AN: Exactly one week ago, I saw Les Miserables for the first time in my life and had my mind blow, and came to the conclusion that Enjy has THE most epic death scene that I have EVER had the privilege of witnessing live onstage. After spending the past week reading other peoples' Les Mis fics and looking at every Les Mis thing I can find on DeviantArt, as well as listening non-stop to the soundtrack, I have come to the conclusion that I ship Éponine and Enjolras.

So then I started thinking, "What if the fighting was already over by the time 'Ponine got back from delivering Marius' letter to Cosette? And what if Enjy still had a faint pulse when she found him? PLOT BUNNY!"

And thus, this story was born. I have already done a one-shot about Enjy's death called "The Fall of Enjolras," and the locations of his wounds and what he describes to 'Ponine about his thoughts and such as he was laying there wounded come from that, so if you've already seen that story, the things he says in here should be familiar. This is only the second thing I've written for Les Mis, and it's the first multi-chapter, so CC is highly welcome.

"Messieur Enjy?"

Enjorlas slowly opened his eyes. "Éponine?" he said quietly. "What happened?"
"Marius had me take a letter to his love, and by the time I got back to the barricade, the fighting was already over. You were the only one that showed any signs of life, so after I buried my brother, I brought you to the hospital. You've been out cold for..." She paused and counted on her fingers. "Almost a week, I think. Maybe a week and a half, I'm not entirely sure. I lost count after about the fifth day, to be honest."

He frowned in confusion. "Your brother?" he asked. She nodded. "Gavroche," she said. "Didn't he ever tell any of you that we were siblings?" Enjolras shook his head weakly. "No, he never mentioned that. Not to me, anyway. Probably to Grantaire, maybe to someone else, but not to me. He mostly only told me important news, our relationship wasn't on a very personal level. But he was..." He paused to catch his breath.

"He was a good kid," he continued. "Always did whatever favor we asked of him, was better at finding out the information and details we needed to know than anyone else...He was...He and Grantaire made quite the pair...They were always the life of our meetings, the two of them...I'm sorry I couldn't save him."

Éponine took his hand in both of hers. "It's not your fault," she said in a soft voice. Enjolras gazed at her pale, dirt smudged face in silence for a moment or two before something in his peripheral vision caught his eye. He tried to reach for it, but ended up grimacing in pain when he moved his arm even a fraction of an inch. Éponine brushed some stray hair out of his eyes and said, "You've got a bullet wound just below your right shoulder, so it's not surprising that moving that arm hurts."

He closed his eyes. "I remember..." He licked his cracked lips and drew in more breath. "I remember feeling a pang in that spot," he said. "It was...strange. Not like I expected it to feel." She furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked. He thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain it.

"It was...I felt it happen, but..." He shook his head. "What I didn't feel was any pain. I always imagined that getting shot would hurt like all hell, didn't. Not at first. The force of it knocked me off my feet, and when I let go of the flag to put my hand over the wound, it ended up underneath me, and...I was laying there on top of it just clutching at the wound thinking that it would bleed out and I would die that way."

He sighed. "But then...I started thinking that everything was my fault. That I'd been a blind fool and had led everyone to their deaths, so I started praying that they would be able to forgive me. By that point, the area around the wound was burning like crazy, but I ignored it and forced myself into a sitting position and started to sing. They shot me again-"

"Below the left ribs," she cut in. He nodded. "Yes. Below the left ribs." Again, he had to pause to catch his breath and moisten his lips. "It forced me down onto my elbows," he continued, his voice weaker than before and starting to sound raspy. "But I kept singing. And then I yelled, 'Viva les barricades!Viva le peuple!Viva la republique!Et viva la revolution!' And then I felt another pang and the force threw me onto my back again. I could feel blood coming out of the corner of my mouth. I remember whispering something...I wish I could remember what it was...But...then..."

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just...blackness."
"You should rest," Éponine said, resting her chin on the edge of the bed. She fingered the collar of his shirt, then gently pressed the tip of her index finger against the skin next to the bullet wound near his collarbone. "That was the third shot, wasn't it?" she asked. He nodded weakly, not bothering to open his eyes to look where she was pointing since he could feel where her finger was.

She pursed her lips and scrunched up her face. "It's so close to your throat," she whispered. "The doctor says that two more inches, and it would've killed you instantly. I saw Marius on the street today when I was on my way here. He's married now. To the girl I took that letter to. Her name is Cosette. He says her father died on the evening of the day they had their wedding. Do you know, Messieur Enjy, that I do believe I am a little in love with Messieur Marius. I wanted to be with him that night, so I disguised myself as a boy to get into the barricade. He sent me away with that letter, though."

"Good," Enjolras said, eyes still closed. "He probably saved your life by doing that. You two were close, weren't you? Still are, I suppose, since he survived. Do you know how he did? I thought you said that I was the only one-"

"You were," she interrupted. "I looked everywhere for him, but he wasn't there. It turns out that the man who killed the spy Javert was Cosette's father, and after Marius was shot, M. Fauchelavent carried him through the sewers to safety. When Marius woke up, he was being cared for by Cosette. Have you ever been in love, Messieur Enjy?"

"Once," he muttered. "With who?" she asked. She got no response. "Messieur Enjy?" She leaned closer to his face and whispered again, "Messieur Enjy?" But he was already asleep. She decided to leave him be and let him rest to regain his strength. In the meantime, she picked up the object he'd tried to reach for and brought it to her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

The torn red flag still smelled of gunsmoke and blood.

AN: I figured that since it's been a couple weeks or so since the insurrection, 'Ponine probably would have run into Marius on the street or something already by that point. Plus, I couldn't bear to just leave her and Enjy hanging as far as knowing whether he lived or died since she obviously wouldn't have found his body with the others at the barricade, so I decided to go ahead and take care of that part. DISCLAIMER TIME, KIDS! XD

Disclaimer: If I owned Les Mis, Éponine and Enjorlas wouldn't have died, Fantine would've gotten to see Cosette one more time before she died, Gavroche would've either been able to dodge those bullets or not get shot at in the first place, and Les Amis would've won the battle. So, since none of that stuff happened either in the Brick OR the musical, I obviously don't own anything. :(