DISCLAIMER: Do I seriously look dead, old, and write in French? No, what a surprise. So no, I don't own this. So can you please go bother someone else? I'm still in middle school, for Pete's sake!
Angels of the Rebellion
There's so much shouting, shooting, cries. I want to help, but it's all I can do to help myself. I had lost my gun early on, so I had virtually nothing to defend myself with. All around me, people are dying, getting wounded. I pay no attention to them, though I feel each death as a knife in my heart. I'm focused on finding one man, though, and one man only. Bossuet. I can only hope I get to him in time. As long as I'm with him, I can die in peace. This is the thought running circles through my head as I feel a bullet pierce my skin. I feel the blood run down my back and I fall forward onto the blood-soaked cobblestones. The bullet pierced a lung, I can tell. God, it hurts. Someone turns me over gently and I pry my eyes open. "Bossuet?" I whisper, reaching up to touch his face. I wasn't certain he was real. "I'm here, Joly. It's okay. You're going to be okay, Joly. Please," he says. He draws me into his arms gently, planting a kiss on the top of my head. I look at him, and there are tears in his eyes. I cough, blood dripping out the corner of my mouth. I try to smile, but oh-god-I-can-barely-breathe-and-it-just-hurts-so-m uch. Through the god-awful pain, I feel Bossuet wiping the blood off my face. Tears are running freely from both of us by now. The fighting is dying down, but Bossuet shows no sign of giving me up to anyone, for anything. People are beginning to gather. The other survivors. In a daze, I see Bossuet is hurt. Slowly, because it hurts to move, I reach up and run my hand along the saber-wound in his arm, whispering dumbly, "You're hurt." Bossuet just nods and wipes his eyes. I feel my strength draining, and I just want to give up. But I can't. No one will let me, especially Bossuet. Vaguely, I register the reassuring comments the others are trying to tell us. Combeferre walked over and is checking the wound in my back. He shakes his head sadly, whispering to Bossuet, "I can't do anything. I'm-" here he breaks off, choking on his words when he sees the look of desperation Bossuet is giving him. Combeferre stands up and ushers everyone else away, taking one last look before going himself. Bossuet clutches me, sobbing. I can hear him saying words through it, but it all sounds detached, as if I'm floating away. In my stupor, I reach up and gently touch his face. Gasping now, I try to get my words out clearly. "Bossuet, I love you, and I always will. Never doubt that." He nods, sniffling loudly and grabbing my hand. "Tell Musichetta I love her, too." Through slotted eyes, I see him, and hear him speaking in a much stronger voice, "I will. I love you too, Joly." I remember smiling, and closing my eyes to the light. Before I fall prey to blissful unconsciousness, I feel a light kiss on my forehead. I am finally at peace.