RE-EDITED A Husband In Paris FrancoeurXLucille

THIS HAS BEEN RE-EDITED!!! I HATE THE WAY IT WAS WRITTEN BEFOE AND I ASK YOUR FORGIVENESS! PLEASE READ (MAINLY THE ENDING) AGAIN!!!!

It had been a month since they were wed, when trouble from the outside world started to take notice. They would not accept a monster into their society, and Lucille's career at last seemed to take a turn for the worst.

"Married to an insect?! A real loon, that one!" Laughed at.

"She should be ashamed of herself! Defiling herself with a creature!" Scorned.

"Oh, I could not imagine the demon spawn she will be cursed with! Such wretched children!"

She took the ridicule day by day with strength and fire. Half the time, she would come home emotionally exhausted from a simple errand and fall into Francoeur's arms.

"Mon amor, why are you so exhausted?" He would ask urgently.

"It's nothing, mon chere. It merely took much more effort than I thought." She smiled.

She wouldn't let him go with her on her errands, as of late many Parishioners had rebuked him once they recognized him. It hurt too much to watch and not be able to do anything.

She made a choice to bear it all on her own, to feel what Francoeur had to feel everyday.

She chose to be an outcast.

Her aunt's cabaret was now less frequented since all of Paris found where the monster was harbored, leaving the couple with a heavy cloud of guilt when her aunt was paying the price. Carlotta wasn't having it! She turns to the couple with hot vigor, shaking a finger in reprimand.

"It was for the best! Why would I want such ignorance in my own cabaret? I've built this place from nothing and I can do it again! As for you two..." She softened her tone, "you knew this would happen one day. The question is: Is your love for one another worth your career?" She looked straight into Lucille's eyes, making the young woman uncomfortable.

Could she do that? Could she really give up all she wanted for him?

The days became harder, and Lucille had to look for work. Francoeur noticed small things about her. He was insistent on joining her, but Lucille stubbornly forbade it.

"No, Francoeur! I'll not have you becoming a victim to those people anymore!"
"Lucille, I saw bruises on you last night, and that was not an accident in the tub. For the love of God, Lucille, I know! Please! Stop this!"

"We need the money, Francoeur."

"Then let me come with you."

"I cannot. I refuse to let you come."

"But why? Amour, why do you not let me come…?" He asked brokenly.

Her hand hung on the doorknob, her heart breaking to his pleading. She stubbornly shook her head in resolve.

"Because it hurts too much…" And she leaves.

Her job search went unsuccessful however, every owner of a shop refusing to hire the "monster-lover."

She went about weaving through shoulders and elbows, glares and insults.

"Disgusting!"

She heard a woman say. Lucille stopped. That is the last straw! She turned in a pivot, facing a woman not much younger than the singer.

"Disgusting? Pardonne-moi, mademoiselle, but I have seen the face of Paris for what it truly is." What's come over me? " The man whom you call monstre is called so by the true monstre itself: Humanity!"   

The woman screamed! "You wretch!" Lucille face stung. She staggered to the slap, clutching her face; the ground suddenly shook.

"Aaaahhhhhgh!!!"

"Look out!"

"God in Heaven!"

A shadow hovered over her, when she heard a voice boom.

"Do not dare to touch my WIFE! EVER!!"

She looked up to see a crisp white coat, a towering figure with a sleek black head, his chapeau falling in the air. His colossal figure was hunched and he was breathing deeply and quickly. Lucille did not have to see his face to know he was furious.

Nor had she heard him speak with such rage. "Francoeur…"

Francoeur stayed close to Lucille, his heart drumming with anger. He saw this woman slap her… and here he was, his chapeau fallen but mask intact. The woman was on the ground, cowering and sobbing.

For that moment, no amount of tears could deter his rage. He looked to the whole crowd, watching as they all backed away, their eyes wide with terror. They should be. He saw how each of them treated Lucille. All of them! He followed Lucille without her knowing. He tried to stay in his hiding place, not wanting to cause problems any worse for Lucille; then this woman- this human- slapped her… She might as well have slapped him!

So here he was, before these people, seething with rage ready to fight. He did not care if they all knew!

His chirping became a malicious growl, scaring off part of the crowd. His teeth were bared, and one hand was reaching for his glove.

"Run! Run! He'll kill us all!"

"Police! Police!"

The crowd turned to Lucille with malice, thinking she had called him but Francoeur roared before they had a chance to take a step towards her.

"Stay away from her!"

The police did come, astonishment coloring their faces when they see Francoeur. Francoeur took his stance when the police reached for their guns, but Lucille stepped in front of him, faltering him!

"No! Please! Stop! He's my husband!"

"Quoi?!"

She turns to him in an instant. "Francoeur! Don't!"

Francoeur stops, his heart swelled by her urgency, his fists loosening. He watched her face, the mark of the slap swelling angrily. His frowned.

"It's okay-"

"It's not, Lucille."

Lucille was taken aback by the flea's terse response. "Francoeur-"

"I won't stand for anymore, Lucille! You don't deserve this!"

"I brought it upon myself!"

"Then I will bear it with you!!" He was stern. "I am your husband! I will no longer stand for this!" His speech finished, his eyes softened, and his voice cracked. Lucille then saw the innocent flea behind his stern exterior. "Please, Lucille… let me take this with you."  

Lucille's heart broke. Here was Francoeur, the giant, kind-hearted flea, begging to bear this journey with her. The same flea who protected Emile with his own body from the prefect's bullets; the mysterious guitarist who sang in front of the very people who hated him; and the husband who vowed to give his own dignity for the love he held for his wife.

Lucille choked, feeling a relief she had upon her shoulders lift. "Oh, mon Coeur…"

"I've made my choice, mon amor."

And so he did.

He stood straight and removed his gloves, releasing his four arms. One hand snapped off his mask, exposing his large yellow-red. Another removed his scarf and the last two removed his large coat. He pushed the sleeves up to his four elbows, exposing his identity fully.  

He raised his arms in surrender. He looked at their faces, and felt his normal clumsiness come back when he turned to the Parishioners.

"I bid you no harm. "

Lucille watched her beloved, knowing his comfort level is at its lowest.

Lucille walked beside him, caressing his bristly back. Francoeur looked down to find her, her smile giving him the most immense calm. He held her close to him.

Since that day, Francoeur joined Lucille on every errand, and the violent commotion had gone down significantly as they walked the streets like every other couple. Of course there is the occasional insult. Though when came an insult, came an angry, but civilized, man-sized flea.

The night Francour had come to her rescue, although, is what sealed this couple's vow to one another.

Francoeur had placed his chapeau and mask onto their hangers, when he turned suddenly, swooping up Lucille in an embrace.

"Francoeur!" Lucille chirped, surprised by his sudden affection; then she felt him shivering. "Mon Coeur…?"

He let out a quivering sigh. "You don't know how much it angered me; not telling me what was happening. I felt so helpless, Lucille…! Oh, mon amour, do you know how agonizing these weeks were for me?" That surprised her. "How much it hurt you would not dare to trust me?" He looked into her. "I felt you did not need me, as though I couldn't do anything right! That's why I followed you… and when I saw that- that woman hit you… Oh, Lucille… I never want to feel like that again! I wanted to hurt her, Lucille! No! I wanted to do more than that! Lucille, I wanted to make her suffer… Mon Dieu, forgive me…"

She embraced his neck, wanting to comfort him. "Francoeur, it's all right. The fault is mine to bear! You did nothing wrong…  Mon cher, had I'd known how much it would hurt you, I would have told you everything!" She burrowed her face into his shoulder, ashamed. "It was just so awful for me to see how those people would attack you, when you did nothing! I wanted to take it upon myself… you had dealt with it alone for so long; I wanted to learn what it was like… so that I may understand…"

Francoeur kneeled down, placing her down, and at her level. He takes her face into his gloved hands, taking in her beauty. The handprint was slightly faded, but still visible. He removed one glove, releasing his two hands; he caressed both her swollen cheek, and her slender neck.

Lucille leaned into his palm; her tears rolled to rest on his hand. "Do you forgive me?"

Francoeur looked at her sadly, removed his other glove and took her face gently. He kissed her mark, tracing it with his lips. Oh, how he wished he could make it disappear. "Mon ange..."

Words were forgotten, but the actions expressed a newfound understanding between them. Lucille felt his forgiveness shower over her like a waterfall; she felt young and innocent again, giving up her very being to trust the husband destiny had chosen for her.

"Francoeur?" Her husband looked down, slightly hazed, but forcing his attention to his wife. Lucille grinned happily, and placed both her palms on his face. "I have made my choice as well, mon doux amour. As your wife, I will bear the weight of this world with you. I've decided I will give up my career…  for you."

The flea was at full attention now, sputtering in disbelief. "B-But Lucille!! You can't!"

"If you are not beside me, then I have no song to sing!"

Francoeur shook with emotion. "No Lucille… we shall keep singing. Mon ange, it makes me so happy your heart yearns for me so, but this I cannot allow. You were meant to sing, just as I was.  You helped strengthen my voice, strengthen my soul, and I will die using the gifts you helped strengthen. My voice belongs to you, mon amour, and that is all of my soul. Therefore, do not stop singing, for I will not."

Lucille was washed with emotion, uncaring of her tears when she pulled his head down for a heady kiss.

He lifted her up from the mattress, melding her body with his until he settled on his knees. His forehead rested on hers. "I will not, mon Coeur. I promise."

He moved in response. Lucille threw back her head, their voices shouting a heavenly vow into twilight skies.