Disclaimer: I own Marié, Alec Javert, Adaline, Céleste, the names of Enjolras's parents, and Adaline and Enjolras's kids.

June 7th, 1832

Adaline POV:

I'm back at the barricades. I look around, seeing every Ami alive once again. I whip around, hearing Gavroche's song. However, the soldier shoots immediately, piercing Gavroche's heart. I scream heartbreakingly.

"Help him!!" I beg Joly, who just shakes his head. I see Courfeyrac huddling over the small boy, crying his eyes out.

"This is your fault!!" he screams at me. "If only you had reacted faster, Gavroche would still be alive." I stand there, helpless, with tears streaming down my face.

"No.." I whisper, backing away. "No, no, NO!!!" I see Courf get shot, bullet arcing into his spine. His furious eyes glare into mine as they glaze over, death taking him as prisoner. I run away, feet pulling me into the Café as much as I try to fight it. As I run, I hear the shouts and pleading of my friends, Les Amis de l'ABC, as the soldiers overwhelm them. I see Bosseut get stabbed with a bayonet, a gaping hole in the middle of his chest oozing out blood. I get to the top of the Café, where we met for revolutionary meetings and planned happily. I bite my lower lip as I see Grantaire stumble out from where he was hiding.

"You killed me," he says softly, the quiet tone of his voice hurting more than Courf's shouting. "My death is your fault. All your fault." I feel a cold hand on my wrist, turning and seeing Alec Javert's face leering at me. I hear a burst of gunshots and turn, seeing Enjolras falling in the window like one of the fallen angels in Heaven. Tears come even faster until I'm choking on my sobs.

"Pleasure," he says, coming ever closer to me. I scream out my husband's name, one word escaping from my lips on repeat as I step backwards, trying to avoid Javert's grasp. It doesn't work.

CAUTION!! THIS MATERIAL BELOW IS A LITTLE MORE THAN PG. IF YOU WANT TO SKIP IT, SCROLL UNTIL YOU SEE THIS WRITING AGAIN.

His lips start making their way down my neck, cold and slimy. I cringe away and he slaps me. My head whips to the side from the force of his hit, cheek probably already red. His hands pull me closer and start to undo my corset strings, the corset falling off and exposing my bare skin to him. This man, a man who is definitely not my husband, starts touching me in places that are supposed to be saved for Enjolras. I scream, but nobody hears me. Then, the next thing I know is pain.

Once he..... finishes, he grabs a knife. He stabs my belly, where my child is peacefully resting. I yelp and curl into a ball, hands soothingly caressing the hole in my abdomen. My child is dead. Dead. Dead.

OKAY THE CAUTION PART IS OVER!!!! THIS REALLY HURT ME BECAUSE I'M ONLY 14 AND THIS IS BRUTAL.

I shoot up in bed, gasping for air. The sheets are tangled around my legs, caused from my twisting and turning in the throes of my nightmare. I bury my head in my hands, lower lip quivering.

"Adaline," I hear my husband whisper, voice husky from sleep. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," I murmur back, cuddling closer to Enjolras. He props his head up on his hand, staring into my hazel eyes.

"You aren't fine," he responds, other hand moving up to touch my cheek softly. "What happened?" I gulp, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. It doesn't work. I burst into tears, the nightmare circling through my head as if it's a broken record. Enjolras sits up in bed and pulls me closer to him, my head resting on his broad chest. He rocks me back and forth. "You can tell me, you know," he offers gently.

"I had a nightmare," I whisper into his chest. I feel him nod his head and I respond to his unanswered question: what was it about? "I was back at the barricades and I had to see Gavroche get shot," I say softly, sobbing in the middle. "Courf told me his death was all my fault and then he died. I saw every Ami die. Except you and Grantaire. I went up to the top of the Café and then Grantaire was there. He told me basically the same thing as Courf did." Enjolras sits there silently, absorbing my nightmare. I try forcing out the name of my stalker, but can't. "Al-Javert was there, gripping onto my wrist like he did before. Then, I heard gunshots and you fell. You were actually-" my voice falters out, not able to say the last word. I soldier on in my story, knowing that if I didn't tell him this now I'd never be able to. "He raped me," I whisper quietly. Enjolras stiffens and I can feel his jaw clenching. "After he........... yeah, he stabbed me, killing the unborn child I carry now. Then, I woke up."

"You are fine, Adaline. I'm not dead, Gavroche isn't dead, and that creep didn't do anything to you," my Apollo soothes. I clutch onto him, still sobbing. He kisses the top of my head and I look up at him, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears and concern. He lifts a hand and, using the pad of his thumb, gently wipes my tears away. He smiles softly at me, comforting me. I hear a soft knock on the door. "Come in!" Enjolras calls, hand dropping to mine and holding it. I hear the door creak open and see Gavroche padding in on soft feet.

"Enjolras?" Gavroche whispers. "Mom?"

"Yes, Gavroche?" I murmur softly as I look into his eyes, blue eyes that are currently glistening with tears.

"I had a nightmare," he admits quietly.

"I had one too," I say, voice quiet. "Would you like to talk about it? It helps, at least; it helped me." He nods his head and clambers on top of the bed, nestling in between Enjolras and I.

"It wasn't good. I had to watch Árielle, Courf, and both of you die. I was being held by some French soldier and was forced to watch you be shot by a firing squad." He swallows, voice cracking. "Courf was shot first, a bullet straight to his brain. Árielle was next, getting shot straight into the stomach and looking up at me with this expression of-" he trails off for a second. "agony and confusion. The two of you were shot together. Enjolras, you were shot by eight bullets in unison. Ada-I mean Mom, you got shot while holding onto Enjolras's hand. The bullet went straight into your heart, but somehow your tummy started bleeding." He shivers. "But, apparently the baby died too." I shudder and hold Gavroche tighter.

"Would you like to stay here for the night?" Enjolras asks softly. I feel Gavroche nod his head, still buried in our embrace. We lay back down in bed and I run my hand soothingly through Gavroche's blonde hair, other hand holding Enjolras's. We drift off to sleep like this, holding each other and comforting each other.

**********

We wake up once more a few hours later, no nightmares plaguing our sleep. Gavroche hops out of bed, seemingly refreshed from the terrible dream he had not twelve hours before. Twelve year old boys should never even dream of these things, let alone live them!! I sit up and swing my legs over the bed, getting on my own two feet easily. We walk through the halls of the convent, Gavroche running ahead with Árielle, who we woke up a few minutes ago. Enjolras's arm is draped around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him.

"I want you to meet my parents," he whispers in my ear, face set in a pensive expression. I look up at him in shock, eyes wide.

"Your parents?" I say, dumbfounded. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Completely, 100% positive. We're married and you're having a baby. I should have introduced you a lot sooner," he says, convincing me.

"Well, hopefully it's a better family reunion than mine. You remember when you met my mother, right?"

"At the ball or when she found out we were courting?" Enjolras asks.

"Both," I specify. We look at each other, similar expressions of mirth dancing in our eyes, and burst into laughter. Gavroche turns around, confused. I smile at him through the tears of laughter in my eyes, telling him that we're fine.

"'And you will leave the ball promptly,'" Enjolras mocks my mother, somehow imitating her voice perfectly. I snort lightly and grin up at my husband.

"'And you will be coming with me to jail,'" I continue, laughing all the while. "And you meeting my father wasn't particularly great either." I shudder, remembering Courf's death and the tears that followed. Enjolras looks at me with concern and pulls me closer to him, kissing the top of my head.

"We'll just have to make a better meeting with my parents then," he whispers softly. "My mother will be exhilarated; it's my father we have to worry about." I look up at him, eyebrow raised in a perfect arch. "Let's just say that my father and I aren't really on good terms what with the revolution and all." I sigh and rub my temples.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. Maybe Gavroche could come too. We'll need to teach him a little proper etiquette if he does come, though." I think about this, pondering the pros and cons.

"Gavroche," I call, the boy in question turning to face me with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Yes?" he asks happily.

"Would you like to come with Enjolras and I to his parent's house and meet them?" I see Gavroche's eyebrows knit together, a little apprenhensive.

"Aren't your parents bourgeois?" Gavroche questions. Enjolras sighs.

"Yes," he admits, face drawn distastefully. "I think you'll have fun, but you'll have to learn some proper manners before we go."

"Fine," Gavroche sighs. "I'll come with you, but only if Árielle comes too." We agree and go down for breakfast, planning to teach Gavroche and Árielle etiquette before we leave for Enjolras's parents'.

Enjolras starts off our impromptu lesson. "First things first, always keep your hands above the dinner table. That means no resting your hands in your lap, no tapping someone on the leg, and no sitting on your hands." The children nod their heads, practicing on our meal now.

"Even if you don't like the food, don't say anything! If someone asks, say it's the best food you've ever had," I continue, biting my lower lip nervously. "Use your knife and fork daintily. Don't saw at your food, cut it carefully." The children diligently follow our instructions on their breakfast, making me smile fondly at them.

"If there is a toast, lift your glass carefully in the center of the table, being mindful not to cross your arms over anyone's. If you spill anything, because people make mistakes, apologize immediately but sincerely."

"Do you get all of this?" I ask them, seeing their nods of agreement. I smile. "Well, now that we're done with breakfast, we should probably get ready for the day." We walk back up to our rooms, Gavroche disappearing in his to probably get ready. Árielle does the same nervously. I turn to unpack our clothing and see the corsets I have resting on top of the suitcase. "Merde!" I curse under my breath, Enjolras looking at me with a confused expression on his face.

"What brought that on?" he asks, voice shocked.

"I just realized I'd have to wear a corset to this meeting. Those things are terrible." Enjolras barks out a laugh.

"Well I'll never know, as I am a male." I roll my eyes and toss his clothes at him, the shirt hitting his chest and falling to the floor because he couldn't catch everything. I smirk and turn towards the suitcase once more, grabbing a corset, a dress, a chemise, a pair of shoes, and a bodice.

"And now I will not breathe until we come back to this convent," I say jokingly and sarcastically. Enjolras shakes his head, laughing at me all the while. "Oh you stop it!" I slap his arm lightly and he smirks at me. Grabbing my wrist lightly, he pulls me into his chest. I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his lips, us swaying back and forth as we kiss. We part softly, eyes staring up at each other. I go into the small bathroom and change my outfit. I get up to the chemise and shoes and sigh. "Enjolras, can you tie the back of my corset?" I call out. I hear the door open and his soft hands going to the back of the corset, tying the strings tightly but not too tightly so that I suffocate. That would be bad. I shoo him out again and put my bodice and dress on. I'm finally done with my outfit, which took around an hour because of the difficult ties and laces. I walk out of the bathroom and see Enjolras tying his cravat for literally the first time I've ever seen. I go behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back. He finishes tying his cravat and I let go of him as he turns around. His mouth drops open, speechless. I grin while blushing at his reaction. He takes my hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing my hand. He lets go of my hand and I bring it down to my side, going over to Gavroche's door and knocking on it. "You okay in there, Gav?"

"I'm fine!" he calls back. "I don't need help!" I hear him struggling with something.

"Sounds like you do need help."

"Fine, I need help." I open the door and see Gavroche struggling to get his injured arm into the sleeve of his suit. I walk over and gently help him maneuver it into the hole. I tie his cravat for him as well.

"Better?" I say lightly.

"Yeah. Better."

"Their house is around five hours away, so we'd better get in the carriage soon." I walk over to Árielle's door and knock once more, calling for her.

"I'm ready!!" she exclaims, bursting out of her room excitedly. Her enthusiasm is greater than my nervousness, which makes me happier and less apprehensive. The four of us walk out of the convent to the carriage waiting for us and we get in, Enjolras telling the driver where to go.

*********

Around five hours later, we reach the Enjolras's home. I bite my lower lip, nervous about meeting my husband's parents. We already should have met when Enjolras started "courting" me, but both of us don't care at all for the bourgeois customs. My Apollo wraps his arm around my waist, holding me close to him. Gavroche and Árielle are behind us, seemingly hiding. We walk up to the door and knock on it, rapping the wood twice sharply. The door creaks open and I see a kind face smiling up at us, grey hair wrapped in a bun and dressed in a maid's outfit.

"Little Enjolras?" she says in disbelief. "It can't be!!" Enjolras grins at the woman.

"Hello, Céleste," Enjolras says softly. "It truly is me, along with three others that I think my parents need to meet." The maid, apparently her name is Céleste, welcomes us in the house, smiling widely. She flutters around, dusting every little thing that she sees and fixing the house for the guests.

"Your parents are in the parlor," she says. "Would you like me to get them?"

"Yes please, Céleste." I see Gavroche's eyes widen, nervous as well. I reach my hand out to him and the boy takes it. I squeeze his hand with mine and he relaxes, me dropping his hand a second after. He replaces my hand with Árielle's, something that makes me smirk. I turn around to face the door Céleste disappeared into. Then, I see the door open and I take a deep breath in anticipation. A tall woman appears in the doorway, blonde hair like Enjolras's tied up in a chignon. Her hazel eyes, like mine, widen in shock, staring into her son's. I feel Enjolras straighten and I lean into him slightly.

"Apollo?" she whispers, voice shaking. "My little warrior?" I crack a smile at his nickname.

"Yes, maman. It's me," Enjolras says quietly, trying to comfort his mother. She bursts into tears and rushes at her son, holding onto him tightly. Enjolras's arm drops from my waist as he pulls his mother into a hug, him being around two heads taller than she is.

"I heard terrible things," the woman murmurs softly. "Things about how you were dead from the revolution in Paris."

"I'm not dead," he soothes. It's very... blunt. "Maman, I have someone for you to meet," he says, taking a deep breath to encourage himself. "Actually, make that three someones." Enjolras's mother lets go of him, making herself more graceful and dignified. "Maman, may I have the pleasure of introducing to you my wife, Adaline." The woman's jaw drops, shocked. "Adaline, mon ange chéri, this is my mother, Madame Renée Enjolras" (A/N: mon ange chéri = my darling angel). I clear my throat nervously.

"Bonjour, madame," I greet cheerfully yet politely.

"None of that 'madame' nonsense," she claims, waving her hand through the air, "you can call me maman as well." I smile gently at her, thanking her.

"Mad-" the woman hits me with a stern look, imploring me to call her mother. "Maman, these two are Gavroche and Árielle. Gavroche is the closest thing I have to a son, and he calls me mother. Gav, Ári, this is Enjolras's mother, Renée." Renée Enjolras smiles at the two kids, her smile making me think of her son's.

"Welcome to our home," she says cheerily, grinning at the children. "Would you like to have some lunch? Your journey must have been exhausting." She walks into the parlor and beckons us after her. I look up at Enjolras. His face is alight with tension and nervousness. I hold onto his hand and interlock our fingers, Enjolras looking down at our entwined hands. He smiles at me and kisses my forehead softly. We walk into the parlor and I see Enjolras's father seated in a plush chair near an elaborate wooden table. He's tall like his son, piercing blue eyes exactly like Enjolras's. The curls in his dark brown hair remind me of Enjolras's. "Marcelin, look who has come home!!" Renée chirps, excited that her son is perfectly physically alright from the barricades.

"Finally stopped muttering about that godforsaken revolution, have you?" Enjolras's father says harshly, deep baritone forcing the words out. I blink, shocked, while Enjolras sighs, exasperated already within literally three seconds.

"Pére, this is my wife, Adaline. Adaline, this is my father, Monsieur Marcelin Enjolras. And no, Father, I have not stopped trying to help the poor that are struggling in Paris, as much as you would like me to."

"Marcelin, Apollo, please. We have guests," Enjolras's mother tries to placate both men. Enjolras's teeth are gritted together and the children look from my husband to his father, confused.

"Bonjour, monsieur," I say calmly, trying to alleviate the tension. "These two children are Gavroche and Árielle," I introduce each person, pointing to them as I do so. Árielle waves shyly while Gavroche nods his head, seemingly picking up on Enjolras's stiffness. Monsieur Enjolras looks at both children, blue eyes piercing into them and studying them. He nods his head curtly, seemingly accepting of the two kids. I let out a breath of relief and watch as Enjolras stands where he is, not moving an inch and coolly meeting his father's disapproving gaze.

"Adaline, Apollo!" Renée nearly shouts from the awkwardness permeating the room. "I'm expecting that you are famished from your journey here!! Would you like to sit down and get a bite to eat?"

"That would be wonderful, Maman. Thank you," Enjolras says politely yet warmly. I look around the parlor discreetly, seeing red velvet chairs and sofas along with beautifully decorated wooden tables that probably cost an arm and a leg. I see Enjolras's father gesture towards a long sofa, basically commanding us to sit down. My husband takes my hand softly and leads me over to the couch as I sit down gracefully. Gavroche and Árielle follow after us hesitatingly, sitting down next to me. Renée walks out of the parlor quickly and orders some food for us. Enjolras's hand curls around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. The tension and awkwardness in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"How are Etienne and Alexandre?" Monsieur Enjolras asks in a monotone. For a second, I don't recognize these names. Then I remember. Courfeyrac and Combeferre, respectively. I sharply inhale and look at Enjolras, who is staring down at his hands.

"That is probably a conversation for when Maman returns," Enjolras deftly avoids the question. "How's your money-leeching law firm going? Oh wait, never mind. It's going absolutely perfectly because your only clients are the rich." His father's face grows red with anger, so red that I feel he's going to explode.

"Show some respect, Apollo. Your mother and I raised you to be a proper and charming young man. I'm afraid to say that-"

Enjolras cuts him off, furious. "You raised me? Mother did all of the raising; you just stood there emotionless and expressionless!!" I take Enjolras's hand and intertwine our fingers, trying to relax him. My father-in-law looks at our joined hands as if I had just passionately kissed him in the middle of a funeral. Enjolras takes a deep breath, trying to control his red-hot temper. Renée walks into the room and beckons us to the dining room where six bowls of beef stew and many other types of food are set on the table. As I walk in, the smell of coffee wafts into my body and my stomach curls. I gulp. This isn't good at all. What's going on?

"Mon amour," I whisper in Enjolras's ear quietly, hand still clutching Enjolras's like a lifeline. "something's wrong." Enjolras nearly stops in his tracks, but I pull him gently along.

"What's wrong? Do you feel alright? Are you about to faint?" Enjolras continues in this strain of questions for a while, keeping a soft volume so that nobody else could hear us.

"Enjolras, I'm fine. I just...... the coffee is very strong and it's making me sick to my stomach." Enjolras raises an eyebrow, confused. I shrug lightly, almost as perplexed as my Apollo is. Enjolras leads me towards the part of the table farthest away from his father and the pot of coffee resting at his place. I release a breath of air, better now that the vile smell is away from me.

"Is this better?" he whispers in my ear, lips tickling the soft and sensitive skin.

"Yes," I murmur back, Enjolras sitting down in the chair next to mine. Gavroche and Árielle follow after us, sitting in the two chairs across from us. Enjolras's father sits in his chair at the head of the table and raises his eyebrow at his son as we all pick up our utensils.

"So? How are Etienne and Alexandre?" he asks. I look at Enjolras, whose blue eyes shine with grief for the two best friends he's known since they were toddlers. Enjolras lightly puts his fork down and starts to speak.

"As I'm sure you have heard by now," Enjolras starts, "there was a revolution in Paris."

"Yes. Go on," his father orders, stone-faced and cold. Enjolras sets his jaw and forges on, lifting his head with pride over his part in the aforementioned revolution.

"I am... was the leader of the revolution," Enjolras admits. His father leaps up from his seat and jabs a finger at his son. Gavroche and Árielle look wide-eyed at the tall, intimidating man. Enjolras's mother grabs his hand and pulls it down back to the table, giving her husband a look.

"Let him finish, Marcelin."

"Thank you, maman," Enjolras says quietly. "Etienne and Alexandre were part of the revolution as well, along with eight others." Enjolras's mother gasps, hearing the past tense usage. Enjolras swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. "Adaline, Gavroche, and Árielle are also part of the revolution. Only Adaline, Gavroche, Árielle, Marius, and I survived." Gavroche bites his lower lip, probably already understanding what Etienne's last name is and what he did to spare Gavroche's life. "Marius survived basically only because he's the luckiest man I know. He could have probably done an Irish jig on top of the barricade and still survive." I stifle a chuckle at the image that produced. "Wait, scratch that," he says, hand softly brushing my still-flat stomach. Enjolras looks at me for a quick second then back at his father, fixing his stare into eyes much like his own. "the baby Adaline is carrying now also survived." The room erupts with noise.

"A baby!!" Enjolras's mother exclaims in joyfulness. "I'm going to be a grand-mere!" (grand-mere = grandma)

Enjolras's father's reaction is not nearly as pleasant. "A baby in the middle of the revolution. I thought you had more sense than that, Apollo." I stare at my father-in-law, jaw dropped in shock. Enjolras glares at his father, face drawn in such a deep expression of disgust that it makes me feel remorse for something that I didn't do!

"Actually, I do have sense," Enjolras retorts almost immediately. "Not having sense would be letting my wife and my child die at the barricades. Actually, children. I seem to have gotten them out all right, correct?" Enjolras's parents stare at him, surprised.

"Children?" Enjolras's mother asks, puzzled. "Are you having twins or triplets, Adaline?"

"I don't know yet," I answer her question gracefully. "I'm only in my second month."

Enjolras's father fixes his son with a stern gaze. "And who, pray tell, is the second child?" Enjolras takes a deep breath and looks at Gavroche, blue eyes that were blazing with an angry fire a few seconds ago softening to look at the young boy how a father should look at his son. He looks back at his father, motioning towards Gavroche.

"Gavroche is my son," Enjolras says quietly yet passionately. Gavroche looks at Enjolras, surprised. "Not my flesh and blood son, but my son nonetheless. And I will protect him with my life," he says dangerously at his father. Gavroche's eyes well up with tears, making me stand up out of my seat and walk around the table over to the young boy. He flings himself into my arms and I hold him, listening to Enjolras and his father argue back and forth. I rock Gavroche back and forth as he clings to me, shocked that somebody would care for him like that. It makes me sad sometimes how alone Gavroche is. Instead of being cared for, he takes care of others. "And now," Enjolras says curtly, "we will take our leave. Au revoir maman, au revoir pére" (au revoir = goodbye). Enjolras stands up and walks around to Gavroche, kneeling down next to us. "Are you ready to go, Gav?" he questions quietly. Gav nods his head and Enjolras stretches his arms out, pulling the boy into a hug. I smile tenderly at my boys, standing up from my spot on the floor and holding Árielle's hand.

"Wait!!" Enjolras's mother calls. "Will you come visit again with the baby?" I look at Enjolras, who looks back at me. Apparently he hadn't planned our visit this far ahead.

"Yes, maman," I reply, smiling at the woman who has already proven to be more of a mother in an hour than the mother that raised me for 26 years. The four of us exit the large estate, getting into the carriage and riding off towards the Petit-Picpus convent once more.

Author's Note: This chapter took forever to write!!! Hopefully you guys enjoyed it. I feel as if Enjolras's mother would be way, way nicer than his father.

                -WifeofEnjolras