Courfeyrac did not die on a barricade in the Rue de la Chanvrerie on June 6, 1832. This miraculous survival may be attributed to a freak occurance which combined time travel, a faerie godmother, a really nice National Guard, a self-sacrificing mistress, and a strategically placed pen on a notebook owned by a bored housewife in Pennsylvania. We will spare you further details, as that is not the point of this tale.
The point is that our handsome lad is alive and well and living in the Marais in October of 1832. There, he spends his days quietly weaving bobbin lace and reading romance novels, which, he is very disappointed to find out, do not contain his definition of romance. Unfortunately, the time travel which contributed to his current state of organic activity failed to provide him with modern literature.
Our hero grows bored in his quiet room, where he has no female companionship, other than a gray cat that likes to scratch his handsome legs when he walks around his room in his nightshirt in the early morning. This makes our hero howl in pain, while the cat hides beneath the bed, smirking.
Being a smart lad, Courfeyrac finally decides to take walks outside in the morning. After a particularly awkward encounter with the landlady, he even remembers to put pants on. Although he is very sad because all his friends are dead and he didn't even get to go to their funerals, he manages to look presentable, although not foppish, as he is in mourning, and the ladies smile at him, even though he must look somberly back at them, as befits his mourning status.
One day, he encounters a particularly lovely specimin walking along with her father. A dark-haired angel, carrying a basket on her arm, and chattering with the old fellow, whom our rebel boy is almost certain he's seen before. As he approaches, he catches a snippet of what the girl is saying.
"Papa, do you know what Marius said--"
"Marius!" Courfeyrac shouts, startling the girl into dropping her basket. The old father gives him a dirty look.
Our knight-errant bends down to retrieve the basket, seeing as girls in tight corsets can't do so. "Begging your pardon, M'sieur, Mademoiselle-- But, did you say 'Marius'?" He looks at the pretty girl in astonishment, forgetting that a moment ago he was mentally removing her stockings.
The pretty girl blinks at this strange, yet endearing, young lad. She glances at her Papa, confused. Papa speaks up. "What does 'Marius' mean to you?" he asks the boy, suspiciously.
"A great deal!" Courfeyrac answers enthusiastically. "He was my dearest friend. But then he- er- I haven't seen him in several months. Since June."
The young lady appears to think for amoment. "What is your name, Monsieur?" she asks softly.
"Courfeyrac," he answers, getting a bit impatient. If Marius isn't alive through some freak coincidence, the like of which the world has never seen before, then he'd better get home and feed his bloodthirsty cat.
The girl and her Papa exchange a glance, during which the girl nods her head. "Marius.. Pontmercy?" she asks hesitantly.
"Yes!" Courfeyrac exclaims. "Oh, do you know where I might find him?"
"Come with us," the old man answers, taking the young boy by the shoulder. "Say, I do recognize you, don't I? You were there that night..."
"I can explain!" Courfeyrac says, suddenly sweating buckets. Then: "Oh. That night. Yes. I was there."
(tbc, when Chandler decides to behave.)
--Jeni Baron.