Okay, so it's been 4 years. you know me, kill of a character then come back 4 years later. What's up

Hopefuly Les Mis is still relevant enough for people to want to read this

(I realised I only had a handful of chapters to write and figured, hey! might as well go back to that thing I was writing)

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

Clive awoke slowly in a place he didn't recognise. His body ached, and the morning sun hurt his eyes as he tried to work out where he was. There wasn't a sign of the London street, and the air was devoid of any sounds of fighting. He felt a great pain as he tried to sit up and noticed a cast round his arm, with a towel pressed to his forehead. Pulling himself out of bed carefully he looked around.

The place seemed familiar but he couldn't quite place it. He made his way down the corridor, stopping at the top of the staircase and calling out feebly. A young voice responded to him and Flora came running up the stairs, looking concerned. He smiled when he saw her, despite his confusion. He was sure she was gone forever. Or that he'd die before seeing her again. She spoke with worry, holding his arm.

"It's good to see you up again. Are you feeling okay?" Clive nodded at her, but was distracted by the luxurious room around him.

"Yes. But… Where am I?"

"The Hotel Duke." Flora pointed Clive to what was beyond the bannisters, a busy lobby of workers, there was a younger woman at the desk speaking with a man, he assumed to be Flora's dad.. "They say you were found lying in the street."

"I don't understand…."

"Last night, you were found injured. You looked as if you'd been attacked." The pain in his arm started again, as if recalling memories he couldn't himself place. "But you're safe now." The last thing he remembered was gunshots, and the feel of water against his legs. But they said he was found in the street.

"What about the barricade…. My friends?"

"The fighting stopped last night." Clive smiled, perhaps he'd be able to catch them before everything was cleared away. "I'm sure you'll be able to see them now."

"in that case, would you be able to accompany me down to the clockshop? If the fighting is truly finished, there should be no danger." Flora looked down at her father again. Clive could see her apprehension.

"Alright, but we'll have to go out the back, He doesn't want us out in the street with all the soldiers around."

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"Did you see them all heading out?" There was the sound of the cloth hitting the pavement as the townspeople spoke, the red stains refused to leave the stones. "They were so determined; I really thought they'd do it." A woman frowned as she furiously scrubbed at the floor.

"They didn't know what they were getting into, poor things." An older man scoffed, he knew it would fail.

"They were a bunch of criminals, they were putting the very lives of our people at risk" conversations and opinions had moved back and forth all day, with nobody seeming to agree on whether the barricade had been worth of the people there were simply trying to help out the homeowners on the street, offering their kindness after the distress of the past few nights. But a solemn few sat together by the clock shop entrance, there in remembrance of the students.

One woman stood with a hand against the door frame, her blonde hair hastily tied behind her head and face pink, as if she'd began to cry and was struggling to conceal it. She'd come early that day, hoping to join her loved ones in their celebration. Instead, she came face to face with one as he hung, strung up from the clock hands. She'd nearly broken down at that point, touching a hand to his face. She quietly slipped inside, where the other students lay.

She doubted anything in her life could hurt as much as seeing them.

But how wrong she'd been.

Angela had stood watch at that door for the rest of the day and stopped other people from entering. She couldn't face people making the same mistake she'd made, she had to be the one to tell them.

She found out who they were looking for and gravely passed on the news, before recounting tales about them that Randall and Henry had once told her to ease their grief. Melina Whistler entered, desperate to see her wife. Angela told her a story about how Janice had entertained them all during a late night meeting. She let Tony Barde know about his sister's bravery when she'd come down with a disease, and the way she battled through it.

But there was nobody there to tell her about Randall, Henry and Dalston. She'd never know their final act of resistance on the top floor, nobody would. The only people who entered the shop were Brenda and Clark Triton. There was no way to tear the family away from their son, and no one dared disturb them.

It was getting to early afternoon when Angela saw the injured boy walking towards her, leaning against a girl for support, the distress was clear in his face as he looked round. Angela spoke gravely as she told him what had happened, unaware of who he was.

"I'm very sorry, none of them made it." She couldn't bear to look over at the clock tower, two soldiers worked to pull the body down.

Clive stood stunned as he listened, they were all dead. Every one of them. His grip on Flora's shoulder tightened as he felt himself almost thanked the woman at the door before whispering to Flora, his voice cracking.

"Do you know the Thames Arms?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The door creaked open as he entered alone, Flora had offered to accompany him but it felt wrong somehow, so she waited outside, ready to help if he had issues walking.

The scene in the pub was undisturbed, a relic of happier times. Flags and guns that had been missed in preparations were strewn across tables, and several mugs of beer were left on the side. He remembered the joy of that night, despite his grief at Flora leaving, he'd been caught up in the spirit of revolution.

He'd had so many good memories in this pub. Watching Janice perform songs she'd written, hearing tales of adventure from Randall. He'd had his first drink there, where he'd gotten kicked out after trying to start a fight with Dalston. But now, the place just made him miserable. He didn't know if they planned to reopen it, but it wasn't somewhere he planned to return to.

He had no clue what happened on the Barricade after he was hit. A bullet lodged in his arm, when he fell back he hit his head. He sat there, helpless as he watched some of his friends fall. But he was sure they were alive. They would win. How could they not. But seeing them there, lifeless. Hearing the things the people had said. He didn't know how he had outlived them.

A handful of bullet shells sat on the table.

Clive picked them up and rolled them between his fingers. A sad realisation came into his head. He thought about a little boy, climbing over the Barricade to fetch more.

If we'd had these, maybe Luke wouldn't have-

He stopped his thought, remembering him was too painful.

Remembering all of them was too painful.

He tried to move towards the exit, memories beginning to wash over him, drowning every part of him. He hadn't had time to grieve, his mind was focused on fighting. But he lingered on the thought forjust a moment too long.

Luke's frail body as the man carried him back, I should have stopped him.

He felt his legs buckle, just inches from the door.

Emmy's bloodied chest, she came back to help me

His breathing got heavier as he reached for a table to steady himself.

I watched them fall and couldn't do a thing to save them.

Clive's hand missed, his knees crashing into the floor

What happened to the others, why are they dead? Why aren't I dead?

He could almost see his friends around him, screaming, begging for help. Every shadow seemed like a soldier starting to advance. A bottle rolled to the floor and smashed, he jumped back and yelled as if were gunfire.

Flora came rushing in, hearing the noise of him collapsing, and helped to calm him. As soon as he was able, Clive stood up and stormed out the room.

He never wanted to see that place again.