Chapter Text
For certain as our banner flies, we are not alone, the people too, must rise.
He had been so sure, so damn sure. For his faith was unwavering and his love for his country unparalleled. The citizens of France would come to the call. The citizens of France would cast aside their fear, their doubts. The citizens of France would rise out of the barricades and welcome in a new dawn.
But he had been wrong. So very, very wrong.
As Enjolras stood there, facing down a pack of at least a dozen men, he felt no fear. No, the only thing that he felt, the only emotion left in him was shame. Burning shame consumed his entire being, and as he looked down the barrels of twelve different muskets, the only option left was to think back to every action that had led him to this moment.
Going so far as to even think about his childhood in Grenoble, Enjolras thought of his family, if they even were to be called his family anymore. Blood relatives with whom all contact was severed might be a more fitting description. They had liked him well enough in his childhood, as much as is to be expected from distant and wealthy individuals. Enjolras was never showered with praise as a child, but that was okay. He did not need to be praised in order to grow into a proper young man. The true problem arose after he left the South for Paris. They had nothing against the city, but they had everything against the beliefs he fortified there. After his first political essay was published, Enjolras received a letter that said, in no uncertain terms, that he was no longer welcome in his parents’ household. And once again, that was okay. He did not need praise or acceptance in order to grow into a charming young man.
Really.
He didn’t.
No. No, this was not the time to think about any sort of neglect he may or may not have experienced. Now was the time to realise that he was the one to neglect. He had neglected to save the lives of others at the barricade. His own life meant nothing, that was his own to give so freely, but the lives of other young men meant so much more. Yes, it may have been their choice to stand with him, but he must have neglected to truly inform them of the danger of the barricade. Their deaths were to be blamed on him, were they not?
He must have done something wrong, something to make the barricades fail as they did. Right?
It was his fault.
So, facing the National Guard, he accepted his fate. He embodied the last stand of the rebels. Squaring his shoulders and tossing aside his weapon, Enjolras welcomed Death as though he were his old companion. The first and last embrace he would give would be to Death. He still felt no fear, despite the dozen musket barrels aimed towards his body.
What came next is unclear.
Enjolras knew he had been shot. Twelve bullets. Were all of them for him? It felt as though he was only meant to take eight. Twelve bullets nailed him to the wall. Yes, that is what happened, was it not?
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As it happens to be, that is what occurred, though not what was meant to happen. The sceptic did not come to take four of those shots, in fact he was not there at all. And as it is, neither was the guide, nor the centre. No malade imaginaire, no working man, no poet. As it was, there was not a member of Les Amis de l’ABC present at the June barricades, bar the Chief.
And so let it be known, Enjolras, in fact, was alone. Not entirely, as there were still the other men of the barricade, but he did not have the support of the eight other men known to have fallen with him. Not even love-struck Pontmercy, or revolutionary Gavroche. Not even love-sick Éponine, though he was not aware of her presence originally as it were anyway.
Since there was no Joly, nor a Bossuet, there was no Musichetta to be found in 1832. And since there was no Marius, there was no Cosette Fauchelevent, nor Jean Valjean. And a world lacking Valjean lacked Javert as well. Every character that somehow played their part in the life of Enjolras was not to be found in his time. So once the report rang out, what befell Enjolras?
Well he went to a world that had all that his lacked.