Losses at the barricades
A/N: This plays the day after the fall of the barricades, both musical-verse and book. See the girl as whatever you want, she's not the one that's important.
Disclaimer: I'm still not Victor Hugo. I don't own the students or the place.

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"What happened?" my skirts rustled over the dirty Parisian street as I ran towards the group of women. They were standing at the crossroads close to the rue de la Chanvrerie where the students had been planning to build their barricades. One of the older ones looked at me and studied my expensive dress, obviously trying to decide whether or not she should tell a wealthy girl about the revolution. "What happened?" I had reached the group by now and finally she started to talk. "Those poor boys mademoiselle, couldn't have been much older than you are. I already told Marie here that it was stupid of them to go on, even after the guards had requested them to surrender."
I looked past the group and my heart froze at the sight of the street. Remains of what must have been the barricades lay scattered across the stones. Blood was spattered against every house and smeared on every other surface. "Are they all…?" I hardly dared to ask, would I want to know how it had ended. The woman nodded. When tears sprung in my eyes she closed her arms around me and hugged me like a caring mother. Normally I wouldn't have allowed it. The woman was lower in rank, much lower, but today I couldn't have cared less, it even felt reassuring that there was some one who supported me.
"Brother?" one of the others asked, I couldn't bare the sympathetic look in her eyes and quietly shook my head. "Non, un ami." As soon as I spoke those words my heart started to protest. It wasn't true, not all of them, it couldn't be. I couldn't believe the words they were saying, although the evidence was right before my eyes. I just didn't want to accept that they'd all died.
"They have laid them all in Auberge Corinthe mademoiselle. But it's a terrible sight, I wouldn't go if I were you." She told me, but I didn't respond. I had to see it, had to say goodbye one last time. When I started to walk towards the café she had pointed out my heart became colder with every step. The entrance was right in the middle between the two barricades, a headquarter for the students.

The bell above the door rang when I walked in, a single noise in the deadly silence. A sound that, although it was supposed to be happy, had never sounded this rough. It invaded my soul and broke my heart in thousand pieces. I stood still for a moment when I saw all the corpses. The students occupied all the tables, white and silent, wounded and weak. Most of them wore the French flag as around there waist or as a cape. When I walked on I noticed that I knew so many, Courfeyrac as one of them. But also Grantaire, Combeferre and Feuilly.
My heart stopped when I saw his body, his face was smeared with blood and his clothes were torn and dirty. "No" I shivered uncontrollably, not able to move. "No, no, no…" Tears started rolling down my cheeks but finally I found the strength to walk up to his table. The sight was even more horrific from close by and I brought my hand up to my mouth. His face was white and his eyes were closed, the smile he had shot me so many times was gone forever. Tenderly I brushed one of the blonde curls from his face, still fighting to understand what had happened. I knew him, I knew he wanted to… no… had to fight for the people, for freedom. I hadn't even tried to talk him out of it, knowing it wouldn't matter. He had been planning this for so long and still it had ended like this.
"Why?" the question was more of a whisper as I softly stroked his hair. A tear dropped on his forehead and left a clean trail in the blood. "Why?" Why did he have to die? Why him? Why now? Why like this?
I tried to be strong but at the same moment I realised that he would never look at me anymore, never lay a supporting arm around my shoulder again. Realising I would never beat him at chess and what hurt mostly, never being able to tell him how much he really meant to me.
Crying I collapsed on his chest, I had never cried that much in whole my life. Blood spread quickly over the blue fabric of my dress, his blood. "Enjolras." my sobbing could probably even be heard from outside but I didn't care. "Enjolras!" I gripped at his shirt, as if shaking him would bring him back to life, back to me. In the form of his body I tried to hold on to everything he had been. Direct, charming, fighting for what he believed in, fearing not even the worst consequence of all. Death.
And that is why I love him… Why I still do.