A/N: And back to the city of glass...
You are probably going to be cross with me. I faithfully intended to go back to the Musain in this chapter, to catch up on Eponine and Les Amis in the second part of the chapter. However, when I was done with the first part of the chapter, it was already as long as any of the previous chapters, so for good measure and symmetry's sake, I left it as it was. Marius and Cosette wanted some screen time, and the conversation between Valjean and Marius also needed taking care of...
Hence, it's a Rue Plumet only chapter. However, I can tell you that the next chapter is about two thirds written, so you may expect it soon, tomorrow or monday latest, and that WILL go back to the Musain.
Thanks to MidniteMasquerade, who reviewed, and to everyone else, who read, favved or whatever. I would appreciate a word on how you like this new chapter of mine.
Thanks again to judybear236 for comments
Chapter 6: Stolen moments of calm
"Only those, whose lives are brief, can imagine that love is eternal"
Marius Pontmercy had never been one to wage a war with words. His upbringing, his learning, his aspired profession – the law – required a certain proficiency with the finer nuances of speeches and rhetoric, and he had complied, learning as much as he could and applying it wherever opportunity presented itself.
And yet, at times, he felt himself fully at loss as to how to convey in words, what he wanted to express, as if his ability for catching speech were linked to certain, well-trained situations such as social calls or university work. Times of panic, however, were a completely different thing.
Despite his initial question, Fauchelevent had not immediately given him the opportunity to explain himself. While the presumed attacker had left the street before the house, there was no telling where he had gone, or whether the immediate danger was over.
And thus, it was only when they had entered the mansion, barred the door, made sure, that no one would enter by either front or back door or window, and retreated to a room in the rear part of the house, that had no direct view to the street, that Marius was given another chance at conversing with the father of the woman, that had quickly become what was left of his life.
While Fauchelevent saw to the barring of the house, Cosette tended to the wound on Marius' arm.
For a brief instant, everything was calm. And Marius, all of a sudden, became aware of the situation he was in. Sitting in a small salon, safe from any attempts on his life for now, he was alone with Cosette, and silence stood between them quivering like a frightened animal waiting to run.
"I…", Cosette began, softly, uncertainly, not meeting his eye. "Should I take… care of the wound?"
She was twisting a linen bandage in her hand, outward sign of her uncertainty, and Marius hesitated for a moment, caught between poles. The shot wound was pounding uncomfortably, but not unbearably so, but on the other hand, to have it soothed… to have it soothed by her… was almost too good to turn down. And yet, he would not want to impose, would not want for her to think him weak.
Torn, he gazed at his beloved, who chose this very instant to throw a quick glance herself, and for the fraction of a heartbeat, Marius could see the same notion warring in her eyes. And felt unable to look away. Seconds passed, as her blue eyes held his, in a flash of eternity that was a moment out of time and space, a stolen gem in the whirlwind he was caught in.
The world in her eyes belied a life full of promise – if he could only believe in it.
Softly, wordlessly, he nodded. He would not have trusted his voice in this moment and if his life depended on it.
He could see her swallow, hard, before she stepped up to him, carefully going to her knees beside the chair that he sat in. From within the linen bandage, she produced small scissors that in a previous life probably had been used for sewing purposes.
"I will just…", she began, uncertainly, "cut… the cloth a bit…"
Her touch on his arm was like the kiss of a feather, light and tender, and yet, the warmth of her fingers seemed to burn through his light shirt, seemed cool and hot at the same time, soothing unsettling in equal measures.
He held his breath and her fingers were trembling.
And yet, she was very skillful, as she freed the wound from the torn remnants of the cloth around, cutting carefully, hardly touching his skin, and when she removed fabric from the open part itself, she was so very tender, that he hardly could feel the pain.
"I hope, I'm not…", she began, and he answered, "No!" in a rush of breath before she could even finish the question, his heart beating in his throat, only enhancing his nervousness. She looked up at this, slightly quizzically, a tiny frown appearing on her alabaster forehead, and he continued, much softer, though not much more composed, "No… not at all. Thank you…"
She smiled nervously and lowered her eyes again to watch what she was doing, finished her work quickly and methodically, in a silence he did not feel like breaking, because he feared it would chase the wonder away that they were sharing.
"Hold your arm like this…", she said, a breathless eternity later, when she was satisfied with what she had done, moving her own, slender arm slightly away from her body, and he complied, allowing her to start wrapping a bandage around his arm. In the silence of the room, he could feel the warmth radiating from her, as she snaked her arms around his wounded one to move the bandage around, and around, and around, and his skin was itching with the closeness of her.
And then she was finished, just when they heard the heavy steps of her father on the staircase, and she got up quickly to sit on her own chair, half across the room, gaze lowered again.
Marius had only very few moments to compose himself, before Fauchelevent entered the room again, throwing a suspicious gaze to him, before seating himself between Marius and Cosette.
"Well." He said.
"Monsieur, I…", Marius started, without even having an inclination on how on earth he should finish that sentence, but Fauchelevent interrupted him, squinted and frowned.
"I know your face", he said. "From the Jardin du Luxembourg. Don't I?"
Marius could only nod, mutely.
"You have been watching us." Whatever Fauchelevent's statement before had been, this definitely was no question, and the tone that accompanied it, was dangerous. And again, Marius nodded. There was no use lying, and any attempt at this would probably make a difficult situation much worse.
"Monsieur", he began again, struggling for some sense of coherency. "I apologize for thus intruding on you, but…"
"I let him in, Papa."
Cosette had found her voice, together with her courage, at the most convenient moment, and this caused her father to whirl around to her.
"You did what?" He shook his head, as if he had heard something, that was fully and utterly unbelievable to him, and there was a certain amount of outrage in his voice.
Cosette almost flinched, but she held her ground and nodded, looking to the young student with kind eyes.
"Yes", she said, much more softly, so much more fondly. "I did." There was a world in her voice, an implication beyond what she was actually saying, that was visible to him, but hopefully lost on her father. He swallowed thickly, as his heart took up a new, erratic beat. And his voice, as he continued, was not quite as steady as he would have it.
"The decision to come here and the decision to enter your property was mine and mine alone." Marius would not let Cosette take the blame for his actions, however well-meant her words were. "And I have a great fear, that this decision was wrong. For this, I can only apologize in the most profound manner."
"Hm", Fauchelevent replied, noncommittally. "How so?"
Marius felt himself waver under the scrutiny of the one man he certainly had no intention of antagonizing. However, it was obviously too late for that. He should probably count himself lucky, that the man was willing to hear him out, at least.
"My name, to start with, is Marius Pontmercy", he began. "I… this morning, some friends of mine and myself, we were attacked by a person unknown to us, and it is only by chance, that none of us were wounded… none of us three at least…" He pointedly tried not to look towards Cosette, whose eyes had rounded in fear at this start of his tale. "In the aftermath of this incident", he continued, hesitating for only a tiny moment, "a friend of mine mentioned, that this man… had been seen before, exactly in front of this house. I was worried, and therefore decided to come here to see if he had done something here as well. I fear however, that in the end I have led him here, for which I apologize. Profoundly."
For a brief moment, thoughts of Eponine and her brave deed crossed his mind. There was really no telling, whether he would be even alive without her, and later, when this affair was sorted out, he would have to think of an adequate gesture towards her – but this was neither the time nor the place.
Fauchelevent's face was hard and unreadable.
"Much as your attempt at warning us, and also the apology are appreciated", he said, "it raises one or two questions, that you have skillfully avoided, Monsieur. But I cannot let you off the hook so easily. So, Marius Pontmercy, would you mind telling me how it came to pass that you have a friend who watches this particular house? And, while you are explaining that, would you also tell me what this house and its inhabitants are to you anyway?"
Marius swallowed, hard. That was indeed the question of it all. The answer would be so easy. It would explain his panicky and hectic flight to this place, would explain the watching, the worry, even his presence here and Cosette's notion of allowing him into the garden – which technically she had not even done – but could he really say this now already?
The odds were not in his favor. Even in the brightest light, he was currently a poor student – not penniless, but not very far from it as well – involved up to his neck in activities, that would, within the shortest of timeframes, either overthrow the government or – may god prevent this – bring them all into prison or beyond, and he had just led an assassin of sorts to the home of his beloved, be it with the best intentions.
All things considered, he could not bring the words over his lips.
Cosette, however, had no such reservations.
"I love him", she said, so very simply. "And he loves me."
That, at least, got the attention of her father. He tensed up immediately, looking at his daughter who was doing her best to return Fauchelevent's gaze. Marius' heart went out to the honesty and courage of his beloved. The genie was released from the bottle, there was no recapturing it. Now, they had to see to the consequences.
"Love", the old man echoed, incredulously. "Love…" He shook his head. "What a foolish notion."
Marius was unsure about how to continue this conversation. How did one deal with that sort of situations? Was this the opportunity to ask for Cosette's hand? Certainly not, after having just invaded the grounds of the family, and probably also not after knowing her for such a short time, and not knowing her father not at all.
And yet, the genie was released from its proverbial bottle, and Marius did not want to back off it, doing Cosette's admirably open statement dishonesty. He gathered what courage there was to be had and settled for a response that was as unambiguous, as it was careful.
"Perhaps it is foolish", Marius replied, softly. "But it is what it is."
Fauchelevent passed a weary hand over his face.
"I see", he said. "And how…"
But he never finished the sentence, however it may have sounded, because he was interrupted by footsteps, light, but hasty, coming from across the hall. He turned towards the door, where a middle-aged, slightly plump woman entered the room, excited red spots coloring her pale cheeks.
"Monsieur, Monsieur!"
She had a vibrating alto, a voice, that under normal circumstances would have a calming influence on any given situation, but her own excitement and nervousness was coloring it to her disadvantage.
Fauchelevent whirled around.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Monsieur, you told me to watch the gate from the upper story of the house, and I've seen four young men arriving, standing at the gate and asking for entry."
Marius jumped to his feet. Four? But before he could even react, Fauchelevent had grabbed his arm - the unharmed one, fortunately - with surprising strength and dragged him with him, through a corridor into another room on the other side of the building – a woman's bedroom, as he would only later, when reminiscing of this scene, realize. Cosette followed, a few steps behind.
The windows of the room were closed and hung with heavy drapes, leaving the room in a semi-lit stage, that allowed to discern only schemes and shapes, but Marius realized immediately the smell that seemed to hang on every item within this room, a fragrance, that was so utterly, inexplicably, and bewitchingly Cosette, that it made his step falter for a moment.
However, there was no time for such sentimentalities. Fauchelevent had stepped to a window and opened the hangings slightly to peer through.
What he saw, seemed to do nothing to alleviate his concerns, but he stepped aside to make room for Marius to take his own look.
Feeling tense and trapped, he complied, but what he saw at the gates of the house chased his fear away like the morning sun. He even laughed softly for a small moment, the relief was so deep.
"These are my friends", he said, fondness coloring his voice. Of course, they had come for him. They were like a family, at the end of the day. And even though he had strayed, they had not forgotten him. He recognized Feuilly, Lesgle and Joly, but the fourth of the group made him frown again.
He remembered the young man, if not his name. He had arrived in Paris only a few weeks prior and started to study law. Marius, together with Enjolras, Combeferre and Lesgle, had met him in a couple of lectures and been introduced to him by Jacques Morier, spokesman of the Cougourde of Aix and a fellow law student as well. He was a young man, looking as if he were a trifle indecisive between being shy and bold, with an air of a younger Jean Prouvaire about him, less dreamy, but in other areas certainly similar in character.
He had been trailing the Cougourde since the first day of his arrival in Paris, and Marius had never seen him separated from the whole group.
And glad as he was to see his friends, the presence of that particular young man put him slightly on edge.
Fauchelevent slowly turned to Marius, facing him in the semi-darkness of the room.
"I would say, that it would be unkind to have them waiting for you, Monsieur. I do not want to be unkind, but I think we have had what conversation is to be had at the moment."
Marius swallowed, but held his ground.
"Monsieur, what do you mean by that?"
Fauchelevent sighed again, sounding slightly weary and closing his eyes for a moment.
"What I mean, Monsieur, is that it has been a hectic and probably trying day for you, and that this has also affected Cosette and myself. You should go with your friends and rest. As for everything else, time will tell."
The lines of his face in the semi-darkness of the room seemed deeper, wearier than in the harsh light of day, and Marius could almost feel the sadness and worry radiating from the man. But maybe, Fauchelevent was right. Maybe this was an issue for another day.
Provided, always, there was one day more…