Chapter XXXVI
Enjolras's stared down at the child's face. A dark grey shadow had set over his face, as if the sun of his soul had gone away and night was closing in on him. The warmth had left his body, and as Enjolras held him in his arms, it now felt as cold as the prison's stone walls. The light had left the boy's eyes, and a thin film had come over them, as if to prevent him from seeing.
For that first moment, Enjolras did not feel anything. It was as if these things were happening, not to him, but to someone else, and he was not involved in them but merely watching from a distance. Or perhaps this was a dream. He could not understand or control these things that were happening. But why did it matter? Any moment he would wake up. Yet, some part of him deep within his soul knew that this was not a dream.
Feeling as if some other force was controlling him, Enjolras watched his own hand slowly move to Luc's cold face. Very gently he brushed the tips of his finger over the child's eyes, and his eyelids slid shut. Enjolras withdrew his hand and looked down upon the child's face. His eyes closed, Luc could have been sleeping.
His eyes shut, his face grey, his flesh cold, and both Luc's body and Enjolras's body entirely soaked with innocent blood. Now, as Enjolras looked down at this child, truth finally struck him like a thunderbolt. He felt as if he was suddenly awoken from a terrible nightmare only to find that the reality so very worse. He knew that Luc was not sleeping. He knew that this was not a dream. He knew that Luc was dead.
Every time someone Enjolras loved died, part of his soul died with them. But now, that Luc, his child, his life, his word, the only one that he still loved was gone, all that was left of Enjolras's soul died. When he watched Luc die, as he held the child in his arms and watched the light fade from his eyes as his soul took wings and departed, Enjolras's heart began to quake and rumble until it was painfully torn apart, like the devastating slitting of the earth.
Enjolras's strength was a stone wall, a dam that held back any emotions or signs of weakness. When this child died, this wall came crumpling down, as if struck down by a wrathful thunderbolt from God, and all the waters that it had been holding back suddenly burst free. Everything that Enjolras had been holding back for so long, the sadness, the fear, the grief, the misery came rushing forward like these great tides.
Fear, panic, sadness, pain all seized him at once. He suddenly looked down at all of the blood that soaked Luc, and fear and panic pierced his heart like the cruel blade of a dagger. There was so much blood. Innocent blood! And now it was also covering Enjolras, his entire body, his chest, hid legs, his arms. For a moment, Enjolras panicked and tried to get away from all of the blood. But no! He had to stay! He could not leave Luc!
"Luc!" he suddenly shouted his name, as if he could wake this dead child from his slumber. But Luc did not stir. His soul had left this earthly body, this temporary temple, and now it was somewhere far more glorious, somewhere far way. His voice fearful, panicked, and desperate, Enjolras cried, "Luc, no! NO!"
Enjolras suddenly felt that same terrible sensation that had taken hold of him the last time he had to watch someone he loved die. When Grantaire was bleeding and dying on the floor of the café and Javert dragged Enjolras away from him, Enjolras was desperate and helpless. He would have given anything to save Grantaire, or even to save him for only a few moments longer. But nothing that he could give was enough. There was nothing that he could do but watch helplessly as he died. He felt that same fear, panic, despair, and helplessness now. Luc was gone. And Enjolras was broken.
He felt his heart shatter like glass, and then it was as if these sharp shards where cutting apart his insides, tearing through his organs, ripping through his flesh. The tears that he had managed to fight back for so long suddenly burst forth from his eyes and, at once, began to stream down his face. He had one and only one mission alone, and that was to keep his child safe. But he had failed.
"Luc, I am sorry!" Enjolras cried. His voice came thin and weak, trembling and broken by sobs. He was suddenly bent low over the child's body, holding him to his chest as tightly as he could. "I am so sorry… I love you…"
His voice broke and words failed him. He could not speak anymore. Speaking was too painful. So for a long time all he could do was hold the child in his arms and weep. The tears flowed from his eyes, streamed down his face, and fell onto the face of the dead child, who he cradled in his arms. Enjolras's tears hit Luc's stone face like gentle raindrops from Heaven, and there was a strange sort of beauty upon him, but Enjolras did not see this. All he could see was darkness. All he could feel was pain.
At last, tears still running down his face, Enjolras lifted his head and looked back upon the child in his arms. He kissed Luc's forehead again. "I am so sorry, Luc…" he whispered again, his voice trembling and his words so soft that no person could have heard them. But perhaps, this dead child heard.
Enjolras's head fell, and he buried his face against Luc's cold body, and he held him as tightly as he could. His body shook with sobs, his lungs trembled as he gasped for air, and his heart burned. Every time it beat, it beat with pain. The dreadful pain that had disabled his body for so long, that terrible agony, was increasing every second, so that it became unbearable. Pain stabbed his body like knives, piercing him repeatedly never ceasing never yielding. The only time Enjolras had ever felt pain like this was when his friends died. But this pain was worse still.
Of all pain, there is no pain so terrible than that of the heart that grieves the loss of a loved one. And of the all the grieving hearts, there is no pain so terrible than that of the heart of a parent who grieves the loss of his child. When men and women die, their children, their family, their friends are devastated. Though they will never forget this person, and their hearts will forever bear a scar, and a part of their soul will never quite be whole again, with time, they come to accept that the soul of their loved one has moved on. And so, they allow their soul to move on, as well. They continue to breathe and they continue to live. They, at last, come to accept what has happened, because deep down within their hearts, they know that it was meant to be, that it was inescapable, that it was the will of the Creator, that all things pass away, that all things come to rest, that all people will one day die, that one day they too will join this loved one in Heaven. And so they move on.
But when a parent loses his child, his entire world is shattered, destroyed, and devoured, his earth quakes and spits, his ocean tumbles and fights against itself, his trees are uprooted and cast to the ground, his sun disappears and his sky turns black, his moon is no longer the light of God shining through the darkness but the fiery torch of Satan, the stars are no longer gentle lanterns of the angels but the wicked eyes of the demons, his body no longer feels, his heart no longer beats, his soul no longer lives. His entire world is turned upside down, his entire philosophy torn apart. His world stops turning. Everything he thinks he believed in is suddenly proven wrong. For it is not right nor is it just for a child to die. When he is young, when he is innocent, when he is pure, when he still has his entire life to live, yet he dies. This is against all of the rules of the life. The sun sets and the moon rises to take its place. The old die and the young live on until they too have become old, and then their time comes. No parent should have to live to see his child die.
Yet, sometimes God chooses to take the child and leave the parent behind to linger long after the babe is gone. Why? Why would He do this? That is always the first question that the parents cry at Him. How could He allow this? What profit does it bring to Him? He who claims to be a merciful God?! But who are mortals to judge the divine plans of God? They cannot understand Him because He is so much greater.
Enjolras did not understand. He loved Luc as much as a man loves his own child, and Luc loved Enjolras as much as a child loves his father. Enjolras felt this same pain that a parent feels when his child slips away from him. Along with the treacherous burden of guilt.
Enjolras held Luc as tightly as he could, his face buried against this child, as he wept on his body, sobbing bitterly and painfully. Then, someone was pulling Luc away from him. "No!" Enjolras suddenly shouted, opening his eyes and immediately looking up with a murderous glare. But tears filled his eyes and ran freely down his face. There were two guards standing before him, one with a club in his hand and the other with a gun. They had come to retrieve the body. To take Luc away from him.
Ignoring Enjolras, the man with the club bent over to grab Luc and began to pull him away from Enjolras. "No!" Enjolras yelled again, louder and angrier this time. He suddenly yanked Luc away from the man's grasp, threw himself over the child, and clung to him as tightly as he could, using his own body as a shield to hide Luc from the guards.
Enjolras then felt a man grab him by his arms to pull him away from Luc. He let out a loud cry as sharp pain cut through him, stabbing his wounds and ripping his flesh. For a brief moment, startled by Enjolras's cry, the guard stopped fighting him, and at once, Enjolras seized Luc's body and closed his arms around him again, holding him tight, refusing to let him go. But only a moment later, the guard grabbed Enjolras again.
"No!" Enjolras yelled, as he struggled to resist these men. Pain cut through his body, devouring his flesh, blinding his eyes, confusing his mind, but still Enjolras continued to fight as hard as he could. He could not let them take Luc away from him! He had to stay with him! His child! He could not let them take him! He could not let him go! But Enjolras's strength was gone, and the guards had little trouble overpowering him. One man pulled Enjolras back, as the other man pulled Luc away. For a moment, Enjolras felt the child slipping out of his grasp, and then he could no longer touch him. He was gone.
"No!" Enjolras cried out in desperate panic. Never taking his eyes off Luc, he tried to fight the guard who was holding him back. "No! You cannot take him from me! No! Luc! You can't take him! Let me go! Let go of me!" Enjolras watched helplessly as the other man carried Luc's lifeless out of the cell. Now the bars stood between him and Enjolras, keeping them apart. But the gate was not yet locked.
The guard released Enjolras, and at once, he threw himself toward the gate and tried to get out, but only for the guard to suddenly seize him again and forcefully pull him back away from it. Enjolras cried out again as pain shot through his body, and he hit his back to the hard stone floor. Pain like fire erupted in his body and blinded his eyes. He could not see at all for a moment, and then he could just barely make out dark shapes within a word of shadows. But even in pain and in the darkness, Enjolras got up at once and went for the gate again. But the guard had already slipped out and shut the gate. Just as he got there, it slammed in Enjolras's face.
Enjolras heard the guard locking the gate, and he felt panic like a bullet to his heart. The men were now standing outside of the cell. One of them was holding Luc's body in his arms. Luc lied there lifeless, his head turned to the side and his white hand hanging limply over the side of the man's arms. These men were going to take him away. They were going to take him from Enjolras!
"NO!" Enjolras suddenly screamed. His voice was high and cracking with despair. He thrust an arm through the bars of the gate and reached for Luc, as if he might somehow have been able to touch him. But he was much too far away. "NO! LUC!"
Without a word, the guards turned away, turning their backs on Enjolras. Then, they began to leave, walking down that long dark corridor where all things disappeared into darkness. Enjolras watched desperate, defeated, and broken as these men carried Luc down the hall, and he slowly got farther and farther away. Soon he would disappear from his sight, and he would be gone forever.
Panic took Enjolras as he suddenly knew that this was the last time that he would ever see Luc. This was the last time he would ever get to look upon his child. This was the last time that he would have a chance to say any words to him. Even if he could no longer hear them.
What was he to say?! Just as when Enjolras was being taken away from Grantaire and he knew that he had to speak the last words that he would ever say to him, Enjolras had so much that he wanted to say, but now that the time had come, had be thrust upon him so quickly and so suddenly he did not know what to say. He opened his lips and ended up crying the same words that he had been his last words to Grantaire, "I'm sorry!" But these would not be the last words he spoke to Luc. A moment later, just as Luc was disappearing from his sight, he shouted down the hall one last thing that he had to say. "I love you!"
Then, Luc was gone.
Still for a long time, Enjolras continued to stare down the hallway, feeling as dark and empty as the corridor before him. He knew that it was over. Luc was gone. The bars of this cell would divide him and his child forever. Never again would he be able to see him, or his bright blue eyes, or that warm smile that melted his heart. Never again would he be able to hear his gentle voice, or the soft sound of his breathing when he was sleep, or that sweet laugh that was the one thing that made Enjolras happy. Never again would he be able to fell his little body snuggled up beside him to sleep, or his head resting on against chest, or his warm when he embraced him. Never again would he be able to be with his child. Never again would he be able to know happiness. Or joy. Or love. This was the end. Luc was gone.