Enjolras stood defiantly in front of the soldiers, staring unflinchingly down the barrels of their guns. He did not fear death. Especially not when it was for such a worthy cause. But the Frenchman couldn't help but feel that something was off.
He wasn't sure what, exactly, but something was missing. Enjolras glanced beside him, half expecting to see someone there. Expecting to see one of his friends, one of his fellow revolutionaries, still alive and ready to fight. Perhaps Courfeyrac or Combeferre, the two he called his brothers, the Centre or the Guide? But they were both dead, and the space beside him remained empty. The one they had named Apollo was the only who clung to life.
Enjolras looked up, staring into the eyes of the youngest soldier as the revolutionary tightened his grip on his red flag. The man couldn't have been much younger than Enjolras, and his eyes were troubled and afraid. But he still prepared to fire.
The man of gold and scarlet did not flinch as the guns went off and the soldiers recoiled. He only bowed his head in death.
And the space beside him remained empty.
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Ancient Kinds of Sadness (Les Mis & Doctor Who Crossover)
Fanfiction"Who are you?" "A drunkard." "Don't lie to me." "...an artist. An artist who loved a god." ---------- When the Doctor finds a Frenchman in the year 1832, he never expected that he would be taking a famous revolutionary to his death. [Enjoltaire] [El...
