The soldiers retreated, leaving a sea of dead men still armed with their guns. It started to rain, and Enjolras could see Marius bent over on the concrete. He walked over to the suffering man.
"Marius, I'm truly sorry about that girl."
"That girl has a name!" Marius cried out. Enjolras raised his eyebrows. It was probably his Colette again.
"Let me guess. Colette, Curette, Courgette, whatever her name was." Marius felt like slapping Enjolras. The leader could remember everything a revolution needed, but he couldn't remember the name of one girl, and that one girl who Enjolras thought Marius was thinking about was not really the girl he thought Marius was thinking about. If that made any sense.
"It's Cosette! Plus, that's not who I was thinking about. It's Eponine."
"Who's that?"
"She's the one who followed me around everywhere. She just confessed her love to me, and I just realized I love her. Enjolras, what have I done? I made her deliver letters to someone else I thought I loved, for goodness sake!" Marius cried. Enjolras put his hands up.
"Don't ask me. I don't know anything about love. You should be going to Grantaire or Courfeyrac for that matter." Marius glared at the blonde. On the barricade, Feuilly pulled out a wine bottle and started to sing to calm down the rest of the revolutionaries. He was quite good.
"Drink with me, to days gone by. Sing with me, the songs we knew." He started while popping open the top. The rest of the Amis joined.
"Here's to pretty girls who went to our heads." Prouvaire sang.
"Here's to witty girls who went to our beds." Joly chuckled. Everybody else laughed as well.
"Here's to them, and here's to you!" they all joined in.
"Drink with me, to days gone by. Can it be, you fear to die? Will the world remember you when you fall? Could it be your death means nothing at all? Is your life just one more lie?" Grantaire mused thoughtfully. Marius felt a tear slip down his cheek. It was true. No one would remember you when you died.
"Do I care if I should die? Yes, she risked her life for me! Life without 'Ponine means nothing at all. Will you see, 'Ponine, if I were to fall? Will you weep, 'Ponine, for me?" Marius cried.
"Soldiers approaching the barricade!" Courfeyrac yelled. Combeferre threw down guns to everybody, and Enjolras lead them to their places. "They have cannons!"
At those words, everybody froze. Cannons meant that soldiers were certainly going to storm the place. Their barricade would be blown up! The sound of footsteps grew louder.
"Shoot the cannon people!" Enjolras ordered. The Amis fired their guns at thee approaching guards. The people wheeling the cannons went down, but reinforcements appeared behind them, taking their place.
"And, FIRE!" the head guard shouted. A cannonball exploded into the barricade. Debris was scattered all over the floor, and dust settled on the men. People scattered, but some remained shooting. Soldiers started climbing the barricade. Enjolras panicked, and told his remaining friends to go inside the café. He searched with Marius for a piece to barricade the door. Marius got shot, and Enjolras helped him up. The volunteer, also known as Valjean, took the injured boy into his arms.
Enjolras barricaded the door and beckoned for everybody to come upstairs. They obeyed, but while they tried to make their escape, a pounding at the door sounded. The soldiers were trying to break through!
Gunshots came from outside, and soldiers were streaming in through the ruined and destroyed barricade. A group of college boys ran up the stairs of the Café Musain and onto the top floor.
They didn't know that there were soldiers underneath them, ready to shoot from the bottom floor. Courfeyrac whimpered in fear, and Joly was shaking madly, muttering facts about medicinal herbs which Enjolras found totally unnecessary at the particular moment. They stood rock still until they heard the voice of the head soldier calling out a command.
"FIRE!" Shots rang out, and everybody around Enjolras collapsed, dead, except for him. He was terrified now, did he really have to die alone? No. Out of the corner of his eye, Enjolras saw the red flag that represented his revolution. The slapping of shoes against wood was getting louder. The National Guard was getting closer to him, which meant Death was ready to take his life.
"There he is! Shoot him!" shouted the head guard. Suddenly, a figure came lumbering out of the shadows. Grantaire strolled towards him, obviously not afraid of death. He whispered into Enjolras' ear.
"When they say fire, jump out the window and run." Enjolras was about to question this when he heard the cue.
"FIRE!" another set of bullets came flying, but Grantaire shielded Enjolras while the blonde jumped out the window. There was no going back now. Grantaire had died for him, even though Enjolras had wanted to die himself. Enjolras fell through the air. He breathed in the smell of gunpowder, bringing back the horrid thoughts of his dead friends.
Everybody had died, except for him, and maybe Marius. Enjolras ran and ran through the streets, not even knowing where he was going but trying to steer clear of soldiers. The sounds of shooting ceased, the National Guard probably realized that there was no one left at the barricade to shoot. Where to go?
He decided to go back to his flat. It supplied everything he needed, and maybe Enjolras needed to disguise himself when he went public. The people wouldn't see him as a hero, but a criminal. He would always be the bourgeois bad guy in their minds.
As Enjolras walked, he thought about how he didn't get shot, which was very lucky, but he had some wounds and scars that could never be closed. He would be scarred with the thought of his dying friends.
Those were the words that came to his mind as Enjolras passed out on the pavement below him, right next to the Seine.
