Courfeyrac and the Several Amis: A Les Mis AU

Chapter 8

A few days later, all of the Amis were going out. Well, almost all the Amis. Courfeyrac volunteered to stay home and make sure no one robbed the house. They usually kept a person at home--the day Courfeyrac came was an exception--while everyone else was out.

He was working on a surprise pie when the door knocked. He looked at the door suspiciously. No one was supposed to be home for hours, and besides, they would've just come in.

He slipped over to the door, and opened it carefully. To his surprise, it was Combeferre standing outside.

"Oh! It's you! Hello, again," Courfeyrac said with a sigh of relief. He was smitten again in a moment. How the world could stand having such a perfect human in it who was also single was shocking.

"Hello, my dear--friend," Combeferre said with a bit of a stammer, and he sounded awful. His voice sounded more like an seventy-year-old man with a breathing problem than a twenty-something year-old man who didn't appear to have any health issues as of the last time Courfeyrac had seen him. Actually, it sounded more like a woman pretending to be a man, if he was honest.

Courfeyrac's eyebrows knitted with concern. "Are you all right? You sound... feminine."

"Yes, yes, just--a bit of a cold, that's all," Combeferre replied, clearing his throat. Courfeyrac opened the door a bit wider so his friend could come in.

"How did you find me?" he asked, holding out a chair so Combeferre could sit. Someone that sick should rest as much as humanly possible.

"'With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.'" Combeferre smiled a little too big. "Also, my kingdom is having quite a harvest of apples, so I thought I would bring you one." He held out a red apple.

Courfeyrac scratched his head. "That 'love's over there attempting to get stoned, you kingsmen aren't stopping me now,' that was something Shakespeare, right?"

"Yes, one of the best lines from Julius Caesar," Combeferre replied as Courfeyrac was about to take a bite.

"Actually, I think it was Romeo who said it," Courfeyrac said, and Combeferre looked a bit disappointed that Courfeyrac hadn't tried the apple yet. It was a bright, almost glowing red. "It's a pretty famous quote."

"Yes, indeed it is," Combeferre said, taking out his handkerchief as Courfeyrac nibbled at the apple, and his nose wrinkled. "How do you like it?"

"I'm not sure how I feel about this, honestly," Courfeyrac said uncertainly. It was extremely sour and had the worst aftertaste he had ever experienced. As he was chewing, he watched Combeferre absentmindedly twisting his handkerchief in his hand. "Wait, wasn't that ripped?"

"No, it wasn't," Combeferre said as his hair seemed to look longer and grayer. He turned around to face Courfeyrac, and the apple went right down the wrong way. It was not Combeferre.

"M-Madame?" Courfeyrac choked, his face turning bright red, trying to breathe. "Why?"

"You should've figured out sooner, I'm sure you little nerdy sweetie wouldn't mess up a literature quote," Madame said with a smirk.

"Y-you--" Courfeyrac struggled to say, trying to force the apple out of his throat by pushing on his stomach but failing, "Never--call--him--that!"

"Or what? You're too busy choking to stop me," Madame sighed, picking at her nails, "Where is a prince when you need him? He probably doesn't even remember you. Most men don't. They find something else to fixate their attention on, whether it's another woman, or another man, or even their own child concerns them more than you. Even when they seem like they're the most perfect person in the world--" Courfeyrac was on his knees "--their feelings will turn out to be only a fantasy, and they won't ever come back to you. Never."

Courfeyrac fell to the floor unconscious, and Madame laughed, nudging him hard with her foot. He didn't move. She took off the useless glasses as she left the house with a triumphant smirk on her face, pretending that nothing was happening inside. She bolted the door, just to be sure everything was how she wanted it when Les Amis got home.

Les Amis were returning from their work. Madame knew she had to distract them for one more moment, so she pitched a stone against a tree to get their attention. Living in the woods all the time, though, they barely heard the distraction.

Nonetheless, she quickly ducked under a bush before they could spot her, and they approached the house as if everything was normal.

Enjolras shook the door handle. "I thought I left it unlocked."

"Well, I didn't lock it," Grantaire replied, testing it himself.

"I didn't blame you, I was just saying that I didn't," Enjolras retaliated, and Grantaire wrapped his arms around him and hid his face in his shoulder before he got any more annoyed.

Finally, the door gave in, everyone went inside. Madame stayed only long enough to hear the affirming shout from Marius, "Courfeyrac! Courfeyrac, what's wrong? Are you alright? Come on, wake up! What happened? Joly, why won't he wake up?"

Joly knelt down next to his unresponsive friend, taking his wrist and checking for a pulse. "Oh my... he's..."

"What?" Eponine started shaking Courfeyrac a bit, possibly more than was healthy. "He's what?"

"I think... if I had to guess, he choked on something and..." Joly was trembling. "He died."

Grantaire bent down. "Shouldn't we be able to pull the thing out, maybe? Reach in and get it? Isn't that what you taught us all to do if someone choked? Or was it shove their chest up and down to get the heart beating?"

"That's called chest compressions," Feuilly corrected him.

Joly shook his head. "He's already gone. We were too late."

Marius rested Courfeyrac's head against his shoulder and hugged him. "I don't want him to be dead, Joly..." he begged, sniffling with tears running down his face. "Please don't be dead, Courfeyrac... you're my best friend... " He was sobbing at this point.

"Well..." Joly looked down. "There's nothing that we can do."

The group couldn't bear to bury their friend, not yet, so they constructed a coffin out of gold and glass to place him in. They wanted to add flowers, but there weren't any in season at the time. They spent their days sadly mourning their friend, wishing more than anything that they could bring him back.