A/N: In this chapter, I say fuck it, this is the breaking point for Genevieve. We all saw it coming. She ain't ever gonna be the same. And now I'm thinking of a bittersweet ending for our leading man and woman, but who knows?

Chapter 28: Reign of Terror

January 21, 1793

The King's head found a basket quickly and Genevieve was forced to look upon it where she stood besides Danton on the raised platform. Everything inside her was numb, and she did not look away.

She began to plan their demise instead.

July 10, 1793

The marquise de Lafayette invited a woman over to her manor in the most inconspicuous way possible. Just a simple letter, addressed plainly and to the point.

They had dinner in a quiet house that used to be full of life over meals that had long since lost their taste. Charlotte Corday was a pretty lady with a long face and faded auburn hair. Her grey eyes were sharp, quick, and when Genevieve asked a simple question, the answer was yes.

"And you know you may not make it out alive?" She asked and the other woman nodded. "It's not often I speak with a Girondist sympathizer on such friendly terms."

"It's not often I speak with one of the leaders of the revolution on such friendly terms so don't think yourself so lonely." Genevieve raised a cup of tea to her lips, smiling though not with her eyes. She would not smile with joy until her husband was safe and her children were in her arms.

"I will make sure every request you have will be fulfilled. Just ask it of me." Corday said she will. "Thank you, mademoiselle. You will have done me a great favour."

"Let me ask you this one thing, then." The grey-eyed woman leaned forward on her elbows, her meal ignored. Genevieve set down her cup and saucer, watching her stoically. "Why? What's in it for you, to betray everything you've ever worked for?" At that, an ironic smile carved its way into Genevieve's cheeks.

"Things are not all as they seem, Corday. I love my husband more than I fear Robespierre or any of his dogs."

"That's it? Hard to believe with the show you've put on for years. But, let us say I humour you. All this, for your husband? How shallow," a dry smile, "and here I thought there was someone left in Paris who still cared for their home. I should've expected nothing less from a foreigner." Genevieve stood, though not imposingly and Gerard entered the room, coming to collect the plates and leaving just as quickly as Corday matched her stance.

"I'd do anything for a safe France. But it is my husband and my children who grant me strength - the thought that I may one day see them again, that I may hold them in my arms." Her fingers extend to Gerard as he returned without breaking eye contact from the woman in front of her. A cold handle pressed into her palm and she took the dagger, twirling it smoothly between her digits so the grip was offered to the Girondist. "I'm sure we are more alike than you think, mademoiselle."

With a tremulous hand, Charlotte Corday took the unsigned weapon. Smooth silver, light, good grip. Genevieve herself had determined is a fine weapon for a one-time use. It was cheap, for its quality. A smile that did not match the time appeared on Charlotte's face. A huge, giant grin which held the sun and all its light. The grey-eyed lady chuckled and sighed almost dreamily. It was the look of a dead man, a man who had signed his own death warrant and was at peace at last. A man who had found their mission in life, their reason.

"Goodnight, madame la marquise, and goodbye. Dinner was lovely."

"Adieu. My prayers are with you, always." And the dead man walked out her dining hall, never to step foot in her manor again.

.

A week later, Charlotte Corday was executed for the murder of Jean-Paul Marat. Genevieve made sure every last request the dead woman walking had was fulfilled, including a professional portrait, already paid out of the marquise's own pocket.

She always paid her dues.

April 2, 1794

No one should doubt how powerful words can be. Danton knew how true this was. As Genevieve cradled Georges Danton's face days before his execution, he saw the truth in her eyes - the vixen that betrayed them all.

"This is for my husband." She whispered flatly, softly. It was a tone she used once to calm him in a meeting against Robespierre and he was sure it was the tone she used to speak in his ear. Like some cheap whore, trying to seduce Robespierre with her pretty lies. It wouldn't work.

But it worked on him, didn't it?

"Va te faire enculer."* Georges spat in her face and she slapped him hard across the cheek. Straightening up, she walked away from his cell.

"Citoyenne…" Georges Danton opened his door to the face of Genevieve Alcott. She entered with the grace even the Queen did not possess as his son ran into the hall. Crouching down, she embraced his child. His wife carried his youngest, entering after Antoine.

"Madame Genevieve! You're here!"** Picking Antoine up, Genevieve tickled the child's cheek.

"It's nice to see you again, madame." Turning, the visitor smiled at Louise*** who held François. "What brings you here?" They made their way to the parlor and Danton crossed his arms, the corner of his lip twitching into a smile.

"I need only speak to your husband." Genevieve set Antoine back down. "I know my visit is unannounced, I hope I'm not interrupting." The woman was wearing a flattering dress that showed off her figure, the fabric the shade of her eyes.

"Of course not. Come on, Antoine. Let's go take a bath." The children left along with Louise and Danton sat down, offering a chair silently to the woman.

"Is there a particular reason to this visit?"

"Yes." Her tone was quiet with sympathy as she sat. "I know what you did. How you got the money. Subtlety and modesty were never your strong suits. What were you thinking, you idiot?"

"I-"

"D'Églantine is arrested for being implicated in this scandal and you still defend him? People are right to be wary of you right now, Danton. They could have you arrested!" Her concern lowered her voice to a hiss, "And what will your family do then? Your children, Louise?" Danton looked away guiltily. He wasn't thinking - the money was just there. Her face softened and her voice was calmer, "Don't worry, mon chéri. Just tell me everything and perhaps I can speak to Robespierre; perhaps the punishment won't be as severe."

Danton stood, running beefy hands through his thinning hair. "It wasn't me alone."

"Of course not," she murmured as she stood. A hand on his arm, she gave him a reassuring smile. Leading him back to the divan, she sat beside him, perched like a pretty bird on a twig. "But I know for a fact that the Committee of Public Safety will not be pleased upon hearing the appropriation of the Company."****

"There's no proof-"

"Now, now, Danton. How do you think I've come about this slice of information?" She cut him off coldly, hands retreating to fold neatly in her lap, crossing a leg over the other under her skirts. "I can tell you that Robespierre does not appreciate being pulled from his slumber for matters that could have been avoided."

"You - Robespierre?" No... no way a man like Robespierre-

"Don't be stupid, Danton. Infidelity does not suit people like us." She stood, heading towards the open kitchen. Danton sat frozen, watching her pour herself a cup of tea Louise made. She always did that before taking the children up for a bath. "We discuss treachery over our afternoon tea, and when François Chabot burst into his bedchambers, speaking of blackmail and venality in members of the Convention, it makes for interesting coversation. And how strange, that among that blabber, your name came among it along with others, who coincidentally, appear to be Dantonists."

"Madame-"

"He's probably going to be sent to the guillotine. You wouldn't want the same fate to befall on you. Your poor children, sweet little Antoine and darling François, he's only one, and so very precious. You do not want them to grow up without a father, do you?"

"Of course not, madame."

"All you need to do," she turned back towards him, cup and saucer in hand, "is write down every name you know that could've been part of this scheme. And perhaps, Robespierre will be persuaded to spare you. After all, you've done so much for our revolution." Danton headed for his study, preparing his quill and paper. "I expect the list by sunrise." She left half-empty teacup on the glass table, brushing a hand along the surface. "Can I expect this of you?"

So overwhelmed was he by her barrage, of the guilt of what he had done to his sons, he did not realize that he would incriminate himself in the end. "Y-yes, madame."

.

He knocked on her door the following morning, the paper in his hands. Her butler opened the door and took the sheet before retreating, though the door did not close. Instead, she appeared in the frame and smiled.

"Thank you for your service, Danton. I'll make sure your children are safe." And with that, the door closed in his face.

April 5, 1794

Georges Danton and Camille Desmoulins and all their friends were accused for a list of crimes that could've touched her toes had it all been on paper. It was quick, proper, and Genevieve felt Robespierre's eyes on her when they escorted Camille's lifeless body off the stage.

"Are you alright?" He asked and she frowned.

"Are you? He was your childhood friend, was he not?"

"There is no loss in traitors. I asked about you." Genevieve only regarded this man who would soon die beside her and shook her head before returning her sights to the guillotine. Camille Desmoulins died third; she wondered when Georges Danton would die.

"I'm just fine." His hand landed on her shoulder and she could hear his slight smile in his words.

"Good. It's just the two of us now, Genevieve, and I think it best we share the same mindset." His words followed after her as he turned and walked away. They were bringing up the next man to be killed and Genevieve only felt a sick turn of her stomach. She had made two boys fatherless, a sixteen year-old girl a widow with no assets. It was in the name of justice, was it not?

She had found Louise at her condemned husband's house, cradling his children who would not remember who their father truly was.

"I'm sorry, I did all I could." She had said, lying through her teeth. Yet she had still extended a hand, "Come. Do you have any family you can stay with?"

"My father." She took the older woman's hand, trying to hide tears.

"Good. You are not staying in this house."

Genevieve did not focus on the executions until she saw a face she knew well. The face of a snarling bulldog, but his face was fresh with sweat and his expression was one of terror. Robespierre did not say anything but she knew he silently thanked her for the list. The list of his enemies she had spoon fed him. She will by his side but not for long.

There was a huge mob, screaming profanities and wishing death upon him as if Danton would not look the Grim Reaper in the eye soon enough. It lasted a long time and Genevieve half-wondered why and then decided she didn't care. The humiliation the man faced was longer than any of the others before the metal rang in her ears when the blade was released. There was a sick crunch, then a morbid silence.

When not another body was brought up, she realized Robespierre's message behind it.

Georges Danton was executed last. He was to be made a show out of by his own ally.

There is only humiliation in treachery.

July 20, 1794

"Is it reasonable?" Robespierre turned to her, worn lines in his face and a crease in his brow. She was his only companion as of late but he was not hers. She offered him a cup of tea. He took it and sipped without a moment's thought.*****

"You think spreading word about a counter-revolutionary conspiracy in the Convention will be enough to save you? Words can only do so much to protect a man accused of your crimes." She settled a hand on his shoulder, dark eyes reaching his.

"Is the speech not ready?" He asked and she looked to the study where his papers were scattered all over. She had read every single word.

"It's fine." She turned away, heading for said room. "Granted, it's not your best work." Gathering up the essay, her hand brushed over the letter that she had drafted earlier today. It was addressed to her children and her sisters. If only she had the time and energy to complete it these days. "You can leave, Robespierre. I wish to retire early."

"Of course." He took his sheets back from her with a weary grimace. Under her scrutiny, she could see how desperate he was. Loss of public favour was something she knew eerily well.

"You are aware that this will not quell the rumours or attacks."

"It is better to try than to lie down and die." A pause, "I'll escort myself out, Genevieve."

"Goodnight, Maximillien." She heard herself say though she did not turn to watch him leave. Instead, she waited for Gerard to come and confirm his exit.

The butler pulled her into a hug wordlessly and she clutched onto him with all the strength she had left, "Write to your family. To the women you call your sisters. Take comfort in the fact that you are not alone. Please. You are not yourself."

"And how can I do that, Gerard, when the fall of Robespierre is just beyond my reach? I cannot stop working - I will not let another purge of men and women go by. Do you know what they will call this era? The Reign of Terror, where the guillotine rusts from blood." She pulled away and turned back to her desk where her husband had sat many days at a time, barely seeing the light of day. How much she ached for him to be here - never seeing him, yes, but at least she knew he was safe. Justice and revenge; the lines were getting blurry. Still, she was so close.

Brushing past her nonsense draft letters, she opened the drawer to the right.

G.L. She ran gentle fingers over the sheathed blade before closing it shut again. Leaning against the desk, she heaved a sigh.

"Madame, if not, then perhaps a letter."

"Leave me, Gerard. I did not lie to him when I said I want to sleep."

"This letter is important." The sense of urgency in his tone made her stand straight and turn to him.

"From who?"

"The American Secretary of State."

.

Lafayette raised an eyebrow wryly at the second serving of his meal as well as a new set of clothes.

"What is this?" He asked quietly, not reaching for it yet - this could be some sick joke. He wasn't fed more than twice a day - a third meal? "Is this poisoned?" He was given no answer and just took his chance, reaching for the tray. The clothes were large and he first changed into the pants. They were soft, though plain, and smelled fresh, like wind, like Genevieve. Oh, how he missed his wife. He retreated to the corner of his cell where his bed was and began to unfold the shirt when something hard dropped out. Frowning, he picked up an envelope where it nearly landed on his bread and butter.

"Quoi?" The paper was thick and crisp and when he read it, it was in a slanted font he hadn't seen in what felt like years.

To my dearest friend,

It is my brilliant mind that has found a loophole. What is this loophole you ask? Well, how do you feel about being paid for your services as a major general for the 6 years you served, with interest?

Lafayette's eyebrows rose and a disbelieving smile crossed his lips.

I had assumed your answer was yes so the answer was rushed to Congress, to Washington's desk.

I hope the money grants you a more lavish lifestyle while you are incarcerated.

Yours,

Thomas Jefferson

A/N: Ending the second chapter with another letter in regards to Thomas Jefferson. I hope you guys liked it, I know I did, and if you say Genevieve is out of character and out for blood, consider what she's gone through the past few chapters.

I'll answer reviews next chapter.

* "Va te faire enculer." Go fuck yourself in French.

** "Madame Genevieve! You're here!" This suggests that Genevieve is a regular visitor.

*** Turning, the visitor smiled at Louise… Louise was Danton's sixteen-year old wife whom he married after his first wife died. She took care of his two sons, Antoine and François.

**** "… upon hearing the appropriation of the Company." Danton and co. tried to appropriate the wealth of the French East India Company which was the most serious accusation in his trial. François Chabot denounced Danton and he was also implicated by another, Fabre d'Églantine', who was connected to the scandal as well. Everyone was accusing everyone else - it was kind of crazy.

***** He took it and sipped without a moment's thought. That's an awful lot of trust you're putting in Genevieve, Robespierre.