Enjolras jolted awake, nearly toppling over as he realized he was still standing up.
He was leaning up against the side of the barricade, and he had to put his head in his
hands as all of his hazy, obscure dreams came rushing back to him at once. It hit him
like a blow to the gut, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Foggy, they were, but he
suddenly remembered that every one had included her. Some were nightmares,
some were blissful; but all were centered around her face, her smile, her eyes. There
was one phantasmagoria, clearer in his head than the others, that especially focused
on them. He was just standing before her, and her eyes were closed. When he called
to her, they snapped open, and suddenly they became a massive blue-green wave,
washing over him and dragging him beneath the surface. This is where it became
hazier; at some points he was sinking, drowning; but enjoying it with a smile on his
face. At others, he was terrified because she'd suddenly appear in the waters beside
him, air leaving her lungs in bubbling screams. She'd be so close, but not close
enough for him to reach her. The images switched back and forth between the two
feelings; serene joy, sinking deeper into her eyes, and frantic alarm as he watched
her drown before him. He'd never before experienced such a dream sequence, and
the eeriness of it all left him panting where he stood, trying to force air into his lungs
as if he'd never breathe again. He tried to steady his abrupt dizziness by looking up
at the sky, which was a consistent, non-swaying light purple, to his relief.
Light purple…
He snapped to attention before he could even finish the thought. He'd nodded off!
He'd given into his exhaustion, and now it was no more than an hour before dawn!
He cursed under his breath, then straightened and began walking in the direction of
the main camp. He arrived at the speed of light, clapping his hands to wake any men
who might have done the same as he. His eyes flew to the watch post, where
Grantaire stood, having taken over at some point in the night, surprisingly fully
awake and alertly scanning the horizon beyond the barricade. The others were now
sitting up, fully attentive, and, after a few minutes of hollering, the entire unit was
standing in front of him, guns strapped to their backs. He smiled widely when he
saw their quick response, but that grin was wiped away when he instigated a head
count and came back with their usual thirty-five; and that was including the old man,
Lynette, and himself. He'd tried to graze right past her as he'd spotted her in the
crowd, but he found he just couldn't quickly tear his gaze away from those haunting
eyes, looking at him so expectantly. As soon as he finished, he knew something was
wrong. "Grantaire, where are the new recruits?" he shouted up to the man.
"New recruits?" Grantaire cocked his head, bemused.
"Yes, the last minute volunteers, the people coming to heed our call?"
Enjolras shortly explained, though a strange feeling had begun to settle in his gut.
For a few moments, the entire barricade was silent. Even the wind ceased to blow as
if waiting for the sober scout's response.
"There… there were none." Grantaire answered in a murmur. Quiet as it was,
everyone heard him. And those were the exact words Enjolras had hoped to avoid,
the very words that would send his entire world crashing down on top of him. They
had not come. They had left the very men fighting to save them to die. And die they
would; for without even the minimum number he'd anticipated so exactly, so
intimately in his plans, they would not have enough men to defeat the army arriving
in just a few hours. His gaze flew fearfully to Lynette, and he saw that she instantly
found the panic in his eyes, and her own widened in anxiety. With just that one
exchange, just that brief glance between leaders, they both knew that they were all
going to die. And, as he gazed into her oceanic eyes, he was gut-wrenchingly
terrified…
For her.
As he watched emotions dance across her beautiful face; watched her smooth, tan
skin crease in worry, her full, pink lips part in a silent 'o', her chocolate waves quiver
in the nervous breeze, he suddenly didn't care about the loss that had just been so
painfully realized. All he cared about is that she would live, that she would escape
this deathly, hellish fate. That was the moment when he really realized he'd fallen in
love with her; when he noticed that when he looked at her, he felt the same blazing
love and concern that he did for his country. He didn't know how it had happened,
he didn't know when. He just knew. In a sudden rush, in that one moment;
everything that Marius had said made sense, everything was clear. No, he hadn't
been caught in a burst of light or felt his heart set fire when he had first laid eyes on
her, but he did know that she was everything he desired; a perfect package of
intelligence, kindness, generosity, spunk, and strength, not to mention her flawless
beauty. Lynette had squeezed her way into his heart, and now he found that she'd
stolen it completely, become a second Patria. He loved her, and if she died today…
He abruptly realized that he'd been standing there, frozen, for several minutes
straight, and the crowd of men had begun to shift uncomfortably, waiting for him to
say something. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from her.
"The people have not stirred," he began quietly, "They abandon us, too caught up in
their fear. But we will not abandon them just because they cannot hear our
desperate call, the call of freedom." He looked around gravely, watching as the truth
hit each and every one of them. "But, let us not waste lives. All the husbands and
fathers of children may go from here." There was complete stillness as his words
sunk in, and the message was as clear as if he'd shouted, 'We're all going to die in a
matter of hours!' But when someone did move, it was not to cry out, it was not to
gasp in agony. It was one of Lynette's men, a young, strong, healthy lad, sifting
through the crowd to stand in front of her. "If I could stay to finish what we started, I
would. But my wife and daughter are waiting for me at home, and I must return to
them. It's been a pleasure working under you, Mademoiselle Lynette." He told her,
saluting. Her face remained somber, but she replied, "It's been nice having you,
Jonah. Tell you wife and little girl we fight for them today." He pursed his lips, her
comment obviously moving him, and nodded before slipping away to bid farewell to
some of the others. His action sparked the others, and soon Enjolras too was flooded
with the men leaving them, shaking his head and wishing him Godspeed. And before
long, they were gone, disappearing along with any last string of hope they might
have had. Enjolras looked out at the diminished group, counting fourteen men,
including he and Lynette. He skimmed over the faces of his closest friends, a lump
settling in his throat. None of them looked fearful, depressed, or even angry towards
him. They each had a weak, hopeless smile on their face, and for some reason, that
made the lump swell even more. Suddenly, Combeferre came forward, holding out
his hand to Enjolras. Enjolras took it and embraced him, clapping him on the back.
"I'm sorry to have lead you into this." He whispered weakly. Comebeferre leaned
back and glared at him. "You didn't. I followed you into this. It was my choice, and if I
hear you blaming yourself, I'll shoot you myself." He grinned.
Enjolras chuckled, answering, "Like the time you 'followed me' straight into
that pond in the woods?"
"Liar. You pushed me." Comebeferre laughed gaily.
"Ah. So I did." Enjolras snickered. After this exchange, Combeferre went to
Lynette, and said, "Miss Lynette, let me just say you are the sharpest woman I've
ever met, both in intellect and attitude." It was something she'd normally take as a
challenge and return quick-wittedly, but not today. She gave him a quick hug, saying,
"And you, Combeferre, are wise as an old sage and the most loyal man I know. It's
been a pleasure serving with you." Then she suddenly turned away from him,
raising her voice just the slightest bit. "In fact, it's been a pleasure standing
alongside all of you. I know I've only known you for a few days, but in those few days
I found more of a family in you than I have in my own family in a few years. Thank
you, brothers." Grantaire came down from his post as she was saying this, and, after
she'd finished, he smiled widely at her, stretching out his arms. "Well, doesn't Uncle
Grantaire get a hug?" he asked her.
She grinned back, laughing quietly. "Of course, Grantaire." She went over to
embrace the former drunkard, who made no comment as she did. And, as the men
continued their goodbyes to each other, she went around to each and every one of
them, doing the very same with each of the men she'd called her 'brothers'. After
Feuilly and Joly had come up to him, Enjolras was faced with Marius. "So there really
is no chance then?" the young, lovesick pup asked.
"Not with so few of us. We'll die, but at least we'll do so in Patria's proud
name." Enjolras answered, then his brow knit in concern. "Do you want to leave? If
you go now, perhaps you can—"
"And then what? From what she's said, her father would let me nowhere near
her. I'm staying, Enjolras. If I can't have her, I can't live." He responded simply.
Enjolras clapped his shoulder. "That's a noble action to take. I'm happy for you… I
guess." Marius chuckled, then nodded and walked away. Out of the corner of his eye,
Enjolras saw the old man watching Marius with a strange, soft look in his eyes.
Curiosity set in, but he ignored it as Courfeyrac and Lesgles approached him. Then,
as he was in the middle of his final valediction with the two, Feuilly began to sing
again. "Drink with me to days gone by, sing with me the songs we knew…" And without
another words, the others joined in, "At the shrine of friendship, raise you glass high!
Let the wine of friendship never run dry!" And as they sang the last line, the final part,
Lynette began walking towards him, step so elegant it was as if she were floating
above the ground. "If I die, I die… with you." And with that, the lump in his throat
exploded into a dreadful pain, as their eyes locked, brown on blue. Before she could
even reach him for her adieu, he'd bounded towards her and taken her hand, pulling
her towards the back alleyway of the tavern. He ignored her confused protests,
creaking open the door and tugging her into the storeroom. It was surprisingly well
lit for so early in the morning, but he figured Combeferre had simply done a final
check-over while he was asleep. He turned to face her, and the second she did she
exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing?"
He laughed gently in spite of himself. "My, I was beginning to think you never
cussed."
"Don't give me that, Enjolras, what is going on?" she asked, a bewildered
expression congealed on her face. His own grew serious, and he looked into her
dazzling eyes, taking a deep breath. "Alright, this is going to be one of the strangest
things I've ever said to you. I need you to… somehow keep yourself safe in the
coming battle." Her mouth opened in surprise, and her face puckered in an amazed
befuddlement. "What?"
"I need you to keep yourself safe, shield yourself from the coming dangers."
He repeated, voice breaking in his burningly fearful concern.
"Wh—wh—are you suggesting me to flee?" she asked, completely perplexed,
as if she couldn't even believe he was asking such a thing of her.
"If that's what you think will save you, yes." He replied firmly.
"So you're expecting me to run and hide after all of our careful planning, all of
our preparation? Abscond from the battle I've been waiting for nearly all my life?"
she retorted. He opened his mouth to answer, but none came. He realized it was a
lost cause to ask her to run, it would be like asking the sky to stop being blue.
Impossible. "Well, alright, maybe not. Asking you to do that would be like, well…
asking me to do that. You just have to promise me you'll be more than careful. Make
sure you're safe and out of harm's way at all times." He begged her desperately.
"I—just—what has gotten into you?" she stumbled, inquiring peculiarly.
"I can't… I can't lose you." He whispered weakly, despair striking his features.
"Wh—what do you mean by that? Enjolras, tell me what's going on right now
or I'll—" she began shouting, exasperated, but he cut her off…
Crushing his lips to her. He just couldn't hold it back anymore. He could feel her
slight gasp just before he made contact, but, to his relief, she seemed too stunned to
pull back or hit him. He closed his eyes and let sudden, foreign emotions wash over
him, feeling as though he'd been struck by lightning. Electrifying. Except this was
different; this was one of the most pleasurable things he'd ever felt, with its catalytic
heat coursing through him like electric flames. Her hair was as soft as he'd imagined
it would be, and he reached one of his hands up, catching the back of her head to pull
her closer to him. At first, it was as if he was kissing a statue, she was so frozen and
unresponsive. But soon, her instinct must've taken over, because he felt her lips
begin to move with his, and the sudden action sent a shiver down his spine. He was
blissfully surprised by how happy this was making him feel; he had no idea that one
little exploit could carry with it so much gratification. He felt her reach up and wrap
her arms around his neck, and the arm that wasn't at the back of her head tightened
around her waist, pressing her against him. Their mouths moved together as if
connected, and each tiny movement he felt her warm, tender lips make made his
heart detonate into a blaze. And then, all at once, it was over. She pulled away
suddenly, gasping and leaning up against his chest. He was breathing heavily as well,
wobbling slightly as that kiss had taken his breath away. So he just stood there,
feeling her dark brown locks tickling his neck and jaw, mouth open in a dazed
ecstasy. He had just kissed the girl he loved, and her glorious responses had made
him feel wondrous things he'd never felt before. "D—does that answer… your
question?" he breathed. She was silent for a moment; the only thing he could hear
was her breathing and the wild beating of his heart. But then she managed, "When
did you—"
"I don't know. I just realized that I couldn't live without you, and if you died
today, I'd never forgive myself, even if I was watching from the Promised Land." He
answered in tones barely above a whisper.
"I… I don't know what to say." She uttered, backing up a step. He immediately
grabbed her nimble hands with their long, elegant fingers, and looked her in the
eyes, saying, "Tell me you love me. Tell me you'll keep yourself safe." He thought he
saw her eyes begin to glitter, but he must've imagined it, because he blinked once
and it was gone. "I… I… I don't know, Enjolras! Everything's happening so damn
quickly right now! I'm so overwhelmed, so confused… I can't think straight." She
exclaimed feebly, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose
between her forefinger and her thumb. He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to
ignore the aching disappointment he felt at her words. He couldn't blame her;
finding out she was likely to die, having to lead a group of men into a slaughter, and
hearing his declaration of love for her all in a matter of twenty minutes was a lot to
take in; not to mention the fogginess of mind she probably felt right now if that kiss
had been as ardent for her as it had been for him. "I understand, it's a lot happening
at once. But please, at least promise me your welfare." He pleaded, boring his eyes
into hers.
"I—alright. I guess it's the least I can give you right now. You have my word."
She replied sincerely, before turning and heading towards the door.
"No, stop!" he called. She turned around to face him, but, suppliant as a child,
all he could say was, "Stay." She whipped around, hiding her face. "I'm sorry." She
whimpered before dashing out the door. He stood there, wanting to yell and laugh
and cry all at the same time. He'd done what he needed to; she would take utmost
caution during the battle to ensure her walking away from it with her life. But he
now found that all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and kiss her,
holding her there, protecting her, until this whole nightmare had passed over them.
But he knew that was one thing she'd never stand for. She'd said it herself; she was
not about to run and hide from the battle she'd dedicated so much of her life to. Hell,
she may not even feel the same way for him! Why in the world would she agree to
something like that? A new, frightening thought crept over him, and he imagined the
situation where they both survived, but then she walked out of his life forever as
soon as the feat was through. He couldn't bear it if he'd finally found his living,
breathing Patria, and then she disappeared, never to love him as he did her. But he
couldn't think that way; he knew that he had to use her lack of response as a reason
to live, a reason to come out of this battle unscathed. She'd never said she didn't love
him, just that she was too jumbled to answer right then. Perhaps she'd find she did…
or perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. Perhaps he was letting his hopes soar,
only to fall and be shattered later on. But it didn't matter. He would use it as motive
to fight. He would fight for her.
A/N: And… there it is. The exciting chapter I promised. ;)
What's this? Enjolras… in love… with a real woman?
Bwahaha I am so evilly fluffy. This much fluffiness in writing should not be legal. And yet I am soooo glad it is. XD And there's more to come, too! *laughs devilishly* I do hope you'll keep reading to see what else is in store! Including… the end of the battle. It is nearing, dear readers. How will our hero and heroine fare? R&R! ~DonJuana
