A/N so here's chapter nine! Sorry for the long wait! Hopefully chapter ten will be up soon! This is a really long chapter, so I hope you enjoy it! Follow me on tumblr! standing-in-the-clouds is my URL!

Chapter Nine

Claire was standing in the middle of the street, a rifle in her hand and blood covering her from head to foot. A dead man lay before her, but Claire paid the body no mind, because in front of her, about six yards away, she could see Enjolras fighting off three blue uniformed men. She recognized them as the three who had beaten him in the alley about a week earlier. He was outnumbered, and he was weakening. Claire lifted her rifle, aiming at one of the men. She pressed the trigger, but nothing happened. It wasn't loaded. Panicked, Claire reached into her coat pocket for another bullet, but her hand instead closed around the handle of a sharp knife. Claire ran forward, knife raised and glinting in the sun, but she tripped on a piece of clothing about her feet and went sprawling to the ground. She looked at her legs to see that she was wearing a ragged white dress, stained with blood and dirt, and it was the cause of her fall. She got to her feet quickly and looked towards Enjolras. The men had him cornered, and Claire tried to run towards him again, but it felt as if she was trying to move through a sea of molasses. She tried to yell out, to command the men to stop, but no sound would come out of her mouth. She watched as one of the men lifted his bayonet and thrust it towards Enjolras. Enjolras lifted a hand in a futile attempt to protect his chest, but the sharp bayonet pierced through his hand and sank deep into Enjolras's torso.

"Enjolras!" Claire tried to scream, but it came out in a rasp.

Another bayonet slashed into Enjolras's side, and he let out a cry of was punctured over and over mercilessly, and each time he yelled in agony.

"Enjolras! Enjolras!" Claire screamed, trying to run to him, but she felt hands on her arms, restraining her. "Enjolras! Enjolras! No!"

She thrashed against the hands holding her back, tears streaming down her face. Enjolras looked up, and his eyes met hers. He took a staggering step towards her, then another, trying to clutch his wounds, but the blood poured over his hands and seeped from his fingers. He opened his mouth to speak and blood poured out over his chin and down his front. Claire gagged, and again tried to free herself from her captor. She flung a fist out and somehow managed to connect with what seemed to be a jaw. Enjolras opened his mouth again and managed to gurgle out a few words, barely audible.

"Claire, please-" he stumbled and fell to his knees on the hard ground, swaying unsteadily. "Please, Claire-"

"Enjolras, Enjolras!" Claire sobbed. "Enjolras, I don't know what I can do! You're going to die and it's my fault!"

"Please-wake up! Claire, please! Claire!" Enjolras said again before twisting sideways violently with a sickening crack.

He fell sideways to the ground, then spasmed and turned onto his back. His eyes were glassy and teary and looked up into Claire's, but they saw nothing. Claire screamed, clawing at the person restraining her, but she stopped suddenly when she heard Enjolras's voice again.

"Claire! Stop! Claire! Jesus, Claire, wake up!"

Everything around Claire seemed to go hazy, fading in and out of blurriness. She squeezed her eyes close and rubbed them vigorously. When she opened them again she was no longer in the street, and Enjolras's body was gone. She was laying in a bed, breathing heavily and covered in a sheen of sweat. The sheets were twisted around her feet and it was incredibly dark in the room.

"Claire?"

Claire looked up and saw the face of Enjolras looming over her with concern.

"Enjolras!" Claire gasped as she sat up, new tears starting to slide down her face. "Oh my God, Enjolras, I thought you were dead!" She cried, throwing her arms around his shocked form.

"It was only a dream, Claire." Enjolras said, sitting up as well and rubbing her bare back with both of his hands. "It's okay. I'm alright. I'm not hurt."

Claire pulled away to look at him.

"You were stabbed." She whimpered. "There was so much blood, Enjolras! And I couldn't help you! Oh God, I'm so sorry! I did that to you, didn't I?" Claire sniffled, gently tracing her fingers along a red mark on the underside of Enjolras's chin.

"Yes, but it's alright. You were having a nightmare, I understand." Enjolras replied, catching her trembling hand in his own steady one. "It'll be gone by morning. You're okay, Claire. I'm alright. Just go back to sleep, alright?" Enjolras said soothingly, massaging her shoulders as she rested her head back on the pillow.

He lay back down, too, facing her. Claire was still trembling, and silent tears were still falling sideways down her face. He wiped them away with his thumb and gave her a tender kiss before pulling her close to him so that her head was pressed against his left shoulder.

"Shhh..." He repeated over and over until he felt her breath relax and even out in the telltale signs of sleep.

He kissed the top of her head before he closed his eyes as well and drifted back into sleep, cradling Claire protectively in his arms.

Claire opened her eyes groggily. It was barely light out. She turned her head to look at Enjolras. He was still sleeping. She leaned in closer to him and kissed his hairline where he had been cut. Enjolras's eyelids twitched but he didn't wake. Claire sighed and started to crawl out of the bed, but a pair of strong arms wound around her stomach and pulled her back from the edge of the mattress.

"Oh no you don't." Enjolras muttered, his voice thick with sleepiness.

"It's time to get up!" Claire said, pulling the pillow from under Enjolras's head, causing his head to fall unceremoniously onto the mattress, and smacked him across the face with it.

"No." He said defiantly, pulling the pillow from her grasp and flinging it to the foot end of the bed.

"Well, I'm getting up." She said, squirming from his embrace and scooting to edge of the mattress.

She placed her feet on the floor and stood up, stretching. God, she felt sore. She heard Enjolras sigh and sit up behind her.

"I'm so sorry for last night. With my screaming and punching and nightmare..." Claire said, looking at the floor.

"Forget about it. It wasn't your fault. I'm not going to blame you for a bad dream..." Enjolras replied, stretching in the bed and rolling over to press his face into the mattress.

"What time is the funeral?" She asked glumly, looking at the cloudy sky.

"Soon." Enjolras answered. "I should probably be getting dressed."

"Yet you're still in bed and bare as a baby." Claire mocked as she eyed his form. He was certainly bare, and his entire backside was exposed to her wandering eyes.

She blushed and swallowed and turned her eyes to scan the floor of the room, which was littered with their forgotten clothing.

"We made a bit of a mess..." She said, bending over again to pick up Enjolras's discarded waistcoat. "Are you going to wear this one today, or...?"

"No, I'll wear my red one. It seems more appropriate." He answered, finally getting out of the bed to stand by Claire.

"You seem so different now." Claire said, turning to look up at him. "Not in a bad way," she explained hurriedly when she saw Enjolras's puzzled expression. "You just seem much more... Relaxed... And... Human."

"I'm not sure I understand." Enjolras said, moving past her to pick up more of the clothing from the floor and setting the articles on the chair.

"Well, you're just so..." Claire said, struggling to find the words. "Apathetic during the day, but then you come back here and you just change. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking about this now. You need to get dressed-" Claire said, picking up her own ratty dress and pulling it on over her head, then pulling her underclothes up over her legs.

Enjolras nodded and strode to the dresser, pulling out his blood red waistcoat with it's gleaming gold buttons. He then pulled out undergarments, a gray vest, a white shirt, black pants, and a black tie. Claire watched as he pulled the white shirt over his head, then yanked his pants on. He tucked his shirt into the waistband and then put on the gray vest, buttoning it up quickly.

"Would you like to help me with my coat?" He asked, smirking. "It seems only fair since you're the one who removed it last night..."

"If that's the case, shouldn't you have helped me put on my dress?" Claire countered.

"Well, I wouldn't object if you wanted to take it off again-" He stated, and Claire rolled her eyes.

"You are a pain." Claire said, fighting back a smile and walking over to him.

She took the jacket from his hands and moved behind him.

"Hold out your arms, you pain in the arse." She said, and Enjolras stuck out one arm, then the other.

Once the waistcoat was up to his shoulders, Enjolras shrugged it the rest of the way on, but he left it unbuttoned. He tied his tie quickly, then turned around to face Claire.

"Your boots are by the chair." Claire stated, striding past him to the bedside table, where the comb was sitting.

"Claire," He said, following her and stopping a foot from her back.

"Would you help me with my hair?" Claire asked, turning and handing him the comb.

He took it and she turned around again. He gently pulled the comb through her hair, being careful and gentle when he came upon tangles.

"Claire," He said again when he'd finished and she had turned to face him.

"Here, I'll brush yours." She took the comb from his hand and stood on her tiptoes to pull the comb through his shining blonde curls. "Alright, monsieur, you look decent enough to lead a revolution, now let's get your boots on you-" She began to turn around again, but Enjolras grabbed her arm and kept her in place.

"Claire." He said sternly, causing her to look at him.

"What?" She asked, worried at the expression of vexation on his face.

"Claire, stop rushing around." He said, loosening his grip on her arm, but not letting go.

"I just don't want you to be late to the funeral, is all. The rebellion depends on you being there to encourage the people into action-"

"You know I might not come back." Enjolras said with hidden sorrow in his voice.

Claire, didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she looked down at the wooden floor. Enjolras used two fingers to lift her chin up so that she was looking at him again.

"You know that, don't you?" He asked again, softer this time.

"Yes, of course I do," Claire began. "You're going to leave this room and fight at a barricade that you have already condemned yourself to die at. How could I forget?" Claire asked, almost resentfully.

"So stop rushing!" Enjolras said, lifting his hands to her shoulders and shaking her slightly. "I don't want to get out of that door as quickly as I can! I want to stay here, with you, as long as possible."

"I want you to stay, too." Claire whispered, barely audible.

"Alright then." Enjolras said. "Then sit in that chair and don't rush anymore." He directed Claire to the chair, and then bent down to retrieve his black, shiny boots.

He sat on the edge of the bed, across from Claire, and leisurely pulled one boot on, then the other. When he finished, he looked at Claire as he almost lazily buttoned his waistcoat. He stood to pick up a red sash and tied it around his waist, then he sat back looked at each other in silence for what seemed like a long time both lost in thought, and they both jumped when there was a pounding on the door.

"Enjolras? Enjolras!" It was Marius's voice. "Enjolras, the funeral parade is moments away from starting!"

Enjolras jumped up and held his hands out to Claire to help her up.

"I guess I can't stall any longer." He said as the walked towards the door.

"Promise me you'll try not to die." Claire said.

"I promise I won't try to die." He said, and pulled her into a hug so fierce it knocked the breath out of her.

He held her until there was more pounding on the door.

"Enjolras if you don't come out of that room right now I will break it down!" Courfeyrac's voice.

Enjolras released her and brushed his lips against hers.

"Promise me you won't leave this room!" He said, hand on the doorknob.

Claire nodded.

"Don't open this door to anyone unless it's me or someone you know!" He said as he pulled the door open and stepped out.

Claire could see Marius, Gavroche, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre from where she stood. She looked back into Enjolras's eyes and they didn't look away until Gavroche reached out and slammed the door shut.

Immediately after the door slammed shut, Claire was tearing off her dress and struggling into her pants and shirt, which were still slightly damp from last nights rain. She pulled on the shoes and jacket and twisted her hair into a tight plait. She couldn't risk having her hair falling into her eyes when she was holding a gun. She folded the braid on top of her head and pulled the hat on as she opened the door and raced after the group of men that had just left.

She saw them jogging along the cobbled street, and she lowered her voice and called after them.

"Marius! Courfeyrac! Combeferre!"

They turned to see her racing towards them. She slowed down as she reached them.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I-" She said, looking pointedly away from Enjolras so that he wouldn't recognize her.

Not that he minded. Claire noticed that as she matched pace with them, he discretely moved to the other side of the group of men to be as far from her as possible. Courfeyrac handed her a small hand pistol and she stuck it inside her coat pocket.

"No need for apologies, let's just hurry." Marius said in a cold, stern voice that Claire had never heard from him before.

They jogged the rest of the way in silence, and when they reached the main street, they were engulfed by a swarm of people all standing along the sidewalk. Many of them looked glum and upset, and some of the older women were crying. Gavroche left the group then, to take his place at a higher window to raise the flag for the signal. It was eerily silent as the group made it's way along. Claire saw Feuilly, Jean Prouvaire, Joly, and Lesgle, and she nudged Marius, who was leading, and pointed in their direction. He nodded grimly and they moved to stand by the others.

They stood in silence for about ten minutes, and then the first of the soldiers on horseback came around the corner. They thundered by, trotting and their hooves flung clumps of dirt and mud into the faces of those standing too close. The black hearse came into sight, and as it drew nearer, the red flag, the signal flag, was thrust out of a window above the crowd and began fluttering in the wind.

"Now!" Came Enjolras's voice from somewhere to Claire's right. The crowd, led by Enjolras and the others, surged forward and overflowed the street. Enjolras jumped onto the hearse and helped Marius up, so that they stood side by side. The crowd moved forward, screaming and yelling things such as "Vivé La France" and "Vivé La Revolution," and some yelling obscenities that didn't make sense to Claire. She stood along side the hearse, walking with the tide of the crowd, which had produced giant flags of red, and many where tricolored red, white, and blue.

Claire glanced up at Enjolras and Marius. Enjolras was swinging a giant red flag back and forth; someone must have handed it up to him, and he was shouting, but Claire couldn't make out what he was saying over the noise.

The soldiers who had been marching before were now scattered, but when the surge of French citizens turned a corner, a hush fell over the crowd. They were facing about sixty soldiers, all on horseback, and all holding rifles with gleaming bayonets attacked to the end. Their faces were grim, and they looked positively deadly.

She looked up at Enjolras, and he met her eyes for the briefest of seconds before he lowered the red flag down to her in order to free his hands. The flag was heavy, but not too heavy that Claire couldn't hold it. She looked back up to see that both Marius and Enjolras had pistols cocked and aimed at the soldiers. There was silence while both sides sized each other up, but then a shot rang out in the crisp morning air. Then there was chaos and mayhem. There was screaming and running and the sound of guns and swords clanging. Claire barely made out Enjolras's voice above the crowd.

"To the Barricades!" He was shouting as he jumped from the hearse and pointed in the direction of the Café Musain.

Claire was about to turn in the direction of the Café Musain when someone grabbed her arm. She turned to see a furious soldier. Claire yelled loudly and yanked her arm away, trying to run, but people pressed against her on all sides. The soldier lowered his rifle and was taking aim when Claire brought one end of the flagpole down on his head. He grabbed his head in pain, but rushed Claire with his bayonet all the same. She dropped the flag and tried to turn aside to avoid the deadly blade. Luckily his aim was off, whether it was due to the blow he'd just received or because he didn't have very good aim to begin with, Claire couldn't tell, but all the same, he missed her by a fraction of an inch. Instead of piercing her skin, the bayonet snagged in her coat, causing the man to loose balance and pitch forward.

Claire used this to her advantage and pushed the barrel of the rifle down with her left hand, leaving the man's stomach exposed. She reached into her coat jacket quickly with her right hand and brought out the pistol. She cocked it fluidly and pressed the barrel of the gun against the man's chest and pulled the trigger. Because of the close range, his hot blood splattered up Claire's arm and sprayed her face. The man looked shocked for a moment, then terrified as he realized his last seconds on Earth would be spent looking up at his killer. Claire watched the life drain from his face and she stepped back, breathing heavily. She pulled the bayonet out of her jacket, but it left a large, ragged hole.

Claire looked down at the dead soldier and saluted him before returning the pistol to her jacket pocket and turning around again, making her way through the crowd towards the Café Musain. By the time she reached the dead end street, people were already throwing every bit of furniture out of their windows. Claire dodged the falling objects, narrowly avoiding getting struck down by a falling table. She reached the Café and swung the door open. There were men and woman everywhere, making bullets, sewing flags, cleaning rifles, and loading pistols. She grabbed another pistol from a table and stuffed it in her belt, then she went back outside to see if she could help with the construction of the Barricade. She saw Combeferre struggling with the broken table that had nearly hit Claire earlier, and she rushed to help. Things were still falling, though not as much. The Barricade was already incredibly tall and wide, and Claire was astounded at what could be made in just a few minutes.

"Thank you," Combeferre said through grunts as they pushed the table up against the other broken furniture.

"My pleasure," Claire said when the table was in place. "Keep the faith."

She turned to see Grantaire opening the door to the wine shop.

"Grantaire!" She called, striding to him.

He turned, and when he spied her, he stopped Claire reached him but recoiled at the smell of wine and something else... Absinthe, maybe?

"You've been drinking already?" Claire asked, aghast. "On a day like this?!"

"Claire you should not be here." He said grumpily, his eyes flitting around until they settled, unfocused, on her face. "My God, what happened to your face? Your arm!? Have you hurt yourself already? I told you not to come! You're already crippled and useless!"

"It's not my blood." Claire growled. "It's a soldier's. He's dead now." She glared up at him, and took a step towards him menacingly. "And don't you DARE criticize me, Grantaire, because the only useless one here is you! What do you think you'll be able to do if you're drunk, hmm? I've already shot a man down! All you've downed is a bottle of wine and Absinthe!" She yelled.

She slapped him across the face and he looked startled, then shamefaced.

"Splash your face with water and do what you have to do, but no more wine!" She said angrily, spinning around and storming back to where the barricade was almost finished.

People were still running around, and she heard Enjolras's voice over the crowd. He was standing at the very top of the barricade next to a large red flag that was fluttering in the wind.

"We need a volunteer!" He yelled, and several people turned to look at him. "We need someone who can find out their plans and when they will attack!"

An older man in a gray jacket stepped forward with his arm raised.

"I can! I know what they are like! I've fought their wars and done my time."

Claire studied the man. He had a circular, tricolored patch that was identical to everyone else's, and a gray cap that was pulled low over his face, just as Claire's was. He looked somewhat familiar, but she couldn't place where she had seen him before, but she had an uneasy feeling about him.

Enjolras's nodded and a pistol was thrust into the man's hand by Combeferre. He disappeared around a corner just as Joly spied Claire from across the street. He made his way over to her and grabbed her bloodied arm.

"Clark, your arm, is it injured?" He asked loudly, and Enjolras glanced down at the pair from on top of the barricade.

"No, my arm is fine, Joly, thank you." Claire said, feeling Enjolras's gaze on her. She readjusted her cap self consciously. "It's not my blood, actually. A soldier attacked me and I had to shoot him."

Joly nodded gravely and released her, but Enjolras jumped down and stood by him.

"You've already shot one?" He asked, and Claire nodded, pulling her hat even lower on her head and avoiding his gaze.

"I had too. I was practically cornered."

Enjolras's eyes hardened in determination and he nodded stiffly before returning to the top of the barricade.

- Claire wandered aimlessly behind the barricade with Gavroche for several hours in silence, scanning for any bit of spare furniture that could be used to strengthen the barricade. She avoided Enjolras's gaze, but checked on him occasionally. She saw Marius off in a corner, reading and rereading the now very worn note that Cosette had left for him. Many of the men were placed along the wall with there guns propped up next to them, and they were chatting quietly. When it had grown very dark, and the only light came from small fires and torches, Claire heard a loud yell from Courfeyrac.

"He's back!"

Claire and Gavroche ran back to the Barricade just in time to see Enjolras, poised and ready, point with his thumb to where the secret entrance was. The man that had gone to spy appeared near Claire's left, and she studied him again, trying to place where she had seen him before.

"Listen my friends! I will tell what I can!" The man said, and his gruff voice stirred something in Claire. "They have armies to spare, their danger is very real, it will take much cunning to bring them down."

"Have faith," Enjolras said to the gathered men. "If we know what their movements are we'll spoil their game. There are many ways that the people can fight! We will overcome their power!"

"From what I heard, there will be no attack tonight." The man said slowly, and it seemed to Claire as if he was trying to sound convincing. "They intent to starve us out before they attack. They want to hit us when it's light." The man reached up as if to pull on a shirt collar, but he didn't have one.

His eyes caught Claire's for a moment before flicking away. They were dull blue.

"He's lying." Claire said quietly, though it was loud enough for the few men around her to hear, and they turned to her curiously.

"What did you say?" Enjolras asked from atop the barricade.

"You're lying!" Claire said louder, addressing the man. "I know this man, that is Inspector Javert!" She said to the crowd. "Don't believe anything he says! None of it's true!"

Javert, his cover blown, tried to turn and run, but he was surrounded and his arms were behind his back and he had multiple pistols to his head before he could even turn around.

"Good one, Clark!" One of the men yelled, probably Joly.

"What are we going to do with him?!" Another one yelled, and everyone looked at Enjolras, who was fuming.

"Take this man and throw him in the tavern!" He said angrily, but before the men could drag him away, he put his face close to Javert's and growled. "The people will decide your fate, Inspector Javert."

"Shoot me now or shoot me later! Do as you please!" He said, spitting at Enjolras, but it missed and landed by his feet. "Death to each and every traitor! I renounce your PEOPLES court!

Javert was pulled away from Enjolras by several strong men, with Claire holding a gun to his head, and they got halfway to the tavern near the wine shop before Javert swung around quickly, throwing punches and hitting Claire on the side of the head with his fist. She shouted in pain and more men came, Enjolras caught hold or Javert's jacket, and Javert punched him in the jaw, causing him to loose his grip. Claire tackled him at knee level and they both fell to the ground. More men held his struggling form down and Claire was helped to her feet just in time to see Enjolras raise a metal bar or Javert's head and swing it down with a sickening crack.

The men were silent for a few moments, breathing heavily, staring at Javert's still form, but the sound of many marching boots beyond the barricade brought them to their senses.

"Tie him up!" Enjolras yelled to the men. "We have work to do!"

Javert was hauled to his feet and dragged to the tavern. Claire watched the men tie his wrists together and yank them above his head, then a noose was formed and put around his head. Claire heard the men at the barricade yelling and she ran out of the tavern. Someone handed her a rifle and she thanked whoever it was as she ran past. She spied Enjolras at the top of the barricade, laying low and pointing his gun at where a large number of men in blue uniforms were standing. It looked like a flood, except for that the water had many faces and guns just as deadly as the one Claire held in her hands. She climbed up near him and laid down as well, peeking up over the top of the barricade at the sea of men.

A man with a brown mustache and unforgiving features stepped forward.

"Who's there?" He yelled loudly at the barricade.

Everyone behind the barricade looked up at Enjolras.

"French Revolution!" He yelled back.

"Fire!" The soldier yelled.

The ocean of men fired and Claire could hear bullets whizz by above her head. There was much yelling and screaming and the smell of gunpowder, and Claire pointed her gun and aimed at one man and pulled her trigger. He dropped. One. She reloaded and aimed at another and pulled. Two. She systematically reloaded, aimed and fired, until she was out of bullets and powder. But the soldiers began to advance on the barricade and climb up the other side. She looked to her left quickly to see Enjolras shooting rapidly. He hit every man he aimed at, but there were too many.

Claire pulled out both of her pistols and crawled along the barricade to come to his aid. Enjolras was shooting at the soldiers in front of him, but he hadn't noticed one of them on his left side. Claire fired at him, hitting him in the shoulder. He cried out and another bullet to his head ended his agony.

She was about to take aim at another when a large body fell against her. She lost her precarious footing on the loose wood of the barricade and fell backwards, dropping both pistols. She landed on the cobblestones of the street below and the heavy corpse landed on top, knocking the breath out of her and causing her head to thud against the stone. He must have been at least two hundred and fifty pounds, and he oozed blood all over her. She gasped and wheezed, trying to push the dead weight off of her and trying to see around it, but her vision had gone slightly hazy. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. Things looked slightly clearer now.

Just as she had twisted enough to see through a gap between the cadaver's bloody arm and torso, a hush fell over the barricade. Claire struggled and strained painfully to see the top of the barricade. What she saw made her blood run cold. Marius was standing with a torch pointed to a small barrel of what Claire could only assume was gun powder.

"Fall back!" He yelled, beating a soldier down as he tried to overtake him. "Fall back or I blow the barricade!"

"Blow it up and take yourself with it!" The soldier that had spoken before yelled in response, but he didn't move from where he stood.

"Oh, Christ!" Claire gasped, struggling even harder against the corpse pinning her to the ground.

She saw Marius nod in a terrifyingly calm way.

"and myself with it." He yelled, lowering the flame to the edge of the barrel.

The head soldier, the one with the mustache, hesitated, but he clearly had common sense.

"Back! Back!" He yelled at his men, and the ones still living hastily retreated around the far corner of the street.

When the last soldier had disappeared, Enjolras slowly reached up and took the torch from Marius's trembling hand. Marius dropped the barrel and climbed down the barricade, where he was bombarded with remarks from the men.

"What the hell were you thinking-"

"You saved us all-"

"-could've gotten us all killed!"

"Christ, Marius!"

"-saved us from-"

He ignored them all and walked away to sit in his corner and read his note from Cosette. Claire spied Feuilly and called out to him.

"Feuilly! I need your help-"

He glanced around until he saw the slightly moving body. He came to her quickly and with trouble he rolled the bloody corpse off if Claire's gasping form which lay in a puddle of blood.

"How did that happen?" He asked as he grasped Claire's gory, outstretched arm and pulled her into a standing position.

"I was on the barricade when it-he-fell on me." She answered, looking down at the dead man and shivering, then picking up one of the guns that had fallen from her hands and putting it in her belt; the other one had disappeared. "He was too heavy to get off."

Feuilly nodded and turned away. Claire looked down at herself. All down her front was dripping with blood, and her hands were bright red from when she'd attempted to push the bloody man off. She walked slowly towards the tavern where she thought some of the men had tossed their coats. As she entered, she noticed that the spy Javert was awake. He looked groggy, but he saw her and his face hardened. She ignored him and pulled off her bloody jacket. She wiped her bloodied hands on the inside of it, and after seeing no furniture to throw it on, she instead flung it onto the floor. She looked around but saw no other coats. She hissed in frustration. A low, guttural chuckle came from behind her. She turned to see Javert's eyes following her.

"What do you find so amusing, INSPECTOR?" She asked, moving to the door.

"You stand no chance against the French army." He said, as if the thought of Claire being killed was a pleasant one.

"I would advise you to stop talking if you are at all fond of having a tongue." Claire threatened. "But if you would like to loose your tongue, by all means, talk away."

"I can hardly wait to see the blood of you and all your friends flood these streets." He said, smirking up at her.

He was groggy, and there was dried blood under his nose and from the side of his head.

"Unfortunately, MONSIEUR, you won't be there to see it." She pulled out her pistol and walked forward to press it against his head between his eyes.

"Are you going to shoot me, boy?" Javert asked, trying to look into Claire's eyes. "You don't have the guts to kill a man who cannot defend himself."

"You're right." Claire said, moving the gun to the right side of his head. "But if I were to pull the trigger now, it wouldn't kill you. It would paralyze you, keeping you from walking, talking, or moving. It wouldn't, however, keep you from feeling pain. I could start with your fingers. I could cut them off, knuckle by knuckle, then your toes. I could gouge out your eyes, next. And you would sit there with your mouth open in a silent scream that no one could hear-" Claire could see Javert's eyes widen in what she took to be fear, but he masked it quickly.

Claire supposed she was capable of being terrible, just like Grantaire said Enjolras was. She lowered the gun and looked into his eyes.

"So," She said grimly. "Since that sounds quite fun, keep talking."

Javert was silent, but the way he was studying her face made her uncomfortable.

"I know you." He said, and Claire froze. "I know your face."

"Yes, you probably do. You wrongly accused me of robbery a few weeks ago-"

"No." Javert said, smirking. "I've seen your face. I've carried your face and I've had my men nail your face to many walls all over France. I know you."

Claire knew he was talking about the missing posters. She remembered the one she'd seen on the day she'd run away, nailed to the wall of a building in the most public place in town. How he recognized her through the layer of blood on her face, Claire didn't know.

"If you say anything to anyone I'll send a bullet through your brain." She hissed.

He stopped studying her and looked over her shoulder at something in the doorway. Claire turned to see Enjolras's stony face.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked, ignoring Javert.

"I came in to find a new jacket. Mine was covered in blood. Then I decided to have a nice chat with the spy."

"I know where you can find a jacket." Enjolras said, holding the door open for Claire and letting it slam shut behind them.

The walked in silence as Enjolras lead her to the Café Musain, but finally he spoke.

"How did you know that spot would paralyze him?" He asked, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"You were listening that long?" Claire asked, worried.

Enjolras gave a sharp nod.

"Well, I told you I was at war against the French when I was twelve. Our camp was invaded and I was the only one who spoke French, so they slaughtered everyone else and kidnapped me and one other man, Lieutenant Bailey. They used that threat against me-they wanted to know where the rest of the camps were, you see- and when I didn't believe them, they shot Bailey there and tortured him in front of me, in the same way that I threatened Javert." Claire had stopped walking, and Enjolras had, too. "I couldn't tell them anything. I had to sit there, watching him try to scream as they cut him to pieces and I couldn't tell them anything! But he was as good as gone, wasn't he? There was no point trying to save him after he was a bloody stump-" She stammered, trying to find an excuse for letting poor Lieutenant Bailey be chopped to bits.

Claire closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. Why did she say that to Javert? She would never condemn someone to that gruesome fate. Killing them was better than that. She had been feeling angry and sadistic, and she was covered in blood and tired, just as she was that day when they kidnapped her and Bailey. She didn't even know how she escaped. One day she had been sitting on the dirty ground with a gun to her head, and the next day she was crawling through the tall grass and scaling the castle wall four hundred miles away. A hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present.

"Clark." Enjolras said calmly.

Claire looked up at him. There was no emotion on his face, as if he were wearing a mask.

"Wipe your face." He ordered, and Claire reached up to find that her face was wet with tears.

Claire grimaced at this pathetic sign of weakness. She wiped her eyes angrily and straightened her back.

"Are you going to be alright?" He asked with the smallest amount of concern in his voice.

"Yes, of course." Claire said, striding towards the Café.

Enjolras quickened his pace to catch up to her, then he slowed down to match her steps.

"Why did Inspector Javert say that he knew you? What did he mean when he said his men had nailed your face up all over France?"

"Well..." Claire said, trying to think of a suitable lie. "I was a wanted person, once. I stole something of great value and destroyed it."

Enjolras nodded, and Claire could tell that a petty thing such as theft was not a matter of concern for Enjolras. He opened the door to the Café Musain and they both slipped inside. They struggled through a crowd of men cleaning and reloading their pistols and guns and climbed the stairs.

"Here." He said, and he tossed Claire a gray jacket similar to her ripped and bloody brown one. "It's Bahorel's. He won't be needing it anymore."

Claire saw Enjolras's face fall for a moment, but he composed himself instantaneously.

"What do you mean?" Claire asked cautiously, pulling on the jacket and buttoning it up.

It was a bit large, and she had to roll up the sleeves so that she could use her hands easier.

"He's been shot. Joly's set up an infirmary of sorts on the first floor of the wine shop." Enjolras answered, and his face was unreadable, but his voice seemed slightly feeble.

"Is he dead?" Claire asked, shocked.

"Not yet. He's close, though. I went to see if I could help in any way, but he's beyond help at this point." His face had gone stony, and he clenched his jaw and his eyes went icy.

Enjolras turned and focused his attention to several of the men loading their rifles.

"I'll go see if there's anything I can do..." Claire mumbled as she stumbled back towards the door.

On her way out of the Café, she lifted another pistol from the corner of a table to replace her missing one. She opened the door and stepped out into the dark, chilly street. She pulled Bahorel's jacket tighter around herself and jogged to the wine shop next to the Café. As Claire opened the door, Joly looked up at her. He had been leaning over a man's leg. There was a puncture wound from what looked like a bayonet, but as Claire approached, the man was able to stand and hobble out of the shop.

"Joly," Claire said in a hushed tone, looking around.

There weren't very many men in the shop, and none of them looked fatally wounded, just scratched up.

"I came to see Bahorel. Is he-am I too late?" She whispered.

"No, but he's very near. All I can do is keep him as drunk as possible, but he's in a lot of pain." Joly answered, leading her towards a table at the back of the shop.

There was a body laying on it, and his face was lit dimly by a nearby candle. Bahorel was breathing shallowly, and he was stripped to his undergarments. Strips of cloth were wrapped around his torso and abdomen, but they were almost completely soaked through with blood. He seemed to be sleeping, and his fingers were wrapped loosely around the neck of an almost empty bottle of wine.

"What happened?" Claire asked, taking in Bahorel's limp form.

"Two bullets to the chest and a bayonet to his gut. I'm amazed he's lived this long. He's got the stamina of an ox." Joly said.

"And, there's absolutely nothing that can be done? The bullets can't be removed? He can't be stitched up?" Claire almost begged, pulling up a chair next to Bahorel's still form and sitting heavily in it.

"Nothing. The bullets exploded on impact. They're fragmented inside his body. The bayonet did more then cut his skin; his lower intestines are cut up as well." Joly said, shaking his head sadly.

The door opened again, and they both turned to see a man stumble in, bleeding from his head.

"I need to take care of the others. If you would stay here for a while, just until... I feel like he'd want someone to be with him when... When it happens. He was never one to be by himself... He always enjoyed the company of his friends, you know." Joly whispered, taking one last look of his close friend laying on the table.

"Of course I will." Claire said as Joly walked towards the door.

She reached out and pushed the hair off of Bahorel's forehead.

"Oh Bahorel..." She mumbled, taking the wine from his hand and setting it on the floor by her feet. "Oh Bahorel, I'm so sorry this happened to you..."

He stirred and opened his eyes slowly. He turned his head and cringed in pain. Claire lifted the bottle quickly and poured some of the red liquid into his mouth, wishing she had some of Grantaire's opium with her. He swallowed, but some of the wine spilled out of his mouth and onto his chin, dripping down to land in splatters on the floor.

"Clark." He said, smiling drunkenly.

"Hello, Bahorel." Claire said, squeezing his hand. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Iz okey." He slurred. "I would've woken up anyway. I'm in a bit o' pain."

"Yes, I know." Claire said, nodding. "But it's okay, now. Just go back to sleep, now, okay? And when you next wake up you'll feel much better."

"I don't think I could go back to sleep even if I wanted to." He muttered, grimacing.

"Well, maybe if you just closed your eyes-" Claire started.

"Remember when we drank so much we couldn't stand?" Bahorel reminisced. "And Enjolras got so mad he kicked us out until we sobered up?"

"Yes, I remember. How could I forget? That was fun, wasn't it?" Claire said, laughing.

It had been only a couple days ago. Claire had stupidly accepted to be part of a drinking game between Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Bahorel. They drank every time Enjolras had given them a disapproving look. Needless to say, they ended up emptying three and a half bottles of wine before Enjolras had finally forced them to leave.

Bahorel nodded, grinning again. There was blood in his mouth.

"That was a good time." He said.

He laughed but then clutched at his stomach, where even more blood soaked into the cloth. When his hand came away, his palm was wet with it.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" He asked, his voice lowering.

"No, no!" Claire said reassuringly. "Joly will make sure you're alright."

"Don't worry." Bahorel said, patting her knee, leaving a red stain. "I know I'm past saving."

"Bahorel, I'll make sure you're okay." Claire said, her eyes stinging.

"I'm ready, Clark." Bahorel said in a submissive voice. "I know. I'll be okay. Will you stay by me?"

"Yes, of course," Claire squeaked through the lump in her throat as she grabbed his bloody hand. "Of course I'll stay here with you."

"Good." Bahorel whispered, rolling his head to the ceiling and closing his eyes. "I'm not scared."

"I know, Bahorel. You're much braver than I. Braver than anyone I know! just go to sleep, and you'll be in a better place before you know it, you brave, brave man..."

Bahorel nodded, but he opened his eyes as his body convulsed once, twice, on the table. He gurgled and blood seeped from the corners of his mouth. His hand tightened around hers in a final squeeze before going limp. He went still and his eyes glazed over. His head lolled to the side as if to stare at Claire, but they were empty and Claire knew they were staring at nothing.

Claire let out a silent sob as she reached forward to close Bahorel's eyes. She placed both of his hands on his bloody stomach and stood up. She stumbled away from Bahorel's corpse and nodded at Joly as she swung the door open and once again stepped into the street. She squeezed her eyes shut and took one deep breath, then another. She wiped at her eyes and took a moment to recuperate before she stood up straight and stalked towards the barricade. She saw the Enjolras, Marius, and several others were already there.

She was about halfway there when there was a commotion. There was yelling and a struggle. She ran forward to see a man in a blue uniform struggling against the restraints of several Friends of the ABC.

"Do you see that man over there?" Enjolras was yelling as he pointed towards the tavern where Javert was barely visible through the window. "A spy, just like you! He's awaiting his trial!"

A gun was put to the man's head as Claire shoved her way through the group of men. She caught a glimpse of his face and recognition struck her.

"Don't shoot!" She yelled, her voice still hoarse, as she jumped up on her toes to get Enjolras's attention. "Don't shoot him! I've met him!"

The man who Claire knew to be Cosette's father, Monsieur Madeleine, sighed gratefully and rolled his eyes to the sky as if in thanks. He tensed and pulled a pistol from his belt.

"Enemy sharpshooter!" He yelled, pointing to the rooftops.

Claire turned quickly to see a soldier on the roof of one of the buildings. He was lowering his rifle and taking aim. Monsieur Madeleine aimed as well and shot. Claire was amazed when the bullet struck the soldier and he fell out of view.

There was another shout and Claire watched as Enjolras grabbed his rifle and, almost gracefully, pulled it in front of him, aimed, and pulled the trigger. He really was an excellent marksman.

"Thank you, monsieur." Enjolras said. "If there's anything we can do to thank you..."

"There is, in fact." Monsieur Madeleine said, making his way towards the tavern. "Give me the spy, Javert. Let me deal with him."

Enjolras nodded grimly and turned to Claire.

"Bring him the spy." He said, and Claire turned quickly.

She raced into the tavern and pulled Javert to his feet. She dragged him out into the street and headed to where Monsieur Madeleine stood. The group of men had dispersed, and only Enjolras remained. She hauled Javert towards them and shoved him towards Monsieur Madeleine.

"Sir," She said, dipping her hat towards him before taking a step back.

"Do what you must." Enjolras said, handing Monsieur Madeleine a switch knife and nodding once before returning to the top of the Barricade to keep watch.

Claire watched as Monsieur Madeleine began to roughly pull Javert down an alleyway.

"Monsieur," She called, and both Javert and Monsieur Madeleine turned slightly to look at her. "If you'll forgive me asking, why are you eager to dispatch of the spy, Javert?"

"Personal reasons. Unfinished business, as you would have it." He answered vaguely, turning and shoving Javert forward.

Claire stood for a moment, fighting herself internally. Javert knew that she was Princess Clairette, and he couldn't have the chance to escape. However, Monsieur Madeleine seemed pretty adamant, surely he would dispose of him, wouldn't he? She shook her head and stood up straighter. She had to be positive.

She followed Monsieur Madeleine silently, hiding in the shadows as they twisted further and further away from the barricade, and from any prying eyes. Monsieur Madeleine stopped and turned Javert around harshly. Claire could see the glint of the silver knife blade as he held it out before him.

"You've been waiting for this moment your whole life." Javert said, his eyes gleaming maliciously. "How right you should kill with a knife."

There was definitely something going on here that Claire didn't understand. Monsieur Madeleine lowered the knife quickly and with one swift motion the ropes binding Javert's wrists fell to the ground.

"Clear out of here!" Monsieur Madeleine hissed, taking a step back.

"I don't understand..." Javert muttered, rubbing his wrists and looking puzzled.

"Clear out of here!" Monsieur Madeleine said louder.

"Ah," Javert whispered, nodding. "You've made it clear. Yes, Val Jean, you want a deal."

"You're wrong, and you have always been wrong. I'm just a man, no worse than any man." Monsieur Madeleine said.

"If you free me, I will not give up. I will not do the same for you, beware." Javert said, taking a step back. "I won't give in."

"If I get out of this alive you will find me in Paris. I do not doubt our paths will cross again."

Claire was dumbstruck. He was letting the spy GO!? He couldn't! He wouldn't! He was clearly a wanted man as well, why would he willingly release Javert?

Javert turned and began to jog away when Claire saw Monsieur Madeleine raise the pistol and aim it at Javert's back. Good, he was going to kill him! Monsieur Madeleine pulled the trigger and the wall near Javert's head exploded in a shower of dust and rubble. Javert turned around quickly, then dashed away as fast as he could. Claire was furious.

"Monsieur!" She yelled angrily, stepping out of the shadows and revealing her presence. "Have you any idea what you've just done?!" She yelled, running forward and giving him a well placed blow to the stomach before he grabbed her wrists and held her at arms length away.

"I've released a man who was only doing his job as an officer." He replied calmly, keeping a steady hold on Claire's struggling form.

"You've ruined us! The barricades will fall because of you! You haven't a clue, have you?! You are the cause of our undoing! You-you-" Claire struggled for words.

She knew Javert would go and tell everyone the news. He would tell the army that Claire was there, and they would advance and kill everyone to get to her. Claire stopped struggling and Monsieur Madeleine dropped her wrists.

"Monsieur, why are you even here? Why have you come? You are supposed to be in Paris with Cosette." Claire said, ignoring his expression of shock.

"How do you know of that?" He asked.

"I found a letter Cosette left for Marius. They are in love, Monsieur, and now they are heartbroken." Claire said, refusing to say any more than that.

"I am here to keep Marius safe. The young boy, Gavroche, you call him, gave me a letter earlier tonight that was addressed to my daughter. He's the world to my child, I cannot let him die."

Monsieur Madeleine turned and stalked away, headed back to the barricade, and Claire followed suite. As she approached, Grantaire caught sight of her and pulled her aside.

"Courfeyrac, you take the watch," Claire heard Enjolras say over the dull chatter of the men as Grantaire led her to the base of the barricade. "They may attack again before it's light. Everybody, keep the faith!"

Claire sat down on the cold cobblestone next to Grantaire and he pulled out a bottle of wine. She glanced at him disapprovingly but he ignored her look and pulled out the cork expertly.

"Drink with me." He ordered, handing her the bottle.

Claire rolled her eyes and took a small sip, just enough to warm her insides but no more.

"To life!" He said, holding the bottle up and then taking a large swig.

He handed it back to Claire and she held it up as well.

"To friendship!"

Grantaire took it from her again and raised it once more.

"Here's to the pretty girls that went to our heads!" He said loudly, and several of the men turned to look at him.

"Ay," one of them said. "Here's to the witty girls that came to our beds, eh?"

Claire blushed into the darkness. She took the wine bottle from Grantaire and thrust it in the air again.

"To Bahorel." She said quietly, and Grantaire nodded.

"To Bahorel." He repeated.

"To Bahorel." A voice to Claire's left said and she felt someone sit down on by her side.

"Ello, Gavroche. Had a busy night, yeah?" She asked as Gavroche rested his head on her shoulder.

He nodded and closed his eyes. Before long, she could hear him breathing evenly in and out in the telltale sign of slumber. To her right Grantaire had downed the rest of the wine and was snoring slightly as well. Claire pulled her hat down lower on her head, wrapped her jacket tighter around herself, and rested her head on Grantaire's shoulder. She didn't think she would be able to sleep, but she eventually succumbed to the darkness.

A/N okay, so I hope you enjoyed that... I have to admit, during Bahorel's death scene I cried. It didn't help that I was listening to Empty Chairs at Empty Tables on repeat, but, oh well. REMEBER! DON'T LET THE REVIEW BOX STARVE! IT'S BEEN A WEEK AND I'M SURE IT'S CLOSE TO DEATH! Really, though, I love reviews, they keep me going, so I would really appreciate it if you just took two seconds to review my story. thanks!

Enough love to fill an olympic sized pool,

~Jedss