A/N: So this chapter is a bit messy and violent. For warning, I re-re-re time a million watched episode six of Band of Brothers. Not the best idea before writing a chapter on war wounds.

So forewarning, this chapter is heavy.

Whatever Eponine had been expecting from her new occupation, this was not it.

"More pressure, Eponine!" Joly yelled frantically as he hurried to prepare his instruments. The poor wounded student thrashed wildly around as Eponine attempted to stall the bleeding in his shoulder.

The wound was deep but Joly explained to her that if they worked quickly enough, it would not be fatal. The man (more like boy) was lucky, though Eponine highly doubted he'd see it that way. The bullet had just narrowly missed a major artery in the boy's leg, but it would be at least half a year before he could walk unaided again.

Her endeavours to help the wounded young men of the barricades left her more disgusted with her country. To be passive in their murdering of innocent people was one thing. Eponine tried to pretend that the upper class of France were merely ignorant to the suffering of their fellow citizens. To shoot young men in what seemed to her like nothing more than a desperate attempt to continue their lofty lifestyle was beyond what Eponine could imagine. It was hard to comprehend that level of cruelty, even after everything she had faced in her short life.

The young man who Eponine didn't know continued to thrash about.

"Calm down, monsieur," Eponine said in the voice she reserved for her siblings after a particularly horrific nightmare. "You'll be alright, we'll fix you right up."

"You don't understand," the student said with audible frustration. "I need to get back to the barracks. They need me," he gritted out.

"They need you alive, Lemont," Joly corrected as he knelt down next to Eponine. He turned his attention to his novice nurse. "When I say go, take the rag away. I'll pull out the bullet then you stitch him up. Got it?"

Eponine nodded and took the needle and tread from Joly's outstretched hand. At his command, she pulled the rag away and winced as the poor young man screamed when Joly dug the bullet out.

Joly nudged her and almost mechanically, Eponine went about stitching the man up. With each student that came into that small cafe, the more detached she became. The litres of blood and the number of glazed, lifeless eyes that stared back at her would haunt her nightmares for her remaining days, no matter how numbered they seemed to be.

Eponine had only just sat back on her heels to examine her work when Lemont shot up and vanished from the cafe, eager to get back to the front lines. He limped along, holding the wall for support, moving on shear dedication.

Eponine had a haunting feeling that the next time he passed through the cafe, Lemont wouldn't be as lucky as he was the first time.

"Good work," Joly called to her from the other side of the room where he was pouring liquor on his various tools in a desperate attempt to bring some sanitation to the cafe. "You make a fine nurse."

Eponine felt a flush darken her tan cheeks. It wasn't often that she was complimented. "Thank you, monsieur, but I'm only doing what you tell me to."

"What do you think an education is, Eponine?" Joly asked as he bent down to check on an unconscious patient. "Someone taught me how to treat my patients, too. You seem to have an innate skill in the field, though."

Eponine opened her mouth to respond before the doors opened with a crash. Enjolras rushed in, half-dragging/half-carrying a wounded Feuilly with him.

Joly rushed to help the revolutionary leader move Feuilly down to the ground so that they could examine his wounds. Eponine rushed over and collapsed to her knees next to the body, hardly feeling the sting.

Feuilly's breaths were heaving, coming out in sharp gasps, and his hand was clutched over his bleeding heart. His green eyes were rolling back in his head as he tried desperately to stay awake.

Eponine and Joly worked immediately, ripping the shirt open, sending pearl-coloured buttons scattering. After a moment, Joly collapsed from his knees and looked up at Enjolras, shaking his head firmly.

Eponine felt her heart drop at the sign. Even with her minimal at best medical experience, she could tell that there was no way that Feuilly could survive his wounds. He was shot twice in his chest. One by his lung and one by his heart. Their tools and make-shift bandages would not be enough to piece the fan maker back together.

Enjolras dropped to his knees beside Joly and smoothed his hand over Feuilly's forehead, trying desperately to offer some form of comfort to his friend.

"You're going to be okay," Enjolras lied, not sure what to say to the dying soldier. "They'll get you all fixed up."

Feuilly offered him a weak smile, though Eponine could tell he was trying to ease the loss for Enjolras. Enjolras, for all his many talents, was a horrific liar. Joly and Enjolras each grasped one of Feuilly's hands in a desperate attempt to comfort the dying man.

After a few last gasping breaths, Feuilly's head lulled to the side and his chest ceased movement. Joly checked the pulse on the young man's wrist briefly before carefully laying the fanmaker's arm across his chest. Enjolras copied the movement, blue eyes empty of emotion.

The revolutionary leader sprang to his feet suddenly with a frustrated growl. Enjolras began pacing furiously, his blood soaked hands pulling through his blonde hair, leaving it stained with streaks of red. "Why are they doing this to us?" He asked, looking not at his two medics, but towards the ceiling. "Are their opera tickets and furs really so important?"

"They fear loss like everyone else, Enjolras," Joly said quietly, careful not to rile his leader when he was in his current state of mind. "They'll come around, I have faith."

"Their loss is nothing more than trivialities when compared with the poverty of their fellow citizens," Enjolras bit out harshly. Enjolras levelled a look at Joly and, after a moment, stood up straighter. "They can only stay blind for so long."

Eponine furrowed her brow at their explanation for the lack of participation from their fellow Parisians. To her, they seemed a little off the mark but she kept her mouth shut, busying her hands with cleaning the blood of Feuilly's face.

Enjolras turned his attention to Eponine. "Marius is fine," he informed her harshly. Eponine excused his tone as grief for his fallen friend. "Still prattling on about this girl and their so-called lost love but he's alive."

"Thank you, monsieur," Eponine said gratefully, not even feeling the usual pain of jealousy at the mention of Cosette. She was far too relieved to know that Marius was still standing strong.

Besides, if her Marius was alive, maybe there was still hope for her as well. If Cosette really did leave the country for England then Eponine had a shot at winning Marius's heart from the claws of her former victim.

A part of her brain scolded her quickly for her dark thoughts. Is Marius's misery really worth it for her own happiness? Did she really think that Marius's could save her from the life she was condemned to? It was unlikely. Still, it was that one hope that kept her going throughout the hard years.

"Enjolras," the revolutionary corrected swiftly, the edge of loss still present in his tone. "Please, Mademoiselle, we are equals. Your work here today proves that fact." With that final statement, Enjolras bent down to Fuilley, laying a large hand on the young man's face, closing the blank green eyes for the last time.

Feuilly couldn't have been much older than herself, Eponine decided. His baby fat was still present, masking his sharp cheekbones and softening his prominent nose. It was hard to picture what he would have been like when he was older, when wrinkles would litter his face and his brown hair would be streaked with grey. Eponine supposed they would never have the pleasure of knowing.

Her mind drifted to the rest of the revolutionaries fighting in the streets. None of the students were much older than her. None of the Les Aims de l'ABC had a wife or children. Most didn't even have proper jobs that earned them a solid living. She very much doubted that many had been in love. They had so much to experience and it was likely to be gone in a flash of gun powder or the strike of a sword. That realization sent a chill down her spine and fed her growing anguish towards the state of her country.

Eponine's thoughts were startled as Enjolras quickly exited the cafe without a parting word, slamming the door behind him.

"Eponine," Joly called from the 'bedside' of a patient. "Can you make some compresses for the wounded? I fear that if their wounds don't take them, the fevers will."

Eponine nodded and set about her work as quickly as she could, making cold compresses to place over the brows of the wounded.

It was odd for Eponine to feel so focused on the task at hand. Often, as she robbed the rich and helped her father steal, she would drift to thoughts of Marius to keep her going. As she tended to the soldiers that littered the floor of the rather dingy cafe, Marius barely came to her mind. When he did, it was as she thought about how the battle was unfolding and his personal safety.

Her patients needed her more than Marius did, Eponine decided. There were more important matters at hand.

Eponine shuffled around on her knees between each patient, cooing words of comfort as she inspected their bandages (which were really just torn up flags and clothing left strewn in the mad haste to build the barricade) and felt their foreheads for emerging fevers.

It wasn't long before there was another crash as an unknown soldier burst into the cafe. "Eponine!" He cried, moving to the centre of the room. "Enjolras sent me. It's Marius, he's been shot and-"

Without waiting to hear the remainder of the message, Eponine tore from the cafe, running desperately towards the front lines.

A/N:

Sorry this chapter is a drag. To be honest, most of the story is a drag for at least two or three other chapters. Such is life in the 1830s, though.

I just want to send a huge thank you to everyone who read this story and enjoyed it. I have honestly never received so much feedback, as my fandoms have all either been far too huge to get noticed in or far too small to have over four hundred people read your first chapter in three days! It's absolutely fantastic. Apologies that it took so long to reply to them. When I was originally on , that wasn't a thing. I didn't know you could do it but I do now!