I come to fight. Or at least, to listen.

chapter six

Chapter 6

~Understanding~

The rain persisted for a while. At least it hid Evelyn's crying, much to her comfort. The men sat idly around the first floor. Nobody dared to go up to the second. Enjolras tapped his fingers on the table with one hand, reading The Republic in another. He was disturbed from his reading when a man called out, "Don't shoot!" He clambered to the top of the barricade to meet the newcomer, an older man.

Les Ami's let him past the barricade, but surrounded him with guns and told him the story of Javert, expecting him to admit to his intended betrayal.

"Enemy marksman!" he shouted out and shot at the corner of the roof of the stable.

All the Ami's looked up and saw soldiers preparing to shoot. Every soldier was shot down and the Ami's suffered no casualties. Enjolras turned to the man, "Thank you, monsieur."

Valjean responded, "Give me no thanks, monsieur. There's something you can do."

"If it is in my power," Enjolras obliged.

"Give the spy Javert, let me take care of him."

"Do what you have to do. The man belongs to you," Enjolras handed him a pistol.

...

Enjolras could see that all the men were exhausted. The rain had stopped, and they were all gathered outside. "Courfeyrac, you take the watch, they may attack it's light. Everybody keep the faith, for certain as our banner flies, we are not alone. The people, too, must rise."

"Drink with me, to days gone by," Grantaire started it off.

"To the life that used to be. At the shrine of friendship, never say die. May the wine of friendship never run dry. Here's to you, and here's to me," The Ami's joined in. They all had a brotherly bond that Enjolras was proud to say he took part in. He smiled slightly as he reminisced about the memories from the early days of the goup.

The Amis spent the next few hours drinking, which Enjolras had no interest in. He gave in to his suddenly piqued sense of curiosity and checked on Evelyn.

...

Evelyn was a mess. Her hair had only partially dried from the rain, most of it had fallen out of the braid, and a chunk of it at the front was much shorter than the others, probably from when the glass hit her a few hours ago. A few hours ago, when Eponine was still breathing... for the hundredth time, Evelyn felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. Her eyes were red and puffy from all the tears. And more importantly, her spiritual self was shattered. Gone, for now, was the sensibility, all that remained was the intensity.

Evelyn heard someone step up the stairs. She rolled to the side opposite the entrance to the bar, hoping to shield herself from whatever shame would be coming towards her for her episode with Marius. But when she saw Enjolras's boots out of the corner of her eye, she stayed seated, but straightened her posture and stuck her chin up. She would not let him have the satisfaction of seeing her broken down.

He spoke to her first. "Mademoiselle," he said, with an almost gentle tone.

Evelyn said nothing, only whipped her head towards him and glared.

Enjolras was mildly startled by her appearance but cleared his throat and continued, "You were not wrong when you spoke to Marius."

Now Evelyn was surprised. Not that she thought she had been wrong, but she didn't expect Enjolras, a close friend of Marius, to side with her. She only blinked at his statement, for she had not the will nor the energy to do anything else. He continued, "The battle is not over yet, and we need you." Enjolras almost felt like "we need you" was a little mushy, but it was true. They needed all the force they could muster. "I understand how you feel-"

"That is where you are wrong, Enjolras. You don't," when Evelyn spoke it was a hoarse whisper.

Enjolras was annoyed at first, but quickly realized she was right. "Then explain it to me," Enjolras regretted it almost as soon as he said it. Well, it was better than being in a room with drunkards. He sat down on the wall opposite Evelyn. His legs didn't fit in the small space, and he had to bend them a little bit.

Evelyn looked at him and spoke without emotion, "If this is what I look like on the outside, how do you think I feel on the inside?" She was right. Her posture was now slumped more than anything, and her eyes drooped both with fatigue and tears. Where a smile, or at least a smirk, usually occupied, there was a small frown, her lower lip trembling a little. She was broken. It was so odd to Enjolras to see how one event could completely reverse a person.

Evelyn wasn't surprised by Enjolras's reactions or lack there of. He was the marble lover of liberty. Why should he been interested in a poor French woman's personal problems? The main reason Evelyn even answered him was because she wanted to gain some insight as to why he even bothered himself with her. He couldn't be mocking her, he would have taken that opportunity when he first walked up the steps... Her thoughts were interrupted by Enjolras, yet again.

"You should rest," He affirmed. Evelyn wanted so badly to defy him and spring up as if she had days of sleep, but she knew he was right. Sleep would clear her mind, at least enough so that she could attend to the wounded for the battle that would surely come tomorrow. But sleep with twenty seven boisterous college students a floor below her? Evelyn rather uncomfortable at the thought of it. Enjolras spoke as if he had read her mind, "I'll stand watch," Evelyn's face must've betrayed her thoughts or suspicion, for Enjolras clarified, "I mean, I'll sit at one of the tables and read The Republic." He tapped the volume he held in his right hand. Evelyn could've sworn he'd blushed a little

Evelyn complied and curled up in a little ball behind the bar.