Enjolras x Reader

Chapter 23

In the morning you were awoken by a nudge against your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered open and you realized it was Bahorel standing in front of you. "Your turn."  As you sat up, you felt a light weight on you that hadn't been there when you fell asleep; looking down you realized it was Enjolras' red coat. He must have draped it over you as you slept, the thought of that made your heart beat faster. He was sitting next to you in an upright position; his eyes were closed and his features relaxed. It was probably the only time you saw him truly look at ease. You neatly folded the coat and placed it on his lap and gently brushed one of his golden blonde locks behind his ear. 

You reached for the pistol in the holster on your belt and got into position. It was still early, the sun was still rising, so it was rather dim. You could faintly make out the sound of birds chirping. Most of the others were either still asleep or in the process of waking up. The sound of Bossuet's snoring filled the air (which was met with a kick in the side), as well as quiet chattering. It was peaceful, or rather, it would have been peaceful under different circumstances. 
You observed Gavroche and Courfeyrac talking. Courf seemed to tell him some kind of story, to which he responded with the kind of innocent, overt excitement only a child is capable of. It was a sweet sight, but you had to return to the task at hand. 

This would have been the perfect moment for the National Guard to attack; everyone was tired and likely not prepared for battle and the anticipation for something to happen left a good handful as nervous wrecks. It got you thinking if your father would be present during the next strike. If he went home last night, he would know that you were here. You wondered if he read your letter. 

Your train of thought was interrupted when you noticed someone come up beside you. It was the man who killed Javert. It was confusing, funny even; you knew what he did and yet you didn't feel threatened in his presence, on the contrary; something about him made you feel at ease. He looked at you for a moment before asking "How old are you?" 
"17," you told him. 
He smiled. "I have a daughter your age."
"What's her name?" 
"Cosette."  Your eyebrows shot up.
"You're Cosette's father?" 
"You know her?" 
"We were friends as children. The last time I saw her was when she left Montfermeil."
"That was you?" he asked rather shocked. He took a moment to compose himself before continuing. "(Y/N), vrai? She talked about you a lot when she was younger. Even now, sometimes." 

You smiled. She didn't forget you. 

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching the barricade. You took aim, but when you recognized the man, lowered your gun; it was a friend of Feuilly's, but you didn't know his name. He hastily clambered over the barricade and made a beeline towards Enjolras (who by now had woken up and put his coat on again). They spoke in hushed tones, but their faces betrayed a sense of urgency. 

Combeferre was the first to speak up "What's going on?"  Enjolras hesitantly turned to face you all. "We're the only ones left." 
"What?" Joly asked in disbelief. 
"The other barricades have all fallen. The last one has just been breached. We're the only ones left." 
With a heavy sigh, he stepped forward. "There is no doubt that we will be next. The people have not stirred. Let's not waste any more lives. I will not keep any of you here; you have families, mistresses, children. If you want to walk away, I won't stop you." 

You were looking around, as were the others. The desperation that had been in place just seconds earlier was wiped from their faces and instead replaced by a stubborn determination; you all were in this together and would finish what you started, even if it cost you your lives. Nobody moved a muscle, remaining steadfast in their spot. 
A small voice emerged from the group "À la volonté du peuple, et à la santé du progrès," other voices joined in "remplis ton cœur d'un vin rebelle et à demain, ami fidèle," in the end, everyone was singing "Nous voulons faire la lumière malgré le masque de la nuit pour illuminer notre terre et changer la vie." 

When the chanson concluded, Courf ruffled Gavroche's hair. "That's the spirit!" 

Joly relieved you from guard duty and you tried to mentally prepare yourself for the battle that was inevitably bound to happen. Now it was only ever a matter of time. 

With all the thoughts about certain death, you realized you hadn't seen Grantaire since last night. Did he leave? It sounded plausible enough; he confided in you about his love for Enjolras, just to, not only find out you lied to everyone about your identity for a good two years but also to see you so close to the man he held such strong affection for. 
This made you think: they were probably all angry with you, but didn't say anything because of the current circumstances.

Soon enough, the dreaded sound of marching footsteps echoed through the streets. You mounted the barricade and aimed your guns. "We need more ammunition," Feuilly said to Enjolras. You checked your revolver and, sure enough, you only had a handful of bullets left. It seemed the others didn't have more either. 

Combeferre suggested climbing over the barricade and taking cartridges from the dead National Guardsmen. "I volunteer!" Gavroche called out as he ran towards the barricade. You and Courfeyrac went after him. "Gavroche, what are you doing? Come back!" He ignored you and proceeded to climb over.
He was on the other side and pressed himself to the ground and crawled towards a dead body. "Gavroche!" Courf called out, but the boy ignored him, going from one body to the next and collecting their cartridge boxes.

He started singing to himself,
"On est laid à Nanterre,
C'est la faute à Voltaire;
Et bête à Palaiseau,
C'est la faute à Rousseau."
This garnered him the attention of the National Guard.

He moved on and pocketed more boxes, unbothered by the danger he was putting himself in.
"Je ne suis pas notaire,
C'est la faute à Voltaire;
Je suis un petit oiseau,
C'est la faute à Rousseau."
One of the artillerymen fired a shot at him, missing Gavroche by a hair.

He looked over his shoulder at you, smiling, then turned to the direction the shot was fired from and continued singing.
"Joie est mon caractère,
C'est la faute à Voltaire;
Misère est mon trousseau,
C'est la faute à Rousseau."

Then another shot; this one hit him in the right arm. He staggered back and fell, the whole barricade gave vent to a cry. You jumped up and tried to run to his side, but Marius grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back. You tried to wriggle away from him, but his grip on you tightened.  Meanwhile, it took both Bossuet and Bahorel to restrain Courfeyrac. 

You all yelled at Gavroche, begging him to come back, but he did not budge. He got back up and glared at the National Guard.
"Je suis tombé par terre,
C'est la faute à Voltaire;
Le nez dans le ruisseau,
C'est la faute à--"

Gavroche didn't get to finish his song; another shot was fired. He tumbled forward, his face hit the pavement and he moved no more.

Courf let out an agonizing scream and managed to break free from the others' grasp and you followed suit. You clambered over the barricade, hurrying over to where Gavroche lay and cradled him in your arms, tears streaming down your face.
Monsieur Fauchelevent placed a hand on your and Courfeyrac's shoulders, gently coaxing you to let go of the boy. You reluctantly obliged and he picked him up and carried him away from the impending battlefield.

You slowly looked up, just to see your father stare at you, eyes wide and mouth agape. Your breathing hitched. The world around you disappeared completely; it was just you and your father at that moment. You could practically already hear the questions and accusations; "What are you doing here? I told you to stay at home! You never listen! This is foolish and reckless!" The words were echoing in your mind as you observed his expression; his face held a mixture of anger, disbelief, disappointment, shock and... fear? Or perhaps sadness?

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, recollecting himself. His voice rang through the streets. "You at the barricade, listen to me," although he addressed everyone, his eyes remained fixated on you "No one is coming to help you! You stand no chance! This is not worth throwing your lives away for! Surrender, give up your guns or die!"

You looked to Enjolras. "If this is how it has to be, then let us die facing our foe. We have to do what we can to make them pay for every one of our fallen comrades! Let others rise to take our place until the earth is free!"

Your father closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. Then he resounded the command:

"Fire!"