Prologue

The stench of gunpowder filled Eponine's nose making her cough and splutter. She could hear the shots being fired, the boys of the barricade falling all around her, the shouts of the soldiers as they scaled the structure. And then silence as a small figure fell past her and hit the ground, its limp lifeless form sprawled across the cobbles. Gavroche. Her little brother, the innocent child, the streetwise urchin, gone in a second. The National Guard had stopped firing, the resistance too stunned, too shocked to move.

"Vive la France!" the cry went up like the first birdsong of the morning, and chaos renewed. Eponine dived behind an overturned table to protect herself from the bullets, never letting her eyes leave Marius, making sure he was alright. A scream erupted from her throat as a bloody body fell with a thud on top of her. Her head was a mess; she couldn't think straight, panic blurred her vision and fear made her head spin. Closing her eyes tight, she curled herself tightly trying to block everything out and remain hidden, remain safe.

She barely noticed when someone pulled on her forearm leading her away, sheltering her. The only things she saw were the bodies, and the only things she heard were the sounds of gunshots and the screams vibrating in her ears. Her own cries mingled with those of the fallen, until something began to block her mouth making it hard to breathe and even harder to speak.

"It's going to be a tight squeeze," a distant voice said, very faint, so faint in fact that she wasn't even sure if she really heard it. Then it all went dark, the screams and gunshots became more distant, the smell of gunpowder vanished but was replaced by once far more repulsive. There were voices, many of them, all male, one old, and the rest young. She felt herself being pulled through a small gap, feeling like her insides were being sucked out of her, along with all the air in her lungs, she fought the irresistible urge to scream for help.

A release of pressure and she felt herself falling, falling far away from reality. She braced herself for the impact but it never came.

XXX

"Vive la France!" Enjolras cried in anguish, hoping that the pain of losing his comrades would be carried away with these words. Firing his musket with as much haste as he could, he retreated slowly, waiting for the bullet to hit him but it never did, while everyone else fell around him, their shrieks piercing the air like a knife.

"Enjolras!" a hoarse voice shouted in his ear, "It's too late, we have to move!"

He turned to see the face of Jehan, urging him towards the alley that went around the back of the café.

"What are we doing?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the advancing enemy.

"The volunteer that killed the inspector has found a way out! If we want to live we have to move!" Jehan spoke in haste, fear lacing itself around his words, tightening them, constricting them. With one last shot, Enjolras threw his gun to the ground to follow Jehan around the corner where a group stood around a grate in the wall that surely led to the sewers. It wasn't appealing, but the alternative was far worse. He realised that Marius was wounded badly and being dragged into the pipe by the volunteer, and the few men that were also there had their fair share of injuries, scars and bloody gashes covered their body like moths to a light. They hurried into the small tunnel when Enjolras turned for one last glance at the barricade he had abandoned. He felt a dagger of guilt stab him when he saw that men were still fighting for the cause he was deserting.

But something even more remarkable caught his eye. A small figure crouched beneath a table on the very edge of the makeshift protection, curled up in a ball. He looked closer and realised that it wasn't a man at all but a girl, and one he recognised. It was Marius' shadow, he had seen her hovering at the edge of meetings and it didn't take him long to work out that she must have followed him here. Pity filled his heart adding to the fire of guilt that was burning in his stomach.

"Enjolras come on!" Jehan shouted as he entered the dark, stinking tunnel. But Enjolras was already running in the opposite direction towards the girl whose name he now remembered to be Eponine. She was crying out in fear, tears springing in her eyes, cuts and grazes decorating her angular face and bony body.

He grasped hold of her forearm after what seemed to be an age of running, she didn't seem to notice, her dilated pupils darting around the horrifying scene.

"Come on, you need to move with me," again he wasn't sure whether or not she registered him, but she moved all the same. Enjolras felt splinters of wood knock the back of his head as yet another cannon was fired into the barricade. Instinctively he moved one arm over the girl's back to shield her already damaged body. He reached the drain, his heart pounding in his chest, as he began to understand how stupid his decision had been, he prayed to God that they would just make it into the tunnel. Eponine was crying out in a strangled voice so loud that he had to clamp one sweaty palm over her mouth to distract any attention she could be drawing in.

"It's going to be a tight squeeze," he muttered to her, but mainly to appease himself. Before he entered the tunnel and pulled the girl in after him by her skinny wrists.

He was soon grateful for her slim physique as it made it easier to drag her ungracefully down the tunnel that soon turned into a steep descent and he tumbled into the sludge that sat below. In the dim light he could spy the group just a short distance in front of them; he turned to Eponine wondering if she could wade through the water unassisted. But alas! He found her to be unconscious, an effect of the blood seeping through her thin shirt.

"Enjolras!" someone called to him. Debating how best to carry her, he opted for carrying her unceremoniously over his shoulder and finding her to be unnaturally light, but her ribs, hip bones and collar bone dug into his back and shoulder uncomfortably.

"Sorry," he gasped for fresh air in the stodgy sewer that he was never going to get.

"Who's that? What on earth were you thinking?" Grantaire asked him in anger that he knew was only because he was worried.

"She was hiding out by the barricade, she had come for Marius. And I couldn't leave her! You would've thought the same thing had you seen her," he protested coughing harshly. Enjolras knew that in any other circumstance they might have teased him for saving the damsel in distress, but now wasn't the time or the place. And judging from her condition, Enjolras thought he had every right to call her a damsel in distress

"That's enough now, I think I can see the light just through the end of the tunnel," an elderly voice said from a little way in front of them. It was that of the volunteer, whose name was still unbeknownst to Enjolras and most of the congregation.

The promise of fresh air and freedom brought a new spring to each of their step, if they could call it that. Wading through the waste was tiring, but Enjolras refused to stop or put Eponine down and he certainly wasn't going to leave her.

He knew that when light came it would be dawn, and the dawn or a different world. But certainly not the one he had managed.