Bye, Bye Beautiful
Her eyes slid closed, and everyone knew that she had given up.
Oscar François de Jarjayes was pronounced dead only minutes later.
She welcomed death with open arms, let the darkness swallow her because it wasn't nearly as dark as life was. How could she have known that in darkness she would find light?
He was waiting for her, and she ran to him. She swore that he would no longer be her shadow. He laughed and picked her up and spun her around and she let him. The skies were blue, the grass was green, and light was everywhere.
Was that the oak tree? The river they had nearly drowned in but had so many happy memories about? Her horse?
He introduced her to his parents, and they smiled and shared a look that made her blush. André only laughed and let his hand rest on her waist. They napped under an apple tree and ate and ate and never got full. Water tasted better than any wine and felt good against her skin. She kissed him and he kissed her, and her lungs didn't feel as if they were going to explode. She couldn't explain the joy that bubbled up from deep within her.
She didn't care about earth or France or life or death. She had almost everything she could ever want with her. She couldn't recall ever being so happy in her entire life.
He could see her with two eyes, now, but she told him that it didn't matter. She'd love him even if he couldn't see at all. They didn't need sight. She loved resting in his arms, loved touching his hair, his face, loved waking up to eternal light, loved sitting with him by the crystal-clear water listening to the sound of his voice as he spoke to her.
They never tired of the company of the other. They spent a lifetime so close and yet so distant. Eternity was one thing that they would spend together. She heard him laugh more times in an instant than he had laughed in his entire life, and she loved seeing him so happy.
They would watch the children playing and laughing and giggling, and she would rest her head on his shoulder and just smile at their antics. Louis-Joseph was among them, healthy and carefree and happy. She and André had only spent one night together, and though Oscar could not regret, she wondered what a child, born of their love for one another, of their own, might have been like.
Perhaps they had been there a moment, perhaps a lifetime, before a young child approached them. "Mama? Papa?"
They both stared in confusion, thinking he had mistaken them for someone else, but the boy smiled. "You carried me inside you," he said. "I remember fireflies and pine trees. I've been waiting for you for my entire life. I love you!" He threw his arms around them and the three embraced under the shade of their oak tree.
She didn't think of Earth or of blood. She didn't worry about the monarchy or the Revolution.
She saw her son and her husband and she laughed and smiled and only cried tears of happiness. She loved. She cherished.
And she waited for the others. Perhaps for a moment, perhaps for a lifetime.
This will be chaptered. Just a bunch of short introspective pieces on various characters concerning Oscar's death. Originally this was going to be a oneshot and Oscar only got two lines (the first two, if you were wondering), but then I decided that 100 to 200 words for each character wasn't enough, so I gave Oscar her own chapter and divided up everyone else's, too.
Up next is Rosalie.