The Darkest Night Will End

Saint Michelle, Paris, July 19th, 1831

Saint Michelle, Paris, July 19, 1831

Grantaire stood at the back of the crowd, sneaking sips from a flask he'd hidden away in his coat pockets as Enjolras spoke out to the group that had amassed.

Grantaire had found that it was the rallies held by the ABC that he could best admire him from afar.

He took in the sight, Enjolras with passion in his eyes, Jacquelyn waiting with their speech, looking up at Enjolras in awe. He hoped to commit it all to memory, so that he may paint it later.

Jacquelyn stood near the side of the makeshift stage, wondering if they would actually be given the time to give their speech. They peeked over Combeferre's shoulder as he checked the time, seeing that there were only a few more minutes of the rally left.

Enjolras' speech seemed to be making its way to a close, but it was doubtful he'd finish quickly enough.

Courfeyrac turned to them, "I don't think he's going to stop in time Jack, I'm sorry."

They frowned, glanced up at Enjolras and then back at Courfeyrac, "I worked my ass off writing this thing, no chance he goes and messes it up."

Then before any of the amis could stop them they darted around the back of the stage and climbed up next to him.

Enjolras looked over at them with a glare but kept talking, "And so we must change this system!"

Hearing the lull in his speech Jacquelyn stepped forward, "It is your duty as citizens of this country to improve and make change! We must make things better for the generations to come! We can make a world where no one will go hungry!"

Enjolras found himself standing to the side of the stage watching as Jacquelyn captivated the crowd in a way he never really had. He turned to look at the crowd to find Grantaire watching intently, and vaguely wondered if he ever listened that intently to him, until he heard the shrill sound of the whistle of Bahorel signalling the national guards approached.

"National guard! Scatter!" Bossuet yelled.

People began to run in every direction as the sound of the national guards horses approaching. Jacquelyn was pushed off the stage and lost sight of the other Amis in the chaos.

Both Grantaire and Enjolras immediately started fighting their way through the crowd towards the stage and where they had seen Jacquelyn fall.

They had climbed off the ground and was rubbing at the back of their head when they reached them.

"Come on!"

"We've gotta go!"

Enjolras and Grantaire each seized one of their arms and took off running.

Halfway out of the square they wrenched their arms back, "I can run for myself."

When they had reached the Cafe they found everyone else waiting, seemingly fine except for Bossuet whom Joly was fretting over a miniscule cut on his arm. Everyone immediately started going about comparing notes about the rally.

"You my friend," Feuilly said, swinging an arm around Jacquelyn's shoulders, "Really should give the speeches more."

"Thank F." They smiled.

"He's right, they loved you." Bahorel said.

"Don't tell anyone," Jehan stage whispered, "But your speech was better than any of Enjolras' by far. You're definitely the better writer."

Enjolras glared at all of them as Courfeyrac said, "They are right Enj, we should have her do speeches more, or at least write yours."

He sighed, "Well, since we've had such a productive day why don't we all head home early."