after the infirmary

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius is attempting to resist the overwhelming impulse to cling to Cosette's skirts like a little boy in this strange place. But he's not a little boy, Cosette has her father to think of-- and apparently, they are not the only people here that he knows.

So Marius is exploring. Though he hasn't gotten very far, because he makes his way down each corridor very slowly, as if afraid the ground will give way beneath his feet at any moment; rounds each corner with as much caution as if he expects some monstrosity to appear at every turn.

Comments

[le_centre]

And a monstrosity appears!

...that is, Jean-Francois Courfeyrac, dressed in Diesel jeans, black hi-tops and a deep blue shirt (untucked!), with wires running up to things lodged in his ears. And he is singing - though to be fair to anyone listening, he is rather good.

He stops at the sight of a face he had almost given up hope of ever seeing again.

'MARIUS.'

Wait, he is shouting. He has been told about that. He yanks the things out of his ears as he runs towards the man, all curls and grin, and skids to a halt in front of him.

He has been warned not to overwhelm the man, and so does not fling himself on him. Very hard. There is certainly an embrace.

'It is very good to see you! You have taken your time, I must say, but that is entirely in keeping with you, monsieur. How are you? Come along, you must tell me everything. I have a room; you will join me for a drink? Or we could go downstairs if you would prefer to be nearer your lovely bride?'

[heartbeneathastone]

This is all a little more than Marius knows what to do with all at once. Entirely overwhelmed, he finds himself, from within the embrace, pinching the bottom of Courfeyrac's shirt between his fingers. What is it made of?

"Oh-- yes--" he says faintly, in answer to-- everything, really, he didn't quite catch that he was being presented with multiple options.

And at last he says, utterly dazed, looking up to meet Courfeyrac's eyes, "You-- you're really here."

[le_centre]

Courfeyrac smiles at him, quieter now, all warmth and happiness to see him.

'I am. And so are you, my dear friend. Come along, we will get you settled.'

He takes Marius's arm to avoid the man getting lost on this straight corridor with no obstacles, and rounds the corner with him.

'I do apologise for the entirely bourgeois appearance of my current lodgings, but it was the least hideous I could find. I fully intend to move as soon as Bar presents me with a room that is not orange. They clash horribly with Bahorel's waistcoats. This one manages to frame him admirably. Here we are.'

He pulls a key from his pocket, and stands aside to let him in first.

'Not quite what we were used to, but I'm sure we'll manage. Brandy?'

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius lets himself be steered, though he clasps Courfeyrac's arm perhaps a bit more tightly than is strictly necessary, to be completely assured of its solidity, its warmth.

--oh, he was asked a question, wasn't he. "Brandy-- oh-- yes, thank you--"

Give him a moment, he'll be up to actual sentences soon. Well, hopefully.

[le_centre]

He puts his hand over Marius's and gives it a squeeze, before letting his arm down and moving towards the alcohol. There is an entire sideboard dedicated to different bottles, but he keeps it simple today. Neat brandy of decent quality, in glasses of their own era.

'Here.'

He hands it off, untangles his earbuds and drops them on the checkerboard.

'Now, citizen. Ask questions if you like, or sit in silence, or let us talk of law, or friends, or Paris, or whatever you desire. Come and sit. It will do your health good.'

[heartbeneathastone]

"Yes. Thank you." But he doesn't sit. He looks at the brandy, carefully sets him down-- then, before his natural bashfulness can stop him, lurches towards Courfeyrac to return the embrace as he could not before. He knots his fists in the strange fabric of his rather indecent shirt and holds on for a moment, the feeling of Courfeyrac here and (apparently) alive.

[le_centre]

'Oh, Marius.'

He clasps him tight, an arm around him and one hand in his hair. He lets it be for a while, and then murmurs,

'What has life done to you, my friend?'

[heartbeneathastone]

"Nothing, nothing at all," he mumbles into Courfeyrac's shirt. "I have done it all to myself."

But when he pulls away to speak more distinctly, he says instead, "Pardon me. It has been-- a strange day. I am very well. I am married, you know."

[le_centre]

'I know. And she is charming.'

He smiles, no pardon necessary.

'Well, then. What have you done to yourself?'

Courfeyrac has read the book, but is obviously not about to say that. Besides, he would far rather hear the version owned by the man himself; he does not trust Hugo as far as any of them could throw him. But if the written version is similar to the truth, then he will give an honest opinion on it. Gentle, but honest.

[heartbeneathastone]

"She is charming," he agrees, almost reflexively. "And I-- why, it may be I have lost her. And I deserve it, if I have."

It's strange to talk about Cosette to-- well, to anyone. It feels like telling secrets, to speak of his marriage out loud, and in that he feels more than a little embarrassed. And yet, even saying so little is oddly comforting as well.

[le_centre]

Wait. That was not in the book.

'Lost her? Surely not. I know of no one more devoted than you, and it seems she feels the same from what little acquaintance I have of her. No Marius, that cannot be and you would not deserve it if it is.'

[heartbeneathastone]

"It is, I would, I do! I am a fool, and I--" He seems to remember himself, or at least the way he imagines he ought to be, and stops. "Pardon me. I will not burden you with tales of my mistakes."

[le_centre]

Courfeyrac just looks confused at this, and shakes his head.

'Whyever not? Yes, very well, it is not your usual behaviour. But this is not a usual place, and you are troubled and I am your friend. What better conditions could you want for speaking? You have all my ears.'

Even more so now he's switched Beyonce off.

'But it is your choice, of course; I will not press if you do not wish to speak. But you would be doing me a great favour; mistakes are by far the most interesting of conversations, and have the added benefit of making you feel better for unburdening yourself.'

[heartbeneathastone]

It's feels entirely wrong. He has never grown used to the idea of confiding in anyone about anything, except perhaps Cosette-- and even then, not everything, as he has demonstrated very clearly.

But he knows Courfeyrac's offer is sincere, no matter how lightly spoken. His offers of help always have been sincere.

Instead of unburdening himself, he says, "I am so very happy to see you."

[le_centre]

'And I you.'

He clasps Marius's arm warmly once again, because he is happy to see him. The man has always been a little odd, but many would say the same of...well, all of his friends. Courfeyrac likes odd.

'Well, then I shall unburden myself! I have missed you. But everyone is here, even Grantaire. All dead, but no matter; there is no finer place to be so. There is a library that none will ever find the end of, magic at all corners, such strange people that even you will look normal, and wonders to be found outside. An entire Labyrinth that may-'

Perhaps he is being overwhelming. He stops, still smiling.

'You see, there is much to tell. It may be that now is not the time, but if there is anything you would like to know, I am always to be found.'

Marius knows he can come any time. He has always known that, and even used it once or twice. Help, friendship, a genuine smile; all are readily available in this room.

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius does look overwhelmed, but that is easily achieved in the best of circumstances.

"Thank you."

He ducks his head and clears his throat. After the entirely overwhelming events that led to his arrival-- not to mention the arrival itself-- he is tired and confused, and at Courfeyrac's kindness, that open generosity he thought he would not ever see again-- he is suddenly afraid he will begin to cry, which would truly be too humiliating to be borne. He gropes for a safer topic, to buy himself a moment to try and collect himself.

"What, um. What are you wearing?"

[le_centre]

'Do you like it?'

He looks delighted to be asked, and springs to his feet to display himself.

'These are called jeans. They are riveted, or some such! They are very strong and very fashionable, or so I am led to believe. Look, they have this thing called a zip.'

He will spare Marius anything but a cursory glance at this.

'People from America call these shoes 'sneakers'. I cannot decide if they are excellent, or ugly - or perhaps both! - but either way, they are very comfortable and are what is supposed to be worn with the jeans. So! I am complete.'

He flops back down onto the sofa with a laugh, and slings his brandy down his throat in one gulp.

'You should see the things the bar gives Jehan to wear. You will not believe your eyes.'

[heartbeneathastone]

"Oh, uh, it's--"

Marius has no opinions at all about the jeans except that they look uncomfortable and strange. But Courfeyrac's explanation gives him a moment to sip his brandy, settle his thoughts.

"The bar gives...?" Sorry, you've lost him.

[le_centre]

'Indeed! The clothes are there in the wardrobe, entirely unasked for. Though sometimes I do ask, but it is only for purposes of research.'

Of course.

'There are times when patrons are given no choice at all, and we're forced to wear the most outlandish costumes. Bahorel adores it. Enjolras endures it.'

Another grin at this, a knowing one, because surely even Marius will see how the idea of Enjolras made to wear costumes is funny.

[heartbeneathastone]

It's a small flash of a smile, but it's definitely, distinctly a smile.

"The infirmary-- it is a wonder as well. I do not think I recognized a single thing."

[le_centre]

'Oh! Goodness, you should hear Joly and Combeferre wax on about it. I only understand a little of what they said at the best of times, and now we're here almost none of it at all. There is always some new thing that beeps, or some medical invention so they can sew ears onto people's legs, or something. Or mice's ears on to people's...I forget.'

Perhaps he heard that bit wrong. It also bears mentioning that this is a little rich, because anyone who knows modern technology would recognise an iPad on the desk, a laptop - that he has no idea how to use, or what it is for - a camera, an iPod and a television, DVD player and PS4 in the corner. No one could say Courfeyrac has not been educating himself on the ways of the future.

(There are a lot of books too.)

'But what were you doing in in the infirmary? You have seen Joly? It was he who told us you had come, but I didn't know it was there.'

[heartbeneathastone]

The topic seems impossible to avoid. He takes a breath.

"My-- Cosette's father, he-- he is ill." There, that's a good start. "That inspector, Javert, he came to us to tell us so. I had thought him dead. But he brought us to her father, and then-- here."

[le_centre]

'I see.'

He does not see. He read of the 'illness', yes, but - well, obviously things are different. The spy is supposed to be dead.

'It seems most out of character on both counts. That one should be useful, and the other ill. Also that one should not be dead, because he most certainly should be.'

He muses for a moment, then returns to the breath Marius just took.

'I have asked, when I said I would not. If this is what is grieving you, I apologise. But you see, the medicine here - it is as we have both noted, it is quite beyond anything Paris in 1832 can imagine. If it is possible for him to be made well, he would be. I wish him all recovery; he is a good man, and I know your wife would be most grieved. Joly will spare her it, I have no doubt at all.'

[heartbeneathastone]

"I thought he was!" Marius cries. "I was sure of it--" He stops, and shakes his head. "Joly is quite certain of his recovery. But it was I who made him ill."

[le_centre]

'Oh?'

His tone is entirely innocent.

'How so? I mean, not on the question of Javert - we all thought he was dead, and hoped for it, and were unpleasantly surprised to arrive here and discover it was not so. But that does not matter. You think it was you, and you alone, who made Cosette's father ill?'

[heartbeneathastone]

He tightens his grip on the glass of brandy, hunches over and frowns down into the cup.

"I sent him away." It comes out very quietly, but his voice does not waver. "I learned certain things about his past-- and thought I had discovered more-- and so I saw to it that he left, even ceased to visit. And the grief of this loss made him ill. So I think you may well say it was I, and I alone. It is true--" He falters for the first time. "There were things-- had he only told me, I would not, would never have-- he saved my life, you see!"

[le_centre]

'Yes, I know.'

He says it kindly. His mind is working furiously though, because there is nothing in this tale he has not heard or read. He is a little disappointed to hear that Marius has acted exactly as Hugo said he would, but not surprised.

'He is a good man. But you say he told you nothing? Then how were you to know? A man cannot assume any new arrival into their life would have saved their life without their knowledge. I do not think you can be blamed for that. And we all thought he killed Javert, because he said he was going to.'

It feels disingenuous to know this before being told it, and he is uneasy about it. On the other hand, to explain would mean telling Marius of the book, and the man has enough to deal with at present. He will apologise most profusely at some later date. In the meantime, he just puts his hand on Marius's shoulder.

'My friend, you condemn yourself too easily. We might all say 'if I had but known!' It is not how life works. What matters is how you behave when you do know. The worst of people would say, 'I care not!' and continue. The best admit their mistake, and do better from then on.'

Valjean could tell him something of that, he thinks. It is a lesson for anyone.

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius shakes his head. He'd like desperately to believe Courfeyrac, but he cannot allow himself that solace.

"He saved my life. And though I did not know that, he raised Cosette, and she is all goodness-- he denied himself the joy of seeing her because he could not bear to live a lie. All these point plainly to a good man, a great man, but I would not see it."

[le_centre]

'But how could you? How could anyone? Marius, he took the spy from the barricade, fired a shot and told us it was done. What reason had we to believe otherwise? To point and say, 'his daughter is good so he must be good' is to assume that anyone bad had bad parents. You could not judge his character that way.'

Courfeyrac believes choice makes a person; their actions and decisions, not where they come from.

'I will not tell you it was good to send a man away based on things you had learned. You will judge yourself for that. I am only going to remind you that you were not in possession of any fact that could have changed your mind. Condemn yourself if you must, only remember kindness as well. No man is perfect.'

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius shakes his head, brings a hand to his forehead. "No, no, but I should have been-- better."

He can't think of any way to make Courfeyrac understand, to explain what he means, except to-- well, explain it. He lifts his head at last. "I did not-- I think I never told you about-- my father?"

[le_centre]

He shakes his head.

'No, never.'

Everybody thinks they should be better. Everybody decent at least, or with the capacity for improvement. And some people who don't just have not realised yet that they can be. He understands that Marius is the type to be hard on himself, but that is why friends are good for a man, so they may remind him that he is good despite his faults.

[heartbeneathastone]

"I never knew him," Marius says. "My grandfather taught me to hate him, told me nothing, only that he was a villain and had left me. And so I despised him, too, though I had never know him. Even when he was dying, I did not wish to go. I did, and-- and arrived too late. I felt nothing." It's not the case now: tears are spilling down his cheeks, though he is doing what he can to wipe them away before Courfeyrac can see. "But then I learned-- entirely by accident I learned-- it was all untrue. He loved me. Even given every reason to think I did not him, he loved me. My grandfather lied and kept him from me, and so he died before I could know him. And so you see, I should have known better. How could I not see?"

[le_centre]

He listens, his hand on his friend's shoulder. Tears do not diminish him. In fact, they are good to see because they mean genuine contrition. Still, Courfeyrac thinks properly before answering.

'You cannot blame yourself for lies told to you in your youth. If you had no reason to suspect otherwise, and no means to investigate yourself, then that is not your fault. We are all fools when we are young.'

Some never grow out of it, but he does not believe this will be the case with Marius.

'Do you condemn yourself for not looking further into this? There is a difference between a grandfather telling a boy lies, and a conversation between men, where one admits he has done wrong. And then you said there was proof of the matter - and then further, the evidence of all our eyes at the barricade, when it seemed he had killed a man.'

Courfeyrac will not call that murder. The spy was judged by a people's court, and he knows Enjolras would have faced any consequences of it, should there have been any.

'You must not forget that you were gravely injured during the fighting, and you are recently married. It is not as though you have not had life to deal with. And let us be honest! There is a stigma against convicts that few are immune to, and would any of us set ourselves above it?'

He leans forward a little, squeezing his grip to add meaning to his words.

'Make your apologies. Reconcile your family. They love you and you them; all will be forgiven. And remember how this feels, so that the same might not happen again.'

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius puts his hand on top of Courfeyrac's, though he does not look at him.

"I can scarcely think I deserve such forgiveness. I could not forgive my grandfather, not for years. I have done no less than he did."

[le_centre]

'Ah, my friend.'

His smile is amused, but kind.

'I am afraid you do not get to decide if you are forgiven or not. If you are, then you are - and if you do not accept it, it is disingenuous. The matter of forgiving yourself is for your own conscience, but I hope you will remember to treat yourself with fairness.'

He does not hold out a great deal of hope in that regard, because he knows well how Marius tends to sink into himself. But he is married now, and can see friends here, so perhaps there is a chance.

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius scrubs his hands over his face. He is being entirely fair, as far as he can see: he has done something he could scarcely forgive in another, so why should he readily forgive himself?

"But it is for me to decide if I dare ask for it, is it not?"

[le_centre]

If he voiced that, Courfeyrac would say it might be a good place to start. Judgements are rarely helpful in anyone, but everyone is guilty of them.

He considers the question instead.

'Yes,' he says, at last.

'Of course. So long as you realise that even if you dare not ask for it, it may be granted anyway. There is nothing you can do to stop that. Your wife, for example - surely you will not think so little of her to imagine she might hold it against you forever?'

A cursory glance in the direction of Hugo's work would tell anyone that Valjean will not only forgive, but not consider asking for it necessary or even desirable. No, the problem will be with Marius himself.

'Consider this. That you do not ask, and berate yourself endlessly - something which may be taken as self-pity, I warn you - and in doing so, make the lives of those around you gloomy and dull. How would that be any better? I do not say act as though it is nothing, but perhaps - well, an honest conversation where you voice these fears may help. And if you cannot forgive yourself at once, then let it be known that you will at least try. That you will make some reparation, and allow time to pass and do what it does best. Wallowing in self-flagellation will not help anyone, and may hinder.'

[heartbeneathastone]

After a long, silent moment of consideration, Marius nods.

"Yes," he says slowly. "I suppose you are right."

(When has he ever asked someone's advice on this kind of problem? When has he ever had the chance? It's startlingly-- helpful, to have a clear opinion from outside cut through the mire of his own thoughts.)

[le_centre]

'Of course I am! How could you doubt it?'

He laughs loudly, and the clasp on Marius's shoulder turns into a friendly push.

'If it doesn't work, then we may consider other options. There are always other options, even if you do not expect them.'

Unless you are on a barricade in Paris, perhaps. But that was a chosen option - and Marius survived, against all the odds. The rest ended up here! Life, and death, are strange and wonderful things.

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius is leaning firmly towards the strange side of that perspective, particularly today.

"You have always been so kind to me, in ways I cannot hope to repay."

[le_centre]

No one could blame him.

'There is no need to repay me, Marius. That is what friends are for.'

His life would be easier if he understood that. But never mind, there is all the time in the world to show him.

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius does not protest, though he looks politely unconvinced.

"I should go to her," he says at last. A slight hesitation, then he adds, "But you-- you will still-- be here?"

Whether he means here, in this room or here, present, alive is up for debate.

[le_centre]

'Indeed you should! Now is not the time to be leaving her for long.'

Courfeyrac is aware that ladies frown on such things.

'And yes. I will be here - this room, or with any of the others, or downstairs, or outside. You can find me here any time, and I hope you do.'

All completely genuine. Courfeyrac has missed Marius, odd young man as he is.

'And you will remember all I've said?'

[heartbeneathastone]

"I will."

Marius missed Courfeyrac, too, though at present he cannot shake the feeling that he has barged in and imposed himself, once again, on Courfeyrac's kindness.

"I will come, and I will remember."