A Wasps' Nest

Content:
Introduction
Current Chapter
Past Chapters
Cast of Characters
FAQ
Gallery
Which Wasp Are You?

A Letter From The Authors: Please read before proceeding, lest you be unexpectedly stung.

Commentary:
Love Notes
Love Letters
Commonplace Book

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merci, andrew.

Casualties: June, 1832

There is a slight lull in the heat of battle, long enough for the insurgents to bandage their wounds, count their numbers, and take a deep breath. For the third time in a handful of hours, Combeferre puts a hand on Enjolras' shoulder and says, softly, "I would speak with you, Julien."

"What is it?" The words are brusque, but he leans slightly, unconsciously into the touch.

"I hate this." The words are soft but vehement. "I don't understand any of it -- and I don't understand you when you are like this. You frighten me," says the man with his compatriots' blood on his shirt, where the apron does not cover properly. "I don't know you anymore."

Enjolras looks at him sharply. "Do you think I don't hate it?" The blue of his eyes seems faded toward gray. "Do you think I'm pleased with this state of affairs? Then you're right; you don't know me."

"It doesn't have to be this way, Julien. It could have been different, if you had only let it --" Combeferre bites his lip and looks at the ground. "It should have been different. How could you -- you knew we would die, from the start."

"No, I did not know that, and I don't know it now!" Abruptly, Enjolras is blazing again. "By God, blame me for everything that's gone wrong if you must, but don't you dare assume--"

Combeferre frowns at him. "You said it, hours ago, and if you don't remember then by God you must believe that I would not forget such a thing from you. I only pray that you were wrong, though I know this is hopeless --" he shakes his head. "If we live, if we get through this -- everything will have changed, not only the Republic, the Country," he gestures grandly, "but the way I feel about you."

"Oh, really."

"Yes -- I -- " Combeferre pauses. Outside the barricade, there is the sound of gunfire. He ducks, reflexively, as do the rest of the men behind their makeshift wall. "I loved you with all my heart. And I -- I have to go. They'll need me in a moment."

Enjolras glances distractedly over his shoulder. He has gone terribly pale. "Then perhaps you're the one who has changed here, not I." With that, he turns away.

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