Chapter Text
When Grantaire and Courfeyrac get there, they’re immediately called back to where Enjolras is staying (the perks of knowing someone who works there). The moment Combeferre sees them, he’s scooping Courf up in a tight hug.
R meets his eyes over Courf’s shoulder and gives him a sympathetic grimace. “How are things?”
“They’re okay,” says Combeferre hoarsely.
Grantaire turns his gaze to the window into the room where Enjolras is. He’s lying in a bed, hooked up to an IV again, and R has a horrible feeling that he’s back here again on that first night they’d discovered Enjolras, waiting for Marius to call them with an update, only getting information thirdhand. He forces himself out of it. He’s here this time, and this is different. Enjolras still looks awful of course, but much better than he did the first time R saw him back. The bruises on his face are fading, and he looks like he’s eaten a vegetable recently. There’s even something about him that looks slightly more… relaxed maybe? Though Grantaire could be imagining that.
There’s also a man sitting next to him. R’s first thought is that it’s his dad and he feels a jolt of panic before he realizes this man looks nothing like Enjolras’s dad. He’s sitting next to Enjolras, talking to him, and his posture is almost… timid? No, not the right word at all. But there’s something about the way he holds himself, like he’s trying to make himself smaller.
“Who’s that guy?” he asks.
Combeferre grimaces. “That’s Javert.”
“Who?” asks R, at the same time that Courf exclaims, “The cop friend?”
“The cop friend,” says Ferre, looking mildly nauseated. Then, seeing the flabbergasted look R must be giving him, “Former cop friend.”
“Valjean’s friends with an ex-cop?” asks Grantaire. “Wasn’t he like, in jail for a long time.”
“He was.” Combeferre nods.
“This guy was like, one of the reasons he went to jail in the first place,” says Courf. “At least, I think? I don’t know, I got all this secondhand from Ferre, sorry, you tell it.”
“I honestly don’t know if that’s right or not,” says Ferre, “But he was his parole officer. And I think he worked where Valjean was imprisoned? It’s unclear, I was so confused when he was telling me I didn’t retain anything.”
“What the fuck,” says R. Though, to be fair, if anyone was going to befriend his former jailor, it would be Mr. Valjean.
“That’s what I said!” says Courf.
“That’s what I wanted to say to Mr. Valjean. Anyway, the point is this guy is like, trying to make up for his years of being a cop. Which- like- good luck.” R snorts at this, “But basically, a bit ago he offered to use the money from his pension to help pay for stuff for E? Like medical bills? And legal bills when we get that far?”
“Okay,” says R, faintly. This is thoroughly not where he thought this conversation was going to go.
“Yeah,” says Ferre. “Enjolras refused that offer really adamantly.”
“Ah.” R now sees the problem.
“I mean he’s not yelling?” says Courf, motioning at window to the little room. Inside Enjolras and the man- Javert- seem to be having a conversation.
“He just woke up,” says Combeferre, “give it time.”
“Was he asleep or did they knock him out?” asks R in alarm.
“Just asleep,” says Combeferre. Thank god. “I’m honestly not even totally sure we should have brought him here, I was just so worried about him. I came over and his fever was 105 degrees!”
“Jesus Christ,” says R. He doesn’t know enough about the human body to understand this, but judging by Combeferre’s tone, it sounds bad.
“I just sort of panicked,” says Ferre. “It’s not like he passed out or anything, but he wasn’t super lucid either. He kept dosing off, and it seemed like sometimes he’d forget where he was when he woke up. Or like, what was going on. It freaked me out.”
“Have the doctors said anything yet?” asks Courf.
“Not a lot. They did say he was dehydrated again, hence the IV, and he’s still underweight by a lot, but we already knew that. They did say we did the right thing bringing him in with a fever that high.”
R asks, “So why are you so conflicted?”
Combeferre sighs. “They want to keep him overnight, and I know he can’t afford that. That’s why I agreed with Mr. Valjean that he should call his friend.” There’s a pause and then he says defensively, “He needed care!”
R raises his hands in defense, “Hey I get it!”
“No one is mad at you,” soothes Courfeyrac.
“Enjolras will be,” says Ferre miserably.
“Maybe not,” says R, with completely false optimism.
“Enjolras thinks you’re like, the smartest person in the world,” says Courf, “He’ll get over it when you talk to him.”
Combeferre looks through the window to Enjolras and Javert. “I just hope he actually hears him out,” he says. “He says it’s against his moral code, but this guy actually sounds like he’s trying to be helpful. And I just- he needs the money. That money could really help him, he could go to the doctor more and he could maybe even have a chance of getting his savings back from his dad.”
“You think he’s going to take his dad to court?” asks R.
“I think he should. Whether or not it’s a-” Combeferre cuts himself off abruptly as the door to Enjolras’s room swings open and Javert exits. He has an unreadable expression that flickers briefly into surprise when he sees the three of them.
“Are you-” his eyes land on Combeferre, “Where is Mr. Valjean?” His voice is harsh and a little hoarse, like he isn’t used to talking this much.
“He and Cosette went to get us some coffee,” says Ferre warily. “They’ll come back in through the waiting room, you can meet them there.” It’s the politest way of saying leave us the fuck alone that R has ever heard.
Javert nods awkwardly, and gives him and Courf a onceover and nods again. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he doesn’t and he sweeps out of the room.
“What a weird fucking guy,” says Courf, and R and Ferre stifle laughs.
“Should we go in? So he’s not alone?” asks R, though he’s not sure if he actually wants to do that.
Combeferre hesitates, then shrugs. “Technically we shouldn’t, but fuck it. We’ve already broken some rules tonight, what’s a few more?”
“That’s the spirit,” says R.
~
Enjolras has barely a minute to himself before the door opens again and in come Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire of all people.
Once he’s slid his mask off again, he says drily, “I’m getting déjà vu.” Only Grantaire laughs, which does make Enjolras a little glad he’s there. That was funny goddammit.
“Where are Cosette and Valjean?”
“Getting us all coffee. How are you feeling?” asks Combeferre. He sits down in the chair Javert vacated.
“Bad?” says Enjolras, because honestly what kind of question is that? He’s in the ER.
Combeferre rolls his eyes, “Yeah no shit, thank you for that. Can you specify what kind of bad? Do you feel better than before?”
Enjolras thinks about it for a moment. “Better maybe? At least, I don’t want to throw up as much now. I’m really tired.”
“Yeah having pneumonia does that to you,” says Combeferre.
“Pneumonia?” asks R, and Enjolras once again wonders why he’s here.
“How?” he asks Combeferre, who miraculously understands what he’s asking.
“It’s actually fairly common after rib injuries,” Ferre explains. “Cracking your ribs can make breathing hurt a lot of the time, and pneumonia can develop if you’re breathing shallowly. It’s usually not a problem if you manage the pain correctly.” This last sentence is directed at Enjolras so passive aggressively that it’s basically just aggressive.
“I forgot!” says Enjolras. In his defense, he isn’t used to having regular access to medication. Plus, he doesn’t want to become dependent on it, in case he has to go without it again later.
“When we get you back home I’m going to put sticky note reminders everywhere,” says Combeferre in exasperation. Enjolras tenses at the word home, but forces himself to relax before anyone notices. It’s not their fault that he still thinks of his father’s house when he hears that word. It’s not their fault he has no home. He feels very cold and small all of the sudden. He just wants to sleep.
He's trying very hard to keep a brave face up, but something on his face must change, because Courf cuts in. “We’re not mad at you, just worried. I’m sorry you’re in pain.”
He shrugs, “It’s not that bad.” He turns his head away entirely unsubtly.
“Okay,” says Courf softly, and he immediately feels bad. “Is there anything you need? Water? Another blanket or something?”
Enjolras looks back at him hopefully. “Cosette said she and Mr. Valjean were going out to get everyone coffee, will they be back soon?”
“I’m not giving you coffee!” Combeferre sounds so done with his shit. “You’re in the ER! You need to rest!”
“You asked if there was anything I needed!”
“No, Courf asked that, and you know damn well he didn’t mean coffee.”
“You’re not a real doctor,” says Enjolras, only somewhat joking.
That makes R laugh again. “He’s got you there,” he says to Combeferre, who looks like he’s going to throttle both of them.
“Is there anything I can get you besides coffee?” Courf is making a valiant effort to keep the peace.
Enjolras tries to reply, but is cut off by an awful cough that hurts his ribs and makes breath catch. Everyone in the room is staring at him, waiting for a response. He just wants the,m to stop looking at him, so when he can finally speak again, all he says is, “No.”
“You sure?”
Normally, Enjolras hates getting asked if he’s sure; he’s not a child and he doesn’t need people to second guess his decisions, but just this once he hesitates. He knows it’s just because of the fever but he is really cold. “Do you think it would be okay for me to have another blanket?” he asks, and the vulnerability of admitting to needing anything makes him want to vanish off the face of the earth.
Courfeyrac though, beams as though Enjolras has just given him the solution to world peace. “Yeah! They definitely have enough.” He leaves without waiting for Combeferre to verify this.
Combeferre gives a small smile when Enjolras looks at him questioningly. “They do,” he assures. “It’s a hospital. I promise they have plenty of blankets.”
“Okay.”
“Are you still cold?” Ferre frowns and puts a hand on his forehead. Enjolras is so tired he forgets to pull away. “You’re still pretty warm. I’ll check in with the nurse next time they come around.”
“I’m fine,” says Enjolras, because the last thing he wants is for another nurse to get annoyed with Combeferre for acting like he, an intern, has any right to question them (it’s happened before, multiple times). Not that Combeferre doesn’t trust the staff here, but when one of his friends is a patient, he can’t help but worry over them. It’s in his nature to mother hen a little bit.
“I mean you’re not fine,” says R unhelpfully, motioning to the IV and oxygen mask etc.
“Yeah speaking of, keep this on,” says Combeferre, tapping the mask that currently sits on his chin.
“I can’t talk when I wear it,” Enjolras protests.
“You don’t need to talk, you need to sleep.”
“I was just asleep.”
“Oh my god, I’m not going to argue about this,” snaps Combeferre, “Put the fucking mask on.”
Enjolras immediately feels anxiety bubble up in his throat. Combeferre is getting tired of him, he’s already put up with so much shit. He’s going to leave. He’s not going to want Enjolras in his life.
“Ferre,” says R with a hint of warning. Enjolras can’t look either of them in the eye.
“Sorry,” sighs Combeferre. “Sorry, I’m sorry, E.” Enjolras keeps his gaze fixed on the far wall. “Hey,” says Ferre, “I’m not mad at you. I’m just worried. And tired.” Because of you says the voice in Enjolras’s head. “Hey,” he flinches at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, but it’s just Combeferre, gentle as anything. “I’m sorry. It’s okay, I’m not mad, I promise. I just want you to rest. I don’t want this to get any worse than it has. I already can’t believe I didn’t catch it before now.”
“That’s not your responsibility.”
Combeferre looks like he’s going to protest, but R interjects. “No, he’s right Ferre. You’re a student. And our friend. It’s not like you’re giving us physicals everyday. And it’s not your fault if we aren’t taking painkillers when we should be.” This last part he says looking directly into Enjolras’s eyes, in case he didn’t get the message. He scowls and averts his gaze, before the sound of the door opening comes, and they snap back up.
“Blankets acquired!” says Courf cheerfully. He tosses them gently and they land in a heap on Enjolras’s legs.
“Thanks,” says Enjolras, but a fit of coughing takes him over before he can make another snarky remark.
He feels someone, probably Combeferre, move his hand away from his face and replace the oxygen mask over his mouth. It doesn’t completely stop the coughing, but it is immediately easier to breathe. Which makes sense he guesses, since, y’know, oxygen.
When he can breath normally again, he clears his throat and tries to apologize. It sounds like gibberish because of the mask, but Courf squeezes his hand and says, “It’s okay,” so either it was somewhat intelligible or Courf just knows him too well.
“Please try and get some sleep,” says Combeferre. Enjolras holds tight to Courfeyrac’s hand.
“We’ll stay right here,” Courf squeezes his hand again. “Don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere.”
Sleeping in front of other people should seem terrifying, but right now it doesn’t. Maybe because he trusts them, maybe because he’s just so tired. Either way, Enjolras sleeps.
~
Valjean and Cosette enter arguing and Combeferre shushes them, perhaps too sharply. He gestures to Enjolras, sleeping, and Valjean winces and makes an apologetic face. Cosette looks less concerned about waking Enjolras and more about continuing the discussion. She starts to say something to Valjean but he holds up a hand, and turns to Combeferre.
“How is he?” he asks.
“Alright. He woke up for a bit while you guys were gone.”
“Yes,” says Valjean, “we ran into Javert on our way in.”
Cosette leans forward. “Did he seem lucid?”
“I would say so,” says Courf. R laughs, then tries to stifle it since there’s an adult present. (And yes he knows technically they’re all adults, but like, Valjean is a real adult with a house and shit. He’s just an overgrown kid with a car and the legal ability to drink.)
Valjean gives him a look out of the corner of his eye and R shuts up. “Javert said he was… unreceptive.”
“Yeah,” says Combeferre. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
“You agreed that I should call him,” says Valjean sounding mildly reproachful.
Combeferre takes a deep breath. “Sorry. You’re right. I know. I’m just worried about him.”
“We all are,” says Cosette and she reaches across Valjean to squeeze his hand. Combeferre smiles weakly at her. “Javert said he said he would consider it.” It’s not a question, but it sort of sounds like one the way she says it.
“I think it was mostly so he’d go away, but yeah, he did,” agrees Ferre.
“Yeah speaking of,” R interrupts, “what’s with that guy?”
“What do you mean?” asks Valjean, at the same time Cosette says “He’s always like that.” “Like what?” he asks his daughter.
Cosette shrugs. “Y’know. Weird. Socially awkward.”
“That’s unkind Cosette.”
“It’s just true!”
“To be fair,” says R, “Who am I to judge anyone for being weird and socially awkward?” Everyone except for Valjean chuckles.
There’s a silence and then Cosette says, “So, about the cat-”
“No,” says Valjean immediately.
Combeferre frowns. “What cat?”
“There’s a cat that lives on our street,” explains Cosette. E and I have been feeding it sometimes and it lets us pet it now.”
“Aw cute,” says Courf.
“We want to adopt it!” she adds excitedly.
“Awww!”
“We?” asks Valjean, “Does Enjolras know you’re looping him into this plan?”
“Well, no. But I know he’d agree! C’mon Dad, do it for him.” She only sounds like she’s half joking.
“Do not use your friend who’s in the hospital as leverage to get me to agree to a pet,” Valjean admonishes.
“I’m not!” she protests, although she definitely was.
“Does Enjolras even know you want to adopt the cat?”
“I do now,” comes a muffled voice, and everyone’s heads whip around to look at Enjolras, whose eyes are now open.
Valjean winces. “I’m sorry, did we wake you?”
“Yes,” says Enjolras and then tries to take the oxygen mask off again.
“Jesus Christ keep it on!” Combeferre reaches over him exasperatedly to keep him from removing it. “Sorry,” he adds to Valjean, not sounding very sorry at all.
“We should go,” says Courfeyrac, “We shouldn’t be keeping you up like this.”
“No!” says Enjolras a touch frantically. R can see him avert his eyes like he’s embarrassed to have been so earnest about something. “I’m not tired anyway.” A blatant lie. “You don’t have to leave.” It seems transparently obvious that he doesn’t want to be left alone here, but R doesn’t call him on it. He already looks uncomfortable enough as it is.
“I can stay if you guys need to talk outside,” offers R against his better judgement.
“Same,” says Courf, and R feels a rush of relief. “You guys don’t need me for medical and logistical stuff anyways.”
“I don’t need to sleep,” insists Enjolras (or at least, Grantaire thinks that’s what he said, it’s hard to tell with the mask), sounding like he very much needs to sleep.
“That’s a good idea.” Valjean nods at them and he, Cosette, and Combeferre take a few steps out into the hallway.
Enjolras says something else absolutely unintelligible under the mask. Courfeyrac nods sympathetically and holds his hand. Enjolras glares at him, so clearly whatever he said did not require a nod.
“Do you want me to like, put the TV on or something?” asks R into the silence. “Do you like any video essayists?” Enjolras gives him a dead-eyed stare. Courfeyrac meaningfully widens his eyes from beside Enjolras as if to say when the fuck would he have had time to watch video essays on the reg? “Cool,” R clears his throat, “Silence it is then.” And silence it is. R is contemplating making up an excuse to get out of here, when Ferre sticks his head back in the door.
“Courf? Could you come out here for a sec? Valjean actually has some questions you might be able to answer.”
“Sure!” says Courf. He squeezes Enjolras’s hand, and then gently sets it back on the bed. His eyes flicker between Enjolras and R, like he’s thinking of all the ways R could piss him off. Then, realizing R has noticed, he shoots him what is supposed to be an encouraging grin before leaving the room.
Enjolras stares at R, still somewhat out of it. He gives him a sad, little wave in return. Enjolras relaxes, letting his head flop back, and stares at the ceiling. He seems resigned to Grantaire’s company. Surely R can do better than resignation right? Sure, he and Enjolras don’t have a track record of- friendship exactly, but if he’s to be believed, there wasn't animosity there either. At least not on Enjolras’s side. The Grantaire of yore definitely had some animosity to work through, even if it was mainly rage at how hot he was.
“Hey,” he says, so he can’t back out of talking. Enjolras tilts his head up a bit and raises his eyebrows. “Um,” says Grantaire, frantically trying to think of something helpful or comforting to say, “Can I get you anything?” Courf just asked him that. Idiot. “Water? Or… something.” Enjolras reaches for the mask and R reaches out to stop him before he can think better of it. Enjolras grabs his hand and swings up into a sitting position, pinning his hand to the bed. His grip is surprisingly strong for someone in a hospital bed.
“Oh fuck,” he says, so loud that Grantaire can understand it under the mask. He lets go of R’s hand to clutch his ribs.
“Shit,” says R, “Shit shit! I’m sorry, are you okay? Stupid question, sorry, fuck are you-” he cuts himself off before he can ask are you okay again immediately after apologizing for it.
“I’m fine,” is what he’s pretty sure Enjolras says, followed by some noises he can’t comprehend.
“Sorry, I…” he motions to the mask over Enjolras’s face. This time, when Enjolras attempts to move it, he doesn’t stop him.
“I’m fine,” says Enjolras, wheezing slightly. “It’s just- my ribs. It hurts to move fast. They’ll be fine though.”
“Yeah okay,” says R, “I’m still sorry though, I shouldn’t have like- lunged at you like that.”
“You didn’t do anything. I overreacted.” Enjolras is looking down at the bed, his hair covering his eyes. R gets the feeling he’s more embarrassed than anything, to have reacted so visibly.
“Hey don’t worry dude, it makes sense,” says R. “You should really put the mask back on now though.” To his complete surprise, Enjolras does. Then, slowly, on his arms, he lowers himself back into a lying down position. R has to stop himself from lurching forward again to help.
Enjolras raises a shaking hand to swipe at what are probably tears of pain. R pretends not to notice. He casts around for anything to talk about, or even anything to do that doesn’t make him seem like an antisocial freak. His eyes land on his bag, which contains his copy of The Winter’s Tale by Shakespeare. It’s assigned reading for his Shakespeare elective (yes he’s a nerd, sue him) but it’s good enough that it doesn’t really feel like homework to read.
“Want me to read to you?” he asks, holding up the book. Enjolras eyes it warily. “It’s Shakespeare,” says R, like Enjolras can’t fucking read, “It’s good.” Enjolras stares at him like he has a lot of questions, but in the end, he seems to give up on going through the ordeal of removing the mask and talking, and says what R is pretty sure is “sure.”
“Okay!” says R. He tries not to sound too surprised. Already he’s trying to think through how he’s going to read this aloud, since it’s a play, and he’s, y’know, one guy. “Here, is this okay?” He sits cautiously on the bed next to Enjolras. “It’s a play,” he explains, “So this way you can look at the page if you’re confused. Since I’ll be doing all the characters.” He suddenly feels very self conscious about this plan, but Enjolras looks almost like he’s smiling, so he pushes on. “Is that okay?” Enjolras nods and slowly, painfully hauls himself up into a sitting position. “Oh, I didn’t mean for you to sit up! I sort of meant to put you to sleep. Not a great review of the play, I guess. I swear it’s good, just-” Enjolras peels the mask off again, and R resists the urge to roll his eyes at his insistence at taking it on and off.
“I want to be able to see,” says Enjolras. “I’m not going to sleep.”
“Okay,” says R. Any protests he might have are silenced by the realization of how close together they’re sitting. It’s by necessity, since the hospital bed is a twin, but still, R feels like their faces are awfully near each other. “Okay!” he says again, his voice a little higher pitched, “so yeah, then, settle in I guess.” He brings the book closer to his face and hopes that Enjolras is too out of it to notice how red he’s turning.
Enjolras hums in acknowledgement and he begins reading, immediately feeling more at ease when he’s saying someone else’s words. “Okay, ‘Act 1 Scene 1: Sicilia, an antechamber in Leontes’s Palace.’ He’s the king, by the way.”
He gets a bit carried away, like he always does when he’s reading stuff like this. He loves older texts. He loves reading them and feeling close to the people who wrote them. He likes knowing that they’re fundamentally the same. Humanity hasn’t really changed, and neither has the world. The people back in Shakespeare’s day were probably dealing with the same shit as him: procrastination, cute boys, paying rent on time etc. He’s so caught up in the world of Leontes and his bad decisions, that he actually jumps just a bit when Enjolras’s head hits his shoulder. It’s a miracle it doesn’t wake him immediately, but the meds he’s on must be good, because he stays asleep. R is torn between feeling relieved that he’s getting some rest, and freaking out because oh my god his head is on my shoulder! He takes a few calming breaths and keeps reading, loathe to wake him up. Courf and Cosette are going to be so absolutely insufferable about this when they come back.