9
"Enjolras!" Joly called from in front of the tavern. He was wiping fresh blood from his hands on a rag that looked suspiciously like his cravat but his expression was one of hope.
Turning quickly, his blonde waves swishing about his face like a lion's mane, Enjolras' hand slipped from the stranger's shoulder. He seemed to have momentarily forgotten anything in the world but Joly. At the sight of the blood on the rag and on Joly's once white sleeves, his heart fell into his stomach, but his spirits lifted at the sight of the smile on the medical student's face. He made two steps towards the Café before stopping and turning back with a curt chuckle.
"Forgive me, monsieur. I am forgetting my manners," Enjolras said when he was again facing the old man. He bowed his head respectfully before continuing. "I will give you the traitor Javert."
Enjolras motioned for the man to follow him into the Café before resuming his nervous walk to the now empty doorway. Joly had not lingered for too long; there was still work to be done and blood to be cleaned. The man followed without a word, his eyes darting to faces of the gathered men as though looking for someone he knew. Is he perhaps someone's father?
There was the report of a single gunshot in the alleyway behind the Café Musain. Enjolras closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks, waves of relief lapping at the weary shore of his mind. He shut his eyes briefly and rested his head against the broken door behind which he was standing at the top of the barricade. The stranger had saved him from the snipers and from killing the spy. As strange as it may sound, Enjolras was not fond of killing. It was merely out of necessity and desire to see a new sun rise on the horizon of Tomorrow that he raised his pistol at the enemy, and shooting Javert would have ripped his conscience horribly.
Opening his eyes once more, Enjolras stared into the abyss that was the Rue de la Chanverrerie. His gaze swept over the soldiers who had fallen in the no man's land beyond the barricade, over the pools of blood beneath their cold corpses, and in the face of every dead man he saw Éponine. Was that the pain of the stiches which Joly had administered, or was it the aching in his heart which caused him to grimace?
When he had taken the kind stranger into the tavern to retrieve Javert, Joly had explained to him what he had done to Éponine. Enjolras had done his best keep his eyes trained on Joly's as he spoke, but he could not help but steal fearful glances across the room to the sleeping girl. The description of the operation which Joly had given him ran through his tired mind once more.
Éponine was lying on the bar the way that Enjolras and Marius had left her, but Joly had been thoughtful enough to use her tan overcoat as a pillow to make her as comfortable as possible. The medical student had also cut a large hole into the left shoulder of her oversized shirt, revealing her delicately emaciated collar bone and the angry wound just below it. Enjolras tried to keep his gaze fixed on the hole but it kept traveling to her face, hoping she would open her eyes.
"I have cauterized her wounds," Joly explained. When he spoke of his medical responsibilities, his tone became sober and commanding and he seemed to age ten years. The characteristic smile which Joly always wore was also put away.
Enjolras moved closer to the bar and inspected the girl. Sure enough, the side of her left hand, which before was hidden beneath a layer of thick red blood, was now a throbbing red welt. Through the burn Enjolras could see where the bullet had bitten off a crescent of flesh from the outside of Éponine's hand. He raised his eyes questioningly to Joly who nodded understandingly.
"She should be able to use her hand once he has made a full recovery, although it will most likely cause her severe pain to bend her little finger."
He thanked his friend and backed away from the bar. Enjolras kept his eyes glued to the stitches and the burn on Éponine's chest, the gravity of the wound making turning away difficult. After a few moments he noticed the rise and fall of her chest and his anxiety was put to rest. There was still hope. Ordering Joly to take the first watch in the Café, Enjolras turned around and made his way outside.
Enjolras began to pace quietly. He had taken the first watch of the evening out of guilt and a sense of fierce pride. It was close to ten o'clock in the evening and the men of the barricade had taken to trying to rest, to nurture their sore muscles and aching wounds. He tried to keep his footsteps as hushed as possible so as not to disturb his friends in their precious moments of respite.
Continuing in this way for a half an hour, Enjolras succeeded in lulling his racing thoughts into a calm and manageable pace to match his footfalls. Lost in his reverie, Enjolras was unaware of the shift in the emotions and activities of those he was protecting. Silent, lazy napping became a somber celebration of life. It was Grantaire's voice, no longer slurring rude remarks but instead carrying a tune, which roused him from his thoughts.
"Drink with me to days gone by!" sang Grantaire, lifting his newly opened bottle of wine. Gavroche took the bottle in his small, grimy hands and took an avid gulp of its contents.
"To the life that used to be," the two sang in unison. Grantaire put an arm affectionately around the gamin as they continued their song. Soon the rest of the men joined in and Enjolras smiled down upon them, his blue eyes dull. He sang along in a whisper. Les Amis celebrated life until the clocks chimed eleven in the evening.
Joly sat down in the only remaining chair in the Café, exhausted. So much had happened in the one twenty four hour period, and the flood of information left his quick brain sluggishly trying to process it all. Joly took a deep and shaky breath, rubbing his temples as he closed his eyes and stretched his weary limbs. The creaking of the old chair caused his charge to stir in her slumber. That she was responsive to anything was a promising sign and Joly's heart flopped in his chest, proud. Éponine's fluttering eyelids ceased their movement after only a few fruitless seconds and he reached out to feel her pulse, the momentary pride replaced by anxiety.
"You're doing much better, ma chère," he said softly. Éponine's pulse danced lightly gainst his fingertips, but it was much stronger and more stable than it had been an hour before. Joly's chest swelled with satisfaction and he removed his hand from her wrist, ruffling his mousy hair in contentment.
"May I tell you a secret while we are here, mademoiselle?"
Joly received no reply and he chuckled softly at his attempt at sickbed humour. He took an unnecessary glance over his shoulder to survey the lonely room before continuing with his confession.
"You were my first live subject! And you're still alive!" Joly's excitement and pride overcame his weariness and he clapped his hands together in a burst of energy and glee.
The loud bang of the gunshot from the alley cut across the noise of Joly's clapping and excited babbling. The reality of the noise, and what it meant for the spy Javert, filled the room as though a rain cloud had drifted in through the broken window. Joly's youthful smile fell away and his cheeks, rosy from happiness, lost all colour. Éponine jerked in her sleep, instinctively shying away from the sound she already associated with the pain of the day's events. Her eyes remained close but her pulse quickened briefly.
"We're all just school boys, 'Ponine," Joly said quietly, his eyes darting nervously towards the window that looked into the start of the alleyway. He used her nickname freely, as though they were close confidantes. Those who stare Death in the face become bosom friends; it is the only favour He gives you before you know no more. Tears began to swim in Joly's eyes.
"We were school boys who, only hours ago, had never held a gun… and now look at us. Look at you."
Joly breathed in deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, repeating the motions like a silent mantra, calming his nerves. His tears began to evaporate and his heart slowed considerably.
He thought of Musichetta, his beautiful grisette. A tear ran down his cheek and Joly wiped at it furiously with the heel of his hand, embarrassed. Éponine was unaware, perhaps that he was even sitting there.
"I know what it's like to love, you know. I know how it feels to be uncertain of another and yet give them your heart regardless," he said. Joly paused and placed his hand over the girl's uninjured one companionably. "What you feel for Marius… what Enjolras is beginning to feel for you. Éponine, choose wisely."
He opened his mouth to tell the girl about how he knew what it was like to make all the wrong choices in love, but was startled into silence by the sound of the door of the Café opening. Joly spun around in his chair quickly, his floppy brown hair skidding out of place. He smiled, completely unsurprised when he saw Enjolras standing hesitantly at the entrance, his hand still on the doorknob.
"Is it that time already?" Joly asked with a goofy smile. He stood and offered the chair to his leader in kindly mocking reverence. "I was just beginning to enjoy having a captive audience."
"Thank you for all you have done, Joly," said Enjolras as he crossed the barroom, still favouring his left leg. Joly's smile merely widened to include all of his teeth. He left the Café without another word, glad to be able to find a place to curl up and dream of his Musichetta.
Enjolras sat down carefully, stretching his injured leg out straight and grabbing the back of the wobbly chair for support. He groaned on the way down to a sitting position, a distance which had seemed to increase exponentially since the last time he had made the journey earlier in the day. The noise of the chair coupled with Enjolras' grunt caused Éponine to stir once more. His breath caught in his throat and, leaning as far forward as his leg would permit, Enjolras sat with his face close to the gamine, monitoring her breathing and the movement of her eyelids.
She inhaled sharply, as though taking the first breath of air after almost drowning, and her brown eyes opened with difficulty. Her eyelids were made of lead and it took all of her strength to will them up. Once she had accomplished this Herculean feat, Éponine blinked slowly and with great effort in an attempt at clearing the fuzziness at the edges of her vision.
"M-Monsieur Enjolras?" she whispered, her voice even more husky than usual. At the sound of his name Enjolras' heart beat wildly in his chest. She did not ask for Pontmercy.
"I'm here, 'Ponine," he replied gently, touching her arm in physical affirmation. Éponine turned her head cautiously, afraid of experiencing any unnecessary and added pain. She fixed her drowsy eyes on his and smiled faintly.
Éponine tried to reach for Enjolras' hand where it rested on her arm, but the movement jarred the wound in her shoulder and she cried out agony. The searing pain caused her vision to go white and she gritted her teeth, fighting against slipping back under. It had taken her so very long to swim to the surface and Éponine was afraid of drowning if she fell back in. However, the fight was all in vain and her eyes rolled back in her head; Éponine had fainted.
Enjolras sighed, removing his hand from her arm and pressing it against his aching forehead. It was going to be a long night, and an even longer morning. The bells of a nearby church called out midnight.
"Hushaby, dear Éponine," he whispered, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair.
His thoughts were racing once more, but no longer were they on the revolution, the lack of ammunition, the damaged gunpowder, or the inevitable death of his friends. Enjolras was replaying every moment he had spent with the gamine, willing her to be well again, and wondering confusedly what it all meant. This will be a long night indeed.
A/N: Sorry this took so long, oh my God! I just couldn't figure out what to write for the life of me, and then I had no idea how to end it and ugh. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Only a few more chapters of the revolution, guys. Dun dun dun. I'm thinking of breaking up Chapter 10 into multiple parts, 'cause it may end up being extremely long but all about the same thing. I dunno though, give me your opinions on that. Anyway! Hope you like this one, sorry it isn't super mega awesome or anything. But it's getting to the good stuff kinda. Enjolras is gonna have a revelation! Read/review/etc., lovelies. 'Night!
P.S. I found out I got into college, SCORE.