Words cannot express how sorry I am that it has taken me this long to update. I have been busy with schoolwork and college applications and nearly forgot about this story completely. But first off this thank you is long since overdo, but I wish to thank Aelthar101 for making the awesome trailer to this story! Here is the link to it if anyone is interested watch?v=L6sOQp3mjcw&feature=player_embedded! I also wish to thank all those who have reviewed this story and have followed it and favorited it. It means a ton to me especially since I have been going through all this ridiculousness in my life right now. :P As always criticisms and reviews are always welcomed and appreciated. I hope this chapter is an okay one to read, my main worry is about getting characterization right, but I will leave that up for you to decide! Enjoy!
It had taken courage for Mariélle to leave Amélie alone and head out into the faint beginnings of the night. To everyone else who roamed the streets, she was just another face looking as forlorn as the rest of the them, so they paid her no mind. But in her head, it was as if every glance was filled with suspicion or knowing. She awaited the moment when Adrien would appear out of nowhere, ruthlessly grabbing her and fetching the police or even finish what he had started. But she couldn't let such thoughts bother her and she did her best to brush them off. Besides if Adrien had wanted her arrested wouldn't he have found her by now? "Since you cannot tell us who attacked you, I am afraid that we cannot be of much service to you." Remembering the gendarme's words, she relaxed even more. He was so drunk that perhaps he did not remember what had occurred. Or if he had said anything about her he would implicate himself in the crime. Regardless if she had been arrested or not, she would have never given up Éponine. The girl had saved her life and Mariélle would not repay her by having her thrown into a cell beside her.
Yes it had taken great courage for Mariélle to leave Amélie. Even more so when she had stepped into the café. Luckily for her, the room was crowded with numerous people, most of whom absorbed in their own doings, hardly paying any attention to the newcomer who had entered with trepidation. Her eyes scanned the room for only a few moments before she finally laid eyes on him.
He was already standing and once the look of recognition flashed in his eyes, he began to take long strides towards her. Before she could even speak his hand latched down onto her arm and tugged her back outside. The sudden movement had surprised her and a small cry of protest had left her lips, but no one else had heard it and they were alone in the open air.
"What are you doing here?" Enjolras was the first to speak and when he did, his words were unusually cold and she felt a little stung by his harsh manner. But she couldn't think of anything that she had said or had done to anger him.
"I…" As she struggled to find words, he cut her off.
"You shouldn't be here." He dropped her arm rather quickly, or more or less shoved it away from him, like he had found it repulsive. "Why are you dressed like this?" He gestured at her coat and her father's cap that still kept her hair hidden. His eyes were nearly as cold as his words as he scrutinized her, but he wasn't finished speaking yet. "You should be at home where you belong instead of seeking me out. Revolution is nearing and you should no longer associate yourself with me. Go home Mariélle." With those words he began to turn to go back inside the café.
Before she even knew what she was doing, she clutched his arm, effectively stopping him. She felt angry and wounded at the strange and unfair way he was treating her, but there was something more important than that.
"It is Amélie. She needs a physician or someone else that can help her. Something is terribly wrong and she needs help. That is the only reason why I came here tonight." She managed to speak calmly even though she felt like screaming or breaking down into sobs. But she would not let her words break, even though that was what she wanted to do more than anything. "I am sorry if I have done something to upset you even though I do not know what it is I could have possibly done." Try as she might to stop herself, a hint of anger tainted her words, but she quickly calmed herself once more. "If you do not wish to help me I understand." She spoke these words even though she did not understand. She did not understand any of it, but she could not give up so easily.
She removed her hand from his arm and stepped away from him. Her face felt warm; no doubt it was crimson as well from embarrassment and anger as she waited for him to ignore her imploring and walk back into the café or turn around once more. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he did the latter, but she looked down, because that still did not mean anything. As she contemplated the pavement below, she could feel him staring at her. Hearing soft footsteps, his shoes soon filled her line of sight, as he now stood in front of her. Slowly she lifted her gaze almost as if his eyes compelled her to do their bidding. His expression had softened considerably and he looked apologetic if not ashamed, and when her eyes met his once more, he looked away.
"Let me fetch my friend. He'll be able to see if there is anything he can do." He spoke in a soft tone as if to make up for the harsh words he had said before, "You can trust him. He was the one who examined you when you were hurt."
"Thank you." She responded quietly and once more stared down at the ground below her feet. She was still vaguely upset and hurt, and she did not want him to see. But as he stepped inside, all traces of those emotions vanished and were replaced with her initial anxiousness and fear for Amélie. There had to be something, anything, that could be done. Yet, she ignored the small part of her being that told her otherwise.
Enjolras listened silently as Mariélle and Joly spoke in hushed tones a few feet ahead of him, their pace quick and determined. After he had told the others who Mariélle was, he had taken Joly aside and had mentioned Amélie and how ill she was. He had also told him of the promise he had made to Mariélle and to his relief, Joly had agreed to be of assistance in the event that her sister became worse. He and Joly were able to make their exit unnoticed, and had left the Rue Saint-Michel with Mariélle in haste.
Not once had she looked at him since they had left. Truth be told, he felt both ashamed and guilty for his prior actions. He had not meant to be so cruel, but the words had left his lips before he could stop himself. He blamed it on his frustrations, he had been rather short-tempered for the past few days, but it was as if since the day they had met, he had experienced not one moment of peace. He knew that why he had acted as the way he had, was because he was angry at himself. Remembering what he had told Marius and how he had always voiced his opinions about the subject of women and how he thought they were nothing more than a distraction, looking at her he nearly shook his head. He was becoming a hypocrite.
He knew that he had hurt her. Watching her as he spoke earlier, it was as if each word was a dagger that had cut her open. As they stepped into the door of the small room where she lived, he lowered his head. I am sorry if I have done something to upset you even though I do not know what it is I could have possibly done. Her words still rang fresh in his ears and he knew she was right. She had done nothing wrong.
As Mariélle stepped inside, closely followed by the two men, her attention quickly became focused on Amélie. Rushing over to her bedside, she saw the girl was still as she had left her. Placing a hand on her sister's forehead, she knew already that it would still be hot to the touch. Her breathing was still labored and her eyes remained closed. Every so often, she would stir slightly and would make a noise that was halfway between a groan and a rasp. Looking up at Enjolras and the young man he had introduced to her as Joly, she saw that their expressions were grim.
"Let me attend to her." Joly stepped forward and as he did so, she stepped away. There must be something that he could do for. Something that she herself could not. She walked over to the fireplace and pulled the cap off of her head before setting it down on the mantle and stoking the fire that had died low.
She could still feel the rapid beating of her own heart and the blood coursing through her veins. She caught her reflection in the small piece of glass that could not have even been considered a mirror. Her hair had fallen about her shoulders, tangled and wild after having been freed from the cap. The bruises upon her face were slow in healing, but had faded to a dull purple color. She had not slept well in days; in fact she could not even remember the last time she had gotten a proper night of sleep. But all at once, she felt a sort of calm fall over her. At that moment she never realized how exhausted she was. More than anything she wanted to collapse into a chair or sink to the floor out of sheer weariness. The only thing that stopped her was looking over at the young man who was examining the little girl who was truly the only family she had left in this world.
Enjolras watched his friend as he attended Amélie. By Joly's expression, he knew the prognosis would not be a good one. That moment, his friend caught his eye, and shook his head subtly with a look akin to heartbreak upon his face. Enjolras felt his eyes immediately shift to Mariélle who stood staring into the flames of the fire. At that instant, he swore she looked lost and he, himself, felt an echo of sadness.
Joly cleared his throat before speaking and breaking the heavy silence that had fallen upon the room. "You may go to her now." Joly's words were meant for Mariélle, but his eyes were looking at him. She had not noticed.
As Mariélle made her way to her sister's bedside, Joly made his way towards him and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him from the room and into the open air before speaking low into his ear.
"There is nothing I can do for her. She is too far gone and this sickness has claimed many." Sorrow tinged his words, as he continued to speak. "She will not last this night."
Enjolras stared through the open door and the two people who remained inside of it. "Are you certain that there is nothing that can be done?" He found himself speaking with a ferocity that he reserved for his speeches alone, and clutched at his companion's shirt.
Joly only stared back at him with a look of melancholy, "There is nothing that can be done. It is too late for anything, besides even if there was something it would only help for a time, leaving the girl to linger unnecessarily. She is in pain, Enjolras. This may be a cruel thing for you to hear, but soon she will not have to be in pain any longer."
Joly was truthful. The words were painful, almost as much as the harsh reality where such words should exist. But he knew that his friend was right.
"I will remain here for when…but I will wait outside so there can be privacy." Joly stepped away and rested against the outside wall, his eyes closed and hands behind his head, with a look of utter defeat upon his face.
Enjolras glanced at him for only a minute more, before turning and making his way back inside. Que Dieu alleger les souffrances dans ce ménage.
Mariélle placed another cool cloth upon Amélie's forehead. The fever had not left her still and she continued to cough every so often. The pillow that rested underneath her head had small crimson stains that were the telltale signs of the sickness. Her mother had had the same stains about her pillow before she succumbed to the same illness. As hard as she tried, such thoughts kept returning to her mind.
She heard someone entering the room, and she saw that it was Enjolras. He had a strange look about his face, one that she had never recalled seeing on him before. It unnerved her so she quickly looked away and once more focused her attentions upon her sister. Once more she perceived his footsteps drawing closer, until he was standing beside her, towering over her kneeled form. She continued to avoid his gaze that she could feel upon her and drew the blanket more tightly over Amélie.
"Mariélle…" She heard him speak and his voice sounded strained and tired along with another emotion that did not sound right departing from his lips. But still she did not pay any attention to him.
He kept on speaking her name, or beginning sentences that he would not finish. She would not reply to him and went about the current task at hand as if he was not even there at all. But the words that she could not understand kept growing louder in her ears until the rung until she could bear it no longer.
"Why do you remain here?" Her own voice sounded far away but she could detect the anger in her words, "Leave! You are not needed here. Go!" Her face felt flushed and warm, and for an odd reason her throat ached as she spoke.
He remained still and his face still wore the same expression that she could not name. This only enraged her further; never before it seemed she had ever been so angry.
"I said leave. Can you not understand me?" It felt as if she was being consumed by hate and rage; she realized her throat ached because instead of speaking, she was screaming.
But he remained where he stood; her fury seemed to take no effect. She shoved him then. She had placed both hands upon his chest and had pushed at him with all the strength she possessed. He stumbled briefly, out of momentary surprise, but recovered and was prepared for the next time which came quickly. This time, he did not stumble and the strength in her hands was not enough to move him. Nor the time afterwards, or the time after that. Several times he had attempted to reach for her arms to still her, but she had ripped away from his hands quickly. The onslaught continued until she felt herself growing weaker and ultimately surrendered, stepping away from him with clenched hands and her face feeling warmer than before. She could hear him speaking once more, but this time she could not understand his words at all.
"Mariélle…?"
This time it was not he who spoke. This voice was soft, weak, and ragged. Her eyes quickly darted to Amélie and she saw that the little girl's pale gray eyes stared up at her. All traces of anger left her then, and she found herself kneeling once more at the girl's bedside, smoothing her hair.
"Yes Amélie, I'm here." She found herself smiling then, so as not to worry her or betray what had just happened.
The girl's eyes seemed far away, yet they seemed worried, "I heard shouting is…?"
"It was just from outside. Everything is alright." She felt ashamed of what she had just done, but would not let it show upon her face.
Amélie smiled weakly before beginning to cough. Her whole body shook and she did her best to sit upright, but was too weak to move. Mariélle assisted her until the coughs subsided and instead she gasped for air. Soon she rested once more upon the pillow and the faraway look had returned to her eyes.
"I no longer feel cold," this time she spoke in a whisper, "Did you find more wood for the fire?"
"Yes. It is much warmer in here than it was before." Mariélle lied; in fact she felt the draft that was constantly present from the cool, night air.
"Good. Mariélle, I feel very tired. Will you sing to me, like mamma used to until I fall asleep?" The girl's eyes implored her so deeply that Mariélle could never have refused.
"As-tu compté les fleurettes," She found herself beginning to sing softly a rhyme that their mother had used to sing first to her as a child, then to Amélie, "As-tu compté les fleurettes, Souriant au gai printemps, Boutons d'or et pâquerettes, Fleurs des bois et fleurs des champs ? Celui qui leur fit Ces riches habits, Celui qui leur mit Ce frais coloris, Sait aussi quel est leur nombre Et ne les oublie pas."
Towards the end of the song, she felt her voice beginning to break and she struggled to continue, as her smile felt more forced and as she smoothed the girl's hair. "Et ne les oublie pas." When she finished, she saw that the far-off look had completely filled Amélie's eyes, and a peaceful smile rested upon her lips. The sound of her labored breathing had long since ceased, and she remained very still.
Mariélle stared at her then, she stared at her until Amélie's face swam in front of her eyes. She was vaguely aware that someone was kneeling beside he speaking to her. She forced herself to turn then and she saw that it was Enjolras. The look he wore upon his face that had seemed foreign to her before, she understood now. It was the look of grief. The look she was certain she herself now wore. She tried to speak then, but found that she couldn't. Once more her face felt warm and she realized that tears were falling freely from her eyes for there was nothing left to hold them back. This time when Enjolras reached for her, she did not fight him. Burying her face into his shoulder, she wept.
It was dawn. They had long since taken Amélie away from her and her tears had long since stopped. She felt strange for she felt nothing. The only thing she was aware of was how tired she felt, of how much she wanted to fall into a deep sleep and not wake for a long time. She sat upon the bed that was now empty and stared at the floor. Enjolras stood at the door, speaking to Monsieur D'Aurevalle, the druggist, who had been kind to her whenever she had gone into his shop for something that would help Amélie. He had spoken to her a few moments before, and had said that he was going to pay for the arrangements for Amélie. She had merely nodded her head in reply, still not quite understanding the words he spoke were her reality now and that indeed her sister was gone from this world.
She heard the door close, and looking up saw that Enjolras has stepped back inside. He looked as exhausted as she felt. He had not slept at all, like she, and had remained with Joly, who had just taken his leave, all night.
"You should rest now." He looked at her pointedly with both concern and seriousness in his eyes.
She wanted to rest, but at the same time she was not sure if she could. Her eyes felt heavy, but her mind was still trying to comprehend everything that had occurred.
Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door that had a familiarity about it that confused her and she stood. Enjolras went to answer it, but she stopped him by placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder. She walked slowly and before she reached it, whoever was on the other side knocked once more in a soft manner. As she opened it, she was not prepared for who it was on the other side. She stared for a moment in utter disbelief whatever words she was about to have spoken, died instantly.
"You look like hell my girl. Are you going to just stand there and not let me in?"
The man she had not seen in over a year, the father who had abandoned her and Amélie stood staring back at her with a rueful smile.
Translations:
Que Dieu alleger les souffrances dans ce ménage- May God ease the suffering in this household.
As-tu compté les fleurettes, Souriant au gai printemps, Boutons d'or et pâquerettes, Fleurs des bois et fleurs des champs ? Celui qui leur fit Ces riches habits, Celui qui leur mit Ce frais coloris, Sait aussi quel est leur nombre Et ne les oublie pas. -Have you counted the little flowers, Smiling at the merry spring,Buttercups and daisies,Woodland flowers and wildflowers?He who made them,Those rich clothes,He who put themIn fresh colors,Also knows their number, And doesn't forget them.