Standard disclaimers apply.
Notes: Last chapter! I kind of go off randomly on things that aren't really important. Sorry. ; So I suppose if you want, you can go ahead and skip everything from when the court is adjourned to when I start talking about the execution. B-but... you all wouldn't really do that... would you?
Also, I want to plug my new webpage, on which you can find all of my fics. It should be in my profile. As of yet, there's nothing special, but I'll put some special thingies up soon. I promise. So go look. It'll make me happy.
"Hang me, as well!"
Grantaire's voice rang through the silent courtroom, and all eyes were instantly on him. Even the judge looked taken aback. What was he supposed to say to that?
"P-pardon?"
"Hang me as well!" Grantaire repeated. "I am as much a part of the revolution as he!"
"V-v-very well..."the judge said uncertainly. Surely if the boy wished to be hanged, he wasn't one to stop him. And the Lord knew that it would do the city no harm to be rid of one more rebellious student... it would please the people as well, for they always liked a hanging. "Very well," the judge repeated. "If you wish to throw your life away alongside this rebel, do so."
So, Grantaire was led out along with Enjolras. The judge banged his gavel and announced that court was adjourned. Cosette rose from her seat and rushed to Marius, embracing him without a care of what anyone else in the room might think. Musichetta rose with her, but didn't go straight to Bossuet, pausing to watch him for a moment instead.
Feuilly was hunched over, face in hands, now quite clearly sobbing. Bossuet hovered nervously around him, then put a tentative hand on the other boy's shoulder. Feuilly fell into him, wrapping his fists in Bossuet's shirt like a child clinging to his mother's skirts for comfort.
"Poor dear," Musichetta murmured, going over to the pair. Marius and Cosette headed over, too, Cosette gently stroking Feuilly's hair until he moved from Bossuet and wept into her instead. Bossuet explained Feuilly's situation to Marius in a low voice, but Cosette caught phrases- such as "four younger sisters" and "invalid brother"- that made her wrap her arms more tightly around the poor orphan fan maker.
"Do not worry, Pascal," Cosette said gently, for she didn't really care for the formality of calling people by their last names. She didn't find it very comforting.
"Marius and I will help your family until you return. Hush, hush, and don't cry. I know, I know they're going to come get you soon... would you like Marius or me to come along?"
"N-no," he said, straightening and wiping his eyes. "I'll be alright. Thank you, Mademoiselle...?" He trailed off, unable to recall what her name was, if he'd ever known it.
"Just call me Cosette."
Combeferre stood closer to the back of the room, his brother Louis at his side. The two had been joined by a smaller boy, clearly another brother for he and Combeferre's faces were identical. He was at least a foot shorter, though, and had a mass of auburn curls a bit like Courfeyrac's had been while Combeferre's hair was thin, straight, and brown. Combeferre and Louis were talking, and the younger boy was trying eagerly to cut in, though he had no idea what they were talking about.
As Louis talked, Combeferre didn't really listen. He watched over his brother's shoulder as the dark haired girl in the black dress comforted Feuilly, then watched as he was led away. It truly wasn't fair. But he couldn't complain. He could have stood up with Grantaire and demanded to be hanged or imprisoned as well, but he hadn't. He wasn't brave enough. How ironic, that Grantaire would turn out to be the bravest of all of them.
The crowd was starting to disperse. Marius, Cosette on his arm, went over to Combeferre. Combeferre half-listened to him talk, nodding distractedly. He couldn't keep back a wry grin as Marius's demure-faced, brown-curled fiancé stuck out her tiny foot to trip a man who was talking loudly about how he'd have to be sure to go watch the hanging. The man stumbled and looked angrily over his shoulder, but Cosette had already drawn her foot back in and was standing politely at Marius's side, her eyes turned modestly down. Marius couldn't have picked a better girl.
"We are invited to the wedding, yes?" Musichetta asked as she and Bossuet passed. She was holding his hand tightly and would every so often touch his arm, as if to make sure he was really there.
"Of course!" Cosette said, clasping her hands delightedly. She glanced up at Marius, as if to confirm, and at his small nod, beamed at Musichetta and Bossuet. Musichetta returned the smile, but Bossuet couldn't quite manage it. The pair took their leave.
"Poor Marius hasn't slept at all for more than a week," Cosette said apologetically to Combeferre and Louis. "We must get home. Will you be in Paris long, M'sieur Combeferre? We must have them for dinner, Marius."
Louis laughed and Cosette smiled with satisfaction. This was just what being Marius's wife would be like, and she was enjoying every instant of it. Oh, to hold his arm without shame, to call them 'us' and 'we', as though they were one rather than two. She clung tightly to Marius's arm as they left the courthouse and stepped into the carriage, waving to the three Combeferre boys. When they were out of sight, she sat back, leaning her head against Marius's shoulder.
"I think you did wonderfully," she said, smiling up at him.
"If I had done so wonderfully, they all would be free," Marius said flatly. Cosette bit her lip.
"I think you did well... M'sieur Combeferre and..."
"Yes, and what of Feuilly and Enjolras and Grantaire?" Marius snapped. Cosette sat up quickly. "The goal is to get everyone off, not just a few of them. Not just those who have rich brothers who can conveniently testify and happen to be exquisite liars."
"I-I'm sorry," Cosette said softly, her lower lip starting to tremble. Oh, how childish! She just couldn't bare the embarrassment if she were to start crying before Marius. But then again... shouldn't she make him apologize? Papa always said one ought be honest and if she were to lie about being upset... and in a book she'd once read, the lady always cried prettily when she didn't get her way, and then the men always gave it. Sure, it was just a silly book, but...
Marius stiffened, then looked with alarm at his bride-to-be as she burst into noisy tears. Marius fumbled in his pocket until he managed to produce his handkerchief, which he handed to Cosette.
"I'm sorry, dearest, I didn't mean... I didn't mean to speak sharply to you..."
Cosette sniffed and dabbed at her eyes, straightening her back and saying nothing. Marius looked at Cosette with pained eyes, but she refused to look at him. This was truly not his day. He lost, and now Cosette was angry at him... she was lucky. She was a girl. She could cry and no one would think less of her. He, being a boy, could never do that.
Cosette glanced out of the corner of her eye at Marius. He looked so forlorn, scooted as far from her as he could, his shoulders hunched, glaring at the ground. She bit her lip, then scooted over to him and lay her head on his shoulder.
"I forgive you, Marius," she said, smiling. Now she knew what those girls meant when they said that the wife was truly the master of the house.
"Musi, I have to stop somewhere before we go home," Bossuet said. The pair was walking, lacking a carriage. Musichetta nodded.
"Alright. I'll go with you."
"No, you won't..."
"I didn't ask your opinion," Musichetta said, laying a hand on his arm. "I'm going."
So Musichetta followed Bossuet as he led her into a part of town she'd been to a few times, though she didn't tell Bossuet that. It was in her worse days, before she'd met him and Joly. She wordlessly accompanied him into a building and up the stairs, and stood behind him with her hands politely folded as he stopped and knocked on a door.
"Pascaaal!" the door was flung open by a little girl with dark curls who rushed into the hall and flung her arms around Bossuet's legs. Then she blinked and backed warily away as she realized that it wasn't Pascal at all. She stood in the doorway; her little hands planted firmly, one on each side of the doorway, barring the way. Three other little dark-haired girls rushed to the door as well, then stopped as they saw Bossuet and Musichetta.
"Where's Pascal?" one of the youngest demanded, her tiny, dark brown furrowed.
"Who is there, Etoile?" an older girl called from inside.
"A bald man and a lady," the one blocking the doorway, Etoile, said cautiously. The older girl came to the doorway as well, and looked startled when she saw Bossuet.
"Oh! Monsieur... L'aigle, yes?"
"Mademoiselle Valerie," he said, partly as greeting and partly to let Musichetta know who this was.
"Well, come in, come in! Whatever brings you here? Etoile, let him through."
"No," the girl said stubbornly. "I don't like him."
"Etoile!" Valerie gasped, horrified. "Step out of the way this instant! You will not speak to Pascal's friends that way!"
Etoile gave Bossuet a dark look- one he found surprisingly evil for a girl who couldn't be over ten years old- then crossed her arms and stormed out of the doorway. Valerie looked apologetically to Bossuet as she shooed the other three out of the way.
"Don't mind Etoile, she's only been acting this way since an hour or so ago."
"O-Oh..." Bossuet said. An hour or so... that was when Feuilly had been convicted. Could the little girl somehow know? He stepped inside, motioning for Musichetta to follow.
"This is Musichetta," Bossuet said, gesturing to her. "Musi, that's Valerie, and the little ones are...er..."
"Elise, Mardi, and Coralie... and you met Etoile," Valerie said, her tone again apologetic at the last name. She turned to Bossuet. "Pascal isn't in... though you know that. But oh... you've been freed... where is Pascal?"
"Pascal... oh! Is that the poor boy they... Monsieur Feuilly?" Musichetta asked, her hand flying to her mouth. What scant color she'd had left Valerie's face and she clasped her hands together, her dark eyes wide.
"What has happened? Where is he?"
Bossuet leaned his head close to Valerie's and spoke in a low voice, so that even Musichetta couldn't hear what he said. Valerie obviously could, though, for when Bossuet finished she stumbled backwards, her hands clenched in her skirt. She groped behind herself for a chair but finding none sat heavily on the floor.
"Oh! Sister, are you alright?" the girl called Elise asked. She was the next oldest girl, after Valerie, but she was only about twelve. Valerie smiled faintly.
"Yes, yes... fine... come help me up, I just tripped..."
"Where is Pascal?" Elise inquired as she helped Valerie to her feet. "He hasn't... I heard you and Augustin talking. You said Pascal was in trouble. He isn't in trouble, is he?"
"Of course not, dearest," Valerie cooed, and Bossuet admired her acting talents. "He just has to go away for a bit... he's found a- a job, you see, and he has to go away, but not for very long..."
"Oh, no!" Elise cried. "No, no, he can't!"
"Come, come, Elise, it's for the better... think, you'll be able to have pretty dresses..."
"Pretty dresses?" the one called Mardi asked, cocking her head to the side. Her own dress had had three previous owners and it showed. She was immediately attentive to any conversation involving something pretty. "When?"
"Come, come, girls!" Valerie laughed as three little dark heads clustered around her, tugging her skirts and asking her questions. "I'll tell all in a moment! I must ask speak to Augustin first, so move along. I'm sure Madame L'aigle would love to play with you."
Musichetta and Bossuet's cheeks reddened at being taken for husband and wife, but the three little girls didn't seem to notice as they hurried to Musichetta and began tugging her skirts and bombarding her with questions. Musichetta absently ruffled the curls of one of the little girls, but her eyes were following Valerie as she strode across the room to a boy whom she hadn't even noticed at first.
"Oh, Olivier," Musichetta whispered, having gotten the little girls distracted by removing her hat and letting them marvel over it. "They're so poor. Whatever are they going to do?"
"I don't..."
"We must help somehow! And Madame Cosette- M'sieur Pontmercy's wife, don't you know- she would help, I just know it... oh, come, he's a lawyer, he's rich, and goodness knows you and I haven't any money."
"I'm not sure that they'd wish for-"
"Don't be a fool, Olivier. Mam'selle Valerie can say it's the money M'sieur Feuilly sent, if she doesn't wish the little ones to know, they don't have to."
"I'm still not-"
"Oh, hush. You don't know what you're talking about."
The execution was scheduled for only three days after the trial. They wanted to make it as soon as possible, to give no time for the 'dangerous rebels' to escape. Marius tried in vain to forbid Cosette's coming, but she insisted that she had to be there to support him. Marius was grateful for her presence, though he could never ever admit it.
Cosette was horrified at the size of the crowd that had gathered. What pleasure did these people have in watching a poor boy hang? Little barefooted gamin shoved through the crowd to get as close as they could. Looking at them, Marius wondered if, had he lived, Gavroche would have been among them. He absently patted Cosette's hand, which rested on his arm. He'd been in a daze since he'd woken up that morning, and the whole day had a surreal, dream-like quality to it. Surely Enjolras wasn't just now being led up to the gallows, Grantaire behind him. He felt Cosette's hand tighten on his arm, but even that had a dull, faraway feel. It was as though he was just watching it happen from someplace very far away. He was only watching, he wasn't truly there as Grantaire first stepped forward and the hangman placed the noose about his neck. Cosette's scream as he stepped off of the platform was muted. But then he heard the crack. It was scarcely audible, but it was enough to rip him viciously from his dreamy state and plunge him into reality. The crack as the rope went taut and Grantaire's neck snapped.
"Oh, God, Marius," Cosette gasped and hid her face in his coat. He put his hand on the back of her head and pressed it firmly against him, hoping she wouldn't feel that his heart was going as fast as a rabbit's.
As Enjolras was lead up, three girls leaned their heads together and whispered to each other. Cosette leaned slightly towards them, wanting to know what they were saying. If it was something bad, she told herself, well, she would not stand for that. Then she heard something like "such a fair face" and paid the girls no more mind. She looked hesitantly back to the platform and saw the rope being slipped over Enjolras's neck. He stood so straight and looked so proud... to Cosette, he looked no different from when in the court room, and to Marius no different from when he was on the barricade, or in the café.
He took a step forward, then another and he was balancing right on the edge. Cosette felt Marius's hand on her shoulder tighten. She glanced back at him, pale-faced and tight-lipped, then looked forward once more and saw that Enjolras was looking at them. His eyes were so blue, she thought, a pretty, clear blue. Not dark, grey-blue like hers. The two shades of blue met, then the contact was abruptly broken. The hangman had grown impatient and had pushed Enjolras off. Cosette cried out and only then realized that she had been holding her breath.
Marius made no sound, but tightened his hand even more on Cosette's shoulder. Enjolras truly did look, to him, like some sort of God or angel. The sunlight danced on his golden curls as they swung slightly, still caught in the momentum of being pushed. Angels, Cosette thought, were not made to dangle on the ends of nooses.