Archive of Our Own

By the time Enjolras got back to the hangar, Combeferre was dead. 

+

Javert was nothing like the previous Marshal of the Jaeger program. He was a bit too stern and completely opaque, and when he met Grantaire, still dripping from the April rain, he gave him a only a scowl and an impatient gesture inside. 

Grantaire followed him down the hall, past the warehouse, down the stairs, beyond the hangars, into the labs. The crew inside all looked up when they entered.

"Everyone, this is Grantaire. He'll be joining us on project Devilfish."

His head snapped around to look at Grantaire, and Grantaire stared back, wide-eyed and with wet bangs sticking to his face. Javert's look was decidedly unimpressed, and Grantaire couldn't blame him. "Welcome back to Hong Kong," Javert said curtly, and left.

As soon as he was gone, the room burst into life. The staff gave him warm smiles and pats on the back, and Éponine sprung on him and gave him a tight hug. They were pretty close, back when they worked together. Grantaire remembered sitting across from her at lunch, stealing fries off her plate when she wasn't looking and trying to catch a glimpse of Enjolras from across the mess hall.

"R!" She said, beaming. "How have you been? How was Vladivostok?"

Grantaire laughed. "I never saw the sun and got a nice sickly pallor from staring at computers all day. Just like what I'll be doing here!" He looked at the door that Javert left through. "What happened to Valjean?"

"Transferred to San Fransisco. He's still a consultant on Devilfish, though, if you need to talk to him."

Grantaire dropped his bag at his desk. "So, who's the poor asshole that's gonna be our guinea pig on this project?" 

"We have a pilot, but no takers for co-pilot yet." 

He scoffed as he consulted his notes. "Yeah, no fucking wonder. Does the pilot know what they're getting into?" 

"We've briefed him." 

There was a strange note in Éponine's voice that made Grantaire look at her, and she shifted uncomfortably. 

"Well? Do I get to meet him?" 

That was the moment the door opened, and Enjolras strolled in, red and gold and glorious. Grantaire felt himself suck in a breath, and felt himself gape, but didn't seem to be able to make himself actually say anything. Grantaire noted absently that he looked good, despite the trauma he had been through. Not much older, but then again, not a lot of time had passed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Éponine grimace and say some sort of introduction, but all he could hear in his ears was buzzing. 

Enjolras gave him a polite smile. "Nice to meet you, Grantaire." He held out his hand. 

Of course, what came out of his traitorous mouth was, "What's an angel like you doing in a place like this?" 

Behind Enjolras, he could see Éponine's hand going to her face, and Enjolras's smile gained a few shades of stiffness. He dropped his hand, and Éponine, thankfully, swooped in for some damage control.

"So, we're all going to go out for dinner tonight to get to know each other. I've made a reservation at Super Star!" 

Enjolras's face said everything he needed to about getting to know Grantaire better, but he nodded. 

+

Javert had offered Grantaire a bunker in the Shatterdome, but he turned it down. He knew it was kind of a stupid decision, but he couldn't stand the thought of being underground for that long. Even with the threat of sirens going off hanging heavy every night, he couldn't do it. Not after what happened in Vladivostok.

He got a little shoebox of a place in Mong Kok instead, and it would be generous to call it a studio apartment. It was really more like a small room with a stove and a toilet sectioned off. 

All his belongings fit into two sports bags though, so it wasn't too hard to actually move his entire life in. His most valuable belonging was his laptop--specifically, the notes on it--and he left that at the Shatterdome. 

Dinner earlier had been a tense affair--Grantaire sitting sandwiched between Éponine and Jehan, as if to keep him in check, and Enjolras sitting across from him, as far away as possible. Every time their eyes met, he had shifted uncomfortably and looked away. Grantaire had thought it was rather fascinating how skillfully Enjolras managed to avoid looking at or talking to him, so he had stood up several times to refill Enjolras's tea. At a round table of twelve people, it hadn't been an easy task--Grantaire got the corner of his jacket in the food more than once. What had started out as a stiff thanks from Enjolras had turned into a full-on glare by the end of the night, and about the fifth time Grantaire had tried to stand up, Éponine had yanked him back down, hissing that he was making a scene.

Grantaire didn't think he was making a scene. He was being polite. 

"You were making a scene," Éponine said now, from the poor excuse for a kitchen in his apartment. She was digging around for a lighter, he knew, and he also knew that there wasn't one the last time he looked. She managed to find one anyway. "Who the hell pours tea for someone across from them? Can't you just leave well enough alone?" 

Grantaire sat down on a rickety chair by the window, Éponine on the low bed next to it. She handed him the lighter and he lit a cigarette, pushed the window open. 

"I can't seem to help myself when it comes to him." 

Éponine sighed. "Don't get too attached. If we can't find a co-pilot, we might have to can the project." 

From where Grantaire was sitting, he couldn't see where the Shatterdome was, on Tsing Yi. All he could see were high-rises and neon lights. He was hoping that he'd be able to see a Jaeger, or at least the water.

Enjolras probably lived in the Shatterdome, which was a shame, because he seemed like the type who should have a view of the water. He hoped there was at least a window in his room.

"I'll do it," he said. 

Éponine stood up. Grantaire tapped his cigarette on his windowsill, watching the ashes fall and disappear into the sea of neon. He expected Éponine to leave, but she didn't. Just kept looking at him. 

"I'm not joking," he said, still looking outside. "I will. It's actually a great idea. Best I ever had, probably." 

Éponine sat back down. "Grantaire," she said, her voice shaking. "How can you say that?" 

"No, think about it. No one knows the repercussions better than we do. No one knows the risks. I'd argue that it's ethically unsound to have anyone but one of us take that kind of risk." 

"We can't spare you. We just got you, R!" 

Grantaire laughed. "You're kidding yourself if you think that I'm indispensable. I've only been on this project for a year. I'm not a lead. I'm not even particularly smart." 

"First of all, you're underestimating how hard it is to find a good engineer--" 

"And we don't have another volunteer, do we? Five years into the project and having it axed, just like that?" 

Éponine bit her lip. "I can't let you--" 

"You're not letting me do anything. I'm choosing to do this." 

She said nothing, and a few minutes later, she reached out for a cigarette, held it in her mouth. He lit it for her, and lit himself another, and they sat and listened to the traffic. 

+ 

The first round of trials wouldn't even begin for another month, probably closer to two, but Grantaire was still up to his ears in work. He had to get tested endlessly for pretty much everything in the book so they have a very clear picture of his baseline health.  He probably wasn't as healthy as he could be, but he was their only volunteer, so they would take what they got. 

He'd met Javert the very next morning to tell him of his decision, prepared with a long winded argument, but Javert had only nodded grimly and handed him the waiver. Grantaire didn't know why he was surprised--he was hardly the first person to volunteer himself for science, and this actually makes thing easier for everyone. After all, who better to write accurate reports than someone who knows exactly what they're looking for? 

"Clean bill," Éponine said. "Although you may want to cut down on alcohol. We're not really sure how it would affect your nervous system, after all." 

Grantaire was still reading the waiver when she sat down across from him. He'd known the consequences as well as anyone could--he had a hand in writing the waiver, even-- but reading the effects and thinking about it applied to him still gave him pause. 

"A couple of drinks can't possibly be worse for my nervous system than this is," he said, still running his fingers through the list of possible effects--neurological and psychological damage, temporary or permanent brain damage, death. 

Éponine's mouth was a tight line. "Let's not speed things along then, okay?" 

Grantaire laughed, and Éponine's stern look got even more grim, if possible. "What did Valjean think?" he asked. 

"Valjean thought the entire project was a bad idea to begin with." 

"He would, wouldn't he?" 

Éponine gave a sad smile. "He's like you, in that way." 

Grantaire returned her smile, and pressed his thumb on fingerprint reader of his tablet. He was about to go back to his desk when Enjolras walked in, paused, and hovered awkwardly by the doorway.

Éponine looked back and forth between them for a second, before she took the tablet and stood up. "Well, you two have to get to know each other.  Grantaire, behave," she said, and left. 

Grantaire had never seen someone look as uncomfortable as Enjolras, standing in front of him. He waved at the now vacated seat in front of him, and Enjolras sat down. 

"I just wanted to thank you for volunteering. I know it's not going to be... easy.  And this project was getting very close to being cancelled, so, thank-you." 

Grantaire waved it off. "It was at least half a year from being cancelled, but with me on, we can move forward a bit faster." 

Enjolras nodded stiffly. "I'm not an expert on what being a co-pilot entails, I've just been told that it's not an easy role to take." 

Grantaire started.  "You don't know? What did they tell you?" Enjolras hesitated, and Grantaire said again, "Tell me what you know about the project." 

"They didn't tell me much, to be honest. After... after Combeferre, I wasn't able to drift with another pilot, and that's when Mr. Valjean suggested that I volunteer for Devilfish. He was the head of the project at the time."

"Didn't you sign any waivers?" Grantaire put his hand to his chest, as if scandalized.  "Don't tell me you signed them without reading them! You're better than that!"

Enjolras bristled. "Of course I read them! But as far as I could tell, it was just a highly experimental project to allow pilots to co-pilot even if they're drift incompatible.  I'm not a specialist, a lot of the more technical terms just made no sense to me." 

"Thankfully, I am. That's the gist of it, anyway. Basically, we're developing a special Conn-Pon Headset that allows one Ranger be the main chair, while a secondary co-pilot--that's me-- take some of the mental strain of controlling a Jaeger. We would be drifting, but I would be deferring any kind of control to you.  I would basically be an... Ancillary to you." 

Enjolras considered this. "Aren't there any... complications?" 

Grantaire smiled. "Well. Don't forget that even though I'm just an ancillary, we're still drifting. I'll be in your head, fucking around in all your memories." 

Enjolras's head snapped up. 

"I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but you already signed the waiver. I can probably swing something if you really want out, but..." 

"What about yours? Your memories?" 

Grantaire frowned. "You won't see them. As far as we're both concerned, I'm just going to be an extension of you while we're in the Jaeger." 

"Won't that be... confusing? For you?" 

Grantaire laughed. This was what he was concerned with? "Maybe a little, but that's why I had to sign a 10-page waiver. It shouldn't be a big problem, and there are worse people to be than you for a couple of hours." 

Now Enjolras looked uncomfortable. He shifted a bit and nodded, as if he didn't know what else to do, and Grantaire took pity on him. He stood up.

"Don't worry about it, it shouldn't be anything I can't handle. If you don't mind, I actually am still a tech so I have work to do, but I'll see you around."

+

He spotted Enjolras from across the mess hall a few days later, sitting with Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta. They perked up, and Joly waved him over.

"Grantaire!" He said. "We heard you were back! Javert must be hiding you away in that secret basement lab of his."

"Yeah, yeah," Grantaire said. "I just got in a few days ago."

Enjolras's gaze darted between them. "Do you know each other?"

Bossuet nodded while the other two smiled. They always functioned perfectly like this, not exactly finishing each other's sentences, but still working together like clockwork. They never interrupted each other or contradicted one another. It always unnerved him, the way drift compatible Rangers did that. "Yeah, R was the lead engineer on Rebel Six. We probably gave him way too many sleepless nights, and not in a fun way."

Grantaire laughed. "What are you guys talking about? I wasn't the lead, I was just a guy with a wrench."

Joly frowned. "Don't sell yourself short. You were second probably only to Valjean. Before you went to Vladivostok, anyway."

Enjolras watched this exchange with a contemplating eye. "How come I've never met you before?"

Grantaire shrugged. "I was an intern when you were a Ranger, and I only worked on Rebel Six. I think at the time, Monteparsse was responsible for your Jaeger. I just followed Valjean around, for the most part."

Bossuet laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "He really isn't giving himself enough credit. He really was a blessing to have on our team, we don't know what we would've done without him. I was going to ask to have him transferred back onto our team, but Éponine would probably fight me." 

Grantaire just shook his head and stole a fry from Bossuet's plate, deftly dodging the smack aimed at his direction. Enjolras was eating, but his face was grim and serious and slightly disapproving, like he was watching several obnioxus children at play. "Can you really be a co-pilot then? Don't they need you?" 

This time, Grantaire took a drink from Bossuet's cup of tea. "Ah," he said, wiping his mouth. "Don't you worry your gorgeous head about that, Apollo. I'll be on double duty. With my workload shuffled around, of course, but they need a co-pilot a lot more than they need another engineer." 

Enjolras just blinked. He mouthed the word "Apollo" and Grantaire cringed. He hadn't meant to let that slip, but around the table, the other three Rangers just burst out into uproarious laughter. 

"Your face, Enjolras" Joly said. "That was wonderful." 

"He has always called you that, our Grantaire, 'A god among men,'" Musichetta quoted, "'All that perfection can't be real. All that body, makes me wanna party."'

Bossuet was cackling and pounding Grantaire's back, while Grantaire buried his face in his hands. He decided to just roll with it, as uncomfortable as this must be making Enjolras. He looked up to see Enjolras staring at him with horror on his face, and then he just couldn't help himself. "Hey, your face makes me want to party, too," said he, and then winked at him. 

That was the last straw for Enjolras, as he stood up, abandoning his food, and left the canteen. Grantaire grimaced, but Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta were still laughing around him, and he just figured that he would have to apologize later. 

+

Later never came, as Éponine immediately called him into her office after lunch and handed him an intense workout regiment, to be overseen by herself and Enjolras.

Enjolras had apparently kept in great shape even after he retired as a Ranger, which was just like him, really.  Grantaire, as someone who stared at computer screens all day, had some catching up to do.

Between the hellishly intense regiment that he had to stick to with military precision, his regular workload, and the fact that all alcohol was banned from his diet, Grantaire didn't have much of an opportunity, or desire, to grovel at Enjolras's feet. 

Enjolras, for his own part, didn't check in on him much--probably still embarrassed and furious with him, which Grantaire couldn't exactly blame him for--which left Éponine to be the one for Grantaire to hand in his progress reports to.  Which he usually chose to do while lying on the floor and swearing at the ceiling.

Occasionally, Javert himself would come in and stare down his nose at Grantaire, lying on the floor in a pathetic heap, before spinning on his heels and marching out. 

The sirens had gone off only once during that time, in the middle of the night, when Grantaire was at home. He had sat up straight, looked out the window, checked his phone, and went back to bed. He had always been a bit fatalistic, and he firmly believed that if he was going to be killed in a Kaiju attack, he had done all he can to help with the cause. 

He was completely fine, of course, because the Kaiju had come out somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Rebel Six had taken care of it, and Grantaire had felt a swell of pride for the Rangers he used to work so closely with. 

"Good," said Éponine, about a month and a half into their regiment, with a hand braced on the front of his treadmill. "You've made some pretty impressive progress in a short amount of time."

Grantaire slowed to a walk and tipped over onto the ground, yanking off some of the sensor pads. Most of them still stuck to him, probably making him look like the most worthless cyborg ever.  "I regret everything," he said.

She just gave him a patronizing look and patted his head with the tip of her shoe. "Well, you'll be regretting it a lot more when we actually start initial trials."

"Don't remind me," Grantaire told the floor. "How's Enjolras doing? Surviving without me?"

Éponine laughed. "Better than you are. I'm starting to get the feeling that you would survive better without you."

Grantaire didn't say anything, and Éponine took pity on him. "We're going out for dinner, she said. There's a new Korean place in Causeway Bay that we want to try. Are you coming?"

He shook his head, which had the side effect of scraping his sweaty forehead on the carpet. As much as he wanted to see Enjolras, he was pretty sure the other didn't want to see him. The longer he went without apologizing, the weirder and more awkward it seemed to be to bring it up again.  That, coupled with the fact that facing him would mean that he would have to contemplate the fact that Enjolras was better without him in his life-- He got up off the ground by executing one of the most perfect push-ups that ever existed.

"Nah, I'm going out. Have fun."

Éponine glowered at him. "One drink, okay?"

Grantaire waved her off and head off to the showers. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't always drink until he blacked out, nor did he want keep himself constantly swimming in a state of inebriation. However, once in a while, he did appreciate a good buzz, and he had been sober for long enough to give himself a treat.

He made it to Lan Kwai Fong just as it was getting busy, and was just settling into a bar with a relatively quiet patio when he saw a familiar figure in the distance, coming up the steps.

He took a swig of his beer, watching the figure and trying to decide if he should say something. In hindsight, Éponine never actually said who was going to the barbecue, he just didn't expect Enjolras to be the type of guy to frequent Lan Kwai Fong. 

He was about to just let it go and pretend he didn't see when Enjolras stopped in front of him, just on the threshold of the patio. They looked at each other for a few awkward moments, and Grantaire finally said, "didn't know you were this kind of person," in broken Cantonese.

"I'm usually not," Enjolras replied, in perfect Cantonese, because of fucking course. Grantaire had to laugh.

"So, what brings you here?"

"You weren't going to dinner, and initial trials are starting next week, and.... " he stepped over the low fence and pulled up a chair. "I don't know, I guess I feel that if we're drifting, then we should be more than strangers."

"The whole point of this project is that you could be strangers and still drift with them," said Grantaire, not putting down his glass.  "We aren't really drifting. But," he added, after a pause, "Starting next week, you definitely won't be a stranger to me."

Enjolras shifted.  "I guess not," he said. Grantaire beamed at him and winked over the top of his glass, and Enjolras shifted again. "I feel like... Sometimes you're setting out to make me uncomfortable."

Was he that transparent? "Maybe," he said.

"Why?"

He shrugged. Enjolras sighed, tried again. "Tell me one thing about yourself. Just one."

Grantaire smiled. "I was born in Hong Kong. Did you know that?" He held his hands out and did jazz hands, for effect.

Enjolras blinked. "But you don't speak Chinese."

"Hey, rude. Didn't you hear me speak it?" He laughed at Enjolras's startled look, as if he was actually afraid of offending Grantaire. "I kid. No, I don't speak it. But I grew up here, and I was here when they demolished Disneyland to expand the Shatterdome."

He leaned back, took a sip of his beer. "Which is cooler to a kid? Disneyland or giant robots? I never did decide."

Enjolras face went through a series of expressions and landed on constipated. Grantaire grinned and raised his glass to him.

"To the Jaeger program," he said, and took a drink.