Chapter 12
18 Months Later, October 1853
Gustave had his feet up on his Uncle's desk. He was reading over a freshly printed newspaper, scanning for errors. His Uncle walked in and out of the room from time to time and finally lingered, waiting for his nephew's final corrections.
"Well, I haven't found one."
"You're joking."
"No, Uncle, I'm not. It's the first perfect edition you ever did as a first draft."
"In that case, I'm rather impressed with myself. I suppose that when you leave Paris again, I'll have to hire an editor."
"Everyone needs to work."
"Meaning you, too."
"That's why I'm going back to Rouen. I'm working with my father in his firm until I can ground myself again."
"You're only 21, Gustave. You still have a lifetime ahead of you."
"I know."
"I just can't help thinking that it's a mistake giving up on Claire so soon."
"I've been looking for her for three months. I've been everywhere from Grenoble to Cherbourg. I've come to think that she's disappeared from France entirely, or she's extremely good at keeping me on the run."
"Maybe she doesn't want to be found."
"But why not?" insisted the young man. "She loves me, I know she does."
"Two years is quite a gap. Things are liable to change in one's mind over a time span as large as that."
"What's the news?" asked Enjolras, taking the paper from Grantaire. He studied it cover to cover and glanced at Gustave. "There are no corrections."
"None were needed," grinned Gustave.
"Well done, Grantaire. See how good he is when he's off the bottle?"
"I haven't had a drink in years," Grantaire boasted as he left the room.
"So he says," Enjolras muttered walking towards the window. "So, tomorrow is our farewell?"
"For now."
"Yes, it's what you always say, but there will always be those late night inquires to look forward too." He now studied his godson. "Has Mademoiselle Merle crossed your mind lately?"
"More times than I can count," he sighed.
"Don't tell me you've given up. You will still look for her, won't you?"
"I think it's a lost cause. Besides, I need to move on. I'll meet another girl, and this time, I'll do things right."
"You know what everyone told me about the barricade? That it was a lost cause."
"It was."
"Maybe, but I fought to the death for it. Or at least close to it."
"This is different."
"How?" Enjolras crossed his arms and waited for Gustave to answer. He couldn't. "That's what I thought," Enjolras said, reopening his paper.
"How do I know she hasn't moved on?"
"I don't know. But Gustave," Enjolras said, walking out the door. "It's never a lost cause until you give it one last shot."
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"Your ticket, please, Monsieur."
Gustave handed the driver his ticket and climbed inside with three others on their way out of Paris. He took a seat on the farthest side. Next to him was an older gentleman, most likely a member of the clergy, and across from him was a married couple. The woman was pregnant, and the man was whispering to her. The carriage was about to leave, and the last piece of luggage was being strapped on. Gustave glanced around trying to memorize everything, even though he knew he would be back.
The carriage pulled away and passed the last streets of Paris. Towards the end, there was a marketplace, full of activity. However, in the crowd, Gustave seemed to glance at one woman. Not really a woman, but still not a girl. She had golden hair and skin that seemed to be tanned from being in the sun. She stood behind a stand, talking to a woman. Then Gustave's memory came into play. He knew that girl. It was the very girl he had been searching for. It was Claire.
"Excuse me?" he called to the driver. "Excuse me, could you please stop?"
"We make no stops until we get three miles outside of Paris, Monsieur."
"This is an emergency! Please stop!"
"I'm sorry, Monsieur, I cannot bend the rules."
Gustave hopelessly glanced out the window, picturing exactly where Claire was. He was going to get off at the first stop and go back to Claire even if it killed him.
The driver stopped three miles outside of Paris like he had said. The sun was glowing bright red, just about to set. Gustave hopped down, and grabbed his bag.
"Monsieur, you're not suppose to get off until Rouen."
"I have to go back to Paris."
"Monsieur, I advise you to get back inside. You won't be able to get another carriage back until morning, and the sun's just going down. Besides that, it's nearly a two-hour walk."
"If I need to walk, I will," he grunted, pulling his large suitcase behind him.
A little more than three hours later, the citizens of Paris were just turning out their lamps. Gustave walked up to the door and knocked. Azelma opened it, and sighed.
"What on earth do we have to do to get rid of you?" she asked, drawing him inside.
"You're back," Enjolras said, half asking and half observing.
"I saw Claire."
"That's a good reason for coming back."
"She's been here the entire time! In Paris!"
"Calm down. Where was she?"
"In the market."
"Alright, we'll go down there tomorrow and see about this."
"Your poor parents," laughed Azelma. "What do you think they're thinking we've done to you?"
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"I give up," sighed Marius, pushing the curtain aside. Eponine had her eyes closed and was lying on the couch.
"Where on earth could he be?" she said without opening her eyes.
"Still in Paris. I swear, the boy can't make up his mind."
"And why should he?"
"Well, for one thing, he should inform people that his plans have changed."
"Since when are you so worried about him? He's a man, so let him live on his own."
"This from his nurturing mother."
"I gave up that privilege when he got married." She sat up and stared at Marius.
"What on earth ever attracted you to me?"
"I was a very attractive young lady. Don't you remember?"
"Oh yes. Like it was yesterday." He played with her hair and she took his free hand.
"Tell me about it."
"Well, let's just say that your brother played a very crucial role in the whole thing."
"That I remember. What else?" Eponine asked, caressing his hand.
"If I'm not mistaken, you loved me as much as I loved you, but we were shy then."
"Us? Shy? I don't think you've heard the right story."
"Haven't I? At least it has a happy ending."
"As all good stories should." Marius pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. She laughed. "Marius, I'm afraid it's far too late for that."
"I gave it a shot," he said, kissing her forehead.
"You have your son to blame for that."
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"Can I help you, Monsieur?"
"Yes. I'm looking for a woman. She has blond hair and she's very tall and skinny."
"Claire?"
"That's her." Gustave looked anxiously at the girl behind the stand where Claire had stood just last night.
"It's Sunday, Monsieur. She always takes Sundays as personal days."
"Do you know where we could find her?" asked Enjolras, coming forward. The girl looked to the floor.
"We aren't suppose to give out that kind of information, Monsieurs."
"Please, we're old friends. It's extremely important that we find her."
The girl sighed, found a scrap of paper and a pencil, and wrote something quickly. She handed it hurriedly to Enjolras.
"You didn't find this out from me."
"Thank you, Mademoiselle," said Gustave as he pulled Enjolras away. "So, where are we headed?"
"Right near the university."
"That could be good."
"It's a boarding house, if my memory serves me. She lives well, or well enough to get by, judging from where she lives."
They silently walked across the city and to the address written on the dirty piece of paper. They looked up at the number on the building and back down to the rag.
"This is it?"
"I guess it's not as good as I remembered it to be," Enjolras said, opening the door.
They both looked around and saw a staircase off to the far left. They were about to go up to "36", as written on the paper, when a woman with jet black hair and a rather large frame came over to them.
"Good morning, Monsieurs. May I help you with anything?"
"Yes, we're looking for a woman named Claire in Room 36." Gustave felt the woman look them over.
"Monsieurs, if you don't mind me saying so, Claire is a good lady and she's never missed a payment. If you'll allow me," she said digging into her pocket and producing a few bills, "this should about cover it."
"No, Madame," Enjolras said, handing back the money. "We aren't bill collectors. We're old friends of hers and we've been meaning to see her."
"Oh, in that case," blushed the woman, putting the money back. "She's really in Room 14. We all say Room 36 as a cover."
"Thank you," they said taking to the staircase. They made their way down the hall and stood outside Room 14. Enjolras looked at Gustave.
"Would you like me to wait downstairs?"
"Could you?"
"Sure," said Enjolras, backing away and back downstairs.
Gustave sighed heavily. He knocked rather loudly on the door, and waited for what seemed like eternity. The door opened, and he saw her up close for the first time in two years. Her hair was hanging at shoulder length, and she had maintained her slender physique. She wore a simple dress with a soiled apron tied around her waist. She looked up at him, and gasped. She put one hand up to the doorframe to support her as her other hand brushed her face.
"Oh my God. Gustave..."
"Claire..." He couldn't hold back any longer. He needed her. He grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her. He heard her sob as he kissed the side of head. He released her and wiped the tears away from her eyes.
"How did you find me?"
"You didn't think I'd give up, did you?"
"But, Brigitte..."
He quieted her and kissed her. "I missed you so much."
"I don't understand."
"You will. You're going to come back to Rouen with me and we can figure everything out."
She began to cry again and looked at the floor. "I can't go back to Rouen with you, Gustave."
"Why not? Is it too small? That's fine, we can stay here for the time..."
"No, I mean I can't leave here."
"Why not?"
Gustave heard a strange noise, almost a gurgling sound, and he looked around to find it. He looked down, and wrapped around Claire's leg was a baby boy, maybe two years old.
"You're still a governess?"
"I guess you could say that."
"He's certainly a cute one." He picked up the child and started to speak baby talk to him. Claire bit her lip and continued to cry. "What's his name?"
"Marcelin...Pontmercy."
Gustave's glance froze on Claire. "What did you say?"
"I said his name is Marcelin Pontmercy. Gustave, he's our son," she sobbed.
Gustave studied the child. The boy was indeed nearly a mirror image of himself and his father, only much smaller. Claire had now gone back into the room and taken a seat in a chair. Gustave followed her in and took a place next to her.
"But...it was just once."
"I know. That's why I left Rouen, so that nobody would know I was having a child. So, I came here, but I couldn't bear to even think about marrying another man. I loved you too much to do that to myself."
"Claire, why do you care what everyone else thinks?"
"Because..."
"Why did you name him Marcelin?"
Claire smiled. "After your godfather. And you, in a way."
"That name's like a disease."
"So is pneumonia. I heard what happened in Lille. I prayed that you and Brigitte wouldn't get it. She got it, didn't she?"
"Yes, she died in April last year."
"I'm so sorry."
"It's been a while. I've learned to get past it. My God, do you know how long I've been looking for you? Months. I traveled everywhere to try and find you, but you were here the entire time."
"I wish you hadn't found me. You weren't suppose to know about the baby."
"Well, I do, and we're going to work things out."
"I hate to interrupt," said Enjolras, coming inside, "but you seem to have forgotten to close the door." He demonstrated this by actually closing it. Claire came up to him and hugged him. "Now, who's that?" Enjolras asked, pointing to Marcelin.
Gustave smiled and brought his son over to his godfather. "Enjolras, meet your great-godson, Marcelin."
"Marcelin, huh?" smirked Enjolras.
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A/N - Hello. One more chapter folks. Seriously, if I don't get more than 25 reviews, and not ALL from Sandra Athrenael, I might not do Chapter 13 a.k.a. Epilogue, and you may never find out what happens with Claire, Gustave, and Marcelin. How do you like them apples? (I personally like Granny Smith, but whatever suits you is good.)
18 Months Later, October 1853
Gustave had his feet up on his Uncle's desk. He was reading over a freshly printed newspaper, scanning for errors. His Uncle walked in and out of the room from time to time and finally lingered, waiting for his nephew's final corrections.
"Well, I haven't found one."
"You're joking."
"No, Uncle, I'm not. It's the first perfect edition you ever did as a first draft."
"In that case, I'm rather impressed with myself. I suppose that when you leave Paris again, I'll have to hire an editor."
"Everyone needs to work."
"Meaning you, too."
"That's why I'm going back to Rouen. I'm working with my father in his firm until I can ground myself again."
"You're only 21, Gustave. You still have a lifetime ahead of you."
"I know."
"I just can't help thinking that it's a mistake giving up on Claire so soon."
"I've been looking for her for three months. I've been everywhere from Grenoble to Cherbourg. I've come to think that she's disappeared from France entirely, or she's extremely good at keeping me on the run."
"Maybe she doesn't want to be found."
"But why not?" insisted the young man. "She loves me, I know she does."
"Two years is quite a gap. Things are liable to change in one's mind over a time span as large as that."
"What's the news?" asked Enjolras, taking the paper from Grantaire. He studied it cover to cover and glanced at Gustave. "There are no corrections."
"None were needed," grinned Gustave.
"Well done, Grantaire. See how good he is when he's off the bottle?"
"I haven't had a drink in years," Grantaire boasted as he left the room.
"So he says," Enjolras muttered walking towards the window. "So, tomorrow is our farewell?"
"For now."
"Yes, it's what you always say, but there will always be those late night inquires to look forward too." He now studied his godson. "Has Mademoiselle Merle crossed your mind lately?"
"More times than I can count," he sighed.
"Don't tell me you've given up. You will still look for her, won't you?"
"I think it's a lost cause. Besides, I need to move on. I'll meet another girl, and this time, I'll do things right."
"You know what everyone told me about the barricade? That it was a lost cause."
"It was."
"Maybe, but I fought to the death for it. Or at least close to it."
"This is different."
"How?" Enjolras crossed his arms and waited for Gustave to answer. He couldn't. "That's what I thought," Enjolras said, reopening his paper.
"How do I know she hasn't moved on?"
"I don't know. But Gustave," Enjolras said, walking out the door. "It's never a lost cause until you give it one last shot."
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"Your ticket, please, Monsieur."
Gustave handed the driver his ticket and climbed inside with three others on their way out of Paris. He took a seat on the farthest side. Next to him was an older gentleman, most likely a member of the clergy, and across from him was a married couple. The woman was pregnant, and the man was whispering to her. The carriage was about to leave, and the last piece of luggage was being strapped on. Gustave glanced around trying to memorize everything, even though he knew he would be back.
The carriage pulled away and passed the last streets of Paris. Towards the end, there was a marketplace, full of activity. However, in the crowd, Gustave seemed to glance at one woman. Not really a woman, but still not a girl. She had golden hair and skin that seemed to be tanned from being in the sun. She stood behind a stand, talking to a woman. Then Gustave's memory came into play. He knew that girl. It was the very girl he had been searching for. It was Claire.
"Excuse me?" he called to the driver. "Excuse me, could you please stop?"
"We make no stops until we get three miles outside of Paris, Monsieur."
"This is an emergency! Please stop!"
"I'm sorry, Monsieur, I cannot bend the rules."
Gustave hopelessly glanced out the window, picturing exactly where Claire was. He was going to get off at the first stop and go back to Claire even if it killed him.
The driver stopped three miles outside of Paris like he had said. The sun was glowing bright red, just about to set. Gustave hopped down, and grabbed his bag.
"Monsieur, you're not suppose to get off until Rouen."
"I have to go back to Paris."
"Monsieur, I advise you to get back inside. You won't be able to get another carriage back until morning, and the sun's just going down. Besides that, it's nearly a two-hour walk."
"If I need to walk, I will," he grunted, pulling his large suitcase behind him.
A little more than three hours later, the citizens of Paris were just turning out their lamps. Gustave walked up to the door and knocked. Azelma opened it, and sighed.
"What on earth do we have to do to get rid of you?" she asked, drawing him inside.
"You're back," Enjolras said, half asking and half observing.
"I saw Claire."
"That's a good reason for coming back."
"She's been here the entire time! In Paris!"
"Calm down. Where was she?"
"In the market."
"Alright, we'll go down there tomorrow and see about this."
"Your poor parents," laughed Azelma. "What do you think they're thinking we've done to you?"
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"I give up," sighed Marius, pushing the curtain aside. Eponine had her eyes closed and was lying on the couch.
"Where on earth could he be?" she said without opening her eyes.
"Still in Paris. I swear, the boy can't make up his mind."
"And why should he?"
"Well, for one thing, he should inform people that his plans have changed."
"Since when are you so worried about him? He's a man, so let him live on his own."
"This from his nurturing mother."
"I gave up that privilege when he got married." She sat up and stared at Marius.
"What on earth ever attracted you to me?"
"I was a very attractive young lady. Don't you remember?"
"Oh yes. Like it was yesterday." He played with her hair and she took his free hand.
"Tell me about it."
"Well, let's just say that your brother played a very crucial role in the whole thing."
"That I remember. What else?" Eponine asked, caressing his hand.
"If I'm not mistaken, you loved me as much as I loved you, but we were shy then."
"Us? Shy? I don't think you've heard the right story."
"Haven't I? At least it has a happy ending."
"As all good stories should." Marius pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. She laughed. "Marius, I'm afraid it's far too late for that."
"I gave it a shot," he said, kissing her forehead.
"You have your son to blame for that."
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"Can I help you, Monsieur?"
"Yes. I'm looking for a woman. She has blond hair and she's very tall and skinny."
"Claire?"
"That's her." Gustave looked anxiously at the girl behind the stand where Claire had stood just last night.
"It's Sunday, Monsieur. She always takes Sundays as personal days."
"Do you know where we could find her?" asked Enjolras, coming forward. The girl looked to the floor.
"We aren't suppose to give out that kind of information, Monsieurs."
"Please, we're old friends. It's extremely important that we find her."
The girl sighed, found a scrap of paper and a pencil, and wrote something quickly. She handed it hurriedly to Enjolras.
"You didn't find this out from me."
"Thank you, Mademoiselle," said Gustave as he pulled Enjolras away. "So, where are we headed?"
"Right near the university."
"That could be good."
"It's a boarding house, if my memory serves me. She lives well, or well enough to get by, judging from where she lives."
They silently walked across the city and to the address written on the dirty piece of paper. They looked up at the number on the building and back down to the rag.
"This is it?"
"I guess it's not as good as I remembered it to be," Enjolras said, opening the door.
They both looked around and saw a staircase off to the far left. They were about to go up to "36", as written on the paper, when a woman with jet black hair and a rather large frame came over to them.
"Good morning, Monsieurs. May I help you with anything?"
"Yes, we're looking for a woman named Claire in Room 36." Gustave felt the woman look them over.
"Monsieurs, if you don't mind me saying so, Claire is a good lady and she's never missed a payment. If you'll allow me," she said digging into her pocket and producing a few bills, "this should about cover it."
"No, Madame," Enjolras said, handing back the money. "We aren't bill collectors. We're old friends of hers and we've been meaning to see her."
"Oh, in that case," blushed the woman, putting the money back. "She's really in Room 14. We all say Room 36 as a cover."
"Thank you," they said taking to the staircase. They made their way down the hall and stood outside Room 14. Enjolras looked at Gustave.
"Would you like me to wait downstairs?"
"Could you?"
"Sure," said Enjolras, backing away and back downstairs.
Gustave sighed heavily. He knocked rather loudly on the door, and waited for what seemed like eternity. The door opened, and he saw her up close for the first time in two years. Her hair was hanging at shoulder length, and she had maintained her slender physique. She wore a simple dress with a soiled apron tied around her waist. She looked up at him, and gasped. She put one hand up to the doorframe to support her as her other hand brushed her face.
"Oh my God. Gustave..."
"Claire..." He couldn't hold back any longer. He needed her. He grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her. He heard her sob as he kissed the side of head. He released her and wiped the tears away from her eyes.
"How did you find me?"
"You didn't think I'd give up, did you?"
"But, Brigitte..."
He quieted her and kissed her. "I missed you so much."
"I don't understand."
"You will. You're going to come back to Rouen with me and we can figure everything out."
She began to cry again and looked at the floor. "I can't go back to Rouen with you, Gustave."
"Why not? Is it too small? That's fine, we can stay here for the time..."
"No, I mean I can't leave here."
"Why not?"
Gustave heard a strange noise, almost a gurgling sound, and he looked around to find it. He looked down, and wrapped around Claire's leg was a baby boy, maybe two years old.
"You're still a governess?"
"I guess you could say that."
"He's certainly a cute one." He picked up the child and started to speak baby talk to him. Claire bit her lip and continued to cry. "What's his name?"
"Marcelin...Pontmercy."
Gustave's glance froze on Claire. "What did you say?"
"I said his name is Marcelin Pontmercy. Gustave, he's our son," she sobbed.
Gustave studied the child. The boy was indeed nearly a mirror image of himself and his father, only much smaller. Claire had now gone back into the room and taken a seat in a chair. Gustave followed her in and took a place next to her.
"But...it was just once."
"I know. That's why I left Rouen, so that nobody would know I was having a child. So, I came here, but I couldn't bear to even think about marrying another man. I loved you too much to do that to myself."
"Claire, why do you care what everyone else thinks?"
"Because..."
"Why did you name him Marcelin?"
Claire smiled. "After your godfather. And you, in a way."
"That name's like a disease."
"So is pneumonia. I heard what happened in Lille. I prayed that you and Brigitte wouldn't get it. She got it, didn't she?"
"Yes, she died in April last year."
"I'm so sorry."
"It's been a while. I've learned to get past it. My God, do you know how long I've been looking for you? Months. I traveled everywhere to try and find you, but you were here the entire time."
"I wish you hadn't found me. You weren't suppose to know about the baby."
"Well, I do, and we're going to work things out."
"I hate to interrupt," said Enjolras, coming inside, "but you seem to have forgotten to close the door." He demonstrated this by actually closing it. Claire came up to him and hugged him. "Now, who's that?" Enjolras asked, pointing to Marcelin.
Gustave smiled and brought his son over to his godfather. "Enjolras, meet your great-godson, Marcelin."
"Marcelin, huh?" smirked Enjolras.
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A/N - Hello. One more chapter folks. Seriously, if I don't get more than 25 reviews, and not ALL from Sandra Athrenael, I might not do Chapter 13 a.k.a. Epilogue, and you may never find out what happens with Claire, Gustave, and Marcelin. How do you like them apples? (I personally like Granny Smith, but whatever suits you is good.)