A/N: Vote on my poll on my profile, yo. Also, don't be fooled by the chapter count. There's another long review reply. Sorry!

Chapter 23: Robbed

September 20, 1786

"See, there are things that make me just want to rip my hair out. This is one of them." She growled, feeling pins stab into her skull. Her hair was done up elegantly, courtesy of Gerard's connections and she wore a tight corset underneath an elegant and intricate dress that really made her unable to breath. John Adams laughed shortly under his breath, giving his taller companion a wink.

"Oh, hush. It's just a little party."

"Little is an understatement. We're in a ballroom, Mr. Adams." She shot back, smiling at passersby before sipping on the red wine. "Parties in offices, I can manage. Mansion parties, I love. But a ballroom seems," she searched for a right word before deciding there was none, "too big."

"Once you get used to it, the crowds are more suffocating than you think." Mr. Adams remarked as Genevieve watched Lafayette talk to some nameless British politician. The aura was frosty and she excused herself to save him. "Saving the day, once again," his teasing comment followed her and she rolled her eyes before making her way towards her husband.

"And how are you enjoying London?" The man asked as Genevieve approached. She pulled her decorative shawl tighter around her arms and stood by her husband's side. "Madame,"

"Mr. Abrams." She nodded to him as he bowed, taking her hand. She curtseyed, "We're liking London just fine for a family that just came from America." Her tone was coldly polite. He let go of her hand and she glanced at Lafayette, "Unfortunately, we've encountered a pothole or two."

"I hope you came out of it unharmed." He had the same frozen smile on his face as she cocked her head.

"We did, thank you. How's the wife?" Mr. Abrams' face twitched as Genevieve smiled more genuinely. "I saw her just yesterday - Mrs. Adams had introduced us." A hooked smirk, "Is she not well?"

"Mrs. Abrams is at home with the children. Our little son caught the flu and seemed to have spread it to her as well." Lafayette made a noise of sympathy and when Mr. Abrams met his gaze, he kept it level. Genevieve didn't make the slightest inclination that she heard.

"Send them our sympathies."

"I will."

"Is there anything else you wished to discuss?" He questioned after and Mr. Abrams shook his head, looking thoroughly surly. "Then, if you'll excuse us."

"Of course. It was nice talking to your, monsieur Lafayette. And madame," he bowed once again and they departed. Lafayette leaned close so his mouth was near her ear. She turned her head toward him slightly.

"Is it bad that I feel no sympathy to the man?"

"No, because I do not. He wants to leave his wife." She said and Lafayette snorted in surprise. "His ring's gone and Mrs. Abrams looked absolutely terrible yesterday."

"Any reason why?"

"His mistress," she answered simply with an unladylike shrug and he choked back a laugh as they walked through the crowd. Many couples were dancing but one woman caught Genevieve's eye. Trying to stuff her excitement down, she dragged Lafayette around the floor and sidled up to her.

"Mrs. Church," she greeted and Angelica turned with a surprised expression etched onto her face. "How is this fine evening treating you?"

"Genevieve! It's so good to see you. And when one comes, the other is soon to follow," the woman added upon seeing Lafayette appear over Genevieve's shoulder.

"Are formalities still something between us?" Genevieve asked, curtseying as Angelica did the same.

"In this kind of environment, yes," she replied. "How're the children?"

"Asleep by now, hopefully. Either that or Gerard is not doing his job. Gerard is our butler though he's more a friend," Genevieve explained and Angelica hummed. "And you? The husband and children are fine, I presume. You mentioned nothing in your last letter."

"The usual," Angelica responded quite indifferently. "John is somewhere in here, chatting the ears off of some politician and he's left me in the hands of available and handsome young men. Who is to blame if one of them gets too close?" She added mischievously.

"Please do not bring my wife into your scandalous exploits." Lafayette said, grinning at the Schuyler who shook her head.

"Ah, Lafayette. Do you not know me at all?" She asked and grabbed Genevieve's wrist, tugging her into the depths of the ballroom crowd. The marquis' eyes widened, watching the brunette wave before he couldn't even see her anymore.

"Merde." He cursed, turning to find a waiter extending a platter of wine glasses. Taking one, he chugged it like water before taking another.

February 22, 1787

Tapping her foot impatiently, she paced back and forth in the drawing room. Glancing at the clock again, she sent a tight smile to Gerard who was in a similar state of worry. "Do you think denouncing them is wrong?"

"If honesty is wrong, then yes." Gerard replied and she shook her head.

"I didn't mean ever. I meant now, when France is slowly gaining the courage to riot. Lafayette speaks with passion - he will derail from his speech." She implored, sitting down and resting her chin in her hands. "I read it," closing her eyes, she imagined the slanted black letters, "it was good. There were valid points - he advocated for reform and for a national assembly that was true to France. It was, right? It made sense and it wasn't just an endless amount of rambling from too many sleepless nights?"

"It was, madame. Please, rest." Gerard murmured, "The children miss their parents." Relenting, Genevieve shot Gerard a dark look.

"If he comes back, tell me immediately. I'll be upstairs with them."

"Of course, madame la marquise."

"It's Genevieve."

"Of course, madame."

.

When Lafayette finally crawled into bed, Genevieve was still wide awake and she turned, hugging her husband close. "You took your time," she muttered as he groaned, burying his face in her hair. His cold body warmed under her touch as he stroked her side.

"The King disregarded everything I said." He mumbled, pulling her closer. She burrowed her face into his chest, "And I have made myself hated even more by the nobility."

"Great," she sighed and he shifted under the blankets so he pinned her to the bed. "Lafayette, what are you doing?" Her eyes met his and he kissed her deeply. Even though their lack of intimate time since their children had Genevieve welcoming to his sudden affection, she was extremely confused. "Hey," her hand cupped his jaw and pulled him back. Smiling, she just stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

"You've given me everything I never knew I wanted." He said quietly. "I want you… I want you so badly."

"Is that the stress speaking or my husband speaking?" She challenged. When he failed to answer, she kissed him reassuringly on the lips before resting against the pillow. "I want you. I'll always want you and love you, but this isn't us. It has never been." He pressed against her, but not sensually, just as a comforting presence atop of her as he rested his head on her sternum.

"Je suis désolé. After everything… I thought something familiar could ground me. I thought… feeling something that reminds me of better time would just take the edge off this world we live in." He tried to smile but it didn't come out right. "It has always been you, Gen. Mon amour."

"And you have always been my anchor." Her fingers ran through his hair, scraping pleasantly against his scalp. "I love you, Lafayette, but I'm not becoming something I joined the war to avoid." A trophy wife who let their husband have whatever way with them.

"I know," he shimmied up to kiss her before pecking her forehead and cheek.

"Guess it's true that when it comes to romance, the French do not think things through," she whispered and he chuckled, albeit forced. "Passion is one of your greatest assets. Sometimes, it just goes to your head." The brunette teased and he sighed, pressing their foreheads together.

"I love you,"

"And I you. Now, sleep. Let yourself rest and perhaps then that edge will disappear for just a few short hours."

"That sounds nice." Kissing him, she tucked into his chest once more and soon, sleep crept into their company.

July 7, 1789

Genevieve appeared in the parlor, watching her husband and Thomas Jefferson add the finishing touches to their declaration. Approaching them, she pushed Jefferson's legs off the chair he was lounging them on and sat down. Ignoring his shocked glare, she read the draft Lafayette readily handed to her.

They awaited in a silence as she flipped a page, eyebrows knitted together until finally, she reached the end with a sigh and set it back down. "Where are the women's rights?" She asked, infuriated. "Where are the rights that your daughter will have?" She pinned the both of them with a glare. "' No man can be accused, arrested nor detained but in the cases determined by the law, and according to the forms which it has prescribed. Those who solicit, dispatch, carry out or cause to be carried out arbitrary orders, must be punished; but any citizen called or seized under the terms of the law must obey at once; he renders himself culpable by resistance.' These articles do not represent a mere man's ideals for equality. They should represent everyone, regardless of sex and race."

"Told you - a spirited one." Jefferson stretched languidly.

"Should you encounter Angelica Schuyler, she will not take kindly to your tact." She said laconically with a sigh. "And with such high hopes for the sequel as well." Lafayette snorted from where he was drinking from his glass of water. "But in all that is earnest, will this still be in place should our daughter grow up in France?" She asked and Lafayette looked away.

"The people need change. This is just the first step, ma chérie. I assure you." He consoled and she glanced at the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen again.

"Should he propose that women have equal rights, Danton may in fact make due on his promise to wring your husband's neck so tightly that, and I quote, 'His head pops off his shoulders.'" Jefferson stretched his arms above his head before bending them and lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Sounds like a pleasant man." Genevieve muttered and Lafayette shook his head, face stony at the mention of the man.

"And I thought he called me a 'traitorous whoreson with a wench of a wife that he'd love to meet some time' affably."

"It's a good thing that when he tries to lift my skirt, all he'll see is a knife before his life ends." Genevieve commented loosely and Jefferson stared at Lafayette with raised eyebrows that said: Is your wife crazy?

Lafayette nodded, shrugged, sending mix messages because at this point, he knew Genevieve did not like Georges Danton one bit without ever having the displeasure of meeting the man face to face. "Unfortunately, monsieur Danton is much more dangerous than he appears. And his appearance is something to fear."

Genevieve hummed thoughtfully. "And do you know who I met when I was out?" She asked and her own voice held something dark and dreaded. Please, not Danton, not Desmoulins, not Marat…

"Who?"

"Robespierre."

There was a silence where not even a single one of them dared even breath. Robespierre, the near-epitome of a child genius and a phenomenal lawyer who could match Alexander in wit and in words, was a dangerous man to bump into.

"And what happened?"

"Merely introductions. I played my part," she met Lafayette's eyes briefly, "and he seems… indifferent - aloof. It's off-putting. That man…" she shivered, unable to stop himself.

"He did not hurt you."

"He cannot." She said quickly. "These years have paid off - he wished to see me again and offered an alliance should I ever need one." He noted her words. Only her, he reminded in his head, because out there, she is not my wife.

"Gen-"

"He mentioned the children." She interrupted, "So I said nothing. I allowed him to leave - Lafayette, when you present this declaration to the National Assembly, be careful."

"He knows, madame la marquise." Jefferson said in an uncharacteristic note of concern. "We will be there at his side though, no?" Despite his words, Genevieve seemed thoroughly shaken up and stood. At that moment did their son run into the parlor, barreling into his mother's legs.

"Mama, Emmeline is teasing me." Giving her husband and the ambassador a glance, she escorted her son out of the parlor. Lafayette could still hear them as they went towards studies where the children were with their tutors.

"Why, Georges?" Genevieve asked, holding onto her son's hand.

"She keeps saying that I'm so slow at learning and that I'll never be smart enough. But I am! It's just… difficult. There's something wrong outside, Mama. It makes it hard to focus."

"Outside? It's sunny and clear." She said, voice obviously fake. Lafayette winced and Jefferson patted his back. Standing, he excused himself and followed his wife carefully.

"It feels so… angry. I'm scared." My little son… He felt his insides ache. If his seven-year old son could sense the unrest in the streets, then he wondered how intuitive little Emmeline was taking it. Scooping up his son, he settled him on his shoulders, attempting to make him laugh.

"Papa, put me down!" He yelped and Genevieve's quiet chuckle rang in his ears.

"When's the last time we played, Georges?" He asked as they walked down the hall and into the study where Emmeline was working on her maths.

"I have to study, Papa." Georges protested but when Emmeline heard her brother again, there was an apology etched all across her face. "And I don't want to see her."

"Georges-" Emmeline tried but Genevieve stepped in before her daughter began to cry and her son completely lost it on his sister.

"Emmeline, come here."

"Everyone is so angry, Mama. It's scary," her green eyes were wide with fright as she asked to be picked up silently. Genevieve sighed, picking her up and making a mental note that her daughter was growing up too fast. "I didn't mean what I said to Georges," she looked at her brother who was near the bookshelves, still on his father's shoulders. The boy was pointedly ignoring his sister as Jefferson stepped into the room.

"Mr. Jefferson," Georges called and the ambassador made his way towards the marquis and his son. Taking the little Lafayette off his father's shoulders, Thomas Jefferson held the boy naturally in his arms before scanning the shelves and picking a book full of poetry for him to read.

"Emmeline, I need you to be brave." Genevieve murmured, still watching the trio of boys interact. "For yourself and for your brother. I know you didn't mean what you said but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

"I know,"

"Are you going to apologize?"

"Oui. Je vais maintenant." Nodding, she put down her daughter and watched as Emmeline tugged on Thomas' magenta cloak and asked to talk to her brother. Giving the child a tender smile she had never seen directed at an adult, the minister settled the brunet child back down.

Genevieve never thought about it but now did she realize that her son was starting to look extremely alike to his father. With the same curly hair tied up in a practical ponytail and angular features that were beginning to appear, she thought he'd grow up to be quite a handsome man. In her daughter she could see her husband's mannerisms, from the hand gestures to the expressive facial expressions she made.

Lafayette watched his two children interact, seeing every bit of his wife in them. Standing next to Jefferson, he watched as Emmeline bit her lip as her mother did, golden-brown hair like her uncle's tied back into a braid. And how Georges stared at his sister was the same way Genevieve pinned men and women full of nonsense.

Both could only think of the innocence about to be robbed from them in the following years.

"I'm sorry, Georges. I didn't mean it. Can we be friends again?" Georges looked unsure at his sister before nodding hesitantly. "The world is scary - I think it'd be nice to have your sister as your friend." There she went, stating things like facts like her mother. His son nodded, hugging his sister tightly.

"I know. Maybe we should get smarter so we can be like Mama and Papa. We can be heroes too!"

"Yeah!" Together, they ran back to the table and opened up their books as Genevieve approached the two men.

"If they can feel it," her voice was hoarse and quiet, "how are we going to hide the war that's going to be right outside our door soon? The blood that will spill…"

"We won't be able to, Ms. Alcott." Mr. Jefferson said and they all shared look before sparing a glance at the innocent children. "Whatever happens, there will be nowhere to hide."

A/N: Yes, action. We are finally getting somewhere! On a more important note, I may not update next week. I know school is out and stuff but my mental state hasn't been too great lately. It's nothing to worry about, I just want to take a break. Depending on how I feel, I will/will not update for my sake. Sorry guys!

REVIEWS:

stranger ways: OKAY, KIDDO, THOSE REVIEWS BUT I MEAN. It's fine. Your comment wasn't directly hateful although I'd have liked it more if you didn't add it - just my way of maintaining the peace!

Hamil-Guest: Ayy! Thanks for sticking along for the ride, my dude! Keep rockin' on and enjoy the show!

Trust Me: I'm glad that you asked for forgiveness. It's not something many do so I appreciate that. I believe that kindness is something born in all humans. You don't have to be taught how to be kind - it comes naturally. I can't understand how you were raised with strict, disciplined teachers because that wasn't how I was raised, so I don't understand how they treated you, how they taught you, etc. What I can understand, however, is that the way you were raised gave no room to think of other's emotions and that when you posted your first review, you did not think it through. You weren't being unkind, you were just being slightly impulsive in your frustration and lack of time. Otherwise, why else would you apologize? If you had just paused, re-read what you were about to say to another human being with emotions, then I'm sure you would've rewritten it. So I accept your apology albeit with difficulty.

You don't need to know how old I am, how many years of practice - this is the internet, it's an unsafe place. Unless I trust you explicitly, I'm not about to throw my age around. Sorry about that. Where I live, teachers do not drill grammar into your mind. In fact, one of my possible English teachers next year has informed me that he doesn't even teach grammar because he believes it's useless when everyone knows the basics of it already (When to use commas, quotations, etc.) My English teacher this year didn't even give us any punishment for using the wrong grammar. Only pointed it out and told us to do better next time. In a world where there's tumblr, the internet, memes, and such, language has really gone lax so I've grown up in a world where grammar isn't the most forefront of our education.

I write as a past time. I have no idea if I want to do this as an occupation when I grow up. I ask myself questions daily, which is why I research all the events and make everything as accurate as possible. Your review(s) did bring me down, I'll admit that. It hurt when someone has so harshly said things you already knew and stated things you had known long before you even started this story. I obviously want to improve, but that isn't my main goal here. My main goal is to provide reading entertainment to the masses and have some fun playing with characters I love. Improvement is just a little thing on the side that secretly gives me joy. Comparing what I'm writing now to what I wrote nearly 4 years ago... it's nothing short of a miracle that those little stories even got reviews! Just... trust me when I say that grammar is great when you take it seriously, but when you see the reviews that you're giving people entertainment and that they love the character you created, it's amazing because you feel this sense of accomplishment. Your story is sound, your character is likable and loved with who they're paired up with. You've done it.

My own reply is getting too long now so I'll just leave it to a few points. I'll keep writing, and if I pick up a few lessons along the way, yay me. But right now, I like where I am. I like that my sentences are easy to read (most of the time, when I'm not insanely tired) and that I can write an actual plotline that makes sense and that I have created a character that is someone the readers like. If I plan on pursuing this on a more professional level, I will definitely strive to improve, but right now, writing is just something I do on the side.

If you wish to talk any further, please create an account and PM me. Thank you.