Chapter XI
Marius and Cosette were married in mid-September, and Gabrielle and Enjolras attended the affair only briefly. Enjolras pulled her out of the crowd and into a fiacre rather abruptly almost as soon as the dancing began, his face white and eyes troubled. He refused to say anything about their unexpected exit other than that he had spotted some people he didn't wish to talk to. Gabrielle thought it was rather something more than that, but left the matter alone.
The next day, a note arrived from Marius informing them of Cosette's father passing away, and Gabrielle spent the next few days with her new friend, consoling her in her grief. The funeral brought up some rather unpleasant feelings for Gabrielle, however, and she could tell Enjolras was struggling as much as she was.
That night she went to bed early and laid awake for hours, staring at the wall, and replaying the scene of the barricade in her mind. She had chosen Enjolras over her own brother, left his body there to be tossed aside by the merciless soldiers. Left him there to lay where he'd fallen. He didn't get to have a proper burial, a proper goodbye. She didn't even know where his final resting place was.
How could she have chosen Enjolras over her brother? Gabrielle buried her face in the pillow as a sob escaped her chest. She hadn't let herself think of these things since that day in June, had forced herself to put it out of her mind and move on. Now she couldn't stop thinking.
Stop it, she told herself. Of course you chose to save Enjolras. He was the only one alive. What kind of person would you be if you'd left him there to die?
Gabrielle stilled as she heard the bedroom door open and Enjolras come in. She took deep breaths, trying to still her shaking shoulders, and hoped that in the dark, Enjolras wouldn't notice her tears. She heard him undress and felt him climb into bed, but kept her back to him. She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears still kept coming.
"Gabrielle? Are you alright?" Enjolras whispered with concern.
She wiped her cheeks and managed to squeak, "I'm fine."
"No you're not," Enjolras said matter-of-factly, and Gabrielle let out a half-laugh, half-sob.
"No, I'm not," she agreed.
Enjolras didn't say anything, but sat up in bed, looking completely unsure what to do.
Gabrielle took a deep breath and sat up, as well. She could only imagine how she looked; her hair a mess, eyes swollen, nose red, skin blotchy. She didn't look beautiful when she cried like Cosette did.
"I'm sorry," she finally whispered. "It's just...today made me think of my brother. It made me miss him, and feel so horrible. I don't..." She swallowed, resisting more tears. "I don't know where he is buried."
Enjolras' eyes softened as he looked at her. "I know. I feel the same as you," he admitted. "I don't know where any of my friends are. Today was hard for me, too."
Gabrielle scooted closer and abruptly wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest. She felt his heart speed up against her cheek at the unexpected closeness, and she couldn't believe how bold she was being. But she needed it, had wanted to feel his arms around her, wanted some kind of physical comfort. She closed her eyes and didn't move, and soon she felt Enjolras' arms tentatively pulling her closer and holding her securely to his body.
He rested his chin on the top of her head and Gabrielle's tears soon subsided. It felt wonderful, being so close, fitting against him so perfectly. She began to feel more at ease, and eventually, pulled away just a little bit to look up at him. He looked back at her intently, and a little nervously, she thought.
He lifted a hand and brushed her hair back from her face, letting his fingers sift through the dark strands of her hair. She felt his hands on the sides of her neck, his thumbs gently wiping the rest of the tears from her cheeks. She smiled a little, surprised at how gentle his touch was.
"Thank you," she whispered, and he nodded, letting his hands fall slowly back to his sides.
Gabrielle scooted away and climbed under the covers as Enjolras did the same. Instead of turning away as she usually did, however, she lay on her side and faced him, and he turned to look back at her. They studied each other in the darkness, and soon, Gabrielle felt his hand envelope her own under the covers. She squeezed, feeling something beginning to shift between them. It was unexpected, but felt comfortable.
"You were brave that day," Enjolras finally spoke. "I can't imagine what it must have taken to get me out of there, and to leave your brother behind. I owe you my life, Gabrielle."
"You do," she admitted, and smiled a little. "But it wasn't a hard choice to make. My brother would have wanted me to save anyone I could have. And I'm glad it was you."
"You miss him terribly, though," Enjolras said sadly.
"Of course I do. But, as Musichetta has told me before, life goes on. We can't let grief consume us or we waste our lives. I do wish I had something to remember him by, though." Gabrielle closed her eyes, picturing her favorite fan in the shop window, the one she had seen that day after the barricade, of Orpheus and the water nymphs.
"You have nothing of his?" Enjolras sounded a bit shocked.
"No. He lived above the shop, and I had no keys. I went by once, when you were still very ill, but it was locked. I would assume his things have been sold or thrown away by now," she said sadly.
Enjolras frowned. "He did such beautiful work."
"He did. There was a fan in the window," Gabrielle sighed. "It was perfect, I think my favorite that he's ever painted. I wish I could have taken it somehow."
"What did it look like?"
Gabrielle described the scene, the way the colors blended together on the soft silk, the little bit of lace around the edge. Even if she never saw it again, she would never forget what it looked like.
They talked for an hour or so more before finally drifting off the sleep, their hands still intertwined.
The next morning, Gabrielle woke up to find Enjolras already gone. She blinked in the cracks of sunlight drifting in through the shutters and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Had last night really happened? Had they actually touched, held each other, for several minutes? She didn't think it was dream, but if it was, it had been a rather good one.
Gabrielle rose and dressed. She ate breakfast, straightened the apartment, including all of the books that had found their way to the floor, and then looked around for something else to do. While she was immensely grateful that she didn't have to go back to the factory, she did have to admit that she was getting a little bored.
She was saved from her contemplation by a knock on the door. When she opened it, a young gamin stood on the other side.
"Are you Madame Enjolras?" he asked.
"Yes, I am. What brings you here?" she asked curiously.
"I have a letter for you." He held it out and then stood waiting for his payment.
Gabrielle eyed his ragged appearance. "Have you eaten today?"
He shook his head. "No. But if you give me a few sous, I'll be able to."
"Will you come in and eat breakfast with me?"
He looked wary. "But you'll still pay me, too, right?"
Gabrielle laughed and nodded. "Yes, of course I will."
"Well, alright then." The little boy stepped into the apartment and looked around.
Gabrielle watched him for a minute, then began gathering a few things for breakfast. They had almost a whole loaf of bread and some pastries left over from the day before. Gabrielle laid them on the table and the boy set to devouring them.
As he ate, Gabrielle unfolded the letter, taking in the signature at the bottom. It was signed "Genevieve Durand," and Gabrielle's eyes widened. What in the world could she want?
Gabrielle read, surprised to see Madame Durand requesting her presence for lunch at the Café de Flor. She knew where it was, though she had never been there.
"Bad news?" the little gamin asked, eyeing Gabrielle's letter.
"Oh, no. Not really. Just a bit unexpected." Gabrielle folded the letter back up and sat down across from the boy. "What is your name?"
"Henri," he said around a massive bite of bread.
Gabrielle resisted telling him to mind his manners, as she would have with Armand. "And how old are you, Henri?" He looked to be no more than ten.
He shrugged. "Dunno."
"Oh. Where do you stay?"
He raised his eyebrows, looking like that was a rather stupid question. "Wherever I feel like it when I want to go to sleep."
"That sounds reasonable," Gabrielle muttered. She rose and went into the bedroom to get some money for him.
He was finished with his breakfast and standing by the table when she came back out. She handed him what he was due and he flashed her a grin.
"Thank you for keeping me company, Henri," Gabrielle said gently.
He looked a bit uncomfortable, but replied, "Sure. Thanks...for the food. And the money. If you ever need any messages delivered, I'm usually around somewhere out there." He gestured to the window and then walked to the door, waving at her over his shoulder.
She watched him go, feeling pity, and thinking of Gavroche, the young gamin that used to follow the Les Amis everywhere they went. Even he had died on the barricade. It was horrible, Gabrielle thought, all of the children starving on the streets of Paris, with no parents to love them, no education available, and no jobs once they grew up. They were born just to suffer and die. She shuddered, then remembered the letter from Genevieve Durand.
She had nothing better to do than meet her for lunch, she supposed, so she began getting ready.
When Gabrielle arrived at the Café de Flor, she found Madame Durand already waiting for her. Gabrielle greeted her cordially and they sat at a little table by a window, looking out at the crowded street.
"I am glad you are able to join me, Gabrielle. I know my invitation was rather abrupt."
"I was surprised," Gabrielle admitted. "But I seem to have a lot of time on my hands lately, so it wasn't unwelcome." She smiled, feeling somewhat intimidated by the older woman.
"I apologize if I startled you at the dinner party several weeks ago," Madame Durand began softly. "It is not that I don't trust my husband's judgment when it comes to who he hires, but I do like to make sure he hasn't made any mistakes. He hasn't, has he?"
Gabrielle raised her eyebrows at Madame Durand's bluntness, bristling a little bit at what she perceived to be somewhat of an insult towards Enjolras. "Absolutely not. My husband is a wonderful man."
"And also quite an inspiring leader, from what we have heard." Madame Durand smiled and then said sympathetically, "What happened in June was horrible. Absolutely horrible, and I'm very sorry for the loss your husband endured. I am sure he still keenly feels the defeat."
"Yes. He lost his best friends, as well as his dream. He carries immense guilt. My brother was killed there, as well."
Madame Durand's eyes softened. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Gabrielle, I had no idea. And please, call me Genevieve."
Gabrielle nodded, looking at her curiously. She was a very hard woman to read, and held herself with a sort of regal grace. She couldn't have been more than forty, Gabrielle guessed, but she seemed even older in a way, due to her confidence and straight-forward bearing.
"Now," Genevieve continued. "You may be wondering why I asked you to lunch today?"
"Very much so."
"Well. I must admit I am curious about your husband's future plans. Does he intend to lead any more rather conspicuous revolutions?"
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes, feeling insulted again at the touch of disdain she heard in Genevieve's voice. "Not that I am aware of, no."
"Good. That really won't do. He is young and full of fire, and it admittedly does take men like him in power in order for change to take effect, but..." Genevieve shrugged. "Our last revolution didn't go so well, did it? I don't think anyone wants to see the guillotine back in fashion. And I do not believe this country is ready for such an event to take place, unfortunately."
"Forgive me, Genevieve," Gabrielle began uncertainly, resisting the urge to argue with the woman, "but...what is your point? What do you want from me?"
"Your help, of course. You mentioned you may be interested in charity work?"
Gabrielle rose her eyebrows. From insulting her husband to asking for help in the same conversation. "Perhaps...what do you have in mind?"
"Well, first let me say that your husband's uprising halted our plans for a quite a while. With all of that unrest, our...let me say, softer approach to the problem was a bit interrupted. Many people didn't want to be implicated if things got bad, you see, so they refused to help us. Now that a few months have gone by, we think it may be time to try again."
Gabrielle was intrigued despite herself. "What kinds of things are you planning to do?"
"Provide meals, for one. Provide clothing. Provide shelter. All of that is a rather tall order, considering how many are in need in this city, but I believe until those basic essentials are met, nothing else can be done."
"How exactly do you plan to do all of this?"
Gabrielle was skeptical, but thought of Henri, the little boy who had delivered the letter that morning, and wondered how much it would change his life if he had a clean, safe place to sleep every night and a guaranteed meal every day.
"Before I go into too many details, does this sound like something you would like to be a part of? That your husband would want to contribute to?"
Gabrielle was silent for a moment, and knew she couldn't speak for Enjolras. "I would like to, yes. That is, if I can learn more about how it can be done. My brother was passionate about helping the less fortunate and I would like to continue his work. But I cannot speak for my husband, as I know he would never speak for me."
Genevieve smiled. "That makes you a fortunate woman then, Gabrielle. And I am glad you are interested in joining us. Now, please, tell me a bit about yourself. Are you from Paris?"
Gabrielle and Genevieve talked as they ate, and Gabrielle soon relaxed a little bit. She didn't necessarily open up, but she answered questions patiently and revealed as much information about herself as she dared. If they did begin working together, Genevieve would certainly learn more in time, anyway.
That night, Gabrielle lay awake in bed, debating on whether or not to tell Enjolras about her lunch with Genevieve. Being married didn't mean he had to know every little thing she did all day, he had said so himself. Still, Genevieve was the wife of his future employer and current professor, and they had talked about things that would probably interest Enjolras.
Or bring up less than pleasant feelings and make him retreat into himself and further away from her.
Still...
"Antoine? Are you awake?"
"Hmm?" He lay on his stomach, his head turned away from her, in a pose that had become rather familiar. He reminded her of a child, sleeping like that, and she found it endearing.
"I had lunch with Genevieve Durand today," she said quietly.
He turned his head toward her, curiosity in his eyes. "How did that come about?"
"Well, she sent a note with a boy...first, I gave him breakfast, but in the note, she asked me to go to lunch," Gabrielle rambled in her usual way.
Enjolras patiently interrupted her. "Wait, what? You gave breakfast to a boy?"
Was that amusement on his face?
"Well yes," she said defensively. "He was young, couldn't have been more than ten years old. And he reminded me of Gavroche."
Enjolras' lip curled up in a smile and he turned on his side, propping himself on his elbow to see her better. "Right. Go on."
"So, anyway, she asked to meet for lunch, and I went. We had a rather interesting conversation. She's a very hard woman to read, isn't she?"
Enjolras nodded. "Yes, I thought so. What did you speak about?"
"Well...that's the part you may not be happy about. Not that I'm concerned whether or not you agree with me participating, because I will do what I want, and I certainly don't need your approval..."
Enjolras interrupted her again, this time by reaching out and putting his hand over her mouth. But he was grinning, and Gabrielle found it made her heart flutter in her chest. "You're good at avoiding the point, Gabrielle," he said.
She glared at him, playfully swiping his hand away. "Really, Antoine, it is rather serious."
"Then say it."
"She told me your revolution interrupted some of the work they had begun, but that they wanted to start up again. She asked me to join."
Enjolras didn't say anything, and Gabrielle couldn't really read his expression in the dark.
"What sort of work?" he finally asked. "Is it dangerous?"
"No. They want to provide food and shelter."
"For all of the homeless in Paris? I wish them luck," Enjolras muttered.
"Don't be so negative, Antoine. Even helping just a few is better than doing nothing at all."
"Do you intend to join them?"
"Yes, I think so," Gabrielle admitted. "I need something to occupy my time, and my brother so wanted things to change. I know it won't happen overnight, and there will always be those that need help...but that just means there must also be those willing to help them. Don't you think so?" Gabrielle pressed gently.
"I don't know anymore, Gabrielle. And please don't press the issue. Of course, you may do as you please, though."
Gabrielle could detect a tone of finality in his voice, and she knew that he would not budge on the issue any more, at least not tonight. Maybe eventually he would come around, especially if he saw what she was doing making a difference.
"I won't bother you about it, Antoine. But I wanted you to know. You may feel differently one day."
They looked at each other intently for several moments, and Gabrielle could feel the intensity of his gaze even in the dark. He finally closed his eyes, and after a minute, Gabrielle did the same. She soon felt his fingers intertwine with hers, however, and fell asleep with a smile on her face.
THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! Wow, seriously. I can't even...you guys are incredible.
I must admit, though...this is the last chapter I have written before a big gap, and then the end of the story is done, so it might be a few more days between chapters than it has been.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter.
~A