Archive of Our Own

“Émile, Antoine slow down, please!”, Cosette was seldom one to raise her voice, but right now she was chasing after two rowdy kids, while the third one was shouting from her room, where her favorite coat had vanished. Well sometimes her little troublemakers were making it hard, not to. She finally caught on to her oldest son, lifting him up in the air and scolding him in a mocking tone.
“What did I tell you about running in the house?”, she asked amused at how he was not looking the least bit guilty.
“I should refrain from it or I could fall… But Maman it’s snowing! It’s finally snowing!”, the excitement in his voice made her smile and she ruffled his light brown curls setting him down on the ground again. Émile was practically jumping up and down at this point and she couldn’t help but grin at him, wondering where all this energy came from. Her eldest son had soon proven to be a small hurricane of chaos, always looking for fun and entertainment. At the same time, he brought laughter into every situation, something that was more than needed in their household sometimes. He had brought constant sunshine back into their lives after a long period of grey skies.

“I know, Émile but you need to wait for your sister and your brother. Oh, where has he vanished now?", he didn’t answer only shrugged and went to search for his shoes.
She got up, evened the wrinkles in her dress sighing. They had decided to spend the day in the garden, celebrating that Marius had gotten home from a work-related journey. But she had forgotten how excited the kids always got, especially when facing the first snow of the year.
It had been snowing for the last three days and now their garden was covered in an untouched blanket of snow. Well, it wouldn't be untouched for long.

“Where is Émile? He promised me to build a snowman with me!”, Cosette almost jumped, when she heard Antoine’s voice behind her. She should stop getting lost in her thoughts so easily.
“He’s getting ready, just as you should. Where have you been?”
“I just brought Papa's book back into his study, you know the one with the stories about the cruel king. He read it to me and I kept it to look at the pictures!” Cosette rolled her eyes, she definitely needed to have a word with her husband about suitable bedtime stories. She usually kept to fairytales, which, if she considered it, weren't really less brutal. On the other hand, when he had been small Antoine had fallen asleep listening to Marius read Plato’s “Politeia” in ancient Greek. So maybe, he should keep it up with the heavy literature.

“Good, you can choose a new one later, but for now, go and put on your coat! I’ll go find your sister.”, she sent him away, to where Émile was already waiting in a pile of shoes and winter clothing.
Cosette didn’t even have to climb the steep stairs to the upper floor completely, as she was met by her daughter halfway.
“I found my coat!”, she exclaimed excitedly, practically jumping into her mother's arms. “Ah Éponine my love! Then we are good to go. Your father should be home soon.”
“Finally! I missed him!”, Cosette wondered where her daughter had learned that pout.

*
It was freezing outside so Cosette kept on the windless porch, watching her kids play in the snow. Éponine was sitting under a tree trying to form small snowballs and stack them atop each other for a small snowman.
The determined frown on her face reminded Cosette of that little girl she had known such a long time ago. While they didn't look much alike, sometimes she felt like she caught that glimmer in her eyes. A girl who knew her way around.
The two boys had completely forgotten about the snowman they had wanted to build and had started a snowball fight. Although it was more the two of them shoving each other into the snow in a rather amusing fashion. Antoine, while being the younger one, fought with all his heart, basically jumping onto his older brother’s back, laughing and shouting something incoherent.

“One day Antoine is going to scream “Vive la revolution” and we are going to be very glad, that we live out of the city.”, a calm voice startled Cosette. She hadn’t even heard Marius approach. Smiling Cosette turned around and greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek. “You are late.”
She watched the blush spread across his cheeks, which could only mean one thing.
“I know, I am sorry, but I got a bit lost in the city. I never knew how to navigate Paris.”
She chuckled. “Will you ever learn? But I am glad you finally came home.”
Marius sighed, pulling her to his chest. “It has only been a week. I am truly sorry, but I won’t have to go away until late spring and by that time you will be happy to have me out of your hair.”

“Never.” He kissed her temple and she leaned into the touch. She would never let him go, not after all it had taken to finally find him. After everything in her life, she cherished this quiet, she cherished him.
They stood there in silence watching their children play with each other. Cosette could basically feel the melancholia radiating from her husband and a small look confirmed it. While he was still smiling his eyes looked lost, remembering the days long gone. She took his cold hand in hers, squeezing it gently.
“You see them, don’t you? It’s not only me. I mean, I have never met the two men, but Éponine. She reminds me so much of her. Sometimes it…”, she didn’t finish the sentence.
“Yes, I do. Sometimes in the way they talk. It makes no sense and I might just be projecting, but they remind me of them. And I am glad, I guess.”
Back then after the barricade, he had gone to all of their parent's houses, bearing the news. It had felt like the right thing to do. He had learned so much more about those men, who had died for a better world. And, despite never being a real part of them, he had felt like he had finally understood them.
After weeks of going to all those corners of the land, to big mansions and small dingy hovels, he had collected all the things he had never known before.
In the end, what was there to do?
Remembrance was impossible, so he did what he could.
Telling his sons about their godfathers, who died for a better tomorrow. About the man, who had helped him in his darkest times, who had turned into his first true and best friend. And he had told about the leader. This charismatic man, who had been born to be something great, but had just been born at the wrong time.

In his study lay the letters from them, full of optimism and hope. He sometimes read them to his children.

Paris, June 1st 1832

From: Antoine Enjolras
To: Émile de Courfeyrac