AHHH. I haven't updated in forever! So sorry! Finals have kept me ridiculously busy. But I'm on break now, so hopefully I'll be able to finish this story soon!

Enjoy!

The final attack came at the barricade like a hurricane. The National Guard made no secret of their approach this time, and assaulted the insurgents ferociously.

Eponine was inside the wine shop, aiming and firing her pistol out of the window, not knowing if she hit anything. She saw Marius at one end of the barricade, more than half his body exposed, fighting wildly, and Enjolras at the other end, more hidden, dropping soldiers before they knew he was there.

But she only glimpsed these two briefly, as her eyes were searching for another. He was in and out of the smoke; sometimes she could see him and follow him with her eyes for minutes at a time, others she only caught his coattails as he darted here and there.

Attack after attack came. When Eponine saw Marius again, his face was bloody from wounds. Feuilly was limping. Courfeyrac was killed, and she watched in horror as Combeferre took three blows in the chest from a National Guard soldier's bayonet. He looked upward and died. Eponine laid her pistol on the windowsill, covering her mouth in horror.

A final assault came, and the center of the barricade gave way. Eponine saw Feuilly sprinting back toward the wine shop. She snatched up her pistol and ran downstairs, meeting him halfway.

Feuilly's face was bleeding, and he had been shot through the shoulder.

"Eponine, you've got to go! You'll be killed if you stay."

"You're coming with me?" she asked, "You can't possibly help any more, you're hurt!"

"I can't, 'Ponine," he said, laying his hand against her cheek.

"Then I won't go either!"

"You must."

"Not without you!" she cried. The National Guard was advancing toward the wine shop, and Enjolras was shouting, rallying the insurgents for a final attack. A shot whistled through the window and went through Eponine's calf. She shrieked and fell. Feuilly caught her with his good arm, steadying her.

"Feuilly!" someone yelled behind him. He turned to see Enjolras, standing tall and fierce with his rifle at his shoulder.

"Get out of here, Feuilly," Enjolras commanded, "there's nothing more you can do here. Take Eponine and go."

"But…"

"Vive la Revolution!" Enjolras cried, "Remember us, Feuilly. You must carry on the spirit of the people. Others will rise to take our place, until the earth is free! Stand with them! Now go!"

Feuilly grasped his hand briefly, and lifted Eponine over his good shoulder, going out a side door. Pure adrenaline kept him moving as he skirted the National Guard, who were too focused on the wine shop to see him make his way over the ruined barricade and out into the street.

But where to now? Feuilly's thoughts raced, and he moved as if in a dream.

Keep moving, he had to keep moving. Ignore the searing pain in his shoulder, the shots and screams behind him. Eponine moaned in pain. Eponine…he should comfort her. He could always comfort her. He knew what to say, what to do. But he couldn't. Everything, all of his strength, his mind, his body, his soul, were needed to keep him moving. He had to save her. The pain in his shoulder was ebbing into a steady burn, and her whimpers fell on deaf ears. A doctor, he should find a doctor. But what if the National Guard found him?

A man was up ahead, carrying another like a babe. They had been at the barricades…follow them! That man, he had given up his uniform so that a man could escape. Surely he would help!

"Monsieur!" Feuilly called, "Monsieur, help! Please!"

The man turned around and waited until they caught up. With some distant distaste, Feuilly recognized Marius in his arms, barely alive.

"Follow me," was all the man said. He went to a grate before a house, raising it and descending into the depths of the sewer. Feuilly followed.

Once they were in the bottom of the filth and the stench, the man paused and turned around.

"She is bleeding heavily. We must stop it before we go further," he said, using one hand to tear his coat into shreds. With his help, Feuilly bound Eponine's leg, and they continued on their way. Feuilly was lost, but the other man seemed to know where he was going, and they walked for what seemed like forever, cold and wet and stinking.

An almost phantom patrol of policemen appeared, and Feuilly's companion paused just long enough to let them pass before continuing. On and on they walked, before finally reaching the outlet where the sewer went up to the streets.

Feuilly uttered a groan of misery. The outlet was blocked by a heavy iron grate.

"What will we do?" he asked of the other man, who shook his head.

"I do not know. It seems God has destined us to die in this sewer. And my poor daughter, left all alone, without her father or her love!" he buried his face in his hands.

A man came out of the dark, and had a conversation with the man carrying Marius. Feuilly leaned against the wall, exhausted, not comprehending much. The man was asking for money in exchange for letting them out of the sewer. He had no money.

The other man paid off the one with the key to the sewer, and they ascended into the open air. Feuilly's only thought was to get Eponine to a doctor. A policeman was confronting his travel companion, but he didn't care. He only took enough time to figure out where he was before setting off in the direction of a doctor's house.

Feuilly banged on the door when they reached it, and a man answered. He wrinkled his nose and looked at them in shock.

"Dear God, man! What has happened to you?"

"I cannot say, monsieur. I can only beg your help. This girl has been shot through the leg and I through the shoulder. We need your help."

"Come inside."

Feuilly did as he was told, laying Eponine gently on the couch before collapsing onto the floor.

"Care for her first," he murmured, before fainting face-first into the carpet.