No Fear, No Regret

 In, out. In, out. Cosette focused her mind on one long, slow breath after another. She felt like she was suffocating. She hated this apartment. It was dull and dank and miserable. She sat in the corner by the window, moonlight casting a ray of light over her pale face. Her hands were clenched in her lap. They were trembling. She drew up a fold of her skirt to hide them from her Papa. He sat by the fire, going through a stack of crumpled old papers. His face was gaunt and gray in the firelight.

The barricades weren’t far away. Every so often, she could hear a gunshot or a cannon fire, echoing through the night. Every sound seemed to go straight through her. She flinched with every explosion.

And suddenly footsteps were heard on the stairs… quick and light. They were barely there, almost like the footsteps of a ghost. And then a knock at the door. Valjean glanced towards the door in alarm, starting up from his chair. But Cosette was already there.

“I’ll get it, Papa,” she spoke, her voice calm, yet with a slight tremor. He shook his head, his lips parting to speak a warning, but she had already lifted the latch.

A little boy stood in the hallway… a ragged street urchin, with dirty and tangled blond hair falling into his eyes. He held out a folded slip of paper in a bony hand. The paper was crumpled, sooty, and… stained with blood. Cosette shuddered.

“Oui?” she murmured, her fingers aching to reach out and snatch the paper. Somehow, it looked familiar.

“Letter for Cosette,” he chirped out.

“I’m Cosette,” she murmured, her voice catching. Her heart was already beating his name… Marius… Marius… news from Marius… She slipped a coin from her pocket and held it out. The urchin grinned, showing surprisingly straight white teeth, and his other hand darted out to snatch the coin while he pressed the letter towards her.

“Something for you, something for me,” he laughed. “Who needs charity?” And he was gone, vanishing like a shadow into the darkness. 

Cosette didn’t bother to go back into the room yet. She stood in the hallway, staring at the paper in her hand… staring at her own handwriting in confusion. It was the letter she had sent to Marius… she unfolded it quickly, noting at once a smudged pencil scrawl on the other side.

Dearest Cosette,

You have entered my soul… and soon you will be gone. Can it be only a day since we met and the world was reborn? If I should fall in the battle to come… let this be my goodbye. Now that I know you love me as well, it is harder to die. I pray that God will bring me home to be with you. Pray for your Marius, he prays for you.

“He’s at the barricades,” she murmured weakly. The realization came to her in a dull sort of haze. She read the letter again… two, three times before she actually heard her father calling to her…

“Cosette! Inside, quickly… shut the door.” 

She obeyed, her fingers numb as she bolted the door back in place. He was standing just behind her, his eyes filled with concern.

“Who was it?”

“A… a little gamin,” she faltered, hiding the slip of paper in the folds of her skirt. “He… I gave him a coin…” 

This seemed to satisfy him and he nodded slowly. 

“It is late,” he said curtly, his eyes darting from the door to the window. “We should both get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Papa, please…” she murmured, her lips automatically forming her protest. She had begged him so hard. “I don’t want to go. I can’t go.”

“You can and you will,” he spoke harshly, but as he looked at her, his eyes softened. His shoulders slumped a little, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Cosette. It’s… it’s better this way. Once we get to England, you will feel better about it. You’ll like it there, I’m sure. It will be a better life for us. Safer.”

She nodded, only because she was tired of arguing. It didn’t matter anyway… her mind was already made up. She hadn’t even thought about it… the idea had flown swiftly into her mind and she let it stay there. If she once thought about it, she would frighten herself into backing out.

“Let me get your things for you, Papa,” she spoke resignedly, her eyes on the floor. He smiled sadly. It was one of those little things that she always had loved doing for him… fetching his dressing gown, slippers, and pipe… but she didn’t mean to do it as a gesture of love, not this night. She needed to get into his trunk. 

“Dearest Cosette,” he whispered and pulled her close, folding her in his embrace and letting his cheek rest on the golden head once more, as he had done a thousand times before. “I never deserved you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. She was glad when he let go. If he held her a second longer, her resolve would falter, and she would break down into tears. She didn’t want to deceive him… but if he knew what she meant to do, he would put an end to it so quickly…

She went into his room, pulling out his things quickly… and at the same time taking a plain linen shirt, a pair of trousers, a simple woolen coat of dark grey, and a black cap. She bundled these up, tucking them under her arm, and went back to the main room, trying to appear nonchalant as she handed him the promised dressing gown and slippers.

“Good night, Papa,” she said demurely, and turned to slip into her own tiny room. She shed her gown and petticoats quickly. Taking one of the cotton petticoats, she shredded it into strips of fabric and used them to bind her chest. Satisfied in that it hid her figure, she dressed quickly in the unfamiliar men’s clothing that was much too big for her. She tucked the shirt into the trousers and used a scarf as a sash to tighten them around her waist. She was glad the coat was big… it hid her slight female form even more. She had to resign herself to her own boots… at least they were sturdy and not overtly feminine. She tucked the trousers into them to keep them from dragging in the mud. She twisted her hair up on her head and smashed the cap over it. Surely she looked ridiculous, but she hardly cared. She had to get to Marius… and she could hardly go as a woman. 

oOo

It had been easier than she had thought to get behind the barricade. Dressed as she was, she looked little more than a young boy. She slipped between the cramped buildings in the dirty Paris streets, right under the noses of the soldiers. 

“You there, boy!” A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she barely stifled a cry of surprise, whirling to face the man who had spoken. He towered above her, his eyes wild and terrifyingly alive. He wore a blood-red coat and gripped a musket in one hand. “What are you doing?” 

“I… I’m looking for someone, monsieur,” she barely whispered the words. She was trembling all over, like a leaf in the wind. 

“Whose side are you on?” his voice was accusatory and demanding. She shrank away from him.

“I’m for the revolution,” she murmured. 

“Speak up, citizen!” he reached down to grip her wrist, his eyes narrowing. She swallowed hard, trying to scrape up her courage. She dimly recognized him… he was one of the students. A leader of sorts. She had seen him speaking once or twice before, in front of the home of General LaMarque. She didn’t know his name, but his was not a face she could forget, not with that look in his eyes, and that wild mane of golden curls. “Are you a spy?” his grip tightened. “We’ve dealt with one spy already tonight.”

“No… no, monsieur…” she cleared her throat and tried to make her voice louder. “I… I’m just looking for my friend… I… I’m not a spy…” she faltered. She certainly didn’t sound convincing. But his grip suddenly loosened and he leaned down towards her. He took her chin in his hand, not ungently, and tilted her face towards his.

“No,” he whispered. “You’re not a spy. Not a boy either, are you?” he lifted his hand as if to pull the cap from her head, but he stopped, dropping his hand to his side. “Get out of here, mademoiselle. While there’s still time.”

She ducked away from him, meaning to pretend to go… but he seemed to have forgotten her already as he turned back to the circle of young men who sat behind the barricade. The fighting seemed to have died down for the night, although every so often a cannon boomed harmlessly into the dark… a warning to the revolutionaries. 

And there was Marius, his back to her as he adjusted the ramshackle bits of furniture that made up the flimsy barrier that was the only protection between these few reckless young men and the entire national guard. The man who had just spoken to Cosette… the leader… went to Marius and lay a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Marius,” he said quietly. “Rest.” 

Cosette trembled all over as she sank to the cobblestones, leaning against the wall of the Musain cafe. No one seemed to notice her. She wanted to run to Marius, to throw herself into his arms and feel safe and protected and loved… but she couldn’t. Not yet. For now, she would simply sit and wait… and when she saw her opportunity clear, she would go to him, and she would take him far, far away from this terrible place with all its ghosts of dead hope and doomed dreams.

“Drink with me… to days gone by…” a lone voice suddenly rang out through the stillness, low and rich and choked with emotion. Cosette looked to the singer, a young man she didn’t recognize. He sat with his head bowed, a half-empty wine bottle clutched in his hand. “To the life that used to be,” he went on, singing a simple folk melody. “At the shrine of friendship never say die, let the wine of friendship never run dry… here’s to you… and here’s to me…”

Some of the others softly sang along. They glanced at each other, their eyes sad… as if they already knew. A few reached out, resting hands on each other’s shoulders, silently comforting and encouraging each other. They trailed off again, and the lone singer continued. He turned, looking almost accusingly at the golden-haired leader, his eyes angry and defiant at first… and then sad and hopeless.

“Drink with me to days gone by! Can it be you fear to die? Will the world remember you when you fall? Can it be your death means nothing at all? Is your life just one more lie?”

The notes faded away on the evening breeze. All was silent, save the distant tread of the soldiers and the occasional boom of the cannon. One young man stood guard, and the others drifted off into troubled sleep, one by one. Cosette crept from her corner where she had crouched for more than an hour by now. She stole her silent way across the brief expanse of cobblestones to Marius’ side. He lay against the barricade fast asleep, his face pale, streaked with grime and tears. 

“Dear God on high,” she murmured her prayer brokenly, her fingers cold and trembling as she reached out to touch his forehead. “Hear my prayer… please… bring him home… let him live… give him strength… give me strength…”

And yet before she could even whisper an “amen”, she was lifted to her feet. She glanced up warily to meet the fierce gaze of the leader. 

“You’re still here,” he hissed, his eyes flashing angrily. “I told you to leave. We’ve already had one young woman die tonight, I’ll not have another.” He was pulling her with him, and she had no choice but to go along. “You’re unarmed, inexperienced… you don’t stand a chance.” 

She pulled back stubbornly, digging her heels into the grooves of the cobblestones. She wouldn’t go, she wouldn’t leave Marius… but the leader only sighed and shook his head. Reaching down, he lifted her effortlessly, draping her over his shoulder as if she was a sack of feed. He carried her to the building across from the barricade and set her down inside the door. A few women stepped forward, questions in their eyes.

“Make sure she stays safe,” he ordered briefly, letting his eyes linger on her face for a moment. “You’re Marius’ Cosette, aren’t you. Stay alive.” And he was gone again. Cosette let the women pull her back into the relative safety of the cramped little apartment. When the sun had risen, and the battle had begun… then she could go to Marius. She would wait… and she would pray.

oOo

It was worse than anything she had ever dared to imagine. Bullets fell like rain. The air was thick and black with evil-smelling smoke. Cosette was standing in the doorway of the tenement building where she had passed a sleepless night, digging her nails into her palms until they bled. She couldn’t see Marius. 

The women were calling to her to get back. At first they had tried to drag her away, but they were too afraid now to get that close to the battle. They were huddling somewhere far back from the door… and there she stood, alone and unprotected, her eyes darting back and forth as she searched desperately for the man she loved. 

Every time a body tumbled lifelessly from the barricade, she cried out in agony. She felt every death in the core of her being, even though she didn’t know their names. All she could think of was what if it had been Marius? And her heart bled for them. It was a long, long time before she saw him… and when she did see him, he too was falling from the barricade.

Abandoning caution to the wind, she ran forward into the middle of the battle, hearing bullets whiz by over her head. She tripped over a lifeless form and fell to her knees on the hard cobblestones, feeling sharp pain in her knees and palms, tasting blood where she had bitten her cheek. She was up again and running before she even realized she had fallen. She was by Marius’ side now… she had no time to think, she had only to act. Fear gave her strength. She cried out again… this time in desperate prayer… but she had no eloquent words to pray… nothing but a plea for help, for mercy, over and over again.

She hooked her hands under his arms, dragging him back from the line of fire, step by agonizing step. A bullet went through her cap and carried it far away. Golden hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She pulled harder at Marius’ limp body, every muscle in her body screaming in protest. She couldn’t do it… she wasn’t strong enough… but she must do it… she had no choice…

There was nowhere to go. Nowhere safe. Forward or backward, there were only bullets and dead ends. The sky seemed to be raining death. Cosette was backed into a corner… a frightened, broken little bird. She sank to the ground, clutching Marius’ bloody head against her heart, and she wept aloud. She couldn’t get out. But if she must die… at least she would die here, with Marius.

It happened so quickly that she scarcely had time to process it. Someone grabbed her arm, shouting orders over the roar of gunfire, words that she could scarcely understand. He was dragging both of them together towards an opening in the pavement.

“Down here… get out of sight!” he shouted and Cosette wavered in terror. The sewers. He meant to go through the sewers. She flashed a terrified look at the face of the man who loomed above her. She didn’t know his name. But she recognized him from the night before. He was dark and unkempt, his breath reeking of wine… but somehow he didn’t seem drunk. He was dragging the cover back from the opening to the sewers, pushing her down through it before she could even protest. And she didn’t try to fight him. Somehow, she knew it was the only way. And then he was shoving Marius’ body through the hole… and the cover was pushed over the hole again, cutting out most of the sunlight. 

Cosette landed on her hands and knees in six inches of filthy, foul-smelling slime. Marius fell face-down. She dragged him up, his weight too much for her. She managed only to bring him to a sitting position. It was dark down there, and nearly silent. The roar of battle seemed far, far away. She felt as if she were in the grave already and she shuddered. She didn’t know where to go or how to get out of here… and Marius was heavy… so heavy… but there was nothing to do but go forward. And she must drag him every step of the way, all through these filthy, stinking sewers. 

“God, hear my prayer…” she breathed through clenched teeth. Somehow, here in this miserable hole… she suddenly felt hope. Strength. It was time for her to fight her own battle now. And she meant to be victorious.