Disclaimer: I'm too inept to own something as glorious as Les Miserables and only have this little one-shot about Enjolras after the barricades fall that came about on a completely random whim.
A pearly whiteness that seemed to be more mist than fog swirled through the air delicately; a crystal that had been shattered and reformed again. It danced about like a wayward snowflake, before coming to a rest in beautiful swirls of nothingness. Standing at the head of a wayward fragment of street was not so much a man than a god. He radiated that mysterious aura of light that none dared to penetrate; however, he could not be more than twenty-five. It was at this youth's feet that the pearly vapors ceased; they tickled his feet before vanishing, leaving only an empty space in their place.
A second figure emerged from the cloud, coming to a rest just behind the first.
"Enjolras. . .?" He reached out a hesitant hand to his companion's shoulder. Said person turned to the dark-haired man, pushing his own golden locks out of the way as he did so.
"We've done it, Combeferre. The republic is free. Equality rules. The revolution has succeeded." He turned once more to the street which he had been observing, so devoid of the usual poverty and misfortune.
"No. . .no, we haven't."
"What are you saying!? It is here, in front of us. There is no more suffering. No more underfed children. No more young girls forced into prostitution to survive. The people of France are at peace."
"Alas, it is not so, mon ami. Happiness still eludes the many unfortunate and desolate souls down on Earth, while the bourgeoisie continue to take everything for themselves. All is not right with the world."
"What are you talking about? What do you mean 'down on Earth'? We ARE on Earth. We are in France, and she has finally been freed." Combeferre smiled sadly.
"You truly haven't seen it yet, have you?" The younger man gave him a deep, searching look, question chiseled onto his marble face. "We have ceased to exist from the world we knew. The revolution didn't change anything. Our deaths were no more than a blot upon the pages of the book of Europe."
Enjolras blinked slightly as he stared at his long-time friend. His head snapped up and swiveled about as the world around him began to collapse; shattered like the varied pieces of a puzzle, until only an endless void of whiteness remained. Then, one-by-one, each of his friends began to materialize around him. Even Grantaire was there, the fool of a wine cask.
"So, even the almighty Enjolras can be swayed by the illusions of heaven, eh?"
"Got the rest of us for awhile too."
"Although I must say that this one is quite a bit more selfless than ours."
"Um. . .actually. . ."
"Marius isn't here. . ."
"Really? Amazing!"
"And for Courfeyac to be the one to notice. . ."
"He's MY friend, I should hope I'd notice!"
"So he's survived then? That rascal!"
"Do they serve absinthe in this place?"
"Come, let us go Fearless Leader."
"We can look down on Pontcy!"
"Don't be ridiculous! He's probably with that love of his right now."
"All the more reason to have a peek."
"Courfeyac! Respect your friend's privacy!"
"You know I never did find out her name. . ."
"Does my tongue look funny to you?"
"You're already dead, Joly, I don't think it will matter if you catch the plague now."
"Wine I say! Where is the wine!?"
As they moved into a more discernable area, which more or less resembled the general vision that people had when they thought of heaven (pearly-white door handles and all) Enjolras saw the many other people in the area, no different states of person discernable amongst them. Children who might have been gamines in their lifetime now skipped past, well-scrubbed and joyful. Former bourgeoisie nodded to scruffy urchins with no form of distaste or revulsion what-so-ever.
As he listened to the chatter of his fellow revolutionaries around him, Enjolras wondered if this was not the freedom he had been fighting for.