heartbeneathastone | more reunions

Enjolras lifts one hand in a spare gesture, with a wry twist to his mouth: yes, as you say.

"A great change, yes. One finds it hard not to chafe. But at the same time, the Library here contains great wealth of knowledge, even of the future. Of progress, triumphs -- and setbacks, that too. But, Marius, history books here tell of the establishment of a republic for France at last, and indeed republics across Europe."

Marius never worked much with their society on a day-to-day basis. But he was committed enough to come to the barricade, and to fight like a tiger there, until he fell with the last holdouts outside the Corinthe; he was a savior of the barricade, and a brother-in-arms. He'll be glad to hear this.

Marius hasn't yet encountered the temporal strangeness of Milliways-- everyone he has met has been from his own time, even if they are dead. So he looks rather more startled than joyful.

"And these books-- they are true?"

"By all the evidence I've seen -- yes."

It's not all happy news. Not at all. But all the same, he can only say this like a sacred truth, with a quiet glow of joy.

Marius nods. Then, unsure what to say, nods again.

"I--" he begins at last. "I have thought about a-- a great deal. Since."

Enjolras makes an inquiring noise. Oh? Carry on, please, Marius; he's interested to hear what you're thinking.

There was a time, of course, years ago, when he could speak confidently and at length about his beliefs. He hardly remembers what that kind of certainty feels like, how to possibly muster that confidence, when every time he has been sure he finally knew what to believe, something has come along to upend him entirely.

"Nothing-- profound, or-- or practical," he says at last. "Only the rightness of your cause, and my-- my tardiness in coming to it."

Enjolras reaches out, in silence, to press his brother's shoulder warmly.

"A profound subject," he says after a moment, voice deep with sincere feeling, "and practicality will follow."

It's not that tardiness doesn't matter, but -- "We have always welcomed you, and any thoughts you wish to share. There are others still alive in Paris who will do the same, my friend, when you're ready."

Marius's scars are hardly visible beneath hair and clothing. But Enjolras remembers: his face a mask of blood, the way he fell limp as a corpse at the last with an explosion of red spreading across his shirt.

Marius bows his head at Enjolras's touch.

"I hardly know what ready means," he says. "So often I have thought myself right, and settled, only to find... I do not know how to know if I..."

"I have found," says Enjolras quietly, when it's clear that Marius isn't planning to finish his sentence, "that friends are the best and only way to learn what's worth being certain about. Friends, and all the voices of the people."

Is it cruel to say so to a man who's just lost most, perhaps all, of his friends? Maybe. But it's also true. Better a harsh truth than a kind lie.

And they aren't as lost to him as death would otherwise dictate. A grace despite all logic: Marius is here, and so are they.

"I am afraid I have few friends in Paris," Marius says with a tentative, rueful smile. "Unless-- unless you have also begun to teach Cosette about the republic."

A joke! A very, very timid one!

It takes Enjolras a moment to recognize the joke, but it sparks a faint smile in response.

Mostly it's in response to the fact of Marius attempting a joke. Enjolras doesn't actually get the humor -- why would it be a joke to teach anybody about the republic? unless it's about him talking much to Marius's wife? -- but he's glad to see the moment of tentative relaxation.

"I'm very sorry to hear it." Not surprised, but sorry. "But you have us, here."

"Oh, I-- I have never minded being alone," Marius says. He feels like they have strayed from the point. "But I am glad-- so very glad-- to see you all again."

The point is FRIENDS AND THE REPUBLIC, isn't it? Because seriously Enjolras can talk about that for another several hours.

"I know."

That's to both, although more the latter, and said with another faint, warm smile.

"But what I mean is that if there's any help we can give you, whether it's speaking of certainties or anything else, I hope you know that you can always come to us. It's not a matter of debts, or if it is, we owe you. None of us has any say over that door, but if it opens to you..."

Well. They're here, that's all.

"You owe me nothing," he says quickly. "I-- I would, would very happily speak with you. If, as you say, that is the best way to-- understand."

It makes him feel embarrassed, as even the thought of depending on other people always does. But he depends on Cosette now, does he not? And she on him, and there are no debts between them. But that's a marriage, it's different.

"And if I-- if, in return, there is anything I-- that is, Joly and Laigle have asked that I look into-- certain matters on their behalf. If there is anything that concerns you back in Paris..."

"Of course there is," Enjolras says, something like gently. If he were someone else, it might be wry with understatement, but he's too sincere for that.

His true love languishes still under control of a tyrant, i.e. the monarchy.

"Any efforts you'd be willing to make would be deeply appreciated. Even simple messages carried would be a great help. But I won't ask you to act beyond what you're certain you're willing to do."

But this is Marius Pontmercy, and that very obvious answer to his offer had not occurred to him.

"Oh," he says. "Oh-- yes. What manner of message?" Is he going to have to explain how he is receiving directions from Enjolras from beyond the grave?

"Nothing that would cause awkward explanations. It'd depend on what you were interested in doing. But -- well, immediately, I can tell you that there are those in sympathy with us in danger from Javert, in Montmartre. He's told me so openly."

"What?" Marius looks startled. "Was it some sort of-- of misdirection? Why would he tell you so?"

The question of Javert-- how he survived, what he is doing here, why he came to save Valjean's life-- is one that Marius has not even begun to attempt to untangle.

Enjolras snorts, somewhat involuntarily.

"I've wondered that."

Seriously, Javert.

"As far as I can tell, it's because he enjoys the idea of taunting dead men. He thinks it'll lose him nothing."

And he perpetually, insistently underestimates them. It might be canny, except for how clearly it's been demonstrated to be genuine.

Marius bristles slightly at the thought. "That is cruel, and ignoble! And to do so when he himself as brought me here, knowing, as he does--!" He blushes slightly, and looks down. "He could know only that I was at the barricade, not that I was not truly a member of your society."

Enjolras isn't going to disagree there. Cruel and ignoble, yes, but he's never seen Javert be anything else.

(Javert doesn't work very hard at showing his best side to anyone, but he certainly doesn't show it to Enjolras.)

"He doesn't seem to have thought that through." This is a little dry. But he's only serious when he continues, "Bringing you here, that is. I certainly have no intention of pointing it out to him. But it's very lucky for us."

"And as for that -- you fought as bravely as any." Marius earned a great deal of respect that day, and Enjolras will never do less than to show it to him.

"Bravery borne of-- madness, and despair, it was not--" He breaks off and looks away again, runs a hand through his hair. The scars that disappear into the mess of black curls are still raised; he can feel them as he passes his hand across his brow.

He wants to apologize and retreat, shy away from pretending to take part in something he rejected and does not deserve. But the memory of his conversation with Courfeyrac pops, unbidden, into his mind. So he forces himself to lift his head and say, "But I will do-- better than I have done. I will try."

In this, at least, even if he does not know how to begin to make his other wrongs right.

Enjolras has only guesses as to what Marius feels he needs to atone for, some of them tentative and others merely confused. But it doesn't matter; he won't pry.

Instead he only presses Marius's arm lightly. "What more can any of us do?"

A very small smile. "Do you know, that is almost precisely what Courfeyrac said."

Enjolras returns the smile in kind, only less tentative, and warmer.

"He's a wise man. I've found him always well worth listening to."

Marius nods, and lets out a slightly shaky breath.

"I am so very glad to see him again. All of you."

He has been so assiduously avoiding thinking about them, and the barricades-- he wonders if that has made the reunion easier or harder.

He collects himself. "If there is some message, some warning I may pass to your friends in Montmartre in a form they will believe, I will make it my first errand upon returning to Paris."

"Thank you."

Just those words, but the sincerity is very nearly palpable.

Marius nods. In a burst of feeling that overcomes even his natural reserve-- they fought together, they ought to have died together-- he reaches out and clasps Enjolras's arm.

Enjolras clasps his arm in return, with quiet fervor.

Redundant to say once more that he's glad to see Marius, that it's very good to see him alive and well, that Marius's reflection upon acting for his ideals does him credit. Still true.

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