A/N: Hello, hello, hello! Welcome to the first chapter. Before you start, I just want to say that this fic takes inspiration from both the book and the movie. The beginning part of the first chapter is specifically a mix of the book and movie. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter One
He is surrounded. The guards block the doorway with their guns pointed straight at him. There is no way out.
Even if there was, Enjolras wouldn't take it. He can see the bodies of Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Joly laying on the floor in front of them. Only moments ago had he watched three of his closest friends crumple from gunfire below. He'd been standing right next to Courfeyrac, yet the bullets missed him.
Now his time comes. His fingers clutch the red flag that he had hoped would symbolize freedom and democracy. Instead, it symbolizes death and loss. But Enjolras is ready. He keeps his fiery blue eyes open; he wants to see the bullets as they come at him and pierce his body. He deserves it for leading his friends to their deaths.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a mop of messy black curls. The stench of alcohol fills his nostrils. Grantaire, who has been passed out drunk for most of the fight, stumbles into his view. His green eyes are wide, and Enjolras can't tell if it's with fear or shock. They lock gazes, but Enjolras can barely look at him. He's sure his eyes communicate to the drunken cynic that everyone else is dead and Enjolras is about to die, too. He expected to be dead by now, but the guards are holding their fire for the time being to see what will happen next.
"Long live the Republic!" yells Grantaire, tearing his eyes away from Enjolras to stare down the guards. Enjolras can't believe what he's hearing. Grantaire always made it clear that he doesn't believe in anything, that he only attended the Amis meetings because he believes in Enjolras. But here he is, publicly declaring his support for the cause Enjolras believes so deeply in.
Grantaire staggers across the room towards Enjolras. He stands beside him and looks directly at the general of the guard.
"Finish both of us at one blow," he says bravely. Then, turning to Enjolras, he asks, "Do you permit it?"
Enjolras realizes something about Grantaire at that moment, but there is no time to think about it further. He reaches out to take Grantaire's hand and smiles. He raises the red flag in his hand triumphantly, hears the gunshots ring out, and then knows no more.
For the first time since leaving her miserable life at the inn, Cosette finds that she cannot sleep. Instead, she lays in an unfamiliar bed and stares at the ceiling, the events of the past few hours replaying in her mind. Could it be just four hours ago she was laying in her own bed at the house in Rue Plumet, fretting over whether Marius had received her note? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Her father had burst into her room, covered in muck and insisting that she come with him right away. She'd hardly had time to dress before Papa was dragging her out to the carriage. He explained to her during the journey that her beloved Marius had been gravely injured during the barricade and that he was taking her to Monsieur Gillenormand's house so that she could be closer to him as he recovered. The whole time Cosette felt her heart was going to pound right out of her chest. She knew Marius was fighting at the barricade, knew there was a possibility he'd be hurt or even killed, but it hadn't felt real until that moment.
When they arrived at Marius's grandfather's house, Marius was unconscious and being tended to by a doctor. Cosette was barely able to see him for five minutes before she was ushered out, but M. Gillenormand gave her and her father rooms to stay in, insisting that they stay as long as it took Marius to recover. The kindness of the old man warms her heart. She doesn't know much about Marius's family, as they haven't had much time for conversation yet, but she doesn't think his grandfather can be all that bad if he is willing to let people he hardly knows stay in his house.
Now all Cosette wants to do is go sit with Marius for a while, watch his chest rise up and down to tell her that he is still alive. However, she knows the doctor will just shoo her out again so there is no point. She's been told he was shot in the collarbone, gotten some sort of bad infection, and needs at least a week's rest before she's allowed to see him. It breaks her heart to know he's in pain and she can't do anything about it, but it helps that she is still so close to him.
A knock at the front door interrupts her thoughts. Her guestroom is just off the main staircase, so she can hear it clearly. At first, Cosette doesn't know what to do. It's not her house, so it's not her place to answer. Besides, what if it's the police? She's not well educated on the background of the revolution, but she can imagine they'll be looking to arrest any surviving insurgents.
Then there's another knock, louder and more urgent. No one is answering it; Cosette suspects the rest of the household is asleep. After all, it must be past midnight. It makes her nervous, but she supposes someone should answer the door. She slips out of bed, puts on her pink silk dressing gown and a pair of slippers, and hurries down the stairs. Her heart is racing again as she unlocks the front door and pulls it open, but it's not the police.
It's two young peasant women holding up a very bloodied man. Cosette can't tell if he is unconscious or dead, but the side of the blood and the multiple wounds in his chest make her feel faint. She takes in deep breaths to steady herself.
"Mademoiselle, please, is this the Gillenormand residence?" asks one of the women. Cosette isn't sure if she should give away that information yet, so she answers the question with questions of her own.
"Who are you? And who is that?" she retorts, pointing to the man. At a closer look, Cosette isn't even sure he can be called a man. He doesn't look much older than her, and his face is very handsome despite being covered in blood and dirt.
"I'm Matelote and this is Gibelote. We're waitresses at the Café Musain," the woman who spoke previously explains. She glances down at the man weighing down her arms. "This is the leader of the rebellion, Enjolras. He needs a doctor. Our boss, Madame Houcheloup, said to bring him here. She said she heard Marius Pontmercy was here and that his doctor might be able to help."
Cosette is still hesitant to let them in, but it's obvious that this man, Enjolras, needs help badly. She allows them to enter and calls for her father. He appears within seconds, followed closely by M. Gillenormand. Neither of them look as if they've slept a wink – they have dark purple smudges under their eyes, especially Papa – but their rooms must be too far away to have heard the knocks.
"Papa, Enjolras is from the barricade. He must know Marius. These women say he needs a doctor's care," recounts Cosette quickly. Because the women appear to be struggling under Enjolras's weight and her father is much stronger, he takes Enjolras into his arms.
"The barricade? I thought Monsieur Pontmercy was the only survivor," says Papa in surprise.
"We all thought so, monsieur. Enjolras was hanging out the window. Today, the women on the street worked to clean the blood and collect bodies, and they saw that he still had a pulse when they went to get him down. It's weak and he's lost a lot of blood, but he is alive," says Gibelote. M. Gillenormand calls for the doctor, and the women leave after being thanked by Papa. Cosette can't take her eyes off Enjolras. He's very pale and drenched in blood, probably mostly his own. She counts eight gunshot wounds in his chest and she cannot believe he is still alive. She has a feeling he won't be for long.
Papa carries Enjolras upstairs and lays him on the bed of the closest unoccupied guestroom. Marius's doctor, Dr. Bonhomme, is escorted into the room by M. Gillenormand. This time, Cosette is not ushered out. She lingers in the doorway and watches as Enjolras's bullet-ridden red jacket is torn off his chest. His wounds are still bleeding. The doctor looks at every single one of them before turning to Papa and M. Gillenormand.
"I don't believe it. Eight bullets and not a single one hit a vital organ or an artery," he says in disbelief.
"Does that mean he'll be alright?" asks Papa. Dr. Bonhomme shakes his head slightly.
"I'm afraid not. He's lost too much blood and five of the wounds appear to be infected. I'll do what I can for him, but it seems his death has only been prolonged by the bullets missing his organs," he says sadly. Cosette watches as Papa stares intently at Enjolras's pale, bleeding figure. She knows that face; he's forming an idea.
"What about a blood transfusion?" he finally says. The doctor looks surprised, as does M. Gillenormand.
"Excuse me?" asks the doctor, as if he did not hear properly. Papa repeats his question, more confidently this time. To Cosette's surprise, M. Gillenormand starts to nod.
"Yes, that could work," he says earnestly. "The boy needs blood, doesn't he? Perhaps he would heal better if we could give him some more."
"It's too risky. Blood transfusions are a new practice, hardly even studied, and they are almost never successful," Dr. Bonhomme refuses.
"Look at him, monsieur. He's dying anyway. We both know he won't survive with all the blood he's lost unless we get more in him. It's worth a try. I'll give my own blood," insists Papa. Cosette wants to stop him – what if he is hurt doing the transfusion? – but there is a fire in his eyes that she has only seen a handful of times. He is determined to help this man and no one can stop him, not even Cosette. His argument works, and the doctor agrees.
"Cosette, go back to your room. You do not need to see this," orders Papa. She doesn't want to leave, but there is a firmness in his voice that tells her he will not allow her to stay. It surprises Cosette a bit because he is usually so gentle with her, but she knows he only has her best interests at heart as always. She kisses his cheek, gives Enjolras one more fleeting glance, and leaves the room. Papa shuts the door behind her.
Finding herself alone in the empty hallway, Cosette decides to go to Marius's room. There is no one to stop her; they will be preoccupied with Enjolras for quite a while, and she needs to be reassured that her Marius is not as bad off as his leader is. As she treks down the hall, she can't get the sight of Enjolras laying in the bed, red blood staining the sheets beneath him, every last inch of him coated in a mixture of blood, dirt, and gunpowder. She'd only seen Marius for a minute, and now she worries that he might be worse than she thought.
Finally, she reaches the door of Marius's bedroom. She turns the knob and pushes the door open. The sight that meets her eyes allows Cosette to breathe. Marius is tucked in under clean white sheets with his arm wrapped in a sling. She enters the room and tiptoes closer to him, careful note to wake him. His cheeks are flushed with fever and there is a bandage wrapped around his collarbone, but there is no visible blood and that is his only wound. Cosette wants to take his hand and sit with him for a while, but she knows how much trouble she would be in if she was discovered. Instead, she gently brushes her lips against Marius's burning forehead and quietly goes back to her own room until morning.