A/N: And this, friends, is the product of my all-nighter, the sole purpose of which is to crush the souls of my friends. I hope you all sob.
Cosette had always thought that realizing she was dying would be a horrible feeling. In its place, there was but emptiness.
You see, there is a certain point in some people's lives when they reach the point where they know that they cannot go on, not for the sake of others or the courage they'd faithfully shown. The reason for this is that when all purpose of life has been wrenched away, much like the ripping of an old stuffed bear from a child's arms, the will to live has, in turn, vanished.
Cosette had reached this point, on a bed in the house she raised her family in, the house that still held lingering notes of her late husband. With Marius dead and gone, life was a maze with no more ways out than she had already discovered. Either she died or went on living. She preferred the lesser of the two evils.
There was a hollow feeling in her old and aching soul—something she had never felt, and would never have expected. It was not at all like the grief when her caretaker, the one who was like her father, passed away. It was not the slow, steady fire that was lit whenever she thought back on the Revolution, of all the innocent lives lost. And it was not acceptance, not quite like giving up.
She had no regrets, having lived her blessedly long life the best she could, with her love by her side, lighting the way. She could see bits and pieces of memories before her now—the way his eyes lit up with joy when he first professed his love to her; the radiant smile on his face when he beheld her in her wedding gown. And she could not forget the way he cradled their first child, the first of many, in his arms so tenderly.
Ah, those arms. How she wished she could be held in them just once more.
No, dying was not a horrible feeling, but a feeling she couldn't quite place.
She coughed weakly, and smiled. Marius had the faintest trace of his smile on his beautiful face when he passed, and she would, too. They were the kind of people who died happily.
Even though the years went by, Marius never lost his passion. The flame that was kindled the moment he joined the Revolution never once wavered, never flickered, never went out. She always admired him for that. No matter how small a task or insignificant a conflict, he approached it with the determined look she'd known like the back of her hand and loved more than anything else in the world.
Another cough pulled Cosette from her reminiscence. Of course, she still thought of all their children and grandchildren, and what they would do without her. She sighed. Poor things would mourn her till the end of their days—she knew her family.
Her eyes closed, whether the sickness taking its toll or of her own accord. Her last thought, her last wish, was of her Marius.
Oh, to be held in his arms.