Chapter XV

The next few days flew by quickly, and both Gabrielle and Enjolras were so tired every night they barely said two words to each other before falling asleep; however, one thing had changed since they made love for the first time: in the morning, Gabrielle usually found her body tangled with his. Her leg thrown over his hips, his arm holding her firmly against him, or her head resting on his chest had all become familiar in the last week. Even though they hadn't made love again, it all felt remarkably intimate. Whenever she happened to wake before Enjolras, Gabrielle stayed frozen for as long as she possibly could, just to enjoy his touch.

The more time that went by, the more Gabrielle felt herself daydreaming about being with him again, as well, and the more frenzied their hurried kisses and touches had become.

Word had finally gotten out about the churches serving meals in the evening, though, and the work was taking up more and more of her time. Gabrielle found herself sadly turning many people away every night, since they didn't have the money to buy more food. Genevieve had been devoting herself almost entirely to fundraising and leaving Gabrielle in charge of coordinating everything else, and Cosette had proven to be an invaluable help, too. Gabrielle suspected she was really only involved because of Marius, but she respected the other young woman's work ethic just the same. For being so demure and ladylike, Cosette wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty at all.

The paper had been momentarily put on hold, since both Marius and Enjolras were about to take their final exams. Enjolras had already begun working a few days a week for Monsieur Durand, as well, and Marius with his grandfather. Gabrielle noticed how Enjolras' tension slowly faded away after he climbed into bed each evening, though, and she hoped it had something to do with her. She certainly forgot everything when she was in his arms.

One night, she found herself at the church, as usual, cleaning up after a long day of cooking and serving meals. The kitchen was a mess, but the stack of dirty dishes was slowly getting smaller with Cosette's help. Just as she finished washing one pile, she looked up to see Enjolras in the doorway. He looked tired, but his eyes brightened as they met hers.

"Antoine! What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd stop by and see you for a moment. You look busy, though..." He glanced around at the mess and said hello to Cosette.

Cosette greeted Enjolras over her shoulder and then said, "She isn't too busy to see you for a few minutes. Go ahead, Gabrielle, I'm fine here."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

At Cosette's nod of insistence, Gabrielle dried her hands, removed her apron, and walked over to Enjolras, taking his hand as he led her from the hot and stuffy kitchen. They wandered outside to the little courtyard between the kitchen and the hall where the homeless slept every night. It wasn't large, but it was secluded and private. Enjolras glanced around to see if anyone else was about before tugging Gabrielle behind some tall bushes, successfully hiding them from anyone walking by on the little pathway.

She grinned and squeezed his hand, her stomach doing a giddy somersault at his sweet and endearing behavior. "What are we doing hidden back here?"

He abruptly pulled her close to him and leaned down, burying his face in her neck. "I wanted to see you," he mumbled, gently kissing just below her ear. "I'm going to work tonight, of all things, and you're on the way there, and I couldn't stop myself from coming here."

"Oh." Gabrielle ran her fingers through his hair and tilted her head back as his lips moved over her skin. "Well, I'm glad you're here..." She shivered a bit as he found her pulse and concentrated there.

Enjolras' hand wandered from her waist to her breast and Gabrielle bit her lip as he trailed his fingers over flesh, sensitive even through her layers of clothing. She glanced around to make sure they were still alone, her hand moving to cover his and pull it back to her waist. "Antoine," she chastised, though she wasn't really annoyed or nervous at all. "What has gotten into you?"

He pulled away and frowned.

"I don't know, actually." He leaned down and kissed her roughly, his tongue mingling with hers, and Gabrielle returned his ardor. She found his passion unbelievably attractive, especially since it was so unexpected.

"You have too many clothes on," he mumbled against her lips and Gabrielle laughed, playfully trying to pull away again.

"While I agree, we really shouldn't do this here..."

He glared at her and pulled her back to him. "No one is around."

"Not now, but they could be at any time. And I shouldn't leave Cosette alone..." Even though Gabrielle desperately wanted him, and didn't really care where or how, she knew she spoke the truth. It would be horribly embarrassing if they were caught.

Enjolras finally sighed and leaned back against the brick wall behind him, letting his hands drop to his sides in defeat. "I suppose you're right. I know you have work to do. And I'll probably be very late tonight, there's no need to wait up for me."

Gabrielle smiled and stepped closer, resting her hands on his chest.

"Well, don't be late," she stressed. "Come home earlier than you plan to and I will wait for you."

In fact, she couldn't imagine waiting hardly another minute, but she had to. Gabrielle thought of more of Musichetta's advice and blushed, gently kissing the exposed skin at the base of his throat. If he is brave enough to touch me, I can do the same to him...

Before she could talk herself out of it, Gabrielle boldly let her hand trail down his chest and rest on the front of his pants. He was already hard, she noticed, and Enjolras gripped her arms, sucking in a deep breath as she squeezed.

His reaction was better than anticipated. For being able to usually hide his emotions so well, Gabrielle mused, Enjolras did have trouble doing so when surprised. His eyes darkened, and Gabrielle leaned up and kissed him, wrapping her other arm around his neck. He kissed her back, his breath becoming ragged, and Gabrielle had a feeling that if she didn't stop soon, he wouldn't be able to.

And besides, teasing him was rather fun...

As abruptly as she'd started, she stopped, and quickly took a step back. She grinned at his scowl, and thought he had never looked more handsome than he did at that moment. She looked pointedly down at his swollen trousers and raised her eyebrows. "So...I can expect you home early?"

He looked a bit bewildered and shook his head.

"How did this even happen to me?" he asked seriously, and Gabrielle snorted in laughter. She backed away slowly, still waiting for his answer, and he finally nodded. "Yes, I'll see you early."

"Good. Goodbye, Antoine!" Gabrielle turned and practically skipped away, still giddy from the feel of his lips on hers.

She was back in the kitchen before he had moved, and only grinned in answer when Cosette raised her eyebrows at Gabrielle's swollen lips.

Damn her, Enjolras thought to himself. When had he become a man who cared about these kinds of physical, earthly things, who found himself imagining, at the most inappropriate times of day, how amazing it felt to be inside of her, how soft her lips were, how good she had tasted...

He had never craved physical pleasure like other men. Yes, he had been attracted to several women over the years and been intrigued by the idea of sex, but it just never seemed that important. Maybe this insatiable need he couldn't shake would have happened sooner if he had actually given into his occasional cravings, but Enjolras had always prided himself on being able to see the bigger picture and lay aside distractions.

He had work to do. He had a life to try and get back, a purpose to regain, and he found himself thinking of a woman? He was no better than Pontmercy, thinking of Gabrielle when there were more important and pressing things going on in the world.

And yet, he still found himself leaving a pile of work on his desk at Durand's office and going home within the hour. He couldn't concentrate on anything, anyway.

He opened the door to the apartment to find it dark.

"Gabrielle?" Enjolras cursed as he tripped over a book on the floor. They really needed a bigger place to live, he thought.

"In here," Gabrielle's voice called softly from the bedroom.

Enjolras wasted no time – if this was all he'd been thinking about, he certainly wasn't going to play games tonight – and tore off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, leaving a trail of clothing in his wake as he crossed the room to the bedchamber.

Despite the chill, the window was open, bathing Gabrielle in soft moonlight. Her hair was loose, just as Enjolras liked it, and fell down her back in loose waves. The bed sheet covered her chest, but as she turned to look at him, she let it fall, seeing he was already half-naked himself.

Enjolras quickly unbuttoned his pants and slipped them off, noticing how Gabrielle's eyes trailed down his body to study him. He felt his skin growing hot under her gaze.

"You came home early." She smiled and beckoned him over to the bed with a finger.

Enjolras stopped at the edge and said in a rather disgruntled tone, "And left a mountain of work to do. You're going to get me fired before I've even really started."

"Me?" she said innocently, and reached for his hand, pulling him down on top of her. "I am most certainly not your master..."

"No?" He kissed her shoulder, nuzzling her neck with his nose. "I can't seem to concentrate on much of anything since being with you. I'm completely useless."

Gabrielle hooked her leg around his and Enjolras shifted, pressing against her. "I disagree," she said, "I think you may be rather good at this..."

Enjolras smiled, running a hand over her hips. "Can I...?" He suddenly felt a bit nervous. He didn't know if he would still hurt her, and though he didn't want to be with her if it would cause her pain, he also thought he might go throw himself into the Seine if he couldn't be inside of her soon.

She nodded and raised her hips to meet his. He inserted himself in her slowly and closed his eyes at the sensation.

Gabrielle let out a soft breath against his ear and Enjolras moaned. How annoying that this felt so good. He began to move, pushing in and out of her, and finding her little breathless gasps alarmingly alluring.

"It doesn't hurt anymore?" he worried.

She shook her head. "God, no...please keep going, please."

She grasped his arms tightly, beginning to move with him. His breath quickened, and he captured her mouth as she whispered his name, kissing her deeply. She whimpered against his lips and pulled away, throwing her head back and gasping. It was all he took to bring him to the edge, and Enjolras soon found himself collapsing on top of her. She pushed his damp curls away from his forehead and he raised his eyes to hers, moving to lie beside her.

Gabrielle turned to face him, her fingers tracing circles on his chest and shoulders. When he felt calm enough to speak again, he said quietly, "This is going to take some getting used to."

"Yes. It's rather overwhelming."

They didn't speak again for some time, but Enjolras wrapped his arms around Gabrielle and pulled her into his chest.

"Are you really...are you angry about this happening between us? You seemed so genuinely annoyed to be here, but then you also seem to enjoy it. Sometimes I don't know what to make of you," Gabrielle admitted.

"I don't know what to make of it myself, Gabrielle. It's just so different..." Enjolras didn't know how to explain himself, but he felt dreadful thinking he had made her feel bad in any way.

"Well, we've never been with anyone else. Maybe it just takes some getting used to?" Gabrielle ran her hand against his jaw, tracing his lips with her fingers. He felt himself growing aroused again at her touch and leaned forward to kiss her.

Maybe it would feel more normal with time, less consuming and overpowering. And, he mused, at least it did feel good.

Raucous laughter drifted down the stairs leading to the second floor of the Café Musain, and Enjolras was annoyed at how late he was. Nothing in the world bothered him more than being late, and consequently, he was usually the first to arrive. Today was different, however; he had been busy meeting with his source, a servant of General Lamarque's, to learn more about the general's condition. And so now Enjolras was late to his own emergency meeting.

Late or not, he now had the valuable information he needed. General Lamarque was not expected to live, and that gave them possibly only days to gather everything the Les Amis needed for their barricade. More guns, more ammunition, more people...all of that would be helpful. Enjolras didn't know if he could pull any of it off, though he would never let his doubts show in front of his friends.

He entered the room and dropped his bag on a table. His friends immediately quieted a bit at his presence.

"You're late," Combeferre pointed out. "You must have a good reason."

"Actually, yes..."

"I know exactly why he's late," Courfeyrac interrupted, an uncharacteristic sneer of derision on his face.

Enjolras raised his eyebrows, taken aback. "Well then, please, Courfeyrac, tell me."

"Gladly. While we all sit here waiting on our fearless leader, you're busy fucking Feuilly's sister."

Enjolras' mouth fell open. "Excuse me? What gives you the right to imply..."

"He's not implying, Enjolras, he's telling. We're all dead, and there you sit, with that fool Pontmercy, fawning over your women. What gives you the right?" Bossuet said icily.

Enjolras took a step back, feeling bile rise in his throat. What did Bossuet mean, they were dead?

"What...what in the hell are you all talking about?" Enjolras glanced around the room, noticing a few missing faces: Marius, Joly, Feuilly...where were they?

"Don't you remember, Enjolras?" Enjolras turned at the sound of Grantaire's voice close to his ear.

"I gave you everything," Grantaire whispered, hurt and desperation in his eyes. "We gave you everything, and your little revolution..." he spat the word, scowling, and paused for effect, "...it killed us. All of us. Dead because of you, in just one night. Yet you live? And you dare to be happy, sitting on your arse in a law office all day, making love to your wife every night? It's despicable." Grantaire spat at Enjolras' feet.

Enjolras sputtered, his terror growing as foggy memories began to resurface. He squeezed his eyes shut, and jumped at a sudden deafening volley of gunfire echoing throughout the room. When he finally dared open his eyes again, he was horrified to see the bodies of his friends laying on the floor, their eyes open and unseeing, crimson blood spreading across their chests. And he could hear the soldiers downstairs, trying to get up, trying to get to him and Grantaire, the only two left standing...

Grantaire reached out a hand and roughly pushed on Enjolras' chest. "It should have been you," he said coldly.

Enjolras jerked awake with a gasp, sitting straight up in bed. His chest was heaving, and he had broken out in a cold sweat. He closed his eyes, trying to banish their faces from his mind.

"Antoine?" Gabrielle whispered beside him. She laid a tentative hand on his back and scooted closer, gently kissing his bare shoulder. "Are you alright?"

He cringed at her touch, remembering Courfeyrac's words. What right did he have to be with her? To experience actual pleasure? He had killed his friends...

"Did you have a dream?" Gabrielle pressed quietly. She ran her hand down his spine and he sighed, lifting his knees and resting his head against them. He felt like a terrified child, terror creeping up on him in the night. It wasn't the first time it had happened since the barricade, but it was usually just horrible memories, and not burning accusations from his dead friends. Was it just a dream, or was it some sort of message from beyond the grave, Enjolras wondered? They had every right to be furious with him. How could he let himself feel anything but sorrow?

"Yes, I had a dream." He hated himself for the comfort he felt from Gabrielle's touch.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Enjolras turned his head toward her and said hoarsely, "No."

"Oh." Gabrielle tried to disguise the hurt on her face, and he immediately felt even angrier at himself for hurting her as he felt her hand drop away from his back. "I understand, of course, but...you know I won't judge you," she whispered.

Enjolras watched her silently, the minutes ticking by. She didn't look at him, but played with a loose thread in the sheets, holding them modestly up against her bare chest. He couldn't read the expression on her face, and wondered which one of them would give in first, or if they would sit there all night long.

"Go back to sleep, Gabrielle," he finally mumbled, and pulled the sheets back, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and preparing to rise. There would be no more rest for him that night. Perhaps not ever.

"No," she said forcefully, and reached out to grab his arm, fire burning in her eyes. It was unexpected. "That's not fair, Antoine. I can guess what your dream was about, I don't need you to tell me. And I don't need you to push me away. Why won't you let me help you?"

He looked at her sadly, covering her hand with his own. "I don't deserve your help, Gabrielle. I don't deserve to do these things we've been doing with each other, I don't deserve to make love to you, to feel any sort of happiness..."

Her eyes softened and she tugged on his arm, trying to pull him back into bed.

"I do. I deserve it," she stressed.

His chest constricted at her words, even more guilt suddenly piling upon his shoulders. How could he ever give her what she wanted, what she deserved in a husband?

It seemed she wouldn't take no for an answer, however, and before he knew it, she had climbed into his lap, straddling his hips and holding him down. Enjolras automatically wrapped his arms around her back.

Gabrielle cupped his face and forced him to look at her. "All of this was your idea," she said lightly, trying to change his mood. "You started it, with this ridiculous idea of marriage, and you kissed me first," she reminded him, planting a gentle kiss on the top of his nose. "You don't get to change your mind now, not after the last two weeks that we've been together..."

It had been going so well, he thought. They had promised to do what needed to be done during the day, to forcibly put distractions aside and concentrate on the important matters they were both devoted to. But, at night, they gave in and lost themselves in each other and it had seemed to be balancing out. He had finally begun to feel like himself again, or rather, a new version of himself.

He frowned. "I'm not changing my mind, Gabrielle, it's more complicated than that..."

She shook her head and interrupted. "No, it isn't. You will let yourself get lost in your guilt again if I leave you alone. You'll pull away from me, and stop talking, and give me sad looks, like you've ruined my life. So," she shrugged, "I'll use your guilt to my advantage, if I have to. You owe it to my brother to make me happy."

He glared at her for a moment, a little bit in awe of her easy manipulation and forthrightness.

"You are wicked," he replied, and found his lips curving upward in an impressed half-smile.

"Oh?" She smirked playfully, and slowly began to grind her hips against his. He cursed himself for immediately feeling aroused, his body betraying him. Easily manipulated, indeed.

"You deserve to be happy, too, Antoine. And I know you've felt happy, here with me...haven't you?" she whispered, pressing her lips to his cheek.

"Yes..." he finally admitted.

"Then stop thinking," she urged, moving her hips again and trailing kisses along his jaw. His grip tightened as he felt her move against him, her breasts brushing against his chest. He finally gave in and kissed her roughly, his hands moving to her bottom. Gabrielle abruptly pulled away, lifting herself onto her knees, and slowly sank down onto his length. She had become fearless with him, and he couldn't imagine being more turned on by anyone or anything.

He scooted farther back onto the bed and she pushed him down onto his back, keeping her hands firmly on his chest and leaning forward. He was fascinated watching her face as she pivoted her hips. She threw her head back, her movements speeding up a bit. He thrust up into her and she leaned down, kissing him deeply. There was a frenzy to their touches and movements this time, and their love-making wasn't as gentle as usual. Neither minded, and Enjolras found himself covering Gabrielle's mouth to stifle her screams as she came. As strangely proud as it made him to know he made those noises come out of her, his modesty didn't want the whole building to know what they were doing.

Later, as he lay awake watching her sleep, completely sated and satisfied, his dream came back to him. Courfeyrac and Graintaire's words still stung, imaginary though they may be. And he wondered why, out of all the Les Amis, Feuilly was the only one who hadn't made an appearance, when he perhaps had the most to be angry about of them all.

In a few days, Enjolras met Joly and Marius for lunch. They had decided to proceed with the paper since exams were now behind them, and ever since his rather disturbing dream, Enjolras had felt the fire flowing through his blood again. He should have never stopped or given up at all, he often chastised himself. He couldn't let his friends deaths be in vain. And every day, he was still confronted with the desperate people of the streets, starving and diseased. Such injustice and blatant disregard for humanity should never be allowed.

He was tired, but motivated, and fell back into the role of a leader easily, though it was of a rather smaller group than he was used to. He hadn't yet brought the paper to Durand's attention; he supposed the air of secrecy they had always borne hadn't yet left him.

"What about printers? Do you think some of our old sources would be willing to let us use their presses? A paper is rather bigger than a few flyers," Joly pointed out.

"We'll pay them, of course. We probably won't make a dime out of this at all," Enjolras said, "so I hope neither of you were counting on that."

"No. In fact, I figure we'll come out on the other side," Marius grinned. "Though I hope it doesn't force us all into bankruptcy."

"It shouldn't. Now, how big should this be? What will we include?"

"You should write the first piece," Joly said firmly. "State our objectives, what we aim for, wish for. Although..." he hesitated. "I don't think you should use your name. I hope you're smarter than that."

"I'm not scared to," Enjolras insisted, though he knew it was foolish.

"No, but you have Gabrielle to think of now," Marius reminded him.

Enjolras frowned, and suddenly found himself telling Joly and Marius about his dream from a few weeks ago, and Grantaire's biting accusations. He didn't know why it came tumbling out of him, but he felt relief once the words had been released into the air.

Both men were silent for several minutes after Enjolras stopped speaking, not used to him actually opening up about much of anything other than his passion for his country.

Enjolras ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I shouldn't burden you both with my troubles."

"It isn't a burden," Marius insisted. "Don't you realize we both have the same thoughts? Frequently?"

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. Honestly, it hadn't occurred to him to think that Marius and Joly may have been just as affected by the barricade as him, at least where guilt was concerned.

"I still have nightmares," Joly admitted. "And immense guilt. I'm the one who left, Enjolras."

"I made you," Enjolras reminded him.

"We could talk in circles about it all day," Marius said sensibly. "We all wish it would have been different, that our friends were still here with us. But we can't change the past."

They were silent again for a while and Enjolras began scribbling on the paper in front of him, jotting down random ideas.

Joly's voice suddenly broke into his thoughts. "Are you happy with her, Enjolras? With Gabrielle?"

Enjolras paused and glanced up at them, feeling his cheeks turning uncomfortably red. "Perhaps..."

Marius grinned and elbowed Joly in the side, taking delight in Enjolras' embarrassment. "You owe me, Joly. I told you he was in love with her."

Joly shrugged. "I never said he wasn't, I just said he might be too dense to realize it."

"I've realized no such thing," Enjolras insisted. "I care for her. I enjoy being with her. I enjoy...well..." he shrugged and said casually, "I enjoy the benefits of being married."

Joly's mouth fell open. "Wait, what? Are you two sleeping together? I thought that wasn't part of your agreement with her at all..."

"It wasn't. But it's happened, anyway," Enjolras said matter-of-factly. "And that's all I'm going to say about it."

Marius clamped his lips together to keep from laughing, but Joly pressed on. "I can't even believe you finally did it! I often thought you should have just been a priest! Without the particular love of religion, of course..."

Enjolras glared at him. "Honestly, Joly." He rose and began to gather his things. "I'm not going to talk about it with you. Gabrielle deserves better than that. And Feuilly would kill me, were he here."

"Oh, no he wouldn't..." Marius said quietly.

Enjolras stopped. "Of course he would. It's pathetic, really, how everything has happened with us. She deserves more than me."

"No, he thought you were rather well suited for her, actually," Marius said. "He told me so, that night you walked her home. I swear it."

Enjolras was puzzled. "He did?"

Marius nodded, watching Enjolras' reaction.

Enjolras carefully made his face blank, and put the rest of his papers in his bag. "Shall we go?"

"That's all you have to say?"

"Yes. For now."

Marius and Joly rose and followed Enjolras, and he missed the knowing look that passed between them behind his back.

They began walking, and the subject soon changed to other things, namely the new cases they had been given at work. The street was busy, and Enjolras found himself squeezing through and around people as they hurried back to work.

"Enjolras!" Enjolras stopped and turned back at Joly's shout. Joly beckoned him back over to a shop window. "Marius went inside to get something for Cosette."

Enjolras nodded and glanced at the things in the window, wandering to the shop next door. His eyes immediately flew to a hand-painted fan in the window, a memory fluttering to the forefront of his mind as he studied the painted silk. "There was a fan he painted, of Orpheus playing his lyre at the edge of the water, with nymphs all around. The colors were so bright and vivid, and it was so detailed, so him. I wanted to break the window and take it, but I didn't have the nerve...and now I suppose I will never see it again." Gabrielle had looked so sad that night.

Enjolras squinted, his heart beating rapidly. He called Joly over to see it.

"Do you think it could be Feuilly's?" he asked hopefully.

Joly was practically jumping with excitement. "Whose else could it be? If that's how she described it, I don't think it could be any other! Go buy it, Enjolras, it will mean everything to Gabrielle!"

"Of course." Enjolras hurried into the shop and bought the fan, finding his stomach doing strange somersaults once it was actually in his hands. This was Feuilly's; he had touched it, lovingly painted the soft silk with his own hands. Gabrielle wouldn't believe he had found it for her.

Enjolras carried the fan back outside and found both Marius and Joly waiting for him.

"Good God, Enjolras, finding that fan is like finding a needle in a haystack," Marius said wonderingly.

"Lets see it closer," Joly said. "Did he put his name on it?"

Enjolras opened the fan, searching for Feuilly's tiny signature. They found it on the very edge, so miniscule it was hard to make out, but it was there.

"What luck," Joly mumbled. "I can't believe you spotted it."

Marius smiled and clapped Enjolras on the shoulder. "I think you need not look any further for Feuilly's approval, Enjolras. Maybe that wasn't luck at all."

You guys are SO AWESOME. I love you all, seriously. Your reviews are great, but so are your PMs, and I really enjoy talking to each and every one of you about this story!

With that said, if you want to follow me on Twitter, just search for IrishSongBird. (I'm super boring over there, though, seriously.)

And also, I was thinking...does anyone have anything they really want to see from this story? Some random scene, pre-barricade/post-barricade/way in the future/smut-wise/babies, etc? If you give me a prompt, I may either a) work it into the story if it fits or b) write it in a one-shot or series of out-takes. (I already have several that I wrote early on and now don't really fit, but I may post them separately if there's interest.) You can write the prompt in a review or PM and I'll see what I can do.

And last...I'm kind of finding myself planning a sequel to this already, since I was kind of wondering to myself what Enjolras and Gabrielle's roles would have been in the eventual and real revolution of 1848. Enjolras would roughly be, what? 39/40 years old. And Gabrielle 34 or 35. So they'd be around, in my cracked out alternate universe. AND I LOVE HISTORY. Ha We'll see what happens. Any interest in this, either?

Thanks for reading, wonderful people!