Sorry for the shorter chapters. They're probably going to remain that way throughout the barricade scene. It seems they fit better with the story. Thank you for all of your follows/favorites/reviews! They are all met with genuine smiles and days-well-made. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 12

"Here," Combeferre thrust a long musket into the hands of a young boy without paying much attention, moving on to the next man who bore a cockade on his chest. If he had taken the time to glance at this newly made soldier, he would have realized that it was not a boy at all, but the small girl who frequented the ABC Café as often as the rest of them.

Eponine looked down at the gun in her hands. She was only one of dozens of young men brandishing weaponry and murmuring in excited undertones around the town square. She had adorned herself in Enjolras's masculine clothing so that she would go unnoticed among the streets. So far, it had been an effective plan.

The funeral procession was bound to begin any minute. Eponine looked around silently, watching as people lined the sides of the streets and made for last minute conversations before the big event. Everyone seemed so enthralled, so filled with anticipation. It seemed as if they had replaced the blood in their veins with adrenaline, blind to the ideas of death and violence. The musket in the girl's hands suddenly felt heavier.

Just then, a small boy ran across the street and wrestled his way between a sad looking Grantaire and a fierce looking Courfeyrac. He turned and stood up tall, straightening his cap over his stringy blonde hair and clutching a long gun to his chest. Eponine gasped.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded after racing across the road and grasping the boy by his shoulders.

"I'm part of the revolution," he said defiantly, pushing her clenched hands away.

"Of course you are, Gavroche, but not here. Not in the fight," Eponine had known that her brother shadowed the revolutionaries, running errands for them and worming his way into their conversations. They were kind and looked after him during the few instances where he could not fend for himself, but she never thought for a moment they would recruit him for this part of their plan.

She stood up and glared at Grantaire, who was standing warily beside them.

"What the hell?" she snapped, moving so that she was inches from his frightened face.

"He wanted to fight," the boy reasoned.

"So you just gave him a gun? He is a child!"

"Hey, I'm not-" Gavroche began, but his outraged sister cut him off quickly.

"He could die," she growled. Grantaire was carefully leaning away from the girl, attempting to distance himself from the gun he was very aware that she was carrying.

"I'm s-sorry," he stammered.

"Are you drunk?" Eponine asked, disbelieving. She could smell the faint trace of alcohol that seemed ever present on the young man's lips.

"I'm not drunk," he tried to say it confidently, but the words slipped through his mouth like a scared question.

"You are! You've been drinking! No wonder you were going to let Gavroche have a gun, you idiot!"

"I'm not drunk," the boy repeated quietly, averting his eyes.

"I can't believe you went drinking," Eponine laughed cynically. The boy stood silently, glaring at his opposite with chilling black eyes. The girl leaned down and wrapped her arms around the young blonde, pulling him towards her.

"Come on, Gavroche. Let's get you somewhere safe," she said softly. Just as she was heading back across the street, much to the dismay of the child, she turned and looked at the bristling brunette. "Of all days, Grantaire,"

That was it. The young man gritted his teeth and took a bold step towards the girl, eyes aflame despite their cloudy glaze.

"Especially today!" he shouted. Eponine froze. "You're so worried that he's going to die in the battle, but I'm certain that I will! I have no chance of living and no reason to, either. Today I will fall. For France, for him, I don't know. Neither will care once I do. But I will fall. I think I'm allowed to ease the pain at my will,"

Eponine could not find words. She merely stood, arms still wrapped around her brother and forest brown eyes set like stone on the angry man. After a long pause, she gave him a small nod and backed away. Today would be the end for many. Though it pained her to picture one of her only friends being shot dead, she knew she had to accept that she could not protect everyone. This was the future. It was her duty to make sure that her brother did not hold the same.

Grantaire watched as she went, black curls rustling in the June breeze. Courfeyrac put a light hand on his shoulder, but the man did not take his cold eyes off of the pair of siblings until they were lost completely in the crowds. He wondered what it would be like to be protected by someone who loved you. He wondered what it would be like to have someone who loved you at all.