"Little people know, when little peoples fight. We make look easy pickin's, but we've got some bite."
A shot rang out. A miss.
Gavroche smiled, ignoring Combeferre trying to call him back to safety. He raised his voice mockingly. "We'll fight like twenty armies, and we won't give up!"
Courfeyrac realized what was happening, that Gavroche was about to be killed. He panicked, trying to climb over the barricade to reach the boy. Combeferre and a few other boys were holding him back.
Another shot rang out. Gavroche stumbled and fell as the bullet pierced him in the side. Holding back tears, he bravely continued on.
"So you better... RUN FOR COVER! When the pup... grows..."
There was another shot that rang out. The barricade fell silent.
This shot came from the revolutionary side.
Marius was holding his pistol out still, from which a bullet that killed the gunsman shooting at Gavroche. Courfeyrac took the opportunity to go and carry Gavroche to safety. "You'll be alright, Gavroche. Joly will patch you up! You'll be alright! You'll be safe!" He said to the boy in his arms, who was clutching his wound in pain.
The little boy was a sorry one, gritting his teeth, holding back tears. He didn't want to seem weak to his older friends.
Joly quickly went to him, ready to tend to him.
The commander of the guard overlooked the death of the gunsman, giving them another chance to surrender. "You at the barricade listen to this! The people of Paris sleep in their beds! You have no chance! Why throw your lives away?"
Enjolras saw through that lie. He knew the people had risen, and that they still were. "Then let us die, facing our foes. Let others rise, to take our place, until the earth is free!"
"FIRE!" Shots began to ring out.
Courfeyrac took Gavroche up to safety in a woman's home, Joly retrieving the bullet out of Gavroche. Gavroche passed out because of the pain, leaving Joly safe from him squirming around and messing him up. Courfeyrac went back down and protected the entrance, shooting out at the National Guard.
The street was suddenly overrun. People, men and women, teens and children, young and old, some rich, mostly poor, all armed.
The people had risen.
The barricade was given a new hope. The guard was equalled, if not outnumbered. The tides had turned as the guard fell left and right. The Amis had all taken place in buildings, shooting from the windows above.
Enjolras clicked his gun. It had shot its last. He cursed, turning around to realize a gun was being pointed at him. He looked from the barrel to see the uniform of the Guard.
He dropped his empty gun, quickly scanning near him for weapons. When he saw nothing, he braced himself against the gun, closing his eyes, waiting for the shot.
There was the sound of something hitting something else and the thud of a body.
Enjolras opened his eyes to see Grantaire putting down a chair, the soldier unconscious on the floor. Grantaire picked the soldier's gun up, not looking at Enjolras, who was stunned. Grantaire handed it to him, looking Enjolras in the eye.
"Th-thank you." Enjolras stammered.
"My pleasure, Apollo," Grantaire said, stumbing back to the stairs. "I'd love to help, but I'd probably shoot the wrong side, or myself. Good night."
He went back downstairs, leaving a shocked Enjolras alone. He shook his head, going back to the window and taking aim.
He smiled slightly as he fired.
The battle was won.
The Guard was reduced to no more than surrendering survivors. The bodies of both sides were scattered in the streets, but there was a clear difference in numbers.
The Amis had all come out alive, some wounded, but alive. Marius had been shot, and carried off. His status was unknown. Gavroche was starting to recover. Bahorel had been shot badly, but still was holding on to life. Of everyone who had orginally been in this barricade, the only death was of Eponine. The friends rejoiced, happy to be alive and together. The people had risen, the battle won, the guard defeated.
The new day was dawning, and they were all still there to see it bloom.