The news, nonetheless, would have to wait until the following day. Not due to a lack of excitement on my behalf, for the mere idea of seeing monsieur Marius again had carved a permanent smile on my face and lifted my feet slightly above the ground as I entered madame's patio, no, it was more complicated than that. As a matter of fact, I truly wished monsieur Enjolras was awake so I could tell him what I knew right away, to be honest I wished I could shout out the news to the world and wake the city of Paris with the chanting of a single, short, address. But I couldn't have expected the remains of the night to unravel like they did.

After dodging the flower pots in the patio, I opened the backdoor gently and stepped inside thinking every movement carefully. I closed the door, praying the hinges wouldn't betray me, and when I thought I had finally made it, I heard a noise. Steps, someone coming? I froze. I feared for the worst, I could already imagine Amantine's look as she dragged me out of the house by the ear while I blurted out a thousand less-than-plausible explanations for my midnight absence. But the noise faded, no one was coming. I looked around the kitchen clumsily, and dared to peek into the dark room, where, imagine my relief, Amantine was sleeping soundly. Sweet victory. I was about to enter and take my place on the improvised bed madame had once promised to improve but forgotten (not that it mattered), when I heard the noise again, rising faintly like a distant murmur. It was loud enough, though, to guide my attention towards the set of stairs leading into the cellar. Even in the darkness of the dormant house, I could tell the doors were opened, someone had to be inside.

I had to think my next move carefully, as if the house had suddenly turned into a gigantic chess board. At one end the possibility of becoming the heroine of the place, if I was to confront a pair of oddly cellar-driven burglars (which, I swear, at the moment sounded less demented). At the other end I could be caught after mysteriously leaving the house, maybe losing everything I had worked for, the possibility to escape the city and the only shelter I had, tricky situation. I lit a candle as I sorted out the loose ideas that rumbled around my head and adventured into the cellar, ready for everything except for what I found.

Now, if you have paid attention, though I wouldn't blame you if you haven't, for I often found myself lost in all of this, you can have an idea of what this moment was leading to and what I was about to find in the cellar. Looking back it was the most obvious explanation, but sometimes the closer we are to something the less clear we can see it.

I shielded the flame with a hand and descended into the room, feeling the smell of mold going up my nostrils and a sudden coldness settling within my bones. And then, the murmur, like a hum, too feeble to decipher any words.

"Hello?" I said faintly, by that point I had rooted out the possibility of encountering thieves. I approached slowly, lighted by my candle's shy glow. And there he was, leaning over a crooked desk which, just like him, had seen better days. His back towards me, sweat trapped between his skin and the chemise, his golden hair parted by a bandage, breathing heavily as if he had been lifting the entire house upon his broad shoulders.

This was the fresh memory, the solitary note, I began with. This single moment. Why this and not, perhaps, the first time I found him after the barricade?

I have no certain answer, the mind remembers what it wants to remember, but I think I might have an idea. Maybe it was because, since the barricade, I had not seen him this familiar to his old self and yet so irremediably different. He stood strong, even the crutches seemed like a symbol of power, he seemed focused as if he was planning his next revolt, he seemed, well, like himself, I guess. And yet he seemed broken, a little look at the entire seen and he was back to being a broken young man, a one legged man, alone in the middle of a cellar at night, murmuring to the dead.

I feared he would start using his crutches as swords when his voice grew louder and the murmurs became sharp threats against invisible soldiers. And then, as I still debated upon what to do next, his feverishly warm hand was around my wrist.

I yelled for madame loudly, automatically, as the warm grasp grew tighter around my wrist, his nails digging through my skin. I called repeatedly, looking through the opened cellar doors, waiting for a response, and when I looked back at him, I stumbled upon his blue eyes.

For a second, time stopped.

In those eyes, opened widely, looking without seeing, I saw it all.

Every bit, every fragment, every scrap of feeling he had been holding back, every monotone phrase, every indifferent look, every bit of emotion was pouring down those irises which had not been made for keeping so much pain. There were no tears, but not tears could ever compare to that look.

He then used the breath he had left to warn me about the soldiers who were on their way. I wondered if he was thinking about the barricade or about the night I literally dragged him through the streets of Paris to save him. Whatever it was, I can't say I wasn't relieve to notice he didn't consider I was the soldier, else I would be dodging the wrath of his crutches' swing. But he was still holding me too tight, my wrist was sore and no matter how many times I told him he was safe, he didn't seem to be able to listen.

I don't know how long it took before Amantine appeared behind me, but it probably it seemed longer than it really was. She talked to him with a soothing voice that seemed so odd in her that, for a second, I forgot this was the same woman who supervised my work every day.

What followed was the oddest chase I had seen: Enjolras let go of my wrist and tried to make his way behind the table, suddenly forgetting he depended on the crutches to advanced, while Amantine rushed towards him hoping to catch him before he fell. She did manage to grab him after he left his crutches and before he lost his balance, and between the two with had to hold him as he struggled to get free as he shouted about the soldiers. Amantine and I exchanged a look though which I begged her for instructions. The noise finally startled madame Trépat and her thin figured appeared at the top of the stairs. It was the first time I saw her in her night gown and I would have found the vision hilarious, for she looked like a mixture between a scarecrow and a mop, if the circumstances had been different. She rushed to her nephew, but Amantine advised her to keep some distances until he stopped struggling. Slowly he did stop fighting, and Amantine and I were able to carry him to the living room and rest him over a sofa, where he seemed to fall asleep after some minutes. Madame Trépat placed the crutches next to the sofa and watched her nephew in silence for a moment. I did too.

"Dear, Elise" Madame said softly, still looking at the blond man breathing heavily. "could you fetch the doctor?"

"Right away, madame" I replied, before making my way back into the streets.

It was a shame we were on the second floor, had we been on the living room still we would have been able to hear the doctor and madame Trépat's conversation perfectly. But after the old man had checked Enjolras and made sure the wounds had not reopened, the young man had been settled in his room upstairs and was resting on the gigantic bed under the equally enormous crucifix. The sun was already out, birds announced the morning outside and I couldn't help to yawn. Some two hours had elapsed since the cellar incident, but it was remarkable how restored Enjolras was. Aside from the dark rims under his eyes and the ruffled hair, it would be hard to find any indication of a problem. I think not even the doctor expected to see the young man need so little assistance to go upstairs. I was left to supervise him, nonetheless, while Amantine made breakfast and madame talked with the physician downstairs. Enjolras waited until the sound of their footsteps faded away before speaking.

"So how was the meeting with your sister?"

I looked at him blinking repeatedly, wondering if the odd question was a result of me falling asleep. But he was staring at me, honestly waiting for an answer. Go figure.

"Thanks for asking, monsieur, but I think we should talk about last night first."

"Last night, mademoiselle" He replied, looking down at his hands "was a rather humiliating incident. I hope you understand it is a subject I'd like to avoid. I wish you hadn't seen that, I'm awfully sorry."

"Monsieur, you shouldn't apologize, it wasn't something you could control. I mean, do you even remember it all?"

"It's blurry, it's like trying to remember a dream, a nightmare. But it wouldn't have been so bad if I had stayed in here, I'm actually surprised I didn't give my aunt a heart attack. I just knew it was going to be one of those nights."

"Those nights? Monsieur, has this happened before?"

"Not this bad, I usually lock the door, but last night I was already downstairs when it began." He said it casually, as if we were discussing the weather and before I could even react, he added "Mademoiselle, I'm afraid I need your help once again. Would you do me a favor?"

"Of course, monsieur."

"In the left drawer of that desk" I walked towards the opposite side of the room, towards the messy desk "there are a few pages, do you see them?"

I reached for the bottom and found a few crumpled papers, two or three, and took them out.

"Please, throw them away."

I looked down at them again. Even if they were smudged, and slightly torn around the corners, they were written on completely with a gorgeous calligraphy.

"Are you sure, monsieur?"

"It's rubbish, just some old speeches and loose thoughts I had in my pockets. I was reading them last night, I believe it was a mistake. So please, I beg you, get of rid of them. Throw them, tear them, or better yet use them to light to oven, they'll burn nicely."

"If that's what you want monsieur, consider it done." And I swear I meant it, but I never did. As a matter of fact, if stood up now to look for them now, I think I'd find them somewhere still. But that's not important right now.

"So" He cleared his throat as I clutched the documents "did you find your sister, mademoiselle?"

"Oh yes, and she was very thankful for the bread, monsieur. We both are."

"It was the least I could do. And did you talk a lot?"

"Surely! I hadn't realized how much I missed her, and she was happy to see I was truly alive. I wished we had had more time though."

I smiled briefly remembering the conversation, until I realized I had not told Enjolras about monsieur Marius whereabouts. But I hesitated, thinking if it would be appropriate to tell him. The last thing I wanted was to trouble him with anything related to the barricade, especially considering the events of the previous nights. And he looked at me, I think, noticing something was off. I sighed, then again, he deserved to know. After all, this would probably be his last chance to communicate with Marius, with anyone from Les Amis, really, so who was I to take that away from him?

"Monsieur," I said softly, "she told me where monsieur Marius is."

And he looked at me in silence, frowning and yet smiling at the corner of his mouth. And then he assumed that silent and distant gaze I was familiar to by now.

"I thought you'd like to know." I added.

"Thank you for telling me" He said finally, looking at me. "I suppose you'll visit him soon."

"As soon as I can."

"I would have liked to join you, but I doubt my aunt will let me leave the house for a while, let alone visit one of my friends. Nonetheless... I'm afraid I'll have to ask you for yet another favor."

"Monsieur, I can't promise you anything, but I do think I can smuggle you out of the house if we leave at night or-"

"No" He stopped, was that the flash of smile I was seeing? "I'm afraid I won't be needing your smuggling services, just your messenger services. I'll write Pontmercy a letter, and I'd be very grateful if you could deliver it for me, when you visit him."

"I'll be glad to, monsieur. As soon as the letter's ready, I'll go."

"I'll make haste then, I'm sure you're eager to see him again."

"Yes monsieur, to be honest when I heard the address I started considering staying in town."

"Really?"

" I know I must leave, sooner rather than later, if I intended to live that is, but-" And by Enjolras's expression, I realized I had said too much.

"What do you mean 'intend to live'?" He frowned and looked at me.

"Oh just an expression monsieur, an exaggeration of course" For some reason, the blue iris seemed to weight on my chest, making lying harder. "Intend to live, what a silly, silly, thing to say, ain't it?"

"Mademoiselle, I know that your private life is none of my concern, and feel free to ignore this question, but, are you in any danger?"

I sighed deeply. "Monsieur, you don't want to know about that."

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it, mademoiselle, but if you're in danger, I would very much like to hear about it, in hopes of helping, however I can."

I looked at him, bit my lips, two months ago I would have never even considered telling him what I had had for breakfast, but somehow, now, I thought that if there was someone whose advice I wanted to hear, it was he. So next thing I knew I was sitting on the chair in front of the old desk, facing Enjolras as I told him about my ordeal. Once I started it was like opening a rusty faucet, which can't be stopped no matter how hard you try to force it shut again. I didn't change anything, I apologized for the bluntness, but I told him all, the days in Rodolphe Lhereux's house, how I bashed Girard's head an fled the place, how I came to madame Trépat's house looking for refuge, and even told him about my conversation with my sister. All while looking straight at him, expecting to see any signs of outrage, disgust, or even anger, but he was silent, pensively listening. And by the end of it, I felt as if an anvil had been lifted from my chest, for in reality, just by listening he was already helping me carry the weight.

"I have said too much" I concluded, looking at his still pensive expression. "I'm sorry, monsieur, never mind, all of this."

"Not at all, mademoiselle, that is the most fascinating story I've heard in a while. I understand now why you were so eager to leave…though, what I don't understand is why are you even considering staying here."

"I know it's silly monsieur, but, leaving means saying a definite goodbye to monsieur Marius. Once I leave, I doubt I'll ever see him again. How could I do that, monsieur? I'm not that strong."

I looked at him, he was biting his lips and frowning slightly.

"What are you thinking, monsieur?"

"I don't think you'd like to hear it."

"No, please, do tell me."

"Well, I see absolutely no reason for you to stay in town. Don't get me wrong, I do understand how painful goodbyes are, I truly do, but I don't think you should risk everything like that. Sometimes, I suppose one must chin up and just-"

"Move on?" I intervened.

"Yes" He sighed, sensing we were not just talking about me. "Move on. And mademoiselle, I have always tried to be a man who means what he says, so I hope you'll believe me when I say I think you are that strong. But in the end, I won't interfere with whatever choice you make."

And before he could continue, we heard steps coming towards the room. Madame Trépat appeared at the door, reciting out loud the recommendations that doctor had just given her so she wouldn't forget them. I left them alone so they could talk in peace, as I thought about Enjolras's words.

Even if he had told me what I already knew, monsieur Enjolras had indeed helped me more than I had imagined just by listening. Now, nonetheless, the choosing was up to me, and the first step was to meet again the man behind it all, the man I had hoped to die for, and for whom I was willing to die a second time.

I'll just start by saying that I'm not dropping this story, even if it takes a while, I plan to finish it. With that said, I'm so so so sorry for not updating sooner!

Life just gets in the way. But, here's a new chapter, and there will be more chapters coming soon. So thank you for being ultra patient.

And thanks for the support it, really, really, really, helps one to sit and continue. So special thanks to: C3ara1098, -ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo, Freedom909, Midnightstar-and-Echosong, RavenCurls, Break This Spell626, Stars in her Pocket, Serendipity, and jazzflame for the encouragement!

As always, any type of comment, suggestion, critique, insult, idea, reaction, threat, et al. is very welcomed and encouraged.

Thanks for reading.

Greetings from Colombia!