The Night That Ends At Last *Les Miserables Romance (Enjolras)*

Epilogue - Part II: A Victor's Soliloquy

Epilogue – Part II – A Victor’s Soliloquy 

 Now you are here,

Again beside me…

Now I can die in peace,

For now my life is blessed…

~~**~~ 

Paris, France. February 1848

16 Years Later

 The man who sat alone in his armchair was neither old nor young. If his wounds were gone he would have been young, but you cannot erase those. His speckled dark hair had grown longer than he would have liked, his skin was rough and course from years of resistance, his blue eyes had faded and sunken into his face. He was once handsome. But the fighting and damage he had done had worn that away. He appeared double the thirty-six years he was. 

He was alone for single reason; he decided to be. The small room was too crowded with more than one person. It wasn’t a nice place to be dying; with a single window casting light from above and illuminating the dust, however he could hear the people outside cheering his name and their loud prayers for his health to return to him could be heard through the walls. There was also a distant sound of drums, coming from somewhere in the street.

Not so long ago he had sent away the doctors that tried to help him and the servants that asked him useless questions.

Is there anything we can do?

Is there anything we can bring you?

M’sieur, is there anyone you want to see before you…? He had only laughed and shooed them away with a wave of his hand. To be truthful, there wasn’t really anyone he wanted to see in life at this moment, but the people he was going to see. Yes. This man was dying, but he was strangely happy. He had wanted this a long time ago. It seemed like ages away; the time before the success of his revolution, the time when he was young and happy. Before he was shot. His wounds covered his upper torso, not close to anything vital, but enough to kill. It wasn’t too painful, but the leader knew he was dying, and he was thankful for it. “Not too long now…” He grumbled to himself. “I hope…” There was a knock on the door. He let his eyes go to it, burning holes into the wood. Why can't I just die in peace?

“M’sieur Accord?” the voice spoke through it. The man sank further into his armchair with a sigh.

“Come in Jacques.” He rasped. A young man burst through the door. He was several years younger than Accord, still looked youthful and healthy. 

“When I heard what had happened I came here as quickly as I could! Pontmercy told me you sent him and the doctors away, why would you do that?” Jacques stammered, taking his tall hat off of his chestnut curls and running to his friend’s side, kneeling by his knees. “Is there anything I can do?” Accord scowled as the question was, yet again, repeated to him.

“No lieutenant, it's simple enough as it is. I am dying.” He softened his voice and his comrade placed a kind hand on his own. “There is nothing I want. My duty and my…vow are complete.” Jacques did not understand.

“But Accord! You have not left a will?”

“Ah, what is there to give?”  The leader laughed painfully. “I suppose…give everything I’ve earned to the benefit of," He coughed painfully,  "-the country.” Jacques’ face went grave. 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” He coughed and he chest ached. The young man smiled and took Accord’s hand.