New chap and we have reached the revolution!
1832, June
The silence that was slowly spreading over the barricade was almost more suffocating then the sounds of guns and screams which had been heard just a minute before. Now the only thing that was heard was the rain which kept pouring down, hitting the pavement as it kept on drenching all of the young students, the revolutionaries, into their very skin.
Still the rain was not what was on the young students' minds, their focus was elsewhere.
More precisely it was on their friend Marius who was kneeling on the ground, holding the small fragile body of his shadow in his arms as the girl was drawing her last breaths, her chest heaving fast as the blood kept on pouring out from the wound in her stomach, colouring the pavement red as the blood mixed with the rain and never had the colour of this revolution felt more horrid then now.
Enjolras, the firm and constantly ongoing leader of the revolution, was watching the scene which took place in front of him with a face showing both pain and compassion as he saw the girl say something to his friend who had tears in his eyes, Marius whispering something back to her which caused her to smile.
Then Enjolras just knew that the girl was gone, he knew it even before Marius pressed a small kiss to the girl's forehead and cradled her body against his chest, rocking her back and forth in his arms. Enjolras knew because when he saw the girl's chest still, the world around him suddenly felt colder and emptier, but also because he felt strangely lost, his determination to fight for Patria suddenly faltering a little, for was it not for the poor and the miserable like this girl that he had started this revolution in the first place?
He did not know why all of these feelings suddenly washed over him, for he had known that sacrifices would have to be made. Perhaps it was because this girl had been the only true manifestation of the people whom was the biggest reason for this revolution? Or perhaps was it for the fact that she was the first to have fallen because of it when she should have been save?
And that she had fallen because of him.
Fighting down his racing thoughts, Enjolras moved over to Marius and placed a hand on his friends shoulder.
"She was not supposed to be here, why was she here?" His friend whispered the question which made Enjolras feel a surge of spite towards him, how could the man be so oblivious even when the girl had sacrificed her life to save his? How could he not see that she had loved him?
"Jolly, Combeferre, take Marius inside." Enjolras said, his two friends giving him a small nod before taking their mutal friend into the café. "The rest of you make sure the barricade is secured and ready for the next attack, let not this death we have all just witnessed have been in vain!"
His fellow comrades all cheered at his words as Enjolras bent down to pick up the girl in his arms and move her away. She felt extremely light in his hold, to light, and to his confusion her limp body, which seemed to fit so well in his arms, caused only the emptiness and sorrow he felt in his heart to grow, making it a little harder for him to breathe as a pressure settled over his heart.
Staring down at her face, he suddenly wished for nothing more than that she would open her eyes.
The girl, he was desperately trying to remember her name, was not very beautiful and thinking back she never had been. He could see that she once had had the potential of being so, but the harsh life she had lived had made her face tired and aged before her years. Her skin was like yellow parchment and years of starving had made her cheeks sunken. Her eyes seemed almost too big for her face and he could see an old scar on her right cheek under the dirt.
Her black hair, which had been hidden under the cap before she wore before she was shot, was nothing more than a mess of knots and had almost a greyish tone. But it was thick despite the harsh life she had lived.
Putting down her body on the ground, Enjolras sat down beside her, for he could not leave her, not just yet when she looked so small. Instead he stared down at the girl who looked troubled even in death and it bothered him that it seemed as if she had not found peace even in the afterlife, especially since she had seemed happy her last moment from whatever Marius had said.
Marius did not deserve you. The angry and hateful thought surprised even himself, but he could feel that deep inside he found that he thought the thought to be true.
As he looked down at the girl now, it surprised him that he had never spared her a second glance before. Of course he had known she was often around the café, after all they had all known since everyone also had been painfully aware of her affections for their friend Marius, except Marius, but he had never spoken to her or sent her any thought.
So why did she draw his interest now? Was it because she had so bravely sacrificed herself and become the martyr this revolution needed? Or was it simply because he had been so engrossed with the revolution that he had missed her?
Still as he thought back, he found that she was in all of his memories, a shadow in the dark for sure, but as he thought back now he could see how she had spent time with R drinking a beer, how she had cared for Gavroche more than a stranger would have and how she had sat in the back of the room, staring intently at him with dark brown eyes as he held his speeches.
Perhaps were you not invisible to me after all, I did not just know how much you were there before you were gone. Hating his own ignorance, Enjolras felt the pressure over his heart and chest increase, becoming almost unbearable.
Why had he not seen her before, why had he not paid her any attention? Why?
Feeling a need to do something more for her, even though she was dead, Enjolras, took her hands and placed them on her chest, another sting going through his heart as he saw the hole through her hand, the hand that the bullet had pierced before taking her life.
With care he placed her other hand above her damaged one, making sure that the evidence of how she had died was hidden. Then he carefully stroked her cheek, her skin ice-cold under his fingers but still soft, making him wonder how it would have felt to stroke her cheek had it still been warm. Would she have blushed or would she have pushed him away, her brown eyes two burning flames?
Overall she now looked to be more asleep than before, but still he did not find her to seem at peace, and it troubled him greatly. As he stared down at her face, he felt as if something was trying to fight its way forward in his mind, almost like a memory he had forgotten, but at the same time not.
Small bits and pieces of a young child hiding in the dark flashed for a moment before his eyes, of people lying on the streets and then two determined but glowing brown eyes in a tear streaked face which held deep sorrow. But wherever the pictures came from, for he could not recall them as memories, they disappeared again as fast as they came.
"I do sincerely hope we can create a better life for your people mademoiselle." He said staring down at the girl for a while longer, placing his now bloody hands over hers, willing the uneasy expression on her face to go away, but it still remained painfully in place.
Acting on instinct he then allowed one of his hands to brush her dirty hair out of her face before he leaned forward and lightly kissed both of her cheeks as an emptiness started to spread in his heart.
How many more will we lose? He thought as he stared down at the girl. Then right before he rose to leave, Enjolras remembered her name.
"Eponiné." He whispered. It was not a very common name but it fit her well nevertheless. Placing his hand on her cheek one last time, Enjolras finally rose, feeling as if a piece of him and his conviction stayed with Eponiné in that ally.
When he later was to face his own death, Enjolras was still the strongest believer in the revolution, he still believed he was doing the right thing when he rose the flag and refused to bow down in front of his executioners. But as he died it was not Patria for whom he died, not even the people on the streets, it was for the girl who was laying in the ally, the girl whose name he had once forgotten but now was carved in his heart.
The girl whom he had not known was his true inspiration until she was beyond his reach and only in the eye of death did he know the truth for the first time;
It had all been for Eponiné.
So what do you think, are finally some of thier shared past starting to shine through? Or was it simply a memory from his life in this time?
Leave a review and tell me what you thought!