okay this is the conclusion to my story...i hope you all like it...i liked writing it...always feels good to make happy endings (yes this is a happy ending)...anyway as youll notice i kind of cut out the seamstress, not that i dont love her i do i cried when she died...but it makes sense not to include her...youll see also...please be kind to my interpretation of defarge...dont ask me why but there was something in the book that i saw in him...the good side if you will anyway please reand review and enjoy just a note special thanks to my reviews GoldenAshes, Queen of the Unknown, and Ctolol21---if you three are reading this you should know how i smiled reading your reviews...and anthother thanks to PhantomErikPhan who although did not reivew this story reivewed my poem about Sydney Carton---just want you to know PhantomErikPhan i wish i could write poetry as beautifully as you do....anyway please read review and enjoy...

I See Myself In Your Smile (Part 2)

Lucie ran swiftly towards the very streets of Paris that she never wanted to see again. But as she neared the market square she stopped short. Lucie, with her pretty face, beautiful blond hair and dazzling blue eyes, would be the most recognized suspected criminal in Paris! Thinking quickly the seconds slipped onward she bent down on the ground gathering up as much dust and soot as she could. Then she passionately covered her face with the black ashes. She covered her clothes in the remainder of the soot, and she wrinkled and creased her once beautiful dress.

Then once she was satisfied she took off in a run again. Not one person stopped her remarking that she looked very similar to a one Mrs. Darnay, to one Mrs. Evermonde. Not one person begged her pardon to remark how very much she looked like the daughter of an old country doctor. She reached La Force prison in time to see a cart full of prisoners coming out into the light of day to die upon Madame guillotine. Lucie was surrounded by thousands of onlookers who jeered and laughed at the misfortunate devils being carried to their deaths. It was then when Lucie saw him.

Sydney Carton was leaning against the side of the cart looking down at his feet. Lucie flushed with happiness that she had not been too late. He was still alive! He was still breathing! If only he could see her through this dense throng of people!

Suddenly, in a lose of character, she found herself screaming at the very top of her lungs, "Sydney!"

She saw him look up with surprise at hearing his true name called. He had not expected that to happen. Sydney Carton briefly swept his eyes around the crowds of the mob cheering for his death. There must have been thousands of Sydneys in Paris, he concluded bitterly. Yet that voice…that voice had sounded so pleading so much like her voice. It had that same beautiful trill which echoed through his ears like bells. It sent the same thrill through his body as it had done many times before. But Sydney turned his head from the clamoring people. It was not possible. He knew this was certain. It was not possible that she could have been here. That she could see him now and call to him.

However he noticed that embedded in the thousands and thousands of poor was a pair of bright blue eyes, which stared beseechingly up at his own brown eyes. The brown eyes and blue held each other for but a moment. It would have lasted longer if Sydney had control. It would have lasted the rest of his life and hers staring into her eyes. But suddenly the blue eyes closed and the body attached to the blue eyes was shoved downward. Sydney, now believing that such impossibilities could indeed be possible, tried to relocate Lucie.

What had happened to Lucie? She had been thrown backward and onto the earth by Ernest Defarge. He had been among the group of people who watched happily the prisoners on the cart. But he had noticed the familiar curls and blue eyes of his old master's daughter. So now as Lucie slowly recovered from being face to face with the streets of Paris she found Defarge looking at her.

While unconscious he had carried her away from the fervent cries of the mob into his old wine shop. There was not a soul about except for Defarge as she came to and looked about her. Lucie stopped short of screaming when she was confronted with Defarge's piercing black eyes.

"What are you doing here Miss Manette or should I saw Mrs. Darnay?"

Lucie bit her lip. "What is my husband's number?"

Defarge looked out his windows and then back into Lucie's eyes. "Twenty-three. They are now on eighteen. Soon you will have the pleasure of knowing there is one less Evremonde in the world."

Lucie crossed her arms. "What would you think, Mr. Defarge, if I told you that number twenty-three is not Evremonde?"

Mr. Defarge, though called Jacques by those who fought for justice, stared blankly at her. He gave a chuckle to show her that he did not believe. "You may try, traitor to save him but it will not work. He is condemned and all that you may do now is to flee for your life. Forget Paris and go to England Mademoiselle." There were flecks of genuine kindness in his unforgiving words.

"The man you intended to murder today is alive Mr. Defarge. The man who shall be murdered today is not my husband. He is an average Englishman who never lived in France. He does not have a French accent, nor did he ever associate himself with those who abused peasants. The man who shall die today is a good man who only wants to bring good into the lives of those he loves." Lucie began to cry again and Mr. Defarge slowly began to believe the truth she spoke.

"But why does he not tell us so?" asked Defarge leaning his arm against a table.

"He plans on dying in the place of my husband. He plans on dying for my happiness."

Mr. Defarge, an observant man, shook his head. "Forgive me but it does not seem that his sacrifice will bring any kind of happiness to you."

"I…I love him." Lucie stood up and turned towards the guillotine looming in the distance. "When I found out what he planned to do, I left my husband, child, and dear friend in a rash attempt to save him." Her situation even sounded silly in her head.

Mr. Defarge spent his adult life pursing justice and destroying tyranny. If Madame Defarge was by his side at this moment he knew what she would say. She would shoot the girl for causing an uproar and a nuisance. She would see that this man who was not Mr. Darnay would die on the guillotine for associating with Mr. Darnay. And then she would track down Darnay and kill him too. Death was something that Mr. Defarge did not shy away from. Neither did he disagree with killing those who deserved to die. But Lucie's story touched Mr. Defarge and his heart broke for the girl who love only sought for a second chance.

Without a word he ran out of the wine shop in an attempt to do something to stop this event from occurring. But Lucie had no idea of Mr. Defarge's intent. She believed that Mr. Defarge would kill Sydney and then go after Charles and probably little Lucie too. And all these deaths would occur because of her words. Now she sat in a wine shop where her father had been cared for, where she had found hope, and now at last suffered a pain greater than any dagger.

She waited for the footsteps that she knew would come. She knew that any minute Defarge and the rest of the Jaqucerie would come into the shop and probably kill her. But she willingly welcomed them. If Sydney was dead there was no point in living out the rest of her young life. Better to end it now and join Sydney in Heaven than suffer year after year.

The hours flew by and the sun had begun his sorry setting bringing no hope for Lucie as she at last decided to leave the wine shop. She walked like one of the dead back to the main square where Madame guillotine dwelled. The guillotine was drenched in blood from a hard days work and the crowds had begun to disperse. Lucie needed to know for certain what had happened to Sydney and it seemed that all those who witnessed his execution were leaving. But as she peered into the street she caught sight of a woman who took no notice of her fellow citizens' departure. Lucie took a deep breath and walked slowly up to the women who remained seated on a large stone knitting away. The woman's eyes were bent low fixed solely on her stitches.

"How many did the guillotine kill today?" she asked bravely.

"Fifty one," replied the woman who continued knitting without even missing a stitch. "Were you not present?"

Lucie shook her head trying to sound lighthearted. "No I left abruptly after nineteen."

The woman's brow knotted much like her knitting though she did not look up at Lucie. "Then you did not witness what happened to twenty-three?"

Lucie bit her lip chocking back tears. "I did not. What happened?"

The woman shook her head. "Turned out the man wasn't really an Aristo. There he was head bent so low to the ground and all, then citizen Defarge runs out into the middle bellowing and hollering all the while. Tells us the man we got isn't the man we wanted to kill. Told us, this was an Englishman who was a great supporter of the revolution and we couldn't kill him."

The girl with golden hair and bright blue eyes had a hard time holding back the smile that threatened to lay siege to her face. Defarge had listened to her! Sydney was alive. "What happened to the Englishman after they freed him?" she asked breathlessly.

The accurate knitter shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea. But he seemed to be the most bitter a gentleman that was ever freed by La Guillotine. Kept looking down at his feet during the entire ordeal. I'd assume he's already left and headed off to England."

Lucie put a hand to her head and realized it was hopeless to search for him among so many people. "Are you certain he did not say where he was going?"

"Why do you persist in asking these questions?" asked the woman remaining focused on her knitting. "Why does it matter to you to find this gentleman?"

Lucie chuckled slightly realizing that there was no point in keeping it secret from the world. Her Sydney was gone back to England and she was alone in France. It did not matter to her if the entire world knew now. "It matters because I love him."

"Ah," said the woman for the first time missing a stitch, "so he is your friend?"

"No…I mean yes…he is, but that is not the kind of love that I mean. I mean that I love him the way no one person has ever loved another. But I did not realize I loved him until he was already gone."

"Why did you never tell him before he decided to die for you?" asked the woman with a hint of curiosity.

Lucie opened her mouth to reply but then stopped short. "I never said he chose to die." Then swiftly Lucie bent down to the woman and removed the knitter's hat. She was astonished to find Sydney looking up at her with eyes full of love.

Slowly he stood up and dropped the needles and thread on the ground. He took off the rags of the old woman and revealed Mr. Darnay's clothes. Without any thought or word Lucie ran into his arms as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Why did you come back for me?" asked Sydney already knowing the answer.

"I started thinking about how happy I would be to see you in the coach sitting beside me. When Charles showed up I felt like crying, I wanted it to be you so badly."

"When I saw your eyes among all those devils," whispered Sydney to his love, "I hoped it was you looking at me. I hoped it was you. When did you first realize you loved me?"

She withdrew from him and looked up into his eyes. Lucie saw the man she loved smiling down at her with bliss. "It was when I saw myself in your smile."

But Sydney shook his head. "This is not possible. You cannot have this love for me that I have for you. I am nothing but a drunken good for nothing. I would only pull you down with me."

Lucie then shook her head. "But I see all that you could be, and I know that sometimes you do too. Sydney, I love you. I do not know what will happen to us tomorrow. I do not know what will happen to this country or to England. I do not know what Charles, and the rest of them sailing to England will think of me. All that I know…all that matters to me as the sun sets on this day is that I love you Sydney Carton. What I said before was true, every word. You are the most important person to me in this world besides my daughter. When I thought you were dead I did not care about your drinking, I did not care about your failures or flaws, I cared about the man I loved who I thought I would never see again. Now we are together I never want to be parted from you again."

Then Sydney bent down to her and kissed her on the lips. "I do not intend to be parted from you, my love, Lucie Manette."

sometimes in life...when all hope seems lost the best thing to do is find yourself a little fluffyness