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They awoke to the sounds of young men hollering a warning of the National Guards return. Enjolras scrambled to his feet and helped Éponine carefully to hers so as not to pull her stitches. "I have to go," he murmured, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Please do no leave this café." She nodded solemnly and squeezed his hand; he gave her a stern look before turning and bursting out the front door. She saw someone immediately hand him a gun and her heart clenched with fear.
Éponine sighed uneasily. There have already been several unfortunate fatalities -men young and old that would never laugh or love again. All she could do was hope that their deaths would not be in vain. Those who were injured thus far were all expected to pull through and at least that was some sort of consolation. Everyone she knew and loved was still alive and fighting and she prayed that it would stay that way. Her and Joly sat in anxious silence, waiting for a patient, a surrender, a sign of some sort that would tell them it was all over, anything. But all they heard for a long time was gunshots, shouting, and other horrifying sounds of battle. It felt as if a weight was sitting on her chest that would only be lifted when she knew Enjolras was safe and this was all over.
"Gavroche come back!" she heard shouted in Courfeyrac's familiar voice. Her and Joly both jumped up at the same time and a wave of dread overwhelmed the pit of her stomach and for a moment she thought she might vomit at the thought of her brother in danger. Joly grabbed her arm to keep her from falling back to the ground. She shook her head and pulled away, bolting for the door and completely ignoring Enjolras' order to stay put.
"Éponine, don't!" Joly yelled, but she wasn't listening. She couldn't let her little brother die out there; he was just a little kid who shouldn't be involved in matters beyond his years.
Enjolas had also snapped to attention at the sound of Gavroche's name. He had grown fond of the street urchin and his unabashed enthusiasm for this rebellion and knowing he was Éponine's younger brother only softened his heart for the cunning little kid even more. Now however, he feared greatly for his safety. Courfeyrac was at the top of the barricade being help back by Combeferre as he tried to fling himself over to Gavroche's aid. Pained cries escaped Courfeyrac's mouth as he pleaded for his little friend to come back. Gavroche just smiled at him from the other side of the barricade where he was collecting ammunition from the bodies of dead soldiers and wholly exposing himself to the dangerous gunmen.
Éponine crashed into Enjolras, her face marred with concern. "Where's Gavroche?" she cried, "He shouldn't be here. What is he doing here?" She noticed Courfeyrac frantic at the top of the barricade when a shot rang out. The men went silent for a heartbeat and she could hear the pained grunts of a child coming from the other side before Courfeyrac began yelling at the National Guardsmen. Another shot silenced both him and Gavroche.
Enjolras hugged Éponine tightly to his chest and Courfeyrac went around the barricade to retrieve the young boy's body. He returned and fell to his knees, Gavroche clutched to his chest as he sobbed. Éponine dropped to the ground beside him and wrapped her arms around both the man and the boy, feeling agonized and defeated. Enjolras and Combeferre stood back helplessly as the pair sobbed over Gavroche's limp body. The fire in Enjolras' belly consumed him with rage and he climbed the barricade. "We must face our foes –make them bleed while we can!" He shouted, pointing his gun.
"Make them pay through the nose," Combeferre muttered as he comforted the distraught pair.
"Make them pay for every man!" Courfeyrac added intensely, a hand still resting on the boy he considered family.
"Let us rise and fight until the earth is free!" Enjolras hollered before firing at their opposition. The battle resumed with a renewed sense of vigor –each man was acutely aware of exactly what they were fighting for. A line was crossed when a young boy was cruelly executed and the men were not about to let the guards get away with such an atrocious offence. Courfeyrac leaped to his feet and grabbed his gun, consumed by fury over his fallen brother. Éponine picked up Gavroche's body and carefully carried him inside. She placed him gently on the floor and simply sat with him for a while.
"I'm so sorry," Joly whispered after several long minutes.
"Me too," she murmured in response, wiping the tears out of her eyes.
She tried to busy herself with changing some of the men's bandages and observing Joly as he checked people's pulses or stitched up cuts. She needed the distraction from the empty ache in her heart. It was impossible to wrap her head around the fact that she would never see the sly twinkle in Gavroche's eye or his mischievous grin ever again. She would never see him grow into a gangly teenager and then a man; he would forever be a young boy, struck down way too soon. He was so self-sufficient and bold with an admirable strength and obvious leadership qualities when seen with the other abandoned street urchin children. He did not deserve an ending like this, but his death would not be for nothing. This rebellion had to bring freedom to France or Éponine would forever feel guilty over the manner of her brother's demise.
After what seemed like an endless period of time she wandered over to the door and stared morosely out the window. Bodies were piling up and she grimaced as she recognized the dirty faces of people she had seen on the streets before and also attendees of the many rallies the amies had held. We're losing, Éponine thought. There seemed to be endless amounts of guards and our numbers were dwindling. Maybe more will join us, she prayed helplessly. She pressed her cheek against the glass to search for Enjolras. He was fighting with several guards at the far end of the barricade. As she watched, a guard knocked his gun from his grasp and he stumbled backwards a few feet away from the men. The guards raised their weapons and Enjolras attempted to duck behind an overturned table, but it was too late.
Éponine watched in horror as Enjolras took the bullets in the chest, throwing him off balance and causing him to fall backwards off the barricade. He seemed to be dropping in slow motion, but everyone seemed frozen in place and unable to reach him. "No!" she screamed in dread. His arms flailed for something to grab to stop his fall, but there was nothing and no one could get to him fast enough. His head connected with the stone street with a sickening crunch. Time returned to its normal pace and Éponine ran to him with little regard for what was going on around her. She threw herself to the ground next to his limp body and cupped his face in her hands. "Enjolras?" she cried desperately. "Please," she pleaded before being reduced to hysterical sobs. How cruel to have everything she loved taken away when she finally felt truly happy. She screamed for Joly and he promptly came running. When he reached them, he immediately pressed his fingers to the side of Enjolras' neck and smiled slightly when he found a pulse. Éponine held her breath and waited for the prognosis.
"He's alive, but his pulse is weak and he is probably concussed," he stated clinically, "We need to get him out of here immediately." Blood was quickly pooling around them from the multiple bullet holes pierced through Enjolras' abdomen. Joly tugged his shirt off over the blond curls that were becoming matted with blood to assess the damage the bullets had done. Éponine gasped when she saw the torn, exposed flesh of Enjolras' chest. An image of his previously smooth and flawless skin flashed behind Éponine's eyelids. Her vision swam and she thought she might black out at the horrific sight. It was a wonder he was alive. Joly began wrapping gauze around him and applying pressure to slow the bleeding. Éponine released her held breath and tried to stop her tears from falling. The man she loved needed her, she couldn't let her emotions take over and cloud her judgment.
Also having witnessed their leader fall, Combeferre and Courfeyrac rushed over. They stared feebly at him, both with tear-filled eyes. "Combeferre, Enjolras would want you left in charge," Éponine pronounced, getting a hold of her emotions and feeling determined not to let another person she loves die. "Courfeyrac help me take him home please. And Joly," she paused looking at him suddenly feeling exhausted, "please meet us there as soon as you can."
The men just nodded, not wanting to argue with the crazed looking young woman. She somehow felt livid and detached at the same time. With Enjolras proposing, yesterday was the best day of her life, but everything had changed in an instant and it felt like she was spiraling out of control. She realized that her emotional distance was her falling back into old habits to protect herself. If she didn't care, it didn't have to hurt. But this did hurt, it hurt more than anything she had ever experienced. Losing her brother was the first crushing blow, but now the man she loved was also fighting for his life. She had no idea how to deal with the immense grief she felt so she tried to block it out, push it down deep inside and forget about it, but it was impossible to ignore. If she lost Enjolras too, she didn't know how she would cope. Surely moving on would be unbearable. The thought alone was unimaginable.
"C'est le pire jour de ma vie," she muttered as her and Courfeyrac lifted Enjolras' limp body as carefully as possible and headed for home. He looked at her with deep sorrowful eyes and she could tell he was hurting just as badly as she was.
A/N: Well I believe this was the most depressing chapter so far. My apologies for ripping your hearts out of your chests. But hey! It can only get better… or not… the agony might not be over yet… REVIEW PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE!
C'est le pire jour de ma vie = This is the worst day of my life. Therefore, Le pire = the worst.