#there was a girl i took care of that had committed to notre dame to play d1 basketball that got a high ankle sprain

[frasermints]

Why is Joey's ankle sprain the worst case scenario? Week to week is good I thought

typically, w/ athletes that require a lot of ankle movement (basketball is where i saw most of my ankle injuries) week to week is a good sign. and if we can trust what leafs pr staff are saying (which, if you know me... I Do Not), then his sprain isn't worse than a grade two.

skates are designed the way they're designed for a reason. ankle support is a necessity so you can skate safely. that's why if you watch this video, OP is getting their shit rocked in the comments for wrapping their laces around their ankle - it creates the illusion of stability while actually destroying the integrity of the boot & setting them up for injury.

i have concerns that ayotte and bean and theodoropolous are going to either sign off on him getting back to on-ice activities too early - not even playing just fucking practice - or that woller himself will push too hard the second he's cleared out of a misplaced sense of obligation and he's going to resprain and it will be worse.

if you don't know, high ankle sprains are much worse than your average "i stepped down off the curb and fucked my foot up". high ankle sprains have an at minimum six to eight week heal time, often with the demand of no weight and zero movement for the first two. it can cause a rotational or shearing fracture at the end of the tibia/fibula where the ligaments insert, which was why he got the MRI yesterday. they had to know what they were working with to make sure he wasn't out for the season vs just out "week to week" (it's going to end up being at least a month. prepare for two.) they also sometimes require surgery and plating if there is a fracture involved, mostly because of where the break is. they have to make sure the bones of your leg stay where they're supposed to be.

because there isn't a lot of blood supply to ligament tissue, it's really hard for ligaments to heal. and because i don't have access to woller's mri results or ayotte's/bean's/theodoropolous' brains, i have no idea what they're planning on doing for a rest and rehab plan, if there's an incomplete tear, if it's grade one or grade two. i could keep going.

back to the ankle support skates thing - woller isn't skating miles every single night, but much of his job relies on his flexibility, ability to change direction quickly, ability to quite literally fold in on himself at a moment's notice. his ankles have to be stable AND flexible. that is not possible with any amount of leftover inflammation or injury.

woller is the entire leafs team. as much as i love willy and mo and mitch and everyone else. woller is the entire leafs team. keefe knows this. keefe is not a doctor. keefe has pushed them to the point of exhaustion a couple times this season. the only reason practice was cancelled after mo's 35+ minute game was because he literally could not get out of bed the next day. i don't know if i trust keefe's judgement when woller does come back. i just... i don't have a good feeling about it.

once you fuck up a joint, especially the ankle, especially where woller hurt his, it's fucked up for the rest of your life. he is very likely to do this again at least twice. maybe not during his career. maybe when he's retired. maybe during an offseason. but again - you guys see the shit he does in the net. he acts like he doesn't have any fucking bones. he runs around like he's a puppet on strings. like he's a fucking video game character. he does not treat his body kindly when he plays. i don't know what he does to cool down or warm up or whatever, but he treats his body poorly during games. this was inevitable. and i am scared for what happens during his recovery.

i do not give a fuck if we end this season 32 in the league. i do not care if we use marlies goalies for the rest of the season. all i need is leafs staff to listen to me when i tell them to let joseph woll recover at home for as long as he needs for his ankle to be at 100%, because if they don't, it will not be good for him.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 20

A/N:  Remember to like, reblog, yell in the tags, and support your friendly neighbourhood fic writers.  We appreciate it more than you think!  And thanks for all the positive feedback on my double post last week!  This chapter focuses more on Aberdeen and Siena’s sisterhood.  Hope you enjoy!  

February 15th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was in a taxi.

With the Canadian Tire Centre being in Kanata, Aberdeen needed a taxi to get into downtown Ottawa, and judging by what Siena told her about the bus, she wasn’t going to trust it to take her there.  They were meeting at Chez Lucien, a gastro bar in the ByWard Market that Siena apparently frequented a lot with her law school friends.  Aberdeen had come to visit Siena in Ottawa a few times since she began law school, and every time Siena took her to a different place.  It was nice, because she got to see more of what Ottawa had to offer, and what Siena’s life was like here as opposed to in Toronto, but a part of Aberdeen wished they had a ‘spot’.  

Siena had been waiting, as she was able to walk to Chez Lucien from where she lived near campus.  Aberdeen was kicking the snow off her boots and unwrapping all her layers at the door as she watched Siena scroll through her phone in a booth in the middle of the room.  The restaurant was pretty busy with the lunch time crowd, and the food already smelled delicious.  “How do you deal with all this snow?” she asked as she approached the table.

Siena shrugged.  “You get used to it, I guess.  Did you get here okay?”

Aberdeen nodded as she slipped into the booth.  “It’s quite the trek, though.  Make sure you leave early tonight.”

“I don’t think it would matter if I missed the first five minutes,” Siena said.

Aberdeen noticed a certain tone in Siena’s voice that made her realize this wasn’t going to be a nice, relaxing lunch with her older sister.  For how close they were and for how much Aberdeen loved Siena with every fibre of her being, Siena…could be a bitch sometimes.  It was usually drama with friends that did it, or bad grades – Siena hated getting bad grades.  She couldn’t compartmentalize her anger like Aberdeen could.  Siena couldn’t leave her anger at school and be happy while out with someone else.  She brought that anger with her and, while she hid it better in front of friends, she didn’t hide it in front of Aberdeen, meaning Aberdeen usually got the brunt end of it.  “Probably not, but MLSE comped the ticket, so it would be nice if you showed up on time.”

“The burgers are really good here,” Siena said, dropping it.  

Aberdeen opened the menu and looking at the list of burgers.  “So what is it?  A bad mark?  Professor piss you off?” she asked without looking up from the menu.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.  Now what do you want?”

The conversation flowed uncomfortably.  There were a few awkward pauses, which was unusual for the sisters, and though the food was good, Aberdeen could tell Siena wasn’t really all there.  There was something else occupying her mind that wasn’t allowing her to be fully present with Aberdeen.  Aberdeen wasn’t necessarily pissed off, because she certainly went through her moods too, but Siena wasn’t even trying to make an effort.  Aberdeen decided not to say anything.  It was for the best.

“So you look different,” Siena said, picking at the last of her fries and ketchup.

“I do?” Aberdeen asked.  “How so?”

“I don’t know,” Siena shrugged.  “Your hair’s a bit different.”

“Well, I attempted a blowout, but you know how that goes with me.”

“Does William like it when your hair is straight as opposed to your frizzy curls?” Siena asked, popping a fry into her mouth.

Aberdeen furrowed her brows.  “Who cares what William likes?” Aberdeen asked.  “I sure as hell don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“Siena, come on.  When have I ever changed myself for a guy?” Aberdeen asked.  She didn’t have a history of it at all, so she didn’t know why Siena would imply such a thing.  “I know that William and I are in this weird little…I don’t know, dance, but that doesn’t mean I’m changing myself so he’ll like me more or whatever.”  Aberdeen knew she didn’t have to.  She knew that William liked her – loved her – just as she was.  He’d never asked her to change anything about herself, and actually got mad when Saylor made that off-handed comment about her nose.  

“Are you sneaking around with him?” Siena asked suddenly.

Aberdeen was taken aback by the question.  She furrowed her brows and dropped her jaw, offended.  “What?!  NO!” she exclaimed.  She scared herself for how easily and emphatically she had just lied to her sister.  

“Are you lying to me?” Siena asked.

“Why would you even think that?” Aberdeen pressed.  “What the hell, Siena?  Do you honestly think I would jeopardize my job like that?  The job I work so hard in?  The job that might lead me to do what I actually want to do?  You honestly think I’d burn this bridge?”

“I don’t know.  You’ve done stupid shit in the past, Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen felt tears well in her eyes.  She always knew Siena could be a bitch when she wanted to, but right now, she was being just downright mean.  It was hard not to take it personally.  “Wow.  Thanks Siena.”

“I’m just stating the obvious.”

“I love the faith you have in me.”

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you,” Siena said.  “I just saw the way you looked at him on Christmas when he showed up.  And more importantly, I saw the way he looked at you.  And I know – or I at least have a feeling – that you wouldn’t be able to resist him if he actually came on to you.”

“That’s a bit rich coming from the girl who told us to sneak up to our room alone after watching an episode Brooklyn 9-9.”

“Don’t deflect this and put this on me, Aberdeen,” Siena narrowed her eyes.  “You’re the vulnerable one in this situation when it comes to him.  I mean you’ve already slept together.  You slept together after knowing each other for what?  A few hours?  I mean, if you’d had the decency to wait, you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

Aberdeen’s eyes stung from trying to hold back her tears.  She couldn’t even look at her sister.  Instead, she focused on her hands in her lap, twiddling nervously with the ring William got her.  “Are you done?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.  “I mean it, are you done?”

“Aberdeen—”

“Is this why you asked me to lunch?  So you could make me feel like complete shit?” Aberdeen asked indignantly.

“You’re choosing to feel that way.  I’m not making you.”

Aberdeen pushed her chair back dramatically.  She refused to participate in this conversation anymore.  Actually, it wasn’t even a conversation – it was a sabotage.  She snatched her purse off the back of her chair and grabbed her coat and scarf before walking away from the table, not even caring that she was walking out on her sister and sticking her with both bills.  By the time she had reached the door, throwing her jacket over her shoulders and wrapping her scarf around her neck, there were already tears falling.  

She walked up the street, not even knowing where she was going and where she was going to end up, and she didn’t bother taking her phone out to check.  Instead, she cried.  She cried about the things her sister said to her.  She cried about how she lied to her sister.  But more than anything, she cried about how awful she felt, how it felt like her heart was in the pit of her stomach, how her mind was racing about what she was doing with William and how wrong it was but how happy she was when she was with him.  She was so conflicted.  She was being pulled in opposite directions; quartered in the town square for everyone to see for the sins she was committing.  

Aberdeen knew she fucked up.  She knew.  She knew the moment William stepped into that elevator and shook her hand.  She didn’t need anybody to tell her that, or to remind her of the mistakes she’d made.  But she didn’t have regrets.  Maybe she should, but she didn’t.  She loved William.  She wasn’t supposed to, but she did.  She knew they would be able to keep this a secret; she had faith that it wouldn’t affect her future career prospects.  She had to have faith, because if she didn’t, it was all for naught.  If she didn’t have faith, then she really was stupid.

People stared at her as she walked down the street crying, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets.  She barely wiped her tears away, wearing them with pride instead.  They’d freeze to her face eventually, she thought, and then she’d look like an ice queen.  Maybe that would be good for her.  

Aberdeen continued to weave through the streets – turning right, left right, left, left, right – until she happened upon Notre Dame Cathedral Basilica, the famous Catholic Church in Ottawa.  She’d been there before, with her family, when they visited Siena for the first time and Orla dragged everybody there for a Sunday mass.  The cathedral was visually stunning, with its neo-Gothic architecture, classic arches, blue ceiling, and stained-glass windows.  Weirdly, Aberdeen loved ecclesiastical architecture.  It was probably Orla’s influence.  Aberdeen always pictured herself getting married in an old church like this, should she ever get married.  Whenever she was in a Catholic church, she was reminded of her childhood.  Of Orla dragging her and Siena (and when he was born, Camden) to Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Church on Bloor Street West every Sunday.  Of her mom kneeling and praying for her family back in Northern Ireland.  Of attending catechism classes with her classmates so she could receive the Eucharist and have her confirmation.  Of her dad sitting with them and being in church too for all those major milestones even though he had his own faith.  In its own weird way, it reminded her of home, of routine.  The routine of dipping a finger in holy water and bowing, of finding a pew and kneeling for a quick personal prayer.  For standing and singing and kneeling and praying.  Kneeling and praying.  Kneeling and praying.

So it was no wonder, then, that when she entered the cathedral, despite the tourists that lingered throughout the aisles and alcoves taking pictures and lighting candles, it was so easy for her to find the holy water and bow.  It was easy for her to find a pew.  It was easy for her to sit, and to look forward at the altar.  

It was easy for her to cry.

***

Aberdeen cried out everything she had in her in Notre Dame.  It was massively therapeutic.  And when she was done, she took a taxi back to the arena.  

She’d cried so much that her eyes were still red, that her skin was blotchy even where she was wearing makeup and was very blotchy in the places where the tears had washed her makeup away.  She knew she’d probably get asked about it, but she didn’t really care.  She wondered if the men she worked with would even notice.

As she walked through the back corridors and into a room, the first person that she saw was Peter.  Her body stiffened.  She had barely seen him since the All-Star Game – only saw him in passing or from across the arena, really – and she was too scared to ask whether he had switched departments, gotten demoted, or the like.  She hadn’t spoken to him since, and her heart beat rapidly in her chest the second his eyes landed on her.  He probably still wanted to kill her.

That’s why she was thoroughly shocked when he gave her a large smile.  

“How’ve you been?” he asked as he walked towards her.  

“How have I been?  Where have you been?” she asked back, trying not to freak out.  The last time she’d seen him, he’d been so angry.  Now he was acting as if nothing was wrong.  She thought he’d hate to see her and spit over his shoulder the second he saw her.

“We’re going to need to celebrate,” he said, his voice giddy.  “I feel like getting champagne,” he continued, looking around for something to drink.  He saw a bunch of Gatorade bottles and handed one to her before taking one for himself. 

“Uh…okay,” she played along.  The Gatorade would have to do.  “What are we toasting?”

“We are toasting, my dear, to the dream job.  The one that a million people wanted,” he smiled.

Aberdeen was confused.  “Which I got months ago…”

He rolled his eyes playfully.  “I’m not talking about you.”

That piqued her interest.  She narrowed her eyes at him.  “Mhm…go on…”

“Brendan and Kyle invested a lot of time and effort into me.  I came on board basically when Kyle did.  At the beginning I was doing everything – social media, communications, PR, the works,” he began.  “But then there was that opening in hockey operations…and they needed someone they could trust…” he trailed off.

Aberdeen knew about the open job in hockey ops.  They’d received numerous applications.  The opening was a huge deal and people were clamouring at the opportunity because jobs there didn’t come up often.  “Uh huh…”

“And that someone would be me.”

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “You got the hockey ops job?!” she screamed.

“YES!” he screamed out loud.  His giddy laughter and excited little jumps and jitters told Aberdeen he was more than just happy – he was ecstatic.  It was probably a position he wanted more than anything.  “Aberdeen, they even put me up for it!  I mean can you imagine!”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out.  That was some interesting bit of news.  It meant that Brendan and Kyle knew they were going to promote Peter.  But that didn’t matter right now.  All that mattered was how ecstatic Peter was and his new position with the Leafs.  “But…but you’re leaving.  I can’t imagine taking on Brendan and Kyle without you.”

“I know, I know, but I’m so excited though.  This is the first time in almost three years I’m going to be able to call the shots in my job!  Oh my God!” he shrieked.  “I’m going to be able to come to Ottawa, Montreal, New York, Philly, Chicago…and actually be involved in the hockey process.”

He was happy.  So incredibly happy.  And Aberdeen could only be happy for him.  She unscrewed and raised her Gatorade bottle.  “Well, congratulations Peter.  You deserve it.”

“You bet your ass I do,” he giggled, unscrewing his own Gatorade bottle and crashing it against hers.  Aberdeen laughed as they both took their gulps of the drink.  “I’m sorry I got mad at you before the All-Star Game,” he said once he was finished drinking.  “I was really out of line.”

“It’s alright,” she said.  “I knew it meant the world to you.”

“Yeah, but I was really mean,” he said.  “I said you didn’t deserve it, but we both know that you did.  You’ve been working hard since you got here and I was just…you know, being a dick about it.”

“I’ve had worse things said to me,” she shrugged.  An understatement considering where she had just come from.  “But thank you for your apology.”

He held his Gatorade bottle up again.  “To the Toronto Maple Leafs,” he toasted.

Aberdeen smiled, raising her own bottle.  “To the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

***

“So, how was lunch with Siena?” Brendan asked as he went over some last-minute notes before he and Aberdeen would make their way to the press box and meet Kyle for the game.  Knowing that Siena was coming to the game tonight to support her sister was nice.  Aberdeen made it adamantly clear her sister wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of hockey, but was coming to the game to support her more than anything.  That was fine with Brendan.  

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  She’d hoped Brendan wouldn’t ask about it because she still wasn’t over it.  “I ended up going to church.”

He looked at her skeptically.  “Church?”

“I got into a fight with my sister,” she explained curtly.

“About what?”

Aberdeen shook her head.  Like she was going to tell him.  “Not important.”

“Well…what made you go to church?” he pressed.  He seemed genuinely concerned about the fact that she’d gone to a house of worship after fighting with her sister.  Had it been that bad?  

Aberdeen knew he was curious because he was worried, not curious because he wanted to pry.  Because of that, she knew she had to choose her words carefully as to not reveal too much but also not reveal too little so that he’d ask more questions.  She couldn’t find them.  She didn’t know what to say to him without it leading to her giving it all away and getting fired on the spot.  “I just needed some semblance of…normalcy back in my life after the fight,” she said, knowing Brendan wouldn’t understand.  

“Aberdeen, I have absolutely no clue what that means,” he deadpanned jokingly, causing her to giggle slightly.  “But if church helped…well, good,” he said, focusing back on his notes.

Aberdeen nodded.  She wanted the topic of conversation to be dropped, and she knew the best way to do that.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She knew it was going to come out as a statement more than a question.  “You and Kyle…you guys knew you were promoting Peter to the hockey ops position.”

“Yes…”  He was still looking down at his notes, and he wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“So why’d you make me tell him about the All-Star Game?”

Brendan stopped focusing on his notes, instead looking at Aberdeen.  He knew that she wasn’t accusing him of anything, and not complaining that she had to do what she did; she just wanted answers.  Apparently she’d seen Peter.  Apparently they’d talked.  “So Peter told you we put him up for the hockey ops job, then,” he started.

“He did.”

Brendan nodded his head.  “We needed to toughen you up, Aberdeen.”

It was Aberdeen’s turn to look at Brendan skeptically.  “Toughen me up?”

“Listen—don’t get me wrong, because you’ve been doing a great job,” Brendan began.  “But you…you need to do things that make you uncomfortable, Aberdeen.  You know…uh…” he was trying to find the right words.  “You know how a glowstick needs to be cracked in order to shine?”

“That’s literally the weirdest analogy I’ve ever heard anyone make,” she said.

“You needed to crack a bit,” he said firmly.  “You needed to break someone’s heart.  This is a tough business and this is a tough world and it’ll happen to you too.  And I want you to be prepared to have to do those sorts of things.  Because you’ll be successful once you leave here and you’ll have to do them.  You’ll thank me later.”

Judging by his tone, Aberdeen knew Brendan wasn’t going to entertain any other options.  She couldn’t say anything to make him think otherwise.  “Okay…well, then I think you’ll be happy to know that I broke his heart when I told him he wasn’t going to the All-Star Game.  And you and Kyle put it back together by promoting him.”

“I know that,” he said.  He looked down at his notes one more time before pushing his chair back.  “Now let’s go.”

***

Are they playing well?  I wouldn’t know.

Aberdeen stared at the text message from Siena as she sat in the back of the press box, Brendan and Kyle watching the game intently and in full view of the cameras.  She was surprised Siena still came after the afternoon they’d had.  There was less than five minutes left in the first period, and Auston had already scored.  She didn’t know if she should respond.  She wondered if that made her a bad sister.

When the buzzer rang for the end of the period, Brendan swiveled in his chair and looked back at her.  “Is Siena here?” he asked.  Aberdeen nodded her head.  “Go find her.”

“But you asked me to—”

“Go find her and go talk to her,” he interrupted, giving her a look.  “Go.”

Aberdeen got up from her seat, her credentials jingling down the hallway as she texted Siena back.  

Where are you sitting?

They put me six rows behind the Leafs bench.  Section 106.  Can you come meet me right outside the tunnel?

By the time Aberdeen got there (she speed walked so they had more time together, so what?), Siena was already waiting.  When Siena saw her, she stuffed her phone into her pocket.  “Were you up in the box?” she asked.

“I always am.”

Siena nodded, staying quiet for a moment.  “Listen…I…I’m sorry about today,” she said, stumbling over her words a bit.  “I was…my comments were really uncalled for, and I shouldn’t have like, you know, accused you of sleeping with William behind your boss’s back.”

Aberdeen nodded her head once, curtly, to make Siena abundantly clear that she hadn’t forgiven her just yet.  Could she forgive her, really, when she was keeping the biggest secret from her?  “Do you want to tell me what the little outburst was really about?” she asked.

Siena pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest.  She looked down at the floor.  “It’s nothing.”

“Siena.”

She sighed heavily.  “It’s a guy,” she mumbled out.

“What?”

“A guy,” she said dramatically.

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “A guy?!” she barely had the words.  “What guy?  What…what guy?!”

Siena looked like she was about to throw a mini temper tantrum for having to reveal the information.  “There was this guy, Aaron…he was just in one of my classes, and we had this…this thing going on for the past few months.  Anyways, uh, I found out he was also hooking up with Sylvie the entire time and they’re all Instagram official already.”

“Sylvie?!” Aberdeen deadpanned.  “Like…Gatineau Sylvie?  Blonde Sylvie?  Sylvie who we partied with Sylvie?”

“Yes, that Sylvie,” Siena rolled her eyes.  “Knockout Sylvie.  Drop dead gorgeous Sylvie.  Only in law school so her parents don’t cut her off financially Sylvie.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows in anger.  Sylvie had been so nice when Aberdeen had come to visit last year, and had bought her drinks at the club…and now to hear she’d done this to Siena?  And had been doing it for months?  Aberdeen was livid.  “Well fuck that bitch,” she barked.  “And fuck Aaron, too.”

“Now I know how you felt when Zane did that to you,” Siena bit her lip.  “But you guys were together for like, a year.  Aaron and I were just hooking up.”

“Still,” Aberdeen was still upset.  “Fuck that guy.  Fuck them both.  Fuck them all.  He doesn’t deserve you if he’s gonna be sneaking around on you, hooking up with Sylvie and whoever else.  You dodged a bullet.  You’re too pretty and too smart to be bogged down by such a fuckboy.”

Siena was quiet.  Aberdeen tried to figure out whether she was going to cry or roll her eyes, but she couldn’t.  With Siena looking at the floor, it was almost impossible.  When she finally looked back up, her expression was much more neutral.  Gentler.  “I wish I had your sense of loyalty, Aberdeen,” Siena said softly.  “Really.  I do.  It’s one of your best qualities.  You…you have my back no matter what.”

“Of course I do,” Aberdeen said.  “You’re my sister.”

Siena nodded her head.  “I know it might not seem like it, especially after the lunch we had, but I always have your back, too,” she said.  “I hope you know that.  I’d do anything for you.”

Aberdeen was silent as she considered her sister’s words.  They fought like any sisters did, but deep know, she knew.  Aberdeen knew her sister would do anything for her, and she would do the same.  “I know.”

“Can you forgive me for lunch?”

Aberdeen nodded reluctantly.  There was nothing to forgive when her sister was right about her assumptions.  “I forgive you,” she said.  She watched as a bunch of fans made their way through the tunnel and into the arena back to their seats.  “Listen, I have to get back.  But I’ll meet you after the game, okay?  Go to those doors over there,” she pointed behind her to the same doors she came through to meet her.

“Okay.  I’ll see you,” Siena nodded, watching as Aberdeen disappeared through the door.

***

William scored in the second period, making Aberdeen convinced he was just trying to show off since he knew Siena was watching.  Hell, he could probably see her from the bench.  With the Leafs winning 4-2, Aberdeen was happy.  But there was barely any time to celebrate.  Everybody had to get ready to leave as soon as possible so they could get on the plane and fly to Buffalo.

It was why Aberdeen was dragging Siena through the back corridors eagerly.  “Where are you bringing me?” Siena asked.

“You need some eye candy to take your mind off Aaron,” Aberdeen said.  

“So you’re bringing me to meet an old man?”

Aberdeen snorted.  Brendan was three years younger than their dad.  “Not quite.”

As they turned a corner, they came head to head with some of the guys, walking in and out of the locker room, their shirts half buttoned, their ties undone, some of them still in their hockey pants, topless.  Siena stopped dead in her tracks.  “Aberdeen—”

“—Feast your eyes—"

“—Aberdeen, I shouldn’t be here.  I shouldn’t…oh…oh my,” Siena gasped like an old Southern woman as her eyes landed on a topless Pierre Engvall across the room.  “Oh my God you could have told me!” she pinched Aberdeen.  “I could have dressed nicer!”

“Hello.”  Siena jumped dramatically, turning around to see William behind her.  She calmed down when she recognized him.  “How are things?” he asked, his voice low so no-one else would hear.  

“Fine, thanks,” Siena’s voice was equally as low.

He stood up straight more and extended his hand.  “I’m William, it’s nice to meet you.  Siena, you said?”

Siena was taken aback for a second before she realized what William was doing.  She wasn’t supposed to know who he was.  She wasn’t supposed to be familiar with him.  “Hi.  Y—Yes,” she stuttered out, shaking his hand.  “I’m Siena, Aberdeen’s older sister.”

“Hey!  Who’s the stranger?” Auston called out from inside the locker room, looking at them standing in the doorway.  

“This is my sister, Matthews,” Aberdeen answered, saying it loud enough so the whole locker room would hear.

Most of the guys approached to shake her hand.  Jason came up first, then Rasmus, then John and Freddie.  Aberdeen didn’t think Siena would get starstruck by hockey players, but she apparently was, stuttering out hellos and pleasant conversations with the men.  Aberdeen couldn’t help but giggle.  “Jesus, Aberdeen,” Siena whispered eventually when nobody approached them and they were alone.  “Are they around like this all the time?”

Aberdeen smiled.  “You don’t know the half of it.”

It was at that point that Auston approached them, giving Siena a quick but flirty up-down that Siena didn’t catch but Aberdeen did.  “This is your sister?” he asked, extending his hand and getting Siena’s attention.  

“Yes, she’s my sister.”

“You guys don’t look like sisters,” he commented.

“I got much more of our dad’s Persian features,” Siena said, shaking his hand.  Aberdeen had rolled her eyes – as if she hadn’t heard that comment before about them not looking like sisters.  “I’m Siena.”

“Siena.  I’m Auston,” he smiled.

Aberdeen rolled her eyes playfully.  “Go flirt with Willy, Auston.  You didn’t get with Kasha and you’re definitely not getting with my sister.”

Auston furrowed his brows at her playfully.  “Get a life, Aberdeen,” he said before sticking his tongue out.  “I hope you liked the game,” he said to Siena before walking away.

Siena was about to whisper something to Aberdeen, but then noticed the man from before making his way towards them.  Her breath hitched in her throat and her entire body seized up.  Aberdeen almost burst out laughing then and there.  “Hello.  I’m Pierre,” Pierre Engvall extended his hand for Siena to shake.  “You’re Aberdeen’s sister?”

Aberdeen had to nudge her sister to get her to respond.  She jerked her hand out to shake Pierre’s.  “Hi!  Yes yes, I’m Aberdeen’s sister, Siena.  It’s nice you meet you Pierre.”

“Did you enjoy the game?” he asked.

“Yes.  Yes.  You guys played so well.  I mean I don’t watch hockey much but—”

“Have you been to a game in Toronto?” he asked.

“No—I mean, not yet.”

“Well you should come.  I’m sure Aberdeen could get you a ticket,” he smiled.

Before the flirt fest could go on any longer, Rasmus screamed something in Swedish at him, and Pierre laughed.  “It was nice to you meet you Siena,” he said before walking away, punching Rasmus on the arm.

Siena looked at Aberdeen.  Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head.  “Good God almighty, that man just made me sweat like a whore in church.”

Aberdeen snorted.  “Don’t tell that to mom.”

[anastpaul]

Saint of the Day – 21 May – St Eugene de Mazenod O.M.I. (1782-1861) Priest, Bishop, Founder of the Oblates of Mary Immaculate, Evangeliser, Missionary Preacher, Apostle of the poor and marginalised – born Charles-Joseph-Eugène de Mazenod on 1 August 1782 at Aix-en-Provence, southern France and died on 21 May 1861 at Marseille, France of cancer.   When his body was exhumed in 1936 it was found to be incorrupt.   Patronages – refugees, missionaries, families.

Eugene de Mazenod was born into an aristocratic family, on 1 August 1782 and baptised the following day in the Église de la Madeleine in Aix-en-Provence.   His father, Charles Antoine de Mazenod, was one of the Presidents of the Court of Finances and his mother was Marie Rose Joannis.   Eugene began his schooling at the College Bourbon but this was interrupted by the events of the French Revolution.   With the approach of the French revolutionary forces, the family was forced to flee to Italy.   Image below - St Eugene aged 5.

He became a boarder at the College of Nobles in Turin but a move to Venice meant the end to formal schooling.   With their money running out, Eugene’s father was forced to seek various employments, none of which were successful.   His mother and sister returned to France – eventually seeking a divorce so as to be able to regain their property that had been seized.   Eugene was fortunate to be welcomed by the Zinelli family in Venice.   This is how it happened:

One day when Eugene was playing at the window of his house, Fr Bartolo Zinelli (1766-1803) appeared on the other side of the street and asked him, “Are you not afraid of wasting your time?” “Alas, responded Eugene, it is really awful, but what can I do?   I am a foreigner here without any books available to me.”  “Well, then”, replied Don Bartolo, “I am right in my library at the moment and here I have many books in Latin, Italian and French.”   Having said this, he took up the stick that was used to bar the shutters and put a book on it and passed it over the narrow, approximately one and one half meter street.

After having read the book, Eugene, following the advice of his father, went to Don Bartolo’s house to thank him for this kind gesture.  “Well,” said Don Bartolo, “do you see this lovely library?   All of these books are available to you as well.”   Then, Don Bartolo showed Eugene his study where he and his brother Don Pietro used to study and told him, “You can take the place here of my younger brother who has died.”   Eugene could not contain his joy.   “Well, then, you can begin tomorrow already.”

Fr Bartolo Zinelli  took special care of Eugene and saw to his education in the well-provided family library where the young adolescent spent many hours each day and was a major influence in the human, academic and spiritual development of Eugene.

Once again the French army chased the émigrés from Venice, forcing Eugene and his father and two uncles to seek refuge in Naples for less than a year and, finally, to flee to Palermo in Sicily.   Here Eugene was invited to become part of the household of the Duke and Duchess of Cannizaro as a companion to their two sons.   Being part of the high society of Sicily became the opportunity for Eugene to rediscover his noble origins and to live a lavish style of life.   He took to himself the title of ‘Comte’ (“Count”) de Mazenod, did all the courtly things and dreamed of a bright future.

Spiritual journey of conversion At the age of twenty, Eugene returned to France and lived with his mother in Aix en Provence.   Initially he enjoyed all the pleasures of Aix as a rich young nobleman, intent on the pursuit of pleasure and money – and a rich girl who would bring a good dowry. Gradually he became aware of how empty his life was and began to search for meaning in more regular church involvement, reading and personal study and charitable work among prisoners.   His journey came to a climax on Good Friday, 1807 when he was 25 years old.   Looking at the sight of the Cross, he had a religious experience.   The sight of the oblation of Jesus on the Cross, with his arms outstretched in love, led Eugene to respond in love:  “What more glorious occupation than to act in everything and for everything only for God, to love Him above all else, to love Him all the more as one who has loved Him too late.”

Priest In 1808, he expressed his desire for dedication to Jesus the Saviour by beginning his studies for the priesthood at the Saint-Sulpice Seminary in Paris and was ordained a priest at Amiens (Picardy), on 21 December 1811.    Since Napoleon had expelled the Sulpician priest from the seminary, Eugene stayed on as a formator for a semester.   As a member of the Seminary, notwithstanding personal risk, Eugene committed himself to serve and assist Pope Pius VII, who at this time was a prisoner of emperor Napoleon I at Fontainebleau.   In this way, he experienced at firsthand, the suffering of the post-Revolutionary Church.

On his return to Aix, Father de Mazenod asked not to be assigned to a parish but to dedicate himself fully to evangelising those who were not being touched by the structures of the local church:  the poor who spoke only the Provençal language, prisoners, youth, the inhabitants of poor villages who were ignorant of their faith.   His constant message was, to invite people to enter into the same experience of Jesus, that he had at his conversion.   Looking at everyone and every situation through the eyes of the Saviour, he showed the poor the human and spiritual dignity that was theirs and taught them how to live in relationship with the Saviour.   The goal of his priestly preaching and ministry was always to lead others to develop themselves fully as humans, then as Christians and finally to become saints.

Oblates of Mary Immaculate On 25 January 1816, “impelled by a strong impulse from outside of himself” he invited other priests to join him in his life of total oblation to God and to the most abandoned of Provence.   Initially called “Missionaries of Provence,” they dedicated themselves to evangelization through preaching parish missions in the poor villages, youth and prison ministry.   In 181, a second community was established, at the Marian shrine of Notre Dame du Laus.   This became the occasion for the missionaries to become a religious congregation, united through vows and the evangelical counsels.   Changing their name to Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate, the group received papal approbation on 17 February 1826.

Foreign Missions In 1841, Bishop Bourget of Montreal invited the Oblates to Canada.   At the same time there was an outreach to the British Isles.   This was the beginning of an inspiring history of missionary outreach to the most abandoned peoples in Canada, United States, Mexico, England and Ireland, Algeria, Southern Africa and Ceylon during the Founder’s lifetime. In 200 years this zeal spread and took root in the establishment of the Oblates in nearly 70 countries.

Bishop

From 1837 to 1861, he was the Bishop of Marseille, in Provence (south-eastern France). During his episcopacy, he commissioned Notre-Dame de la Garde (image below), an ornate Neo-Byzantine basilica on the south side of the old port of Marseille  . He inspired local priest Joseph-Marie Timon-David to found the Congregation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in Marseille in 1852.

Towards the end of his life, Eugene had become very free.   Faced with the prospect of the Cardinalate which had been promised and which slipped away from him because of political considerations, he had this to say:  “After all, it is all the same whether one is buried in a red cassock or a purple one;  the main thing is that the bishop gets to heaven”.

Shortly before his death on May 21, 1861, in keeping with his temperament, the elderly and seriously ill bishop said to those around him:  “Should I happen to doze off, or if I appear to be getting worse, please wake me up!   I want to die knowing that I am dying”. His last words to the Oblates were a testament that summed up his life:  “Practice well among yourselves charity, charity, charity and outside, zeal for the salvation of souls”.   Saint Eugene died on Pentecost Sunday, to the prayer of the Salve Regina.   It was his final salute on earth to the one he considered as the “Mother of the Mission”.

St Eugene was Beatified on 19 October 1975 by Blessed Pope Paul VI and Canonised on 3 December 1995 by Sr Pope John Paul II.

21 May 2017 – more info from Vatican Resources on St Eugene:  https://anastpaul.wordpress.com/2017/05/21/saint-of-the-day-21-may-st-eugene-de-mazenod-o-m-i/

Above -  On the 150th anniversary of the Death of St Eugene in the Basilica he built, Notre-Dame de la Garde. Marseilles

[mixandmatcha]

The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo

Here are five good points that I can share about the novel of Victor Hugo which is “The Hunchback of Notre Dame”. 

1.       The setting shows the culture in Paris

The story was set in 1480’s in Paris. There are some establishments mentioned in the story such as palace and church. The cathedral of Notre Dame is one of the largest and famous church buildings in the Catholic Church in France. This is where Quasimodo, the main character in the story lives. He is the bell ringer and the hunchback of Notre Dame. There are holidays that are mentioned in the novel such as: Epiphany and the Festival of Fools. Epiphany is held on every 6th of January and it is known to most Christians as the arrival of the Three Kings. The festivals mirror the tradition and culture of France.

2.       The character of La Esmeralda

La Esmeralda has a pet goat named Djali. La Esmeralda is a beautiful young gypsy girl who loves to dance and carries a tambourine and a goat. She is kind, selfless, and brave. Why kind? First, La Esmeralda helped a man named Gringoire. Gringoire reached ‘The Court of Miracles’ where robbers and bandits live. He was about to get hanged when no one wanted to marry him. Luckily, La Esmeralda came and she stopped the man from dying when she married him. Next instance is when Quasimodo was tortured in public. He asked for water but the people ignored and suddenly, La Esmeralda came to bring him a bottle of water even though Quasimodo did something not so good to her. She did not judge Quasimodo based on his appearance. La Esmeralda is selfless because she cared so much to Phoebus, she even confessed to sins that she did not commit such as witchcraft, fornication, and the murder of Phoebus de Chateaupers. That’s why she was sentenced to be hanged at the Place de Greve. La Esmeralda is brave enough to face the consequences of the deeds. Also, she fights Claude Frollo who has bad intentions to her.

 3.       Issues that we can compare to today’s time

Some novels depict how beautiful the world is, or even give happy endings, but this novel is somehow different from the stereotype. First, the people make fun of Quasimodo because of his extraordinary appearance. He became pope of fools for he has the ugliest face and body. If we were to compare it in the 21st century, this kind of festival is not allowed because it will be the cause of bullying. Next is, the beggars who were covered with sores at daytime but becomes thieves at night. This also show the situation wherein some people tend to be poor and pitiful but they have other intentions. Another one is the poor judgments. When Quasimodo was in the courtroom, the judge interrogated him and he was not able to hear the question because he was deaf. While the judge is also deaf and he kept on interrogating Quasimodo and the people in the courtroom burst into laughter. The judge was offended because he thought Quasimodo said something disrespectful. He sentenced Quasimodo to be flogged at the Place de Greve. This situation shows that justice cannot be attained in some circumstances. There is no special treatment on people with disabilities in the medieval times. Those are only few comparisons of the society and we see hi much society has changed in some aspects.

 4.       The Character of Claude Frollo and his relationship with Quasimodo

 Claude Frollo took care of his younger brother, Jehan when they became orphans. He became a mother to him and eventually, became a priest at the age of twenty. Because of his love for Jehan, Claude Frollo adopted and baptized a child and named him Quasimodo. He made Quasimodo the bell ringer of the bells of Notre Dame, Also he teached Quasimodo how to speak, to read, and to write. He equally loved his brother and Quasimodo. Claude Frollo also became the archdeacon incharge of two deanships and one hundred and seventy-four priests. Claude Frollo, the priest is madly in love with La Esmeralda, the gypsy girl. On the night of the festival, he ordered Quasimodo to take her by force and Quasimodo obliges. Quasimodo is very loyal to his master because he thought of the deeds that the priest did to him. Claude Frollo became evil and his love for La Esmeralda grew bigger to the point that he almost killed the man La Esmeralda loved which is Captain Phoebus. He tried to take advantage of La Esmeralda several times and he failed. He then felt angry and when La Esmeralda was caught and hanged, he laughed but Quasimodo saw it and he pushed the priest and watched him fall from a height of more than two hundred feet and he died. Quasimodo then felt regretful because of his sudden actions and all of his loved ones were gone in a blike of an eye.

  5.       The novel gives moral lessons that can be stored in our hearts and minds.

 There are a lot of real life situations in the novel and it gives us of moral lessons. This novel teaches us that the most unlikely hero can be found in all of us. For example, Quasimodo helped La Esmeralda to not get hanged because her inside the church. It is said that a prisoner within the walls of the cathedral of Notre Dame was untouchable and could not be arrested. Quasimodo maybe deaf but he was not blind. When La Esmeralda gave him a bottle of water, he remembered her and helped because she had given her help in the first place. Humans tend to help each other in times of need especially when the person who needs help did something great to you. Remember to pay off the so called “debt of gratitude”. It is very important because sometimes, we forget the people who help us in times of need. Some people always help without asking for anything in return. There are more lessons that we can acquire from the novel. Try to find out by reading it yourself! Have Fun! :)

[callmeakumatized]

This Does Not Define You

(( So, Author’s Note or whatever first, because this is so important.

PSA: Thomas Astruc was asked through a tweet if he would consider putting in a character in the show who had Asperger's, to which he replied: "If you watch carefully the show, you may already find one."

And then I saw someone talking about October 10th being Disability Awareness Day.

And while I haven't found anything else mentioning this day, I couldn't let this opportunity to pass up…and here's why: You need to know that your "disability" does NOT define WHO you are or WHAT you can do.

I live with depression and "debilitating" anxiety. Some days are better than others, and, in fact, I have felt more myself in these last few months than I have in the last 5+ years. But there were dark days. I'm a suicide survivor. Twice, at two very different parts of my life. The second time I had to literally be "babysat" constantly for about a month and half. It was horrible. But I wouldn't trade that for anything, because it helped me grow into the person I am now. Now I'm on medication. And at first, I was embarrassed. People talk about disabilities as physical, mental, learning, etc., and part of those include things like Autism, Asperger's, Anxiety, and Depression. And I heard people talk about depression as a mental illness, a mental disease, and I felt dirty. People ask, "Why are you so sad? You have nothing to be sad about!" And I'm like, "Why am I so sad? What is wrong with me?"

But here's the thing that my awesome doctor helped me with. He calls this my diabetes. Sounds weird, right? But listen. If I had diabetes, it would be just something I have, an imbalance in my system that needs medication to keep me going, to keep me alive. This depression is the same way. It's not my fault. I didn't do anything to make this happen. It's just a part of me, something that can't be helped.

So, to finish this PSA, I have some words of advice: It's OK. It's OK to have a "disability". It's OK to not. It's OK to be yourself, even if you don't really know what that is right now. You don't have to have the answers, the "whys" to everything to be able to live a good life. And you are worth living a good life. For your loved ones, sure, but most importantly, really, for you.

Go talk to a doctor, please don't try to self-diagnose. Those docs are there to help. Really!

One more note: If you are feeling depressed, anxious, or just…off…talk to someone. A friend, a family member, your doctor, anyone.

If you don't have anyone to talk to, you can always talk to me. My e-mail is callmeakumatized AT gmail DOT com. (I know, original, right?)

And if you suspect someone might be having troubles, or suicidal thoughts, be that person to ask them how they're doing.

I love you all. Thanks for reading this, and please spread the word, share a hug, and spread the love. *hearts*

-Maki ))

"There's nothing more to do!" Ladybug almost yelled out. Her speech, though technically directed to Chat Noir, was let loose into the open Parisian air. Ladybug ran her hands through her hair, stalking around the rooftop, breathing becoming more labored by the moment. Chat hung back for a moment. Not because he didn't care, but because he did. He cared so much, he knew to hang onto every word, listening for true source of her distress so he could know how to perfectly help his Lady.

"I mean, Chat…they just expect so much of us…" Ladybug drew out, looking up to him momentarily. "The Mayor, the press, Paris…the world. What more do they want? We sacrifice everything for them – everything! How many years has it been? Years, Chat! Six? Seven?"

"Seven," Chat confirmed, recognizing her need for a direct answer here.

"Seven. Years. And we wasted how many dancing around each other?"

"Five."

Ladybug fisted her hands together before immediately relinquishing them. "Hawk Moth is gone. Vixen and Bee are here now, helping out. These people…they just…they just expect so much more than I feel like I can give them, Chat."

Point one.

With tears in her eyes, Ladybug looked up to Chat, her short hair ruffled slightly by the wind.

"Chat…what else do they expect us to put on hold?"

Point two.

"How are we…how are we supposed to live? I want…I want a life with you, Chat…Adrien. I want to just be with you."

Point three.

Marinette was worried about their plans for the future…and she was worried about failing in the eyes of her beloved Paris, and her beloved partner. Those were the three main points, though it didn't seem like that was really…it. As she paused in her soliloquy, every fear and emotion that had been trapped inside breaking through in tearful release, Chat moved forward to envelop her in his arms. She started to sob lightly into his chest. He placed a kiss into her hair, thinking how best to word his reply while committing every passionate word she uttered to memory.

"Marinette, there is nothing you could ever do that would be a disappointment to this city." He took a breath, deciding how best to word his next thought. "And if the pressure is too much…quit. Hawk Moth is gone, our job is done. You stood for this city for years…you're allowed to live a life." Lightly pushing her back so he could look into the eyes he loved so much, Chat continued in a more hushed tone. "And I would give up every one of my nine lives just to have the privilege to spend one with you."

"I don't deserve this."

"What?"

Ladybug sighed. "I'm not…I'm not whole, Chat. You know that. That's why we're here. That's why I'm ranting to nothing and for no reason and rambling and can't make up my mind about anything. And you…you're whole. You're complete."

"Don't, don't do that Marinette. The only way I would ever be whole is by being with you. I told you that when we stood across from each other at the altar, and you know I would never lie to you, Bugaboo."

Despite herself, a small, small smile flickered to Ladybug's lips. As fast as it appeared, though, it vanished. A tear-filled grimace replaced it immediately.

"Asperger's, Chat. I have Asperger's. What if…what i-if our…our kids –"

"Don't you mean our kittens?"

"Ha! No." Ladybug sighed, shaking her head before pulling away from Chat and turning away. "What if our kids have Asperger's too? O-Or something else, because of me, because of my –" Ladybug faltered here, wringing her hands together.

Ladybug was strong, but Marinette was stronger. Adrien had seen all sides of her for the past seven years, and loved each and every piece of her completely. She was always prone to freak-outs, or getting stuck on a subject, or maybe, perhaps, being a little too aggressive at times, whether against an Akuma or something less threatening. When a doctor had put a name to the "disability", Marinette had been glad at first, thinking things would change. What happened, however, was a shy girl filled with anxiety second-guessing herself even more, closing herself off from the world. That was when she had finally reached out to Chat. Or, rather, Chat Noir cornered her one day when he caught Ladybug sobbing in the shadows at the top of Notre Dame.

She had confessed everything. Everything. And she expected him to treat her differently. When he made no indication of doing so…that's when the real path to "healing" began.

Healing meaning Marinette being as accepting of herself as she was to everyone else.

And now they were here, at the true source of his precious lady's distress. And he would be there for her as he always was, as she always had and would be for him.

"Because of what, Marinette?" Chat asked gently, bringing their wondering minds back into the conversation again. "Because of something you see as a disability? So our kids might have Asperger's Syndrome. Would you love them less?"

"No, of course not. I just…I just don't want them to have to live this way."

"So you have Asperger's, Marinette. And I was raised by Hawk Moth."

"Completely unrelated."

"No, they're not." Chat took a step closer to Ladybug, taking one of her hands in his. "They are both things we were born into. Things that were and are and always will be things we can't change, things beyond our control. And both are things that we could easily let change or define us but we don't. You are and always have been more than you realize."

"More what?" Ladybug turned her small frame to face her husband's more fully, pulling the loose hair around her face out of her eyes, the hand holding her hair resting on the side of her face.

"Just more. You have more strength, more resilience, more courage –"

At this Ladybug shook her head. "I'm always scared, Adrien."

"So am I." Chat put a hand on her chin and lifted her face to his. She needed to hear his next words. He needed her to hear them. "Being scared doesn't make you a coward, Marinette. Running away does. But courage can only come from being scared in the first place and pushing forward anyway. Courage is the embodiment of –"

"Of Ladybug," Ladybug scoffed, pulling her head away. Chat grabbed her back, a hand on both sides of her face.

"Of Marinette," he iterated pointedly. "Ladybug, in turn, is the embodiment of Marinette. You were born as you, as the beautiful, perfect you. You chose everything after that, including the choice to be Ladybug."

Chat leaned forward and kissed Ladybug's forehead before leaning his own forehead against hers. "I love you, Marinette. You. And if our kid-tens are even one tenth of anything and everything that makes up you, they will be the luckiest kids in the whole world." He chuckled slightly, moving closer to her and wrapping his arms around her in a snug embrace. "Which makes sense, considering who their mother is."

Marinette hummed in contemplation. After a minute to digest his words, she muttered quietly into his shoulder, "Do you really mean that?"

Chat didn't even hesitate for a second. "Of course I do."

Chat suppressed his own sigh of relief when he felt the form of his darling, precious wife relax in his arms.

After another minute, Chat couldn't help the contented purr as his beloved returned his embrace, wrapping her strong, lithe arms around his own. She was so strong in so many ways. The tears were there before he could stop them, and Chat nuzzled his head into the crook of her shoulder and neck as he sniffled with thick emotion.

"Kid-tens?" Ladybug questioned after another moment. Both frames of husband and wife shook slightly before giving way to real peals of laughter.

The sun was setting over Paris, over their city, as the two heroes leaned on each other in more ways than one.

Currently it was to hold themselves up through fits of tear-streaked laughter.

"Hahahaha Chat, I'm pregnant!"

Chat froze mid-laugh to check his Lady's face.

"You're…?"

"Yes."

"But…I…kitten…?"

"Baby, yes."

"Ooohh, baby!"

Chat grinned, giggled giddily, and promptly passed out.

Not for the first time, Ladybug rushed over to the fallen form of Chat Noir. This time, though, he hadn't just taken a hit for her, he had shown her more the full extent of the barrier of protection he had slowly built for her over the years, brick by brick. It was all-encompassing, protecting her wholly from the outside, and – more expressly special to her – from herself, from getting in her own way.

There would never be enough ways to express her love for this cat-man.

…Except maybe to have his kid-tens.

They weren't perfect by any means, but they were perfect together, "disabilities" or no.

Fin!

[eponineinthebarricade]

Notre Dame de Paris au/fic Enjonine

@viridescentlights This was an abandoned project before you urged me to work on it and I thank you Enjolras. It may seem like a bizarre fanfic but i know you’ll like it. Beware it is quite long. 

Chapter 1-

Javert was a gypsy.

Bare-footed, his brown hair wild in the wind, his grey eyes surveying the street. His tambour in his hand, he swayed his hips back and forth. His movements graceful, captured the attention of parisiens.

One stomp two claps, one turn, an arch of back and a split. By the time he was done, his cap where he had thrown in front of him to collect coins were full. He straightened his back and bowed down before reaching down and taking his cap.

He smirked.

A patter of feet drew his attention away from the coins. Two small arms wrapped around his leg. He bend down to look at the small brunette girl.

"Hello Éponine."

She looked up to him with her big brown eyes and smiled.

"Hi dad."

Javert wrapped his arms around Éponine's waist and lifted her to rest on his shoulders.

"Are we going home daddy?"

"Yes we are my darling."

And they started to walk towards their lair, a lair where all gypsies went, a secret lair where miracles happened.

***

Five years ago during a particular winter's night, a child's sob echoed through the streets. This sob was shaking her whole frail little body.

By chance a young and a dashing lad, only nineteen years old was hurrying to get to his home when he was struck by this sob. He turned his back and started following the voice. His speed increased as he became closer and closer to the source.

He turned the corner and froze. There was a little brunette girl, no older than five. She was clutching a boy and a girl, far more little than herself. Two adults were lying near her. All of them, dead.

He approached the girl slowly, not wanting to frighten her. His footsteps made the girl look up. She made a futile attempt to back away from the lad. Javert raised his hands in an attempt to show his innocence.

"It's alright. I am not gonna hurt you."

The little girl was glaring at her, defiance shining in her eyes.

"Stay away from me." Her voice was raspy from crying, her eyes red.

Javert stopped in front of her and crouched down, careful not to crush the dead children.

"Who did this?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"Because I am your only chance at surviving."

"...It was judge Felix Tholomylès."

Javert gasped, his eyes widening as he took in the massacre Felix had ordered to be committed. He reached down to brush the golden locks of the dead boy away from his forehead.

The girl grimaced.

"He was only three."

Javert turned his sad eyes to the girl.

"How did you survive?"

"I ran away fast enough. I couldn't protect them. I lost every member of my family."

"Well now you have a new family, I am going to take care of you. But tell me your name first."

After some hesitation the girl opened her mouth and two words left her mouth:

"Éponine Thénardier" .

That night Javert brought Éponine to his lair, gave her food and shelter. Poor child traumatised, curled up to Javert.

The first night passed with nightmares,then the second and the third. Before he knew Javert grew fond of Éponine, and after their first year together, Éponine started calling him "Dad".

This was all five years ago, now Éponine was ten and Javert was twenty four. They passed their days on the streets of Paris, gaining coins to get by. Occasionally in poor days, they resulted into stealing, these were the days where Javert would be grouchy; gypsy or not he was still respecting the laws.

They didn't have a clue that their whole life would be a lot more different after their last mishap.

Chapter 2-

Seasons turned from autumn, to winter, winter to spring and finally summer. The streets were buzzing, Paris was alive. The voice of people from every kind, from beggars to riches were all resonating from the city.

The church bells were ringing, the cobblestone roads were vibrating from the stomp of every feet. The doors of Notre Dame opened and out came the bishop, Jean Valjean. Like everyone, he decided to savour the sunlight and take a walk. As the whole city knew him he was met with smiling faces.

He purchased some baguette and some madeleines, he had a sweet tooth after all. As he turned back to smell some flowers and give some charity to the beggars, his eyes caught of a movement in his peripheral vision.

A young lad with chestnut hair and grey eyes was dancing. No not dancing. He was almost floating. Entranced by his movements, he approached the lad watching him. That's when he saw the little girl next to him, dancing, trying to keep up with the rhythm. A soft smile grazed Valjean's lips as he watched the pair. Javert knew the bishop was watching, he met his eyes and winked at him playfully. In return the bishop shook his head, heat rising to his cheeks.

That's when he heard horses galloping towards them and voices of the fellow guardsmen.

"Gypsies! Get them!"

Javert stopped dancing and grabbed Éponine, throwing her over his shoulder. He met the Bishop's eyes and dashed not looking back. Valjean, scared for the pair managed to distract the guards long enough so they could flee.

In the evening, he saw the pair again, this time dashing towards the cathedral. Felix Tholomylès himself was behind them. Now we all would expect a bishop to be a slow and calm fellow but Jean was no ordinary bishop. He grabbed the hems of his robe and ran after them with surprising speed.

Javert pushed opened the doors with his shoulder screaming for sanctuary. The nuns scrambled to his aid, pulling him inside while Valjean blocked the door from Felix.

"Get away Felix! He has sanctuary!"

Judge Felix sneered at Jean, a scowl permanently etched onto his face.

"He can't hide there forever, I will get him." then he left just like that.

Jean Valjean went inside to see a crying Éponine who was clutching Javert's shirt.

"Daddy I thought I was going to lose you!"  

"Darling you will never lose me, I will always be with you." the little girl continued to sniff and cry. Unbeknown to them, she still had flashbacks from her family's slaughter,and seeing the judge again she was afraid that she would lose this man she has come to know as a father.

Jean's heart broke as he heard the child's broken voice. He went over them and crouched down their level. Javert turned his head to him and smiled.

"Thank you father. We owe our lives to you."

"No need to thank me monsieur, everyone has the right for sanctuary."

"Not us gypsies."

"Why not? You are humans like us, you deserve this, especially earning your lives on the street, you need more protection than us."

Javert was touched by the bishop's words. He reached out and patted the guy's shoulder.

"You are a kind man monsieur."

"It is best that you lay low for a while, he can't touch you here."

"Our house is close to suburbs, it is impossible to go there without getting caught."

At this Jean blushed because he had thought of their solution.

"How about living here?"

"Here?! Wouldn't it be a problem for you?"

"Not at all. The bell tower is available. Only a girl is living there."

"A girl... in a bell tower... It could be alright for Éponine. Anything for my darling's safety."

At that Jean smiled.

"Welcome to your new home, the cathedral of Notre Dame."

                                                                  ***

A small boy ran down the streets, looking over his shoulder from time to time. He was carrying a loaf of bread on his small hands. He hid in a corner as he watched the guards passing by. He was late. He had to go to meet his friends Grantaire and Combeferre. He ran and ran and ran until he was at the suburbs where their meeting place was. He crouched down and slipped through the entrance where he saw his buddies huddled in a corner playing with marbles.

-I'm sorry I was late!

-Where were you?!

-I had to lose some guards on the way Ferre!

-What about food?

-Don't worry R it's fresh.

They sat together, dividing the loaf evenly between them. As they were munching their food Combeferre spoke up.

-Did you hear what happened today?

-No what happened?

-Javert and 'Ponine almost got caught.

-WHAT?!

-Calm down R, they are okay. They are in Notre Dame right now.

-Sanctuary?

-Yup. The best thing is father Jean Valjean defended them.

-You are kidding.

-Nope I am not. The whole town is talking about it.

-Felix Tholomylès won't leave them.

-Do you think...we'll see Ponine again?

-I don't know R, we might not.

They were approached by the leader, Lamarque, a man in his fifties with shining eyes and a gentle smile. He sat down next to the three kids whom he considered like sons. He wrapped his arms around them.

-Don't worry my little lion cubs... we will get them back.

                                                                        ***

Jean led the pair through the cathedral towards the bell tower. Éponine was still clutching at her dad tightly. Climbing the steps, they came face to face with a wooden door. The bishop opened the door and held it out for them to come in.

-Fantine? Where are you darling?

A beautiful girl  with blonde hair and brown eyes came in from the balcony. She gasped softly as she took in Javert and Éponine.

-Guests?

-No my dear, your roommates.

She approached them cautiously, frowned when the girl turned away from her.

-Ponine be nice.

Fantine smiled as she detected the gentle tone of the young man towards the child.

-Pleased to meet you Monsieur...

-Javert. Enchanté.

Jean cleared his throat,

-I hope you will get along fine. I am humbled to host you here.

They truly got along just fine. As they learned, Fantine had to leave her child in the hands of a man called Lamarque. She was shamed for having an intercourse before marriage so the only thing she could think of was hiding in the cathedral. No matter how much they pressed, Javert and Éponine couldn't learn who the child's true father was.

As the years past, Éponine grew closer with Fantine as did Javert and the bishop. Fantine now considered her as her own daughter, just like the Bishop. The girl was surrounded by love in the tower. As much as she yearned to get out of the tower, she knew they couldn't. But for how long? She was a free spirit after all. Not to mention she missed her friends.

Chapter 3-

After seven years of confinement in the bell tower it was safe to say that Éponine was going crazy. After that faithful day, she didn't set one foot outside from the church.

Solitude was not kind on Javert either. He was more snappy, bitter, longing to dance again. Although the  company of Fantine, Valjean and his daughter was making it easier.

Just like every year, the people of Paris gathered around in an important day to choose the king...of fools. The festival of fools was on it's way yes.

-Papa can't I just go?! Come on for one day. I promise I won't get into trouble!

- Éponine you know how I feel about the outside world.

-I know but, that day was seven years ago! Who's to say that judge Felix Tholomylès remembers us?

That's when Fantine chirped in;

-You know I wouldn't agree normally, but Javert give the girl a break. She needs some fresh air and ...friends.

Javert sighed and pinched his nose bridge.

-Let me think about it, alright?

Éponine nodded smiling gleefully. Now she was a woman, and had the body of a woman, no longer a child.

Now she was leaning over the city from the balcony. Just like every other girl, she had dreams but hers was more exploring the city than meeting boys.

-You can go.

Éponine whirled back and jumped to embrace his father as a thank you and decided to get ready.

                                     ***

Enjolras was a charming man, capable of being terrible. He had long blonde locks and striking blue eyes. He was a soldier, Captain of the Guard to be precise. He was just promoted to a job in Paris, to serve under the judge Felix Tholomylès. His first job was to maintain control during the Festival of Fools.

He was on his horse, surveying everywhere his eyes could while the place was crammed with crazy parisien folk. A loud ruckus was present as jesters entertained people, magicians fooled people and gypsies danced.

A sneer planted itself on his stoic face as he observed perverted people sneaking into tents. Where has gone their dignity, he thought as his eyes fell into a beautiful brunette. Her hair was cascading down her back like a waterfall and her red outfit made her stand out. Her cleavage was moderate, and her deep red skirt was flowing as she walked. No. she looked like she was dancing while walking. Enjolras had to keep himself intact as to not to think revolting ideas while working.

The said brunette had seen Enjolras but she had turned her head as more pressing matters were at hand. Mainly finding her childhood friends. She spotted a curly haired lad, trying to woo a lady. It seemed like it was working. His features were elvish and joyful. She sneaked up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He turned away from the woman to see the beautiful brunette.

-Well hello there, mademoiselle.

She curtseyed a bit before talking.

-I am sorry to disturb you monsieur but by any chance you might be Courfeyrac?

At this the lad scrunched up his face as if remembering a vague memory.

-Well, oui that is me. Have we met before citoyenne?

-You forgot your childhood friend, Courfeyrac?

Before she knew it, she was in the arms of Courfeyrac and was being twirled around.

-PONINE IT IS YOU!!

-KEEP IT DOWN WILL YOU!

Courfeyrac released her as the two friends smiled at each other. They had both missed each other.

-Please don't tell anyone I tried to woo you.

-I won't my dear Courf.

Enjolras watched the pair with gritted teeth. Of course she was taken. How couldn't she? She was practically radiating! Such enchantress.

He turned his attention towards the spectacle which Jehan the poet was announcing. Now it was time to crown the king of fools. But before that Jehan decided to randomly pick two girls from the crowd to dance. His pensive look landed on the brunette beauty and a blonde girl.

Both of them were beautiful, one was clad in red while the other was clad in pink. After exchanging their names, Éponine and Cosette started dancing to the beat. Their movements synchronized as they moved elegantly but captivatingly.

Enjolras felt a familiar tightening sensation in his lower parts, mostly due to that brunette's movements. He had to meet her! Her brown eyes landed on him while she danced and if possible, her movements became more sensual. She winked at him as he struggled to breathe under his armor.

Enjolras was not alone in this endeavor. The judge, he would never admit, was entranced by this spectacle. Never in his life had a woman who could set his insides on fire by just dancing! Every time she lifted her leg or arched her back, he could feel his skin setting itself on fire. Who was this brown haired witch?

Although he won't be present in this story until later on, it is essential that the reader should know about Baron Marius Pontmercy whom was unable to divert his gaze from the blonde dancer, Cosette. Same for the blonde girl. His green eyes had enslaved her heart immediately.

Much sooner their dance was over and they were soon engulfed by the crowd. Now it was really the time to choose the king of fools. That's when Enjolras was ordered to catch the brunette silently. Felix Tholomylès gave him a direct but silent order: -Capture her.-

He mounted down his horse and approached the young girl. Her sweet scent engulfed his nose as he wrapped his arm around her waist and covered her mouth with his other hand. God she felt indescribable pressed against him. Thank god for the armor. But Éponine wasn't going to surrender easily. She bit the hand that was holding her to release a deafening scream before kicking the captain right between the legs. She turned in disbelief as  her gaze hardened when she saw him.

-You!

She called angrily.

Enjolras hissed in pain and recoiled backwards as the king of fools himself, Grantaire, we call him, came in to help his old friend whom he recognized from the scream. He pushed Enjolras and grabbed Éponine running towards the cathedral. Enjolras attempted to follow them but the crowd pushed him back. The last thing he saw before mounting his horse was the cathedral’s doors slamming shut. He swore that he would have her one way or another.

Chapter 4-

Since the construction of the majestic cathedral, Notre-Dame has witnessed many things. But never before she has seen two old friends embracing each other as they cried into each other's shoulders.

-Oh Grantaire, how have I missed you.

The said man was caressing Éponine's dark tresses as he cried. Probably from too much wine and his emotions.

-Ponine, my beautiful Ponine...

Then there he was kissing her cheeks, her nose, her forehead as footsteps echoed in the cathedral. From the staircase emerged Javert and Valjean.

-Éponine! Are you alright?

He crouched next to her and pushed Grantaire away as his fatherly instincts kicked in. He rocked his baby girl back and forth until she stopped her outburst.

-Papa, do you remember Grantaire?

-Yes I do, cute kid. Why do you ask my dear?

-I happen to be the said kid Monsieur Javert.

-GRANTAIRE!

Not letting go of his daughter, Javert wrapped an arm around Grantaire and pulled him close.

-I've missed you son.

Three of them were wrapped up in a bundle together, not wanting to let go of each other for a long while. Valjean watched them from afar with a fond curl on his face.

Meanwhile, in front of the cathedral Enjolras paced back and forth. He was at loss. He couldn't touch her when she was inside, she had to lure her out. But how?Then a small thought found itself in his mind.

-Why don't you befriend her?-

He would never admit that he was entranced by her. He desired more than friendship of course.

After much pacing and a lecture from the judge he decided to enter the cathedral. To his surprise it was empty. Silence engulfed him as he closed the door behind him. No one in sight. He walked down the aisle, just below the heavenly light and bowed his head.

-I didn't take you as a spiritual guy at first glance.

Enjolras whipped his head towards the source of the voice. There she stood, the original sin, embodied by this woman.

-Although I am curious as to what the Captain of the Guards has anything to do with me?

Enjolras quickly regained his posture and his stoic face.

-I was doing only what was ordered.

-Didn't look like that when I was dancing.

Damn it, she was clever. If only he could control the heat rising to his cheeks.

-Well.. that was.. nothing.

She advanced towards him, swaying her lips slightly. Enjolras gulped and tried to distance himself. That's when he was least expecting he was against a column with a knife pressed against his throat.

-Under normal circumstances I would love to be pressed against the wall-

-Shut up you basta-

-No no watch your mouth, we are in a church.

-Were you always this charming or is it my lucky day?

Éponine sneered at him, at his boldness. He had scared her earlier that day so this was her small revenge.

-Don't ever try the same thing you did today, are we clear?

-You are threatening a soldier you know that?

She pressed the tip against his throat.

-I don't think it is a time for you to be cocky.

They stared at each other's eyes for a while. Both feeling a strange pull against the other.

-You fight good for a girl.

-I was going to say the same thing for you.

Éponine let go of his throat and stepped back.

-What's your name?

-Enjolras. Yours?

-Éponine.

-Énchanté mademoiselle Éponine.

-Bohémienne Éponine.

Éponine fought the urge to blush and after one nod she gathered her skirts and disappeared going up the staircase leaving a flustered Enjolras after her.

-Éponine, Éponine... I have to visit the cabaret Valley of Love. I can't be taken with her.  

Off he went.

Chapter 5-

Life was never easy for the judge Felix Tholomylès. Growing up inside the walls of Notre-Dame, he never had an interaction with a woman sauf one. It was only when he was young and foolish, disregarding his God for one night. It almost cost him his life.

He had sweared off of women and men for years. Then in an ordinary festival, she came along. Her brown hair turning red in the sunlight, those hips moving from side to side.

He shook his head. His insides were on fire again, with just the mere thought of her arching back. But he couldn't shake the feeling that, he had seen her before. Her brown orbs were very familiar. This thought was tearing him apart. No matter how much he prayed, Ave Maria refused to help him ease is mind.

He felt the walls closing in on him, inside the Palace of Justice. He had to get away. He seemed refuge inside the only woman who would accept him again. The cathedral Notre-Dame.

As he walked towards the aisle, he heard an angel sing. He turned his head towards the Virgin Mary. He bowed under her heavenly light. The soft was still present invading his thoughts. Shortly a male voice joined the angel. Felix turned his head towards baby Jesus, overcame by the emotions, he felt a tear escape from his eyes.

The harmonies mixing in his head, he felt as if he saw heaven right there. The gates of heaven went through Éponine's skirt...

He shivered and crawled back from the statues. He tried to block out the voices with his hands. They were not stopping. He was drowning. Drowning in ecstasy and pain. Before he could stop a cry of anguish escaped his lips. It drowned out the heavenly voices as they abruptly stopped, followed by an echo of footsteps.

It was Grantaire who emerged first, followed by Éponine. They gasped as they saw the judge on his knees. Éponine shrank back, her days of trauma coming back to her. She was again that defenseless little girl. Her brown eyes wide, her lips trembling. She grasped Grantaire's hand tightly who proceeded to envelop her in a protective hug.

At this point the judge raised his head to see the witch before him. He searched her brown eyes which projected nothing but... fear to him. He studied her face as he addressed to his feet. The pull was back, he knew this girl, he could swore to Jesus. Grantaire hid her behind him and snarled at Felix.

-Get away from her.

That's when he understood. He had seen the same act being done years ago, by an another gypsy lad. Javert was his name. The one who stole bread. The one the Bishop protected. It was his daughter! His little daughter! Not so little anymore. He had fallen in-love with a gypsy girl! Much younger than him!

He staggered backwards and hit a column. Having the breath knocked out of him, he coughed.

-Ponine hide.

Grantaire whispered. She grabbed his hand one more time just before bolting for the bell tower before the judge could notice her slipping away.

Finally catching his breath, Felix looked around to find no one but Grantaire staring at him. Horrified that he had dreamt the whole confrontation, he turned and ran. Ran like there was no tomorrow. Away from the haunted cathedral, away from those haunting brown eyes.

After running deliriously, he found himself face to face with Seine. He put his hands on his face and cried. Cried from the emotions, cried from the pain, cried from pleasure, cried from confusion but mostly cried from helplessness. He loved her. In his own twisted way he loved her.

We can positively say that Felix was disgusted with himself. He practically loved a child! But love had a way of making you a prisoner, of killing you until you became a hunter, ravishing your prey. At least that's how he saw it.

He didn't care if anyone saw him at this point. The moonlight shone on his black robes and his clear tears that were cascading down his face. He couldn't go on like this. He would go insane! He had to have Éponine!

-She will be mine or she will burn.

He mumbled into the river as if promising an oath. He once let the woman he loved go. He wouldn't do the same thing again.

                                                                     ***

There is no surprise that humans experience the same night in various different ways. In our case we have Enjolras, not fully enjoying himself in the cabaret.

He was surrounded by girls, all trying to get in his pants. He had to admit the girls were lovely but none were like Éponine. They were too easy. Éponine never flung herself at him, she had dignity, an appeal. Damn it, he wasn't supposed to think about her. She had to leave his mind.

But would she leave his soul?

No. Never.

Enjolras, who was only a mere soldier, his only love was his Patria. The only goal he had in life was to serve his country. Then in one swift movement, she clouded his mind. But she was the Patria herself. Clad in red, dancing on fire, independent, the voice of people. She was his mother earth. She was his goddess.

Men are weak. They are vulnerable. Present them a luscious body and they are putty in seconds. Enjolras used to think he was different from them. In a way he was. Only one woman managed to melt his marble façade. He could still feel how her body felt against his. She fitted against him. If he imagined hard enough, he could feel her silky tresses.

His eyes opened wide as cold sweat coated his forehead. He had fallen for the gypsy. There was no turning back now. He remembered how Marius used to tease him, how he was so stoic he would scare any women away. Boy was he wrong. He chuckled as he thought of this. At this very moment, a girl pressed her bosom against him. Reviled, Enjolras got up and without even a glance, dashed out of the cabaret.

At night the streets of Paris were like a cage to the inexperienced. But Enjolras was intelligent, he knew his way around...more or less. After dodging a few gypsies he found himself next to Seine facing Notre-Dame. His eyes were shining from the moon as he observed the graceful cathedral. She was in there somewhere. His Patria. He leaned back on the bridge as he felt his thoughts wandering.

She was an angel. No she was human, but her soul was angelic. He bit his lip as he imagined her dance again. Those movements was enough for him to crouch on his knees and beg for her.

He couldn't hand her to the judge. No. He couldn't. She deserved to be free. She deserved to live her life.

He shook his head to relieve himself from these invading thoughts. He had to save her, before the judge got her it was certain. He needed help from inside and her origins. It was time to go to the Court of Miracles.

                                                                   ***

Everything was good yes alright but what was our lovely heroine was doing tonight?

We all saw how she reacted to judge but to understand her emotions let us go to the moment just after parting with the handsome Enjolras.

After her, bizarre encounter with Enjolras, Éponine found herself smiling for no reason at all. She felt this certain pull in her stomach and she often sighed. Javert picked up on his daughter's odd demeanor and decided to ask Fantine.

-She is in-love.

-WHAT!!!

-Javert calm down it is quite normal for a girl her age to fall- in love.

- BUT MY BABY GIRL-

-Will be just fine. Give it time.

She wasn't getting any better. Grantaire wasn't helping either, always making her talk about the blonde soldier. Who started singing I won't reveal but the cathedral was resonating with their voices. They sang from afternoon until night, until they were interrupted by a scream of anguish. Both of them, curious, descended the stairs to find judge on his knees.

As the readers what went down at this moment I would like to take them to the moment when Ponine escaped upstairs. She cried and her family listened to her. Grantaire joined them just as she finished talking.

Javert was scared for his daughter. She was in dangerous waters. They needed to get away from the judge at all costs. But he couldn't bear separate Éponine from her love. He had to think something fast.

Éponine was a pensive child. She loved to gaze at stars and just think. Her wonder always got the best of her and shattered her boundaries. She had to meet with that soldier again. That cocky soldier, who became flustered when she was near. She needed to learn more about him.

She missed her home. The home where her dad and she was walking freely. The Court of Miracles as he called. She missed Courfeyrac. They had to escape from this cathedral-prison. She had to find her love. One way or another.

As three lovers stared as the sky, heaven's light descended on Éponine and Enjolras. Even though they were both lost in their own world, the Heavens had already made their decision and the Fates would act accordingly. But fate is ever-changing. Every decisions we take shapes our destiny. The Heavens may have decided on something but it rested on both Enjolras and Éponine, more so on their connection. Love, my dear readers, is worth fighting for.

Chapter 6-

Lamarque, in his long life has been the leader of gypsies as long as he can remembers. He was the father of gypsies. He was there when they went into Paris, when they demanded sanctuary from the cathedral, when massacres were committed by the judge. Terrible years they were. He witnessed the helplessness of his people. So when a soldier came for asking help he was surprised for sure. Though not just any soldier, Captain of the Guard Enjolras himself.

-The judge is after Éponine. He wants her.

This troubled Lamarque. Both Javert and Éponine were very dear for him and even after all those years, he was still sorry because of their separation.

-How can I help you my boy? I can't march into Paris with gypsies. They will slaughter us.

-You have to eliminate the judge. He can't have her.

-Because you can?

-No because she is an individual who deserves her life.

-And the gypsies who will die for her, they don't?

Lamarque clasped a hand on Enjolras's shoulder and frowned.

-We have to be discreet if we want to rescue her. We have to have them out of the cathedral.

-No it won't work. Tholomylès has eyes everywhere. We need to be impulsive.

-Then count us out, my boy.

Dejected and solemn Enjolras left the place and wandered to the heart of Paris. It was time to visit an old friend and a former colleague.

He crossed the streets in the dark until he came face to face with a fan shop which was still open. There inside he observed a brown haired fellow painting a fan. His hands and face were smeared with paint and his brows were furrowed in concentration.

Feuilly was an old friend of Enjolras from way back. He was hard-working, he had to be, to live. His job had an utmost importance to him. That's why he was one of the few people who had Enjolras's undivided attention and respect.

Feuilly shivered as he felt someone gaze at him. His mouth broke into a smile when he saw his old friend in-front of him. He stopped working on his fan and went around his bureau to hug his old friend. Enjolras gladly reciprocated the hug.

-It's been too long my friend.

-I agree. But I need your help.

Feuilly frowned at this. He had heard a nasty business concerning a gypsy girl and the judge. He hoped his friends concerns didn't include this. Of course he was wrong.

After much hesitation, Enjolras revealed his hidden feelings for the gypsy girl, how he had treated her and most importantly the judge's intentions with her.

-Mon ami, what can I do to help you?

-We need to attack Tholomylès, before she is caught.

-But it is impossible! He has many men, Enjolras I implore to you, think this through.

-What if... we use a live bait to lure him out?

-If you are implying, you want to endanger the life of the girl you love, I am rather concerned for your mental health.

-No no no would I be that terrible, Feuilly really? I had someone different in mind. Someone Felix Tholomylès hated since their arrival to Paris.

Realisation etched on Feuilly's face. This would be hard and a dangerous mission.

-And how will you manage this?

-The king of fools.

-You know his name?

-No. I have never met him.

-His name is Grantaire. Don't ask me how I know him.

Enjolras nodded his thanks before turning back and striding out of the shop, leaving an anxious Feuilly behind. Enjolras turned back at the door,

-Inform the others. We'll need them for the final battle.

***

His long legs helped Enjolras reach the Notre-Dame cathedral in no time. He pushed open the door and caught his breath. He lifted his head to see a woman, clad in white descending the stairs.

-If it isn't the cocky monsieur Enjolras.

She approached him. Her insides were yearning to touch him but she had to refrain from doing so. She didn't even know if Enjolras felt the way Éponine felt for him.

-And if it isn't the beautiful Éponine.

She blushed under his intense gaze as she was right in-front of him. She was not so confident anymore.

-Tell me monsieur, do you believe in love?

-Never did until I saw you dance.

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at his blue eyes. He saw a few emotions flickering there but a tender fondness was the most obvious one. She smiled and leaned in. Enjolras, taking the hint leaned in as well and their lips met in the middle. A soft cry emitted from Éponine as his lips caressed hers delicately.

All too soon she leaned back. Afraid of the holy spirits, afraid of prying eyes.

-That was my first kiss monsieur.

-I beg you, call me just Enjolras.

He moved a lock of hair from her face and curled it behind her ear.

-I will save you from this prison.

The brunette's morose eyes found his clear irises. She shook her head as a single tear escaped her eye. Enjolras found himself caressing her cheek.

-Please don't die.

Of course Enjolras didn't know her trauma, her panic. But he read between the lines this time.

-I won't. But to help you, I need to speak with Grantaire.

Éponine arched an eyebrow, but nodded. Before leaving, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, a promise of what may come in the future.

Soon, a shuffling feet can be heard as the usually drunk artist stumbled down the stairs to meet with the marble man,Apollo. His mop of dark curly hair was messier than usual and his clothes were shabby.

Enjolras stiffly nodded at him. For some reason, Grantaire was smirking at him. It set his demeanor  of a bit.

-You love her.

Enjolras was taken aback. How could this drunkard know his feelings?

-Don't bother to hide, I smell love a mile away. Question is what do you want from me?

-Simple, I need your help.

-I'm listening.

-We need to lure out Lamarque to distract Tholomylès while Ponine escapes.

-What is my role in this?

-You need to be in danger. We are going to hide you.

***

Chapter 5-

Cosette and Marius were madly in-love. Love in first sight, they say. The booby baron was in-love with a gypsy girl and he could care less about his rich background. Almost immediately they started living together. Cosette never broke her relations with her roots. She was raised under Lamarque, she was practically his daughter. Lamarque had approved of this relationship as long as his baby girl would be safe. That's why when Cosette came rushing to him, saying that Grantaire was in danger, he couldn't refuse. He left Jehan in charge as both he and Cosette rushed through the streets.

True to her word, Grantaire was indeed in danger. He was bound with harsh ropes, kneeling in front of the judge. The judge had a sword on his hand. He slowly raised his arm. Enraged, Lamarque staggered forward to block the sword and to the utmost chagrin, the sword was impaled right through his heart. The light faded from his eyes as the judge stumbled back. Just then a cry of defiance escaped from a girl.

The girl was alone, her dad, her lover were all captured silently by the soldiers. She had tried to ignore the unfolding scene but she couldn't contain herself when her dear Lamarque that she remembered barely was killed.

Before anyone could comprehend, a brunette flung herself on the dead body and sobbed. Her wailing wrecked her body as she screamed for Lamarque. The judge was taken aback by this display of emotion. He knew Éponine was standing just before him yet he couldn't do anything. Éponine slowly unsheathed the sword from Lamarque's chest and faced the judge.

-YOU MONSTER! YOU DESERVE TO DIE!

Too deranged Éponine didn't notice how Felix called for the guards. She approached him threateningly, swinging the sword back and forth. Only when she saw how the soldiers handled Enjolras, her dad, Fantine and now Grantaire did she faltered in her steps. In the blink of an eye she was restrained by other soldiers. The sword was taken away from her. She looked back to see if Cosette was safe. The golden haired girl had vanished the moment Lamarque was dead.

The captured were all taken to Notre-Dame to remain as prisoners until their execution. They were all in cages, separated from each other. Enjolras was panicking, Javert was crying, Fantine was having a panic attack while both Éponine and Grantaire knew there was no hope. They finally bowed to the hands of destiny. There was no escape from death, which was the clutches of Felix Tholomylès.

There are numerous ways to die in this life. Poisoned, executed, suicide, illness, natural disaster, coincidence...but they all have something in common; the helplessness. No matter how much you resist, this sentiment engulfs you. In our case, Éponine surrendered herself to death. She knew she would soon join her family in heaven. Same for Grantaire. He was a depressed cynic, he had no hope to live for. He would soon die, like his best friend. In Heavens only will they dance together.

While these thoughts was engulfing our dears, outside Cosette with the help of Marius was forming a crowd to save them during the execution. Marius had informed Feuilly, who in return had reported that he had already gathered a crowd thanks to the Les Amis de L'ABC which was a group led by Enjolras before he was the Captain of the Guard. Each of the free members; Combeferre, Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel, Feuilly had united with gypsies led by Jehan and Courfeyrac and they were marching down to the execution place.

The executioner was ready, so was the judge. He had a plan. If Éponine was intelligent,she would live but others? They would die either way. But the judge was uneasy. He could feel a storm was coming. Judging by the stomps of feet, it was coming quite quickly. He decided to get this over the sooner the better. He ordered for the cages to be carried down to the courtyard of the cathedral.

Éponine felt tears streaming down her face as she faced the crowd. She noticed Cosette, hidden. She nodded at her, before her cage was opened and she had to step up to the podium. A rope was waiting for her. She visibly chilled, cold sweat bids formed on her forehead as the rope was now on her neck.

This was the moment Felix was waiting for. He approached the beauty who was glaring at him. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

-I can save you...if you marry me.

He leaned back to look at his future wife's face only to see pure disgust. Then the little ungrateful child spit on his face!

- Hell is waiting for you.

Furious, the judge signaled for the executioner to pull the rope and that's when all hell broke lose.

***

Chapter 6-

-YOU TOOK MY DAUGHTER FROM ME!

Have you ever heard of a woman's battle cry? Bone chilling. Men tend to present their rage with their strength while women, they scare you. That's what Felix Tholomylès heard just before his life was violently ripped away from him. So this was his end. His life of oppressing others, his unsatisfying life was over. You see while he was distracted, the crowd had freed the remaining prisoners. Guards were taken down silently. But to everyone's surprise it was Fantine who broke free first. She grabbed the sword of the nearest fallen guard before impaling his stomach.

Felix choked on his own blood before exhaling his last breath. Fantine extracted her sword from his body as she surveyed the battlefield. The soil was littered with corpses. Both gypsy and soldier. But it was all still now. The only thing people could see was their fallen comrades.

Éponine was freed from her rope thanks to Enjolras. She turned towards the crowd that were gazing at her.

-The people of Paris! Today you have eliminated an oppressing figure. Said figure tormented you, tortured you, massacred your brethren for years. It is time to stop fighting. Now it is time to mourn and heal.

To her relief, her loved ones was alive. She wept. She wept for the fallen. She fell on her knees and released cries of anguish that would shatter the skies. SO much that the God took pity on her and wept with her. Paris was getting cleansed with those rain drops. This one simple gypsy girl, who was a nothing, suddenly became everything in people's eyes.

Javert knelt next to her daughter. He kissed her brow as they wept together. The whole Paris was crying. Some shed the tears of relief, some from anguish. It was such a sight to behold.

A few minutes later, Javert was replaced by Enjolras. He embraced his love tenderly and kissed her forehead. He knew they had hard days ahead, but he knew as long as he continued to love her, they would overcome anything together. Or anyone for that matter.

[thesak]

The Dunnes: ‘Stronger than ever.’

Twenty years ago today, Tim Dunne made a quick dive into a friend’s pool and woke up hours later in an intensive care unit, partially paralyzed. He has been an inspiration to his family, friends and everyone who’s known him ever since. Here’s a story I wrote about Tim and his family in 2005, as his sister, Kelly, was helping lead Northport’s girl’s basketball team to a county championship.

A passion than strengthens family ties The Dunnes: Seven-and-half years after accident and ‘stronger than ever.’

Northport Record, Jan. 20, 2005 — Kelly Dunne gritted her teeth and curled her face into a slight sneer as she lay on the floor in front of the Northport bench, the victim of a shirt-grabbing, arm-flinging intentional foul late in an ugly game against Sachem North, last Saturday.

Kelly, the junior who starts at guard, collected herself, stood up and reacquired the stoic look, the wide-eyed straight stare that she nearly always maintains as part of a quiet, unassuming na-ture on the basketball court. The teeth and the facial contortion were gone with a flashbulb.

Only family noticed. Kelly’s mother and father, John and Eileen, and brother Tim, all veter-ans of on-the-court battles and far greater off-the-court obstacles, were watching from the stands and on the sideline. 

“I don’t think she meant to hit you that hard,” John told Kelly after the game.

“I don’t know, I felt like I was Superman,” Kelly said. “Someone said to me, ‘I was getting ready for you to get up and deck that girl.’ I was like, ‘Um, no.’”

Therein lies the character, the determination and the sportsmanship that is embodied by Kelly, in continuation of a tradition set forth by her parents and her brothers — Greg, Richard and Tim.

Inspired To Succeed

Greg, 27, played basketball on the 1995 Long Island championship team at Northport and at Nazareth College in Rochester. He led the team to the NCAA tournament and was selected as an All-American while earning the nickname “the Magic Johnson of Division III.” He current serves as the assistant head men’s basketball coach at the State University of New York-Brockport and works as an investment professional in Rochester.

“I’m busy all the time, I’m working all the time, but it’s fun,” Greg said from Rochester, be-tween his shift at the investment firm Pics Telecom and an evening practice.

Richard, 21, also played basketball at Northport and maintained academic dexterity with nightly trips to the library and late study sessions. He is in his senior year of pre-med studies at the University of Notre Dame in South Bend, Indiana. He works at a homeless shelter and last year interned in the emergency room at Memorial Sloan Kettering Hospital in New York. Kelly calls him a genius.

“I live my life on the go. I’m nonstop,” Rich said from South Bend, following a walk across the campus where 10 inches of snow has fallen in the last three days.

His hectic pace is similar to that of Greg and Kelly, who balances basketball, performance in the school choir, study and a social life. Following a game against Walt Whitman, the week before Christmas, Kelly rushed to the locker room, changed into a sweater and skirt and dashed to the choir room to prepare for a concert performance.

“We’re very active people and we don’t like sitting around and waiting for things to happen,” Rich said. “We’re proactive people and maybe that’s why we work so well as a family. Being active keeps us going and it makes our lives exciting.”

Tim, 25, is an inspiration. It has been seven-and-a-half years since the steamy early summer afternoon, the week before graduation from Northport, when he made a quick dive into a friend’s pool and woke up hours later in the intensive care unit at Huntington Hospital, partially paralyzed.

During his recovery, and the years of adjustment since, Tim has inspired Kelly, who was nine at the time, to a precocious emotional maturity and Rich, who was in eighth grade, to a career in medicine.

“I spent months and months in the hospital and I saw how my brother and my family reacted to tragedy and turned it into a positive,” Rich said. “I saw myself being able to help people in a similar way, helping people who were sick.”

Tim has influenced friends, more than any paid inspirational speaker ever could, to grumble less about their own insignificant misfortunes and to live each day with a positive outlook. And he has motivated the Northport community to philanthropy, evoking donations to fund hundreds of thousands of dollars in needed renovation costs for his parents’ home, for the van that is used to transport him, for the motorized wheelchair that has become part of his visage and for other victims of spinal cord injury.

“It was unbelievable, the outpouring of support that people showed to me,” Tim said. “If there was a day that I didn’t feel like getting out of bed to go to physical therapy, I just sat there and would think about all the people who sent letters, who sent donations and it really motivated me.”

Tim graduated from Hofstra University in Hempstead in 2003 with a double major in journalism and psychology. He wrote feature stories during an internship with the local weekly newspaper, the Northport Observer, but had to back away from those duties when health woes and back pain from typing limited his productivity. He plans to apply to law school — his friend Joey DiPalo, the young man whose cardio pulmonary resuscitation helped revive Tim after the accident, is a lawyer in Queens — or a Master’s program.

“I’m really kind of indecisive about what I want to do next,” Tim said. “I’d like to go to law school, but I’m worried that with some health issues that I have it might be too difficult. I know that I would be able to do the work, once I get in there, but physically I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. It took me five years to graduate [from Hofstra] and it really took a physical toll on my body. Even just to write a two-page paper it’s difficult on my back. ”

For now, he remains committed to being a fixture at Northport girls basketball games, cheering Kelly and sharing his observations with her, whether she likes it or not.

“Kelly gets frustrated because I try to tell her little too much, sometimes,” Tim said.

“Too much, every time,” Kelly interjected.

Bound By Basketball

John and Eileen were introduced to basketball while growing up in the Boulevard Gardens apartment complex in Woodside. They were friends, but did not begin a formal courtship until they reached their 20s, Greg said. The game was their first love and the infatuation grew through play in high school. John crashed the boards at Brooklyn Tech in Fort Greene and Eileen honed her shooting at Mater Christi in Astoria.

As John and Eileen drove toward professional life and marriage, basketball remained as much a constant as strong religious values and the strength and determination that have carried them through tragedy and triumph. It is a kinship that has been passed to each of their four chil-dren, that Greg, Kelly and John continue to foster and that Tim, Rich and Eileen support from the sideline with praise, critique and affection.

“We just all love it, it’s a passion,” John said. “Basketball is our first love.”

Between Greg, Tim, Rich and Kelly, and the leagues of the Amateur Athletic Union, the CYO and the Eaton’s Neck youth program, John has coached more than 600 games. He has attended well over 1,000, including battles at Northport long before he ever knew his children would play on the varsity squad.

“We started coming to the games long before our kids were even of age to play,” Eileen said. 

“I probably came to girls games before Kelly was born,” John said. “I would watch Rich Castellano coach before I knew we would even have a girl.”

The Dunnes’ early development helped aid their success on the teams at Northport High School. Tim, Rich and Kelly have each appeared in the county semifinals.

Greg, playing in the veritable glory days of Northport boys’ basketball, reached that level of the playoff labyrinth twice. In his senior year, 1995, he led the Tigers to 23 straight wins and a berth in the state semifinals in Glens Falls.

Along the way, the Tigers scored a 50-35 win over Bridgehampton for the county championship, before a capacity crowd at Stony Brook University. Several of the Bridgehampton fans, Tim noted, took exception to his brother’s razzle-dazzle style and, more notably, his overweight appearance. They drew a sign and hung it from a railing.

“Pillsbury Dunneboy,” it said, complete with a doughy caricature of Greg, who had been shaped rounder than the prototypical point guard.

“When I saw that sign from across the way, I got so mad,” Tim recalled.

Tim sneaked around to the Bridgehampton section of the stands and stood near the sign, a sophomore from Northport amid rows of enemy territory.

“I waited for the right time,” Tim said. “[Greg] made a really nice move and scored on a nice driving layup.”

Tim ripped the sign and screamed wildly at the fans that he suspected had made it.

“I hated to see anything like that about my family,” Tim said. “I just wanted to stick up for him.”

Nearly a decade later, the story of Tim’s self-guided seek and destroy mission still provokes smiles and a sense of appreciation.

“He went over there and took care of business, that’s the kind of kid he is,” Greg said. “He’s fiercely loyal to his family and his friends. If you’re doing something wrong to his family, you better watch out, even now.”

Greg connected on 4 three-pointers and led the Tigers with 20 points. He scored 19 in the Ti-gers’ Long Island Class A championship win over Hempstead and added a team-high 22 in a 57-56 double-overtime loss to Henninger in the state semifinals.

“It was a great experience because I was doing it with all of my best friends,” Greg said.

John coached several players from the 1995 Northport squad, in AAU and reached the organization’s national championship against teams from across the country, some of which featured eventual pro-fessional stars. “We grew up playing basketball in the park every single day since eighth grade.”

Tim played on the 1997 Northport team that beat Sachem to reach the semifinals and then lost to William Floyd, 34-28, in what became a battle of defense, will and perimeter shooting. Rich appeared in the semifinals in 2001 and scored a basket, as Northport lost to Brentwood 49-43. Kelly made her trip last year, while a sophomore, as the Lady Tigers made a remarkable run to a state semifinal against Ossining.

Kelly Green, Blue & Gold

Kelly’s affinity for Northport athletics, and her intrinsic relationship with the Lady Tigers’ success, began well before she ever addressed Rich Castellano as coach. At age 3, she was an honorary cheerleader, complete with uniform, for her brothers’ teams. Later, she watched as a fan as the girls teams led by Cami and Kim Ruck charged toward the Long Island Championship.

“When Kelly was a little girl and probably when the other girls were little girls, and any little girl that likes basketball in Northport, grows up and wants to be a Lady Tiger,” Tim said. “They’ve been to the games, they’ve been to Hofstra. Kelly came with us to the games at Hofstra when Kim Ruck was playing in the Long Island Championship. These girls have grown up wanting to be a part of the Lady Tigers.”

Kelly attained her childhood dream and, shortly into her sophomore season, left an indelible print in Castellano’s mind — a three-pointer from the corner to defeat Sachem in the 2003 Suffolk Shootout tournament.

“That’s one of my favorite shots of the year,” Castellano said. Kelly hit a similar basket in the county championship game against the same Lady Flaming Arrows, last March. “Here she is a slight little blonde girl canning the three from the corner.”

Well-liked off the court and respected for her knowledge and diplomacy on the court, Kelly has assumed an unspoken leadership role. She also has one of the team’s most singsong plays named after her — Kelly Green.

“She’s one of my favorite kids on the team, she’s just positive all the time, she’s receptive all the time,” Castellano said. “She has grown as a defensive player. She’s very perceptive. She’s got one of the best shots on the team.”

After the Sachem North game, and the takedown that momentarily pulled the cover off of Kelly’s cool demeanor, last Saturday, Castellano approached her with thanks.

“I just told her, I said, ‘Listen, I appreciate what you do,’” Castellano said. “She’s a student of the game; she knows what to do to win.”

Her brother Greg, the assistant coach at SUNY-Brockport, agreed.

“As a player, she’s very skilled, she’s not the strongest, not the fastest, but she’s got a very good basketball I.Q.,” Greg said. “She does what Rich Castellano asks her to do.”

Teammate Jillian Byers, the senior guard who also plays on the girls’ lacrosse team with Kelly, concurs.

“She’s every coach’s dream player. You want to have that girl on your team. She’s very determined. She has unbelievable court vision,” Byers said. “She’s an all-around person. She’s one of the girls on the court who you think, ‘should I give this ball to her,’ and you have total confidence in her that she’s not going to turn the ball over.”

Through the tragedy of Tim’s accident and the triumph of his recovery, of basketball championships and academic success, the Dunnes have remained strong and steadfast to live in a new kind of normalcy. Kelly plays and Tim takes down mental notes.

“Seven years later, we’re still going and we’re stronger than ever,” Rich said. “We’ve become a closer family and each and every one of us is better for it. We’ve become better people, we respect one another and we really love each other. I couldn’t ask for anything more for a family life.”