A/N: I've never written for Les Mis before, so feedback would definitely be appreciated! I have a thing for OCs...I guess that's obvious by now, haha! I do not own Les Mis, but Genevieve is my own creation. This is a one-shot - I know, it's super long, but I don't want to make it a chapter thing.
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Courfeyrac was nearly infamous for being a disheveled, out-of-breath mess. This was due, in part, to having a high metabolism and an ever-active energy comparable to none. This proved him to be a powerful asset when his fellow Amis needed him to run messages back and forth along the clutter of the barricade. Such was the case just after settling in. All were on the highest alert, and that's when Courfeyrac was approached on the far side of the barricade. She gave him a name, and something inside of him clicked. While he had never seen this woman before in his life, her name was something he'd heard.
Rushing off, he headed straight for their leader. Courfeyrac must've appeared flustered beyond repair, judging by Enjolras's expression upon sighting him.
"Good God, Courf!" Enjolras exclaimed. "Why so out of breath? Is there news from the front?"
Courfeyrac shook his head. "There is someone here to see you," he reported, taking a pause before catching his breath at last. "A woman. She said her name is Genevieve and that you'd understand."
Enjolras's face fell, a look that was a terrible combination of shock, horror, awe, love and lovelornity. "...Genevieve? Here?" His comrades had never seen the stoicism of their blonde-headed leader come crashing down, and to see it occur on the eve of battle was not a tell-tale sign of victory, but of defeat.
"Enj?" Combeferre said from nearby, a hint of worry in his voice.
"Jehan," Enjolras said upon recovering from his shock, "Combeferre, keep watch. I must...I must see her with my own eyes..." He was clearly in some kind of nostalgic, emotional trance as he hurried off.
"Where's he gone to?" Marius asked of Jehan as he watched his friend rush off.
Jehan's handsome features were all-knowing as he grinned and took a seat on the barricade, his able fingers finishing up the plait of his hair. "Enj has some - how shall I put this? - unfinished business to attend to," he answered.
"Who is this Genevieve that Courf mentioned?"
A thick, dirty-blond eyebrow lifted upon sensing Marius's curiosity. "Genevieve is the only thing he has ever really loved outside of Patria."
"Why has he never mentioned her before?"
"Theirs was not an easy story. It was doomed at the start."
Marius was growing more curious by the second. Enjolras's love story must have been truly terrible - even if it was only how this was viewed between those involved, though Marius was unaware of the circumstances - for him to bury her so deeply inside of himself in such a way for only those who were there at the time to fully grasp the weight of the situation.
"Jehan, that is Enj's business to tell or to not tell," Combeferre said.
"It is a beautiful and tragic tale, 'ferre. If Pontmercy wishes to know, it may serve a bit of good in its retelling."
"Hush up, Jehan," Joly said with a shake of his head. "You're just in love with love."
The plaited, golden-haired scholar nodded. "I do adore a good romance."
Combeferre shook his head. "Living through the story as it happened was heart-wrenching enough. Leave me out of its retelling." He moved several paces away, saddened by the mere mention of the tale.
Jehan took Marius by the arm and tugged him down to a seated position. "Enjolras met her while we were at school, among the first days there. She was lovely, average in stature, and had flowing auburn hair. To be frank, there was nothing particularly striking about her, but to Enjolras, she was as a vision from God, an angel sent to love him."
-"Bonjour," Enjolras greeted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
-Genevieve smiled at the strikingly handsome man, giggling gently at the sight of his large, oceanic eyes staring at her. "Bonjour," she repeated. "Are you lost, monsieur?"
-"Only in the sight of you, mademoiselle," he complimented, blushing a bright shade of red.
-"How very flattering." In truth, she actually was flattered by the fact that he was being so kind. She had never seen him before, but she was thankful for meeting him at the school. It was not an often happenstance in meeting someone with whom she got along.
-"Are you a student?"
-"No, I'm actually taking calligraphy lessons from a professor here."
-"Professor Tombon?"
-"The same! Do you know him?"
-"Well enough to know that he's a pious, bigoted individual who enjoys the company of young, loose women."
-Genevieve smiled. "You know him well."
-"He hasn't shown interest in you yet, has he?"
-"Not that I have gleaned."
-"I do not trust that man, not with one such as you. You have a certain...class about you. Perhaps you would permit me to escort you to and from your lessons?"
-Genevieve raised an eyebrow. "Why should I permit such a thing?"
-"Perhaps because you know I am right. I would be remiss if I didn't."
-"I...I would enjoy your company. My name is Genevieve Lacroix. By what name shall I call you, monsieur?"
-"Enjolras."
Jehan was musing in their story and quite enjoying how Marius was so vested in its retelling, so he continued. "Over the passing weeks, he grew more attached to her everyday. They grew to know each other, love each other, and understand each other. Their ever-blooming passion budded into a strong affliction and they became lovers in every sense of the term. Soon, the two were sharing their ideals in the glow of a love alight over their naked figures after intimacy, and Enjolras told her of his adoration with Patria, a love so binding he could not rest until it had been assuaged by the uprise of leaders. Genevieve shared such a vision, a free country, and expressed her wish to remain by his side until the earth was free."
Listening to the sound of his bare-chested heartbeat made Genevieve into a pile of putty in his hands, purely his to mold and meld into whatever he wished her to become or so she could reflect his vision of her. Her ear placed against his chest at the center of his chest hair, she marveled in the marblesque figure of the god beneath her.
-"If only we could remain as we are now," she muttered, her fingertips tracing patterns on his sides.
-"Who can say otherwise?" Enjolras asked, his fingers lost amid her auburn curls as he watched their flesh dance in the light and shadows of the dancing firelight. "I would enjoy nothing more."
-"What of your dream for a free world?"
-"Do you not also believe in a free world?"
-Genevieve nodded. "Of course I do. I wish for all of the things you dream of to come to fruition and for you to be as infinitely happy as you've always wanted."
-Enjolras smiled. Already this woman knew him better than some of his closest friends, even some of the ones he had known since childhood. "I am happy with you and if I happen to see my dreams come true, that would be a wonderful sight. I have faith in my dreams."
-"As do I."
-"Faith in your dreams or in mine?"
-Genevieve pulled away, smiling at him from her position of being propped on her elbow. "Both."
-Enjolras grinned, nudging a knuckle under her chin and urging her forward as he craned his neck upward and pressed his mouth against hers. He had never before acquired a lover, and none could have been more deserving, more loving, more immaculately incredible as her. He had fallen for her and as he felt her toes curl around his gently, Enjolras found himself lost within her grasp. "You are a far-cry from others of wealth that I've known. None have cared about those with no opportunity."
-She nodded. "I know. I have grown with a family who never gave the needy a second glance, and it broke my heart every day. I have done what I can in giving them a chance, in giving them items they need to survive. God knows the government does not care for the poor."
-He was adoring her more every time she spoke. "I wish to see a new world, a free world, one where everyone is given equal chances at success and all are taken care off. The rich have had it far too good for far too long."
-Genevieve's free hand wove through his curls, the blond tresses she had come to be so affectionate for, among other angelic sects of his physicality. "No one could make that happen but you, Enjolras. Every man is responsible for his dreams. If you hold those beliefs to be what you wish to accomplish, make it happen."
-Enjolras smiled at her, running his fingers along the outline of her face, her shoulders, her arms, and suddenly found himself wanting to be so much more to this woman, more than was probably appropriate for a couple that had only known each other a couple of months. "I must tell you something, Genevieve." Genevieve sat up, her eyes wide, and Enjolras sat up to meet her, scooting closer as his hands scanned the span of her body. "I know that we haven't known each other for nearly as long as many of our status would say is essential in a real relationship, but I cannot think of another woman, another being who breathes in the thoughts that I do and firmly believes in the causes my heart aches to fight for. I do not wish to be with anyone but you." Genevieve paused, watching as one of his hands stroked along her face, her shoulders, her thighs, and Enjolras licked his lips. "Say something."
-Genevieve's gaze met his. "I...I wish I had the proper words to tell you how happy you make me, Enj. I did not taste real affection before you and now that I have, there is no chance of letting it get away from me."
-Enjolras smiled, his eyes scanning her face. "Is that a good thing?"
-Genevieve chuckled, grinning brightly. "It is a very good thing. I will be yours, Enj, for as long as you'll have me."
-"How does forever sound to you, Nev?"
-"Perfection."
-"Here." Taking a bit of twine from a pillow beside him, he tore off a small section of it and took her left hand, tying it around her ring finger with a sweet smile. "I vow to be yours for as long as you wish me to hold that title, and I will marry you if your father approves."
-Genevieve blushed in the fire's glow, biting into her bottom lip to keep from sobbing. "I want to remain yours, Enjolras, and marry you so that we may, together, fight out the abandoned fight."
-Enjolras smiled and shifted closer to her, feeling his eyes well with tears as his hands stroked her face and brought it to his. Kissing Genevieve was the closest he would ever get to kissing Patria herself, so he deepened such pursuits, moving to hover over her as he felt his passion renew.
"Genevieve confessed her ailment to her parents, taking heed to mention that her illness had a name, and that name was Enjolras. Enj was forced out of her life and replaced with another man, a man that she could not and did not love."
My dearest and only love,
If only words could bring you back. If only there was a way I could convince your father that the man he has chosen for you is not a man who will do right by you, who will see your dreams come to fruition. Such are my thoughts as I wake and as I lie in my bed alone at night, thinking only of you and wishing you were near. A part of me died the day I last saw you as I have not seen you since, felt your breath, heard your heart, and tasted your skin. I miss the summer days we spent together, I miss the raindrops that fell the night we made love in the woods. I miss so many things, and at the top of them all is you.
I understand that your father will, undoubtedly, confiscate this letter if he hears of it or has a chance to see it prior to its arrival to your fingers - oh, how I miss those digits! - but I hope by some miracle that Fate will have its way with us and will see that you read this. I am always here in Paris if you wish to find me. I am always around.
Toujours,
Enjolras
*-:-*
Enjolras,
Why have you not written me? I so long to hear your voice, to feel your lips pressed to mine, to have your fingers within my grasp, and make love to you until the sun rises, but one letter from you would more than suffice. I wish I could tear away from all of this, but you know better than anyone that I do not have the strength nor the stout heart I so admire in you. I have no backbone, my love, and for that I have failed you.
I wish for you to know that I have never loved and could never love anyone the way I love you, and that is the truth as cold and simplistic as it is. I made a vow to you one night - you know the one - and would never go back on my word, especially where love guides me.
I wish you would write to me. I long to hear from you, even if you are unwell. Perhaps soon we shall cross paths again and things will be as they once were. I miss the summer.
I miss you.
Come back to me, Enjolras. I love you so, even though I did not say it to your face as often as I should have.
Yours,
Genevieve
"That completely shattered him - it was then that he sought out Patria's affection, never grasping the fact that Patria loves no one in return, especially not as Genevieve loved him. When he received alleged news that Genevieve had passed away, he became reclusive for several weeks and saw no one. That was the moment in which Enj became dark and almost cynical - he believed in nothing but Liberty, loved no one but Memory, and trusted nothing but Death. An infection grew inside of him, a hatred for those with money, and he wished for nothing short of the destruction of the world that had cost him the love of his life."
Marius could feel his heart aching and breaking for the curly-headed comrade that he had never really known. "Heavens," he muttered when Jehan had finished speaking. "So the news that she had died was false?"
Jehan nodded and shrugged simultaneously. "If she is here, I would say so."
Marius looked towards where he had seen Enjolras disappear to and wished him all the best.
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His mind aflutter and his heart on fire, Enjolras left the group as memories of his one and only romance echoed in his mind and filled him to the brim. This moment, the moment of their reunion, was one he swore he'd never live to see but then there she was, hooded and cloaked and standing before his very eyes.
Enjolras stopped, his eyes taking in the figure standing on their side of the barricade. "Genevieve?" he breathed, his voice a bit hoarse.
The cloaked figure removed the hood, and there she was, her still-lovely features dancing amid the light and shadows of the torches. "Enj," she whispered and he melted at the sound of her voice.
"My God, it is you!" He was fighting back the fits of sobs seeking to beguile his grief from a loss he had found to be so overwhelming.
"I am here," she said before rushing to him and thrusting her slender arms around his neck, burrowing her face into his shoulder as she began to weep.
"Oh, my love!" He breathed in the familiar scent of her auburn locks as his hands slipped tightly - possessively - around her waist and pulled her inside of the Musain.
"Who is this cherry?" a very drunk and still drinking Grantaire inquired with a smirk, slowly approaching where Enjolras and Genevive were standing with their hands clasped tightly together.
"I require a favor from you, 'taire," Enjolras began before his drunken friend made a gesture that told him to be silent.
"Introduce me," Grantaire slurred.
"This is Genevieve."
"The cherry has a name!"
Genevieve smiled softly as she sniffled. "I can assure you I am far from 'cherry,'" she teased, and Grantaire grinned.
"I like her, Enjy-boy. Keep her around."
Enjolras made brief but powerful eye contact with Genevieve. "I plan on it." He then turned back to his wine-sodden friend. "I need you to make sure that no one bothers us, 'taire."
"Gonna poke?" She blushed bright pink.
"Just be certain that is anyone needs me, they must make due with what they can until we emerge. Is this clear to you?"
"Like a church-mouse." He had completely misunderstood the phrase, but he got off on a good foot by planting himself just outside the tavern door, wine in hand.
"Nev," Enjolras started, his gaze locking with her wide, lustrous browns. His hands clasped around hers, locking their fingers together as his eyes drowned in the sight of her. "You are here. You are alive - I had received news of your death. I died that day, and now it is as if you've reawakened me."
Genevieve closed her eyes briefly as he spoke, her entire being reveling in the masterpiece that was his voice. Her eyes opened when he finished speaking and immediately sought his gaze. "I traveled to look for you. Rome, Berlin, Athens - all of the places you aspired to visit - I searched for you in all of them. Two years I searched, traveling the span of the continent, but I could not find you, so I returned to Paris, figuring you must be here as I did not receive word from you."
His heart ached upon hearing testament of her widespread search for him. One of his hands moved to cup and caress her cheek, his eyes darting along her face. "I wrote you many letters - I daresay your father came between them and you. How could you have known about my whereabouts? Paris may not be all of Europe, but it is a broad city nonetheless."
Genevieve's hand moved up to grasp the wrist of the hand he cupped her face with. "I was at Lemarque's funeral procession. He was my uncle, you'll recall."
"You saw me there?"
She shook her head. "I heard you singing." A fond smile perched against her lips. "We wrote those lyrics together. There is none who could have known them save for you."
Enjolras smiled fondly at the memory. "I rememer every detail about the time we shared together." His smile soon faded. "Does your husband known that you are back?"
"I never married him." When his expression reflected shock, she continued. "We were all set at Father's bidding when he was called off to duty and was killed three days later. Father was outraged and that is when my search for you began. I should have come sooner, shouldn't have waited..."
"I never loved after you."
Genevieve raised her other hand, still clasping his in its grasp and showed him the bit of twine around her finger. "I promised that this would never leave my finger, and it never has."
Something woke up inside of Enjolras, something he had once known, and it glistened behind his eyes. "Do you think it is too soon to ask you for a kiss?"
"Kiss me, Enj. To have come so far and to still feel as I do with you - " She was interrupted by his lips pressing gently, lovingly, knowingly to hers, and she moved closer upon feeling his hand pull her skull closer to his. The kiss deepened slowly, hauntingly affecting the pair of lovers. In that moment, each was swept away into their past as the familiar sweeping of each mouth across the other's sent both of them into a frenzy. Enjolras remembered the first time he had ever kissed her, recalling the specific observation that his lips matched hers perfectly. It was almost as if each set of lips had been chiseled out of the same bit of marble, proof to him that she was made for him.
Genevieve remembered the first set of words they had exchanged as pillow talk, the night on which they had first made love.
-"I have no words," was the first thing out of Enjolras's mouth upon rolling off of her and onto his side. One of his hands still gripped at her sides and a bright smile was pasted across his divine lips, still tasting the salt of her skin on the tip of his tongue.
-"I believe we have made each other speechless - this is a moment to remember, Enjolras," Genevieve marveled, running her fingers through her hair to push it out of her face, residual moisture transferring to her fingertips as her gaze remained locked in his.
-"So this is what intercourse is really like...my own thoughts had pondered it much differently."
-"Was this better than your imagination had allowed you to believe?"
-Enjolras's hands brought her lips to his before moving his mouth to trail kisses down her neck, between her breasts and along her navel. "You are perfectly divine, like an apparition from a dream brought to life."
-Genevieve blushed, feeling her sexual heat replenish in the sultry, masculine tones of his voice. "You flatter me, monsieur, too much, I think. What have I done to deserve such a privilege as this?"
-"You exist."
For each of them, the experiences were the same, even though each had a different general perspective. Either way, everything they had ever been meant to be was flooding back like a tidal wave of emotions, a monsoon of sensations.
Surfacing for air, Enjolras brushed his nose against hers, swiping his thumbs across her kiss-swollen bottom lip.
"You taste just the way I remember," he remarked. "I have hungered for that taste for far too long."
Genevieve's hands clutched at his back. "Be mindful of our surroundings, love," she cautioned. "You are in the midst of a revolution - I cannot be responsible for any distractions that may befall you at my presence."
"You are all I have needed. With you at my side, this revolution is unstoppable." He leaned down, kissing her softly once again. "Can I ask of you a favor?" When she nodded, he pushed his cheek against hers to rest his mouth adjacent to her ear. "Let me make love to you."
Genevieve pulled back, her eyes wide. "Enj, your friends are outside - they need you to be focused on what's happening outside. Their lives are at stake."
Enjolras nodded after a moment. "You are right, of course, but none of them are faced with the woman who changed their entire outlook on life. If they knew what we felt three years ago and what we are feeling three years later, they would understand why I must stick by your side and make up for lost time. Two long years I have lain dormant and demure, awaiting the day when I could again experience the passion I have saved for you. If we die tonight - "
"Do not talk like that."
"But what if we do? I only wish to have my last night in this life be dedicated to you."
It had been so long since she had heard him speak like that, and it shattered her guard. Behind the walls around her was the love she felt for him, love that had too long stayed silent. If he was correct and that night was to be their last, to taste a mere inkling of what they had once shared would more than suffice.
"I am long out of practice," she confessed, biting into her bottom lip. "How long do you think it will take you?"
He pondered this for a moment, blushing slightly. She was the only human being he had ever discussed such intimate terms with, and she was the only woman who could ever even be worthy of such a physical interaction with him - unless Patria were human. "Not long. I have not...not since you."
"Same."
"Perhaps upstairs might be best so we are not disturbed?"
"On the floor?"
He nodded. "We must be as silent as possible - I would not want anyone to walk in and humiliate you in such a way." He seemed edgily hesitant as though he wanted her stamp of approval prior to continuing.
Genevieve squeezed his hands and gave him a small smile. "As has always been true, I am yours for the taking."
Enjolras locked his fingers through hers as he led her up the stairs to the second floor. This was where the Amis held their meetings - papers and half-melted candles were scattered everywhere. This particular place on the floorboards where the pair would make love to one another was symbolic of their entire relationship, but neither could refrain from silently flashing to a feeling that as they prepared themselves for intercourse, they were diving headfirst towards their executions.
Such a feeling intensified as Enjolras laid out the solid red flag, a symbol of his friends and fellow revolutionaries, so that their love-making had a base, and was strengthened further when Genevieve wrapped her nude figure in the French flag before approaching Enjolras and lying down on the red flag at his request.
The pair had always been respectful, tasteful, and ritualistic in their love-making. As Enjolras had correctly predicted, it did not take long before the two were finished in a tangled mess of sweat and limbs furled between sections of the French ensign now intermingled between the both of them.
Genevieve sat cross-legged in front of him, bare-breasted in the candlelight, as her hand combed through his gorgeous, curly blond tresses and her eyes glowed with an inner warmth anew. "When this is over, the first thing that I wish to do with you - "
"You have just done," he interrupted softly, his fingers playing with her free hand.
Genevieve grinned, blushing a light pink. " - well, the second thing then, is buy you a new pair of shoes. I miss the old ones."
"First things first, marry me, Nev. Be my bride."
Genevieve gave his fingers a squeeze. "My answer has been and will forever be yes."
Enjolras flashed a smile before stooping to place a soft kiss just above each of her breasts. He then pulled back and, using his index knuckle, he tipped her chin towards his face, his lips meeting hers in a soft kiss.
"Enjolras!" a voice in close proximity to the lovers stated boldly, startling the two out of their kiss as she pulled a bit of the flag over her breasts. Looking directly at the source of the voice, Enjolras spoke first.
"Jesus, 'ferre!" he said, his harrowing eyes glaring at the guide. "What is it?"
"One," Combeferre started, struggling to compose himself from being either totally put-out or bursting into fits of giggles, "in case you've forgotten, there's a revolution going on outside and your distraction on this floor will make it difficult for me to ever set foot in this room the same way again." Something inside Genevieve shuddered at the sound of that response, but she could not yet understand why. "Two, there's something you need to hear." He started to leave, but turned around and narrowed his eyes. "I thought of a third thing."
"Yes?" Enjolras said, taking one of Genevieve's hands and running it over his cheek.
"Don't set 'taire on watch. Had to wake him up just to get in here." Combeferre shook his head and departed, leaving Enjolras to chuckle gently.
Enjolras frowned softly as he watched his love layer her clothes on once again, concealing the magic of her feminine curves, a vision he had remitted into memory.
Turning her head around, Genevieve noticed that his buttons were askew, so she crossed the room, her nimble fingers outstretching towards his chest to pull his hands away. "Let me," she offered, her eyes locked on his chest as she readjusted his buttons. When she finished and while he was in the midst of tucking his shirt into his pants, she leaned forward and placed her lips against the topmost section of his chest hair. Enjolras swallowed as a tingling sensation coursed throughout his being, sourced where her lips lay against his flesh.
"There's a revolution on," he said in an attempt to divert the lust that was being replenished as he spoke. He took her hand into his and led her down the stairs and out of the tavern. "Feuilly, what is 'ferre on about?"
Feuilly shrugged. "I do not know - perhaps you should ask him. He is by that door over there," he answered, so the pair headed over to where Combeferre was conversing with Bossuet and another man who was fairly new to the Amis.
"What is it, 'ferre?" Enjolras asked.
"Nice to see you outdoors once more," the guide remarked with a smirk.
Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Is anything wrong? Is any man hurt? Are we preparing to be attacked?"
"Something had to be persuasive enough to get you back out here where you belong." He shook his head. "Nothing is wrong yet. Everyone is resting."
How Combeferre had grown to be a sassy man was something Enjolras was fiercely pondering as he nodded. "Who is on watch?"
"Bahorel and Marius were on watch at the last."
"Understood." Enjolras led Genevieve towards the barricade, rousing Courfeyrac from his slumber."Courfeyrac, you take the watch - they may attack before it's light." His comrade stood and assumed his watch. The blond turned his gaze scanning along all those who looked to him. "Everybody, keep the faith for certain as our banner flies, we are not alone - the people, too, must rise." Crossing the backside of the barricade, a cluttered mess of wood and shadow, he reached out his free hand and grasped Marius's shoulder. "Marius, rest."
"Come, love," Genevieve said, leading Enjolras towards the cafe. "Even the fearless leader deserves to rest." He placed his back against the wall and slumped to the bricks, tugging her down to sit between his legs with her back to his chest. Genevieve rested her head against his shoulder, comforted by his warmth and open arms upon feeling him remove his jacket. With no blankets available, his coat would keep them both warm as they dreamed. He draped it across her, wrapping his arms around her as a familiar sound filled the air - Grantaire had awoken and had begun singing as he passed the wine bottle around.
Genevieve settled within Enjolras's arms. "Is he always this jovial?" she asked.
Enjolras nodded, leaning his cheek against the side of her head. "I have never known him to be any different."
"He's a fine man."
"You should not encourage him."
"You should not doubt him."
"He is a stubborn drunkard - nothing more."
"And you are a stubborn mastermind - nothing less."
Genevieve had always possessed a power over him that he could not control. He adored her blunt-force honesty, a trait that made him loathe others. She talked him straight, helped him keep himself grounded and he loved her more for it each and every time she reminded him of his mortality.
Enjolras smiled to himself and pressed his mouth against the side of her hair. "I am sorry if you were offended by my words," he whispered.
"All I ask is that you broaden your sight on someone before passing judgment. From what I have seen, you despise Grantaire - dare I say even repulsed by him at times? - yet he has done no wrong. He shows his loyalty to the cause and yet is shunned by you because of his attachment to a wine bottle."
"It would appear you have developed a soft spot for him, my love."
"I pity him greatly. There is more to him than wine." She remained silent after that, restraining herself from saying what she had been about to say.
Enjolras could sense that there was something wrong, nudging his nose against her temple. "Genevieve, my love, speak your mind."
Biting her lip, Genevieve spoke. "When we first met and you learned of my status, what did you judge me upon - what criteria? Both of us were the only children blessed to wealthy, bigoted parents - did this bother you?"
Enjolras frowned. "Why are you asking me this?"
"I want to know if you ever judged me as you have judged Grantaire. One of the first things you told me was how trivial physical qualities were when compared to pursuits of the mind, and that was after I expressed how handsome you were."
This had never even been given more than a fleeting thought in his mind. He had told her back then of how much he loved her and the way she looked - truth was, Enjolras had never considered anyone to be as painstakingly beauteous as he knew her to be. Had he known that not complimenting her looks or not mentioning his disdain for her status and his affection for her in spite of this was being misinterpreted as biased judgments being passed against her or something of the like, he would have begun to tell her long ago of his unbiased opinions about her.
"I had never, before you, cared about the physical beauty that others possessed. After I first laid eyes on you, I never again lifted my eyes to compare the base appearances of others with your angelic physicality. I judged everything I saw, heard of, and everyone before I met you. After that, none of it mattered. You became the pinnacle of my life's pursuits, the promise of a brighter future, the symbol for the fight I wanted to live my life by. You are the reason, you are perfection, and I love you." He paused, bringing one of her palms to his lips. "You were the first person I did not judge, and you became exactly what I have dedicated my life and my studies to preserve. Patria has always been and will always be my mistress, but you are my...well, my everything else."
"Do I not also have your love?"
"Patria loves no one. I love you."
Genevieve smiled to herself, understanding that Patria would always keep them somewhat separated as he had latched hold of the idea of its preservation upon "losing" the only real bit of love he had ever experienced. "Don't let me go."
"Never again. I will not survive." He separated each of her fingers and pressed his lips against the tips of each. There had once been a time when Enjolras had been a solid rock, an inner demon struggling with its host. When Genevieve entered his life, he had been changed for the better. At least, he was different around her than he was around others, even his friends, but this was because she had penetrated his soul, bewitching him into reality and a passion ever-aflame.
She suddenly found herself wanting to make love to him again, but her self-restraint held up quite well as she settled against him once more and pulled his arms into a tighter circle around her as the pair of them drifted off into a light sleep.
The night behind the barricade remained silent for the most part, save for a select few deciding on singing songs of hope on occasion, or even on their own. Gavroche had gone into hiding to mourn the tragic loss of his sister to protect Marius, while Marius was pining over Cosette's handkerchief.
Stirring from his slumber, Enjolras was enamored of the view of his lover still wrapped inside of his arms and leaning against him and into him for comfort. A smile crossed his lips as he nudged his nose against her hair and smelled the oncoming sunrise.
"Genevieve," he whispered softly, one of his hands rubbing her arm, "I must go and sneak a look at the nearest streets to see what we're up against, find out what the other barricades have in mind strategically."
Genevieve's eyelids fluttered open as she groaned groggily and nodded, having heard and understood every word he had said. "Do what you must, my love," she said, shifting out of his arms and rising to her feet, patting down her dress as she found herself wide awake.
Enjolras stood and slipped his arms through his jacket. "Will you be alright here by yourself?"
"Of course." She turned to him, giving him a small smile and finding that her facial muscles had not yet warmed up.
Enjolras kissed her forehead before darting off into one of the small alleyways between buildings and she headed off in search of water, hoping and silently praying that he would return to her in one piece.
"Good morning, mademoiselle," Combeferre greeted from his perch on a broken stool by the tavern door. "Get some decent sleep?"
Genevieve nodded. "Yes, and I think Enj did, too." She watched the guide crinkle his nose in such a way that said that perhaps he did not approve of her nickname for her lover, knowing full-well that the boys called him by such as name as well.
"Anything you need?" Bossuet asked as he finished piping some gunpowder into his rifle.
"Is there anything to drink?"
"If by way of water, you mean, then no," Grantaire said as he came up beside her, smelling of previous alcoholic binges. "We do have some wine, however, if you are seeking to merely quench a thirst, so to speak."
Genevieve shrugged, outstretching her hand. "That will suffice." She took the bottle from his hesitant hand and uncorked it, downing a swig and handing it back to the sober drunkard before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I have never seen a woman take to an offer of alcohol so quickly before." He sounded almost concerned, but she shook her head.
"Water is hard to come by - even the wealthiest of men understand this and take whatever they can as it is offered to them." Grantaire smiled at her, admiring his friend's lover as he gulped down some of the refreshing drink and watched as Combeferre's face reflected his disapproval.
"Enjolras," Marius's voice beckoned, and Genevieve's ears perked, rushing off to where she saw familiar blond tresses climbing over one of the piles of furniture near an alley, "the rain has damaged the gunpowder. We're low on ammunition."
"We are the only barricade left," Enjolras's voice said, and Genevieve's heart shattered for him.
"What?"
Now others were listening in to hear the terrible news. "We're the only ones left." Genevieve made it to her love and took his arm, looking into his eyes with the most sympathy she could muster. His dream - nay, their dream - of a free world that they could cause, a world they would live to see, was dead. It died the night they decided to coup the government, the night that Genevieve had discovered her long-lost affliction carrying out his aspirations of a higher future, and none would live to see the next sunset, which was a sad realization that every revolutionary behind the barricade was coming to. "The people have not stirred. We are abandoned by those who still live in fear. Let us not waste lives." His gaze turned to meet hers beside him and his fingers squeezed hers. "Let all who wish to...go from here."
"I will stay," Genevieve whispered to him, her other hand taking hold of his lapel and shaking her head.
Enjolras's eyes unveiled a terrible fear behind them, a look that struck her down to her absolute core. She had never before sensed a fear so great and horrible behind his eyes and to see this look now on the eve of the end of their days, it was far too much for her to handle properly. "Genevieve, I will not ask that of you. This is not your fight - I began it with my friends, and so shall it end."
"We both dreamed of seeing a world that is free. Do not ask me now to leave you here - I've come so far, so lost and so alone. Can you not see I'm not strong on my own? You are my life."
"You are my home." He pressed his forehead to hers. "If you must go, I understand."
"No. I stay." She nodded her head resolutely, feeling her chin slightly quiver.
"I fear you - "
" - fear me what?"
"I fear you will die, my love, perhaps for nothing."
"To die with you for Patria, well, Enjolras...that's something."
Enjolras knew there could be no persuading her otherwise. She was here and she would die with him. Together was how they began and they would die in the same manner.
"Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men?" Gavroche's tiny voice began to sing aloud, and others joined in for the next line. "It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again." The rest of those behind the barricade joined in the singing, all of them sealing their decisions to stay and fight for their dreams. "When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes."
Enjolras's eyes met Genevieve's as they, too, had been among the singing, and with a nod of her head, he realized that their fates had been sealed.
"Enjolras," Feuilly said, taking the beaten-down and rather forlorn leader by the shoulder to garner his attention, "we need more ammunition."
"I'm going into the colonnades," Marius announced rather boldly. "There are dead bodies there, dry ammunition."
"The gunpowder is soaked through."
"Okay," Enjolras said with a light nod of his head, "let's round it up. Let's get everything in here."
"Gavroche," Combeferre was heard from the top of the barricade. "Gavroche!" He had attempted to muffle his voice, but slowly the revolutionaries were hearing him speak, beckoning the young boy to come back, but where had he gotten off to in the first place?
Enjolras and Genevieve looked towards the top of the barricade and a little singing voice was heard from the other side, followed by a gunshot from the national guard. All went silent until Combeferre tried once again to get the youngling to come back.
Combeferre attempted to put a hand in front of Courfeyrac who rose to the top and was frantic at the sight of the young one on the other side. "Gavroche?" he said in shock before scrambling to try and get to him, though the guide held him back. "Gavroche! Gavroche, what are you doing?!"
Another gunshot followed by silence. This shot, unlike its previous, sounded as though it did not hit the mess of furniture nearby but, instead, a body. Courfeyrac fought his way from his friends' arms to try and retrieve the boy from the other side of the colonnades. Another gunshot rang out, followed by the most sickly form of silence that those behind the wall had ever heard as Courfeyrac disappeared from sight for a moment, returning with the lifeless embodiment of innocence cradled in his arms. The centre dropped to his knees, bending over the body of the young boy, the delinquent who had come to mean so much to all of them but especially to Courfeyrac.
Combeferre comforted his friend, holding him back as best he could as sobs shook them both. Enjolras squeezed Genevieve's hand harder.
"You at the barricades, listen to this," the voice of one of the soldiers in the guard said from down the street. "The people of Paris sleep in their beds. You have no chance - no chance at all. Why throw your lives away?"
Joly aimed his weapon at the guard, as did Marius. Enjolras looked to his love, who nodded reassuringly. An anger welled up inside the leader's soul, a burning sensation to carry out all that they could while they still could.
"Let us die facing our foes," Enjolras said, his brow a hooded mixture of hatred and determination, "make them bleed while we can."
"Make them pay through the nose," Combeferre joined in, once again showing his loyalty to the cause.
"Make them pay for every man," Courfeyrac chimed amid his bursts of tears.
"Let others rise to take our place," Enjolras said through gritted teeth as Genevieve handed him a loaded long-rifle and held his ankles as he stood, never leaving his side, as he took aim for the streets ahead, "until the earth is free!" Using her very words from something she had said to him long ago, Genevieve braced herself for the inevitable, both literally and figuratively.
"CANNONS!" the soldier from the guard called out, and the boys took their aim at the top of the pile, all of them ready for what was about to happen.
"Far right first," Marius cautioned to all those around him who would listen.
"FIRE!" Enjolras called out, and the boys fired their weapons, quickly reloading, taking aim, and firing once their leader gave them the go-ahead once more.
The cannon fired, but was absorbed by the mess of splintered wood. As the second cannon reloaded, the boys switched out their weapons for loaded ones as those behind the barricade, Genevieve included, loaded each weapon to wait and hand each off. It was a vicious cycle of firing and loading, and the ammunition soon ran out. With gunpowder too wet to fight with, the haze of smoke fizzled out as soldiers marched onto their position, armed to the teeth and ready to destroy them.
"There's more men!" Combeferre called out. "There are more men, Enjolras!"
"ADVANCE!" rang the call of the soldiers as they crawled atop the mass of furniture and the revolutionaries fired what weapons they hand, trying to avoid the bayonets at the ends of the weapons their adversaries presented.
Enjolras fought a few soldiers off on his own before hopping down to Genevieve's level, noticing that she'd been splashed with Marius's blood after his arm had been nicked by a passing bullet. He took her hand without a word and attempted to carry a gravely wounded Bahorel into the tavern, but he died in their arms as the clang of swords and the outcries of pain echoed in the alleys.
"Please!" Jehan cried helplessly, dirt-ridden and blood-stained as he pounded his fists against the doors of the citizens who watched the ordeal through closed windows and staunch oblivion to the terrors happening on the street below.
"Please!" Combeferre bellowed in his attempt to persuade the cowards otherwise, but it was to no avail as they were all forced into the tavern. Genevieve looked over her shoulder as she and Enjolras made their way inside of the tavern, watching wide-eyed as Feuilly was downed by a back-stabbing bayonet.
Horror reverberating in their souls, the remaining boys took shelter in the tavern, Bossuet being downed by a flyaway bullet ricocheting off the wall as they barricaded the door as best as they could. They pushed their way up the stairs to the second floor, all of them huddling in a circle in the center of the room as Enjolras smashed through the stairs in an attempt to keep them all away for as long as possible.
Going back over to Genevieve, he wrapped an arm around her, grabbing her free hand with his and pulled her into his side. The boys waited on in silence, breaths heavy, bodies sweaty, and hearts racing and pounding so loudly that they could all hear the fear as it panged against the walls and echoed inside of each mind.
The sound of the soldiers bursting through the tavern door silenced them all as they waited. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Then, everything.
Shots were fired, and Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Jehan dropped to the floor, dead. Genevieve fell against Enjolras and he caught her, noting on her lovely features that something was wrong.
"Enj..." she said, looking down at her body. His eyes, too, scanned her features, watching in the most painful kind of horror as a familiar, copper scent filled the air and a red mess of liquid broadened its stain against her once posh dress. She felt like fainting as her eyes met his and her hand pressed against her thigh, where the bullet had pierced the most important vein in the body. Her rapid loss of blood would fade her quickly, and all that Enjolras could do was cradle her in his arms as he leaned against the wall, supporting her with him, and hold her close.
"Genevieve," he whispered, feeling his heart shatter into pieces so minute that there would be no repairing them. He felt like he had failed her, like all he had done was let her down, and Enjolras made every attempt to stay strong. "Stay with me."
"As long as I can, I will," she managed, pain perforating her sentences as she clutched to him tightly. "I'm...I'm cold, Enj...so cold..."
"I'm here." He nodded, tilting her head back to look into her eyes. "I will not leave you."
"Enj..." He could see her chin quiver and felt her body shudder from the blood loss, her life-fluid now penetrating through the material of his trousers. "I do not want to die. We had so far to go - "
Enjolras nodded as the tears streamed down his face. "I should have left with you yesterday - I should have taken you away from this. You deserved a better, nobler death than here with me."
A faint smile painted itself across her lips, and he could feel his entire body shake with sobs as a glisten of light passed behind her eyes. "There is nowhere else I would rather be."
"Don't go, Nev. Please do not leave me here to die on my own. They will be up here soon - I do not want to go into the dark without you."
"You won't. I will be by your side. Dark or light..." She paused, her face wincing as her body struggled to stay alive. A puddle of her blood pooled gently at her feet as her clothing had become so saturated. "...I will be with you." Her smile faded. "What was it like, the life you imagined for us?"
"We are about to die. Does it matter?" She was about to verbally answer, but shuddered from the pain, so he pulled her closer and continued. "I would have married you, loved you, taken care of you, given you children. I dreamed of a house we would have built together, a cottage laced with ivy and daisies, your favorites. Summer days and sleepy winters we would have spent there together, cozy with our children as we teach them of the lives we once led, of the days here in our youth."
The smile returned to her lips, and Enjolras noticed that the luster they had possessed not one hour prior was fading, turning a hint of grey that killed him inside. "What a life we might have had." Her grip on his coat was failing her, loosening as her body reacted to the loss of its life-liquid's departure. Enjolras, in an attempt to dissuade her pain or to help her somehow, he grabbed the French flag from the floor, the one she'd warn around her nude body after they had made love the night before and draped it over her shoulders. "Patria always came between us and still does."
"Haven't you figured it out yet, Nev?" He sounded a bit more chipper than she expected. "You are Patria. You are the reason I fought, not her. Sure, she was the base, but you became her in your sacrifice. I will die beside my Patria, my faithful lover and the one thing I have only ever really believed in."
"I love you, Enj." Her chin quivered and tears escaped her eyes. "I don't want to leave you."
"And I love you." Enjolras shook his head. "I will miss you." He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers gently before pulling back slightly upon feeling her shudder again beneath his touch.
"I will miss you until we meet on the other side," she said, and he could finally hear the life leaving her voice. "Venus will always wait for her Adonis."
Enjolras couldn't smile at her literature reference as sobs shook his entire being, rattling his core and breaking him down into nothing as his body lurched and his mind froze. The sound of soldiers making their way up the stairs thudded against the hands of the lovers. They stood, his arms wrapped around her and the flag while he clutched the red flag - the red flag, the symbol of their entire purpose - in his other hand before grabbing her free appendage as well.
The soldiers entered the room, weapons drawn and aimed and Genevieve's head drooped to Enjolras's shoulder as he felt her life ultimately leaving her. She was drained of all that she had once been. Genevieve was gone.
Just when Enjolras was raring to die with the embodiment of Patria gracing his grasp, Grantaire pushed his way through the soldiers, his eyes red, puffy, and bloodshot from a stupor he had woken up in. He locked gazes with Enjolras and moved to stand beside Genevieve, helping him hold her between them as he turned and faced his death, ready to die.
Enjolras had never found himself to be more proud of a man he had always assumed was nothing more than a stubborn drunk. Instead, he showed his quality with the highest honor and Enjolras was proud to say he was dying beside a man who contradicted all prior knowledge. Silent tears streaked down the dirt-dusted cheeks of the blond leader as the red flag, clutched in his fist, was silently raised victoriously to the ceiling. A soft smirk upturned the corners of his mouth. He was ready, at last, to be one with the other side of this dimension, and with white puffs of haze and eight bullets to the chest, Enjolras died clutching the only two things that had ever mattered: the symbol of their revolution made evident with a blood-red flag, and Genevieve, the auburn-haired paragon of liberty, the woman he loved and cherished, and the perfect representation of all that he had given his life to preserve.
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-"Where am I?"
-"Right where you belong." A feminine voice rang in his ears, one that he had come to know all too well.
-"And where is that?"
-"Absorbed into freedom with those who fought for it." Turning around and facing the brightest, most garish white light had ever witnessed, Enjolras found himself face-to-face with Genevieve. As she had promised, she was waiting for him on the other side.
-"I missed you." He took her hands into his, squeezing as he felt a smile return to his face, a peace he had never known filling up the soul of the spirit he had left behind.
-"I promised I would be here." She smiled at him, and he marveled at how angelic she looked - he then realized how they both seemed to be dressed in classy shades of white, possible signs that they had left the earth and had been accepted into whatever form of heaven existed.
-"Where are we going?"
-"I don't know, but we are on our way." She smiled brighter, and he returned this as she started leading him away. "Come. The others have been waiting for your arrival."
-"And Grantaire?"
-"He was there long ago." They walked on and on - who knew how long since time was now irrelevant - and eventually the white light of entrance dissipated into nothing and revealed where they were headed. Up ahead, there were echoes of singing, flashes of red, white and blue, and the overwhelming sight of the barricade where their eternity was to be spent.
They were free.
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A/N: This story broke my heart to write, and I know it's SOOOOO LONG, but thank you for reading! Reviews are much-appreciated. :D