Revolutionary Fire

12. Red and Black

With a sigh, he turned back around and looked at me with pain in his eyes. Finally, he said, "No, I'm not your father. Your mother was my sister. How old are you?"

"Twenty-five," I replied.

"Then you must be the little child she had just had when I went to prison," he mused. "You're Madeleine."

"Blaisaline," I corrected, my head reeling. "Wait, so you're my uncle?"

"Yes," he replied with a smile. "I'm glad I've gotten to see you again after so long. I tried to find you all, but..."

"I wish I knew what had happened," I said sadly. "The earliest I remember is a vague memory of you and Mother, but I don't remember much else. Just faces. For so long I just thought that I was dreaming because I didn't like my parents, but...you're real."

"I'm sorry Mad-" he broke off, visibly cringing before correcting himself. "Blaisaline."

"Please, just Blaise," I insisted. "No one I care about calls me Blaisaline." He smiled, causing me to smile as well.

...........................................................................

A swirl of emotions whirled around inside of me as I stepped into the ABC Café. None of the members noticed me as they were busy pestering Marius. I shrank down into the corner of the café as some said, "Some wine and say what's going on!"

"A ghost you say, a ghost maybe. She was just like a ghost to me, one minute there, then she was gone," Marius said as I zoned out, not really listening.

"I am agog. I am aghast. Is Marius in love at last? I've never heard him 'ooh' and 'aah," Grantaire teased. Gesturing to where Apollo stood looking over a map, he added, "You talk of battles to be won, and here he comes like Don Juan It's better than an opera."

Growing irritated, Apollo sat down at their table and said, "It is time for us all to decide who we are. Do we fight for the right to a night at the opera now? Have you asked of yourselves what's the price you might pay? Is this simply a game for a rich young boy to play? The colors of the world are changing day by day."

Facing the group, he added, "Red: the blood of angry men! Black: the dark of ages past! Red: a world about to dawn! Black: the night that ends at last!" I had watched all of this with little interest, not particularly in the mood to care about Marius' love life.

"Had you seen her today you might know how it feels to be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight," Marius said, catching Apollo's arm as he got up to leave. Apollo rolled his eyes. "Had you been there today you might also have known how your world may be changed in just one burst of light and what was right seems wrong and what was wrong seems right."

"Red," Grantaire called, mocking Apollo's remarks from before.

"I feel my soul on fire."

"Black."

"My world if she's not there."

"Red."

"The color of desire."

"Black."

"The color of dispare."

"Marius, you're no longer a child," Enjolras snapped. "I do not doubt you mean it well but now there is a higher call. Who cares about your lonely soul? We strive towards a larger goal. Our little lives don't count at all!"

"Just because you're stuck in a loveless marriage doesn't mean we all have to be deprived of love," Marius snapped, causing my blood to run cold.

His expression hardening, Apollo snapped, "My relationship with Blaise is absolutely none of your concern or business." Lowering his voice, he warned, "Don't speak about my wife like that again."

"Back off the testosterone, boys," I said lazily, rolling my eyes and getting to my feet to stand between the two glaring daggers into one another. Apollo glanced over at me in surprise, not having noticing my coming in. As I came to stand by him, his arm wrapped around my waist and held me securely to him, catching me by surprise as he rarely showed affection in public.

"Listen everybody!"

Gavroche stepped towards the group, announcing, "General Lamarque is dead." My breath caught in my throat.

With a mixture of resignation and excitement, Enjolras said, "Lamarque! His death is the hour of fate, the people's man. His death is the sign we await!" Letting go of me to walk around and face everyone, he said, "On his funeral day, they will honour his name with the light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes. With their candles of grief, we will kindle our flame. On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricade rise!"

Before another word could be said, I rushed from the room and ran outside. Leaning over, I hurled. Wiping my mouth, I leaned back against the wall and attempted to calm my shaky breathing and trembling limbs. I turned to face the dark street. Rain had begun to pour down and wet my cheeks with its cold fingers.

Softly, I said, "If there's a god above, he'd let me die instead."