On the Death of a Saint

by xFictionalMenRTheRealThingx

A series of 3 or 4 stories, looking at the deaths from others perspectives, where possible. I know, a bit dreary perhaps, but the idea came to me, so I may as well publish it. Please read/review and all that jazz / I OWN NONE OF THE CHARACTERS. Victor Hugo and the 2012 film people own it/ rated T because I'm not sure that death scenes are really K material, in my oppinion

3. Chapter 3

OK, The death of Enjorlas and Grantaire (I hope I have him in the right place now! haha), from the perspective of the two soldier people who shoot them.

My apologies for the horrendously long wait. I've had a lot on my plate recently, what with ASs, coursework, personal statments and the like.

I don't think that there will be any more after this, but I'm entertaining the thought of doing Javert's suicide, from the perspective of someone looking out of a window. If you have any ideas about anyone else I could do, drop me a PM :)

As always, a review or a follow would be lovely :)

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The two french soldiers ran up the stairs of the ABC, having followed the Revolution leader up them. Just about all the other revolutionaries were gone, and this one was cornered.

There he was, standing by the window, in his very conspicuous red coat, now spattered with muck and blood. There was a hint of panic in his eyes, but he stood tall and proud, knowing he was going to die for what he believed in.

The soldiers raised their muskets, and aimed, but they heard steps behind them. Another one of the students appeard at the top of the stairs. He barely threw them a glance before making his way over to his friend. They looked at each other, and then turned together to face the soldiers. The soldiers then looked at each other, hints of doubt creeping into their eyes. All these students had wanted was freedom, equality. What was so bad about wanting that? Then they remebered their duty, and turned back to the students, who still stood straight and proud. Go on their eyes said. We're ready. Just do it.

The Soldiers raised their muskets again, and shot without hesitation. They hit the dark haired one, but the one in the red coat had been missed. He looked at his fallen comrade, shock and sadness fleeting into his eyes for a second. Then all emotion was gone. He looked at them, and squared his shoulders. They shot. The force of the bullet had him thrown out the window backwards, and when the soldiers left the building, they saw him there, hanging upside down, in the flag of his failed revolution, arms spread wide, and his face at peace.

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So, there it is, the probably last chapter. Thank you for reading it. If you like it, follow/favourite/review, and who knows, there may yet be another chapter...