Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables, the wonderful characters or anything else, I just love it!

Pointless Words.

A clicking of guns. Your voice crying out for the future, for the republic, for France. The guns go off. Then silence. It's over and done. You're gone. Dead.

I'm sorry Jean,

I should've noticed sooner, should've noticed that you were missing. Even amidst all the chaos, I should've been more aware of what was going on; called the roll sooner, checked amongst the wounded and the dead faster. Realised you had been taken prisoner…before it was too late. They killed you before we even had a chance to call a truce, to offer a trade….we weren't quick enough.

I'm sorry Jean,

I shouldn't have dragged you into this, I shouldn't have let any of you get caught up in this…but then again, if I had asked you to leave, to go to safety, to abandon the barricade…would you have listened? Would you have gone?

I don't know for certain but I doubt you would have.

You were a good friend and a good person Jean Prouvaire; kind, loyal with a gentle heart… and I let you die

I'm sorry Jean,

Before that attack I overheard you telling Combeferre that you had just had an idea for the greatest poem you had ever written. It was going to be a masterpiece, a piece of literary art. But then the assault began and you didn't have time to write it down, you just remarked to Combeferre that you would write it down after the battle, when there was more time. But there was no more time…you never returned.

Now no-one will ever know what your poem was to be about. Those ideas are lost forever, trapped, never to escape out into the world or into the hearts of others. No-one will ever hear your greatest ever poem.

I'm sorry Jean,

You were a true and valued friend Jehan, but there is no time for mourning.

Another attack will come soon, the barricade must be rebuilt, we must carry on, living and fighting…until death takes us as-well.

The men need their stoic, cold statue…. I cannot mourn, I cannot care.

I'm sorry Jean.

I wish there was something more, something better that I could say, but there isn't. They are just pointless words now anyway. They mean nothing to you. You'll never hear them. But still…..

I'm sorry Jean…I'm so sorry….

6th June 2005,

Barricade Day.

Please review, this is my first Les Mis fic, so please just let me know…

CYA Sparxxa.