Grantaire stumbled around the barricade, unsure of what to do or how to help. Things were bad. Very bad. Everywhere people were dead or dying. His friends' bodies were strewn around; broken rag dolls riddled with bullets by the damn National Guard.

They wouldn't have known it, but he was actually sober. Something about seeing your closest companions being shot in the back tended to clear your mind. It had been Jolly he'd watched die. Grantaire had tried to get to him in time, had called out to warn him, but he had been too far away.

But that soldier… Grantaire had taken care of him. While the man had bent over Joly's body Grantaire had come up behind the man and choked him into submission before using the soldier's own gun on him.

And now that wore the dead man's hat and coat he could move around the barricade unchecked. He went in and out of the buildings looking for anyone left alive. So far he hadn't found anyone that could be saved.

Enjolras tightened the tourniquet on his arm and secured a bandage over a gash in his side before resting his head against an empty shelf. He wasn't a coward by any means; he was merely holed up in the wine shop trying to stay alive. Someone needed to survive this massacre and keep hope alive for the poor people of France. The revolution would live on.

When he heard the door open Enjolras scurried behind the shelf. Peeking out, he sneered at the National Guard that stepped into the room. The revolutionary searched in vain for a weapon. Defenseless or not he would not go out without a fight. He picked up a wine bottle as he could smash it over someone's head. Contemplating that brought a sad smile to his lips as he thought of Grantaire.

The man moved further into the shop. "Is anyone in here? There's no use in hiding, I will find you."

Enjolras blinked uncomprehending. The man sounded like Grantaire; but why would he be dressed like the enemy unless… It was brilliant! His friend was looking for survivors while fooling the National Guard.

"Grantaire?"

"Enjolras, is that you?"

The wounded man limped out from his hiding place. "It's good to see you, my friend."

The two embraced.

"Are there any others alive?" Enjolras asked.

Grantaire shook his head. "Not that I've found. I tried to help, but I couldn't save anyone. But I took down a few of them; that's how I got this outfit."

Enjolras looked down. "So everyone, even Marius, is dead?"

"Marius was wounded," Grantaire explained. "But I'm not sure what became of him."

"This was a disaster," Enjolras whispered. "I cause this, the deaths of all my friends."

Grantaire clasped Enjolras on the shoulder. "It's not your fault; you didn't know this would happen. Hell, if I had been sober I could have saved a few more people."

"Take your own advice," Enjolras told him. "Maybe if I had loosened up and had a drink or two I could have been talked out of this madness."

"Let's just keep looking for survivors," Grantaire said. "I haven't searched everywhere."

In another room they found an unconscious woman with several wrapped wounds. On closer inspection Grantaire found the girl was breathing, but just barely. It seemed that she had passed out and had been left for dead, a cruel fate for anyone let alone a woman.

But when he brushed the hair out of the girl's face he paled. "Enjolras, it's Eponine!"

"Eponine?" Enjolras crossed the room and knelt down, ignoring the pain in his side. "Marius said she was dead."

"He obviously tended her wounds and tried to help her," Grantaire observed. "Maybe she fainted and he thought she…"

"We have to get her help," Enjolras said, cutting off his friend. "We also need to get as far away as possible. Have you seen Marius' body?"

"I've seen a lot," Grantaire replied darkly. "Too much, actually. Marius was wounded and carried off by… by that man who saved your life. I haven't seen either of them since."

The men slipped away from the barricade, Eponine wrapped in Grantaire's arms since Enjolras was injured. The two found horses and rode off in search of a safe place to recover. They only hoped Eponine could hold on.

Grantaire paced the hall of the monastery, worried sick over his friends. For once he had even passed on a cup of hot ale, deciding instead to drink a strong tea. Enjolras had been quickly tended to and he was sleeping off his exhaustion.

Eponine was a different case. The monks were unsure if she would recover, as she had been gravely wounded and then left to bleed for an unknown amount of time. Only time would tell if she would ever wake up.

"Monsieur?"

Grantaire turned towards the monk who had addressed him. "Yes?"

"Would you like to go sit with your friends?" he asked.

"Is Eponine awake?" Grantaire asked hopefully.

"Not yet," the monk replied. "We have been praying for her."

"So have I," Grantaire replied. "Thank you again for all you've done."

The monk nodded. "Of course."

Enjolras snapped awake breathing heavy and clasped his hand to his heart. The smoke and screaming had stopped as soon as his eyes opened, but he wasn't used to nightmares that plagued his attempt at peace.

He tried to regain his bearings, reminding himself that the stone walls surrounding him were a monastery and not a prison. Glancing to his left, Enjolras saw Grantaire passed out in one of the other beds. Looking to his right his heart dropped.

Eponine didn't look like she was sleeping, she looked dead. She was pale and Enjolras had to move to her side before he could tell that she was breathing. Sitting on the bed he took her hand and tried to rub some warmth back into it.

"Marius, you ass," he cursed. "It's your fault this happened to her." He stroked the hair out of his face. "If it had been me, Eponine, I would have dedicated myself to you."

"But that's how you are, my friend." Grantaire propped himself up on his arm. "You're very single minded and you give yourself fully to your causes. This is why all the girls loved you; they all wanted to be the center of your world."

"This isn't about me," Enjolras argued, although a flush colored his face. "This is about Eponine giving everything to Marius and him turning his back on her. She saved his life for god sake and what did he do in return? He left her to die alone." He clenched his hands into tight fists and winced at the pain that shot up his left arm.

"I didn't realize Eponine cared about him that much," Grantaire admitted. "We all made fun of Marius when he fell for that Cosette girl, but look at everything Eponine did for them. She ran letters back and forth between them and she was the reason those two met. I can't imagine the heartache she was feeling listening to him go on and on about Cosette."

Enjolras smiled. "I didn't realize you had such empathy."

Grantaire shrugged. "I guess it comes with sobriety. Now that I'm not numb to the world I suddenly care. I don't know if I like it."

Enjolras laughed. "You are one of a kind, Grantaire."

The other man flashed a warm smile. "I'd hope so."

"Eponine is going to need us to get her though this," Enjolras said. "Are you up for that?"

"Of course I am," Grantaire said. "And speaking of, when she wakes up we should talk about getting out of here. I don't want to impose on these good men longer than necessary."

"We don't have much money," Enjolras said. "Where would we go and who would take us in; we're wanted men."

"Do you really think that?" Grantaire asked. "We're dead. Enjolras. The National Guard won't want to admit that you escaped so we're free to start a new life. And I have money."

"You didn't steal it, did you?"

"Dead men can't take it with them," Grantaire said. "And don't look at me like that, those men were ruthless, they owe us."

"You better confess before we leave here," Enjolras said, shaking his head. "It would be good for you soul."

A muffled sigh drew the men's attention.

"Eponine?" Enjolras slid his hand in hers again. "We're here."

"Marius…?" She whispered.

"It's Enjolras, 'ponine. Grantaire is here too."

"Where am I? What…"

"Shhh," Grantaire soothed. "Just rest Eponine; you're safe now."

"Safe?" she whispered. "I'm alive. Is Marius…" She broke off and coughed. "Is he alright? Where is he?"

"I can't say how or where he is," Enjolras told her gently. "Someone took him from the barricade, a friend we think, but we haven't seen either of them. We were more concerned about you."

"I can't…" Eponine began to tear up. "I can't do this… Why I alive? Where's my brother? Who else survived?"

"You need rest," Enjolras told her. "You're scared and worked up and right now you need sleep. We're here to watch over you, trust us, 'ponine."

"But you won't answer my questions."

"We won't lie to you," Grantaire said. "But you're not ready to hear everything right now. You were badly injured and you need to focus on getting better."

During the next two days while Eponine recovered Grantaire struck out to find a place for them to stay. He found a small cottage for low rent and arranged to lease it for at least two months.

Despite his wounded arm, Enjolras tended to Eponine. She had nightmares about the barricades and cried for an hour straight when she was told about her brother's death. Enjolras had held her and let her cry on his shoulder.

She had clung to him and he had felt horrible when he realized how much he missed holding a girl in his arms. He thought about what Grantaire had said: that when he focused on something he gave his all.

Enjolras knew that he could give all his attention to Eponine; she deserved it after everything she'd been through. But could he turn her thoughts away from Marius? That he wasn't sure of.

Enjolras stood in the small foyer of the cottage. "Grantaire is a terrible cook but we'll find a housekeeper who can help you with your… a maid. Well get you a maid."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you both."

"Anything to help," Grantaire replied. He held out a loaf of bread. "Eat this; it'll help keep your strength up."

"Did you bake it?" Eponine questioned.

Grantaire shook his head and reached for a bottle on the end table. "No, I bought it along with some cheese, meat…"

"And ale," Enjolras cut in. "Grantaire never forgets the ale."

"I think the ale would do us all some good," Eponine spoke up.

"Then let's celebrate our new life," Grantaire said. "To friends, health, and happiness."

"No… No, NO!"

Eponine screamed and the sound of breaking glass brought Grantaire, Enjolras, and the maid. All three ran into the sitting room of the cottage poised for the worst. The maid held a rolling pin, Grantaire his perpetually full bottle of ale, and Enjolras had grabbed the poker from the fire place.

"Miss, what's wrong?" the maid questioned. "You almost gave us heart attacks, what with your banshee scream."

Eponine looked up from her place on the floor, eyes pleading with Enjolras. "Tell me it's not true."

Enjolras knelt down and held Eponine close. "What happened? What has you so upset?"

"Does it have to do with this?" Grantaire picked up the morning paper which had been carelessly tossed on the floor.

"He… She… The banns," Eponine muttered.

Grantaire scanned the page and then paled. " 'Marius Pontmecy, son of the late Colonel Pontmercy, to wed Miss Cosette, the daughter of M. Fauchelevent'." He balled the paper between his hands.

"I hate her!" Eponine cried. "Why should she get everything? Why couldn't my father just leave well enough alone? Why did he have to so greedy and try to take her back? I was glad to be of her, she should have never been with us in the first place. I wish he'd never seen her!"

"I'm done with him," Grantaire sneered. "That boy wouldn't know love it bit him in the…"

"Sir," the maid interrupted. "The Miss doesn't need this. Shall I put some tea on for her?"

"Yes, thank you," Enjolras replied. "I'll take her to her room."

"You can't tell me this doesn't make you angry," Grantaire argued.

"Of course it does," Enjolras replied. "This is not how I would want Eponine to find this out. If I had known I would have told her…" He took a breath and looked into the eyes of the girl in his arms. "Told you in a gentler fashion."

"Why? She questioned. "Why are you acting like this?"

"You're asking why we're being nice to you?" Grantaire questioned.

"Because someone needs to take care of you," Enjolras replied. "And I care about your feelings. I never wanted to see you hurt, 'ponine; especially not over a boy who doesn't deserve you."

Eponine whimpered and hugged Enjolras tighter. He kissed her forehead and lifted her off of the floor. Grantaire watched with a heavy heart as Enjolras carried Eponine from the room. He took another swig of ale and then looked at the crumbled paper in his hand. Unwrinkling it, he read the devastating words again; this time going further down the page.

"This is yesterday's paper," he muttered. Which means the wedding feast is tomorrow. Maybe I should pay my respects to the groom…"