Colour of Desire {Enjonine}

Chapter 38

*Eponines POV*

I was surprised when Enjolras told the driver to return to Paris. I knew that he had been planning a surprise, but I didn't know what it was.

"Why Paris?" I asked. Enjolras just took my hand in his, but said nothing. In the silence hat followed, I allowed my mind to wander back to the wedding party. Surely by now they would have noticed our absence. Would he party continue, or would they all go home? What would Madame do? Would she follow us and demand for us to return?

I started to remove the heavy veil off my head, placing it on the seat next to me. Gavroche had already removed his jacket and had put his old blue one back on. I was surprised he still had it, considering he wore it at the barricade last year. But he really did like that coat. Mama had given it to him a few years ago. It had been to big then, but he grew into it over time.

At last the familiar streets of Paris began to appear again. Enjolras asked the driver to stop, somewhere near the old Bastille.

"What's going on?" I asked. I had almost expected us to go home, but clearly I was wrong.

"We're getting out now. We have to walk the rest." He replied.

The driver came around and opened the carriage door, helping us all to climb out. The other carriage holding our friends had stopped too and it's passengers were standing there patiently waiting for us.

"Come on, Apollo. You're holding us all up." Marius said.

"Leave me alone. It's not easy to get out of here with a cane." Enjolras replied. When we were all out, the two carriages went away again and we were left facing the old prison.

"One year ago we ran along these roads, shouting our beliefs of the revolution." Joly said quietly.

"Come on. I expect they'll have started by now." Enjolras said. We began to walk along the road once more, the same one we ran through last year, Marius in the lead, red flag in hand. It was hard to believe hat it was only a year ago.

"Where are we going?" Cosette asked.

"To the café." Marius replied. I looked at Enjolras for an explanation.

"The people have invited us. We are the only survivors of that day and they wanted us to come and remember those who fell." He said.

"So you left the wedding to be here with them today?" I said.

"Of course. These people believed in us. They wanted change and we gave them the hope that change could happen." Enjolras explained. We rounded the corner and found ourselves standing before the Café Musain. We weren't the only ones, either. It seemed that all of Paris had come to remember those who had fallen at the barricades last year.

The café had barely recovered from the revolution. The windows and the furniture had been replaced, but the old sign was still there, pierced with bullets and covered in old, faded blood. The crowd parted when they saw us, letting us walk through. What I saw brought tears to my eyes.

In front of the café was hundreds of candles, and more were being placed every second. Joly handed Enjolras the framed register.

"Monsiour Enjolras, thank you so much for coming." One of the men said.

"I had to come, Jaques. They were my best friends. I know your brother was here, was he not?" Enjolras said.

"Yes, Monsiour. Jehan spoke so proudly of the revolution. He was sure he would make us all free." The man said, tears glistening in his eyes.

"Jehan was a great man. He died at the summit of the barricade, fighting two guards at once. He was incredibly brave. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Monsiour, thank you." Jaques said. More people came up to us, each one bringing stories of the fallen. At last, everyone stood back from the candles and faced the café. A man stood there in front of the crowd. He was clearly well respected among the people, as they hung on to every word he then spoke,

"On this day, June sixth, one year ago, our friends and family fell at the hands of the National Guard. We came here to the site of their death to remember and honor their deaths. They were brave men who fought for our freedom. They died in hope that we would be free and, although they failed, they sparked our hearts and minds to do so again. One day, another revolution will begin and we will be there to fight for our land. The ABC society fell, but we, the people of France live on to revolt again." He said. His voice seemed to lift the peoples spirits. I didn't understand this man. He acted as if a revolution is something that just springs out of the ground without a sense of planning. He clearly had no idea of the pain and heartbreak and fear that came with a fight for freedom, yet here he stood, suggesting we try again, only a year after our friends died for us.

"Standing with us on this night are the only survivors of last years rebellion. The only men who survived to see a new tomorrow." The man continued. He threw his hand towards our group. "Please, come forward."

The five of us walked slowly through the crowd, leaving my grandfather where he was with Cosette and Musichetta.

"We thank you all for fighting for our freedom. It couldn't have been easy for you." The man said to us.

"It wasn't, believe me." Gavroche said, before we hushed him.

"Monsiour Enjolras, would you be willing to say a few words?" Someone asked from the crowd.

"Please, Monsiour, we want to know your story." Said another.

My husband looked around at the faces in front of him,the women who held tear stained handkerchiefs, the tiny children rubbing the sleep from their eyes,the men strong enough to carry a horse. Each face expectant and almost pleading, as if they wanted to hear condolences from the only survivors of that dreadful day.

"I don't know..." He said uncertainly.

"Darling, you must. These people need to know about what happened." I said.

"What will I say? I have nothing prepared."

"Enjolras, you're a well spoken man. You gave countless speeches  last year, so you can do it again." Marius said.

"Just tell them everything. Tell them about our friends, the brave men of the revolution. Don't leave out any details. Let them see their friends faces one more time, even if it just a memory." I said softly.

"Monsiour?" The man asked. "Are you going to speak?"

Enjolras took one more look around and finally faced the people once more.

"Very well." He said. "I'll tell you our story. The story of the bravest men I shall ever know."