Comfort in the Cold (Les Mis- Marius)

[Dusty15]

A one-shot about Marius, set before the events in Les Mis.

As a bit of clarification...in the novel Les Miserables, Marius was wealthy but then leaves his family (specifically his Grandfather, who was raising him) because of much family deception about his father and his family's past. He ends up living almost penniless in a single room in the Paris slums, where he meets the schoolboys of the revolution. Eponine's family lives in an adjacent apartment. They are not really friends in the novel (just acquaintances), but for the purposes of this story, we're erring more on the musical side of their relationship. So this is a bit of a mashup of film, book, and musical (though if you've seen/read any of them, you should be fine to follow along!)

Enjoy!

For the first time since he'd left the comforts of his family home, Marius truly wished for his old bedroom and the roaring fires of his Grandfather's apartments. Huddled under a mound of tattered blankets on his squeaky cot, he extended his hands towards the tiny gas lamp on the nightstand and tried to get some warmth into his fingers. It was cold enough in the small room to see his breath when he ventured briefly from under the shield of his bedcovers, which were pulled up over his nose. Judging from the wintery sunlight filtering through the dusty, cracked window and the sound of the distant bells of Notre Dame, it was around ten in the morning and Marius was overdue to be heading to the local Cafe Musain for his daily meal and a meeting of the Friends of the ABC.

From the shelter of his bed, he stared across the room towards his clothing hung over the single chair. He wished he were already bundled in his coat to prevent the inevitable chill he'd acquire upon getting up. Besides being half-frozen, he was already feeling out of sorts with what he was sure was the beginning of a head-cold. Gathering his strength, he kicked the blankets aside and made a dash for his clothing, dressing quickly as his frigid fingers struggled to fasten all the buttons on his fall-front trousers and his waistcoat. Over his jacket he added a long coat and knotted a ragged flannel scarf around his neck. He'd not yet acquired a pair of gloves, so he kept his hands gathered inside his sleeves as he went down the stairs from his room and out into the windy Paris streets.

By the time he reached Cafe Musain he was shivering visibly and feeling like he ought to have stayed in bed. Inside, he ignored the shouts of his fellow revolutionaries and took a seat close to the roaring hearth. His friend Courferyac came over to join him.

“Why won't you sit with us, friend?” he asked.

“I'm chilled,” Marius explained, sitting with his coat still wrapped firmly around his thin frame. “My windows- they leak and I barely stopped shivering all night.”

“Poor Marius,” Enjorlas teased, overhearing the two men. “Not used to living like the rest of us yet, eh?”

Marius ignored the jab, too distracted by a sudden fit of coughs that seized his chest and made him bend forward, shuddering. Courferyac put his hand on Marius' back and gave him a pat.

“Ignore Enjorlas,” he said. “You sound ill. Come by my room after we meet and I'll give you another quilt. I have an extra.”

Marius surfaced from the coughing fit, looking at his friend gratefully.

“Thank you, I will.”

“I'll ask the barman for a hot Elder wine for you,” Courferyac said. “It always warms me up.”

He disappeared, leaving Marius to his thoughts as he stared into the roaring fire. When he returned with a steaming cup, Marius took the hot elderberry wine gratefully and sipped it.

“Alright, men!” Enjorlas commanded. “To your seats. We have much to discuss.”

Marius took his place at the long row of cafe tables as the planning and debates began. Normally he spoke passionately about his politics, but today he kept quiet. Resting his head in the palm of one hand, he put an elbow on the table and leaned into it. By now he was sure he was ill. His nose was beginning to run and he sniffed in quiet rhythm to keep it from leaking. A case of the sniffles was not uncommon amoung the men during these colder months. In fact, another compatriot from the group, Petraque, was missing today after coughing constantly during the last meeting. Still, it didn't mean that being ill wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, among the poor, it meant a great deal of discomfort in drafty houses with clothes and beds too cold for proper rest.

“Marius, what say you?” Courferyac asked from beside Marius. Marius looked up at the expectant faces of his friends and shook his head.

“I'm sorry lads,” he said. “I'm not myself. I'll stay quiet on the subject.”

“Perhaps Monsieur Marius should excuse himself and be off before he makes the lot of us ill,” someone suggested.

“I think it best,” Enjorlas announced, his voice holding a hint of sympathy. “Do you still have some of your fine handkerchiefs, Pontmercy, or should we take up a collection?”

“What I have will suffice,” Marius replied, standing and hugging his coat tightly around himself. “I will see you all next meeting. My apologies.”

There was a chorus of good wishes as he left the inn and went back out into the windy street. The freezing air stung his nose and he instantly felt an itch inside that sent him pitching forward into his coat sleeve with a wet sneeze.

Nhg'ghshtt!

He snuffled wetly for a moment, keeping his jacket sleeve against his sore nose. Finally, confident enough to remove it, he hastily pulled up his scarf over his face and held in in place with frozen fingers as he made his way home.

His building was as cold as he'd left it and he made his way up the creaky stairs, breathing heavily with the effort. By the time he reached his flat, he was coated in a cold sweat and his nose was running freely down his ice-stung lips. He unlocked his room and relocked the door behind himself, going immediately to his small trunk and getting out a handkerchief, pressing it to his drippy nose. He gave it a light blow and kept it shielding his face as his lips curled in preparation for another sneeze.

Huhhr'tsghhtt!

Groaning, he sat on his cot and kicked off his boots, climbing under the covers in full dress. He snuggled up into a ball on his side, the layered blankets tucked tight. He closed his eyes, willing himself into a healing sleep.

He dozed off for a short while before waking himself with a volley of coughs that left him red-faced. Gasping for breath, he braced himself against the fit, making the bed shake. He could see his own breath in the air coming in hot clouds from his puffing cheeks. Finally they quieted and Marius lay panting and sniffling wetly. His whole nose felt wet around the edges and raw in the cold air. He took a bit of his blankets and pulled them over his face to shield his nose, letting his own hot breath warm the skin.

Nghh-tsh'ghhtt!

He sneezed into the quilt and resorted to wiping his sore nose lightly with it.

There was a knock on his door.

Marius rose, a blanket around his shoulders, and shuffled in stocking feet to open it, expecting to find dear Courferyac bringing by his promised quilt. Instead he found Eponine, a local street girl and his neighbor.

“Pardon, Monsieur,” she said, looking him up and down. “You're bothering papa with your coughing. He's sent me to see to you.”

“My apologies,” Marius said, embarrassed. The walls were paper thin in the house and he'd been kept awake many times by Eponine's family, especially her ridiculous parents who were prone to frequent shouting matches. “I'll try to be quiet.”

“You're very ill,” Eponine said, extending her hand and touching it to his forehead. “May I come in?”

“I don't think it's necessary,” he said. “I don't want to get you ill.”

“You know how we live,” she said. “If I'm not already ill, I'll be fine.”

She pushed past him and into the small room, looking around.

“It's warmer in her than in our room,” she said. “Or maybe it just smells better.”

“I couldn't say,” Marius replied wearily as he sniffled again.

“Go to your bed and rest. Do you have a book? I can read, you know. I'll read to you.”

“In the trunk,” Marius said, climbing back into his bed. “Really, I should just go back to sleep.”

“I'll read until you do,” she said, taking a book from his trunk and pulling up his single chair to beside the bed. “The Golden Pot, by Hoffman?”

“It'll serve,” Marius said, closing his eyes and resting back into his lumpy pillow.

“On Ascension Day, about three o'clock in the afternoon in Dresden, a young man dashed through the Schwarzthor, or Black Gate, and ran right into a basket of apples and cookies which an old and very ugly woman had set out for sale. The crash was... I don't know this word, Monsieur.”

Marius opened his eyes and squinted at the book.

“Prodigious,” he said. “It means...a...”

Breaking off, he turned away from Eponine and sneezed harshly.

Erhhh'tsghhttt!!!

“Bless, Monsieur,” she said. “Do you need my handkerchief?”

She extended a very dirty scrap of fabric.

“No, thank you,” Marius replied, reaching for his own from under his pillow and wiping his nose. “Pardon. Prodigious means very great or immense.”

“Yes,” Eponine said, returning to her reading. “The crash was prodigious; what wasn't squashed or broken was scattered, and hordes of street urchins delightedly divided the booty which this quick gentleman had provided for them.”

Marius closed his eyes again, keeping his handkerchief close at hand as Eponine read. Soon his head grew heavy with congestion and he began to cough again as the breathing through his nose became too restricted. Sputtering, he sat up and Eponine stopped reading to help him get upright. Sputtering and snuffling, he blew his nose between hacks and then proceeded to interrupt a series of coughs with another sneeze.

Nghht'tsghhtt!

“Bless!” Eponine said, surprised at the loud outburst. “You certainly are unwell, Monsieur.”

“I do beg your pardon, Mademoiselle,” he said, wiping his nose.

“You need some tonics to help you sleep,” she said. “Do you have money?”

“No, I don't need any,” Marius insisted, lying back down as he breathed noisily.

“There is one that always works for my father,” she said, shutting the book. “I'll get some.”

“No, don't waste money on me,” Marius said.

“I didn't say I was going to buy it with my money,” Eponine said. “I'll be back.”

She was up and out the door before Marius could shout after her. If the girl wanted to steal for him, he had no power to stop her now. Curling up again, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep more, grateful for the bit of comfort in his cold.

Edited January 27, 2013 by Dusty15

[Hissybella]

ooooh nice

[MusicaDiabolos]

LOVE the story, LOVE the movie! Just one thing - it's *Enjolras*, couple of mixed up letters there. I love your Marius, adjusting to his new life Something that never gets covered in the musical.

[SneezyHolmes]

simply divine~

[hails]

MARIUS. HOMNAHOMNA...

Thank you for completing my life~

..Bye.

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

Everything i could have possibly hoped for and amazing characterization win, not to mention excellently written.

[Meala]

You just made my night. I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR A LES MISERABLES FIC <3 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

FANGURLING TO THE MAX RIGHT NOW!! THANK YOU SO MUCH <3 CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT

[Salamander]

Oh, this is lovely. Poor Marius!

[count tiszula]

Another piece of brilliance..... I love a good sneezification of existing materiel, and for the first time ever you have sparked an interest in Hugo. Hmm, how odd that he humself was an Orleanist peer [and also picked the least successful of all French revolutions].

And ETA Hoffmann! another figure of mystery of whom I have never read anything [except could I have read the Nutcracker when tiny?]

Gaslamp?

[Dusty15]

Gas lamp? Maybe not the right phrase, and possible a bit early time-period wise to use. Should really be an oil lamp....oops.

I quite like Les Mis, the novel, but it is rather long-winded at parts and Marius is much more insufferable than his theatrical and cinematic counterparts.

[Always-a-Ginger]

Love this!

[Bluebird]

How in the world did I miss this when it was posted?! Oh my goodness, Dusty! This was absolutely wonderful in all ways imaginable!! So fluffy and well-written and hnng Marius I can only see Eddie Redmayne in my head and now I'm all sorts of giddy.

Thank you for this!! it's well appreciated, I can assure you that.