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

chapter 8

Chapter 8

~Fallen~

It was faint, but it was there. Adrenaline coursed through her veins again, she was re-filled with energy. Evelyn checked his pulse on his neck. Still a pulse. Evelyn laughed in disbelief. The man just won't die.

She started taking off his scarlet coat. Blood soaked through his shirt and seeped under the vest. Evelyn gulped. The Republic was tucked into the pocket of his coat, miraculously escaping with only a small blood stain on the cover.

In ordinary circumstances, she would have felt extremely awkward removing a young man's shirt. However these were not ordinary circumstances. She peeled off each garment until his chest was bare. It would be a lie to say he wasn't toned.

Evelyn's familiar look of determination swept her face. She couldn't let a handsome man distract her from her patient.

He had three bullet holes: One through the bicep, another through the right shoulder, and the last just above his left hip. These soldiers are the worst shots I have ever seen. The bicep and shoulder ones would be easy enough, but the hip one scared her; it had the highest chance of hitting a vital organ. She let out a deep breath and hobbled over to the table with all the medical supplies on it, conveniently placed across the room.

When she returned with bandages, the basket of herbs, and disinfectant, Enjolras had just began to stir. He opened his eyes and moved his head around a bit. Evelyn knelt next to him, "Enjolras? Enjolras, can you hear me?" It came out a little harsher than she intended it to be. He just looked around the room, confused. She dug around in the basket, but didn't recognize anything. Merde.

Well, she needed to do something fast, because he was really bleeding. She dipped a pad of gauze in antiseptic and began.

...

Evelyn ran into an obstacle at the hip wound. She couldn't find an exit hole. Having to dig around to find the bullet was something she never wanted to re-live. Enjolras's screams of anguish rang in her ears long after he passed out. Evelyn thought she had killed him. She finally fished the bullet out and closed the wound, breathing a heavy sigh. She ran her hands on her skirt to wipe them of some blood and relaxed for a few minutes.

She checked his legs: just a few scratches. Nothing a little antiseptic couldn't fix. Having to take off his pants and put them back on made Evelyn uncomfortable. At least it was comfort knowing he didn't feel for her romantically.

Evelyn tended to her own wounds now. She scooted back so that she could rest her back against the wall, but still keep an eye on Enjolras. She slipped her sleeve off her left shoulder and gritted her teeth in pain. She couldn't move it, either. At least she found an exit wound. Evelyn just sanitized it and wrapped a bandage around, she couldn't have stitched behind her.

Now for her thigh. She lifted her skirt again. The wound had opened a little more and was bleeding again, thanks to stretching it around when she was fixing up Enjolras. It would definitely require stitches. She sucked in air when the needle first pierced her flesh. Tunnel vision constantly impaired her ability, and her body was so shaky, she only managed to put in half the stitches she wanted to.

...

It was twilight now. Evelyn had moved herself and dragged Enjolras to the little nook behind the bar (if somebody was coming up the stairs, she wanted hide or at least have enough heads up to get a pistol ready). She lit a single candle, which only provided enough light in her vicinity- the corpses of les Amis disturbed her.

Evelyn sat cross-legged, cradling Enjolras's head in her lap. She cleansed the gash on his forehead. When she first touched it, his face twitched, showing he was at least alive. She continued to gently pad it in an attempt to not disturb him. It seemed to be working for the time being. The blood ran into his hairline, and his blond curls were coated with a fine dust and matted. He was a sorry sight, all bandaged up and dirty. He was the leader for the revolution, and like the revolution, he had fallen. A twinge of sadness hit Evelyn.

She lied down next to Enjolras, his face inches away from hers, and closed her eyes.

...

Evelyn didn't sleep well. Enjolras was just as restless injured as healthy, and added little whimpers in. At least it alerted Evelyn to that fact that he was burning up. They didn't have any water, so she took off his coat and boots. Evelyn also had to replace the bandages twice and re-stitch his arm. She was happy about none of this, and behind her eyes burned.

A few hours into morning, she heard footsteps come up the stairs. She curled up behind the bar, hoping nobody would see her. Enjolras was out cold, so the only noise that the intruder could notice would come from her.

From their voices, Evelyn could tell they were men. They stopped where the dead bodies laid. The newcomers lifted their bodies, and one by one, removed them from the battle-stricken cafe. Evelyn felt hot tears roll down her cheeks. She wiped them away immediately.

She waited a few minutes until after they had come for the final time before she breathed again. Enjolras stirred. She called his name quietly. No response. His fever still hadn't broken, sweat plastered his head to his forehead. Evelyn could feel herself getting warmer, too. Merde! Fever was a sign of infection, which added to their wounds would end in disaster unless they got help. She tried to stand up, but her leg buckled under her. She hated being helpless. She dug into Enjolras's coat's pockets and read The Republic.

...

Evelyn sat in quiet for hours until she heard footsteps again. She instinctually shrank against the bar.

The mystery person sat in a chair at the other end of the floor. Evelyn waited.

"There's a grief that can't be spoken," it was Marius. Of all the people... "There's pain goes on and on. Empty chairs at empty tables, now my friends are dead and gone."

No they aren't... Evelyn jumped up, "Marius!" She leaned on the bar for support. He was wearing fresh clothes and his left arm was in a sling. Damn him.

Needless to say he was shocked. "I have Enjolras!" she explained. Had she been alone, she would have been too proud to ask him of a favor, but Enjolras was going to die if he didn't get adequate attention. Marius's eyes widened further. He rushed over to them and knelt at his friend's body. He probably found it strange that he was shirtless, but Evelyn decided to be positive and believe that things could be worse. Anyways, her actions were completely justified.

"Cosette!" Marius yelled. Evelyn heard dainty footsteps scale the stairs. Marius spoke to the girl, asking her to get Joly and a servant. Joly's alive too? Maybe Enjolras wouldn't be last Ami standing, after all. Marius asked her what happened, so she explained the events of last night. She didn't go into complete detail, of course, but she gave him the basics of Enjolras's injuries, and his injuries only. She could manage her self, she could just place herself in a hospital nearby.

Joly arrived and interrogated Evelyn while examining Enjolras.

"And what about yourself, mademoiselle?" he had asked.

"Nothing serious," she responded, "just a cut on my leg." Joly nodded. He finished examining Enjolras, which consisted of taking off the bandages and exposing the wounds. Evelyn winced.

"This is a miracle," he said, astounded.

"I know," said Evelyn, "Those soldiers were terrible shots, weren't they?"

Joly looked at her in disbelief and let out a small laugh, "No mademoiselle, their shoddy firing skills isn't why he's alive. It's you." Marius and Joly carried Enjolras's large frame down the stairs, leaving Evelyn speechless.

She didn't want to let up the real severity of the injury, so she stood up, biting her lip as she put the minimum pressure on her bad leg. She made sure not to forget The Republic and Enjolras's coat.