Combeferre had expected something to happen to one of them.
Enjolras, of course, was a likely target. Even Courfeyrac.
But he had never placed himself near the top of that list.
Not really. So when they grabbed him from behind it took
several moments of surprise before he even attempted to
fight, and the chloroform was taking affect by them.And when he awoke, it was to find himself tied to a chair in a
cold room— only dimly aware of his missing shirt and shoes.What came next Combeferre would gladly wipe from his
memory— though he knew that was a useless hope. For
some things couldn’t be forgotten— and the scars left behind
on his body would never allow him that dim hope in the end.When the gunshots started in the distance he could sense
the nervousness of the men in the room, looking at them with
a knowing, albeit weak, smile. Because all he had told them
throughout his time there was that Enjolras would be coming.And he had.
When his friend burst into the room he shut his eyes and turned
his face away, unable to move from the restraints that were
keeping him to the chair. Also probably the only thing keeping
him upright. When it was quiet he looked up, smiling weakly at them.“I told them you’d come.”
:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::
It’s a miracle that they don’t shoot
Combeferre when Enjolras first opens
fire. He’s sure he sees muzzle flashes,
but nothing hits him– yet, he hits them
all. This will never happen again, but
the Gods approve, they must– to allow
him to sweep the room of breath like
that. It’s a slaughterhouse. He has no
regrets. Not if it means Combeferre is
alive, weak and bloodied but alive.
( Enjolras rushes over. )
“Too bad we couldn’t chat.” How
he can find it in himself to joke– he
doesn’t quite know but combeferre’s
alive and he is here and Enjolras–
he sinks to his knees for absolution.
His hand is hot from the burn of gun-
powder as he cups Combeferre’s face,
gritty thumb brushing just under the
fresh purple bloom of his jaw. Sea-
foam blues track the trickle of blood
from behind his ear down his neck.
“We need to go. Can you– Did
they break your– I have to untie
you.” It seems like he’s floundering,
now that he’s here– now that he’s
seen him, Enjolras finds the gods
have deserted him and he has to
take a breath, shake the tremors
from his fingers as he reaches for
his knife to cut through the ropes.
“Can you walk? We have a car out.”
( I will carry you, he doesn’t say.
he doesn’t have to. )