Italia- Thanks m'amie! That means so much. Do you wanna talk about R? How much time you got? ;)
Punchy- Yeah well most OC stories have Enjolras dying while the OC gets preggers, so I decided to spice things up a notch. I'm sorry about Courfy, I'm even sorrier that there's some more depressingness in this chapter concerning him.. :(
TheIbis- I'm sorry for doing this to you! And I don't think you should dread this one *too* much. Oh and because I am overly pretentious when it comes to my (inadequate) French knowledge, I have to correct my darling reviewer on your little tidbit. It would me 'm'amie' if you are talking to me because I am a female. I looked at your profile (yes im creepy dont judge me) so you would be mon ami!
Mags- Aw thanks! That means a lot, especially coming from a new reviewer. :)
SPAS-YOU THINK YOU'RE SAD ABOUT THE END? THIS IS MY FIRST FULL LENGTH STORY AND I'VE BECOME VERY EMOTIONALLY ATTACHED.
So don't kill me about Montparnasse (although I get the feels that no one likes poor Parnasty) and Courfeyrac. This is the last chapter, and it's painfully short. I'm afraid to write anything more in this A/N because I might start to cry and that will ruin the computer.
Musichetta dragged her feet as she walked home. It was that all too familiar day in June, the tenth anniversary of the day that their loved ones met their untimely demises. Dubhghlas was, as expected, extremely upset over the loss of his sister, but he understood that both Henri and Musichetta had likewise lost loved ones. Although it was not spoken aloud, Musichetta understood that her young lover was riddled with grief, feeling that he could have saved his sister since they were both at the barricades.
She unlocked the door and opened it to the sight of Dubhghlas chasing a dark haired toddler around the living room. Henri was pouring over documents concerning the exhibition of Grantaire's works. His curiosity payed off, for it seemed that his rich investors were quite interested in the many star-cross'd lovers portrayed in R's works. A babe who could barely stand clutched onto Henri's pant leg as he worked, chewing on a metal toy.
Musichetta took a short moment to lean in the doorway, an almost sad smile in place. It was soon wiped away when Faye approached her with her latest lessons, as taught to her by Henri. Having never learned to be literate, Henri took his free time to teach the eldest Montparnasse child how to read and write.
Consumption seized Éponine mere weeks prior, resulting in an action from her husband that none expected of him. It was not common knowledge that while Éponine and Montparnasse were wed, she cared naught for him, but he did for her. He loved her in that odd, twisted way that those with blackened hearts can. He threw himself into the Seine on the day after her death, leaving behind his orphaned children.
Who were the Enjolras's to deny three poor children a home? They welcomed the new members with open arms. Since Henri was unable to produce children, Musichetta was finally given the large family she always wanted. And she couldn't ask for anything else.
The babe had long since fallen to the hard floor, causing his face to crinkle in the foreshadowing of a cry. Henri hurriedly picked up the one christened Marcel (after the late Enjolras) and allowed him to play on his lap. Dubhghlas caught the toddler by his chubby legs and hung him suspended in the air. The child shrieked as he was swung back and forth by the young man. They named him Georges (after Joly).
It appeared that Éponine never called her legitimate children by their names, so Faye did not know that her siblings possessed any names. It fell upon the Enjolras trio to christian them, and they did in memory of their losses. Faye's middle name was Ceara, while the baby Marcel's was Julien (after Courfeyrac) and Georges's was Alexandre (after Bossuet).
It was once the chaos slightly died down that the men took notice of the woman of the house. Her smile grew into a beam as she quickly kissed Henri's cheek and then flung herself into Dubhghlas's arms (squishing poor Georges between the two of them).
"What news have you received that has you in such a mood?" Asked Henri, pleasantly confused. He stood, carrying Marcel in his arms as he did so.
She looked at both her boys before placing a delicate hand on her stomach.
"I am with child."
It took a few moments to sink in, but once it did, they both released an exuberant shout and embraced her between the two of them (the small boys caught in their tangle of limbs). Faye saw the tender moment and latched her arms around Musichetta's waist so that she was a part as well.
The day of June 5th was, for once, a day without tears.
Gavroche had, against Éponine's wishes, returned to the barricade come morning. The sight he saw drove the gamin to tears. What his idols fought for seemed to amount to nothing. The barricade was but a collection of blood-stained splinters, and the cobblestone streets of the city that harbored their faith was strewn with bodies.
He took no notice of the few guardsmen that hung around the area, ducking into the Corinth to see the official line of bodies. He looked down into each of the faces, wincing slightly as he looked upon the dead. He saw Bahorel, the one who stole his heart with his violent tendencies. He saw Feuilly, the kind-hearted workman who the other street children nicknamed 'the big gamin'. He saw Joly and Combeferre, men he recognized who used to visit the slums and treat the children for free.
Of course, towards the end of the line, he caught sight of Ceara. The mere sight of her made him stand still with the reality of the event. Sure, he had known the men to a certain extent, but the only dead rebels whom he really, truly knew were Ceara, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras. He caught sight of the latter, last in line. He was holding hands with the drunken artist. It appeared that their grips were so tight that not even death could break apart the unlikely comrades.
He felt his eyes regrettably turn back to Ceara. Her eyes were still open and she appeared relatively normal but for the side of her head that was matted with blood. That could have been his sister, and he shuddered at the simple thought. Courfeyrac had informed Gavroche what his plan was prior to breaking things off with Éponine. Gavroche had, of course, agreed whole-heartedly.
He and Éponine were more than worried when Courfeyrac never appeared at Joly and Bossuet's garret. Finally, Éponine fell asleep with her head in Musichetta's lap. The older woman raked her delicate hands through the girl's tangled hair as she slept. When Musichetta wasn't looking, Gavroche stole into the dawn-coated streets.
He half-expected to find Courfeyrac amongst the dead, and was immensely relieved to not. He hoped that the student had gone to Éponine while Gavroche was away. While that would make his little trip useless, Gavroche hung onto his daydream in that odd way that children do.
He continued meandering sadly about the ruins, nearly unnoticeable amongst the filth of the aftermath.
Meanwhile, two men in National Guardsmen's uniforms sat with a bottle between the two of them. One of them was an ordinary officer who offered the random soldier a drink to celebrate their victory. The other had hesitatedly taken the man up on his offer, his eyes steel as they toasted to the loss of the revolutionaries.
The officer leaned close to the other man, his breath full of wine and blood. "See that gamin over there?"
"What of him?" Asked the other man in a monotone voice. "It is but a street boy, he is of no importance."
"I bet I can hit him from here." The officer gloated, picking up his musket from where it lay on the ground beside him. The soldier snorted.
"No you can't, and you shan't. Will you not get in trouble for killing an innocent boy?" He asked, his eyesight surprisingly sharp for one whose senses should be dulled by drink.
"No. Not in this mess. I can say he was one of them and who would think anything of it?" Without saying anything else, the officer raised his gun and shot at Gavroche, who started in surprise. The bullet embedded itself in the brick wall behind the boy. The officer took aim again, but before he could pull the trigger, the soldier leapt to his feet and pulled the barrel towards himself in opposition of the gamin. The gun went off, pointed at the soldier's heart.
He was dead immediately.
The soldier was Courfeyrac.
Soo don't kill me please...
And just because I kept forgetting to put these in the A/N's:
There are two RENT references! The first being Dubhghlas's neighbors, Rodolfo, Marcello, Colline and Shunaurd. And Courfeyrac tells Dubhghlas at the barricades to 'Live your life in love'.
I AM SO SAD THAT THIS IS DONE. SOMEONE HOLLLDDD MMEEEEE