Enjolras (franceb4pants) wrote in the_tardis_trap, @ 2015-01-15 21:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | combeferre : tobefree-, courfeyrac : joininthefight, enjolras : franceb4pants, grantaire : onemorelie |
Who: Enjolras and Grantaire (with some Combeferre and Courfeyrac)
What: Argument
When: Now
Where: Their room and some in the library
Rating: High
Status: Closed
Enjolras finished dressing for his trip to the library. He paused once he had finished putting on his shoes. “I have been thinking about where we should go first, and I think that I might have an idea.”
--
Grantaire looked up from where he was buttoning his fly. “Oh?” He grabbed one of his shoes, searching around for the other.
“Ned and Felix’s time? Combeferre and Courfeyrac are very eager to help there.”
--
“No, not then,” he said, twisting so that he was facing Grantaire’s direction.
“I was thinking 1871. The Paris Commune,” he said.
--
Grantaire dropped the shoe in his hand. He had read about that - about everywhere they could end up going. Yes, it was right up Enjolras’ street, but … so many had died. He felt the blood drain from his face.
“No.”
--
He furrowed his brow at Grantaire’s words, feeling a spike of anger rising up inside him. “What do you mean ‘no’?” he asked. “You said that we could go anywhere I wished. This is where I wish to go.”
--
Grantaire picked up his shoe again. “Within - within reason, Enjolras.” He bit his lip, gripping his shoe tightly. “Have you seen the casualty list? The account I read didn’t even have a definitive answer, only that it was in the thousands.”
--
“Yes, I have seen it. But… we can help to change that, Grantaire. It is worth trying, at the very least.”
--
Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Thousands, Enjolras. Perhaps tens of thousands. You think one more life at risk would tip the balance?” He was defensive, he knew, though he was trying to reign it in.
--
“It would be more than one more life. Courfeyrac and Combeferre would be coming too. And any other of our friends who show up here.”
--
Grantaire’s fingers were white around his shoe now. “Oh, so you’d throw their lives away too? Again.” He shook his head. “No, Enjolras. It’s too dangerous.”
--
Enjolras stood up and his eyes narrowed in anger at Grantaire. “Throw their lives away?” he asked, angrily. “They fought for what they believe in. They died with honor. Which is more than can be said for you,” he spat at Grantaire.
--
There was an apology on his lips from the moment he realised what he had said, but then Enjolras continued to speak and he flinched.
“As if that would have been a comfort. It wouldn’t make any of us less dead at the end of it, would it? And you would just … lead them to their deaths again? Without even the hope you had before, however misguided that was. People follow you, Enjolras. You inspire them, you lead them, but you don’t care where you lead them. They would walk into fire for you - and so would I, which you should know by now. But that doesn’t mean you have the right to lead us into the flames on a fucking whim.”
--
“There is hope. There is hope that we can change things. But of course, you have never believed that, so it’s hardly a surprise that you don’t believe it now. You really think that I blindly led them all to their deaths without a second thought? I knew the risks but I thought we could make a difference. Change is never easy. And had the people risen we could have succeeded. But it’s people like you, the cynics of the world, that made us fail. Those who think we cannot change anything so it’s not even worth trying.”
--
“I think you knew exactly what you were asking of them but that you didn’t … you didn’t give them a choice. You weren’t aware of them, following you as if you were the Piper from the children’s story. It isn’t just your life you are being reckless with.”
He gritted his teeth. “Had the people risen.” He scoffed. “Again, they didn’t dance to your tune, they didn’t rise and risk the little they have against the state - after the glorious success that was the July Revolution.” He waved his hand around, thinking with a sinking feeling how familiar this felt. But it wasn’t wine in his hand now, more’s the pity. “But of course, it was my fault. I am the agent of your downfall.”
--
His eyes narrowed even further and his clenched his fists so hard they turned white. “You see me as cold, ruthless and a failure,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Well, at least I stood for something. At least I tried. At least I stood up and fought for what I believed it. I wasn’t just a pitiful drunk.”
He took a ragged, uneven breath. “I won’t risk your life or theirs since I have no right, as you pointed out, but I can still go. Stay here. And I will go and fight for what I believe in.”
--
Grantaire was shaking. His jaw clenched and he stepped forward. “Go, then. But don’t expect me to watch you die again. Because you will, and it won’t accomplish anything. You will be dead, and nothing will have changed.” He shook his head, slightly manic.
--
He took Grantaire’s step forward as almost a challenge. As though he were trying to call Enjorlas’s bluff. But he wasn’t bluffing. “You never really believed in me,” he said. “For all that you say, it’s clear now that you didn’t.” He walked to the door and opened it, stepping out and shutting it with a bang. He saw Courfeyrac and Combeferre in the living area but he ignored both and walked past them to the door that led to the corridor. He stepped out and leaned against it for a moment, breathing still ragged before he walked with purpose toward the library.
--
Grantaire threw his shoe at the door as hard as he could, then let out a frustrated growl and covered his head with his hands. It felt as if the floor had fallen away from him, and his knees buckled.
Courfeyrac and Combeferre had listened to the raised voices with increased worry. This was how it used to be, but it hadn’t been this bad back home. There was so much more at stake now, and they were so … angry. They couldn’t hear everything clearly, of course, but it was bad. So bad. They hadn’t known whether or not to step in, and then Enjolras stormed past them. They had exchanged a look.
“I’ll - go after him,” Combeferre said. He flinched at the sound from the bedroom. “I think - would you -”
Courfeyrac nodded, getting to his feet. “I’ll go to Grantaire. Good luck.”
Combeferre nodded, leaving the room in search of Enjolras. Courfeyrac knocked carefully on the bedroom door. “Grantaire?”
There was no reply, so he pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside. “Grantaire?”
Grantaire was on the floor, in the corner of the room. He had his legs pulled up to his chest and he was shaking and sobbing. Courfeyrac approached him slowly, kneeling beside him and reaching out to touch his arm gently. He moved closer, not wanting to overwhelm Grantaire.
--
Enjolras had gone to the library and stepped inside. He walked over to his usual chair and in a fit of anger he flung all the books he had staked up to the ground. He bent over the table, hands balancing on it and he tried to get his breathing back to normal.
--
Combeferre headed for the library first, and was relieved to find Enjolras. He approached him slowly.
“Enjolras?” he asked carefully. “Are you well?”
--
“If you have come here to tell me what a failure I am and that I have no right to lead you to your death, then you can save your breath, Combeferre. I have already received that message this evening. It doesn’t need repeating,” he said, bitterly. Logically, he knew that Combeferre was not here for any reason like that but he was too angry to be logical right now.
--
Combeferre shook his head, walking closer.
“I came to see if you were well, that is all.”
--
He took a deep breath and slumped his shoulders slightly. “I told him that I wanted to go to the Paris commune. It did not go well.”
--
Combeferre took a seat, in the hopes that Enjolras would follow his lead and perhaps calm some more.
“It doesn’t seem to have.” He leaned forward. “I take it he didn’t like the idea?”
--
Enjolras took a few more deep breaths and then moved to sit in his usual chair. He ran his hands through his hair.
“No, he didn’t. There is rather a substantial casualty list but it doesn’t have to be like that. We cou- I.. I could help change that. He pointed out that I would be leading you and Courfeyrac to your deaths, again. And that I had no right to. So I told him I would go alone.”
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Combeferre tilted his head. “It is … dangerous. I believe in what they were fighting for as much as you, Enjolras, but… I’m not certain that is the best place for us to go. Or for you to go alone.”
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He glanced at Combeferre. “I will not ask you or Courfeyrac to follow me. You do not need to worry. I won’t lead you to your death again.”
--
Combeferre leaned forward. “Enjolras, we followed of our own free will. Please don’t feel responsible.”
“But … Enjolras, and I say this with the utmost respect for you and your beliefs… I think there are places we could go that we could make a much bigger contribution.”
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“Is there?” he asked. “He’s right. I accomplished nothing. And you all died…. because of me. I am a failure. I didn’t change anything.”
--
Combeferre shook his head. “Enjolras, you are not a failure. We fought alongside you because we thought the cause was worthy. We agreed that was the action that needed to be taken.”
“I don’t mean anything against our previous actions when I speak of where we might go next. To give your life for a cause is a great sacrfice, but it isn’t one we should take lightly. Sometimes we can do more for a cause by living for it, not dying for it.”
--
He considered what Combeferre said for a moment and he sighed. “I was…. so harsh to him. I said things I shouldn’t have said.”
--
Combeferre reached out to place a hand on his arm. “You were worked up. So was he, from what we heard.”
--
He moved to pull his wedding ring off and he looked at the inscription written inside, thumb running over the words inscribed there. “I…. I shouldn’t go to the commune, should I?” he asked, looking up at Combeferre. “That is what you’re saying.”
--
Combeferre nodded. “I’m saying I believe that would be a waste of your … your abilities and your potential. You move people, Enjolras.” He glanced at the ring. “Even he believes in you. You … people listen to you. You could inspire generations. I had hoped we had managed that back at home, but … it was not so.”
“From what I have read, the commune’s fate is sealed. We couldn’t change that outcome. But there are so many other places we could have a real difference.”
--
He glanced down at his ring again. “I… I hope that he still does.” The idea that he could have lost Grantaire terrified him, and he shook his head. “I’ve been foolish. So foolish. I can’t bear to think that I’ve lost him, and….. I was willing to take him to a place where he could have died. He was right about me. Everything that he said was right. But I don’t want to be like that anymore. I don’t want to be reckless with my life, or his, or yours. You are right. There are places we can make a real difference, that aren’t as dangerous.”
He paused for a moment. “Lets go to Felix’s time first,” he said, nodding his head. “I told you I wanted to grow old with him. I meant that.”
--
Combeferre smiled gently. “You care, Enjolras. You believe in what they tried to achieve and you wanted to help. It’s who you are.”
“And you have been wise enough to see that there is another way.” He patted his arm. “I don’t think you have lost him, either. It will be well. It can be fixed.”
--
He slid the wedding ring back on to his finger and looked at Combeferre. “I hope you are right. I do love him, so much. And I feel….. terrible for some of the things I said to him.”
He moved to stand up. “I should…. go to him. See if I still…. have a husband,” he said. “Thank you, for coming to find me, and talking some sense into me. You are truly a wonderful friend, Combeferre.”
--
Combeferre nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Combeferre stood up, stepping close and pulling Enjolras into a loose embrace. “Any time, my friend.”
--
He smiled slightly and hugged Combeferre back, patting his back for a moment. He stepped back after a few moments and took a breath. “Okay, I will see you later.”
He stepped out of the library and walked back to their room. He couldn’t help but worry. What if he had pushed Grantaire too far this time? What if this was the tipping point and he decided Enjolras just wasn’t worth all of this?
He walked back into the room and crossed over to the door to his and Grantaire’s bedroom, hoping that he was still in there, and he hadn’t driven Grantaire to the bar. He paused just outside the room and then knocked. “Grantaire… it’s me,” he said, hoping he was in there.
--
Grantaire was clutching Courfeyrac’s arm, clinging to him as he tried to stop shaking. Or sobbing. Just doing one would be an improvement. This was always going to happen. He’d known it was too good to be true, and he had found a way to ruin it. He should leave. He should get out of here before Enjolras came back, away from here. He should have this room, and he would find somewhere else. Somewhere… near the bar. He choked back another sob. Just like Enjolras said. He was a pitiful drunk. What had he been thinking for the past year?
He moved away from Courfeyrac, attempting to get to his feet. Courfeyrac tugged him back, wrapping his arms more firmly around him. “No, Grantaire, shh. Stay here, please.”
Grantaire shook his head frantically. “Can’t. I - can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” Courfeyrac stroked his hair, and that felt both so good and so awful all at once that Grantaire sobbed again, leaning against him.
He froze when he heard the knock at the door, and Enjolras’ voice. He squeezed his eyes shut. It was Courfeyrac who replied.
“We’re here, Enjolras,” he called out. He stroked Grantaire’s hair slowly, trying to stop him panicking.
--
Enjolras stepped inside and saw Grantaire shaking and sobbing. He felt… terrible for doing this to his husband. He rushed over and knelt down. “Oh, Grantaire,” he said. “I…. I am so sorry.”
--
Grantaire turned to face him, breathing unevenly. “I - do - should I go?” he asked.
Courfeyrac closed his eyes, pained even to be witnessing this. He lessened his grip on Grantaire just a little, rubbing his back, and then looked to Enjolras. He swallowed, nodding to Grantaire. “Take him?”
--
“No, please don’t,” Enjolras said. “Don’t ever go.”
He nodded his head at Courfeyrac and moved to take Grantaire, pulling him into his arms and holding him tightly. He ran his fingers through Grantaire’ hair and kissed the top of his head.
--
Grantaire wasn’t sure how it happened, but Enjolras was holding him. He shouldn’t lean into him, he should go before it got worse, but he had never been able to walk away from Enjolras. He still couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Enjolras.”
Courfeyrac slipped out from the wall, easing past them and towards the door, giving them some privacy. He hoped it would be all right.
--
“Sssh, my love, you don’t need to apologise. You were right. Everything that you said was right,” he said. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” He stroked Grantaire’s hair.
--
He shook his head, clinging to Enjolras. “I wasn’t. I shouldn’t have said all of that. You aren’t a failure, you’re not cold, you care so much about your friends. I just - I don’t know if I can watch you die now I’ve had hope that you might live.”
--
“I shouldn’t have given you hope like that, just to take it away. I’m not going to the commune. I am going to go to Felix’s time. With you, if you’ll still have me. If you haven’t given up on me.”
--
Grantaire shook his head. “I haven’t, I could never - I will never give up on you. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I shouldn’t have said - I’ll come anywhere with you, if you still want me.”
--
“Of course I still want you, Grantaire. One argument isn’t going to change the way I feel about you. And we went a whole year without arguing at all, I think that that is quite remarkable,” he said, smiling slightly, trying to lighten the mood just a little He kissed Grantaire’s forehead. “I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that. Nothing.”
--
Grantaire managed a slight laugh. “Are you - are you sure?” He moved his head so he could meet Enjolras’ eyes. “I don’t - I don’t want this to be something you feel obligated to… I mean, if you want to go, you can. I’ll - I know I didn’t handle it well just now, but I could, eventually.”
--
“I’m sure,’ he said. “I am completely sure. I didn’t…. think it through. Grantaire, I can’t bear to lose you. I don’t know what I would do. And I can’t be selfish and reckless with my life anymore. Not when I have so much to lose by being selfish and reckless with it. I want to grow old with you. I want that more than anything. I just…. need to remember that that means I have to live first.”
--
He gripped Enjolras’ shirt, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hold you back, Enjolras. You were made to shine, and… I don’t want to lose you either, but I don’t want to change who you are.”
--
“And I shine brightest when I am with you,” he said, smiling at Grantaire. “I can go places where I have less of a chance of dying, and perhaps I can still help create change. You aren’t holding me back. Don’t ever think that. I would never consider your love as any kind of restraint. And the ways you have changed me have all been for the better. Don’t ever doubt that.”
--
He swallowed, leaning close, his head starting to ache.
"Thank you. I love you. I'm so sorry."
--
"Ssh, it's okay my love. I hope you can forgive me for everything I said to you," he said, fingers stroking Grantaire's hair again. "You are my world. And I love you, and I will always love you. You don't need to worry that if we fight I will want you to leave."