[fic] The Last Place You've Been
Aug. 16th, 2007 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
patria_ou_mortTitle: The Last Place You've Been
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nightangelca
Pairing(s): none
Rating: G
Summary: Post-camp. Post-barricade. AU.
It might have been the pressure of Grantaire returning the grip of his hand with an uncharacteristic firmness, resolute and only the slightest bit desperate. Or maybe it was the slightly foreign feeling of the smile pulling at his face, an expression of something like forgiveness, though what exactly was being forgiven was anyone's guess. Or it could have been the thought of how he had expected to die alone because that was the prize for being the last man standing, that and having seen his best and maybe only friend fall before him only to leave him with one whose devotion he'd never been able to understand.
Modern photography had not yet been invented, though, so there wasn't even the thought of a photo finish to determine which was the last thing that Enjolras knew before the loud crack and the bullets burying their way into his body and the darkness.
For all of that mystery, however, what left him most perplexed was how the stifling trap of gunsmoke and blood-slicked stone and screams had completely vanished. After the heated chaos that had been the taking of the barricade, he felt deafened by the silence that was not actually silence as he lay bonelessly on the cool softness of a substance that his mind could not comprehend.
The ground, it eventually occurred to him. He was laying on the ground, the earth itself, the foundation foreign to the streets of the city he loved so much.
After making that grand deduction, he next decided to tackle the question of what was poking him in the head. As it fuzzily bumped him yet again, he reflexively batted at it with his hand.
"...kupo?"
Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw. Even more slowly, he believed what he was seeing.
Though he claimed France as his one love, his sole mistress, there are those who might accuse Enjolras of infidelity, as unconscious as the act might have been. For although he was willing to gift France with his life, it was only Louisiana that heard him laugh.
Author:
nightangelcaPairing(s): none
Rating: G
Summary: Post-camp. Post-barricade. AU.
It might have been the pressure of Grantaire returning the grip of his hand with an uncharacteristic firmness, resolute and only the slightest bit desperate. Or maybe it was the slightly foreign feeling of the smile pulling at his face, an expression of something like forgiveness, though what exactly was being forgiven was anyone's guess. Or it could have been the thought of how he had expected to die alone because that was the prize for being the last man standing, that and having seen his best and maybe only friend fall before him only to leave him with one whose devotion he'd never been able to understand.
Modern photography had not yet been invented, though, so there wasn't even the thought of a photo finish to determine which was the last thing that Enjolras knew before the loud crack and the bullets burying their way into his body and the darkness.
For all of that mystery, however, what left him most perplexed was how the stifling trap of gunsmoke and blood-slicked stone and screams had completely vanished. After the heated chaos that had been the taking of the barricade, he felt deafened by the silence that was not actually silence as he lay bonelessly on the cool softness of a substance that his mind could not comprehend.
The ground, it eventually occurred to him. He was laying on the ground, the earth itself, the foundation foreign to the streets of the city he loved so much.
After making that grand deduction, he next decided to tackle the question of what was poking him in the head. As it fuzzily bumped him yet again, he reflexively batted at it with his hand.
"...kupo?"
Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw. Even more slowly, he believed what he was seeing.
Though he claimed France as his one love, his sole mistress, there are those who might accuse Enjolras of infidelity, as unconscious as the act might have been. For although he was willing to gift France with his life, it was only Louisiana that heard him laugh.
