The girl took a deep breath and found herself in her husband's study. She hadn't opened the door in eight months. It was a different experience and her eyes roamed around the room. It looked exactly the same that it did the day before... Melaina shook her head and she took a shaky step as one hand rested on her stomach while the other gently moved along the top of his desk. It looked exactly the same, but something was missing. He was missing and that made Melaina's chest hurt. Melaina sat down in the chair that stayed behind his desk, her fingers trailing over the arms. It was hard for Melaina to breathe since the room seemed stuffy.

Well, it hasn't been opened for months. Of course it would be stuffy. She thought to herself just as she heard the door creak open. Her mother walked in at a swift pace, patches of pink on her face. Like she was flustered. The woman crossed the room, the dust gathering in her skirts as she stood in front of her daughter.

"I hope you're happy. Monsieur Beauchene left after I almost had to grovel at his feet to come back! You're lucky he's inter-"

"Mother, will you please stop yelling at me about this stupid suitor of mine and leave me alone?!" Melaina screeched as she looked up from the peace and tranquility that she felt. She felt the muscle in her neck tighten as she struggled to breathe.

"I'm opening a window. It's too hot in here." Her mother said as she crossed the room and threw open the window despite Melaina's yell of refusal. Cobwebs glinted in the sunlight and a slight breeze blew through the study.

"Goodness, Melaina! We really should clean it out one day." Her mother exclaimed as her fingers ran along part of his bookshelf which came up with a ton of dust. Her mother grimaced and swept her hands together to get rid of the fluff.

"We're leaving it as it is."

"At least clean it-"

"We're not moving anything an inch." Melaina said, sternly and watched as her mother pursed her lips. She knew that her mother hated things to be messy, but Melaina wanted this room to stay as it was. It wasn't her room; it was her husband's. And it was his call to say where he wanted things to go, but obviously can't now. Her mother left the room in silence and Melaina exhaled softly.

"I'm sorry for that, Enjolras." She whispered out loud and she could feel something lay gently over her hand which was placed on her stomach.

No such thing as ghosts... or spirits... She thought to herself as her eyes closed gently. Melaina felt whatever it was leave after a few seconds and she opened her eyes. His study smelt like wood, stale cigar smoke and wine. It was because during the last day before the Revolution, the boy's made it seem that his study was the cafe. Melaina remembered the frown that seemed to never leave her husband's face as Joly shared his cigars with Bossuet and Feuilly. It wouldn't leave until after she made him a cup of coffee and a sweet crepe. He has changed his pallet and wanted her to make him coffee no matter the time of day. He was restless during those times and loved to spend so many hours working on his plans. It took constant coaxing and pulling on his shirt sleeves to get him to sleep for a few hours.

Melaina's lips twitched into a smile as the memories flooded her mind. Her fingers brushed up against the top of the desk, over papers, spilled ink, an old quill... everything that he used to use. A shaky breath left her lips as she felt tears well up in her eyes. She would never watch him scribble down notes, his curls falling in his eyes which were set with determined concentration. She did have her memories though, ones that she can pass on to her child. Or children.

Her fingers fiddled over the drawer that was on the side where she was sitting. Her nails kept scratching over a piece of paper that jutted between the small space. Her green eyes flickered towards it, but she hesitated in opening the drawer. But what if it's something important... She thought to herself as she slowly opened the drawer and realized that it was his journal in the drawer.

"But... when did you move it?" She mumbled to herself as she brought it out and placed it gently on her lap while she closed the drawer. The leather bound journal with its gold etching of his name seemed like a weight. But also a treasure. Her hands fluttered around the journal, wondering if she should open it or not. Taking a deep breath, the girl undid the string and opened the journal slowly.

On the first page, in his untidy scrawl, it had his name and birth date with the names of his family. It also had her name under theirs with a bit of space under hers. "That's where your name is going to be, little one." She muttered as she rubbed her stomach gently. Her eyes roamed over the rest of the words before Melaina mustered up the courage to begin reading her husband's journal.

Most of the entries were about his plans which is what she expected, but some were addressed to her. Like this one that she was reading right now:

Dearest Melaina,

I know it's probably difficult for your mind to wrap around the plans I have for me and my friends. (She scoffed at this, thinking that her called her dumb) But, I'm sure you're confused why I'm loyal to Patria. But, if you think about it, I'm loyal to France's people. I want to improve the lives of the people that reside in this beautiful country. I want to help everyone who calls France their home. That's why... why I wouldn't rest when I was ill, tired, or hungry. I had to continue to help them, no matter what it took from me. Does that help now, Melaina dear?

Combeferre is currently pulling on my shirt sleeve to get ready for our next speech.

Till then,

Alexander.

Melaina read it a few more times and she rubbed her eyes gently. She knew, only a little bit, that he was protecting the people, but this entry didn't sound like him. The words sounded forced and rushed. Nothing like the usual speech-like quality his other entries had. There was another one for her a few pages away, but Melaina didn't want to read his journal all at once. She wanted to go slow and figure out what her husband was thinking. The girl watched the light play off of her rings and her fingers brushed against them gently. They were the only pieces of jewelry that she let herself wear.

She did understand his reasoning after Combeferre explained it to her many times, yet she still liked how her husband told her as well. He wanted her to read it from his version, not just expecting her to believe whatever his best friend told her. Closing the journal, Melaina held it to her chest as she felt her lips twitch into a small smile. Maybe... maybe she'll clean his study. Getting up slowly and waddling towards the door, Melaina poked her head out.

"Mama?"

"What is it, dear?"

"Do you think we can clean out Alexander's study tomorrow? Just clean it and put everything back." There was a pause and she heard her mother's voice.

"Of course, Melaina."

That night, Melaina could be found curled up in his chair. It still smelled of his cinnamon and vanilla along with sweat. Her mother already went to bed and her daughter couldn't sleep. Deciding to read more of his journal, Melaina opened to the spot that she placed her bookmark. Her eyes flickered over to the date and she noticed that it was the night before the Revolution... the last time that they were intimate.

Dearest Melaina,

Right now you're dozing while the moon's light hits your face oh so gently. I snuck out of bed to write this letter to you, hoping you'll find it once I'm gone. You're probably curious as to why I chose this night to be intimate with you.. it's because I know I won't come back alive. I've known since the day we were married that you wanted a child and when you miscarried... I knew you wanted one more than ever after that happened. I planned it this way because I knew I wouldn't get to see the child. I would never hold him or her, never watch them walk, smile, and run around with you. I would never get to see the smile of delight on your face as you chase them around the yard with Adelia at your heels. I hope the dog is okay. I will never get to see the absolute wonder on your face as our child brings something for you to look at. I won't get to experience any of that with you, and for that I apologize. I do have two more wishes for you. If we have a son, name him Leon. If we have a daughter, name her Clarisse. If we have one of each.. well, you know what to do.

I also want you to tell them stories about me, about our friends and my brothers. Tell them every story you can possibly remember. Jehan was nice enough to put a few sheets of parchment with more stories in case you forgot. Don't try to make us the heroes, just tell our child everything about us. Tell them that their Papa and uncles are looking down and watching. I also want you to re-marry because I want there to be a father figure in the child's life since I won't be present.

Stay strong and remember that I will always love you,

Alexander.

Melaina could feel tears sprinkle her cheeks and she didn't try to stop them. You knew all along... I... Alexander... Her thoughts were a whirlwind inside her mind and she re-read his words again, savoring them. Her fingers trailed across the dried ink and she sniffed gently before closing the book.

"I will respect your wishes, my love."