Not sure how many people will actually read this, this being based on a very old and very popular book/musical. But here goes. My two favorite characters meet in heaven. Don't really know what do say about the rest of this. Except um...yeah. That's all I got.

Will you join in our crusade?

Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables, the lyrics or the characters. They all belong to their respectable owners (which is to say, not me).

Enjolras opened his eyes to the biting cold. There was a throbbing in his head that ricocheted over the seemingly vast white abyss before him. He ran a hand through his hair and took a step forward. It brought down agonizing pain that pulsated from his torso. Gasping in pain, Enjolras looked down at the gaping hole in his chest. In the wind, the fabric of his clothing fluttered around the wound, the surrounding tatters a mix of fired gunpowder and drying blood. He peered at the hole, confused, and slowly perused his findings. His mind registered a soft, gushy feeling, but there was no more pain to accompany it. He retracted his hand and frowned at it, for it had not drawn a single drop of blood.

"There's no need for wounds here." A voice called from above. Enjolras could hear it smiling by the way they said it; teasingly.

He stepped forward towards the voice in the mist, his footstep echoing.

"That's what got you here in the first place." The voice came again, this time from somewhere behind Enjolras. He turned to face the other side. A thin layer of fear appeared over his brow.

"Who's there?" He took a stride in the other direction and his shoes clicked again.

A shadow appeared in the mist behind him. Sensing a presence, Enjolras turned, half-hunched, anxious for the dark figure to come towards him. The stature seemed to almost glow in the mist as it continued. A lump formed in Enjolras throat and the fear on his brow increased.

In the moment before the visitor became clear to him, Enjolras murmured, "Steel yourself, Enjy. Nothing to be frightened of. Just a figure."

Finally the shape formed into a person and she became clear to him. She wasn't as dirty, as bloody as the last time Enjolras had seen her. Looking up at him, Eponine smiled, her lips unbroken. She was donned in the man's coat and cap. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets. Her hair was clean and swept over her left shoulder.

It took his breath away just looking at her, and he was dead.

He gulped down. Hard. "What—where am I?" Steel yourself, he thought once more. It's just Eponine. She's just Eponine.

But oh, she was so much more.

Carefully, she leaned forward and took his hand in hers. She looked into his eyes and toyed with the idea of a smile for a moment before letting the façade fall. "Do you know where you are?" she asked slowly.

"Yes." The word was brought out as a sharp exhale. Enjolras could not tear his gaze away from her gleaming eyes. He brought a hand to cover the bullet hole in his chest. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

She broke eye contact to look at his shoes, bit her lip before speaking. "Yes." Her voice trembled slightly, but he pretended to not notice. He wanted his Eponine strong. He needed Eponine strong.

Then the angel looked up again. "Close your eyes," she instructed. He complied.

And like that, they were sitting on the rooftop of the ABC Café. Enjolras sucked in the beauteous French air and grinned. The fog had lifted. He looked down upon his barricade. It was being dismantled by the few left standing, and it made the leader of the rebellion to purse his lips. There were bodies strewn below him, pools of blood, empty cartridges and flags waving mutely in the early morning breeze. Red and black…

"It was all pointless, wasn't it?" He breathed out.

Eponine broke away from the barricade and turned to face him. "Pointless?"

"Yes, pointless!" Enjolras almost yelled. He shut his eyes in an attempt to calm himself. "You—my friends—so many other people—they all lost their lives fighting for a lost cause. I have failed the people of France."

It was Eponine's turn to purse her lips. She squeezed his hand once more, making him turn his head to face her. "Oh no, Enjolras," she said quietly, eyes unblinking. "You have not failed."

He blinked, and like that, they were following close behind the single man left at the barricade. He was sweeping away the litter of battle with a push-broom. As he shuffled forward, so did Eponine. She attempted to tug Enjolras along, but he stopped, unable to keep the fear from his eyes. "Can't he…can't he see us?"

Eponine rolled her eyes. "Oh please! He's in the land of the living. He couldn't see us even if he tried," and pulled him forward once more.

As the young man tripped along, he began to hear a familiar tune just sung under the cleaning man's breath. "Will you join in our crusade…who will be strong and stand with…beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see…do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men…

"…There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes…"

The two angels exchanged a glance; she one of knowledge, he one of amazement. Enjolras blinked once more and they were climbing up a seemingly unending staircase, with the girl he loved leading. She was still gripping onto his hand.

"You see, Enjolras," she shouted over the wind. "Those who have passed on are not the same as those who have been forgotten."

He licked his lips and continued to climb the stairs, his mind reeling. Maybe his words had touched some people after all. Maybe he wasn't a lost cause.

The escort reached the top step, barely out of breath. Enjolras found he didn't need it anymore. She turned to face him, a warm look settling upon her usually sharp, cold face. It was an unusual appearance for Eponine, but he found he liked it.

There was a gate made of rusted metal, with words of which he could not read set over the crest. "Words you say today will not be forgotten tomorrow," she continued, her voice growing quiet, "and this gate will always be unlocked for those who are worthy of what awaits on the other side."

She pushed it open and stepped aside for Enjolras to look in. Inside were people he recognized, people he didn't recognize, people in battle armor the color of the stars, and each one was settled on their very own cloud. They all stood and beamed down at the newcomer, and when they did their looks of gratitude filled Enjolras up to his toes, like a thousand rays of sunshine after the rain. He stepped past the threshold and took in even more of the amazement of the other side. "What is this place?" he whispered, his breath taken away in awe.

"Elysian Fields." Eponine answered. All of a sudden, her voice sounded miles away. Enjolras broke his gaze to look back at her.

She was standing on the other side of the gate, smiling sadly had him. Her eyes shimmered slightly. In that moment she looked so small and weak, standing in the big doorway with nothing but a cap and man's coat on, hands shoved once more into the pockets. She pulled one out to wipe her eyes on her sleeve.

"Oh, don't cry. Please don't cry—" Enjolras rushed forward to catch her before she fell into a broken shell of herself, but when he reached the doorway he found there to be an unmistakable force field blocking the Fields of the Virtuous from the rest. He placed both hands on the invisible obstacle before him and stared, helpless, at the girl he loved so dearly in front of him, sleeve poised, ready to wipe away the liquid grief. Her tears fell, and he wasn't there to catch them.

She gazed up into his eyes as they mirrored hers, and smiled bitterly as she managed a coarse attempt at laughter. "Don't pity me, Enjy," she muttered, and wiped away the tears that he could not. "You deserve to be there, with the rest of the brave heroes that died for a good cause."

"But didn't you?"

She laughed again. "I died for a man that never loved me. I died a selfish woman, for no matter how much I wanted him to care for me, he never would in the way I wanted. I was a horrible human being. I don't deserve to be on the side of the righteous." As Enjolras watched her, he saw her mouth the words, with you. He felt his face heat and bristle with heartache.

He felt burning tears drip down his face. He bit down hard so that he wouldn't cry out as she turned away, her head down. "Goodbye, Enjy."

Eponine looked smaller than ever as she went down the staircase and out of his sight. He watched her go, unable to assist his secret love.

I hope you know that you weren't forgotten either.

Angst. Angst everywhere. What did you think? Review box is down there(: Hope you have a good rest of your day, you adorable little readers, you!

~~AgentAva

(PS sorry if I got any of the hist. facts wrong. But since I've never actually read the book or seen the play (YET) I think I did a pretty spankin' good job.)

((Edit: I saw the movie! And it was amazing :D))

Cheers!