"Gratien—"

"What happened?" he persisted, not turning around to face them. "And where's papa?"

Corinna knew she would have to face this sooner or later, but in truth, she was not expecting it this soon.

She knew he was old enough to understand the concept of death, to know that when one dies that there was no way back. However, she was not prepared to explain that to Gratien, who without his mother and now his father, that it was just her and him now.

Enjolras and Combeferre had explained to her a countless number of times about what had become of Gratien's mother, but it had taken months for her to do so. Combeferre was the first to answer her inquiries, but even he could not form a reply without getting choked up somewhere along the line, and Enjolras…

It was only recently when he would answer her with something that was not, "I would prefer not to talk about it," or something along the lines of it. Even for some time following that, when she simply asked what happened to his late sister, all she would get from him was, "As that of the poor Ophelia."

She could recall in one instance that he fell into complete silence.

"It's best if you let him be." Combeferre told her that night. "He needs some time, is all."

"Rainier, I know enough to know that his sister has been dead for almost seven years." she said quietly as the two of them continued on their journey home. "He needs to let go—he's been wallowing in grief for some time, longer than anyone should."

"If you had a sister and she died, would you be quick about it?"

"No, but I would move on in time." she was quick to reply. "And by 'in time,' I mean between a few weeks to a few months, not seven years."

"The man almost lost his father recently, and what of Michel and Gabriel?" Combeferre suggested, trying not to sound harsh in any manner with his words. "Neither losses have been of any help."

"His father was almost two years ago, and the twins have been gone for almost a year." she answered with the suggestion of frustration. "Nonetheless, I am certain you and I can agree that sitting in such a state is not good for him, not good for anyone."

"I am aware of that, and have not been ignorant of it." he replied earnestly as he searched the pockets of his coat for his keys. "But perhaps the recent death and losses have only made recovering harder. However, in truth, from what I can tell, he would simply rather not talk about it. He is avoiding what hurts him by not discussing it. If he chooses not to speak on the subject, then who are we to force him?"

"Calm down, dear." Corinna said to him gently, placing her hands on his shoulders as a gesture of comfort. Éponine only stood by and watched, making it clear she did not know how to deal with the situation and was therefore staying put. Gratien similarly stood still, his small hands lightly gripped around one of Enjolras'.

"Wake up…please…" the boy pleaded, seemingly forgetting about the other people's presence in the room. He did not appear to hear Corinna's words, nor did he care that they were there, his focus directed towards the man's face. The tears streamed down his face, and the blonde could not tell if he tried to keep them hidden, hold back his sobs.

The blonde took a few steps away, deep in thought as to how to handle the situation, which she was well aware was fragile. She had handled situations such as this before; why was this one so difficult?

"Gratien…"

"Corinna, why won't he wake up?" the boy asked, perking up ever-so-slightly, tears staining his face as he turned his head towards the blonde. He still kept ahold of Enjolras' hand, as if afraid he was going to be pulled away from him. "Uncle Lucien, wake up!"

Corinna was about to make a reply, still hesitant on how to form her response, when the gamine stepped forward and knelt down beside the young boy.

"He's quite ill." Éponine explained, with sympathy in her eyes. "And since he's ill, he's tired. So, your mother and I are making sure he is getting some rest until he feels better."

Gratien appeared as if he was going to correct her, but Corinna shook her head slightly as a reminder to him in regards to events that had happened a few months prior. She and Combeferre had explained the situation the best they could to him, try to lay things out in simple terms he would understand, though they probably could have gotten by with explaining it to him the same way they could have informed one of their peers.

"So she doesn't remember me?" he asked like a curious child would, as if the previous explanation had not been enough.

Combeferre shook his head with a sigh. "I'm afraid not."

"And she doesn't remember you or Corinna?" he persisted, exploring the possibilities of what the situation specifically involved.

"Not one bit."

"But what about Uncle Lucien, Maximilienne?" the boy's eyes widened, as if he had found the only exception to their words, and looked ready to jump from his seat at his discovery. "She has to remember them!"

"We wish she did."

The boy was crestfallen, but he seemed to handle the news better than Enjolras, who seemed prepared to storm out and search for whoever had caused the gamine's memory loss. Combeferre had to pull him aside and talk some logic into him for almost an hour before he settled down.

"Papa can help him, then, can't he, Corinna?" the child's mood lightened a bit, trying to show some positivity into the grim situation. "Or Monsieur Joly? They ought to know what to do!"

The blonde turned her gaze to the floor, not wanting to nor prepared to explain to the child of what had become of them, especially towards the former of the two. It still felt too soon to speak of it, even though a few days had passed since the horrific day, where hundreds laid splayed across broken, hastily-built fortresses, where blood had pooled in the Parisian streets and mist had been replaced by smoke and gunpowder. Yet at the same time, she was withholding information from him that he should have been told the moment she heard it herself.

"Oh, Gratien…"

"Are they in Saint-Michel?" he asked with bright eyes. "I can go find them, papa said I could if he wasn't here!"

If one asked her what made her answer the way she did, she would not have a reply. If anything, she would remember nothing more than the situation at hand, and barely anything further.

"No, no, no, I'll go, dear." Corinna told him, flashing a fake smile the child's way, as if trying not only to convince him, but herself. "And I'll take Maximilienne with me."

"Can I come, too? Please, Corinna!" Gratien asked, almost begging. "I haven't been outside in days!"

"I would rather that you stay and help Éponine tend to your Uncle Lucien." she replied, gesturing to the gamine. "Make sure he does what he's supposed to and stay in bed."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Éponine cut in, a worried expression on her face. She could feel a sort of apprehension from her, perhaps not wanting to be left alone with the child, especially within the home of someone she barely knew. "I mean no offense, but do you trust me well enough to leave me alone with Monsieur Enjolras and your son?"

Corinna took a deep breath, processing the gamine's words. Yes, she did trust her enough to leave the gamine alone with Gratien and the wounded man lying on the bed. No, because in Éponine's mind, they had just met, and for all she knew, the Éponine from five years ago could be a completely different person compared to the Éponine she knew two months ago. How did she know that this was not all an act, waiting to be left alone before searching the home for anything of value that she could sell on the streets?

"You have given me no reason not to." Corinna finally answered, trying to hide the trace of doubt she could feel lurking within. "Now, I'll return shortly. Gratien, behave for her, will you?"

He did not know how he did it, but he had somehow finally managed to convince the Lark to allow a small walk among the Parisian streets. Perhaps it was because of how persistent he was in his asking over the past week that had allowed a sort of breakthrough.

"Now, remember, monsieur, my father permitted us to go no further than the Jardin du Luxembourg." Cosette reminded him for about the tenth time that day. "After a promenade there, we are to head straight back. If we are gone longer than a few hours, my father has every right to be worried."

"I know and I understand." he replied, trying hard not to wince from the pain in his stomach and chest. "A father has a right to be concerned about his daughter when she is being accompanied with a man, whether it be one he has known since birth or only a few hours."

The Lark nodded with a slight smile. "Do not give a reason to be worried about my own welfare. I am frightened enough wandering these streets with my father, even if it is to help the less fortunate."

If only we had been successful…he thought to himself, looking at the busy street around them. People and carriages crowded the street, each one having a specific destination in mind, whether it'd be a place of shelter or the theatre. There were beggars holding up hands to the sides of the carriages, pleading for anything that could allow them to buy anything that would keep them and their families alive. He could see a group of children hiding in an alley as a daring older one was attempting to snatch something from an unsuspecting vendor's cart, and he could not help but think of a particular gamin who was just as bold, the very same one who had risked his life to retrieve a few bullets of dead guardsmen.

A shame to have lost him. Quite a bright one despite his standard of living. Who knows what he could have done in the coming years?

He could recall the gamin's death well, and that was not by choice. The sight of him appearing on the wrong side of the barricade, Combeferre calling out to him to come back, Courfeyrac scrambling to save him while taking a chance of losing his life, the sounds of three gunshots and the boy's agony…

It was a terrible thing to recall, the entire ordeal. The killing of an innocent woman. The building of the barricade. The death of Marius as he pushed aside the disguised gamine. The first night and only night on the barricade. The dawn in which Enjolras announced they were the only barricade left moments before Feuilly had informed the chief that the gunpowder had been soaked through by the night's rain. The death of the gamin as he collected bullets. The final call for surrender. The final cries of the wounded and the dying, the collapsing of the dead. The loss of comrades, brothers. The retreat into the Café Musain. The throwing of glass as a final resort until there was nothing left except for four men standing, covered in gunpowder. Then gunshots, two men beside him falling and the world going black.

He knew there was no denying that such images would remain forever imprinted in his memory.

Cosette must have noticed somewhere along the line that something was troubling him, based upon the expression on her face, but she remained silent. She knew what it was without a single word being uttered before pausing in her step.

"Are your wounds bothering you?" she asked, though he was well aware that she knew that wasn't the case. "Would you like to turn back?"

"No, I can manage." he replied, forcing a weak smile before they continued on. While my friends cannot…

They walked along without further issue, though they had to take caution where they trod, unless young gamins and gamines be under their feet, trying to escape the hands of authority that had put them in such a poor position. The less fortunate lined the edges of the street, huddled close together and palms outstretched in search of an offering, anything that could somehow manage to get them through the day. Meanwhile, bourgeoisies continued on their promenades or hid in the safety of the carriages, trying to keep away from those who had not lived decently in days, years, if ever at all.

He found difficulty in ignoring the pain, both where the bullets had struck him and within his heart. The physical pain was something he only had to mind, something he only had to pay special attention to if the wounds were to ever heal properly. The emotional pain was what was taking its toll on him. With each step, his mind flickered to seemingly distant memories, most of them now surreal, as if the only place they had ever existed was within his mind.

Every figure, every face, that made a constant appearance in his mind, was surely dead. He had watched the fall of Marius, of Gavroche, of Bossuet, of Bahorel, up to the point of where he had lost consciousness, where as he collapsed Enjolras remained standing. He was certain the man perished there too, whether he was fired upon by the firing squad or executed by guillotine for treason.

We were all doomed there the moment the construction of the barricade began, he thought to himself harshly. Every last one of us.

His mind once again went back to its horrific details. The smoke, the gunpowder, the blood that formed pools throughout the streets. The corpses that laid scattered on both side of the barricades, covered in grime, gunpowder, and their own blood. The awkward angles of how some of the deceased were positioned. The gruesome appearance of the pale faces that stared back up at him, some who were strangers while others he knew. Watching men he knew die all around him, to see such a sight again, it would be too soon.

There was little you could do to save them, he reminded himself as the dark thoughts continued. It's not your fault.

He felt being pulled back by Cosette as a flock of gamins and gamines rushed in front of them. He did not even see them, his head too lost in the shadows of his mind.

"Are you alright, monsieur?" she asked gently, pausing for a moment. "Shall we turn back?"

"That won't be necessary." he replied as his eyes looked off into the direction the children ran. "I will be fine."

"You have not given me that impression."

"My apologies. There are so many places my mind is right now." He was not going to deny that there was something troubling him, something far deeper than his physical wounds.

Cosette's face fell. "Oh."

There was a brief silence between them as they carried on, occasionally taking a glance at the other to make sure they were alright. For her, it was to make sure he was not straining from being on his feet. For him, it was to see if the Lark appeared disturbed by perhaps the same thoughts that were plaguing him.

Before coming upon the Luxembourg Gardens, there was one place that they passed that he could not help but freeze in the midst of it.

The Café Musain.

Even by only gazing upon the old structure, everything about it was different, or so it seemed to him. The barricade that had once stood in front of it looked as if it had never existed. In between the cracks of the cobblestones, he could hardly see the traces of blood left behind by the wounded and the dead, the rain washing it all away. Looking upon the structure's ancient exterior, he could see the chips where bullets had ricocheted, or in some cases went through the wall. Its dirty, old windows were shattered, leaving behind nothing but miniscule shards of glass upon the ground. Worst of all, he could not set his eyes upon it without visualizing the traumatizing events he had experienced there.

A light touch to the shoulder had him spooked for a moment, but after realizing it had been Cosette, who must have noticed his behavior, he settled down quickly. Apparently he had allowed his mind to wander too far into the dark.

"Are you sure you will be alright, monsieur?"

With an uneven exhale, he replied, "I will be."

For a slight moment, Corinna had thought her eyes had deceived her, as Maximilienne held onto her hand tightly, the four-year-old unwilling to get lost in the crowds of Saint-Michel. Yet, at the same time, she was certain it was him. She recognized him almost immediately from behind, based upon the tall, somewhat lanky stature, the short brown hair that was similar to the color of his coat.

It was him, she was certain of it.

So Enjolras is not alone in this, she kept to herself as she carefully weaved through the crowd to get a closer look. She took care for him not to notice her, trying to keep her eyes upon him while still hiding within the crowd. And you wouldn't have thought men died here only about a short week ago…

"What do you see? What do you see?" Maximilienne asked curiously, trying to look around the people blocking her sight. "What is it?"

"Hush, child." Corinna scolded, resulting in the girl's pout, which occurred with little reaction from the blonde.

She was prepared to approach him when a young blonde entered her sight, placing a hand upon his shoulder, perhaps as a means of wordless comfort, but she watched as he flinched from the woman's touch. She could not recall seeing her before, and could only wonder who this strange girl was.

"Aren't we looking for Uncle Rainier or Monsieur Joly?" Maximilienne inquired, looking up at Corinna innocently.

"Yes." Corinna replied. She had not "forgotten" her original intentions for leaving her home that was currently containing an invalid, a gamine, and Gratien, though she knew her efforts would be fruitless. Both men had perished upon the barricade, she was certain of it. Despite the protests of the gamine, she was going in search of anyone trustworthy that could help, someone she would not have to fear about ratting her out and risking the lives of everyone around her. It would not be long before the searches of those missing began, had they not done so already.

Without her realization of it, Maximilienne had freed herself from the woman's grip and was heading straight in the direction Corinna had hesitated in moving towards. She called out to the child the moment she had taken notice of it and had done her best to catch up to her before the inevitable, but with the crowd, it was tougher for the woman to chase after a child who could fit through small places with ease.

When she had finally caught up to her, the child was already tugging on the man's coat, which easily gained her his attention. They were no strangers.

"And what are you doing wandering the streets by yourself?" he asked Maximilienne in a friendly tone, resulting in a giggle from the child. "You must be worrying Corinna sick."

Maximilienne shook her head with a wide smile. "She's behind me."

Corinna placed her hands upon the child's shoulders tightly, as not willing to lose the child again, and this time to a complete stranger.

The man looked up from Maximilienne to face Corinna, holding out his right hand. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Corinna."

Corinna took his hand and nodded, still partially shocked by the sight before her. "Likewise, Monsieur Joly."

Author's Note: Sorry this one took so long. (Life kind of got in the way). I got busy and then I wasn't home for a few days...I think you get the picture.

So...I hope no one is disappointed about who the other survivor was. I actually liked some of the guesses I saw and a part of me went, "Shouldn't have killed them off, shouldn't have killed them off..."

Also, I don't know if this is confusing anybody, so just in case, I'm going to clarify: Gratien is Enjolras' nephew through his sister, Annette. Combeferre is Gratien's father, and Corinna is basically Gratien's stepmother. The relationship of Combeferre/Corinna is actually based on the "Turnferre" ship, and in my head, I see her as Gina Beck, who played Turning Woman #3 (or was it 4?) in the 2012 Les Misérables film. If you saw her differently, that's fine too. I just wanted to clear things up before things seemed to be too confusing/complicated without sounding "too harsh." That, and I may just be paranoid.

Thanks!

(Reviews are greatly appreciated!) :)