A/N: Pamplemousse: Yep, I have the CSR. Best thing I ever spent 50 bucks
on. (almost didn't have enough actually...got scared) It's my
precioussss. *ahem* First time it skipped I almost killed. Anyway, I love
Anthony Warlow as Enjy. He's incredible. Not to say Michael Maguire isn't
good, but he's just sooo much better...
So, this is it. But not really. I'm writing an extended "Red and Black", so watch for that in the next few...days, weeks, who knows. Hehe...Enjoy! And if you don't cry at the end I'll come after you! No, not really, I just felt like saying that. *shrug*
=============
**Marius**
I could feel my hands shaking-whether with fear or incredible anger, I wasn't sure-as I loaded my gun. The others were lining up with their weapons. No one spoke.
Through a hole in the barricade, I could see the Garde Nationale. They were lining their muzzles up against the top of their small fortification, just like they had during the last skirmish. This time, though, they sent more troops out into the streets. /Many/ more troops.
I paused the loading of my gun and stared. Combeffere stood next to me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him stiffen, watching the soldiers line up in neat, stationed rows.
"A Dieu vat..." Combeffere whispered. My heart began to pound.
They raised their guns in preparation to fire, and I realized I had not finished loading my own.
"Prepare yourselves!" Enjolras said suddenly.
Not a moment too soon, I mused silently, as the Garde Nationale fired. The air was full of smoke and bullets. I ducked to the side to continue loading my gun.
I fired off a shot. The street was so full of smoke that I could not see the soldiers at all. /This is it,/ I realized. /That's Death staring at us from that smoke./
Prepared to take death as it came to me, I reloaded swiftly and fired again out into the foggy mess of bullets and smoke. We could at least stand here for a little while before they overtook us.
Combeffere was the first to fall. I flinched as the bullet came dangerously close to me, but went for him instead. I watched him stumble back, a hand over his chest and his face contorted in pain. I wanted to go to him, but turned and fired again.
Time slowed itself. The report of the musket made no noise at all, the recoil of the butt caused no pain against my already bruised shoulder, my ears were drowned by the surreal sense of death that was descending upon us all.
Around me, my friends started to fall.
Feuilly went down fast, clutching his throat. He was dead before he hit the ground. Courfeyrac was already lying bleeding on the top of the barricade, his fingers limp around his musket. Somehow in the fray, the red flag that had once meant so much to us became dislodged. Through the smoke and haze I saw Enjolras look up and run for it, his mouth open in a desperate yell I couldn't hear. Joly and Lesgles went down together, the force of one bullet ripping through both of their bodies. I was intent on watching Enjolras. He got to the top and picked free the flag, and defiantly started waving it back and forth in a mocking gesture to the Garde Nationale. Grantaire slumped down on the barricade. Prouvaire had fallen atop of him.
I yelled out to Enjolras even as I watched him get hit once, twice, a third time. My scream was dulled in my own ears. Enjolras-my friend, mentor and leader-stumbled back a step but stubbornly waved the flag once more before slumping down on the flag pole and disappearing over the other side of the barricade, taking the tangled and torn flag with him.
I started to run to him. Time suddenly reversed itself once more and I felt myself fall to the ground even as the bullet shot through my thigh. Gasping from the pain and struggling for breath, I rolled over, hoping for some salvation, and stared into the clear, glossy eyes of Feuilly. I had landed in a puddle of something thick and wet, which I realized was his blood. A strangled cry escaped my throat and I thought I was going to be sick.
The edges of my vision started to blur. /Is this what Éponine felt?/ I had to wonder.
Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I saw the silhouette of a body stoop over me, their arms reaching out to take me. I felt myself lifted from the ground even as I blacked out.
~*~
Two months.
Has it really been that long? Surely not, it can't be possible...a week, perhaps...yesterday, wasn't it just yesterday when I held a dying Éponine in my arms, watched a little boy have the life shot from him? Enjolras...he was at the summit, protecting that red flag...red, for revolution. Just like Grantaire said...
I looked up, drawing myself from the reverie, pulling myself from the thoughts that so often flew through my troubled mind. The hospital room was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the two taper candles on my table. Outside the window, I could only see darkness.
There was only darkness today, and I was thankful for that at least. Darkness, and not the faces of my friends staring in at me, asking me why I had lived and they had all perished.
"It wasn't my fault..." I mumbled, hardly aware of the words slipping from my lips. "I wanted to die there with you!" I slammed a hand on the table violently. The candles wobbled precariously and hot wax spilled onto the table and over my fingers. Desperate, I shouted out to the silence, "Why?"
I calmed myself, realizing that I was shouting to the shadows again. Only the shadows, not Grantaire and Feuilly, not Gavroche and Lesgles. They weren't there anymore. They were dead, and I had to keep telling myself that. With a sigh I closed my eyes. There was Enjolras once more, waving that red flag defiantly, getting shot down, sliding down the side of the barricade to rest upon the torn flag.
With an almost savage cry of utmost desperation I stood up. "Why? Why don't you leave me alone?" I whirled around to escape from the faces that were staring at me from the windows. I clutched my head with hands that were cold against my skin. "No! Don't ask me what your sacrifice was for! Don't ask me why you died and I didn't! I didn't ask for that!" I took a step and crumpled, falling helplessly to the floor, where their phantom shadows were leaning from the windows. The empty chairs in the corner of the room leered at me cynically. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry nothing's changed. It's all the same, Enjolras! Please, forgive me..."
Suddenly, there was someone at my side. I looked up-it was Cosette. How long had she been there? Why hadn't I heard the door open?
She knelt down beside me and smiled compassionately. "Oh, Marius." Her words were soft and comforting, her fingers warm as they smoothed the rumpled hair that was hanging over my eyes.
"Cosette."
She held out a hand and helped me up, allowing me to lean on her until I got back to my chair. She sat down next to me. "Every day, Marius, you're getting stronger, taking longer steps. The worst is over, they say."
"Every day I wonder who it was that brought me here, back from the barricades." I said glumly. I took a quick, almost fearful glance at the window. The faces were receding, fading into the night.
She put on a stern gaze. "Oh, Marius, don't think of that! With all these years ahead of us...I'm not going anywhere, and we will be together every day." She said.
I stared at her for a moment. She had been there through it all, since the very first day I had come back from that horrible place. "Dear mademoiselle..." I whispered, taking her hand. She smiled.
I glanced over my shoulder at the window. It was dark and empty. Just the way I wanted it.
So, this is it. But not really. I'm writing an extended "Red and Black", so watch for that in the next few...days, weeks, who knows. Hehe...Enjoy! And if you don't cry at the end I'll come after you! No, not really, I just felt like saying that. *shrug*
=============
**Marius**
I could feel my hands shaking-whether with fear or incredible anger, I wasn't sure-as I loaded my gun. The others were lining up with their weapons. No one spoke.
Through a hole in the barricade, I could see the Garde Nationale. They were lining their muzzles up against the top of their small fortification, just like they had during the last skirmish. This time, though, they sent more troops out into the streets. /Many/ more troops.
I paused the loading of my gun and stared. Combeffere stood next to me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him stiffen, watching the soldiers line up in neat, stationed rows.
"A Dieu vat..." Combeffere whispered. My heart began to pound.
They raised their guns in preparation to fire, and I realized I had not finished loading my own.
"Prepare yourselves!" Enjolras said suddenly.
Not a moment too soon, I mused silently, as the Garde Nationale fired. The air was full of smoke and bullets. I ducked to the side to continue loading my gun.
I fired off a shot. The street was so full of smoke that I could not see the soldiers at all. /This is it,/ I realized. /That's Death staring at us from that smoke./
Prepared to take death as it came to me, I reloaded swiftly and fired again out into the foggy mess of bullets and smoke. We could at least stand here for a little while before they overtook us.
Combeffere was the first to fall. I flinched as the bullet came dangerously close to me, but went for him instead. I watched him stumble back, a hand over his chest and his face contorted in pain. I wanted to go to him, but turned and fired again.
Time slowed itself. The report of the musket made no noise at all, the recoil of the butt caused no pain against my already bruised shoulder, my ears were drowned by the surreal sense of death that was descending upon us all.
Around me, my friends started to fall.
Feuilly went down fast, clutching his throat. He was dead before he hit the ground. Courfeyrac was already lying bleeding on the top of the barricade, his fingers limp around his musket. Somehow in the fray, the red flag that had once meant so much to us became dislodged. Through the smoke and haze I saw Enjolras look up and run for it, his mouth open in a desperate yell I couldn't hear. Joly and Lesgles went down together, the force of one bullet ripping through both of their bodies. I was intent on watching Enjolras. He got to the top and picked free the flag, and defiantly started waving it back and forth in a mocking gesture to the Garde Nationale. Grantaire slumped down on the barricade. Prouvaire had fallen atop of him.
I yelled out to Enjolras even as I watched him get hit once, twice, a third time. My scream was dulled in my own ears. Enjolras-my friend, mentor and leader-stumbled back a step but stubbornly waved the flag once more before slumping down on the flag pole and disappearing over the other side of the barricade, taking the tangled and torn flag with him.
I started to run to him. Time suddenly reversed itself once more and I felt myself fall to the ground even as the bullet shot through my thigh. Gasping from the pain and struggling for breath, I rolled over, hoping for some salvation, and stared into the clear, glossy eyes of Feuilly. I had landed in a puddle of something thick and wet, which I realized was his blood. A strangled cry escaped my throat and I thought I was going to be sick.
The edges of my vision started to blur. /Is this what Éponine felt?/ I had to wonder.
Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I saw the silhouette of a body stoop over me, their arms reaching out to take me. I felt myself lifted from the ground even as I blacked out.
~*~
Two months.
Has it really been that long? Surely not, it can't be possible...a week, perhaps...yesterday, wasn't it just yesterday when I held a dying Éponine in my arms, watched a little boy have the life shot from him? Enjolras...he was at the summit, protecting that red flag...red, for revolution. Just like Grantaire said...
I looked up, drawing myself from the reverie, pulling myself from the thoughts that so often flew through my troubled mind. The hospital room was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the two taper candles on my table. Outside the window, I could only see darkness.
There was only darkness today, and I was thankful for that at least. Darkness, and not the faces of my friends staring in at me, asking me why I had lived and they had all perished.
"It wasn't my fault..." I mumbled, hardly aware of the words slipping from my lips. "I wanted to die there with you!" I slammed a hand on the table violently. The candles wobbled precariously and hot wax spilled onto the table and over my fingers. Desperate, I shouted out to the silence, "Why?"
I calmed myself, realizing that I was shouting to the shadows again. Only the shadows, not Grantaire and Feuilly, not Gavroche and Lesgles. They weren't there anymore. They were dead, and I had to keep telling myself that. With a sigh I closed my eyes. There was Enjolras once more, waving that red flag defiantly, getting shot down, sliding down the side of the barricade to rest upon the torn flag.
With an almost savage cry of utmost desperation I stood up. "Why? Why don't you leave me alone?" I whirled around to escape from the faces that were staring at me from the windows. I clutched my head with hands that were cold against my skin. "No! Don't ask me what your sacrifice was for! Don't ask me why you died and I didn't! I didn't ask for that!" I took a step and crumpled, falling helplessly to the floor, where their phantom shadows were leaning from the windows. The empty chairs in the corner of the room leered at me cynically. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry nothing's changed. It's all the same, Enjolras! Please, forgive me..."
Suddenly, there was someone at my side. I looked up-it was Cosette. How long had she been there? Why hadn't I heard the door open?
She knelt down beside me and smiled compassionately. "Oh, Marius." Her words were soft and comforting, her fingers warm as they smoothed the rumpled hair that was hanging over my eyes.
"Cosette."
She held out a hand and helped me up, allowing me to lean on her until I got back to my chair. She sat down next to me. "Every day, Marius, you're getting stronger, taking longer steps. The worst is over, they say."
"Every day I wonder who it was that brought me here, back from the barricades." I said glumly. I took a quick, almost fearful glance at the window. The faces were receding, fading into the night.
She put on a stern gaze. "Oh, Marius, don't think of that! With all these years ahead of us...I'm not going anywhere, and we will be together every day." She said.
I stared at her for a moment. She had been there through it all, since the very first day I had come back from that horrible place. "Dear mademoiselle..." I whispered, taking her hand. She smiled.
I glanced over my shoulder at the window. It was dark and empty. Just the way I wanted it.