(In which Jehan has a problem or two, and certain historical facts are mostly ignored)
Jehan is sitting in the waiting room of the medical school, looking rather pale and distraught.
Combeferre comes in, distracted from his walking-while-reading by the bright and clashing colours and patterns of Jehan’s clothing. “Jehan?” Ferre asked, pausing by his friend.
“’Ferre!” Jehan exclaims in delight. “I’m glad it’s you. I was worried,” he confides.
“What were you worried about?” he sat down with Jehan.
Jehan opens his coat, revealing a disgruntled looking cat.
Ferre blinks in surprise. “Is that…a cat?”
“Yes, and I’m very displeased with him,” he frowns briefly at the cat, who has the decency to look ashamed for a moment. “He broke my favorite vase this morning, and while I don’t condone such behavior…I’m worried he might have some glass in his paw.” He holds the struggling cat. “Couldn’t we go to a smaller room? I’m afraid he might get away.”
“Ah…” Ferre sighed, resignedly. “Yes, alright.” He takes Jehan to a small exam room and closes the door. “Please hold him still.”
“Thank you!” Jehan puts the cat on the table and gentles him, giving him words of encouragement.
“Ah-choo!” Ferre sneezes, sniffling. “Excuse-moi.” He lifted each paw in turn, handling it and checking for pain. “He seems to be…ah-choo! …fine.” Ferre readjusted his glasses.
“Oh, good.” He kisses the cat, makes sure the door is closed, and releases him, before pulling off his boot and stocking.
Ferre looked confused. “What’s wrong with your foot?”
“Do you have a cold?” Jehan asks, belatedly. “I stepped in the glass when I was cleaning it up.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Ferre gets out his handkerchief and blows his nose. “I think I’m allergic.” He pushes Jehan onto the exam table, laying him down and running his fingers over the foot.
“That’s too bad. You should get that looked at.” He lays back on the table, suddenly sitting bolt upright with a terrible yelp.
“Stay still, Jehan.” Ferre pushed him back, concentrating now. He took a few pills from a container, giving them to Jehan.
Jehan crunches them, making a face. “Pleh. What’re those for? What’re you doing?” He tries to sit up.
“You’re supposed to swallow without chewing. It’s a pain killer.” Ferre gets his scalpel and tweezers ready.
“Oh.” Jehan watches with wide eyes.
Ferre holds Jehan’s foot still, touching the scalpel to it where he wants to start the cut.
Jehan squirms when he feels the sting, squealing a bit. The cat jumps up and frowns disapprovingly at Combeferre.
Ferre pulls the scalpel away and sneezes violently. After a few sneezes, “The pain killer should be working by now,” Ferre puzzled. He pressed his finger to Jehan’s swollen wound gently.
“Mmm! That hurts!” His expression closely matches the cat’s.
“I’ll…have to…ah-choo!...get my professor. I’ll be right back.” Ferre left in search of the man with the answers.
“Alright!” Jehan pets his cat, and watches the pretty colours of the room.
Professor Montcalme is in his office, planning his next lecture and wishing for more cadavers.
Combeferre knocks shyly, poking his head around the door.
“Ah! Monsieur Combeferre! Come in, come in!”
“Hello professor.” Ferre smiled. “I had a question. It won’t take long.”
“Of course. I’m nearly finished, anyway.” He sets his pen aside, seals his ink and pushes his papers away, showing that his student has his full attention. “How can I help?”
“I was approached by a friend who has a piece of glass in his foot. I gave him some opiates
and they didn't seem to have any effect. I gave him a little more, but he seems immune." Combeferre wrung his hands a little, distressed. "I couldn't think of any reason that they wouldn't work."
Professor Montcalme smiles at his student's distress, trying to hide it. He tries to think of a delicate way to phrase his question. "...how long have you known this friend?"
"Almost as long as I've been in Paris. I suppose about a year?" he's a little surprised at the question.
"Does he often seem distracted, unfocused?"
"Yes, I suppose he does. He wanders away sometimes while he's talking." Ferre admitted. He'd always considered this trait just another poet/musician characteristic. He didn't have many creative friends, but Jehan seemed the way poets should be.
"Does he ever seem withdrawn or depressed? Or sometimes unkempt? Have you noticed him losing weight at all, possibly?"
"He does get withdrawn and he's unkempt whenever I see him in the morning, sometimes in the evening as well. He's always been fairly thin, I haven't noticed any dramatic weight loss." Ferre looked worried. "Is it bad?"
The professor sighs. "Well...I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but...it seems likely that your friend is an opium user, and a fairly regular one."
Combeferre's jaw dropped. "That's... impossible."
Montcalme shrugs. "It's the only possibility that makes sense, considering what you've told me. Would you mind if I examined him?"
"Of course not, he's waiting in one of the private rooms." Combeferre showed him the way.
Montcalme follows, hoping he hasn't taken some of Combeferre's extremely endearing innocence.
Jehan is sitting on the table with his cat in his lap, inspecting the inside of her ear. He looks up and smiles when they come in. "Hello."
"Hello. I am Professor Montcalme, one of your friend Combeferre's professors. I asked him if I could have a look at you. Would that be alright with you? That's a very fine cat you have."
Combeferre sits in a chair, happy to relinquish the situation to his professor while he gets over the shock of what he's just been told about Jehan.
"Thank you, she is very fine." Jehan agreed. "You can look at me, if you want." His eyes are a tiny bit flirtatious.
Montcalme notices the flirtation, and ignores it, sitting in front of the small blond. "Thank you. Might I have your name? Combeferre was quite concerned for you and didn't have a chance to tell me." He's careful not to undermine his student.
"I'm Jean Prouvaire, but you can call me Jehan." He strokes the cat idly, watching the professor.
"Thank you, Jehan. Firstly, Combeferre gave you some pills, didn't he? Did he tell you what they were for?"
"For pain." he nodded. "And yes, I took them."
"Can you think of any reason why an opium based painkiller wouldn't work for you?" he asks, calmly, glancing at Combeferre to see his reaction.
"Oh, I take a lot of opium." Jehan chuckled, "I need a lot of it for it to work."
Montcalme nods sagely. "That makes sense." He smiles at Jehan. "I'm afraid we don't have a lot of alternatives...we're not exactly prepared for someone who's already accustomed to it. We might simply have to remove the glass with you awake, I'm afraid."
Jehan frowns, but nods. "If you say so," he said meekly.
"Thank you. Excuse us for a moment, Jehan." Montcalme gestures for Combeferre to follow him into the hall.
"Alright."
Combeferre followed his professor out of the room.
"Are you alright?" he asks, kindly. "Can you see the symptoms we've discussed in class, now that I've brought it to your attention?"
"Yes, professor. I'm terribly sorry that I didn't see it before." He seemed unhappy. Failing to identify Jehan's problem as well as the revelation about his friend's drug use was a bit too much for the student.
"That's quite alright, Combeferre. When I had a medical practice, I tried to avoid treating friends or acquaintances--it's often harder to notice problems or changes in people you see regularly, and it's much more difficult to be critical. It's not something you should blame yourself for." He boldly puts a fatherly hand on his student's shoulder. "Now, I was wondering if you would be willing to talk to him and comfort him while I remove the glass; to distract him."
"Of course, I can try. Thank you for your help, sir." Combeferre leaned into the hand gratefully.
"Of course, any time. I am always eager to help a promising student--who shows the same eagerness." He leads them back into the room, where he removes the glass from Jehan's foot with minimal fuss. "There, you should be just fine. If it's alright, I'll let Combeferre take over from here."
Jehan leaned over and kissed the professor on the cheek. "Thank you."
Montcalme carefully removes the blond from himself, without a hint of embarrassment. "Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Prouvaire." With that, he leaves.
Combeferre blushes, not sure what to think about this 'new' Jehan.
Jehan smiles at Combeferre, getting up and wincing a bit as he steps on his bandage. "Thank you. He was very nice, you're lucky to have him as a professor."
"Yes, he's a wonderful professor." he nodded, his smile a bit forced. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Yes, of course. Well, I suppose I should be on my way," he chirps, "it's almost time to feed the cats." He pulls on his stocking, a little painfully.
"Do you want me to walk you home?" Combeferre offered.
"Sure!" The blond pulls on his boot and grabs the cat, then asks, "Actually, would you mind carrying him?"
"I... of course." Ferre gingerly took the cat, sneezing into his sleeve after the animal ran its tail under his nose.
"Thank you." Jehan gingerly stands, hopping a little oddly for the first few steps, but quickly walking mostly normally. "I don't live far."
(Not really concluded...)
