans forward, reaching over to touch the child's knee gently. "Your name is Gavroche, right?"
The boy's eyes flick up, meet Courfeyrac's for a moment. "Yes."
Shoving the chair away, Courfeyrac kneels on the floor in front of the boy, looking up into his eyes. "I owe you my life, Gavroche. You know that, don't you?"
Hesitantly, the boy turns his head to face Courfeyrac squarely. The scent of fear fades from him, just slightly. "I helped get you out of there."
"You did. And as I owe you my life, I swear that no harm is going to come to you so long as I can prevent it." Courfeyrac flicks his eyes to Combeferre, tugging on their mate-bond.
"I swear it, as well." Combeferre's tone is quiet steel, and Courfeyrac can feel the truth of the oath resonate along their bond. "Returning Courfeyrac to us was a great service. It would be poor repayment of our debt if we were to hurt you."
The boy studies Combeferre intently for a minute, and then his eyes flick back to Courfeyrac. "All right. I saw something, I guess. I saw you kissin' his brains out."
Laughter erupts from Courfeyrac, laughter which isn't helped by Combeferre's face reddening. Covering his mouth with his hand, he stifles the sound and then clears his throat. "Believe me, Gavroche, that was hardly kissing his brains out. If I wished to do so, it would be a much more entertaining and lengthy show for you to watch."
"I suppose so." The boy shrugs, clearly unconcerned. "I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. You're hardly the only unnatural monstrosities runnin' around out there, and it isn't any business of mine."
"Ah, well, that is appreciated." Settling down on the floor, knees in front of him, Courfeyrac rests his head on his knees and continues to study the boy. It still surprises him, sometimes, the fact that humans can't tell from scent alone that he is female and Combeferre male, though they've spent the three years of their mating having to be cautious when and where and how they show physical affection. Silly, really, and something that wouldn't have been a concern to any wolves in the first place. Why should it matter if they were both male, or both female? Their pack would have children enough without them, pups they would help raise as all the pack did, and if they ever truly desired children of their own bodies they could always try taking a different mate for the fall.
Why should only male humans be allowed into university, into politics, into society? Why should he have to hide his gender as well as his mate to blend in with their sensibilities?
Sobering, Courfeyrac reevaluates the child's statement and offer, realizing exactly how much of a blow it could be to his human persona if his bond with Combeferre were to become common knowledge. Not that the word of a street-grimed child would be worth much next to his, but still…
Though he can play the part of human well enough, enjoys it, even, there are many things Courfeyrac would like to see change about their society—will see changed about their society, if he can.
At least the realization that Gavroche's word will have significantly less weight than his own takes a bit of the burden of fear from Courfeyrac's shoulders. Even if the boy saw more than he's letting on, he hasn't seen any of the pack Change, and any tales he spreads of other things likely won't be believed.
"Why did you save me, Gavroche?" Courfeyrac raises his head off his knees.
"Because he used me." The boy's answer is prompt, and a hint of rage touches his scent, drives off the last of the fear. "He tells me to deliver a note, I do. But it was a trap. He was torturin' your friend, and then he grabbed you when you went to help him. It's mean. It's not somethin' I want to be a part of, especially not without my knowin'. A bit of thieving, a bit of murder, even, you do what you have to in order to survive, but what Bellamy did… that was nasty. And I don't do nasty."
Combeferre doesn't relax his hold on the child, but a combination of pity, sorrow, and respect flow through his mind, coloring his mate-bond to Courfeyrac.
"Is Bellamy familiar with you?" Courfeyrac wiggles the fingers of his bandaged hand, earning a twinge of protest from his wrist.
Gavroche shrugs. "Much as he is any of the runners he uses."
Familiar doesn't really matter, Courfeyrac supposes. Bellamy will be scouring his prison trying to determine who the humans involved were, and Gavroche's scent will be far too obvious. "You should stay away from his territory for a while, until this whole mess is settled."
"I'm not an idiot." Gavroche scowls across at him. "I'm not goin' to go traipsing up to his door, not when he's got to be furious."
"Good." Courfeyrac chooses his next words carefully, trying to find a way to instill the right amount of fear into the boy without talking about scents and tracking and the safety that Enjolras' pack boundaries represent for him right now. "Though I would be hesitant to be caught anywhere near him, at the moment. He'll wonder where things went wrong, and that could involve asking the messenger who delivered his note who else might have seen him."
The boy pales, his little hands clenching into fists.
"Given the assistance you've shown us…" Combeferre speaks slowly, glancing up at Courfeyrac. "We could always offer a place to stay, yes?"
Nodding slowly, Courfeyrac considers the option. It would certainly keep the boy away from Bellamy, and hopefully from saying anything about any oddities he's seen. Having him in the pack den would be stressful for the pack—hell on earth, really, not having anywhere to Change freely—but perhaps they can get him set up in Marius' quarters or somewhere similar. "We'd probably ask for some work in return, Gavroche—running messages, mostly, though I promise there would be no nastiness involved. But if you'd be interested, I'm sure we could provide you with food and lodging for the immediate future, especially given what we owe you."
Gavroche crosses his arms over his chest, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. "I won't be a play-toy for either of you. I'm not interested in any of that… touching… stuff, and I'm willing to bite if I have to."
Lips pulling back in a grin that probably looks more canine than it should, Courfeyrac inclines his head. Humans and their rules about biting. So delightful and strange. "Your warning is noted. Though I must say no one who lives here would be interested in you, anyway."
"Yeah, well, you never know." Gavroche stares at Combeferre's hand, still latched onto his shoulder.
"It's an unfair fallacy to judge a man based on the gender of who he loves." Combeferre's voice is bland, his hand still unmoving. "Or even to assume that a kiss means romantic affection. A very dear friend of mine almost died—almost was tortured to death by an enemy. Would you not want to touch them in that situation?"
Gavroche squirms, his shoulders rising in an uncomfortable shrug, and his eyes slide back to Courfeyrac. "That's all you want, then? You'll give me a place to stay to keep away from Bellamy, and I just do some odd jobs?"
"Yes." Courfeyrac hesitates. Does he simply allow things to go as they are, or does he ask again if Gavroche saw anything he shouldn't have?
He's spared from the decision by Gavroche raising his eyes. "I might've seen somethin' else, too. Something I'd like to learn if I could."
"Oh?" Courfeyrac stills.
"You've got magic." The boy turns to look up at Combeferre, and fear once again fills his scent, though his eyes are clear and direct. "I saw you. You and the blond one fixed Courfeyrac's arm up even though it looked just about ready to come off. I… I want to be able to do that. Can you teach me that magic?"
Combeferre returns the boy's gaze, and Courfeyrac barely resists the urge to pull his mate into a fierce embrace right then and there. How does Combeferre manage to function when compassion is his default setting, when this ragged, unwanted child desperately wanting the ability to heal can strike his heart so hard?
"I… can't teach you that." Combeferre shakes his head, his fingers relaxing their hold on the child's shirt. "I would if I could. I can teach you other things about healing, as can Joly. I… might be able to explain how it was done, though I can't do so right now."
The boy's muscles tense, and Courfeyrac knows he's going to make a break for the door now that he's free. He can see Combeferre shift, just a miniscule movement.
And then Gavroche settles back down, a contemplative look on his face. "When'll you tell me?"
\Combeferre glances to Courfeyrac, and a sense of love and respect and the faintest hint of exasperation, Combeferre's mental shorthand for Enjolras, floods their mate-bond. Courfeyrac gives Combeferre a slight nod in return. "Once we've had a chance to talk with others who will be affected and get their approval."
The boy considers, then nods decisively. "Suppose that's fair. Wouldn't want anyone tellin' my secrets without asking me. So what do I do until then?"
Grinning, finding himself more and more fond of this strange human child, Courfeyrac stands slowly. "Would you content yourself with entertaining Marius and our other guests for a bit? I believe there's food and drink being offered to them."
Gavroche's eyes light up at the word food, and he grins as he jumps to his feet. "Love to. Though… do they know your secrets?"
"Marius does." Combeferre stands, as well. "The others know even less than you, now."
"Right. Got t' watch my tongue, then." With that the boy skitters out into the hall.
Courfeyrac follows him surreptitiously to the dining hall, ensuring the boy doesn't bolt for the door again immediately. Grabbing Musichetta's arm, he quietly asks the female wolf to keep an eye on the child before retreating back to his room.
Tackling Combeferre down onto the bed for another kiss only brings a slight twinge of pain to his hand, and is definitely worth it. "That went better than it could have."
"Don't speak until it's done." Nuzzling against Courfeyrac's neck, nipping lightly, Combeferre makes a low, contented rumble.
Resisting competing urges to either curl up against Combeferre and sleep or return Combeferre's signs of affection, Courfeyrac nods. "Enjolras, then, for the next round of decisions?"
"Yes." Combeferre sighs, squirming underneath Courfeyrac. "We need to be responsible."
"At least for a little bit longer." Grinning, giving Combeferre's neck one quick lick, Courfeyrac shifts to allow Combeferre to sit up, both of them sending a silent summons for their alpha along their pack-bonds.
XXX
"And you want to tell the child everything—show him everything." Enjolras considers his beta and gamma, sitting side by side on Courfeyrac's bed. Combeferre sits straight, his hands at his sides; Courfeyrac is sprawled along the edge of the bed, leaning against Combeferre's side.
"He already knows something's up with us." Courfeyrac shrugs. "It would just be giving him the truth instead of letting him speculate."
Combeferre's lips pull back from his teeth, a grimace of distaste, as though he doesn't like what he's going to say. "And he's of an age and social caste so that even if he decides to tell others, the likelihood of them believing him is slim to none."
So that they could kill him, if they needed to, make him disappear. It's something other alphas would consider, and it rises unbidden into Enjolras' thoughts, as well, a terrible worst-case scenario for protecting his pack. His feet carry him from one end of the room to the other, over and over without conscious volition, as Enjolras considers their words and comes to a decision. "We'd need to make sure the boy understands how risky the information he's asking for is… that he wants to know despite the risk. But if he does… all right."
"Just like that?" Courfeyrac looks mildly dismayed.
Enjolras smiles at his gamma. "You're the best of us at fitting in with humans. If you think the boy's one to tell… we'll tell him. Not yet, though."
"After the alpha conclave." Combeferre inclines his head in understanding. "So if the other alphas ask if any of the humans know what they're involved with, we can in good conscience say no."
"There will be no lie for them to scent. It… borders close on deception, but isn't quite there. And it's very true that we didn't involve any of the humans in this." Enjolras continues to pace, trying to force his sluggish thoughts to align. "I've been debating asking Marius about the humans, about how much they know, but I'm not sure I want the answers, not yet."
"We're playing a close game." Combeferre's tone is pensive. "Plausible deniability may help us save Grantaire's life."
Courfeyrac straightens, worry in his tone and expression. "I'm not sure I want Marius' questioning before the whole alpha conclave to be the first time we really know what's going on, though."
"Agreed." Scrubbing a hand over his face, Enjolras frowns. "Do you know anything about these humans, Courfeyrac?"
"Nothing. Though…" Courfeyrac hesitates, glancing at Combeferre out of the corner of his eye. "Hypothetically, Combeferre, could a wolf's magic work on a human?"
"A complete human?" Combeferre hesitates. "Not a human-born wolf or something else masquerading as human?"
"Not a wolf. Not a Wild One, though you never know who has a bit of their blood in them. She smells human, as far as I can tell." Shrugging helplessly, Courfeyrac turns his eyes to Enjolras. "But sometimes, like when they rescued us, it seemed there was… something else, between her and Marius. And I think, sometimes, I've smelled her on Marius, just a faint trace. I don't know. Anything I speculate on seems impossible."
"You were feverish and your nose looked more like food than something good for sniffing with." Combeferre's hand gently prods the still-slightly-bruised body part in question. "Do you think you imagined it?"
"Perhaps. I don't know." A wave of helpless frustration washes off Courfeyrac as the memory of how feeble and lost he felt swamps him, and Enjolras has to take a deep breath and draw his mind away from his pack-bond to his gamma.
"Enjolras." Combeferre is at his side before Enjolras even sees the male wolf move. "You need to rest. I told you to tell me if I pushed you too far."
"I'm fine. Just tired, and I will rest as soon as we've got this sorted." Rubbing at his forehead, Enjolras looks between his two wolves. "Courfeyrac, I'll need you at the conclave to present evidence. Combeferre, I think there's somewhere else I'd like you to be during the conclave—not just to keep you safe in case things come to blows, but because I suspect we're going to have to take some risks if we want to get Grantaire back in one piece. That's tomorrow, though. Right now… I think I'd like Courfeyrac to go talk with Geroux, tell him that some humans who assisted Courfeyrac's escape want to return home, which is on his land, and that they know nothing they shouldn't. Do you think the boy would act as messenger, since we need to be extra respectful of our boundaries at the moment? Good. Combeferre, I want you to talk with Marius and the girl, see if there's anything I should know for the meeting—keep anything I shouldn't know that you learn to yourself."
Combeferre tightens his hold on Enjolras' shoulder, but it's acceptance that Enjolras reads across their bond. "And you?"
Enjolras smiles. "I'm going to give the human male something to explain a few of our oddities that won't break any Pack laws."
"Isn't it great fun being a rebel in all worlds?" Courfeyrac's soft laughter is infectious, and his arms as he hugs Combeferre and Enjolras are warm and beautifully right.
XXX
"—and your friend Joly did a very nice job fixing Marius' leg up, which we are both very grateful for, aren't we, Marius?" Cosette squeezes her fingers tight around Marius', knowing that she's rambling but unable to quite stop herself as the man who had threatened them with a pistol not that long ago stares at her with an inscrutable expression.
"Very grateful. I owe you and yours twice over now, Combeferre, and I am very aware of that." Marius keeps his head bowed, his eyes low, studying his feet. "I am sorry that your p—people were dragged into this."
"I know you are." The apology puts a crack in Combeferre's calm façade, but Cosette isn't certain she likes what she sees beneath. There's so much hurt in the way Combeferre looks at Marius—betrayal and frustration—and so much uncertainty in the way he looks at her.
And she doesn't know how to make it better. Marius warned her repeatedly when he was feeding out bits of information on his wonderful, terrible, magical world that telling humans was considered dangerous, that she needed to keep her information to herself. But surely if they come to know her, if they come to understand what she is to Marius—to understand that Marius' magic is rubbing off on her, somehow, that she was able to track him by some intangible thread—surely then that terrible uncertainty and fear will fade away.
Marius' hand clenches tight around hers. "I will do everything in my power to repay my debt. If I have to offer myself to Bellamy in return for Grantaire, I'll do so. I know nothing I do can make up for what I've done, for my abuse of your hospitality."
"I would much sooner see no one in that rabid dog's clutches." Angling a chair so that it's facing both her and Marius, Combeferre settles down, leaning toward her. "We've no intention of returning Marius to Bellamy, rest easy on that score. I don't believe we've thanked you yet, mademoiselle, for your assistance in rescuing these two."
"It was nothing." Cosette finds her eyes dropping to her hands and raises them again with a frown, not understanding why she's reacting this way. There's a difference between playing demure and finding herself dropping her eyes unconsciously, and she's not sure she likes the latter very much. "I'm just glad we were able to save Marius and your friend. Marius has spoken very highly of all of you. You've been kind to him when others haven't been."
They've given him a safe place to stay, though there is something that Marius hasn't told her about packs and pack-boundaries and the conflicting, confusing laws that govern where and when a werewolf is supposed to travel. It's the only reason she can think of for what's happened to him, because she is certain that the men filling this house are wolves like Marius.
Well, not quite like Marius. Combeferre is far… sharper, she supposes is a fair word, his eyes missing nothing, his words always precise. Enjolras is the most beautiful man she has ever seen, all fluid grace and burning eyes and arresting voice. Bahorel is fascinating and fun, his eyes a brilliant green she's never seen anywhere else, his words quick and gruff, and she'd enjoyed hearing him tell stories of fights he's been in as he showed off scars to Marius and her father. Jehan is a lovely little man, his voice beautiful and always pitched to carry, his words often falling into cadences that are almost songs. Joly is a fantastic doctor, gentle when he could afford to be, strong and firm when that was necessary. Bossuet and Musichetta, the two men—wolves—who had helped hold Marius still while his leg was sutured, had been both funny and compassionate, bantering with each other and Joly and Marius and her, allowing her to hold Marius' hand when he whimpered.
So many wolves, all moving with grace and fluidity through the house, providing distraction after distraction for her father while their blond leader—alpha—flitted about, and this must be a pack.
This must be what Marius is missing and refusing to admit that he misses.
"Marius…" Combeferre looks between Marius and her, his question clear in his eyes but caught on his tongue, trying to find a way to frame it without giving away anything in case she doesn't know.
"Marius has told me what you are, you know." Licking her lips, her eyes dropping again as Combeferre stiffens, trying to ignore both the terror in Marius' grip and the way he huddles—submits—harder than ever, Cosette forces a smile. "I know he shouldn't have, but I did keep bothering him about you all, and I think it's wonderful. I don't know much about politics, but from what I've heard I feel I'd agree much more with you than with many others. Such scandalous but fantastic ideas that you have! To educate women, to empower women… Marius made some comment that your lot has even bandied about the idea of extending the vote to all, male or female. Is that true?"
She can see Combeferre relax more with each sentence that she says, a true smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It is certainly true for me and the others in this house. We all know too many impressive, intelligent, dominant, and compassionate females to take seriously anyone who says they've no right to knowledge or power."
Females, not women, but would it sound so strange to anyone who didn't know what they were, who hadn't heard Marius use that same curious distinction, females for wolves, women for humans, as though they were so very different? "Is it something related to your politics that resulted in this terrible ordeal?"
"Yes." Combeferre continues to smile at her, though there's a searching, uncertain puzzlement underlying his expression now. "Unfortunately. Marius has dallied at the edges of our politics for quite some time, and was swept up in what's become a much larger plot."
"But those men weren't police, were they?" Cosette bites at her lip, not having to feign her uncertainty or uneasiness. Do werewolves have police? Do they have jails? Surely if they do they wouldn't be like… like that had been, the scents of blood and pain so strong in that room that even she could smell it. What exactly has she stumbled into the center of? "Police wouldn't do something like that, right?"
"What people will do to each other in the name of their ideals is frightening." Any trace of levity vanishes from Combeferre's face. "But no, Bellamy and his people aren't sanctioned by the state—by any state. They are extremely conservative, and willing to go to great lengths if they believe it will protect the status quo. They have been searching for a way to get at us for some time, and they found a… loophole today. One that will be closed immediately."
Combeferre's eyes settle on Marius, and a soft almost-whine slips from Marius' mouth, his head tilting to the side, exposing his neck.
Tightening her fingers around Marius', Cosette forces her eyes to meet Combeferre's, focusing on the positive emotions in his eyes—the relief, the joy of reunion—so that the frustration and betrayal doesn't swamp her. "Will you be able to get your last friend back? And fix Courfeyrac?"
"Courfeyrac's injuries weren't as severe as they seemed. With a bit of sleep and a chaperone to ensure he doesn't overdo things, he'll be fine." A smile touches Combeferre's mouth again, there and then gone, but she's glad to have been able to summon it. "As for Grantaire… I believe we'll be able to get him back. I hope it."
"I do, too." Marius' voice is a quiet, guilt-ridden whisper. "And if there is anything I can do, I will do it."
"I believe you." Sighing, Combeferre rises to his feet. "We're currently ensuring everything will be safe for you and your father to return home, Cosette. If it is, we'll see you on your way. Marius, though, will be staying with us."
"No."
She and Marius speak in unison, a strong, certain denial, and she couldn't be clasping his hand any harder if she tried.
"I want her here." Marius glances up at Combeferre, his eyes pleading. "I want her with me."
"I want to stay with him." Cosette speaks quietly, trying to ignore the weight of her father's stare from where he's speaking with the blond man across the room. "He's hurt. He's in danger. I don't want to be separated from him."
"I know." Combeferre addresses his words to her, his tone kind and compassionate, though when his eyes shift to Marius there's a flicker of anger. "But right now, Marius needs to stay here. He needs to focus on helping us untangle this knot. And you need to be out of danger so that he can focus. Correct?"
Marius finally raises his head, his eyes scanning her features, catching her gaze with his, and Cosette lets out a small gasp as frustration and despair swamp her mind.
Not hers, though, not her frustration, not her certainty that if they are separated now they will never be brought back together, and how is Marius doing this? How has he done any of what he's done today—how has she felt his pain, his location, and now his fear?
Combeferre rears back as though he's been struck, his eyes widening, and turns to Marius in shock. The shock quickly gives way to excitement, and he settles back into his chair and leans forward, toward Marius, then apparently thinks better of that, turns to her, and abruptly closes his mouth again, swallowing whatever words he had been about to say.
Well. What did that mean?
Forcing a smile onto her face, Cosette studies the strange wolf. "Will you promise that you'll help Marius see me again?"
"Cosette, I would love nothing more than to sit down with you and Marius and have a very long discussion." The sudden hunger burning in Combeferre's eyes makes her believe him. "I will do everything I can to ensure that you are reunited as quickly as possible."
"All right, then." Cosette turns her smile on Marius, finding it much easier to maintain for him. "We'll do what we need to, but we'll be back together as fast as we can be."
Marius nods, slowly, his free hand reaching across to brush her cheek. "And though I will regret every day that we're apart, I will hold to the knowledge of our reunion, and that will give me strength even in the darkest times."
Cosette can feel her face heat as she blushes, but that is lost in the wave of caring and affection that flows from Marius to her, a wave that her own heart answers eagerly.
At least it isn't only darkness and pain that flows along this strange connection they have.
Combeferre studies them again, and there is that hunger still in his eyes, a desire to question, to ask, but he says no more, only acknowledging their declaration with a slight nod before leaving them to have a few minutes of almost-privacy, sequestered in their corner of the dining room while her father engages Enjolras on the other side of the table.
XXX
"These are treasonous." Valjean very carefully sets the stack of treatises and pamphlets that Enjolras had handed him down on the dining room table, his tone contemplative rather than condemning. "You could face serious penalties if you're connected with the production and distribution of them."
"Yes." Enjolras inclines his head slightly. "We think it's worth the risk, though."
"All of you?" Valjean's eyes slide over to Marius, currently talking with Cosette in quiet tones—likely too quiet for Valjean to hear, though Enjolras can pick out their declarations of loyalty and promises for reunion easily if he tries.
"Everyone in my group. Marius… has his own political views." Enjolras tries to find a way to translate Marius' beliefs into something this human will understand. "He also agrees that the current system is broken, though he differs from us in some of the specifics as to how to fix it."
"But this is why he was being held prisoner and tortured." Tapping a finger against the stack of documents, Valjean leans toward Enjolras.
"Politics, yes." It's not quite a lie, though close enough to make Enjolras uneasy. Not that this human could smell a lie, anyway. Enjolras keeps his discomfort from his voice and his body language. "Marius was used, quite honestly. He is close friends with Courfeyrac and Grantaire, and one of our enemies used him to lure them into a trap."
"I have seen prisons." The old man's voice falls to just above a whisper, his eyes darting to Cosette and then back to meet Enjolras' gaze evenly. "What was done to Marius and your men… there was a very personal hatred there. While the state may be fond of collars and leashes for those they deem dangerous, the collars aren't usually spiked, and the prisoner's wounds are usually cared for. Dead men do no work."
"Bellamy and his men don't work for the state. They are a splinter faction, a group of extremist individuals." True enough, though Bellamy was a state by Pack definition, alpha and lord of his land and his pack. The idea of all the separate packs in a city working together, alphas agreeing to certain modes of behavior and discussing things other than outright violations of Pack law, is really only as old as Enjolras' own pack. "They will be dealt with. They won't be a danger to you."
"Will they continue to be a danger to you?" Valjean's tone becomes colder. "Or when you say dealt with, do you mean in a more permanent fashion?"
"I won't kill them in cold blood. If we'd wanted to do that, we would have done so already." Raising his chin, Enjolras eyes the old human coldly. What right does this man have to pass judgment on his possible actions, having seen what Bellamy did to his people?
The right of the neighbor, trying to understand the strife rocking his world.
The right of the ignorant, searching for meaning and understanding.
The right of the kind, and how often has Combeferre cringed at how easily their kind shed blood, how often has Courfeyrac bemoaned that even though they call the humans blood-thirsty for slaughtering wolves the wolves themselves are little better?
How often has Feuilly shied away from bloodlust when it isn't targeted toward prey?
"I've no desire to kill." The words are heavy on Enjolras' tongue. "I do only what I feel is necessary."
"Why?" Valjean studies him frankly, with open puzzlement, his eyes meeting Enjolras' evenly again and again, in a gesture of equality that few wolves or humans ever dare to. "If you've no desire to see bloodshed, why involve yourselves in… these."
Enjolras' eyes follow Valjean's hand to the neat little stack of papers, and he can feel a faint smile tug at his lips. "Because it's necessary. Because to do nothing is to allow the bloodshed and tyranny that already occurs to continue, unchecked, unchallenged."
"You're young. You're well-off, with a house like this, nice clothes for all of you, food easily at hand, candles to burn." Valjean gestures toward the door to the dining room, where the rest of the pack had disappeared. "Surely things aren't that bad for you. Why risk all that this entails?"
"Because we aren't truly free or safe. Our words are censored. Our actions are corralled. To speak, to write, to learn, even, can be seen as criminal. We are better off than some, but we are still affected by the injustices of our time, and I would see them righted." He would see his wolves free, truly free, able to be themselves at all times, not bound by Pack law to hide themselves, not bound by human law to restrict their thoughts and actions. He would be free to be all that he is—wolf, human, alpha, female, ally to humanity—without one side or the other wanting to punish him for it. "So long as any people are considered less than others, so long as the law protects some and punishes others based on nothing more than the happenstances of birth, there can be no true freedom for anyone."
"You are a man of strong convictions." A strange mixture of respect and sorrow tints Valjean's voice as his hand strokes lightly over the documents.
Enjolras inclines his head, waiting for the old human to continue.
Valjean's eyes track once more to Marius and Cosette. "Are you certain Cosette will be safe?"
"I will not send you home if I don't think you'll be safe." He wouldn't desire to, anyway, but there is a pulsing along all their pack-bonds, a knowledge of debt owed, that would make it difficult for him to do even if he wanted to.
"She will want to see Marius again." Valjean's expression sours as he studies the young male. "And I assume Marius will want to see her."
"Likely." Definitely, given how often he's promised in the last five minutes that he and Cosette will meet and speak again, but Enjolras doesn't give away any of what he's overheard. "But I do not think he would allow any harm to come to her."
"There are things you aren't telling me." Valjean's hand stills on the papers. "Things about yourself as well as about your enemies."
"I… have told you all that I can."
"And given what you've shared so easily, the remaining secrets must be doubly troubling." Pressing his lips tightly together, Valjean leans forward in his chair. "What would it take to earn these other secrets of yours?"
"Time." Enjolras touches his pack-bonds, finding himself tensing at the difficulty that distance gives to reaching Courfeyrac. Sending him to speak to Geroux was necessary but difficult. It is just distance, though, and Courfeyrac is alert and cheerful when he touches his side of the pack-bond in return. "When I know you better, when I've had a chance to discuss it with others… I think you will be one of the first to know all our secrets."
"I want Marius kept away from Cosette until I know exactly what's going on." The words are delivered as an ultimatum.
Enjolras resists the urge to sigh. Must even humans assume he has control over the strange stray? "Marius isn't mine to command. Given your assistance, though, I suspect he'll try to heed your wishes."
"Not over hers, I don't think." Settling back with a sigh, the human crosses his arms over his chest. "When will it be safe for us to leave? It's getting quite late."
"Soon, I hope." Enjolras prods once more at his bond with Courfeyrac, but his gamma is otherwise engaged. "If you'd wish, of course, you're welcome to stay here…"
"I would prefer to go home." Valjean smiles, an expression that makes him look younger. "And as hospitable as your friends have been, I suspect you'd all be more comfortable if we went home, as well. Though… there is the matter of the child."
"The child?" Enjolras finds himself looking for Gavroche, though the boy had left with Courfeyrac, no longer lurking in hidden corners and alcoves with a frightening efficiency.
"Is he one of yours?"
"No." Shaking his head, Enjolras finds himself smiling. "He was working with Bellamy and decided he didn't like what Bellamy was doing."
"Ah." Valjean nods, going silent, his expression pensive.
"He… is in need of a place to stay." Enjolras speaks cautiously, feeling out the human male. "He could stay here, but there would be more danger here than I think there would be with, say, Cosette and yourself."
Valjean hesitates before sighing. "Give me time to consider it."
Murmuring a quiet acquiescence, Enjolras settles down in companionable silence with the human, the faint buzz of Marius and Cosette reaffirming that they'll be reunited for what has to be the two hundred and thirtieth time a comforting susurrus in the background.
XXX
Courfeyrac smells the alpha before he sees him, and grins down the supposedly-empty street. He doesn't smell the boy, which makes him hope that Gavroche listened to him and actually headed back to their den after delivering his message to Geroux, rather than attempting to eavesdrop on this conversation. "Geroux! It's been quite a while since we talked. I'm glad you could come."
There's the briefest pause, and then Geroux steps out into the flickering streetlight, a half-block down the street. The female alpha walks briskly toward Courfeyrac, who has planted himself at the border between Enjolras' territory and Geroux's, and comes to a halt in front of him.
"Courfeyrac." The alpha keeps himself tall, upright, but the effect of intimidation and control is somewhat ruined by the fact that Courfeyrac is just about the same size and honestly more dominant than Geroux—and that's before Courfeyrac factors in the relief in Geroux's voice.
Smiling more genuinely, Courfeyrac inclines his head. "Alive and in the flesh."
"I'd heard there was… trouble, between your pack and Bellamy's." Geroux pauses, but Courfeyrac just waits patiently. "I heard you were… detained."
"Oh, I was." Pulling his collar down to show his still-awful-looking neck, holding up his bandaged wrist, Courfeyrac allows his smile to fade. "It was an unpleasant experience. You'll hear all about it tomorrow, when we petition the conclave to order Bellamy to return Grantaire, as well."
"Then he didn't escape." Geroux's body, which had started to relax, tenses again. A note of barely-disguised disdain enters his voice. "You… left him behind?"
"He covered my escape against my wishes, and I was too badly injured to stop him." A low, thrumming growl underlies his words, but Courfeyrac doesn't try to suppress it. "What you see of my injuries is after Enjolras expended a great deal of power attempting to heal me."
Geroux nods slowly, horror flashing behind his eyes. "And why did you summon me here now?"
"Because of the nature of my escape." Dropping his eyes to the ground again, Courfeyrac takes on a more submissive stance. "Two humans—the two humans that Marius was visiting in your territory, without our knowledge—tracked Marius to where we were being kept. They freed us all—attempted to save Grantaire, as well, but we weren't fast enough in our escape. Now they'd like to return home, and Enjolras wanted to tell you about them and ensure their safety."
Horror morphs into terror in Geroux's eyes, the scent of fear sharp and acrid between them. "Do they know?"
"We've told them nothing, and Marius swears they know nothing that they shouldn't." Keeping his tone soothing, Courfeyrac tries to keep the pity from his voice. Such opposite ends of the spectrum, Bellamy and Geroux, but so similar, in some ways. He knows why they fear humanity so much—he's grown up with the same stories of murder, torture, condemnation, the almost-erasure of their species—but he can't bring himself to share their fear, and he certainly can't bring himself to mask terror with hatred as Bellamy and his pack do. "Enjolras is simply trying to be respectful."
"The humans… are welcome to come and go, as all humans do." Geroux's teeth show in a flash. "Marius, however, is not."
"Understood. Enjolras expected as much, and wanted to say that once the conclave is done and the larger issues sorted he wishes to talk with you and Marius about what Marius has done and what recompense can be given." Glancing up at Geroux's face, Courfeyrac tilts his head. "The main issue Enjolras was concerned about, other than your people scenting our pack on the humans, was if you would give Bellamy's wolves leave to enter your territory."
Geroux hesitates, his arms rising and crossing in front of his chest. "Why did you trespass, Courfeyrac?"
"Because I thought a life was in danger, and that trespass in such a situation would be forgiven—should be forgiven." And you would have let me die because of it, without ever knowing the full truth, Courfeyrac thinks but doesn't say. Perhaps he shouldn't take it personally that Geroux hadn't assisted Enjolras in trying to save him—learning that Marius had trespassed repeatedly had undoubtedly been a harsh blow, especially since another alpha had been the one to notice. But Courfeyrac likes Geroux, and thought Geroux liked him, too. Trying to hide his disappointment and anger, Courfeyrac pauses, deciding how much to say now. "Bellamy was torturing Marius in order to lure me onto his territory. I didn't know it at the time, of course—just that Marius was hurt, and I assumed there was a danger of his Changing due to his being hurt. We'll explain in more detail at the conclave."
Geroux's breath hisses out, a sound that Courfeyrac suspects is meant to be a growl but which sounds more like a horrified whimper edging between his teeth. "You swear what you say is truth?"
"By the Lady and the Night, may he steal my breath now if I bear false witness." Courfeyrac's anger fades as he watches Geroux's face, but he doesn't let it go entirely. "Not that Bellamy would have told you all any of that, of course. I would just have been a trespasser that he put to death."
"Yes. It would have been his right. There's no precedent… an alpha doing something like that…" Geroux's words come to a slow halt, and the alpha lowers his head. "I am sorry, Courfeyrac. And I am glad that you escaped."
"I did. Grantaire hasn't." The words are flat, containing none of the anger, none of the horror that rise in Courfeyrac at the thought of what Grantaire's going through.
"To interfere in another alpha's running of their territory…" Geroux raises his head again, eyes drawn together in troubled thought. "Where does it stop, Courfeyrac? If we start trying to control each other—I'm not as strong as some of the other alphas in Paris. What if they decide that they don't like the way I'm running my territory? I can do as I will, and so long as my pack is strong enough no other alpha will dare interfere. But if we do this…"
"If we don't do this, if we don't hold each other accountable, innocent wolves die. I would have died—Grantaire will die. And for what? For fear. For anger." Courfeyrac's hands itch to reach across the boundary line, to touch Geroux, to find through physical contact a way to make the other female understand. He has no right to do so, though, no right or place to cross the boundary Geroux has marked, and with Geroux already nervous it would almost certainly be misinterpreted. "We can be better than what we are, Geroux. The alpha conclave and self-regulation are the way to start. We can sketch in more rules, better rules, so that strays aren't tormented and chased. We can keep in-fighting between wolves and packs to a minimum. Who do you think is more likely to respect your rights as an alpha, Enjolras or Bellamy?"
"Enjolras won't be around forever. That's the problem, Courfeyrac—if we institute all these changes, who's going to keep them running? When we don't have an alpha like him, but we have power over each other…" Geroux shakes his head.
"A good alpha will always have the support of their pack, and never be an easy target." Courfeyrac's anger fades away, leaving tiredness in its place. "Your wolves would never allow you to fall easily. And even without Enjolras, there's you and Armand and Paquet as a coalition prone to… contemplating extenuating circumstances."
"And Badeau and Bellamy and Cavey who would happily see all other alphas driven off, who believe wholeheartedly in the rightness of their rule." Geroux's eyes fall away. "In a straight fight, Bellamy and Badeau could both take me."
"Knowing how you treat your wolves… having seen how happy they are…" Courfeyrac waits until he can catch Geroux's eye, and smiles. "I think it would be a much closer battle than you suspect."
"Perhaps." Geroux sighs, rubbing at his temple. "Send the humans. Some of my wolves will shadow them from the border, and I'll keep a guard on them in case Bellamy really is stupid enough to send someone after them. As for what you've said… I'll think on it."
"That's all I ask." Bowing low, Courfeyrac turns.
A hand on his shoulder stops him, Geroux's fingers gentle, not holding him tight. "Enjoy your time home with your pack, Courfeyrac. You and they both deserve it."
"I shall." Oh, but he shall, his pack-bonds drawing him home with promises of warmth and companionship, though one bond is still terribly silent. "Thank you."
Before Courfeyrac can say or do more Geroux spins and walks away, leaving him alone at the border.
XXX
Cosette is gone.
It shouldn't bother him as much as it does. He's used to spending nights without her, though frequently the time they steal together is very late at night or very early in the morning.
That won't be happening again in the foreseeable future, though. Assuming he survives the alpha conclave without being turned back over to Bellamy or his grandfather, he owes Enjolras both an explanation and an apology for his trespassing.
How is he to promise not to do it again when every fiber of his being screams to be with her, though, to be at her side, and he cannot explain why to any wolf without risking her life?
Enjolras' pack is settling down for the night, gathered together in front of the fireplace, the scent of old woodsmoke intermingling with their unique pack-sent to create an aroma that makes Marius' heart ache with both joy and sorrow.
Pack.
Everything about these people screams pack, screams of connection and affection, and he can feel their magic sliding over his skin but it doesn't actually touch him. It doesn't actually enter him, mix with his, because he told these people he didn't want to be one of them.
Because he can't be one of them, not and have Cosette.
Perhaps part of his morose sorrow is simply pain, his leg aching more since Cosette left. If he simply crawls off to the guest bedroom that Enjolras lent him, forces himself to sleep, things may look better in the morning.
He doesn't want to leave them, though. There's too much joy leeching off of them, release now that the humans are gone from their territory and they can Change and growl and prowl without fear of reprise, a deep-seated sense of relief at having their gamma present. All the wolves take time to touch Courfeyrac, reaffirming their bonds once more.
But there is sorrow, still, tainting all of their scents, the acute knowledge of who they are missing.
Drawing a deep breath, Marius turns away from Enjolras' pack.
Sleep. He will sleep, and he will do what is necessary to save Grantaire, and then… and then he will do whatever is needed to see Cosette again.
A hand on his shoulder stops him from heading up the stairs, and he turns to find Courfeyrac smiling at him. "Marius. Did you want to join us, my friend?"
Friend. Not pack, not stray, but something in between, such a human word, such a human concept, and yet it slides so easily off of Courfeyrac's tongue.
"I…" Maruis tries to find words, but his throat seems dry, and his eyes won't meet Courfeyrac's, acknowledging both that Courfeyrac would be more dominant than him and Marius' uncertainty. "I don't… think it's my place."
Courfeyrac's fingers very gently reach out and stroke Marius' neck, running over the still-burning silver injuries. "You and I are the only ones here with these. You are not pack because you don't wish to be pack, and we'll discuss those reasons again later now that I feel I've a better understanding of all of them. But you are my friend, and we have been through a great deal together. If you would like to stay with me, I would happily have you at my side."
"Combeferre?" Marius glances toward the center of the pack, where Courfeyrac's spot is, and his voice drops. "Enjolras?"
"They understand." Courfeyrac's hand grips Marius' tightly for a moment. "Don't feel obligated to. But if you'd like, if you'd like the company, you are welcome to stay with the pack, in furred or human form, whatever you prefer."
"If I Change, Joly might have to sew me up again." Marius shudders at the thought. There's also a chance that Changing will speed his healing, but given the whiffs of silver he still occasionally catches coming from himself Marius doesn't want to chance it.
Courfeyrac gives a commiserating smile. "Combeferre said if I Change and break his bandage before he's ready he'll let me walk around like that until I learn my lesson."
Marius' eyes widen and he glances toward Courfeyrac's mate.
Courfeyrac laughs, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "It's a joke, Marius. He doesn't mean it. I think."
"Ah." Biting at his lip, acutely aware of Courfeyrac's hand on his shoulder, Marius tries to think. "You… really won't mind my being there?"
"No." Courfeyrac's eyes are dreamy as he glances back toward his waiting pack. "We're not quite as boisterous as we'd normally be, given… everything, but we'd be quite happy to have you."
"I think I'd like to stay with you." The words come out in an awkward rush. "At least for the night."
"What remains of it." Courfeyrac yawns, tugging on Marius' hand. "Come on."
Enjolras is barely conscious as Courfeyrac beds down by him and Combeferre, and Marius tries hard not to stare at the alpha, wondering at how such immense energy and drive can become so still and calm. Combeferre murmurs a greeting and enquires after his leg, and Marius thinks he manages a half-intelligible reply.
The other wolves fill in around them, Jehan, Feuilly, Monet, and Bahorel wolf-form, the others human-form and in various states of undress.
Nestled amongst them, not one of them but not rejected, either, Marius allows himself to hope that the future might turn out all right, after all.
