Just another chapter here..no explanation on with the story!

Chapter 10: The First and The Last

'Wake up sweethearts,' Clara whispered gently to the two young girls sharing a double bed.

Clara had been awake for hours on the floor beside them. She had long since given up her bed for the sake of the two children she cared for as much as any mother would care for her daughter. It had been a very restless night, with both waking up at regular intervals, pining for the comfort only Clara could offer them, and having no intention of sleeping herself, she was only too happy to help them get through the night.

There was one blissful moment just as the girls woke up when they had forgotten what this day would bring, and they sat up in their bed looking out of the window to the sunrise. Then everything came flooding back, and their hopeful, youthful faces were replaced with the fear of a child preparing to look for the monster under their bed. However, Clara was determined that this day would not bring the worst.

'I win!' exclaimed Harry, moving his counter to land perfectly on square 100. It was not a normal scene to see, a fourteen, fifteen and eighteen year old opting to play Snakes & Ladders on a chilly autumn morning, but it was one of those days when it didn't matter what the distraction was, just that it was there.

'Congratulations Harry, looks like you have the luck of the dice,' Freddie said to his older brother. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen to him if Harry were to…

Being only one year older than him, the two were as close as twins, always had been and always would be, and the thought of Freddie living without Harry was too much to bear. Freddie had matured a lot over the last few years, and grew an uncanny resemblance to Courfeyrac who both Harry and Freddie admired beyond all reason.

Courfeyrac had experienced very mixed feelings this year. Maybe because this was the last time he would have to go through this, but his real fears were only just beginning. It was his baby sister's first year, and the same fate was upon the little girl Clara had brought home just two years ago, whom Courfeyrac had grown to love as much as any of his siblings he had devoted his life to caring for.

For the first time, everything Courfeyrac loved was on the line, and there was nothing he could to protect it.

'Wake up, my darling.'

Enjolras' mother always woke him up on this day, and it was something even Enjolras Sr could more or less understand. Enjolras could never hide from his mother how scared the prospect of this day made him, but she never said anything. The only thing she could do was offer silent sympathy and support, and pray with countless other mothers their baby would be spared from this terrible fate.

Enjolras went down to breakfast where his father was sitting at the head of the table as he always did. However the atmosphere that morning was not a normal one, but not for the reason you might expect. Enjolras Sr was staring at his son with eyes full of fire and anger, and Enjolras felt his father was interrogating him without asking any questions. Mr Oliver he also noticed looked terribly uncomfortable.

'Oliver,' grunted Enjolras Sr, 'Did you carry out the task I asked of you?'

Mr Oliver looked as if he wanted to be sick, his face was as pale as paper. 'I did, sir.'

'Good, that will be all.'

Mr Oliver bowed and exited the breakfast room.

'What was that about, father?'

'You'll find out soon enough. No Enjolras has the right to keep secrets from his family.'

Enjolras would realise only too painfully the implication of that statement in the future, but for now it was just another of his father's unusual tendencies. Enjolras Sr seemed to soften when he noticed his son wouldn't touch his breakfast.

'There now son, don't worry so. You have nothing to worry about, and by this afternoon, this whole nonsense will be over and done with.'

Enjolras thought again about the deal his father had made with President Snow, he was ashamed to the fact he had agreed to it, but he had his reasons. Despite being one year younger than Courfeyrac and technically entitled to one more after this day, this was Enjolras' final reaping.

'How do I look Clara?' Cosette asked the reflection in the mirror as she put on her best dress. Clara had made it for her last birthday. It wasn't the prettiest dress or of the best quality, but it contained all of Clara's love, and that was all Cosette had ever wanted.

'Stunning,' Clara replied. 'You both do,' she added, looking over at Posie, sitting on the edge of the bed, her youth accentuated by the image of her feet not even being able to touch the floor. She was playing with her plush twin bunnies she had had all her life, which she still slept with every night, on the condition neither Clara nor Cosette would ever tell the boys.

Cosette went over to the bed and sat down next to Posie, laying her arm around her sister's shoulders. The image almost caused Clara to break down in tears, but she knew she had to be strong for their sake. She bent down in front of them, taking both of their hands.

'I have something for both of you,' she whispered, as if it were the most precious secret the girls would ever have to keep. She brought out two necklaces, each with half a heart on it, with the two fitting together perfectly. She gave one to each frightened little girl.

'These will protect you, just as you protect each other, and I protect you.'

Both girls held onto their necklace tightly, and asked Clara to clasp them at the back, which she did for each in turn.

'Do you have one too, Clara?'

'No, but neither of you worry about that, I'll be fine.'

'Promise?' both girls said in unison.

Courfeyrac saw before him two of the finest young men ever to set foot in Panem. He was so proud of his brothers, of all his family if it came to that. He had known ever since Harry's first reaping, if ever their names were to be chosen from that hideous glass bowl, Courfeyrac would volunteer to take their place. Relief flooded through him when he thought of his secret, Harry and Freddie would never, as far as he could help it, be forced into that arena.

He could do nothing to protect Posie though, nor Clara or Cosette. Courfeyrac knew Clara would do the same thing for Posie and Cosette he would do for Harry and Freddie, but unlike his conclusion, this thought did not comfort him in the slightest. How could he live without Clara in his life? Her smile, her laugh, all the happiness she brought to the entire family. If he caused her to go into the arena, protecting his sister, he would have been better off leaving her in that forest all those years ago.

'Hey, we're all going to be alright lads,' Courfeyrac attempted to comfort, taking note of their disconsolate faces. There was a long uncomfortable pause.

'We're not though, are we?' Freddie spoke up.

'The odds are not in our favour,' Harry said acceptingly.

Courfeyrac couldn't deny that, but fortunately he was saved from answering by Posie bursting in with Cosette close behind her.

'Clara's gone!' she sobbed.

'Master Enjolras?' Mr Oliver said to the young man, 'There is someone here to see you.'

'Where is that flaming footman?' came in Enjolras Sr grumbling, 'Completely useless, that's what he is, and fired if this keeps happening.'

'Master Enjolras Senior,' Mr Oliver straightened up, 'Callum is preparing for the reaping in his own district, as are the rest of the young household staff.'

'Who the hell is Callum?' was his reply.

'Who is this visitor, Mr Oliver?' Enjolras quickly interjected, before Mr Oliver said something he might regret. Mr Oliver was particularly fond of young Callum you see, being from his own District 11.

'He's waiting in the hall, he says he can't stay long.'

'Lead the way,' Enjolras tried to get a smile from the old man, sadly, he failed.

When Enjolras got to the hall he saw his visitor was Benedict Mason, a 'friend' Enjolras had met in passing.

'Hello old chap, how you doing?'

'Could be better,' Enjolras replied truthfully.

'Well I bet this will cheer you up!' insisted Benedict with a smirk.

'What?' Enjolras said with no real interest.

'Guess who's going into the arena?'

'The reaping doesn't start for another hour yet,' Enjolras replied with a frown.

'Well no boy's going to be reaped this year,' Benedict told him, obviously very excited.

'What do you mean, Benedict?' Enjorlas asked tiredly.

'I'm volunteering. The family's dead proud.'

That took a while to sink in; Enjolras would not be going into the arena.

Courfeyrac passed the electric fence and ventured into the forest, knowing full well where Clara had gone. He had supposed something like this would happen, Clara had been herself in the weeks preceding the reaping.

Of course, she was as happy as ever when the children were around, even with Harry and Freddie. It was only with Courfeyrac she felt she could express how she was feeling. She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep, all she could do was think about how those two girls, who she loved more and more with everyday that passed, would be put in the kind of horrific danger that made her want to be sick.

Over the years Clara had become the mother of the family, and with that came the burden of a mother's protective instinct, surpassing all reason to do whatever she had do to keep them safe. Courfeyrac knew this feeling all too well. He was prepared to sacrifice his own life for either one of his brothers, or his sisters, if it would help them, for Courfeyrac knew if he went into the arena he would not be coming out.

It was true he was strong and broad, but the idea of ending another persons life, no matter who they were, brought such a pain to his chest he immediately had to dismiss it. And besides, even if he was killed, his family would still have Clara, and he trusted her with their lives, he trusted her with his.

He found her exactly where he thought he would. A small clearing deep in the forest, with dark green trees all around, where the wind created dancing shadows, and the sun penetrated through gaps in the leaves to reveal a glistening lake. A pond really, but the word didn't seem poetic enough to describe the beauty of the scene. They had found this clearing one day when they were out hunting, which as of late had been the only time they had to spend together. It was only in the forest they felt they were free, and was the time they told each other everything. They had no secrets from each other, but these secrets were never spoken beyond the electric fence, out of respect for each other and out of a sense of privacy they felt they couldn't revoke.

Clara was sitting down with her back up against a tree, completely unaware of Courfeyrac's appearance. Courfeyrac took note of how beautiful she looked. She was in a black dress with a brown belt, her hair was as always falling around her face, but Courfeyrac noticed a hairclip not fulfilling its purpose buried within it. The silver 'C' necklace he had given to her years ago hung around her neck as it always did. She treasured that necklace, it was the first time Courfeyrac had told her she was a part of his family, and she would treasure that memory, and the necklace, forever.

Courfeyrac slowly approached her, and Clara looked up at him with the same eyes she had all those years ago, in their first meeting in the forest.

'I'm so scared,' she whispered.

'Me too,' Courfeyrac replied truthfully. 'But it's not going to solve anything sitting here all day is it?'

'It could do.'

'What do you mean?'

'We could run away,' Clara said, with no hint of laughter. But Courfeyrac couldn't hide his. He scoffed.

'Oh yeah, and run off until we find our perfect land of happiness, with liberty and friendship.'

'What?' Clara said amused.

Courfeyrac looked embarrassed, 'That's something Enjolras used to say, when we were boys.'

'You're still boys,' Clara said.

'We can't be, you know that better than anyone.'

'I wish I could feel that, as soon as it was over, all my worries will be gone. But they won't. There's still next year, and the year after that, and even if I do volunteer for them one year there's no guarantee…'

'You….you'd volunteer for them?'

'Of course, isn't that your master plan?' Clara tried to joke.

Courfeyrac had always known this about Clara in his heart, but to hear it out loud, to actually comprehend it, was intensely painful. He had thought to know Posie would be safe would be a huge weight off his mind, and it was, but it was replaced by an equally terrifying worry of losing Clara, his hunting partner, his best friend. His sister.

'Your right,' Clara interrupted his thoughts.

'About what?'

'Sitting here won't achieve anything. And we've got that lot back at home. They need us, both of us.'

'Yeah, they do.'

Courfeyrac stood up, and offered Clara his hand. 'May I escort you home?'

Clara took it gratefully, and they went home, to spend their last moments together as a family.

On their way home they passed a run down old house, but for District 12, it wasn't too bad. It was the home of the school's headmistress, who received a reasonable salary for her teaching, even if it was Capitol propaganda. She was a widow with a sixteen-year-old son, who on this day was getting ready for the reaping.

She watched as he leant against the wall, looking out of the window, wishing there was something she could do for him, but like so many other mothers on that day, she could do nothing but look at her son, and she could have done so until the end of time. She would never tire of her son's curly black hair, dark eyes and the way he held himself as if he were the richest and proudest man in Panem, but it wasn't out of conceit, it was out of pride for where he came from. He loved District 12, and he wasn't ashamed to say he wouldn't live anywhere else for all the gold under President Snow's bed.

Edwardo Grantaire was a quiet soul, seldom spoke unless spoken to, and preferred to sit with his mother helping her arrange classes, than go down to the tavern to meet friends. Grantaire's father had been an especially big fan of the Thénardier's tavern, going there almost every night, drinking himself into a stupor and then stumbling home expecting his wife to look after him. Grantaire knew he used to hit her, but he had only been a boy then, and far too scared and confused to come to her aid.

When he grew old enough to understand he would ask, 'Why do you stay with him, mother? Why did you marry him?' And she would reply, 'Because we can't help who we fall in love with.'

Mr Grantaire had been dead for almost three years now. He and some other drunkards from the tavern had picked a fight with a particularly riley peacekeeper, and after calling for backup, the peace-keeping force beat him to death. Grantaire had no particular hatred for the regime, he felt his father deserved it, he was well out of their lives. His mother however did not feel the same way, but she hid her grief from her son, and expressed it in other, more private ways.

Suddenly, Grantaire's serene view of the street was interrupted by two people, holding hands, walking down it. It was of one of these two passers-by, that Grantaire took particular notice. He recognised them, it was Courfeyrac and Clara from a few streets down. He had often seen them and their younger siblings around 12, and had just as often envied how happy they looked. Of course, he loved his mother, and wouldn't want to live anywhere else, but he had always yearned for a brother or a sister, someone he could play with, someone he could talk to, so life wouldn't be quite so lonely.

The old grandfather clock passed down to them from Mrs Grantaire's father warned them it was twenty to eleven, twenty minutes until the reaping started, and families were already starting to leave their houses.

Strangely, it was Courfeyrac and Clara who Grantaire was thinking about as he kissed his mother goodbye and made his way to the town square. His mother had heard that all six of them would be in the reaping this year.

Neither Grantaire nor his mother could imagine what they must be going through, it took all the willpower of Mrs Grantaire not to take her son and hide him away so that no one could ever hurt him, so that he would never be taken from her.

She was such a fragile thing, who knows what losing her pride and joy might do to her.