Cosette watched the people pass by the window, their heads bent low and the collars straight; to try and protect their fresh skin from the bitterly cold wind. It had come quickly this year, the cold that gripped Paris's heart and slowly sucked the life from the city. She turned back towards the bed, smiling at the little girl who was snuggled into it. Cosette gracefully perched on the end, taking the perfect doll away from the girl kindly.
"I use to have a doll like this when I was your age," Cosette smiled fondly, "I loved her dearly"
"She is beautiful Mamma," The girl sighed, "I named her Marie"
"An enchanting name" Cosette smiled back, stroking the dolls blonde hair.
"Mamma?" The girl paused, "Why does Papa disappear at night?"
"He does not always my dear," Cosette replied sadly, "Only at this time of year, when the cold washes over Paris' soul"
The girl frowned, "But Mamma, why?"
Cosette paused, "That is a rather long answer dear, I fear you are too young to hear such shocking truths"
The girl pursed her lips, her eyes turning pleading under her mother's firm words. Cosette leaned over and placed the doll on a chair, making sure the doll was gazing lovingly at her. She sat down near her daughter, now stroking the girl's ebony hair affectionately.
"You my dear," Cosette chuckled, "Are too wise for your age"
She smiled brightly up at her mother, which only caused her mother to sigh sadly.
"Your Papa is a brave man and anyone who tells you differently is a fool, he is such a brave and honorable man. He feels guilt for his shortcomings and what he considers his failures, when really it is simply not his fault. My dear, he fought proudly for this country and was greatly injured in the fight" Cosette explained softly, her breath filling the room slowly.
"Mamma?" The girl asked, "Were you acquainted with Papa when he fought?"
Cosette smiled slowly, "Yes, I was in love with your Papa and he with me"
"Mamma," She frowned, "Why is Papa guilty?"
"When he was injured dear," Cosette sighed, "My own Papa found him and brought him to me, oh Marie! If you could have heard my heart, when I saw your Papa, oh how it soared. I was fearful I would loose him and your Papa, he lost all his friends"
Marie's eyes widened sadly, but there was understanding in the eyes.
"Just like your Papa's," Cosette mumbled fondly, kissing her daughter's forehead softly, "Go to sleep dear, Papa will be here when you wake"
Marius walked down the street, his boots kicking the cobblestone streets. He shivered into his thick overcoat, as the wind ripped through him violently. He turned into a side street, blocking out the noises that ran through his head. He past the orphans of Paris, the urchins who littered the street. One looked up at him, from under his threadbare cap and Marius blinked unsure if he had seen correctly. He couldn't help but compare the boy to Gavroche, the bravest urchin he had ever had the fortune to meet.
He said nothing and turned his eyes back to the street, walking past some of Paris' happiest inhabitants. They always were grinning and appeared to be more joyous than the 'privileged ones', which raised the question who were the real privileged ones of Paris?
He stared at the streets; all the physical evidence of the horrid crime had been washed away by cruel nature. It had washed away the physical memories but the mental images were scratched in his brain and, even though his memory was blurry he remembered it all too well. He squatted down and placed a finger against the frozen stones, letting out a shaky breath.
"Forgive me my friends," He sobbed loudly, "For I am with my love and life, yet you have lost yours for a cause which is still neglected"
He glared up at the sky and stood up, "Why save me Lord? Why not spare my friends?"
No reply met him so he stood silently and continued walking down the street. He could still see the blood and smell the dead bodies, which littered the street. He heard the commands of the soldiers, their anger mingled with the sounds of gunshots.
He walked across the road, pressing his cold fingers against the Iron Gate. It was stiff with rust, but he gave it a shove and heard the annoying creak as it opened. He heard the satisfying crunch of his boots on gravel, as he meandered down the familiar path. He knew this path better than he knew the way to his own home, in a sense he had spent as much time as he had here; than in his own home.
He sat down in front of the marble, tracing the words with his fingers. His face was pulled down into a frown, tears pouring down his face. He had witness horrid things at the grave and, had pledged to himself that he would never return. He had spent nine years, watching Cosette throw herself by the graveside and sob. Marius had stood by and watched, feeling utterly helpless, as the love of his life was so broken.
Tears fell down his face, as he came to the realization that he would never forgive himself for what he had done. The guilt, which consumed him over his friends, always ate away at him but the guilt he felt for sending Jean Valjean away, would not only eat away at him but also plunge him into the depths of hell.
He stood and dusted his trousers off, trying to compose himself. As always, a simple sign of respect, he offered a silent prayer for Jean Valjean. He sighed and touched the top of the grave, before walking away.
Cosette rubbed the side of her temples, throwing the book down. She considered going to bed, retiring for the night as the candle continued to dim. She sighed but a smile spread across her face as Marius entered the house. He closed the door behind him and locked it, turning back to his wife with a loving smile. He walked over to her and offered a hand, which she graciously took. When he had her standing in front of him, he lovingly placed a hand on the small bump, which was just being hidden by the thick dress material.
"My love," Marius paused, "I apologize for leaving so suddenly"
Cosette shook her head, "You're home now"
And he was, and he felt it.
