Setting: Canon Era
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, Drama
Characters: Combeferre, Enjolras
Warnings: character death
Word Count: 391
A/N: Happy (?) barricade day, everyone!
I am so out of writing practice. Please just take this already.
Title comes from Anne Carson's Antigonick.
and when my strength is gone i'll stop
Combeferre, transfixed by three blows from a bayonet, had only time to cast a glance to heaven when he expired.
Grapeshot hailed all around them still. Combeferre, at that moment shielded from the onslaught of bullets by the mattress shot down by the white–haired gentleman, saw a man felled by a single shot, crimson steadily blooming through where it had pierced his back. The smoke from the gunpowder obscured Combeferre's view of the man's clothing, but the sunlight that glinted on the golden curls as the man fell made it unmistakable.
Enjolras!
Against all reason, Combeferre ran into the field of fire, miraculously remaining untouched by the fighting when he reached the man. It was not Enjolras, as it turned out, but a soldier. Neither was he a man, but only a boy no older than Combeferre himself. And yet, Combeferre kneeled beside him, keeping his head down as he gingerly turned the boy onto his back. The boy was breathing still, however shallowly that made Combeferre fear that it would stop before he could help. The boy's smooth face bore a striking resemblance to Enjolras.
"He might be your brother."
"He is."
Oh, Enjolras.
As Combeferre lifted the boy onto his shoulders, determined to bring him to safety, he raised his eyes to the heavens for one brief moment. It was a different kind of rain that was falling now, dripping down onto Combeferre's glasses.
This turned out to be his undoing. The fog that blurred his vision and the momentary distraction of looking up at the dawn made Combeferre fail to notice another soldier approaching. Before he knew it, the bayonet had gone through his chest.
Combeferre looked at his attacker as he sank to his knees, unable to support both his weight and that of the soldier on his back. This other soldier was also young, hands trembling as he looked at them with disbelief at what he'd just done.
Then a shot rang out, and the soldier fell as well. Combeferre turned his head toward the direction of the shot, and saw Enjolras staring back at him, lips trembling and with a smoking rifle in hand.
"Ce n'est rien," he mouthed, hoping Enjolras would understand. Enjolras nodded back.
Combeferre looked into Enjolras' eyes, blue as the summer sky, and smiled.