Hello, all!

I am sorry for the delay! It was terribly mean of me. My life has been crazy with a capital C, but has mellowed down quite a bit. I shall try to not let it happen again. Again, I am so very sorry.

That being said, THANK YOU! to all the reviewers. I really appreciate you all, and I can't begin to put my thanks into words. Your reviews make my day and keep me going. I really do love hearing from you...getting feedback rocks my socks!

This chapter nearly killed me...I wanted it to be just right, and every time I touched it it just didn't seem right. I hope you are pleased with it, and please please please let me know what you think!

Okay...enough said, I think. So now I present to you Chapter Six

Thanks again for all the fabulous support!

Beautiful Revolution

ps...I told you that this chapter would be long :P

Alexa was awakened by the sound of Luka's wracking cough and slowly pushed the faded quilt off of her tired body to go see to him. She looked to see what time it was only to remember that there was no longer a clock above the mantle. Rubbing her palm against her tired eyes, she sat up in the chair, letting her legs fall to the floor and stretch out of their cramped position. But the sound of Luka made her quickly get to her feet, and she winced as her joints cracked back into place. She went to the kitchen first, grabbing the bottle of medicine and filling a cup with water, and then went into his room. But when she got there she found him bent over on the floor, unable to catch his breath due to the intensity of his coughing. Alexa quickly set the medicine and glass on the ground and ran over to him, pulling the blanket off the bed and wrapping him with it. She felt his forehead, and instantly withdrew her hand at the heat of his fever.

"Christ, your burning up. Here," she reached for the water and held his head up as he tried to drink, supporting his chin in the palm of her hand; but he choked on the water before he could swallow, and tears streamed down his face as he fought for the breath that would not come. He was shivering violently, his face ashen with fever. Alexa pulled him to her, one arm across his back and the other across his torso, knowing there was no way to ease his pain.

"I'm cold, Neni," he cried quietly into her shoulder, "so cold."

"Don't worry, honey, we're going to the doctor," she whispered into his ear as she gathered his small body into her arms, cradling him on her hip as she moved out of the bedroom and made towards the door. She went to the chair and grabbed her blanket, wrapping it around him as she threw open the door. Locking it behind her she flew down the stairs and out into the cold night street, following the path back to Dr. Myriel.

The moon shone down on the cobbled pavement beneath him, dancing in the water that had gathered between the stones. Erik had no idea what time it was; the darkness of the night and position of the moon revealed nothing to him, and he reminded himself that it did not really matter. He made his way to his home in silence, with no companion but his own troubled thoughts.

He realized now that, with Christine, his love had turned into obsession. He had hoped that in her he would find someone who could look past the deformity and accept him as he was. But his hopes had been shattered by his own doing; the basic need to be loved had shut out the voice of reason, and in his tempestuous passion he had driven her away. In her rejection what was left of his tattered soul had died, and after a year of empty days and restless nights he had found himself unable to bear the weighted pain of life. And so he had left his home this evening for what he had thought to be his last time, ready to end the heartache and misery that he knew so well because he could no longer face the world alone. But as he prepared to say goodbye to the world forever, Alexa had come, pulling him away from his suicidal mission. Why now? he thought. Why again?

He found his mind straying to the beautiful woman whose image now plagued his thoughts: the curve of her waist, dark hair pinned at her neck, eyes that reflected the very depths of the ocean. Thinking of her brought a torrent of burning questions that seated at the front of his mind, and he felt a growing anger build up inside of him. She had used him, he realized, whether she knew it or not. He saw now that the only thing she had cared about was the boy; she would have treated Erik no differently had he been anyone else, so desperate was she to find a companion for her son. And though he should have been grateful for the small comfort of being treated as a man and not a monster, he knew that the motives behind it were tainted with selfish preservation.

But as soon as the thought entered his mind he knew that he was wrong and he brushed it aside; she had nothing to gain in what she was doing. She was hurting herself as much as Luka, losing not only the ability to trust in others but, inevitably, the trust of a little boy who through her attempts at friendship with others was only being shown the ignorance and contempt of the world. He could all too easily imagine the reactions of his predecessors, those whom she had trusted to accept Luka but had failed. Experience had taught Erik to expect the disgust and repulsion that accompanied his unmasking, but there was no way Luka could understand what he had done to merit this behavior. He knew that the child would interpret their reaction as being merited, to some wrong he had unknowingly committed that made him an abomination to the human race. He knew.

Her selfless protection of her son was unfamiliar to Erik, and he once again found himself reflecting on his contemptible childhood. The betrayal of the mother he had never known came to his mind; how she had distanced herself from him in every way possible, treating him like a disease that followed her about in innocent naïveté, not understanding the contempt in her voice, the hatred and disgust in her every glance. But Luka had the love of a mother who did not see the face but rather the heart that beat inside. She loved him, scars and all.

Based on the meager furnishings in the home Erik guessed that they did not live comfortably, despite the respectable neighborhood and elegant, if not outdated, clothing that she had worn. The condition of the furniture, the chipped wood of the table and the faded chair that sat before an empty fireplace, all told him that what little they did have had more than likely belonged to several people before they had come into her possession. He noticed that she had not offered a spoon when serving the tea, and the walls were bare save for the murals. The only thing he had seen that could have alluded to any worth at all was the small vial of medicine.

Soon Erik turned the corner that led to his home, but rather than standing in a dark and sleeping street Erik found himself facing a window that glowed in flickering candlelight. He had expected to see the street completely void of life, but when he turned the corner he found himself faced with a dim light that burned behind a window too clouded from age and dirt to give him a clear view of the interior room. Myriel…

The doctor's office, whose window now illuminated the night, sat on the road opposite Erik's flat. A little bespectacled man, Jean Myriel prided himself in being able to relate to the everyday people who passed through his home. On the rare occasions when he ventured outside in the day Erik would see the old man through the open door, sitting at a desk or standing beside a patient. Erik had heard rumors surrounding the doctor, stories about a tragic past that included the loss of his entire family in less than a year's time. It was said that the poor man had almost died from grief, but instead of succumbing to the pain he had found solace in his profession. It was as if by healing those around him he was somehow making up for his inability to save his wife and daughter.

The small brick home that had been transformed into a sanctuary for the sick and ailing masses usually bustled with business as people came to seek out his medical opinion, but Erik could hardly understand what would keep the doctor up at this late hour. He did not know the time but had no doubt that it was well into the early hours of the morning.

He shook his head and turned his back on the office, but as he did the wind caught the wooden signboard that hung above the doorway, causing it to bang against the wall in a loud succession of taps that drew Erik's attention away pavement and up to the warped sign. Looking up at the oak marker, his eyes widened as realization dawned on him… The medicine.

Erik finally remembered where he had recognized the parcel. He stopped walking, unable to move his feet from the irritation and anger of not identifying it earlier. I'll be damned, he thought. Now that he realized it he could not believe that he had failed to placed it's origin before.

How could he forget the symbol of a lily of the valley, it's flowering heads dropped in humble supplication, whose stem wound around the flower and turned upward, into the tail and body of what became a dragonfly. It had been on the label of the bottle that contained the medicine for Luka, and it was painted on the signpost that hung above the doctor's workplace that stood erected not half a minute's walk from Erik's home.

He always wondered about the meaning behind the odd but beautiful symbol, and was drawn to its simple complexity. At first glance it appeared to be nothing more than a flower with a doting insect hovering dutifully above it, but upon closer inspection it showed that the body of the insect was indeed a part of the flower, and the stem that connected both the bloom and the dragonfly wound it's way in an intricate design whose loops and turns were impossible to trace.

Erik leaned against the wall, not believing the coincident that fate was playing out before him. Why was this happening to him? Why, when he had been so close to ignoring the pain inside of him, did providence interfere and throw his anguish back in his face?

"Dr. Myriel! Please, doctor, open the door!" Alexa sobbed as she pounded her clenched fist against the door. She paused to give him a chance to answer her incessant calls, and looked down at Luka, whose shaking had not quelled and whose skin burned white with fever. She held onto him tighter, cursing the doctor for his slowness and damning the sickness that was stealing Luka's life.

"Jean!" She had begun to pound the door again, but was silenced when she saw a light come on behind the opaque window. The door creaked open, and an elderly man with tired eyes stared out from behind the door. His expression of annoyance dissipated as he looked between Alexa, whose tear stained cheeks were red from exertion, and Luka, whose whole body shook and dripped with sweat.

He quickly moved out of the way, giving Alexa room to enter. "Come in. What happened?"

"I don't know,"Alexa spoke over her shoulder as she walked past the doctor, through the waiting area, and into a small bedroom where she carefully laid Luka down, covering him in blankets and quilts. He had stopped coughing, but his breathing had become shallow and broken. "He took the medicine and went to sleep fine, but then," her voice broke as Dr. Myriel gently pushed her out of his way and felt the weak heart of the little boy lying before him. She took a deep breath as she tried to calm herself. "But then, I woke up and heard him coughing, and when I went into his room he was on the floor, and he was shaking and his forehead was burning up."

The doctor felt his forehead, and shook his head. "Go get cold water, and a rag."

She quickly left the room and walked the few steps to the sink where she began filling a bowl with water from the tap.

"He complained of being cold," she explained to him from the kitchen as she did his bidding. "But his forehead was on fire."

"He has a fever. Come, bring the water."

Entering the room again, Alexa looked down at Luka as she returned with a large basin of freezing water and a tattered cloth which she quickly dipped into it and placed it, sopping wet, into the outstretched hands of the doctor.

"Thank you, Alexa." He looked up to her as he reached for the cloth, and noted her haggard appearance. "Maybe it would be best for you to wait outside."

"No. I'm not leaving him. I need to-"

"It was not a request, my dear. Now go, I'll be out when I'm done." He spoke with gentleness as he gently placed the wet cloth on Luka's forehead.

But she did not move and continued to look down at the sickly child that gently stirred beneath the doctor's healing hands. "Alexa, leave." He looked up then, and his features softened as he realized that she had not heard him, her full attention directed on Luka. He put his hand on her shoulder, making her meet his eye. "Please, go out and wait. Try to rest a while. You will do him no good fretting over him and wearing yourself out. Go." He returned his concentration to the little boy.

With a sigh she slowly turned and walked out of the room, pushing the door shut behind her. Once outside she leaned against the wall, fighting back the tears that now stung her eyes. You can't do this, she thought, turning her eyes to stare heavenwards. Not now. Shaking her head, Alexa wiped away a dissenting tear that had escaped from between her dark lashes. She refused to let herself cry; she couldn't. Turning down the hallway she walked into the kitchen and turned on the water and, placing her hand underneath the faucet, watched as the clear rivulet slowly trickled over her outstretched palm. She brought a cupped handful of water to her face and dashed away her tears, but the anxiety that had been building inside of her would not be so easily dissuaded. She resigned herself to wait in the front room and pace, closing her eyes against the despair that threatened to overwhelm her heart.

From inside the room Jean Myriel carefully examined Luka, and the severity of the little boy's condition was becoming painfully obvious. I should have seen him sooner, he thought. But he had not known, and was now faced with the daunting task of reversing the damage that had been inflicted by the disease that now raged in the small child's body.

His gaze slowly drifted up to the disfigured cheek and an involuntary shudder shook his body; he did not think he would ever be able to comfortably look at that face; how Alexa lived with him everyday, having to look at it, was beyond his comprehension. But he had to remind himself that the face does not make the person, remembering that Luka was a brilliant child, the perfect little boy save for the deformity. Thanking God that the little boy had someone like Alexa to care for him, he chided himself for his unconscious reaction he returned his attention to the task at hand.

Alexa had left the door ajar, and as the doctor examined Luka he could hear her whispering something to herself as she paced anxiously around the room, but she was too quiet for him to make it out. Knowing Alexa as he did, however, he had an idea what it might be…

"Apám ki művészet ban mennyország , megszentelt lenni tiéd név…"

Erik stood in the shadows, watching the building with intent curiosity. He had lingered a few moments across from the building for curiosity's sake, and soon he saw a shadow stir behind the glass. The silhouette, whom he could only assume to be the doctor, began to pace, moving across the room with an agility that surprised Erik. He did not know the doctor, but he had seen him before and suspected him of being at least into his seventieth year. Back and forth, back and forth he paced, the outline's hands occasionally brushing across his forehead before falling together to clasp behind his back.

After several minutes of watching Myriel Erik saw a second form appear, much smaller in stature than the first. The two talked for only a few moments before the former of the two figures slowly sank down, and Erik guessed that they had taken a seat in a chair. A hand rose into the air beside the seated figure, and rested on the silhouette's shoulder. He wondered what the second person had said to affect the doctor so. Whatever it was, it was not good news. He leaned against the wall, wishing he could hear what they were saying.

The two continued to converse with each other, oblivious to the hidden form that was watching them from outside. Suddenly the sitting person stood up, and walked out of site. A creak echoed through the empty streets as the door was pushed open, and Erik withdrew into the shadows of the alley away from sight. He heard the door close and heavy footsteps on the pavement, and slowly turned to see who had called upon the doctor at such an early hour.

Alexa looked up as she heard the door push open and stopped her weary pacing to walk towards the doctor. She kept her face straight, but her eyes betrayed all the fears that she felt.

"He's asleep."

Alexa nodded her head, her shoulders sinking slightly as she sighed. Slowly she sat down in the chair beneath her and put her hand to her forehead, pushing on the wrinkles that her furrowed brows had created.

The doctor took note of the dark circles that rimmed her dazzling eyes, and put his hand on her shoulder. "Alexa, go home. You're tired. You need to rest."

"No, I'm fine, really." She smiled up at him. "I'm fine."

"No you're not." She looked at him with pleading eyes, but he ignored her silent request. "Go home, get some sleep. You're no good to him if you can't even keep your eyes open." But her eyes still held their hesitance, and he sighed at her determined spirit.

"Alexa, go home." She looked past him into the room from which he had just come, where beneath a faded quilt lay the little boy whose heart beat with her own. "He'll be fine Alexa, I promise. Go home." He placed his hand on her back and gently nudged her to the door. "Go and rest. Come back after you've slept for a few hours or so."

"Thank you, Jean." She said in weary appreciation.

"Just go."

She sighed and walked towards the door under his gently guidance. "When should I come back?"

Dr. Myriel shook his head, not surprised that she wouldn't let the matter of Luka go for her own well being. He could see her now, sitting at her table watching the clock to tell her the time that he had appropriated for her to return. "When you've had more than a few hours of sleep. You look terrible, Alexa." He saw the pallor of her skin, the red that tinted her eyes, and knew that, for whatever reasons, her life was not getting any easier.

"But Luka...? What about-"

"Alexa, he needs to rest. And when he wakes up he needs to see that you are strong…he needs to see in you that there is nothing to fear."

Her brow furrowed slightly at his last comment. "He doesn't have anything to fear, though. Right, Jean? I mean, he'll be all right…?"

"I don't know if I can answer that, Alexa. He has a severe case of pneumonia, and his body is very weak. But his spirit is strong, like yours. We'll just have to wait and see."

Alexa nodded. Feeling a familiar sting behind her eye, she looked up to the rafters, forcing the tears that threatened her composure back into the well that she had built up in her heart. She embraced the doctor, who was caught off guard by her actions. She held onto him for several moments.

"Thank you, Jean," she whispered in his ear. "I'll come back as soon as I can. If he wakes up tell him I'll be right back." She let go, dreading the thought of Luka waking up and her not being there, of what he would think if she wasn't there for him when he needed her. But Dr. Myriel would not allow her to stay, and so she quietly walked towards the door to appease the doctor. "Goodnight, doctor." She paused as she pushed the door open to look over her shoulder one last time into the room that lay behind the old man, and quietly closed the door behind her.

The cold air bit into her skin as Alexa stepped into the street. But it was not the chill that caused her body to shiver. The dead weight of fear and dread knotted itself into her stomach, and she stood breathless and frightened, staring blankly at the ground below. As she turned to face the long walk home she could no longer fight the tears that assaulted her countenance, once so stoic and brave. Her shoulders trembled as she tried to restrain the emotions that overwhelmed her. But pain won the battle against strength, and she fell against the wall, holding onto the brick as broken, empty sobs wracked her body.

She forced her palm to her face, trying to suppress the cries that broke the silence around her. But it was to no avail, and her desolate wails resounded through the night. She let herself fall to the pavement, her back grinding painfully into the serrated stone as her weeping pushed her against the jagged brick. But she did not feel the pain that stung her shoulders, so great was the ache in her heart.

She cried for the life that Luka would never know, for the inescapable fate which condemned him to a life of fear and solitude. She cried for herself: for all that was lost

because of her, and for all that was yet to be taken away.

She cried for her past, and wept for her future.

Alexa pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned her arms into her thighs, cradling her tear-stained cheeks in the palm of her hands as she continued to sob. She did not feel the weight of a gloved hand upon her back as she continued to cry, ignoring the strange sensation that was traveling up between her shoulder blades to finally rest upon her arm. A gentle shake brought her head out of the shelter of her crimson skirts, and she found herself staring up at a white mask that glittered in the moonlight that shone down upon them both.

A/N: Here are a few explanations from this chapter.

Dr. Myriel's name comes from Victor Hugo's Les Miserables:

The bishop of Digne, M. Myriel, is a much-admired clergyman whose great kindness and charity have made him popular throughout his parish. He passes on these same qualities to Jean Valjean and initiates the ex-convict's spiritual renewal by saving Valjean from arrest and making him promise to live as an honest man.

Hungarian Translation:

Apám ki művészet ban mennyország , megszentelt lenni tiéd név

Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name