35After the visit to the cemetery, there's the exchange of numbers before they part ways for the evening. The following day, they manage to bump into each other at the local coffee shop, which he simply brushes off as a mere coincidence. However, when he sees her at the supermarket later that week and at the bookstore a few towns over the following week, he begins to think these random meetings are more than a simple coincidence. For a while, he starts to think he is beginning to go insane.
"Have you called her yet?" is the first thing Combeferre asks him after he explains what he has experienced the past few weeks since Marius' and Cosette's party.
Enjolras shakes his head, a part of him already guessing where this could be going.
"Then perhaps you should, and organize an outing with her. Take her out to dinner or go for a stroll in the park and look at the lights." Combeferre suggests, before taking a small sip of coffee. He does not realize he does it, but his friend gives him a stare that usually results from him rolling his eyes. "This may be fate's way of telling you to take a chance, to move on, or maybe Natalie is intervening."
"Natalie—"
"—would want you to be happy, and to be honest, Luc, I cannot recall a single time you have smiled in the past two years, not one. I do not think anyone has." Enjolras tries to argue, but Combeferre's slightly raised hand stops him. "If you are not ready to move on, then that's the way it is, and I am not going to force you to call Éponine and ask her out. What I am telling you is that maybe you should give her a chance, explore the possibilities you may have with her."
Enjolras' eyes flicker to his empty coffee mug, when Combeferre reaches across the table and takes his hands. "I know losing Natalie and Rosalie, especially in a short span of time, was not an easy thing to go through, especially since they both meant so much to you, but I do not think either of them would want you to waste your life away mourning for them."
He tries to deny the truth of his friend's words, but he knows no matter how long he denies it, that his friend is not wrong. It is not something he and Combeferre have to argue about to figure out who is right, especially with a topic as sensitive as this.
"She's a nice girl, and has been through a lot herself, according to Marius and Jehan. I cannot say her past is parallel to yours, but there are similarities." Combeferre mentions, releasing his hands. "Give her a chance before you allow your past to consume you, and maybe you'll be surprised."
The next time he sees her again, it is a few days before Christmas. They meet in one of the local cafés for coffee before heading over to the park to view the many scenes set up using various colored lights, some holiday or winter-themed, while others were seemingly random, such as a dolphin jumping into a pool of water.
The evening ends when he drops her off at her apartment, seeing her to the door and saying he'll call her. She invites him inside for a moment, but he quickly shakes his head, making the claim he has meeting early in the morning, which he actually does. However, just as he is about to head down the stairs to the complex's entrance, she calls out him, causing him to freeze mid-step.
"I know this is short notice and all, but my sister and her boyfriend are having a small get-together on Christmas Eve at their place, and I was wondering if you would like to accompany me?" she asks, standing in her doorway. "I mean, if you have other plans, I understand if—"
"Of course." he replies. He was actually going to try and spend a few extra hours at the office, but with the holidays and Mabeuf, it wasn't likely for him to succeed. "What time?"
"The gathering starts at six, so if we meet up at the café at five-thirty…"
"How about I pick you up here at five-thirty instead?" he suggests, hoping to make things a bit easier.
She nods. "Sounds great. I'll see you then."
The difficulty of finding a parking space in the forest of cars of the hospital parking lot does not help his anxiety at all, and the last thing he needs to hear when he gets inside is Joly lecturing him about his hypertension for millionth time and what it could cause if he's not careful. He just needs to get to her, to see her, to put some peace in his mind.
Once he finally manages to park his car, he does not waste time rushing to the wide sliding doors of the facility's entrance, not too surprised to see Combeferre and Joly standing there, waiting for him. He can already tell by the looks on their faces that things are not well.
He is about to avoid them and ask the receptionist on her whereabouts, but a tight grip on his arm by Combeferre stops him, and an unamused glare from Joly (a rare sight) tells him he needs to sit down. Without protest, he allows Combeferre to lead him to one of the nearby chairs, before collapsing into the fabricated seat.
"I thought both of you were working the late shift tonight." he says, observing that both men are wearing their white lab coats over their clothes. "Am I mistaken?"
"No." Combeferre replies, taking a seat beside him. "But you need us more."
"They will not let us work if we are 'emotionally compromised,'" Joly adds, sitting down across from them "because it could cost someone's life if our thoughts become too occupied, especially in this case, and then lawyers might get involved—you know how it goes."
Enjolras nods, not willing to argue with his friends' ways of support. They are, after all, only trying to help, but the looks on their faces are not reassuring. He can practically smell the melancholy from Joly, while Combeferre can barely meet his gaze.
Winter ends and spring passes, followed by the barely-noticeable arrival of summer before the leaves begin to change color once again. Without much notice by either of them, it is late November.
Without much debate, she accompanies him to the cemetery, a journey that he has taken by himself for almost fifteen years.
It has come to that one point in their relationship where they have a complete understanding of why the other behaves the way they do, what topics they shut out. They knew how to be careful and prevent offense. They have shared stories of their pasts, good and bad, and yet there were still stories neither of them had shared.
The story of his parents he shares following his placing of the two pink carnations in front of the stone.
"The year before, my father did his best to explain to an eight-year-old that his mother has cancer." he tells her after he explains the details of the accident. "Ever since I was old enough to understand, when Combeferre's father told me what my father had meant, I found myself believing that her death in the accident was better for her, so she would not have to suffer since the treatments were not working."
Combeferre's father and his father had met one another during their college days, and had been friends long after that. It was because of their fathers that Combeferre and Enjolras met as toddlers. The trust and bond between the two families had been so strong, that one entrusted the other in raising their child in the case of a tragic accident where both parents were lost.
The next grave they visit is the one he is certain will be the most difficult to explain, and not because this one will provide much explanation of the final one. He can still feel the pain of loss from within, as words continue to plague his mind as to how he will explain to her the events that had occurred before he knew her. For days, he had planned it out on paper, the notes on the legal pad an absolute mess of crossed-out words and additions, before they were scrapped and tossed into the recycle bin. No matter how many times he tried, he found that the words were not right, no matter what he did with them.
They stand at the grave for a few minutes in silence, both of them trying not to shiver with cool and bitter air of late autumn. The wind ruffles her hair a bit, and she struggles to brush it from her face, as it always seems to return shortly after fixing it. He smiles slightly out of amusement, though he does not think she notices. He reaches for the dark crimson rose from inside his jacket, before placing it in front of the stone bearing the name, "Natalie Elise Enjolras née Sauveterre."
He tries to find the words to explain to Éponine who she was, when a comforting hand reaches his shoulder.
"Marius told me." she says, her head turning to the grave before them. "I'm sorry."
He nods, his eyes focused on the stone. "It wasn't your fault."
He then begins to tell her the story of how he met her in pre-school and managed to keep in touch through college, the unscripted words spilling out. He mentions how when he woke up for the first time since the accident, of how she was there with Combeferre and his father, holding on to the ragged plush cat he had held onto during the crash. He tells her of the marriage pact they made when they were twelve years old, how they would marry each other if neither of them managed to find the right one by the time they were thirty-five, but how that suddenly changed when she was diagnosed at twenty-five with a rare disease that would not allow her to see many days beyond thirty, if even that.
"I was with her when they told her the diagnosis," he recalls, closing his eyes. "She…she did not say a word, and did not break down until I dropped her off at her apartment."
It had pained him to see his childhood friend in such a state, and it still hurt to think about it.
He had spent that night with her, trying to calm Natalie down with soothing words and the false phrases that everything would be fine, knowing nothing would be the same. They sat on the couch, watching some of her favorite films as the late hours passed by and continued into the morning, the pair of them sitting close on the couch, sharing a bag of popcorn.
"I do not think I will ever know what prompted the thought, but before I could catch myself, I suggested that we should just get married then."
Éponine manages to smirk. "How did she take that?"
The next thing he could remember was Natalie giving him a good, hard slap across the face, obviously her first thought being that the suggestion was a joke, and she apologized the moment she realized he was serious. It was not even two months later when he found her walking down the aisle in simple white gown, and becoming a married man within the same hour.
"Did you ever talk of children?" Éponine asks rather hesitantly as they begin to walk away from the grave, him leading her to other gravesite.
He takes a deep breath, his eyes looking towards the ground as their pace had gone slow. "…Yes…"
She nods. "And what were her thoughts?"
"She wanted them; three or four was what she imagined." Enjolras replies slowly, recalling to mind the many different times the subject had come up, from their teenage years and onward. "Personally, I had never given it much thought, other than one or two once I would have considered myself 'financially stable,' but she did not have time to wait that long."
He can remember how Natalie had been when she had believed that was one thing she could never have, something she would not live long enough to experience. He tells Éponine of how she had eventually come up with the idea of having a child or two sooner rather than later.
"She did not want to leave me alone," he went on to say, "I thought it was a risk that would take its toll on her, and decrease her already-short life expectancy."
He went on to explain how they ended up giving each other the cold shoulder for almost a week because of it, and how she had at one point locked him outside in the pouring rain without his phone, keys, or jacket in hopes of winning the dispute. However, that resulted in him heading to Courfeyrac's apartment on foot, since it was the closest place to seek refuge apart from his home. His timing could have not been worse, as his friend was in the middle of…entertaining…his girlfriend, whoever she was.
"You poor man." Éponine feigns sympathy, a smirk on her face. "Did he suggest you to join in?"
Enjolras hesitates, his already-reddened cheeks becoming a shade darker, before nodding, and the woman laughs in return.
"I did, however, decline the offer." he stammers slightly. "My explanation being that Natalie would have not been pleased."
He immediately shifts the conversation back towards its focus, not wanting to dive further into that detail of the story. He then explains how Natalie had eventually put much thought throughout that cold week, resulting in her agreeing with him.
"However, as careful as we were to prevent a child from entering the world, it appeared life decided to throw another curveball our way."
Natalie had suddenly fallen ill with what was thought to be the flu, something he found odd for May, so far out of the flu season, but he did not consider it impossible. When the said ailment had not subsided after a little over a week, they had made the decision to visit the hospital to see what could possibly be the issue.
"She was thrilled when she found out she was going to be a mother, and for those short moments, I do not think I had ever seen her happier."
It was advised that she should have an abortion, given Natalie's slowly fading health. She had grown furious at the suggestion, not wanting to lose out on this one of the few opportunities she had left. Enjolras, however, had found himself torn between the chance of being a father and keeping his wife and childhood friend alive for as long as possible, and in the end, he had told Natalie he would support her with whatever decision she made, though in his mind he might disagree. In the end, she chose to keep it.
"She was seven months along when the doctor told us it would be best to have the child delivered as soon as possible, by Caesarean, in order for Natalie to last a few more weeks."
But Natalie had not lasted that long. Shortly after the child was born, before she had a chance to hold their daughter, she had taken her last breath at twenty-eight.
He remembered being kicked out of room the moment she flat-lined, as the doctor and nurses rushed to try and save her, while he watched helplessly through the window. Combeferre had stood by him, trying to calm him down as he fought to get back into the room, before he sank to the ground as he saw the doctor declare the time of death: 6:32 PM, on November 23 of that year.
The first time he saw his daughter, he could not even look at her without placing her mother's death upon her. At the same time, he blamed himself for the same crime.
By this point, Enjolras and Éponine arrive at the third gravesite, and without the exchange of words, the latter turns towards him, shaking her head in disbelief. He nods, kneeling down in front of the small headstone to place a lone marigold on the ground before it.
Rosalie, a name that he and Natalie had agreed upon, other than being born prematurely, was healthy. No sign of disease or anything else that would shorten her life in the foreseeable future.
But of course, not even three weeks later, life had decided once again to tear him apart. On December 11, while she was still in the hospital and he was at work, she died suddenly, and no one was able to tell him why.
"'Sometimes, it just happens,' is all they could tell me. No explanation or possible cause." he tells Éponine sorrowfully, "And what makes it worse, is that I was not even there."
Éponine crouches down beside him, offering her gloved hand and an empathetic smile. He takes it as they slowly stand up, and after a few moments of silence, they walk away.
He thinks they are about to leave the cemetery and begins to head towards the gate, but as he turns, she tugs on his arm gently, enough to get him to stop in his step and turn his head towards her.
"Before we leave, I think there is something you should see."
"What have they told you?" he finally brings himself to say, trying his best to keep his voice calm and level, though he's shaking on the inside, and he knows at least Combeferre senses that.
Neither of them respond for the longest time, as if the passage of time would somehow just take away the reality of the day, or have it start all over to prevent it all from happening, but none of them have the power to do that. Instead, the three of them only sit there in silence. At one point, Joly disappeared and returned with an ice cold bottle of water, and tried to hand it to Enjolras, but the man took no notice of the bottle in front of him, even as Joly tried to capture his attention by saying his name.
"What have they told you?" he repeats, his steel-blue eyes almost hostile, but his voice remains steady despite the feeling of shattered glass within him. However, he is sick with prolonging the inevitable. He knows it isn't easy to hear what he might hear or for them to say what they have to say, but he is aware that by continuing on in silence is not going to help any of them.
Joly and Combeferre explain everything they can, switching between the bearers of news. Combeferre manages to keep his voice steady and comforting, but Joly was struggling not stutter or pause while he spoke. Enjolras constantly hears a vast amount of medical terms that he is certain he has heard many times before and yet barely understands, but what they are saying is comprehensible enough for him to have an overall understanding of their words. However, some of the words they spoke were enough for him to feel ice cracking beneath his feet, and a part of him is waiting to fall through without any hope of return.
'Flat-line' comes up at least three times between the two of them, and he hopes that they were referring to it as a one-time occurrence, which is still enough of a dagger in him. 'Serious trauma' must have come up at least five times, each time followed by a different name and place than before.
"One of the paramedics…They told me she was lucky to still be alive before making it to the hospital." Joly mentions during one of his turns. Enjolras knows he saw her, too, but is aware that Joly is sparing him such details.
Once the explaining is done, the only thing he asks is if he can see her.