This is a collaboration between Wendla Bergmann and Citizeness Feuilly. We're going to be splitting the writing roughly 50/50 - try to guess who writes what! As always, reviews are not only welcome, but desperately wanted!
Marius slipped through the gates of the garden of the rue plumet, his thoughts on nothing but that Cosette was waiting for him. Beyond these few hours, there was nothing left. The guns in his pockets weighted his jacket down.
Cosette was not at the spot where she usually waited for him. He did not let that phase him- taking more steps into the garden, he found it to be empty. Marius moved branches of bushes back, as if she was hiding in the shadows. He walked around the huge oak tree in the middle, under which and Cosette had sat three nights ago and sheltered themselves from the rain. She was not there.
He turned to the bench- it was unoccupied.
But there was something there! Hope flew into Marius' heart, and he picked up a piece of paper, folded into a note. Instantly, he felt fear. What if this note was a goodbye? What if they'd left already? A chill pierced his heart. There was a feminine handwriting on the outside- it was addressed to him- well who else?. It was dark and hard to read, but Marius made out:
"My dearest, alas! my father insists on our setting out immediately. We shall be this evening in the Rue de l'Homme Arme, No. 7. In a week we shall be in England. COSETTE. June 4th."
Marius ran out of the garden as fast as he could.
When Marius arrived outside the rundown apartment, he was once again reminded of Cosette's financial situation. He knew she was not well off, but it was easy to forget in the beautiful rue plumet. Here, in an apartment that looked like it needed painting, it was clear his grandfather would never be persuaded. He only had to wait a few minutes before Cosette came running out.
She threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off her feet, his despair making him hold her all the more tightly, wishing he would never have to let her go.
"I missed you so much," he whispered, and kissed her cheeks, and her forehead, before tears escaped his eyes, knowing it was the last time he would hold her like this. He also cursed his hope from two nights before- he'd given up one of his last nights with Cosette to talk to his grandfather, and it had been a waste. What pushed him to believe his grandfather would ever be compassionate?
"Marius," she said through her own tears. When he finally put some space between them, she searched his face hopefully . But as soon as her gaze met his, the light vanished from her blue eyes. "Oh, my love, you don't have good news, do you?"
"I…" he started, but couldn't continue. He buried his head against her neck. "I don't want to leave at midnight," he said, changing the subject. "I only have one more night with you… can we stay out here until sunrise?"
"Yes… oh, goodness, if I could stop the sun from rising, I would," she beseeched. "Come, let's go around the corner, where we won't be seen." She led him away from the view of the windows of her apartment, and then they sat on the curb on the abandoned street. Neither seemed to notice or care about the distant sounds of strife in the distance. Indeed, neither flinched as the sounds of gunshots interrupted the silence of the night.
Cosette leaned against Marius, their bodies pressed together to the waist. She moved back almost immediately when she felt something solid and bulky on his side, pressed against her. The handle of something was sticking out of his pocket. Cosette reached for it, and pulled a pistol from Marius' pocket, her hands shaking.
Now, it was common for many men to have guns, but her father was not one of those men. She'd been taught only of the evil of violence, and the danger of weapons. In truth, Cosette had almost no experience with guns.
"What is this?" she asked, not understanding.
"Careful," he warned, and then took it from her, in case her shaking hands dropped it and set off an accidental shot. He set the gun on the pavement beside him.
"Marius," she began, her hands still shaking, "Why do you have that?"
His face crumpled one more, and he pulled her close. "I can't live without you Cosette, I just can't-"
"I cannot either," she said, a promise in her voice. "I don't see how I can go on without you, not for the rest of my life… it's impossible-"
"I know," he said, and put a hand on the back of her neck, touching her skin there, and brushing his lips against her hair. "I know. So…" he took a breath, and his tone lost all desperation. It dropped away to reveal a somber tone, so chilling that it seemed to echo the shadows of the grave and encompassed the true depth of the despair he was feeling. "I brought two."
Slowly, he pulled a second pistol from his pocket. "They each have two bullets, in case one doesn't fire."
That was when Cosette understood.
She stood, white as a ghost, and backed away from him, her legs feeling numb and not capable of holding her up.
"No!" she ordered, her voice weak, her eyes huge with terror. "No, Marius, no."
"Cosette, I can't live without you," he said pleadingly, setting the pistol beside the other one and standing up. He put his hands on her arms and looked straight into her eyes, as if seeing deeply into her, far past just eye contact.
"Marius…" she protested. "I can't do that. And I won't let you do it either. My father…"
"I love you so much," he said, not trying to persuade her, more as just an expression of thought. He felt so much despair at that moment that he desperately held onto any positive feeling, any at all. All people have felt this- the glimmers of humor and of light that are searched out in a dark room, despite hopelessness. Even though his love for Cosette was what was causing the pain, it was still the only happiness he had.
"And I love you," she said tearfully. "Which is why I won't let you do this. Oh, God, Marius, why does the world seem to be against us?"
"Please don't cry," he said, taking her hands gently, and pulling her to sit beside him again the curb. Tears came thick and fast from her eyes, until her cheeks were very wet and her shoulders shook with quiet, choked sobs. He brushed his thumb along one of her cheeks, brushing away the tears, but more just fell in their place. "Don't weep, my love… please don't weep."
"I don't want to leave you," she said through her tears, her voice thick and hoarse. She recognized how easy it would be, really, to just put one of Marius' guns to her head and end it then, the pain, the suffering, end it all, but she knew she never would. Worse than the immediate pain was the image of the future: bleak, blank, dark, cold, lonely.
She had never told Marius this, or even admitted it to herself, but in her most alone thoughts late at night, she'd imagined them as married, him as her husband, a father, she as a mother, their home, their life, their children. It didn't matter how many they had, they would love them all. It was what she most wanted, he could give her that. He could give her everything. She saw their days, happy, each day beginning and ending the same, and yet exciting and new and full of love. She saw herself tucking in children at night, and then going to sleep beside her husband, felt imaginary impressions of his kisses on her lips, imagined his hands on her skin…
But that future was gone. It would be just her, with her father. She could learn to be happy with her father, but what happened when he, too, was gone? She saw nothing in her future. A lifetime without Marius- the thought chilled her soul. After she'd met him, she saw no way to go on without him. The pain she was feeling now would be nothing to when she woke up the next day, with the knowledge she would never see him again. And it would never get any easier. Never.
The gun seemed promising- she would not have to suffer so. There would be no bleak, empty days, staring out windows, dreaming away her life, wishing she was in the past.
But no. She would not do it.
He leaned into her and kissed her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears on his lips. Watching her cry was like torture. Knowing her suffering was almost worse than imagining a life without her.
Oh, he couldn't do this. If he couldn't even watch her cry, there was no possibility that he could bring himself to harm her, or allow her to harm herself. Even if it meant they could be together, in death. He could not harm her.
But what would cause more harm to her; a quick death or a lifetime of suffering? If they were parted forever, surely the wound would be worse.
"I don't believe God brought us together only to have us watch as he tore us apart," Marius said, taking her hand and holding it tightly.
"Even after you left the other night," Cosette said, "I did not believe that I would lose you. I still had hope; I knew that it would be fixed, and that we could be together. But it doesn't seem that way anymore… my father and I leave in the morning. I don't see what we can do."
"Don't say that," he said, closing his eyes. "I had hope too. I went to my grandfather's for the first time in four years. I should have known he had lost all esteem for me- he hated my father, and now he hates me. He would not give me permission to marry. I have no fortune, neither have you. He laughed in my face at my request."
She bowed her head.
"Marius," she said with an air of finality. "I will never forget you. Not in ten years, not in forty years, not when I'm an old woman and not when I'm dying. You will always be the other half of my soul, and you'll always be with me-"
"I'm not ready to say goodbye yet," he said urgently, his hands on her waist gripping tightly, as if he could hold on to her presence purely by manpower. "I'll never be ready to lose you… but we don't have to say goodbye yet. Please don't. Say anything else, Cosette. Talk about anything. Tell me everything else about you, anything you haven't told me before. If I have to live without you, I need as much of you that I can have. Tell about your childhood, about your girlhood, about your dreams, anything. Just talk, my love, please, and I'll listen."