Chapter Text
Things aren't perfect after they hear Fantine's song, but there is a shift in attitude, a tempo changed for the fast instead of the frantic. Enjolras mixes Cosette's new songs, and somehow he finds the time to come up with at least two versions of each one. Cosette listens to what's on offer, then makes her own suggestions. Most of the time, each version of the song is brilliant--the man has a gift, it isn't fair how gifted he is and how little the world knows of him--and Cosette tells him to file a few songs away for a remix album. They produce music, and they don't kiss the people they want to kiss, and that has to be fine until the concert is over.
Other things have to be fine, too. Cosette overhears Bossuet and Joly quietly planning an intervention for Grantaire as soon as the concert furor dies down, and she shakes with guilt, knowing that she is the reason that they're putting it off. But they know Grantaire better than she does, and if they think it can wait a few more days, she has to defer to their judgment. There isn't time for Cosette to do more than notice the shadows under Grantaire's eyes, deep and dark like bruises. She sees through a haze of countermelody, has to shut her eyes so that she can hear better. His pain, all of their pain, is so loud.
And then miraculously, in the middle of the day on Thursday, Cosette and Enjolras have produced a complete album.
"Unless you have something else for me," Enjolras says, but Cosette interrupts him by squealing, seizing his hands, and jumping up and down.
"It's done! Oh my God, I have a second album! It's done and it's amazing and thank you so much, oh my God!" This is what the poets were talking about, Cosette thinks, the spontaneous outpouring of joy. There's the initial rush when the art passes through you, and then there's the sensation of being complete, of having shaped your art into the form it was always meant to possess.
"Tell the viewers at home how it feels," Courfeyrac says. He's holding his cell phone, grinning. "A local TV station hinted that it was interested in this footage, so make it good."
Ordinarily, Cosette would care about her unkempt hair and days-old makeup, but ordinary Cosette would still be at home, suffering writer's block and trying not to think of Justice Records. Enjolras, on the other hand, looks as perfect as always through some mysterious trick of genetics.
Cosette flashes a smile she's sure must look as crazed as it does thrilled. "We're so ready for the concert on Saturday! We invite everyone to strike a blow for creative freedom and either attend the concert or watch the livestream! I know I'm biased, but this album is so, so good."
The album is good. Most of it is electronica-influenced, but there are a few sparer songs where the guitar and piano lines peek through; the influence of her loved ones, Fantine and Jean Valjean and Marius and Eponine. The album is done, and Cosette has to perform select songs tomorrow. The enormity of the task should crush her, but the word done keeps floating to the surface of her thoughts, and that alone is enough to buoy her spirits.
Courfeyrac is mouthing something while Cosette speaks. She finally deciphers it and yells it so loud Enjolras actually starts in his seat: "I want to see you there, even if you just came to say hello!"
"Perfect," Courfeyrac says, already rewatching the footage on his phone. "Great soundbite. You look adorable with your braids all mussed like that. I can definitely get you on the five o'clock news tomorrow." He makes a face in response to Enjolras', which looks as though someone just waved sour milk under his nose. "Don't look at me like that, Enjolras. Just because I can play the political game doesn't mean I don't care about the artistry, or the cause."
"No one is doubting you care," Cosette says, still bouncing slightly back and forth on her heels. God. No matter what happens, she knows she can write music again, and that's worth everything in the world. She holds out her hand, because of course Enjolras has been working on the computer this whole time, loading the album on thumb drives to send to their backing band. Everyone will get copies via Soundcloud. It's all so last minute. This kind of thing would never fly at Justice Records, and Cosette loves it.
She bounds in the direction of the stairs, leaving Courfeyrac and Enjolras to chat. On the way down, she passes Combeferre. He reads the excitement on her face and says, "Congratulations." To his credit, he remains unruffled by the great smacking kiss Cosette plants on his cheek.
"It's finished!" Cosette cries, and starts tossing out thumb drives like she's Miss America throwing candy from a parade float. "Rehearsal tomorrow! Rehearsal forever!"
Gavroche is the first to hug her, surprising them all, including himself. "You're nice," he mutters, going brick red. "My sister thinks so, too, even if she won't say it. Bye."
Eponine doesn't overhear, engaged in quiet conversation with Marius by the keyboard. They look to be in their own world: Marius's hand on Eponine's shoulder, a warm smile on Eponine's face, so unlike her usual guarded look. Cosette wavers at the bottom of the staircase, uncertain. Perhaps those two have made up their differences, but will it ever work between the three of them?
The still moment between them dissolves as more people rush toward Cosette on the stairs, shouting their glee. Cosette keeps smiling and throwing thumb drives on autopilot, but she feels the moment Eponine and Marius turn their attention toward her. It's the same look in their eyes, tender and mild as a Christmas song, perhaps the start of what they've been searching for all along.
*
Cosette runs home on Friday, or perhaps she flies, or--she's not entirely sure how she gets home, just that she feels as though she could take wing. They completed the album in time! The public is on their side! Now the concert seems less a fundraising event and more like a celebration. Surely, surely everything will turn out fine.
She unlocks the door, pushing sweaty strands of hair out of her face, and finds her father in the living room watching the evening news. Cosette catches a glimpse of her own face on the screen and smiles. Courfeyrac got them on the news after all.
"By the way, you're invited to the concert tomorrow!" Cosette says gaily, throwing her arms around her father's neck. There is nothing like the high of finishing an album; she'd almost forgotten. "I know you don't like being onstage, but you're welcome to play. Marius and Eponine are beside themselves with nerves, so you might need to. It's my concert, but I don't feel nervous at all. Is that strange? Am I going crazy?"
"Too much coffee, I think," Jean Valjean says, kissing her cheek. "I was just watching your interview, but I think they've wrapped things up." He holds up the remote control, about to turn the television off, when Javert's face fills the screen.
Cosette wrinkles her nose. "Ugh. I can't wait to see him tomorrow when we write a check for all of that money. Then I can't wait to never see him again."
"We were startled to hear this accusation from Javert, a member of the legal team at Justice Records," the news anchor says. The screen changes to a quotation. "'I have reason to believe that Les Amis are consorting with another notorious criminal in the music world. I refer to the lead guitarist of the Jailbirds, a man best known as Johnny Rocker.' When pressed for further details, Javert said that he had no comment."
Her father drops the remote control.
"What's wrong?" Alarm doesn't creep into Cosette's voice: it rushes in, sirens wailing. Her father is so pale he looks gray. She reaches into her pocket for her phone. "I'll call a doctor! Should I call an ambulance? Would that be better?"
"No," Jean Valjean says. He leans forward, resting his forehead on his cupped hands. "It's quite a long story, Cosette. I would--after the past few weeks, I would rather not."
When Cosette presses the home button on her phone, the screen lights up, revealing her mother's song still on pause. Quietly, she asks, "Remember what happened the last time you kept secrets?"
Jean Valjean sighs as though some great force has knocked the last breath of air from his lungs. The lines on his face stand out in sharp shadows of exhaustion, and Cosette has to push down her guilt. There are no more secrets between them but this, the last obstacle to overcome before they can go back to being a little girl and her father, hand-in-hand. Or… whatever the adult version of that might be.
"Some water, please. Just give me a moment."
Cosette fetches the water, pouring a glass for herself as well, and settles down beside her father on the couch. His color is better, better still after he takes a generous gulp of water. Cosette waits him out, her mother's song running through her head. Strange to have someone else's words always on the brain when finishing her own album, but it worked--the Lovely Ladies pulse in the bassline of "Pretty Thing," speak in "I Need Your Love" and "Something Like a Hero." Her songs are better for her mother's influence.
"I was Johnny Rocker," Jean Valjean says at last, and Cosette almost chokes on her water.
Everyone with even a passing interest in rock and roll has heard of Johnny Rocker and the Jailbirds. They're a huge part of music history, made all the more exciting by the controversy surrounding their concert bootlegs--and their frontman's well-known struggles with substance abuse and subsequent disappearance from the public eye. Cosette has never watched any of the documentaries out of respect for her father, who leaves the room whenever people on television are drunk or using drugs. But she's read books and countless articles, and suddenly, so many things have fallen into place.
"The broken nose. The broken concert," Cosette says, touching her father's well-loved face, which looks nothing like young Johnny Rocker's face at all. It's the face of a man who has seen too much of the world's hurt; now, she sees it's the face of a man who's also caused too much of the world's hurt, and has dedicated his life to eradicating some small measure of others' sorrow.
Jean Valjean closes his eyes in acknowledgment. "I wanted to play that show with a broken nose still trailing blood and whiskey. My bandmates, my manager, they were all big drinkers themselves. The only reason they saved me was because they wanted to keep the band together, keep playing, keep making money, but they still saved me."
She leans in toward her father, touching her forehead to his. Johnny Rocker, face bloodied after a bar fight, tried to play a concert. His bandmates had to wrestle him off the stage and still couldn't avoid police involvement. Johnny Rocker in handcuffs, blood-streaked teeth bared to the paparazzi, is a photograph so iconic that a punk band recreated it for a single cover a few years ago, to great controversy. And that broken man was her father, her kind, gentle father.
"But while I was in rehab, getting clean for the first time since I was twelve, Javert saw the opportunity to prosecute us for allowing fans to bootleg our shows and trade them with each other," Jean Valjean continues. He turns away, breaking contact. "We lost so much money. The band broke up anyway. I still owe some fines, technically, but I hid from the authorities. I put any money I make in royalties to better use. Charity. Raising you. I owe those record companies nothing."
"Of course not," Cosette says, fierce. "Let me guess, they encouraged your rebel image." Her mother, now her father, how dare they.
"To a point. I'd come in with it. You must understand, my sweet girl, I'd been drinking for a long, long time. My father drank. My grandfather drank. I would have needed rehab regardless of whether the public turned its eye on me." Her father's smile is so pained it can scarcely be called one at all. He still won't look at her, as though she could ever be ashamed of him. "I went through rehab four times before it finally took. With the band dissolved and drinking changing my appearance so completely, I found a little peace working as a counselor. Music had soured for me. Helping people, people whose stories I knew, was what mattered to me."
Cosette inches closer and lays her head on her father's shoulder.
"When your mother came in for rehab, she was so lost. Very few people know that Jean Valjean was once Johnny Rocker, but the facility director knew. She assigned me to your mother. It was--painful, knowing almost exactly where Fantine was coming from. But I could help her because I know what it's like to have your excesses, your disease, photographed for the tabloids' entertainment. I told her who I was, and she never told a soul."
Jean Valjean bows his head. This time, at least, he doesn't pull away.
"Because music helped her, we would play a little together every day. We would sing old songs, or made up songs. Never any songs we had released. We never wrote any new songs together, but she did tell me about the song she was writing for you. I think that somehow she knew that she wasn't long for the world, that the addiction would come screaming back after rehab. I helped her record the song, and she helped me love music again. Music should always be like that, played for the sheer love of it." Jean Valjean smiles at Cosette through the tears in his eyes. "I already owed your mother a debt I could never repay, and then she mailed me the CD along with your address and told me to find you if anything ever happened to her. She gave me a daughter. I had no one, and then I had you."
Cosette is crying again. How many tears shed in the past few weeks, in the past few months? These tears feel cool and clean, like rain over a freshly turned garden. There's nothing growing in the soil yet, but the rain brings a promise of green. "You finally told me the truth," she says. The blood is whirling in her brain, through every part of her body. "I--I'm happy you did. I'm not angry. I just, I need to go back to the studio." She laughs, wiping away the tears. "I just came back to get some things. Will you be all right?"
"I'll be at the concert tomorrow," her father says, soft. "Don't worry about me." And then he lets her go, lets her find her own way at last.
*
Cosette returns to the ABC after another run to clear her head. Her heart feels like it's breaking, but in a clean way. She keeps coming back to the idea of a garden as her feet pound the pavement. Her next album will have to be about growing instead of surviving, new loves and new stages of being. God. Her next album.
Once inside, she passes Enjolras in quiet, tense-looking conversation with Combeferre, but they wave her on before she can say hello. That's fine--she's here for Eponine and Marius, to lay their issues to rest, one way or another. This is the plan she built on the run back, sweat trickling down her back in the heat of summer. The plan is that there is no plan, no set of instructions to follow. Emotions don't work like that. Cosette just has to ask for an answer, a plea she sang in one of the songs on the album. I need your love, I need your time.
Her father told her the truth, the last of the truth. Her album is finished. Cosette can do anything, including fix her love life.
"Come with me," Cosette says to Eponine and Marius, who are sitting by the keyboard again, laughing like old friends. Again, she has the peculiar flash of emotion that means hurt but not hurt; it's lovely, seeing her two favorite people get along, but painful, because everything is so fragile that a single push could send it tumbling to pieces.
But push it Cosette will. She has to know if this thing between them is strong enough.
Eponine gives her a strange look. "You got our text message?"
"What?" Cosette's phone beeped in the middle of her run, but she didn't pull it out to look, too busy building her inner reserves of courage for this conversation. She looks at her phone now, bearing a text from Marius that reads: hey we just finished ponine's 1st single come listen. "Oh," she says, flushing. "Sorry. Of course I want to hear the single."
Cosette follows them into the studio, telling herself that it's not avoidance if it's Eponine, who shares so few pieces of herself, letting her listen to her new song. The room with its myriad of computer screens and sound equipment has become familiar, but it feels entirely different with just the three of them inside, no Enjolras to look over their shoulders.
"We will die if we ruin this equipment," Eponine says, as if reading Cosette's mind. She taps Marius's hand as he reaches for a knob. "Enjolras is worried because R isn't here. Not that he's willing to talk about him with me. I have to believe those two idiots can figure it out." She smiles at that, a small, secretive smile that she looks up to share with Cosette and Marius.
Marius leans over and whispers, "I think she means us, too." His breath is warm against Cosette's ear.
"But I haven't done enough wooing," Cosette says, because her mouth is racing far ahead of her brain. "Maybe Marius has, I don't know, but--"
"Just listen to the song. I listened to every lovelorn lyric you wrote about us." Irritation makes Eponine sound the same as she always does when talking to Cosette; paradoxically, it makes Cosette feel better.
Eponine presses play and the song that follows is nothing short of charming, which is never a word Cosette has associated with Eponine's music before. Smoky, sultry, lovelorn, jazzy--if asked, Cosette would name all of those as descriptors. This song starts off with a tinkling crash of percussion ("Enjolras," Eponine says by way of explanation), and then launches into the clever wordplay Cosette has always admired in Eponine's work. The internal rhyme alone in the nickel dropped when I was on my way beyond the rubicon is astonishing.
Cosette meant what she said, though. She's given longing glances to Eponine, and she's watched Marius talk to Eponine, but this past week, she's been too busy for wooing. It's understandable, it's perfectly understandable, but is it right for things to just fall into place like this without some final gesture on her part? She thought things were going somewhere after the "Land" performance, but then Eponine backed away. Over the speakers, Eponine's voice asks, Ooh, after all the folderol and hauling over coals stops, what can I do?
The little song story unfolds in Cosette's ears. The narrator can't take a good day without a bad one, don't feel just to smile until I've had one, and it's all Eponine, her cynicism and her guarded nature and her fierce dignity. Their shared past is lost somewhere to Cosette's memory, but she knows Eponine's past is not a happy one. All of them have survived more than their fair share of sorrow, and yet they've all made lives for themselves, turned pain and pleasure into music. I don't want a home, I'd ruin that, Eponine sings on the single, but Cosette feels at home in the studio, Marius and Eponine on either side. She takes both of their hands, giving them a firm squeeze.
I got a plan and a demand and it just began, and if you're right, you'll agree, says the track, and Cosette feels the smile grow and grow in her chest until it rises to her face. Here it's coming, a better version of me. The Eponine in the studio with them repeats the declaration twice more, singing softly along with the track until it twirls its way to a merry-go-round stop.
"That was beautiful," Marius says at the same time Cosette says, "You don't have to change." They smile at each other, and Cosette giggles, foolishly fond. Marius is so sweet.
Eponine tilts her head, watching the two of them. "I did have to change," she says. Her smile is more visible in the dark of her eyes than the curl of her lips. "I had to become the kind of person who would date someone instead of just pine for them from afar, never getting to know them." Marius opens his mouth as if to protest, but she raises a hand. "I had to write new music instead of the same old themes I've been working and reworking to death."
"But you can write music," Marius says, shy. "Both of you, you have no idea--I can't believe you associate with me, sometimes."
"Your lyrics will always be better than mine, Eponine," Cosette says, wrapping her fingers more firmly through theirs. "And you're a great cover artist, Marius, that's why you have thousands of middle-aged fans in the first place."
Eponine coughs out something that sounds like damning with faint praise.
"I'll admit I'm more comfortable with changing up my sound," Cosette continues, making a face at her. Marius strokes his thumb over Cosette's, telling her that he knows what she meant.
"You're more comfortable with changing up everything," Eponine says, and that's when she kisses Cosette, right there over the sound board.
Cosette can't move for a moment, fearful that this is all some sort of fever dream brought on by too much work. Eponine's lips are warm but the press of them is uncertain, hesitant. Marius makes a small sound and lets go of Cosette's hand to wrap his arm around her waist. That's what convinces Cosette this is real at last, and she leans in, tongue sliding into Eponine's mouth, which is also warm, and comfortable, and somehow familiar. Cosette tugs Marius closer, so he can put an arm around Eponine as well, and the three of them trade kisses for a few minutes. It's not Cosette in the middle anymore, or Marius, but just the three of them, an equilateral triangle at last.
"When did it change?" Cosette asks at last, breaking the cycle.
Eponine snorts. "That ridiculously sexy cover of 'Land,' of course. Why do you think it scared me so badly? We were all so in sync, and it was all coming together so perfectly, so I had to go and ruin it."
"You didn't," Marius says, voice uncharacteristically firm. "You could never. You just needed more time."
"More time to lead you on, I think." Eponine squirms a little. "I don't know if I could have said anything if you hadn't listened to the song."
"Solving disagreements through music is a time-honored tradition," Cosette says. "Also having disagreements. Let's not turn into Fleetwood Mac."
"Oh, no, I would give my left arm to write 'Landslide,'" Eponine disagrees immediately. "And I don't even like the rest of their music."
"My father--" Cosette starts, and then she realizes, They don't know. Her voice falters and her eyes fill with tears. "There's something I have to tell you," she manages to get out despite the tightness in her throat.
She pours the whole long story into their listening silence. Neither Eponine nor Marius make a sound, though they both must have heard of Johnny Rocker. All they do is stroke her hair and brush away her tears, hold her hands and kiss her salt-stained cheeks. Somehow, without her having to say anything, they know to let her finish telling the story of Jean Valjean, who is no longer Johnny Rocker. Another day, perhaps, they can talk about her father's incredible musicianship, his amazing recovery. An addict is never truly cured, she can hear her father saying years ago, when she was wondering why one of her favorite NA members left the group. An addict has to make the same choice every day. Some days, the choice is harder.
Her. He's been choosing her for years, and she never knew until now. When she's done, Cosette rains kisses down on Marius and Eponine, and all she can say is, "Thank you."
There's the concert tomorrow, but sleep can wait.
*
"There are people camped out on the sidewalks chanting Free Cosette," Joly says, looking unperturbed to find Cosette curled up with Eponine and Marius. Given his own relationship with Bossuet and Musichetta, that's no surprise. "Also, well, we sort of can't find Grantaire, but since his last text to Bossuet and me was at 2 AM instead of 5 AM, we have reason to believe he'll be rested enough to come play."
In quick succession, Cosette finds out that news of the concert has gone viral, donations are flooding in at a rate that just about guarantees they'll have enough money by the end of the concert, and that sleeping on the floor on the night before a concert is extremely ill-advised. She's going to have a stiff neck for days.
"I know some yoga stretches," Joly says, seeing her rubbing her neck. "Combeferre made breakfast. Well, Bossuet broke some eggs in the carton and then Combeferre made breakfast out of what could be salvaged. I made enough energy smoothie to power everyone through the concert, I hope."
"Combeferre was in my kitchen," Eponine says, voice growing more deadly and quiet with every word. At that point, Joly flees down the stairs for the questionable safety of Bossuet's arms. (Bossuet would do everything in his power for Joly, of course, but Bossuet has knocked Joly into heavy equipment before in similar situations.
"I can rub both of your necks," Marius offers, restoring peace to the recording room again. "And maybe you could rub mine. Why didn't we sleep in Eponine's room?"
"Because Gavroche should probably find out some other way," Eponine says with a sigh. "I'll go talk to him. And shower. Make sure that my kitchen is all right, okay?"
"Mm," Cosette says, because Marius is massaging her neck as promised and she is now incapable of speech. Guitarist's hands. And Eponine has pianist's hands, and Cosette herself can play both instruments, and they are going to have the best post-concert celebration in the world. As long as Grantaire makes it in and Les Amis aren't worrying about him all night, but Joly said he would come in. Things will be okay.
After breakfast, Cosette is brave enough to take a glimpse outside. There's a ridiculously long line of people trailing from the club doors and down the sidewalk. She makes an undignified noise (a squeak, to be honest) and turns away from the door. She needs to rehearse with the band, she needs to hear a million updates from Courfeyrac, she needs to check on Gavroche and Eponine, and she needs to not think about how thousands or possibly millions of people are going to be watching her in just a few hours.
"Steady," Combeferre says, appearing out of nowhere with a full glass of water. He presses it into her hands with a kind smile. Cosette squares her shoulders and nods before she takes a sip. He's right. She has to be steady for this concert to go off.
Hours pass in a blur of rehearsal and donations flooding in and cheers from the crowd outside. Gavroche spends most of the day trying to con the people in line out of their cash, so Cosette assumes his discussion with Eponine went fine. Eponine keeps smiling at both of them over the keyboard, and Marius keeps smiling at both of them over his guitar, and Cosette just keeps smiling until Enjolras favors the three of them with one of his glares and tells them they better not be distracted tonight.
They're anything but distracted, though. The band sounds so good that Cosette's pulse keeps fluttering, halfway between the joy of music and the terror that they'll never have a good performance if the rehearsal isn't an utter disaster.
And then it is tonight, the setting sun throwing brilliant colors across the horizon. Mercifully, a breeze picks up, though Cosette can still taste the heat as she opens the back door for her father's arrival. "Good night for a show," is all Jean Valjean says before he takes a seat of honor.
(None of the Amis say anything to her father, though by now they've all heard about who he used to be. Cosette will always love them for that.)
Grantaire stumbles in at the last possible second, when Bossuet has convinced himself he's blown out the sound system again and Enjolras looks to be on the verge of ripping all his glorious hair out. Marius, looking faintly green, has already promised that he can do an acoustic opening set with no microphones or speakers.
"And if he forgets the words, I'll take over," Grantaire offers, draping an arm around Marius. He looks underslept, as usual, but he smells like soap rather than alcohol. Cosette makes a face when he pinches her cheek. "Didn't think I would miss your show, did you?"
Enjolras says nothing, deliberately not looking up from the crisscrossing wires of their sound system. Grantaire's smile fades when Enjolras won't even look at him, but all he does is mutter something and retreat to tune his bass guitar. Cosette tries to ask him if he's all right, or at least thank him, but he waves her off. "Go kiss Marius. He needs the encouragement more than I do right now."
Bossuet, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras finally repair the sound system and set everything up for the live broadcast. They even manage to get a sign to flash the amount of money they've raised every five minutes or so. They're fifteen minutes late opening the doors for the crowd, but that's standard for concerts, in Cosette's experience.
In her experience. God, she's going to get to perform again. The club is packed with a ridiculous amount of people, though she knows Combeferre kept careful count at the door, knowing Javert would seize the opportunity if they violated the fire code. There are at least a hundred people on the sidewalk outside. Horns honk and cameras flash like the ABC is a celebrity nightclub. God, she's going to perform for an audience of millions, counting all the people watching the livestream. Cosette can't keep the grin off her face, and she cheers as loud as the crowd when the lights dim, signaling the show's start.
"Welcome," Enjolras says into the mic, and a hush falls over the crowd. He isn't even dressed up for the occasion, but his good looks and perfect hair remain unmarred by sleepless nights and a diet consisting mostly of coffee. "Today, all of you are gathered in support of artists' rights. I thank you for your support as we have fought for Cosette--" the crowd roars at her name, and Cosette shivers next to her father and her friends backstage-- "and other artists in similar circumstances. This event is proof that artistry is not dependent upon the recording industry!" He raises a fist to punctuate his point. "This event is proof that creativity can triumph over capitalism!" The cheering is deafening at this point, and Cosette's heart pounds. "This event, my friends, is proof that the people will be heard!"
Enjolras looks out into the crowd as though making eye contact with every single person, thanking them personally for their devotion to the cause. Cosette isn't entirely certain who's on live feed duty at the moment, but the projector screen cuts away from Enjolras's face to the cheering crowd. Enjolras gives a final, satisfied nod and then leaves the stage, making way for Marius to perform the first opening act.
Cosette clutches her father's hand, both of them tucked safely out of sight, and listens to Marius do a lovely, charming cover of Regina Spektor's "Better." He doesn't look nervous in the slightest, despite the joyful shouts of recognition from the crowd. Marius actually smiles under the stage lights, a real smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "Thank you," is all he says when he finishes the song. He follows with a cover of "Something" that brings tears to Cosette's eyes, because Marius doesn't even hide a little that it's for her and Eponine.
"This is the boy you're dating?" her father asks. "He's not butchering the song."
For Jean Valjean, "not butchering" a George Harrison number is one of the highest compliments he can possibly give. Cosette preens a little bit, and preens still more when it's Eponine's turn to play a set, turning on the full power of her voice for a properly sized audience at last. The crowd eats it up, as it always does whenever Eponine gets behind a piano, her voice prowling across the stage like a panther. Jean Valjean doesn't say anything at all for Eponine's set, just leans back with his eyes closed and his head nodding along to the music, also a high compliment. Her father will still need more than a breathless, five-second introduction before a performance, but at least he can see their talents on display.
Then it's time for Cosette to go onstage.
*
Cosette leaves her father's comforting embrace and takes the stage, beaming at her audience. She's not even sure where to look for the live feed--by the time they realized they had never practiced, it was far too late to worry about--so she focuses on connecting with the crowd before her. Since they're all chanting Free Co-SETTE! Free Co-SETTE! it doesn't feel terribly difficult.
"Thank you all for coming out tonight, or staying in with your computers!" she shouts. The audience is still chanting. "DJ Enjolras and I have put together an awesome show for you to thank you for your support!" Here she has to pause, because the crowd loses its collective mind when Enjolras returns to the stage. "I promise not to talk too much, so let's bring on the music!"
Everyone in the club roars in response, and roars still louder when Cosette and Enjolras open with "Hello." Cosette bounces around stage, still smiling and waving, and it's better than their first performance, the frantic improvisation in the club. She'll never be a performer like Eponine or Grantaire, who consider it an artistic challenge to play songs on the fly. Cosette likes a little more preparation in her sets. She and Enjolras are well-matched in that regard, and they trade pleased smiles throughout the song.
They follow up "Hello" with "Lights," because according to Courfeyrac, it's such a popular song that people are requesting it on mainstream radio stations. Singing it takes Cosette back to the night she composed it. When she closes her eyes, she can see the lights of distant houses; when she opens them, it's the brilliant lights of the stage, so bright she can hardly see the teeming crowd beyond them. There are more people in the ABC than she's ever seen. Most of the staff is working on the show itself or at the bar, not as bouncers, and Cosette bites her lower lip, nerves showing on her face for a moment. They're in trouble if things go wrong.
Every song in Cosette's set segues perfectly into the next one. No voices crack. No notes are dropped. Eponine rejoins them for "Pretty Thing," waving to the crowd and pecking Marius on the cheek as she walks up to her keyboard, and Cosette's heart is so full that she's certain everyone watching can see it on her sleeve.
Then, during the transition between "Pretty Thing" and "Guns and Horses," Enjolras makes a few choice comments about Justice Records. It's an excerpt from one of his blog posts, a normal thing for Enjolras to do between songs. But then someone in the crowd shouts, "Fuck the police!" Toward the back of the audience, there's a small but growing knot of brawlers. Bahorel leaps offstage, swearing, but there are at least forty people between him and the fighters, and oh God, are the actual police here? What are they doing?
Cosette steals the mic and covers for the growing tension. She's getting good at it. "Hello, everyone! Thank you again for turning out! As you can see, we've almost reached our donation goal, and we've still got twenty minutes to go! It's unbelievable how many of you care about artistic freedom." Here Cosette tears up, and not for the cameras. The number that flashes by on the donation marquee is unreal. "From an ex-American Idol star to a brand new artist to an independent DJ to me, legally troubled me, it's all of you who have made all the difference."
The people paying attention to her speech are in the palm of her hand. Cosette can see that even through the stage lights. Unfortunately, most people are concerned about the few people throwing punches, and they don't care about teary-eyed speeches from musicians. Police officers are moving through the crowd as well, handcuffs flashing. Cosette falters at the mic, unable to summon a smile. What if the club gets trashed? What if her friends go to jail?
Then her father strides out from backstage, guitar in hand. "Cosette left off one last guest artist," Jean Valjean says into the microphone. By some miracle, the audience hushes, confused by the sudden appearance of an old man. "It's been some time since I've played. You might recognize me better with 24601 in my hand."
Whispers ripple through the audience. Cosette hides a smile at her father's flair for the dramatic. 24601 is the name of the guitar that Johnny Rocker famously broke the same night he broke his nose, and she's guessing he has more than a few fans in the audience. Bahorel is already climbing back onstage, a definite sign that the fighting is over.
Cosette's heart stops when her father begins playing the first gentle chords of Cosette's favorite Jailbirds song, one she loved so much she would play it in her room despite how much she thought her father disliked the song. "Childhood living is easy to do," he sings, and his voice is a little pitchy with the years and the inevitable nerves, but Jean Valjean is a musician to the bone, and he corrects himself. "The things that you wanted, well, I bought them for you."
This song was written long before Cosette was born, but she knows her father is singing this for her. Not just to save this concert, but for her, to tell her he loves her, to lend his voice to her cause. "Wild horses couldn't drag me away," Jean Valjean promises, shooting a crooked smile her way. Through her tears, Cosette smiles back.
She raises the mic to her lips, nodding to her father, and takes the next verse. "I've watched you suffer a dull aching pain, and now you've decided to show me the same," Cosette sings, thinking of her father's face every time she asked about her mother, or his life as a musician. Eponine joins in with a delicate piano accompaniment as Cosette's voice swells with emotion. "No sweeping exits or offstage lines could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind."
Wild horses couldn't drag Cosette away, either. Not Javert, not the ghost of her mother, not all of the secrets in the world. If Cosette closes her eyes, she can almost hear her mother's voice singing along, roughened by cigarettes but still tender with love. She can't close her eyes for very long, though, because every member of her band has picked up the song, lending their music to an old man and his daughter. These are the moments that Cosette loves best in a music performance, moments when the whole band is in sync, when the audience is swaying back and forth with phones and lighters lifted in the air. They're singing along, Cosette realizes, and then she has to hold out her mic toward the crowd, singing with them.
"Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday."
The crowd stays perfectly still for the last few notes. The few audience members Cosette can see look as near to tears as Cosette feels. It's not their father singing onstage, but Jean Valjean is a beloved musician, a man who for all his mistakes still touched millions of lives with his music. The applause is deafening when the spell finally breaks, and then there's an even louder roar.
Cosette turns around, looking at the marquee. The number that flashes by makes her drop her mic, completely unprofessional. Enjolras retrieves it before he can roll offstage, looking a little flustered himself. "We have struck a blow for freedom!" he shouts, to the crowd's loudly expressed approval. "Justice Records, Cosette is yours no more!"
Someone is hugging her from behind--Marius, and then that's Eponine, rushing from the keyboard. Cosette steals the mic back from Enjolras. "I own my music again," she says, voice oddly normal in the furor of excitement. Then it sinks in. "I own my music! Everyone! Get ready to hear a track off the old album, the one that belongs to me again, and then we'll treat you to some more tracks off the new album! I'm calling for my own encore! Encore!"
Marius and Eponine each kiss Cosette's cheek before resuming their places. The press and the fans will probably have a lot of questions about that, no doubt. Everyone will just have to get used to Cosette doing things her way. Cosette throws back her head and laughs, reveling in the moment and the music.
*
Several months later
The last show of Cosette's tour takes her to Los Angeles.
Her ticket sales don't compare with Taylor Swift's or Katy Perry's, but Cosette has a growing following, and not just drawn from fans of DJ Enjolras. She can hear her own songs on the radio now, and it never fails to make her smile. Marius accompanied Cosette on the first leg of her tour and would always turn the radio as high as it could go when "Lights," still her most popular song, came on. Cosette cries whenever a station plays the live cut of her duet of "Wild Horses" during an acoustic hour. She called her father every day while out on tour, and she'll finally see him again tonight. She'll see Eponine tonight, too, still putting the finishing touches on her album, and Marius, who rejoined Eponine in Los Angeles for the last half of Cosette's tour. She's missed them both dearly, and all of her friends at the ABC.
Her last concert is tomorrow, but Cosette pushed to come back a day early, sacrificing an extra Oakland concert date to come back for a particularly special event.
Today, after a months-long stint in rehab, Grantaire returns to the ABC.
After the concert, after Cosette slammed down a check that covered her contract and her fines right before Javert's no longer smug face, she found out that Grantaire asked Joly and Bossuet to drive him to a rehabilitation center after the concert. A few of Les Amis actually cried in relief, hearing the news. Jean Valjean immediately volunteered to be Grantaire's sponsor, because even after all he's done for Cosette, the ABC, and countless others, he's still determined to do good.
And make good he did, because today Grantaire is coming home, and so is Cosette.
A shortish blur crashes into Cosette as she opens the door to the ABC. It's Gavroche, who hugs her ferociously before running off again. Too much emotion for a middle schooler to display in such a short span of time, Cosette theorizes. "See you later!" she calls after his retreating form. "You better have more raps to share!"
Bahorel ruffles her hair as she walks in the door, not even teasing her about a password. "Good to see you, too," she says, and pecks him on the cheek.
Jean Valjean is the first to greet her, scooping her up into his arms. He laughs a little louder than he normally does, smiles a little more. Cosette's heart aches at the change, but the good kind of ache, the kind that means she's happier than words can ever express. "I missed you so much," Cosette says. Then: "Oh! I left the cupcakes in the car!"
"I'll go get them," her father says, casting a discreet glance at Eponine and Marius, who are walking down the stairs hand in hand, faces equally alight at the sight of Cosette.
The press and her father still aren't sure what to make of their relationship, though her father has a better idea of what's actually going on. The press is convinced that Marius is two-timing Cosette with Eponine. Sometimes Eponine will text her the most hilarious headlines, and Cosette is fairly certain Eponine has all of the tabloids saved in a box somewhere. Whatever the press tries to sell, though, they're together and they're happy, in spite of the distance, in spite of all the difficulties in getting together. Cosette runs to them, laughing, and tries to kiss both of them at once. It doesn't work out, but none of them mind.
"Stealing my sponsor, stealing my friends, stealing my spotlight, when will it end?" Grantaire asks, planting a kiss of his own square in the middle of Cosette's forehead. "Take, take, take, that's all you stars do. How long until you're forgetting the little people who pushed you to astronomical heights in the first place? O, to be a secondary sun within your constellation!"
Combeferre, on a miraculous four-day weekend from his medical studies, says, "I don't think you know much about astronomy."
"Nonsense," Grantaire says, and proceeds to make up scientific jargon so ridiculous that Cosette, Eponine, and Marius laugh until they're nearly crying.
Nearly everyone is here, milling around eating the cupcakes Cosette brought and the countless hors d'oeuvres already set out. Cosette twists her head in one direction and then the other, searching for Enjolras. "He's hiding in the studio until he feels more ready to face R," Eponine says, noticing her searching. "When Grantaire left, they were on better terms, but things are still very much a question mark."
"Ah." Cosette makes a face. "Well, I'm allowed to push him out. I'm a guest, and I won't be here for that long."
Out of mercy, though, Cosette drags Enjolras downstairs to DJ the party rather than mingle with the guests, or one particular guest. "Your title is literally DJ Enjolras," is her argument, and Enjolras can't very well refuse that. He plays a few background tracks, all while grilling Cosette for details of the tour--what are the other acts like, is her sound evolving on the road, has she written any new songs. Cosette answers all of his questions happily, but she doesn't stay at his table for long. Her father and Marius and Eponine are here, after all, and they have first claim to her heart and to her time.
"Welcome back," Eponine says, looping an arm around Cosette's waist. Marius takes the other side. It's an awkward way to walk around the party, but it's entirely wonderful. They can't bear to stop touching each other.
"It's nauseating," Bossuet informs them. "Not even we were that bad when we started dating."
"You all got to stay in the same zip code," Eponine sniffs, turning her nose up in the air.
Completely deadpan, Joly offers, "I've got a cure for cuteness. How does the recipe go, again? Eye of newt, toe of frog…"
Musichetta gives each of her boyfriends a swat on the shoulder, laughing. "Congratulations for finding a way to make it work, you three. Really, well done."
Speaking of a way to make it work, Enjolras finally abandons the turntable in favor of quiet conversation with Grantaire in a corner. They're oblivious to the rest of the world, and Cosette can't hide her smile. Grantaire looks much healthier, his skin no longer sallow with alcohol and insomnia, and Enjolras looks just as happy as when they raised the full amount of money at the concert. That's worth something, Cosette thinks, and hopes that Grantaire can see it now that he's no longer drowning in self-hatred.
The party music, now on shuffle without anyone at the helm, pulls up one of Cosette's songs, the one that she wrote about all of Les Amis.
"Singalong! Singalong!" Courfeyrac demands, pumping his fist. The others join in, and they actually lift Cosette on their shoulders to carry her onstage.
"You can see this tomorrow night!" Cosette protests, but only in token; she's laughing too hard to be convincing. "Fine. Start the track over!"
She wrote "Burn" thinking of Les Amis passion, their conviction. "We, we don't have to worry about nothing," she sings to everyone, including Enjolras and Grantaire, still engrossed in each other. She's not insulted; she knows how that goes. "'Cause we got the fire and we're burning one hell of a something."
Enjolras does look over for the riff he helped Cosette write: "Strike a match, play it loud, giving love to the world. We'll be raising our hands, shining up to the sky, 'cause we got the fire, fire, fire." His face splits into a grin, an actual grin, and Cosette points to him on the next few lines: "And we gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn!"
This song is a favorite with Cosette's audience, and with Cosette herself. Secretly, it might be her favorite on the album. It's as defiant as her other songs against the music industry, but it's more hopeful than it is angry, a celebration of all her friends did to help her. It feels only right to sing it tonight, celebrating all her friends did to help Grantaire. And in the end, it was Grantaire who helped himself. An addict has to make the same choice every day, as her father says, and Grantaire chose his friends. He chose to live in the world, to give himself a chance. The last of the lost causes found himself at last, then came home.
Cosette pumps her fist in the air. "Sing it with me! We can light it up, up, up, so they can't put it out, out, out!" Whooping, everyone at the party raises a fist, some replete with a glass of sparkling non-alcoholic cider, and joins Cosette's triumphant crescendo.
There is a flame that never dies, and it is here, burning within her friends and loved ones, burning within Cosette's own heart. The song ends. Cosette keeps her fist raised. The song has ended, but the music never will.