A New Beginning

I don't own Les Miserables

It was quiet. Too quiet. Enjolras opened his eyes and then snapped them shut again. Why was it so bright? He slowly opened his eyes again, blinking against the harsh light. As his eyes adjusted he realized he was staring up at the ceiling of the Café Musain. What had happened? Why was it so quiet?

Suddenly, the memories of the day hit him. Eponine taking a bullet for Marius, Gavroche climbing over the barricade to retrieve ammunition and not coming back flashed before his eyes. He remembered Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Joly standing behind him one minute and the next they were on the ground staring up at him with unseeing eyes. Enjolras thought of Grantaire... oh Grantaire. He didn't even believe in the revolution and yet he died for it. He could have remained hidden, but instead he stood alongside Enjolras as they defied the National Guard.

Enjolras stood slowly and looked around him. The Café looked exactly as he remembered it before the battle. Tables and chairs were neat and orderly, not knocked over and turned to splinters as they had been only moments ago. Enjolras looked down at himself where the eight bullets had struck his chest. But there was nothing there. His shirt and red jacket were intact, not a thread out of place. He stumbled towards the stairs, determined to find out what was going on. However, before he could go anywhere, two people had rushed upstairs.

"Enjolras!" Combeferre cried in relief. The philosophical student walked forward and embraced the revolutionary leader.

"You're alright," Enjolras said.

"It seems that way," the man who had come up the stairs with Combeferre said and Enjolras pulled away from his friend to look at the other boy.

"Grantaire," he said and walked forward to wrap his arms around his friend.

"I'm flattered Enjolras," Grantaire said, "I've never known you to be so affectionate." Enjolras released his friend and flashed him one of his rare smiles. However, his smile soon fell as he looked at his friends.

"What did you mean 'it seems that way'?" Enjolras asked.

"We all remember getting shot," Combeferre told him, "And yet we are all unharmed."

"So, we are dead and yet, we're still here?" Enjolras questioned, hating how confused he felt.

"Apparently," Grantaire said, taking a swig from the whisky bottle he had found.

"Is anyone else here?" Enjolras questioned.

"Everyone," Combeferre told him, "Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Joly, Jehan, Bossuet, Bahorel, Gavroche, Marius' shadow Eponine, and all the others."

"What of Marius himself?" Enjolras asked.

"We have not seen him," Combeferre said, "Joly mentioned seeing the old volunteer carry him off so we think he may still be alive."

"Good," Enjolras nodded, "Now he can go be with that woman he wouldn't stop going on about."

"Come, we should go down to the others," Combeferre said, clapping Enjolras on the back.

"Yes alright," Enjolras nodded again, "But first, Combeferre could you give Grantaire and I a moment?" Combeferre looked between them for a moment before nodding and heading down the stairs alone. Enjolras waited until his friend was out of sight before turning to Grantaire. The drunkard wasn't looking at him, but rather he was closely examining the bottle in his had.

"Grantaire," Enjolras said, but the other man didn't respond, "Grantaire why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Grantaire asked, still not making eye contact with the other man. Enjolras didn't like this side of his friend. Where was the sarcastic, nihilist drunk he was so used to seeing?