Hi all! Sorry for the time off... life calls! Also, "Torn Apart" was not updated... I don't know why it got bumped. I went into the control panel for it, and for some reason it said it was updated. SORRY! No. But this one is!

Enjoy!


"What ever do you mean?" Marie said, her voice choked.

"I mean what I said," Jean said, staring at the ceiling. "He's in this group. He's one of the leaders. He got me into it."

"No- you're lying," Marie said cruelly, though she already knew it was true. She's seen Jacques at that cafe. She'd heard his frightened reaction when he heard about Jean's arrest. "He's not like that. He's never even talked to me about politics- and if he knew you, he'd say-"

"No, not if we both decided not to tell you!" Jean said, sitting up. "You heard me say that none of us know each other's names. It's true; at least until he saw me outside that cafe, and he knew I was Pontmercy. He never mentioned it to me, though. Then you invited him for dinner, and I knew who he was. That night at the meeting-"

"You had a meeting that night?" Marie asked, trying to piece the sequence together.

"Yes, just listen, won't you? We decided not to tell you that we knew each other. Bad idea, we didn't want you involved."

"Well, don't bother trying to keep me out," Marie said bitterly. "I want nothing to do with this!"

She was halfway to the door when she stopped. Without turning around, she asked, "Why didn't you give him away to Maman and Papa?"

Jean didn't answer for a long time. Marie was tempted to turn around, but did not.

"You didn't need to get in trouble, too," he said simply.

Marie nodded, and left.


Marie received a note from Jacques the next day. He calmly asked her if she and her father- or anyone from their family, all were welcome- would like to come to his mother's home for dinner the following evening. Marie was tempted to rip the note without replying, but she remembered she had nothing against his mother. She penned a cool reply, and declined.

The next day she received another note. Had he done something to offend her?

And the toxic: How was her brother?

He should know, Marie thought bitterly. He is the one who got him into this mess! He's the one who lied to me this whole time!

For two weeks, she ignored his notes, which came more and more frequently. Her father noticed, but seemed smug about it.

Marie over heard him say to her mother: "I told you. She's young- he's still head over heels for her, and she has already turned her back on him. I knew she'd recover."

Victoire, who had become very taken with Jacques, asked about him. Marie told her to stick her nose somewhere else. When her mother asked gently why she did not reply to Jacques' notes or extend another dinner invitation, Marie informed them that she'd been wrong about him. He was not the kind of man she thought he was.

In a flight of vengeance three weeks into receiving the letters, she returned his ring in an envelope. Maybe he would understand then.


"Gravitte is a very good friend of mine," Marius promised his son. "You are in the best of hands. Just tell them what you've told us- you were young, you were pushed into it. You might have to do some service, we'll pay a fine, it will be behind us, it won't be on your record. But keep in mind, Jean, I have not forgotten."

Marie left the room then, bored with her father's constant lecturing. It was obvious he was torn between love and protectiveness for his family, and anger toward his son. He would make sure his son did not have to pay for this for his whole life, but it was clear he was ashamed of what his son had done. Her mother, on the other hand, was just upset that Jean had to face this.

She opened the door to the garden, trying to block the memories and images of Jacques that came into her mind when she walked among the flowers. It was nearing August, and Marie could not stay outside very long. The muggy heat and the burning sun made her sweat, and no paper fan could relieve her from that. The heavy cotton of her dress, which was supposed to be light, casual, and cool, just made her burn. But sometimes fresh air is necessary, and it was one of those times.

"Marie!" She heard a voice whisper.

Whipping around, Marie found the source of the voice. Her face darkened immediately. Jacques was in front of the gate, his hands gripping the bars.

She glared at him, and turned to go back into the house.

"No- don't go yet!" he pleaded. "Please let me explain-"

"What could you possibly explain?" Marie hissed across the garden at him, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was looking through the windows. The sun was bright, though, and she could not see inside. Not that it mattered; her family was not the one who protested against Jacques. She was.

"Just let me talk to you," he begged.

Marie held herself up very straight and looked at him, deliberating. Finally, she sighed, groaning, and walked over to the gate.

"What? Be quick about it," she said pertly.

"I know you much know by now all about what happened with Jean, and with the brothers-"

"The who?" Marie spat, though she already knew.

"The Brothers of Freedom. Our group."

"That's a stupid name," Marie said cruelly.

"I didn't think of it," he said, but moved on. "I know you must hate me. But really, it wasn't my fault-"

"I really don't need to hear this," Marie said. "You do know my brother is sixteen, don't you? You- you disgust me," she said regally, her eyes narrow and cold, sharp as onyx.

"Marie!" he protested, his blue eyes looking desperate as started to walk away.

"Don't come here again," she said, her throat tight. "Don't. You lied to me, Jacques, and lied to my brother, and led him into danger. He's still just a boy, no matter what he says. And you did this knowing me, and you didn't even..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "Goodbye, Jacques."

Turning, Marie tried to keep her shoulders straight and proud as she walked into the house. The telltale burn in her eyes began, and she rushed up the stairs to her room, shutting the door before anyone followed her in.

She'd said goodbye to Jacques, it was true. She did not regret her decision; her family came first, and he could not be a suitable husband if he'd lied to her over something of this magnitude. But that did not mean that she never loved him, or that she did not still love him.


Thoughts? More coming soon, don't worry.