Fools Rush In {Mylene}

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Running. How Courfeyrac hated running. How he had gotten out of there, stumbling around in the darkness, he hardly knew. He did remember throwing some punches. And probably getting a few, too; he'd feel them tomorrow, even if he couldn't remember now with the adrenalin. He was glad at least that Mylene's ankle had healed from the parade, and had been just a sprain rather than a break, so that they could escape. He didn't think he could have carried her, not fast enough to get away anyway. He was going to remain haunted by the faces of those people... those horrible people. Though he would always retain faith in The People, as an entity, sometimes individuals concerned him. That was why one person shouldn't be in control of an entire country; the mass of people would have to come together so that the best opinion would be generally agreed upon and cooler heads would prevail.

Unfortunately, Courfeyrac did not exactly have a cool head at the moment. Normally, he was the one of the Amis to laugh and joke, and if he got impassioned about something, then he would even preface his angriest statements with “No offense.” His Amis hadn't been foolish enough to risk their lives though, not yet. They'd have their chance soon.

“Mylene!” He closed the door to the deserted cafe behind them after tugging her inside, looking at her with brown eyes wide. “What were ye thinkin', runnin' off someplace like that, all by yerself, in the pitch black, not thinkin' o' tellin' me?!” He kicked the ground in irritation. “Ah know ye dun have to tell the likes o' me where ye're goin all the time, Ah'm not yer keeper or nuthin', but Ah also knew – or at least Ah thought Ah knew – that ye weren't stupid!” He scoffed, turning on his heel and shaking his head, black curls bouncing, before looking back to her. “Ah 'ad to find out from that little gamin because 'e didn't listen an' 'e gave me your message early!”

Taking hold of his shoulders, he leaned in closer, calming down slightly. “Ah thought Ah might never see ya again,” he murmured, brows furrowing in concern before he gave her a heated kiss.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

[atrb=border,0,true] WHEN THE CIRCLING AND STRIKING ARE DONE AND I LAND LET ME COME BACK TO YOUR HAND, BACK TO YOUR HAND [style=height:340px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:00235E] Mylène hardly felt her feet or any part of her body as she was running through the dark streets of Paris towards the one place that she knew meant at least a little of safety and home: The Musain. It wasn’t good to not feel anything while running, and therefore she was glad for Courf dragging her on, just like she had dragged him onward after the May Parade escalated. Courf… that was one of the reasons while her brain had just stopped working and the numbness had taken over her body. Why was he even there? He didn’t belong into that picture! She had been there to finally find out something about Alain and then… Oh God, she had been so stupidm so foolish! Wasn’t it true that you could trust no one, and especially not a noble gonzesse?! She should have KNOWN that woman had tried to lead her on, she should have known that this all had been nothing but a cheap trick. She could be dead by now! And for such a foolish act she probably deserved to be dead! Alain had had to vanish for two years because of this woman, how could Mylène possibly believe she could hold anything against her – or that Falcon?! Like Alain, she had come between a rock and a hard place now, concerning those two titans clashing, and she was only still alive because… Courf. Christian Courfeyrac, whom she had been so stupid to write a letter of goodbye to! Another ice cold fist seemed to collide with her stomach as she realized how close he himself had come to be harmed. This was why she had not wanted him to know until it was too late! She had dragged too many people into this already, and he should. Not. Have. Been. There! He had a revolution to look after, he could not spend time and energy on her! She would kill that boy who had delivered the letter prematurely, oh how she would kill him!!! Gladly the café had had its day off today so there were no customers inside and the landlord and –lady must have gone to bed. When the door closed behind them, Mylène leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to regain her breath while black spots danced in front of her eyes. And then it started. With eyes widening and mouth half-open, Mylène listened to Courfeyrac’s rant, finding no words to interrupt him even though she desperately wanted to. her own anger at herself was still boiling hot inside her, as was the shame. She, the former little queen of the streets had been Had! And she had endangered Courf’s life with her own stupidity! Slowly, however, that anger was directed away from herself, and spilled over poor Courf’s head without him even knowing yet what kind of storm was brewing in front of him. When he suddenly kissed her, kissed her in such a kind of desperate passion she had never witnessed before, Mylène could not help but return the kiss for a moment, but then her anger kicked back in – and at full force! This was one of her natural reactions, when Mylène was angry or hurt, she did not retreat, she lashed out. With full force, she pushed against Courf’s chest to make him stumble away from her, then raised her hand and gave him the mightiest slap she could manage. “How dare ye go out after me and risk yer life?!” she exclaimed, her eyes spewing fire. “That man had a rapier for devil’s sake, he could have killed ye!!!” Her hands balling into fists, she was literally drumming them on his chest now. “This was my problem, mine alone, yer friends need ye for the barricades, dammit! I told that boy to deliver the letter late for a reason! What would they have done with ye arrested or even killed?!”

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Courf lost himself in the kiss, pressing her against the wall, aware of nothing but his blinding need for her. Not sexually, necessarily, but just... He wasn't used to being dependent on anyone besides his Amis. Grisettes came and went. But Mylene had been there too, his friend, on the sidelines. To think she could be dead or suffering at the hands of some lunatic now! It frightened him. He was frightened, too, of what would happen to him if she was lost. He would fight just as valiantly for France, but to fight for her as well was certainly extra incentive. Not that he needed any more.

It seemed that Mylene had plenty of fight in her left even after the exhaustion of running and failed hopes. Staggering away from her and looking back at her, glowering, as she shoved him, Courfeyrac tried to straighten up again but didn't have time before she walloped him in the face. It took him a moment to recover from that – the girl packed quite a punch – before he could speak again.

“Me?!” he repeated, still reeling from the stinging slap she had given him. He worked his jaw for a moment to make sure he could still open it to speak – Mylene probably would have preferred if he hadn't – and pressed his hand to his cheek, holding it there in shock. “'ow dare ye scold me fer sumthin' like tha'... My life is mine te risk, dun think ye can tell me what to do!”

He grabbed her hands to prevent her from hitting him anymore. His voice softened, momentarily, as he held her fast, getting rather tired of being struck. “Well, Ah went, an' there's no use hittin' me fer it now, b'cause it's over, an' we're both standin' here safe, an' God knows we wouldn't be if Ah 'adn't gone!” He didn't even want to think about what might have happened to her if he hadn't been there to knock over that bloody horrid nobleman and drag her off to safety.

“An' ye! Dun ye go talkin' to me about 'ow Ah would've wasted mah life before the barricades! Ye would've done the same thing if Ah 'adn't been there to save ye!” he pointed out. “Ye're important too, ye know.” After raising his voice once more in passion, he relented; he was breathing hard, chest heaving, from the rant. Though Mylene had not done for the cause the same thing that he had, she had still done much, rallying the boys, boosting morale, rescuing him from the violence at the parade. He wanted her to stay far away from the barricade, but he knew she wouldn't, and she would probably find a way to make herself useful there as well. “Te the Republic, an' te me.” He looked at her, panting. “Whether ye like it or not, i's true, an' hittin' me ain't gonna change it.”

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

[atrb=border,0,true] WHEN THE CIRCLING AND STRIKING ARE DONE AND I LAND LET ME COME BACK TO YOUR HAND, BACK TO YOUR HAND [style=height:340px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:00235E] That actually felt good for a moment, while her hand was burning and stinging, Mylène felt a moment of utter satisfaction as she saw Courf’s shocked face after she slapped him. He probably hadn’t known she could do it, he probably hadn’t thought she would dare! But that was Mylène La Coquine, she could very look out for herself, she needed nothing, needed no one, least of all him to come in and play her saviour! But her superiority was short-lived as she lost herself in her anger and he took advantage of it by grabbing her hands with a remarkable strong grip himself and holding them fast, throwing her words right back into her face. It made her livid, oh so livid. There he was, running around playing the big man, of course he had every right to do everything! “Oh how dare me indeed, a woman speaking up against a man!” she spat. “Ye are very well allowed te do anything, risk yer life and be the shinin’ heroes, but we women of course have te sit back and twiddle our thumbs, and when someone wrongs us, we let the men sort it out. Cause we’re oh so delicate! Hah!” He tried to reason with her next, and he always had been good at reasoning, just that it was lost to Mylène for now, she was not receptive to logic in this very moment. All she heard was that he said it was over, to which she could only shake her head firmly. “This is not o’er, Courf, not by far! I still have te get Alain out, I can’t leave him where that Falcon put him! Ye dun understand, an’ ye probably never will! Ye will tell me to stop searchin’ for him and to jus’ leave it be, but I can’t, I. can’t! Ye dun know wha’ he means te me! He’s like me father!” But then his last words finally hit home with her, and it felt like a shower of cold water being dropped on her. For a moment she just stood there, her eyes wide in shock and at a total loss of what to do. The anger was still there inside her, but now it had been souzed, and some kind of barrier had been erected. He thought she was important?! Had he really said that?! To the republic and… “te ye…!” she whispered, incredulously. She was important to him? He valued her?! Enough to throw his life on the line like he just had? No one… no one ever had even so much thought about risking his life for her, it was just not how things worked. Mylène had had her friends, but she had learned to live with rejection from her earliest childhood on, being the surplus mouth to feed, the faceless working child, the sore spot on the streets of Paris. Maybe her friends with the jugglers had cared for her, but when it came to matters of life and death, everyone always looked out for number one, and it was an accepted rule. Abruptly, Mylène turned away from Courf and pressed her forehead against the wall, her shoulder’s trembling, her fists clenching and unclenching as she desperately tried to swallow down the lump that closed off her throat and made her eyes burn.

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“Dammit, Mylene, get off yer blasted pedestal fer all o' five seconds, will ye? This doesn't 'ave anythin' to do with the fact tha' ye're a woman an' Ah'm a man. Ye could 'ave rescued yerself well enough by not getting' in trouble in the first place!” She could just as well have had the letter sent to Ponine, and those people, whoever they were, would have had hell to pay for messing with that gamine's friend, that was for certain. The only reason that it mattered why Courf was a man and Mylene a woman was because of the... feelings that they had for each other. Sure, those weren't the only reason why he had rushed to the garden after her to get her out of trouble. Mylene was still his friend even if she hadn't been his mistress. But how she had signed the letter--! God, it had made his heart break to know the woman he loved might die, and perhaps she loved him too. It would have been so beautiful and tragic, but she was right – they could still have their chance for such a fate at the barricades, not at some stupid garden party. He didn't know that they were going to die, but he didn't know anymore whether he could live as happily without her.

As Mylene continued to rant about how he couldn't understand her, Courf expelled his breath in exasperation. “Well, it'd be a lot easier for me te understand if ye didn't jus' tell me these things in letters while you're runnin' away!” he pointed out, throwing up his hands and releasing her own hands in the process. “Ah'm tryin', Mylene – this ain't easy fer me either, ye know! – an' all ye do is push me away! Literally...” He didn't expect her to commit to him, to anything, because he had never asked for that before, never wanted that before. He had told her not to fall in love with him. He still didn't want her to, the part of him that thought he was going to die. But whether or not what he felt for her, and she for him, was love, he still loved her as a person, even if not romantically, and he wanted at least to be her friend. He couldn't understand why she was so angry.

And then something changed, her countenance altering. “Yes,” he repeated slowly, softly. A sideways smile quirked his mouth. “Ye think Ah'd go runnin' in to danger fer some random grisette off the street?” He probably would, just because he was foolhardy and heroic like that at times, but... She would get the point. “We've been friends for a while now, an...” He trailed off as she pulled away, his face falling slightly. He swallowed. She'd always had a hard life, and she'd been through a lot, between Alain, and now not finding him, and getting into trouble...

He moved slowly closer, wrapping his arms around her from behind and holding her wrists, stroking up and down her arms soothingly. “Ye're alright,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her neck. “'s all gonna be alright, minou.” He didn't need to say anything, just held her and let her breathe for a moment, let her recover and try to process things.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

[atrb=border,0,true] WHEN THE CIRCLING AND STRIKING ARE DONE AND I LAND LET ME COME BACK TO YOUR HAND, BACK TO YOUR HAND [style=height:340px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:00235E] She and on a pedestal?! How dare he even say that! She was stating a freaking point here, a point that needed very much pointing out in all those boy’s delusions of grandeur! They wanted to change the world and yet they wouldn’t even change their freaking attitude! Egalité alright, but Fraternité clearly came first for them! It was a world of men, a world of brothers, and – Hmm… that actually didn’t belong here, did it? Maybe he was right, as infuriating as it was. She had had this challenge with him before, on friendly terms, and it was a touchy subject for her, so now she might be getting things mixed up. The whole point here was, after all, that he did not think her capable of handling herself, but fact was that she had been stupid, and she might just have been captured by these rogues who served under this Elise-woman. It went against everything she felt right now to actually feel grateful for his appearance, but in one other thing he was right: They had escaped it for now, and Mylène usually wasn’t one to keep settling on things in the past. No use in crying over spilt milk, carry on, like you always have. But how to carry on, that seemed to be the question here. Something was off, the easy nature of their friendship somehow dented for the moment, since something had sneaked its way between them. Commitment. They had tried to avoid that at all cost, but what greater commitment was there than risking one’s life for someone else? So now… what should she make of it? “Ye were the one tellin’ me not te get attached an’ tha’ is how ye thank me for it?” she threw at him, still sounding somewhat angry, but it was born more out of confusion now. “I din’ think ye’d be interested in me long an’ boring lifestory, hell, it’s in the past! I always live fer the present, an’ tha’ worked fine ‘til now!” Then again, clinging to Alain was not exactly living in the present, so that was maybe what had started this whole trouble. He had told her to let go, even his wife had moved on and out of Paris, leaving him. But Mylène had not, and the trouble she faced now was the price for it. Stupid, foolish and stupid! It was too much, simply too much, and she needed a moment. Mylène La Coquine never lost her countenance like that, she did not let anyone see under her skin! And she would. Not. Cry. It was not an option, not by any means! But just as she thought to get a grip on herself again, Courf’s arms wrapped around her gently. Her first impulse was to extricate herself, to inch away so he would not tear down the walls completely, but then she heard his voice like an echo in her mind, as he just had accused her: “an' all ye do is push me away! Literally...” and she knew she could not. She did not know what this was, just that it was dangerous for her countenance, but frankly with all the thoughts and raw feelings spinning around inside her she could not even muster the strength to push him away again. Mylène had been strong for too long, this latest setback might have been the straw to break her back. It was like someone having thrown a stone into a mirror, making the shards fly to the ground in disarray. She could not see herself anymore, only distorted and in pieces, and everything else around her was a black hole that threatened to pull her under. But there was Courf, and he held her close, telling her that it would be alright. She so wished to believe him, she really did. Slowly, as if drawn by a tight string, she turned around in his arms and then, impulsively, as if the string had snapped, she drew his face down and kissed him, hard, passionately, almost desperately.

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“Ah didn't ask for yer life story. Ye were jus' complainin' tha' Ah hadn't, tha' Ah didn't understand, so Ah figured it'd be the time to ask.” He said this in a voice that was calm and even, in spite of how excited she was getting. In spite of everything, he smiled, shaking his head. “Ah dun think anythin' about ye is boring, Mylene.” There was no point in trying to argue with her, not when she was like this. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over her forehead. He hated to break it to Mylene, but they were already close; even if not romantically, they were friends. They'd been acquaintances for a while now, her being his barmaid when all the boys were getting drinks and talking at the cafe. They had always had witty conversation, but now she was twisting his words.

When Mylene first turned around, Courf tensed a little, wondering if she was going to hit him again for some reason. There was no rational motivation for her to do so, but that had hardly stopped her before. When instead she kissed him, it was in a way that was also bruising, but he wasn't complaining. Clutching her closer, he returned the the kiss, one hand running down her side to hold the small of her back while the other cupped the base of her skull. He moved his lips against hers for another moment, mouth and hand greedy, before he broke the kiss, brushing his lips across the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder, breathing hard against her skin. “If ye 'ave sumthin' te say, there's another way to use yer lips,” he breathed in mild amusement, still holding her close as he nuzzled against her neck. “Jus' as long as ye dun use yer 'ands in any way tha's unpleasant fer me...”

He was not at all bothered by the kiss, but before things got more heated physically, he did want her to attempt to communicate what she was actually thinking. The whole bit about being a woman and not have rights was clearly a sidetrack. He had told her multiple times before that she was just as important to the republic as anyone, and that everyone would have a right to make their voice heard, equally. She remembered those conversations that they'd had, he was sure. When he was teasing, sometimes he sounded misogynistic, but their more serious conversations, surely she had understood him when he said the path of the future was just as much determined by her as by anyone. And sure, he tried to protect her from the barricades, but he did the same for Gavroche. True, he was a child, but that was besides the point; Courfeyrac would protect anyone who he didn't think was fully equipped to fight at the barricade, not because they were invalid or incapable, but simply because he didn't want them to die, and he knew that was a possibility. He'd taught Mylene how to shoot a gun; he hardly thought her incompetent.

“When we're uspet... sumtimes... we dun even know what we want, or wha' we're sayin',” he said gingerly, choosing his words carefully, and speaking with as much gentleness as he could muster. “Mebbe we just need a bit o' time to calm down before we talk?” And kissing wasn't going to help them “calm down,” that much was certain.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

[atrb=border,0,true] WHEN THE CIRCLING AND STRIKING ARE DONE AND I LAND LET ME COME BACK TO YOUR HAND, BACK TO YOUR HAND [style=height:340px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:00235E] How could he be so calm and collected in this situation, while she basically was bursting at the seam to rip his head off! This contrast made it seem like she was a tantrum-throwing child and he was the reasonable adult trying to calm her. Normally, that would have made her even angrier, to the point when she would be getting seriously violent against him, but somehow Courf managed a small miracle there: While he was calm, he did not appear condescending towards her, which usually came with that kind of attitude. And as such he was robbing her of any munition to fuel her anger with at this point, so that it slowly died down like a flash in the pan would. Still panting heavily from her half-shouting, she just stood there for a moment and tried to let his words sink in. “Te understand, ye probably do need two-thirds o’me lifestory, though”, she remarked with the hesitant, awkward smile of someone who didn’t quite trust the ground he was walking on, but was willing to try if it held for the moment. It was a peculiar thing to do, resort to kissing when you could think of no better outlet for the raw emotions inside yourself, but it seemed Courfeyrac, while he might have been surprised at first, was not complaining. She would not have known what kind of words could cover all her feelings at once, the despair, the anger, but right now more than anything the gratitude to have him there and her need to assure herself that he really was. It didn’t happen often that someone like Mylène could not find words, but with this man and the complicated situations they were stumbling in on a regular basis, this just seemed to become more frequent. It was true, there was a fine line between ire and love, since for both you required utmost passion. Her hands had been moving over his back, and now he broke away slightly, they were settling on his waist, as if reluctant to let go of him so soon. His comment made her chuckle breathlessly, her anger having somehow vanished completely during their kiss, and she gingerly lifted a hand to place it where she had slapped him, feeling the raw and heated skin underneath her fingertips. “That stung, eh?” she whispered with a teasing smile, her eyes still somewhat glistening. “’m sorry. Ne’er forget tha’ Minou has claws. An’ sumtimes she uses them without thinkin’.” Minou…she only now realized he had come up with another nickname for her, one of his own. Kitten… she somehow liked it. It was endearing, but not demeaning, since like she just had said, even little kittens could be ferocious. It certainly made her smile, even though she wondered what on earth it could mean that he suddenly had his own nickname for her. Probably,it meant nothing. She had nicknames for all of them after all. Courfeyrac’s words were cautious, it almost made him seem like he was walking on eggshells, trying not to alienate her, and it made Mylène furrow her brows in mild confusion for a moment. Had she really snapped that much? And did he mean they should postpone their talk to another time, did he want to break to her that he’d rather go? Had she done something wrong again? Roi d’enfer, Coquine!, she chided herself inwardly. Look wha’ he makes ye do! Yer second-guessin’ everythin’, tha’s not like ye. Get a grip, lass! “Ye dun have te treat me like a barrel o’ gunpowder, Courf”, she pointed out with a slight smile. “I’ve shot me bolt fer now, promise. Maybe we—“ She was suddenly interrupted by a deep, slumberous sounding voice from the top of the stairs, calling down: “Mylène? Is that you? I heard voices down here, is everything alright?” Clasping a hand over her mouth for a second in embarrassment, Mylène mouthed “The landlord…!” in Courf’s direction, then cleared her throat. “Excusez, Monsieur, I din’ want te wake ye. Everythin’s fine, I was jus’ about te go te me room. Bonne nuit!” Grabbing Courf’s hand she tugged at it to lead him towards the kitchen room, where the backstairs would bring them under the roof to her small room. “We can talk there unheard”, she muttered under her breath. “Tha’ is… if yer alrigh’ with us tryin’ te talk now.”

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“Only a little,” Courf lied, meeting her gaze when she came closer to him, noticing that her eyes still shone – with tears? “Ah was more surprised than anythin' else.” His expression softened as she apologized, adopting the nickname. “Oh, believe me, Ah'm not goin' to,” he replied with a wry smile, covering her hand with his own as she pressed it gently to his cheek. It made him wince slightly, but he didn't mind. He'd have to prepare himself for worse pain, though Mylene had certainly hit him quite hard. He hadn't really been thinking about the prospect of being run through or otherwise killed when he went to rescue Mylene; he hadn't been thinking much at all, he had just gone. He was certain that she hadn't been thinking either. But he had been planning the barricade for a long time now, and he knew the risks going into it.<p>

Courf raised his eyebrow when Mylene told him that he didn't have to treat her like a barrel of gunpowder. If only they had more of those! But he could only handle one Coquine. He opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly they heard another voice. He kept his hand on her hip for a moment, waiting with bated breath, scarcely making the noise to exhale. He gave a nod as Mylene communicated that it was just the landlord, waiting for her to resolve things with him before he followed her towards the kitchen room.<P>

Brows furrowing, he answered in a whisper, “ 'Course Ah am,” when she asked if he was alright talking now. That's what he had meant to do; he just didn't want to get hit again, but it seemed clear that Mylene had gotten whatever ferocity she needed to out of her system for the moment. He eased himself into a chair, drawing her onto his knee and looking up at her. “Wha's upset ye, hmm? Does it 'ave to do with me? Or is it jus' Alain?” Which she was taking out on him, apparently. He had a feeling that there was more to this than Mylene had revealed to him initially, as her outburst had taken her across the gamut of unrelated complaints.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

[atrb=border,0,true] WHEN THE CIRCLING AND STRIKING ARE DONE AND I LAND LET ME COME BACK TO YOUR HAND, BACK TO YOUR HAND [style=height:340px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:00235E] Courfeyrac’s confirmation that he wanted to talk lifted another huge load off Mylène’s heavy heart. Maybe she could set some things right again after all, maybe her outburst hadn’t shattered too much in their friendship. There was a reason for Mylène pushing people away and not letting them see beyond the walls she had build around herself with teasing and sharp wit, but Courfeyrac had somehow managed to siege these walls succesfully for some days now, and that with an intensity that frightened her. There were parts of her story that no one of her current friends knew, not even Eponine who had witnessed and been a part of her life for quite some time, but what had happened there had deemed much of her behaviour, so it sometimes surfaced. She was not as vain to think her story was unique, there were probably many souls in Paris and throughout France who had had similar lots in life – you only need to look at Feuilly for example! – and yet… it was a delicate matter for her. In silence, she led him up the narrow stairway, only dimly lit by two gas lamps, and at the end of it turned right towards a faded wooden door, pushing it open with one hand. The room was dominated by a low roof slope opposing the door under which an old bed stood, the room itself being roughly rectangular, with the longer part of it being the the roof slope. The shorter wall was sporting a small window, large enough to put your head through maybe. In the middle of the room, a thick dark wooden beam held up the roof structure. Right next to the door there was a small recess, giving the room a little extra space for a small table on which you could see a washbowl. The only other furniture was a rickety chair without backrest and a wooden crate, acting as a sidetable. It might have looked spartan, had there not been little personal items everywhere. To the wooden beam, a stretched, beautifully coloured and painted fan was pinned, the side tide table held a few hand-carved blossoms, a small bone flute, adorned with swirling carvings, and a strap of dark green, shimmering cloth that looked like it might be a cravat. To the short wall opposite the window, right next to the door, two iron hooks held a cloak and a green dress roughly the same colour of the cravat, but these were the only signs of clothes in the room, apart from an apron draped on the bed. Mylène took two quick steps inside, then turned with a hesitant smile, making a wide gesture. “Ye freeze in winter, and ye melt in summer, spring an’ autumn bein’ the only times ye can live under tha’ roof, but… I still feel like a princess sumtimes. Me own room…” As Courfeyrac settled down on the chair and drew her with her, she bit her lip, trying to sort out her feelings that still were tumbling topsy-turvy inside her head and heart. She gave a shaky sigh, running her hand through her hair, then looked at him. “I…dunno even where te begin. Wha’ ye witnessed there in the park, it was jus’ the end o’ a long story. And it was me fault it ended tha’ way. I was careless, I was stupid, naïve and whatnot. I trusted the wrong people, an’ I got involved in a mystery te big for me head. An’ all tha’ because I refused te let go of the one man tha’ raised me from the mud. For him… I nearly would’ve risked the life of the only other man tha’ ever showed me I was worth sumthin… ye.”

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When Mylene led him up to her room, Courfeyrac smiled a little. He couldn't walk by side with her up the stairs because it was so narrow,, and the room was somewhat small as well, but she was right – it was all hers. He couldn't help but notice the dark green fabric pinned to the wall. “Huh,” he noticed, not saying anymore about it. It was so simple, but spoke volumes. He glanced back to her from the room – there wasn't a lot to see, and anyway, he didn't really want to see anything besides her anyway. His mother had always told him to “listen with his eyes” when someone was speaking to him to make sure that he was paying attention.<P>

“It's a nice little place,” he insisted. He watched her for a moment trying to gather her thoughts, chewing her lip, running a hand through her hair. He just gave her a second to process things, and then he listened. He had figured there was more to the story than she had told him in the letter; presumably it had been quickly, though craftily, written. She just had a quick mind, that's all. Other than rubbing her leg reassuringly when she said that he was the only man who had showed her that she was worth something besides Alain, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, gathering his own thoughts.<P>

He did value her, she knew that, and he didn't just think that she was naïve and foolish, though sometimes she could be. Well, so could he. That's why they were revolutionaries and idealists, wasn't it? It wasn't always a bad thing. “Ye didn't risk my life,” he reminded her. “Ah risked it. Ah could've chosen not to go, and ye tried not to endanger me by not delivering that letter. But everythin' went the way that it was supposed to go, ye know. An' we're here safe now.” He looked at her, searching her face earnestly. “Ye always told me not to worry so much, Mylene. An ye're not to blame for all this tha's happened, alright?” He nuzzled her neck. “Ye were jus' tryin' te help. Mebbe in a misguided way, but there's only so much ye can do.”

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

[atrb=border,0,true] WHEN THE CIRCLING AND STRIKING ARE DONE AND I LAND LET ME COME BACK TO YOUR HAND, BACK TO YOUR HAND [style=height:340px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:00235E] It didn’t seem very important that Courfeyrac approved of her room, of her little realm so to say, but it still was something special to have him up here. There was not many people she allowed in this room, the owners of the Musain usually called for her from downstairs, and apart from Eponine, she couldn’t remember any foreign person ever entering it. She might not spent much time here in whole, but it was her sanctuary. Now that Courf was here though, it didn’t feel like an intrusion, or even violation. It felt… normal almost. He said that she hadn’t risked his life, because it had been his own decision, but Myléne was not so ready to agree to that. Was he talking about fate, about providence?! She had an even harder time believing THAT. It was the decisions that changed the course of a story, or even history as a whole, it was men and women who were responsible for desasters and successes by what they decided in a moment’s notice. He might think that she was not to blame, but the false monk surely had shown her that she was. She would never forget his accusing glance he had thrown at her, she almost had thought to see Alain’s eyes behind them, his soft voice saying sadly: ‘I expected better of you, sparrowhawk’. “Is it so wrong te want te repay a man his kindness by not givin’ up on him?” she asked, her hand reaching for the letter he had written her, securely stashed in her bodice again. “I guess fer… fer once in me life I wanted te keep sumthin… te not accept tha’ it was taken away from me again. An’ now I find tha’ he apparently was jus’ in hiding, kept against his will mebbe, bu’ not in mortal danger. If he knows I have friends tha’ teach me how te read, he could have freakin’ TOLD me he was alright, gimme a sign!” She tossed the letter on her lap, balling her fists again as her voice turned into a low, bitter muttering. “Bu’ mebbe he jus’ wanted te get rid o’ me … jus’ like everyone always wants te get rid o’ me. I shed be used te it, really.”

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“No, o' course not,” he insisted, watching her reach into her bodice to pluck out the letter. That was one place to keep it safe, he supposed. He searched her face, wondering what the letter said. At first he had thought that maybe she was talking about him when she said that she wanted to repay a man's kindness, but of course she had been talking about Alain. He knew that he didn't have to be jealous of the man, because Mylene had said that she was like a father to her... and anyway, he didn't think that he had any reason why he should be jealous of Mylene. He was pretty sure that Mylene liked him,but even if she didn't... he didn't have any right to be possessive. “Ah jes'... Ah jes' wan' ye te be safe. Tha's all.”

He probably didn't have any right to worry about her being safe, either, not because of any romantic reason, anyway. But he was still her friend. He knew that she could take care of herself most of the time, but after tonight... Well. Maybe it would be good for her to have someone looking out for her. Not because she was incapable, but because sometimes she made foolish decisions. He couldn't comfort her about the thing with Alain. “Ah'm sure tha's not true,” he murmured, though he wasn't sure.

“Mylene... Mylene,” he sighed, taking her elbow and jostling it gently, trying to get her attention. He slid his hands down her arms, taking her hands, gently easing her hands open again from the way they had been balled into fists. He guided one of her hands to his cheek, meeting her gaze. “Dun say such things,” he murmured, leaning into her palm. “Ah think ye're jes' upset. Not everyone wants te get rid of ye.” He hadn't done anything to make her feel like he wanted to get rid of her, had he? Offering her a tiny smile, he added, “Ah like havin' ye around, anyway.” He knew that wasn't enough for her, not when she missed Alain; he was just one man anyway. But maybe he could be one man who was important to her. “C'mon...” He ghosted kisses over her neck, trying to get her to smile. “Mylie...”

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

It was an odd feeling to have someone care for your safety that way, Mylène thought. Of course, Alain had wanted to keep her safe in his own way, but he had never tried to wrap her in cotton wool so to say, had even fuelled the dangerous adventure of her life by taking her along on his secret ‘meetings’ to keep watch for him. Eponine was another person looking out for her, but she never would say it in so many words, would rather show it in deeds, by putting her life first on the line, by taking the greater risks. But other than that, Mylène had always just looked out for herself, and she had never admitted to herself that she missed anything like the comforting hand of someone, or words of encouragement. She had made a good effort of simply accepting that these things were not for her, and the effort had been so succesful that she had all but forgotten about it. It had ceased to matter, she had been strong and happy without all of that.

She still was… wasn’t she? This was nothing but a short moment of weakness, a moment of things piling up to a mountain in front of her, aided by the anger she felt at herself for trusting Elise and her realization that all this time Alain must have had an eye on her without ever telling her so to ease her anxiety. It was never nice to realize you were nothing but a pawn in a far greater game you didn’t even know the rules of. “No one is ever safe!” she pointed out with a grimace. “Complete safety is ne’er moving, ne’er taking risks, and then ye might as well bury yeself. I rather look the danger in the eye than one day findin’ out I never truly lived.”

Courfeyrac certainly wasn’t easy to disregard and ignore when he wanted to be persistent, and he really tried his best to shake her out of her misery. Mylène did not oppose him when he guided one of her hands to his cheek, her thumbs even caressed the slight stubbly chin there as she tried to hold his gaze. There was nothing but earnesty and sincerity in both his words and his eyes, and she really wished to believe him. It would be so wonderful to just let herself be lulled in by the knowledge of finally being important to someone, not only tolerated and reluctantly respected. But could she really? Wouldn’t that just make her weak in the end, and an easy target once fate decided to take a swing at her again? “It was this way e’er since I can remember”, she insisted stubbornly, though she leaned into his caress. “Wha’ would make it different now?”

But when he kissed her on the neck and practically pleaded in his own, teasing way for her to snap out of this, she could not help the tiny smile that flickered over her face, though it still bore a weary edge. Who was she to shove all this on him? He certainly hadn’t signed up to be her agony aunt! She couldn’t expect from him that he would actually care to hear any of this, it was better to bury it deep once again and just try to live on, accepting the present. Being wanted physically was not the same as being surounded by a strong net of caring ties from the start, but it was far better than anything she had ever had before. So how could she dare to make this hard on Courf? Shaking her head, she tried a better smile this time. “Forget wha’ I said. I’m better now… promise!”

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Courfeyrac sighed heavily in exasperation. “Ah know tha', Mylene,” he said, with an eyebrow raised. “Look at who ye're talkin' to.” There was a difference however in doing things that were adventurous and doing things that were truly dangerous. It was possible to have fun without danger, as Mylene knew from being with the jugglers (and from being with Courfeyrac). And he did understand her desire to help Alain; he could sympathize. “Oy... let's not go back te that. Ah'm not sayin' ye should jes' hole up an' never come out. Ye know me, Ah live. But Ah'm not always foolish.” Only sometimes.

Though he could feel her relaxing slightly, her words were still stubbornly resistant. “Ye've always told me tha' Ah can make a difference,” he murmured, though of course she had been talking about France, not necessarily herself, and her own heart. But why not? “C'mon, Coquine... ye know ye're important... te me, an' te les amis.” He nuzzled her playfully. “Dun go fishin' fer compliments now.” He was teasing her of course, and wouldn't mind praising her. He had a feeling that she believed she wasn't worth their time, at least in this moment with her feelings of inadequacy after failing to help Alain. Most of the time, she talked about how everyone could make a difference, how everyone should be important in the eyes of the law.

“Ah'm not gonna jes' forget wha' ye said,” he insisted, raising an eyebrow and squeezing her knee. “Ye can tell me, ye know.” He had been slightly worried that what they had done the other night would change things between them for the worse. They'd always been able to tease each other, and flirt with each other, but there had been times that they'd had serious conversations too – about the future of France, and occasionally, tiny bits about their past, though Mylene was right, he'd never heard that much about Alain aside from what she said about the jugglers, and he hadn't told her much about his family. He wanted her to feel like she could trust him with this. Just because their relationship had changed to include new things didn't mean they couldn't still be friends and confidantes too.