NOTE TO MY WONDERFUL READERS: THIS EXTRA WAS MEANT TO TAKE PLACE BEFORE THE NEXT ONE I'M RELEASING (AKA "MEET THE BEAUCHENE'S"); BUT DUE TO POOR PLANNING ON MY PART, THIS ONE IS COMING OUT FIRST. PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND; AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE FIRST E/DS FOR PASSION FOR PATRIA! ~DONJUANA
Extra 1: Trials, Tribulations, and a Battle of Sentiments: "Many are stubborn in pursuit of the path they have chosen, few in pursuit of the goal." -Friedrich Nietzsche; "Prejudice and passion and suspicion are more dangerous than the incitement of self-interest or the most stubborn adherence to real differences of opinion regarding rights."- Elihu Root; "Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail our lion now will foreign foes assail."- John Dryden; "The Self-Educated are marked by stubborn peculiarities."- Isaac Disraeli
When you have two dancing, ardent flames; it will never be long before they clash and burn uncontrollably… and it will be shorter still before they are abruptly doused, left to gaze in horror at the destruction they hath left. ~DonJuana
Enjolras stepped out of the old boathouse, a smile etched into his face. He'd been without the thrilling adrenaline of a good, intellectual debate for a few months now; besides the good-natured, teasing ones he'd exchanged with Lynette. And as amusing as they were, it felt good to be back in organized meetings of lively outlooks. It also reminded him of his times with his brothers of the barricade—the ones he so deeply grieved, even now—and it provided him with great solace. He found comfort in his new friends' similarities to his late, and in the jovial aides-mémoires they constantly engendered.
He'd first met the newfound partisans of freedom while on an errand for Lynette; she'd had a terrible chest cold and was bored out of her mind just sitting around in their flat—not to mention irritated with her inability to do anything productive. So, he'd gone out to get her some medicine from their friend Madame Desmarias (bringing some candies for little Angelika), before hitting the streets for something to entertain her. During this search, he'd entered a tiny bakery, meaning to walk in, buy her some dark chocolates, and walk right out again. But after he'd purchased these favorable gifts, he'd picked up a rather interesting conversation taking place near the door.
"Alright Chassé; down by the pier then?"
"Exactly. I'm glad to have you men there; I always love conversing and listening to the ideas of fresh, adroit minds."
"And we're glad to be there, my friend. It isn't every day we get to openly express our opinions of the vileness of the government with others."
Enjolras's ears had perked up at this mention. There were others heatedly displeased with oppression?
At first he was a bit angry; if they truly had this mindset, why had they not come forward to assist Les Amis in battle but months before? But the longer he thought about it, the easier it was to decide that they had most likely not known about it. He then risked a peek at these unfamiliar, rebellious strangers; startled to see their creased, rather aged faces. He'd grown used to the image of spirited, robust young men when speaking of this passion of his, and these men looked to be in their middle ages at the youngest. As he curiously made this deduction, he hardly noticed that the three had stopped their whispered conversation to stare at him until he'd locked eyes with one of them. He blinked once and turned away, not wanting them to think he'd been eavesdropping… in disapproval, anyway. But it was too late; he'd already been realized. "You boy! Come here!" the second man to speak barked, glaring at Enjolras. Enjolras felt a slight heat rise to his cheeks as he nodded curtly and stepped toward them, though he cursed himself for doing so and pulled his shoulders back, assuming him confident, frontrunner persona. He looked the man who'd called him forward right in the eye, not daring to send them downcast as he was sure the elder wanted him to. After a few moments of seeing the boldness of this snooping emissary, the man inquired with slit eyes, "Were you just listening in to our conversation?"
"Indeed I was." Enjolras responded casually.
His adversary looked taken aback. What kind of game was he playing, admitting to his sly action up front? "And… what was it you heard?" he continued, regaining his guarded guise.
"That you three men, and perhaps others, are discussing the very things
I had a few months ago." Enjolras retorted with utmost composure. All three pairs of eyebrows shot up. "Oh?" The first man to speak questioned, leaning forward.
"Yes. Tell me gentlemen; have you happened to have heard of Les Amis de l'ABC?" Enjolras posed.
"No, that does not sound familiar." The man who'd until then remained silent said after a moment. He seemed to be the gentlest of the trio; for he'd remained questioning but not accusatory in expression the entire, tense conversation.
"Well a few months ago I devised and led a rebellion against the National Guard for the very purpose of earning freedom from oppression." Enjolras explained, trying not to let his pride in the statement shine forth.
"Really? And the results were?" The sympathetic man asked with caution. For the first time, Enjolras looked down. "Well, we showed them that we were a tougher opponent than primarily noted… but that's unfortunately all we had the chance to show them." All three men nodded in respectful remorse. "We're sorry to hear that." The kind man murmured.
"This is exactly why we keep our meetings inert and absolutely classified though, gentlemen;" the second man said gravely, "so that no duplicities or aggressive acts cause such an unnecessarily vehement chain reaction."
"Chassé," the benign man hissed, "that is a rather insensitive statement."
Enjolras couldn't help it; he laughed aloud. It was a dictation so akin to one that would come from Jean-Prouvaire's lips that he didn't know whether to feel frightened, depressed, or ecstatic. Those facing him eyed him curiously. "Are you… quite well, Monsieur?" the first to speak asked warily.
"Oh yes, forgive me. It's just… your conscientiousness of my sentiments reminded me of one of my deceased friends. He was quite the poet, you see." Enjolras elucidated.
"Ah. And he was… one of those killed in the battle?" the benevolent one inquired with a sad sort of look in his eye. Enjolras simply nodded in return. The others nodded, but said nothing more of the subject. A period of silence set in then, the group staring uncomfortably at each other. But it was abruptly broken by the second man saying, "Forgive me Monsieur, but I have one last question. How is it we know you're telling the truth? Wouldn't an uprising of this magnitude be known throughout all of France?"
"Well, it was not as vast as you would think. But go out onto these very streets right now and ask the citizens about it, and each and every one will get a mix of guilt, pity, and reverence in their eyes." Enjolras responded austerely. He was no longer questioned after that, for all knew that such a claim could not be countered. He'd been formally introduced to the men, the benevolent being Beaupré, the second to speak and seemingly the leader Chassé, and the last being Gorneau. They'd told him where they'd been meeting, and he'd walked out of the bakery with a certain swing to his step. He was back.
As he reminisced over this first meeting in his head, his mind jumped to the notions and opinions they'd just exchanged. They'd been fascinating; most views and points in contradiction of the bureaucrats that he'd never thought of before. His new acquaintances had all acquired full educations in their lives, as apposed to the intelligent but shifty and varying erudition of the students. It was glorious being a part of their debates; he was feeling that intoxicating electrical charge he'd once felt for his revolt once more.
But in all truth, that was not all he was feeling. He was a tad bit uneasy as well. He knew how easily these things could get out of hand, even if they did start out little more than docile discussions. He was no longer the leader, no longer in control of the others' actions. If someone made a wrong move… someone did something reckless…
It would be death for them all, especially so soon after another revulsion.
He shook away the unnerving thought. He mustn't think that way. Chassé seemed like a perfectly responsible leader, and he had to trust that his age and experience would keep everything tranquil. As he walked down the quiet street, he tried to clear his head, looking up at the sky. It was inky, black, and cloudy, and upon resting his gaze upon it, he remembered Lynette. What time had he told her he should be home by?
Merde.
He began jogging up the street, everything else forgotten besides the cul-à fouetter he was going to receive should he be late, causing Lynette to panic. Because now, after all they'd been through, if she found out her panic had been for nothing, she grew livid.
With this mindset and quickened pace, he came upon his tenement in no time. He rushed up the stairs, taking a moment to slow his accelerated breathing before putting the key in the lock and forcing himself to calmly and slowly open the door. He stepped inside in this same way, holding back a sigh of relief when he saw Lynette serenely sitting in one of the chairs at the table, only looking up when he walked in.
"Good evening, Enjolras." she said, and he had to bite back a laugh at the prim tone of her voice. She was never this serious when he returned home; she must've been toying with him. "Why so stiff, Netta?" he joked teasingly, grinning and leaning up against the door.
"It is late. I'm tired." She replied simply, expression unchanged.
"You didn't have to wait up for me, you know." He said, smiling softly at her.
"I know. I wanted to." She responded with the same, impartial expression. His grin widened and he walked over to her, pulling her up out of her seat and snaking his arms around her waist. "I appreciate that." He whispered, leaning in closer. Suddenly, she pulled away, leaving him slightly unbalanced and more than so befuddled. Something was wrong; the tension was emanating from her like candlelight. "What's wrong?" he asked concernedly.
"Aren't you going to tell me where you were?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow accusingly. He faltered, heart rate quickening. Is that what this was about? "Just running a few errands." He lied swiftly, and the very effortlessness of it frightened him.
"So late at night? Were they really that crucial?" she asked, cocking her head. Her eyes bore into him, and as she stared her temper began to bubble. Why was he evading the truth?
"I wouldn't call them crucial…" Enjolras began, trying desperately to stall. But she cut him off.
"Then what manner were they of?"
By now it was obvious to him that she knew something, and his face fell slightly from the smile he'd so willingly put on but minutes before. "That doesn't matter." He muttered, trying to keep his tone from becoming a subtle declaration of his guilt.
"Yes it d—"
"I'm here now, am I not? That's all that matters." He cut her off, forcing a smile.
"I understand that. I am only inquiring as to where it was you were that kept me waiting so long." Lynette continued, eyebrows arched, refusing to back down. So like her.
He quickly scoured his mind for an excuse, desperately hoping he'd come up with something substantial enough that even she found it believable. He couldn't worry her, especially when there was nothing to worry about. "I went to the library. I was scanning their new titles for some fresh reading material for you and I." He huffed, hiding his unease with mock-exasperation. Lynette could no longer take it. He was lying to her! Could he not tell that she knew where it was he'd really been by the look on her face, her pressing questions? "Why do you insist on lying to me?" she burst, eyes flashing in anger. Enjolras sighed. It had been a good effort, but there was no getting past her. "Alright, you caught me. I wasn't at the library." He said sheepishly, suddenly wishing in the midst of his defeat that he had not lied in the first place. Why would she have any reason to shout at something they both held so highly?
When he glanced back up at her, her eyes were slit and her jaw tight. "And must I really ask where you truly were? How many men are there this time? How far into strategies are you?" she hissed coldly. He exhaled, saying, "It isn't like that. We're not planning a battle."
"Perhaps not, but it won't stay that way for long. Face it, Enjolras. Whenever you get started with something like this, you will stop at nothing to see it to the end!" she exclaimed, teeth clenched.
"Yes, I do care for it. But you shouldn't worry, Lynette. There's nothing inciting about this." He said evenly, hoping a calm approach to her lashing temper would appease her as well.
"Nothing like this ever goes without a spark. I'm just as experienced as you are with these rebellious acts, remember?" she growled, emphasizing the first word. Despite his efforts to remain completely neutral, his fingers clenched for but a moment as irritation set in. "Perhaps, but this one is different. This one is passive. There's no need to get worked up." he grimaced.
"No need to get worked up? Oh no, it's just my fiancé going out and risking his neck in his second act of rebellion!" she snapped, sarcasm coating her words so amply it practically stung. Enjolras threw out his hands in vexation. "I can't believe you're snapping at me. There's no risk, Lynette, because the meetings are peaceful. I'm just trying to do something for my country!" he retorted, voice rising slightly.
"Well if that something is going to land you in prison—"
"It won't."
"That's not true! They're de novo on the lookout for rebels, Enjolras, because you just led another revolution! You're going to get caught and they're going to take you away from me!" her voice broke during this bellowed dictation, and for the first time since this little dispute began, he saw something other than anger on her face. Terror.
But he glimpsed it too late to feel guilty for the statement already flooding out of his mouth. "What about you? What ever happened to your undying love for France? Whatever happened to that unquenchable passion for justice you claimed to hold in your heart?"
The fear disappeared, eyes once again narrowing to slits. "What are you saying?" she asked coolly.
"I'm saying, Lynette, that the woman I fell in love with would not be sitting here reprimanding me for something we both so strongly believe in." he replied, mirroring her tenseness, voicing his aforementioned thought. There was a moment of silence between them, the shock plastered all over her face too evident to even attempt to hide. But after a moment, she responded in a low but still quite harsh voice, "Oh… so now I am no longer the woman you love?"
Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose, too irritated to do anything else. "You know that's not what I meant. I simply—"
"Oh, do I? Because that's certainly what it sounded like, Enjolras!" she spat, cutting him off. That brought him over the edge. She hadn't let him finish one sentence this entire time, and he was not going to put up with it. "Damn it, Lynette! Let me finish!" he shouted, teeth grit and eyes flashing dangerously; like burning embers. Lynette was stunned into silence, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He took advantage of the silent moment he'd gained, saying, "I simply meant that I was shocked that you were so against the very thing we put before even our lives but months ago. Why is that?"
His question seemed to snap her out of her shock, because subsequent to it her stare froze over once again. "Because Fate steered me in another direction. Because I have been faced with death. Because though I long for the liberation of the people, I know that they have reached a point of apathy that prevents them from fighting against their bondages; and that we cannot lift them up if they won't stretch out their hand. Need I go on?"
Enjolras shook his head in a nearly disgusted belief. "I cannot believe what I'm hearing. You're giving up? Surrendering to oppression and misery?"
"Have you so soon forgotten the last time? Forgotten the men who died because of you?" she yelled suddenly, venom dripping from her tone. Now it was Enjolras's turn to fall silent in incredulity as old wounds resurfaced and throbbed. Had she really just pulled that one out? Had she truly just stooped so low? He was now physically trembling in anger and hurt, and he whispered, "They gave their lives heroically and I'd have gladly done the same. It was for Patria."
"And what about me? What about the words you so tenderly whispered in my ear barely a month ago? I am your new Patria, eh? I wonder how many other things you've told me were as empty." She glared, the severity she was so luridly displaying disguising the pain she felt at the thought. She'd taken those words to heart… she never dreamed they could turn out false.
"My words are empty? What about you? You, with your speeches and rallies, which all halt and scatter in fear when the chance finally comes to take action!" Enjolras barked angrily.
"I did take action! I took action the second I joined Les Amis! I knew nothing of you and your men, yet I joined your rankings without hesitation! How's that for a service to your country?" she screamed, suddenly jolting forward so that her face was right up in front of his. He could practically feel the irate heat rising off of her, as if the fire inside of her was swelling and burning uncontrollably. Abruptly, a new thought emerged alongside the rage bubbling up inside Enjolras, and he straightened, trying to make space between them, but not daring to step back, lest it be a sign of submission. He glared down at her coldly from his full height, shaking his head in malice, "You are such a hypocrite. You say you love Patria, then sit back and do nothing when she is in a time of most desperate need. I hope you realize that makes you no better than those citizens who abandoned us."
He thought he saw her eyes glitter with despondency, but he must have been imagining it; for the next second, all that was left was pure fury. She kept opening her mouth, then closing it again; as if she could not come up with a response spiteful enough to counter his rash statement. He'd just affronted her talent for speech, one of the most petulant subjects he could've dared mention. And she was so irate that she felt she could have breathed fire. Finally, after a minute or two of this tacit feeling of resentment and duplicity, she whispered, "I do hope you'll forgive me, Monsieur, for worrying for a man who has already evaded a close death once, since I know that another such prevarication is about a thousand to one. But calling me a hypocrite for that action is the most impertinent thing you could have said to me. But, then again, so is your doubting my passion for Patria."
"Your words are empty and meaningless without actions to accompany them," Enjolras said sharply, quite past the point of watching his tongue. No sooner had the words left his lips, the anger left her face completely, shock and a hint of despair the only things left in her countenance. She looked down at nothing in particular for a moment, eyes glazing over. "Meaningless,"' She breathed, the weak utterance quavering. When she looked up again; angry, horrified tears were so clearly residing in her oceanic eyes that there was absolutely no hiding them. She was silent, but from her expression of complete, tortured disbelief, he knew that she had been wounded so deeply by his words that she could not even be livid anymore. The anguished look on her radiant face made him waver in his ire, and he began thinking over the things he'd just said. He'd just been so boiling… he could hardly even remember. It was as if he'd completely lost himself in the duration of the dispute.
She cut off his train of thought, taking in a shuddering breath before looking him in the eyes and articulating, "I think… I think we moved too quickly with this relationship."
That moment cleared whatever was left of the irritation in his encumbered head. That moment made him realize exactly what it was he'd just said to her. That moment completely wiped away all of the seething rage that had just augmented inside of him and made him see that he had just delivered a blow so severe, it had brought her to this. And in that moment, he could feel the fuming flush leave his face as he paled. What had he done?
"No Lynette, please. I'm sorry."
She snorted, but it cracked pathetically, revealing that not even her masterful sarcasm could mask her true feelings. And even had it, they were written all over her face. "It's a bit late for that." She muttered, turning her back to him.
"No, Lynette! Please, I was just frustrated! I didn't mean it!" he pleaded, reaching for her. But, as if sensing him, she instantly stepped just out of reach. "No. You weren't just frustrated; those words did have substance behind them. Because they had to have begun as a thought, however fleeting, before finally finding the chance to be voiced." She retorted back, voice heavy laden with dejection and perfidy.
"No! Lynette, you must know how your words set me aflame! The statement was born in an inferno of wrath, nothing more." He implored desperately, trying to stop her slight inching towards the door. She laughed weakly, but it did not reach her eyes and ended in a choked sob. "Perhaps it was, or perhaps this latter was simply verbalized so that you would stop fighting me. We will never know without listening to your direct thoughts; something impossible to all but One. That's not my point. My point is that we've only known each other for a few months, and we're planning to be married? Living together when trust is not present?"
"Of course we have trust! It was one of the first things we did establish!" Enjolras reminded hopefully.
"Then why could you not even tell me where it was you were? Why did you go as far as to lie to me?" she whispered. His gaping mouth held no response for a moment, and his heart lurched as he watched her walk over to one of the dressers and grab her bag. "I'm just going to leave." She murmured, voice quaking dangerously. He watched her in a sort of haze for a few moments as she packed up the majority of her things, incredulous to the point of near denial that she was really, truly leaving him. How could this be happening?
And why was he standing here like an idiot, letting it?
As she finished and began towards the door, he caught her by the forearms, forcing her to look him in the eyes. His own started to welled up as he looked at her doleful, wretched expression, and he just barely managed, "Please. Please don't do this. I love you!" she pulled herself away, looking down. "Then why would you say that? Why would you dare cross one of the most sensitive lines I've drawn?" she responded, voice rising like that of a child. A lump of shame formed in his throat, preventing him from answering. And even if his gullet had been clear, he was not sure he could have found the words.
She closed her eyes as he fell silent, saying, "That's right. Perhaps… with time I'll… just, goodbye, Enjolras." And then, a moment later, she was gone; leaving him standing there, limp and numb, unaware of anything other than the roaring pain emanating where his heart should be, and the empty air before him where she'd once stood.
A/N: Hello, my lovely readers! Here it is; the first chapter to the first Extra for Passion for Patria!
What's this? Chapters you say?
Yes. I started this one… then just kept writing, and writing, and writing. And it turned out around ninety pages! :O So, it will be released in chapters.
Another note: music immensely inspires my writing, and one of my favorite bands is the Script. And as I was listening to some of their songs, I realized that almost every one reflected Enjy and Netta's situation for this story. Just some food for thought! X)
Uh oh… this doesn't look good. In fact, this looks as if this is going to be a very angsty Extra. I'm warning you now, dear readers.
I hope this is everything y'all expect! R&R and tell me your thoughts, critiques, and even just about your day! I just adore hearing from you all so much! ~DonJuana
