Written with no mention of a name so you may insert your own OC into it. I find these are much more enjoyable to read, at least in my opinion. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables of any of the mentioned characters.

The barricade was eerily quiet as a solemn sadness hung over it's very boundaries. Most of the Les Amis de l'ABC were silent, especially Marius Pontmercy. The rain pattered gently against the ground, filling the silence with a small bit of noise to block out the hushed sobs of some of the people.

Her eyes filled with tears as she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly. The first drop of blood had been spilled; the first child of the barricade had fallen. How wrong, yet how right, it was that it should be Éponine to die first. It hurt to lose a friend so dear to her, but she knew her sacrifice would not be in vain. She died in peace, in the arms of the man she so deeply loved.

She thought back to the days she and Éponine would spend talking about their loves. Neither of them had the courage to admit their feelings to them, so they admired from afar. She swooned over the rebellious Enjolras while Éponine gushed over every little thing Marius did or said to her. Alas, those happy days of girlish daydreaming were over.

She often envied Éponine for her teasing nature. It was something she would never be able to pull off, at least not when looking into the eyes of Enjolras. He always was so stone faced and difficult to read. The only time he would show emotion was when he would reveal anger towards the obstruction of liberty, when he would raise his voice high and his eyes would light up with a burning passion that couldn't be matched by the fiercest calvary in the entire National Guard.

Yet, she knew it would never be. He had been asked many times if there was a young mademoiselle dancing her way into his life, and he would always reply with the same general answer. His country was his mistress.

Thus, all her hopes and dreams of being with him were repressed. Even now, as death and darkness lingered over the barricade, he managed perfectly to stay the strong leader that the Les Amis de l'ABC looked to.

"Courfeyrac, you take the watch," Enjolras ordered.

His strong and steady voice sent shivers down her spine. How could he be so sure, so unshaken by the events that had taken place. He may not have known Éponine personally, but even those who didn't seemed to mourn her death. Perhaps he was mourning, but distracted himself with revolutionary plans. No matter what his reasoning, it was astounding. The mark of a true leader.

"They may attack before it's light. Everybody keep the faith, for certain as our banner flies, we are not alone. The people too must rise," he continued.

She spat an inaudible laugh. They weren't all fools. No matter how many words of encouragement he could mutter from his sensual lips, everyone could see that the people of France have not stirred one bit. They knew they'd be fighting on their own, and they knew they would fall on their own. It was now only a matter of time before Enjolras had to accept it.

She peeked her head up as her eyes secretively followed him across the room. He was now saying something to Marius. Perhaps he did have some compassion in him after all? No, the thought was too bittersweet to bear.

He turned around unexpectedly, facing straight in her direction. She quickly averted her gaze back to her knees. Did he see her peering at him through her eyelashes? If so, what would he think? They weren't strangers; on a few occasions they had some considerably entertaining conversations. He was friendly enough, unless one were to oppose his political beliefs, but she knew better than to do that. In fact, she agreed with him on most things, just not to the radical extent that he did. Even during these conversations, she just spent most of her time listening to him talk and absorbing every word he said rather than being talkative herself.

When he didn't talk, he often fell into an oddly quiet and contemplative mood. She often wondered what it was that made him push for revolution so desperately. No one knew of his past, besides a close friend or two, and they weren't exactly the types to have loose lips.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the quiet, rhythmic thumps of footsteps approaching her. She didn't dare gaze up and risk meeting his smokey hazel eyes. Luckily, he did not say a word. He simply leaned against the wall next to her, remaining standing while she sat.

"Why here, of all places?" she wondered.

After a moment of prolonged silence, the crisp pop of a wine bottle being opened echoed through the room. Perfect, a drink was exactly what she needed.

She steadied herself onto her feet, realizing that she had been crying. She quickly wiped away her tears, then gladly accepted a glass of wine that had been passed to her. While she received the glass, her fingers happened to brush against the hand of the person giving her the drink, Enjolras. She felt instant static pulsate through her arm as her cheeks turned a light pink and she looked away. Despite being lightheaded from embarrassment, she could've sworn she saw him quirk a questioning eyebrow at her as she turned away. His weight shifted, but she didn't move from her spot.

It was at that moment Feuilly began singing. "Drink with me to days gone by. Sing with me the songs we knew."

A small smile crept onto her lips. Singing with her friends in the pub was one of her fondest memories. Sure, the ale may have been cheap, and the songs out of tune due to the drunkenness of the men, but in those very moments they were carefree and happy. Even Enjolras couldn't resist joining his brothers in song. His voice was like velvet. A beautiful sound that caught her attention and enveloped her very soul.

"Such a foolish girl you are," she thought to herself, bringing her back to the present.

Prouvaire toasted. "Here's to pretty girls who went to our heads."

"Here's to witty girls who went to our beds," Joly continued.

She felt him shift his weight again, and felt a slight warmth near her. Did that last statement make him uncomfortable?

Though he may have declared he may only have love for his country, he was a man. Like any other human being, he had physical needs. Perhaps he wasn't as fortunate as other's in romance? No, that wasn't it. Not with his curly hair, smokey eyes, and strong, defined jawline with a sprinkling of blonde stubble. There was no way he wasn't experienced.

If only she had a chance to brush her lips against his graceful ones. To be locked in a kiss that he would not let her escape from, not that she would mind, anyway. She was sure he was wonderful, but tried to bring herself back to the present. There was no use thinking about something that would never be.

All the men joined in. "Here's to them, and here's to you."

She managed to look up again, only to notice his eyes shifting to her during the last lyric. An intense blush appeared on her cheek again, but she attempted to push all feelings of nervousness away. She did this to no avail, but at least she was able to keep her head held high.

Granataire rose his glass. "Drink with me to days gone by..."

"What an odd statement to say," she thought. Weren't they fighting the hellish days that have passed by? Weren't they opposing the very way they were forced to live? She came to the conclusion to toast to the good things the were in her life. Only two came to mind; one was shot dead and the other was a person who probably only had her as a whisper of a thought in his head.

"Can it be you fear to die? Will the world remember you when you fall? Could it be your death means nothing at all?" Granataire continued. "Is your life just one more lie?"

This is where she choked up and began to reach her breaking point. Besides Éponine, she had no friends or family left in this world. Sure, she had aquaintences in the Les Amis de l'ABC, but all of them were people who would be able to live without her. She meant nothing significant to anyone, anymore. Yet, here she was, fight for not only her rights but the rights of people who wouldn't even miss her if she were to die. Tears burned in here eyes as she looked down and prayed no one noticed.

The men joined together in song, and the women echoed. "Drink with me..."

She even attempted to sing, despite the broken and lonely tone in her voice. She felt him move again, suddenly this time. Her heart began pounding as her stomach twisted into knots. She could feel his eyes set on her. She slowly rose her glass as the others were, toasting to everything they sang. They both knew he was watching, yet they both continued to sing.

"To days gone by... To the life that used to be..."

She felt two firm hands rest upon her hips. Her breathing hitched as she looked down to see the distinctive red sleeves of a coat that could only belong to one man. She shyly buried her face into his collarbone and hear a small laugh escape from his lips. He began gently swaying her back and forth.

He now leaned over to sing in her ear as his sweet breath gently caressed her skin.

"At the shrine of friendship never say die. Let the wine of friendship never run dry," Enjolras sang solely to her. The voices of the others were drowned out by his whispers, she only wanted to focus on him.

"Here's to you..." he sang, then slowly pulled away. Almost instantly, she missed and longed for his safe embrace. She wondered if she did something wrong. She was shy in these types of situations, she didn't know how to flirt back to tease.

Her racing mind stopped her eyes locked on his, which were already intently staring at her. He pulled her closer, and caressed her cheek. His fingers trailed down to her jaw and pulled her head closer as he sang his final note and began closing his eyes.

"... And here's to me."

That was it. The gap between the two had been filled by a kiss exchanged between two captivated lovers. The kiss was everything she had imagined. Gentle and soft, like the gentleman he was, yet passionate and demanding showing he desired more. His arms tightly wrapped around her back, trapping her into the kiss. Her arms trailed up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer as her fingers ran through his luscious blonde curls. He had enough wine to be sober, yet enough to leave his mouth with the sweet taste of the grapes it was made from.

The lovers broke the kiss, but they didn't move an inch away from each other. She smiled as one of his hand moved up to her face. He placed his palm on her cheek and ran his thumb down her lips while gazing into her eyes.

It was in this very moment they're last night was complete. If they were to rise, or fall, they would do so without a single thought of regret or remorse within their lives.

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