Disclaimer-Again, I own nothing. This is where everyone's favorite students come into the picture.

June 4, 1832

Jean Prouvaire looked out over Paris from the window of the Café Musain. His eyes met a similar sight to Tom's. In contrast, he jumped when he saw the ghostly glow of the moon. Perhaps this was because the violence and danger of his revolution were near at hand. Jehan could barely hear Enjolras's voice over his own anxious thoughts. What if the barricades fall? What if we make no difference? Will the people ever be free?

At least Jehan knew they would never be forgotten. He had done too much for work for that to happen. He had sat in this café for months, writing the stories of these men. He had left no detail unnoticed, no remark unrecorded. If they died on the barricades--or perhaps when they died, it wasn't so much a question of "if" anymore--they would die in body, but they would live on the in the pages that Jehan had written. His friends and comrades, immortalized in the words he had chosen. The world would know that they had been there, fighting for what they knew was right.

What a group of friends it was! Enjolras, the distant leader; Combferre, the guide; Courfeyrac, the center; Grantaire, the cynic; Joly, the hypochondriac; Feuilly, the orphan who had made the world his family; Jehan himself, the writer, the dreamer…..And yet, none of these people could be summed up into mere labels or descriptions, they were so much more complex than that. Even in the hundreds of pages Jehan had written about these men, he doubted whether he could truly capture them. But of course, he had done his best, and he supposed that would have to do for now…

Jehan was so immersed in these poetic thoughts; it took him a moment to realize that Enjolras wasn't talking any longer. In fact, he, as well as most of the room, was brooding quietly as Jehan had just done. Feuilly raised his glass and sang softly the words that, unbeknownst to him, had guided another group to freedom. "Drink with me to days gone by…."

The next morning dawned strangely cold for June. Enjolras announced grimly that the people hadn't heard after all, and there would be no help for them on the barricades. Jehan had never seen his fearless leader look so devastated. However, not one student left their ranks. This was their cause, freedom to the people. And if they had to go it alone, well, so be it. Feuilly was singing the same song again, but as the others joined in, they added to the last line. "Let the wine of friendship never run dry. If I die, I die with you!"