• Lafayette: learned how to ski when they were three years old, and switched to snowboard at age twelve (they're really fucking good at both but prefer the board). King of the slopes, can do all kinds of stunts and tricks. Their favorite thing is going cross country, though; they've done the jump-out-of-a-helicopter-to-get-to-a-fantastic-slope-thing a bunch of times back in the French Alps and would love to do it again in America
• Herc: appears to be the typical cool snowboarder skiing families hate, going fast, doing stunts, blasting his own music via portable Bluetooth speaker, splashing people (especially his friends) with snow every time he stops; but he's never run over anyone ever and patiently helps ski-school-kids taking the lift.
• Alex: bloody beginner, falling on his face or ass at every turn. Still insists on following his friends down the black slopes and ends up sliding down on his belly, getting snow up his coat and down his pants, having the time of his life.
• John: the only one in the set who's skiing, which leads to heated debates on what's the superior means of sport as well as intense stunt competitions at the halfpipe. He never misses a jump, ever.
i love all of the revolutionary set boys, y'know, alexander hamilton, john laurens, marquis de lafayette, and *squints at smudged writing on hand* hackey-sack michigan
TRIGGER WARNINGS!!! There is a death at the end of this chapter (not a major character, yet), with some fairly graphic wound descriptions, so skip from the words “John *****’s hurt” to the end if you don’t want to read that.
The morning dawned, hot and bright, several months had passed since the first night they’d spent tangled together in a heap; days and weeks moving by them in a whirl of late nights and busy days. June came upon them in a burst of heat, days lengthened, the sun hanging hot a round in the sky before it would bleed red in to the night. The nights were short, hot an humid; John had taken to curling up on the threadbare carpet instead of the feather mattresses, complaining that he was too hot to do anything but lie there spread out like a starfish. Alexander, who had twice grown up in the heat, laughed at John, who, this time, had grown up in the colder conditions around Montfermeil, was not used to such heat that permeated the city. The trees had their leaves back and Paris was lined with greenery, birds danced in between them and flew through the blue skies as the sun beat its heat upon bone dry pavements. The Seine, that had flown fast and free in damp, cold winter, now left its banks dry and empty, as it crawled lazily along. Where, in the parks, the grass had been green, it was now a dry brown colour. The newspapers said it would be the hottest June anyone alive had seen; the heat had been building since late May, it would only get worse.
Enjolras stood in the upstairs room of the Musain, gazing out of the window, framed in sunlight; his hair glowed in a circlet of gold around him. Like a glorious hero of old, he stood and looked out upon his army, not that the Les Amis were really an army. The cafe was full, and bustling with people; John, Alexander, and Lafayette were pouring over a map that was spread out on a table in the left hand corner, the others were running around fetching guns and rounds. Jehan was sewing a large red flag to a pole he had stolen from his art class. John had brought his little brother, Gavroche in with him; he had been running around getting under everyone’s toes, until Grantaire had taken him in his arms and swooped around with the little boy hanging off him like a monkey. They were sitting on a beaten up sofa, Grantaire was teaching Gavroche to read, just like John did whenever he was home. Enjolras leant backwards on the sill, baking his weight against the slightly rotten wood. He watched the scene before him, feeling joy bubble up in his chest. The revolution he had hoped for all his life, since he found out about the corruption, was happening; the people would rise up for them and they would be bathed in righteous glory. Or they would die. He shook the thought from his head, who ever heard of a summer’s day killing anyone? Combeferre ran in, soaked in sweat, his coat dragging on the floor behind him; he startled Enjolras out of his day dream.
“At Notre Dame the sections are prepared!” He shouted over, when he caught sight of Enjolras, “this happening, Enjy, the very thing we dreamed of! I can feel it in my bones, we’re going to make a real change this time.”
“Of course we are brother. Tell everything you know to Lafayette, Alexander, and John.” He said, nodding to where the three men were placing miniature barricades on a map.
“At rue de Bac they’re straining at the leash! Something has to happen soon or we’ll have riots; not revolutions on our hands,” Feuilly came tearing in after Combeferre, sweat and dust coating his face as he looked for Enjolras.
“Something’s happening soon, I can feel it, not long now,” Enjolras moved from the window to clasp Feuilly’s shoulder. “Worry not, something’s happening soon.” He paused, looking round the cafe, “have you seen Marius, today?”
“No, not today, not yet,” Feuilly said, shaking his head and moving to sit next to Bahorel and Musichetta.
“Alex!” Enjolras moved over to the map, “have you noticed- Marius! You’re late.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Marius, sit down,” Jehan ran over to Marius, who walked in white faced and almost trembling, a sort of manic gleam in his eyes.
“Pontmercy! Have some wine and tell us everything you’ve seen,” Grantaire said moving over, Gavroche on his back, until he passed him off to John, who took his little brother on his shoulders.
“A ghost? More like the most beautiful girl ever,” Marius sighed, resting his chin on his hand and taking the bottle Grantaire handed him.
“Can it be? Is Marius fawning over some pretty girl? Our Marius? In love at last?” Grantaire laughed, spinning Enjolras around, “Here we are, planning the greatest revolution Paris has ever seen, and there he is hooked on some pretty thing. My god, man it’s better than an opera!”
“No more of this talk! Now is the time we’ve been waiting for, or have you all just been following us around for a laugh?” Alexander said, standing on a nearby table; ignoring Laf’s grabbing hand, “Are going to fight for the right to see goddamned opera? Or is this just going to turn into another college boys’ joke? Is this all a game?”
“Alexander, get off the table,” Grantaire said, looking up at him, all the jokiness drained from him.
“Had you seen her there tonight you might know how it feels, to be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight-“
“Marius, I know you’re oblivious but-“ Jehan began, looking at Marius in shock.
“How could you miss-“ Courfeyrac gasped, breaking out in an uncontrollable fit of giggles.
“Really, Pontmercy, you didn’t notice?” Combeferre said, rolling his eyes.
“Notice what?” Marius said, looking around at the rest of them, who were all staring at him in a mixture of shock and scandal.
“We’re together, we know what it’s like, Marius.” Enjolras barked out a short laugh, helping Alexander off the table.
“You two… you’re together?” Marius stared at them in shock.
“Uh, yeah, make that the five of us, Pontmercy. While you were off mooning after whoever you have just fallen in love with, we got together.”
Marius fell out of his chair, “I never thought I’d see the day where Enjolras admitted he was in love with you and Grantaire,” he said from the floor, looking up at them a smile stretched over his cheeks.
“This really is better than an opera,” Joly muttered, his eyes brimming with mirth.
“Enough, of this!” Enjolras sighed, rolling his eyes, “it is time for us all to decide who we are, no more games, no more jokes. We’ve a revolution to win. We just need the sign, then Paris will rise to our side. Well? Do we have enough guns Courf? Come one, our time is running out, R please, put that bottle down.”
“Give me brandy on my breath; I’ll breath em all to death!” Grantaire said, stretching out his arms and leaning in to tick Gavroche who let out a high pitched yell and leapt off John’s shoulders straight at R, who cough him and pretended to eat him.
“If I wasn’t sold on that man already, I damned would be now. I haven’t been able to make Gav laugh like that in years,” John sighed, “if only I could find Éponine-“
“You’ve lost her?” Lafayette asked, placing a hand on John’s shoulders, turning him around so that they faced each other.
“Aye, I know she goes off on her own a lot, but I thought she’d be hanging around here. Or I thought she would have gone home sometime in the last two weeks,” John leant his head against Lafayette’s shoulder, “I hope she’s okay, she’s only seventeen and a girl alone as well.”
“From what you’ve told me about her, she’ll be just fine, just you wait and see. When the new world rises from the ashes, she’ll be by our side,” Lafayette smiled and kissed John lightly, stroking a hand through his hair.
“I know she will,” John smiled up a Lafayette. “I know she will.”
“My boys,” Alexander walked up to them, “once more into the valley of death, then?” He grinned, and held out a hand for each of them.
“As long as I have you two by my side, Enjolras and Grantaire at my back, I would march for the gates of hell,” Lafayette grinned, “it has been too long since I last faced death and won.”
“I have missed watching death fly past me,” John took Alex’s hand, “just like old times.”
“To Washington!” Alexander held out a drink, “to freedom! To liberty!”
“To Hercules!’ Lafayette added as they drank down their wine.
“Aye, to Hercules,” John smiled, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, it was one of Alexander’s old ones, they’d mended the buttons on them, but Alexander had been taken with wearing Lafayette’s finer shirts than the old type he used to wear. John had realised this and had stolen all of Alex’s old shirts; with them he’d mended a lot of his sibling’s clothes, but he had saved two for himself to wear as they were nicer than anything he’d had in a long time.
A young boy stood in the doorway, he darted forward as he spotted Gavroche, who was running about trying to muscle in on the action. Gavroche stopped as he approached, turning to the lad, who whispered in his ear. Gavroche’s whole body seemed to droop, he hugged the boy and ran to John, tugging on his brother’s shirt sleeve.
“John,” he tugged, “John!” he tugged again, “John!” he shouted.
“What is it, Gav?” John knelt so he was level with Gavroche.
“General Lamarque is dead,” Gavroche said, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Lamarque?” John whispered, standing up, picking Gavroche up and putting him on his shoulders. “Enjy.”
“John? Are you alight?” Enjolras turned to see John’s pale face, he cupped his cheek, turning his head from side to side, “perhaps you should go and sit down?”
“No, love, I’m fine.” John waved a hand and took Enjolras’s hand from his cheek, “Enjy, Lamarque is dead.”
“No.” Enjolras croaked, “it can’t be. Lamarque?”
“Theo just told me,” Gavroche leant forward, to move in closer to Enjolras, even though he was perched on John’s shoulders.
“Lamarque is dead,” Alexander and Lafayette had followed John over to Enjolras when they’d seen him rush over there. Alexander stood leaning in to Lafayette, as the taller strung an arm of his shoulders.
“Yes, Lamarque is dead,” John nodded.
“Wait,” Enjolras said, the light of rebellion coming back and filling the void that had been there, “his death could be the sign we’ve been waiting for.”
“Enjy, what do you mean?” Lafayette leaned forward, a grin starting to appear.
“R! R! Get over here,” John called, Grantaire over from where he’d been laughing with Jehan.
“Yes?” said R, looking at them all.
“General Lamarque’s dead,” Alexander told him.
“Shit,” Grantaire looked at Enjolras, “wait, I know that look, what’re you planning?”
“He was the people’s man, everyone knew him; they loved him, so, on his funeral day they will honour his name. Think of it, it’s a rallying cry that will reach every ear! That, is where the flame will be kindled, the people will see their salvation is near.” With that, he stood on the table, and shouted to the Amis, his arms raised like the Roman emperors of old. “Friends, the time is near, welcome it gladly with no doubts in our hearts, the people of Paris will rise and join us. They will come when we call!”
There was a chorus of shouts and cheers, Lafayette, and Courfeyrac picked Enjolras up off the table and paraded him around the room; Alexander, John, and Grantaire following behind waving their red flag behind them. The rest of the Les Amis cheering them on, Gavroche on John’s shoulders grasping at their outstretched hands. The cafe’s walls were lined with guns and boxes of rounds, there were planks and larger bits of wood for help with building the barricade; only a few tables and chairs remained intact, the rest of them had been chopped up.
“Back to work! Only one day more!” Enjolras shouted, laughing as he was pitched head first on to the sofa, Alexander had other ideas; he sat on top of Enjolras pressing their foreheads together.
“Julien,” he said, “whatever happens tomorrow-“
“Alexander, hush, it’s going to be fine. The people of Paris will rise, it’s time,” Julien smiled, and brushed a strand of Alexander’s wayward hair behind his ear.
“But, listen, whatever happens, I want you to know that even if we aren’t soulmates, I think of you as one.” Alexander looked at Enjolras, his eyes full of emotion, he brushed his thumb along Enjy’s cheekbone; cupping his face as he brought their lips together in a chaste kiss.
“I love you,” Enjolras mumbled against his lips, “I love you so much. I love you all so much.” He said, looking behind Alexander at the other three who stood there holding hands.
They decided to stay in the cafe that night, the rest of the Les Amis came in and out as the night wore on. Joly, Combeferre, and John had their heads bent together as they sorted out their medical supplies; they were placed carefully in a box, that was labelled and put to the side of the room. Grantaire and Alexander sat tangled together on the sofa, their legs so intertwined it was impossible for anyone to see where one ended and the other began. Grantaire looked around the room, as the only people he cared about ran about planning a revolution that he was sure he was going to die in.
“At least, if we do die, we’ll all die together, no one’s going to be alone.” Alexander mumbled into his hair.
“Hmm,” Grantaire hummed as Alexander ran his fingers through the tangles in his curly hair. “We wont die.”
“That’s the first time you’ve showed any faith in this,” Alexander looked down to catch R’s eye, “Ranae?” he said, but R was already asleep, his breath huffing in and out a small smile on his face.
“Has he had enough water? He’s had a bit to drink,” John said, walking over to them looking down at R.
“Yeah, I made him have a glass or two before he dropped off,” Alex smiled, and looked up at John.
***
The barricade soared in to the sky, bits of wood stuck out at all angles; it was made of beds, chairs, planks, and tables had all been sacrificed to make the towering structure. The sun was rising between the buildings of the Rue de Villette, red light streaked the clouds and bled in to the blue. Jehan sat, propped on one of the boxes, notebook in hand; his head was tipped up and he watched the sun as it rose.
“You’ve seen things like this before,” he said, looking at Lafayette who was checking the ammunition.
“Battles? Yes. Anything like this? No.” Lafayette smiled grimly, and sat on the box next to Jehan, “I shouldn’t worry too much, Enjolras and Alexander have thought of just about everything.”
“I have every faith in them,” Jehan smiled, “I just-“
“I know, stick with me, you’ll be fine,” he placed a hand on Jehan’s shoulder and squeezed slightly.
“Thank you, Lafayette. You knew Lamarque, didn’t you?” Jehan asked, turning around to look at him.
“Very briefly, when he was a young man and I was visiting Paris on behalf of Washington,” Lafayette nodded.
“What was he like? I mean as equals?” Jehan asked.
“He was a good man, a lot of people didn’t like him, but he was a good man,” Lafayette faced Jehan properly, “why?”
“No real reason, I suppose, I just wanted know,” Jehan shrugged, “I should let you get on, Enjolras’ll be on your case no doubt.”
John stared at the boy, from his perch on the window sill in the cafe, he had a dirty cap covering half of his face; he was short, shorter than Jehan who was walking past him. The boy was lifting boxes on top of the barricade, John couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was familiar.
“R, have you seen that boy around here before?” He asked Grantaire, grabbing the other’s arm and pulling him to the window.
“Can’t say I have,” R shrugged and ruffled John’s hair, pressing a kiss to his skull before he wandered away to Enjolras.
“He looks familiar,” John muttered, “wait.” The boy’s hat had come off slightly, revealing more of the face beneath it. “Alexander!” John yelled.
“Yes?” Alex came over.
“Alex, it’s Éponine. Éponine is down there; I have to go, I have to get her out of there,” John said, standing and grabbing hold of Alex’s jacket, “she’s seventeen, Alex, I can’t let her fight.”
“I know, I know. Let’s go. We’ll go together, you and me; we’ll get her out of here,” Alexander said, pulling John to the door.
They ran down the rickety, crooked stairs that lead out of the upstairs room of the cafe; and into the street below where the barricade was still rising fast. More and more bits of wood had been piled on the top of the barricade so now it was at least two stories high. Without warning Jehan, who’d climbed to the top, shouted out.
“Soldiers advancing towards the barricades! Fifty men or more!” He jumped down from plank to plank and landed in front of Alexander.
“Everyone to you positions!” Alexander shouted, “Enjolras!”
“Aye?” Enjolras had come thundering down the stairs, followed by the rest of the men who had been in the cafe.
“Soldiers approaching the barricades, fifty or more!” Alex yelled at him.
“Right,” Enjolras’s face took on a determined look; his eyes hardened and he grabbed on to a pole and swung himself on to the barricade. “The fight for our freedom has just begun, let us defend this barricade to the last man! Let it not be said again that the people cannot change the world!”
“You at the barricade listen to this! No one is coming to help you to fight! You’re on you own, you have no friends; give up your guns or die!” A voice ricocheted through the street, the Les Amis looked at each other and then back to Enjolras who stood against the barricade a look of righteous anger plastered on his face.
“Damn their warnings! Damn their lies! They will see the people rise! We are not alone, friends, Paris will rise!” He shouted, waving the flag Lafayette had just handed him. “Positions my friends; prepare for the first attack!”
John and Alexander fought through the tide of people that was converging on the barricade, they had been about ten meters from John’s sister; now though, they could no longer see her. She had fallen in to the surge of boys and had disappeared. Perhaps she had seen John running for her and decided to hide from him, in order to fight; Alexander didn’t know, but he knew the barricade was no place for a child. They had sent Gavroche home earlier, before the barricade had been built; John had relaxed a great deal after that, knowing that his brother would be safe through the fighting. There was a volley of shots, their stark, deadly sounds echoing up the street and hitting the barricade a full force; no one fell, not this time, every one had ducked at the right time. They could see Enjolras standing right at the top of the barricade, the sun like a halo behind him as he cheered on the boys; laughing in a sort of maniacal way as he waved the flag and shot at the National Guard with a pistol. They searched through the crowds looking for Éponine, as volley after volley of shots rained down upon them; every now and then, they would look up to make sure their lovers were okay, once they had they would return to the search.
“She’ll be okay, John, I swear.” Alexander said, every time they saw a boy fall from the barricade.
They found no sign of her. They searched and searched, even as the sun came down in a flash of pink and orange; but there was no sign of a boy in a brown cap. Rain started to fall in little drops, small rivulets breaking the heat of the day. They looked on their face’s streaked now, with mud, sweat, and rain. There were plenty of wounded, and already some had died, though it seemed all their friends were alright; they passed Joly who was running back and forth with needles, and bandages.
“Ponine!” John shouted, “Ponine!”
“John?” The word was croaked from somewhere to their left, where a small hollow had been carved out of the barricade.
“Ponine? Thank god, you’re okay,” John said, pulling his sister out from under the barricade, “Ponine, what are you doing here, this is no place for a child.”
“‘M not a child Jacque,” Éponine mumbled, curling into John.
“John…” Alexander gasped and point to the blooming red patch on Éponine’s shirt. “John, she’s hurt.”
“No.” John said, as Éponine doubled over, blood pouring down her front; and out of her mouth. She coughed and tried to talk. “Hush, hush it’s okay, it’s going to be okay. Alexander please-“
“Joly! Joly! Ferre! Someone!” Alexander shouted as he crouched down beside John, balling up his waistcoat and pressing down on the rapidly growing red patch.
“Ponine,” John cried, his face was red and tears were pouring down his cheeks, “Ponine stay with me, look at me; only at me, okay.”
“Jacque, Jacque, I’m sorry, please,” Éponine’s breaths were chocking and looked painful, as she fought for her life, “tell, tell Gav I love him; give him a kiss and a hug from me.” Her eyes were glassing over with pain or with something else, something no one there could see.
“Ponine, no, no, Ponine, don’t go; don’t go, Ponine, look at me,” John said, brushing her hair, that had fallen out of the cap, back off her forehead. “That’s it, look at me.”
“Alexander,” Joly said, softly, pulling Alex up and looking at him in the eye, “Alexander, we can’t- there’s nothing-“
“There has to be something; there has to be something you can do,” Alexander pleaded, grabbing Joly’s arms.
“This isn’t something, that people survive; even if we could stop the bleeding and repair her organs, she’d likely only survive a few more days, she’d end up with a fever and that would kill her. Alex, there’s nothing I can do, I’m sorry,” Joly said, squeezing Alex’s shoulder and stepping back.
“No. No.” Alex shook his head and knelt down by John again, stroking his hand through John’s hair, “Joly, please.”
“I’m sorry,” Joly called, running over to treat another boy, who’d bee shot in the leg.
“Not like this,” John was whispering into Éponine’s hair, “she’s seventeen, Alexander, seventeen,” he had picked her up and was cradling her in his lap, like he had done whens she’d been ill as a child. “Éponine?” He whispered, but she did not respond.
No more breaths wracked her body; her eyes were closed as the rain fell down around them, it mixed with the blood that stained Éponine’s shirt, diluting it and making it almost as though it wasn’t there. John’s body convulsed with sobs as he held her to his chest, rocking her backwards and forwards like a babe. Alexander couldn’t see his tears for the rain, but he knew there would be many and they would be pouring down his face. Alex had seen John cry once, when Phillip had been shot, when Alexander had held his son in his arms as he’d died; but, it hadn’t been like this. This was something Alex had never thought he’d see from John, an animalistic side of grief. John’s eyes were red as he looked up at Alex. He took great shuddering breaths, as though breathing was hard for him now that his sister no longer could.
“She was seventeen,” he whispered, “it’s my fault. I didn’t get to her quick enough.”
