CHAPTER 6 - TRAGEDY STRIKES

The wait was tense and silent. All three young men knew what was going to happen, yet none of them could bear to voice it. They simply sat there, watching Christine's chest rise and fall, terrified that it would stop moving at any minute.

Four hours into their vigil, Christine began to struggle for breath. She was conscious, for her eyes were suddenly wide and alert and full of pain. She groaned and cried in agony, clutching at her stomach in vain. She was shaking violently. René and Etienne both went white; recognising by the shallow breaths that she had very little time left.

"Julien! Julien!" she sobbed, reaching for her brother's hand. Julien moved to her side and gathered her in his arms, letting her rest her head upon his shoulder.

"Oh Julien, it hurts so badly!" she sobbed. "Don't leave! Please don't leave me!"

"It's alright Christine!" he replied, his voice far from steady. "Ssssh, it's alright. I'm not going anywhere! I'll stay here as long as you need me to! Just breathe for me, please! Keep breathing!"

"It hurts so much!" she whimpered, clinging to him fervently. "I can't bear it!"

Julien cast troubled ice-blue eyes to his older brother. René shook his head sadly. He couldn't put anymore sedatives into Christine's system. It would simply be too much for her and her heart would give up! And while he hated to see his sister in pain, he simply could not speed up her passing!

Blinking back tears, Julien tightened his hold on Christine and began to rock her gently as he used to do when she came to him in the night after having a nightmare. She was shaking in his arms, and a sheen of sweat shone on her forehead. Her eyes were rapidly slipping in and out of focus.

"Am I going to die?" she asked as her breathing began to speed up again, sounding so small and frail that Etienne thought his heart might explode from the sorrow.

"Of course not, Christine. Of course not!" lied Julien at once. "You're going to stay here with us and you're going to recover!" René wondered if his little brother was trying to convince himself; rather than their sister.

"Does it hurt?" she dazedly asked René. The eldest sibling hurried to sit beside them on the bed.

"Does what hurt, sweetheart?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"Dying." Christine broke into another bout of wheezing sobs. Shocked, René exchanged a stricken glance at Etienne. What was he supposed to tell her?

"I…I don't expect so." he whispered softly. "I imagine all the pain will fade away. I think it will be just like putting the light out to go to sleep." He had no idea what he was really saying. He was just babbling the first nonsense that came into his head in the hope it would calm his sister. Seeing her wretch, he grabbed a basin just in time, as she was violently sick. It was tinged with blood.

"I didn't want to die!" Christine was rambling now, sobbing on Julien's shoulder and gulping for air. "I just wanted to grow up and get married so I could have children! I wasn't being greedy or anything! I just wanted to be normal!"

"Ssssh, we know." soothed Julien. "We know. No one thinks you're greedy, sweetheart. Please calm down."

But Christine was too far gone into delirious hysterics to be calmed; dazed by the fever and in agony from the blinding pain. She continued to cry convulsively in her brother's arms, clinging to Julien like there was no tomorrow. She was rapidly losing awareness of where she was and the only fact that could stick in her mind was that Julien was sitting on her bed beside her, and it was always Julien who could make everything go right again.

She began to shudder, as her struggle for breath became more violent. Even Julien's limited medical knowledge recognised that she was fading rapidly. He held on to her protectively; wanting her to spend her last moments knowing she was not alone. At that moment, he wanted more than anything to take the pain away from her and place it on himself. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.

Reading his brother's mind, René moved closer and wrapped his arms around both his siblings, as Etienne watched on, distraught.

"It's alright, Christine." whispered René, gently stroking her golden curls. "We're here. We're here…don't be afraid. You're safe with us."

Whether it was the effect of René's gentle words, or if she simply couldn't bear to fight anymore, Christine's heart had finally had enough pain. With a soft sigh, she went suddenly still in her brothers' arms, her arms still wrapped around Julien's neck, her head sliding against his throat.

"NO!" the broken, guttural sob echoed through the room, then was immediately stifled. Julien tightened his hold on Christine, shutting his eyes tightly, as if that would fight away the numb waves of emotional pain suddenly shooting through him.

"Julien." René placed a hand behind his brother's head. "Petit, she's gone now."

Julien didn't answer, hugging his sister against him. René looked stunned and his eyes were full of tears, but his first concern was for his youngest brother.

"Julien!" he called gently again, as he shifted to carefully remove Christine from his brother's embrace and lay her back on the bed. Swallowing a sob, he tenderly closed her eyes, before drawing Julien back into his embrace.

"She'll be free now, Julien." he whispered. "She's not in pain anymore. It's better this way."

"She's so young! This can't be better!" Julien's voice was strangled and too high. "How can she be dead? She…she's only fourteen!"

"I know, petit, I know. There is no justice." René held him tightly, speaking to him in the tones he had kept for him as a child, while a tearful Etienne sat down beside him and offered a comforting arm around his shoulders. "But you must let her go, Julien. She's at peace now. Let her go."

Julien didn't reply; he was struggling too much to swallow his tears. René sighed inwardly – this was his father's doing. He himself would have much preferred it if his brother had simply sobbed and let the grief flow through his system, rather than bottle it up and hide his feelings away. But Julien was Julien - stubborn and controlled - and he was so afraid of being labelled weak that it would take much persuading to finally get him to cry.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When René summoned their parents to break the news, Julien's face once more became the marble façade Etienne knew so well. He'd seen his friend use it almost daily in Paris around those he was not close to. He'd seen it used to cover nervousness, embarrassment, relief…even happiness. It was sorrowful to witness.

So it seemed that René was the only Enjolras willing to show his grief. While Julien fought his emotions, the tears ran down René's face as he combed Christine's hair and washed the perspiration from her forehead. Louis and Antoine, however, stood there with bored, sneering expressions; clearly only there because propriety demanded it. They made not even the slightest pretence at grief. They whispered back and forth, rolling their eyes and snickering; showing no respect for their dead sister at all.

Madame Enjolras squeezed out a few obligatory tears, before immediately beginning to fuss over which gown her daughter would be laid out in, how her hair should be fixed and other such shallow nonsense. She simply had to look well, for the village would expect them to bury their daughter with elegance.

Her husband showed even less emotion. He looked grave, of course, but no different than he would have done at a formal meal. When René dared to wonder aloud at his family's insensitivity, he was coldly informed that 'Daughters are of very little consequence to their fathers. Merely a burden that must be tolerated until their dowry is paid.'

At this statement, Julien's face went unearthly white with fury. Quickly recognising the signs of an outburst, Etienne discreetly clapped his hand over Julien's mouth; glad that the rest of the family had their backs to them. Julien lowered his head again, his shoulders sagging. Etienne put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

When his mother began to prattle that it really was most unfortunate that Christine had died so soon, as a couple of the young officers from the neighbouring militia regiment had been quite keen on her and it might have been quite a good marriage; Julien could bear it no longer. He stormed out of the room and ran up the corridor, leaving Etienne to follow in his tracks.

The young medical student moved quietly up the corridor and slipped into his friend's room, knocking softly on the door. He found Julien sitting on his bed, his face hidden by shaking hands.

"Talk to me, mon ami." Etienne instructed softly, sitting down and putting his arm around him. Julien raised his head, but there was still no sign of tears, like the ones making tracks down Etienne's own face.

"Did you hear them?" demanded Julien angrily, his voice rough with emotion. "The way the talked about her! She isn't even cold yet and my mother is worrying over which dress she'll be buried in! They've even organised the bloody funeral! They couldn't even wait until she died! They act as though she was nothing!"

"I know, Julien. I heard them." Etienne was having trouble controlling his own emotions. "It was terrible. She deserved more respect than that."

"And my father, calling her a meaningless burden!" fumed Julien. "If it hadn't meant being thrown out before her funeral, I believe I might have punched him!"

"Julien, please…" pleaded Etienne, tightening his arm around his best friend. "Don't do anything rash! You'll get yourself in so much trouble!"

Julien just sighed, raising his eyes to meet Etienne's. From furious young man to lost little boy in one blink. Etienne just hugged him tighter, feeling a brotherly wish to protect him.

"It's almost one o'clock." he said quietly, taking his watch from his pocket and giving it a incredulous glance. "You should sleep, mon ami. You look exhausted."

"I don't think I could sleep!" Julien muttered sadly. "I just…I can't believe she's gone."

"I'll stay with you then." said Etienne softly. "I may not be able to help, but at least you know I'm here if you need me."

"Thank you." said Julien bleakly. "I'd appreciate the company."

And so they sat together well into the night, not saying much, but each simply glad of the other's comforting presence.

And still Julien didn't cry.