"Lord, have mercy on Your servant. This day I surrender my future into Your hands and the hands of the man waiting for me down the aisle. Take my life as an offering and sustain me through the rest of my miserable life."

Cosette walked down the aisle towards Enjolras, head bowed, golden curls pinned atop her head, iridescent in her ivory, lace gown. As he watched her, he couldn't help remembering the scriptures his mother read to him as a child, something about God always requiring a perfectly unblemished sacrifice. And so she seemed, coming to him like a cow to the slaughter, hopelessness in her eyes. She had the kind of beauty one found in a wilted flower, in the decay of Autumn leaves perhaps. No one could deny she was something extraordinary before, but today was her funeral march.

How could he have for one second thought that he was doing something noble here? This agreement was supposed to be on Marius' behalf, for the sake of his dear, dead friend. "I'm sorry, Pontmercy. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to marry your girl." Enjolras thought to himself. "Why did you have to go die and take her spirit with you? Here she is before me like a walking corpse. I see you looking at me through her dead eyes. Is this also part of the agreement? Will I be haunted by your presence for the rest of my life? Will she continue carrying you around till her last breath?"

Enjolras and Cosette stood facing each other as the priest began to speak, all eyes turned on the beautiful couple. No one knew much about this mysterious, rich, young heiress, but all could agree that she was something spectacular to behold. Her quiet and graceful demeanor complimented the young politician's dangerous charm. What a pair they would make.


I'd sigh for you

I'd cry for you

I'd tear the stars down from the skies for you

If that isn't love it'll have to do

Until the real thing comes along

"You didn't come to dinner." Cosette said quietly from the door of Enjolras' study. It had been nearly three weeks since the day of their wedding and grief had decided to make it's permanent residence in their home. Enjolras' way of dealing with it was to immerse himself in work, which was what he was doing at that very moment. He'd been reading books, researching and writing papers, keeping his mind busy. Sometimes Cosette would find him asleep at his desk in the mornings. Living in his father's house brought back distant childhood memories, a mixture of good and bad past experiences, old tutors, nurses and nannies, kind servants... Though he barely saw or knew his father when he was growing up, he still loved the man. His death had left a gaping hole in Enjolras' heart and he had no idea what to do about it.

Cosette was somber, her footsteps soft, touch light, voice faint, everything about her fragile and shaky. Marius' death was devastating, but Valjean was her whole world and now he was gone and she no longer knew or recognized anything, not even herself. She was in an unfamiliar place, living with a complete stranger she now had to call her husband. They slept in separate chambers and Enjolras was often away, traveling for work. They rarely saw each other, Cosette left alone with grief threatening to turn her insane.

She needed something to occupy her attention and, since there really was no one else, she focused on Enjolras. But he wouldn't let her care for him, not understanding the importance of her need. And because he didn't understand, he unknowingly kept her in her depressed state.

She approached him from behind, eyeing the various Greek and Latin books strewn about his desk, papers spilling onto the floor. She studied the hard set lines on his face, those determined brows, steady, ink-stained fingers holding a quill.

"You need to eat." She tried again. He said nothing, scribbling away. She was getting slightly irritated with his disregard so she took the hand holding the quill and broke his concentration. Instantly waking from his daze, he looked up as if noticing she was in the room for the first time. "I don't like being ignored." She said sharply. Then, in a softer, weary voice- "Look, we don't have many duties towards each other. But I have a duty as your wife to make sure you don't starve yourself." She saw the redness in his eyes, the wrinkles under them. I see we both suffer... She placed a careful hand on his cheek. "To make sure you rest." He blinked at her, still trying to grasp the fact that she was in his private study, holding his hand and touching his cheek. "And it is your duty as my husband to join me for dinner."

It was only when she let go of him and moved away that he was able to think somewhat clearly.

"Forgive me." He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "That was inconsiderate of me. I shall try not to miss dinner again." She smiled then, a little light returning to her eyes. She felt refreshed as she stepped out, resolving to find ways to help him, however slight they may be. Enjolras retired to his chambers early that night and, as a result, woke fully rested, something he hadn't experienced in months.