Authors note: Hi, so I'd thought I'd try this out. I thought I should post a little bit about me if you're bothered to read my fics, then I think you should know at least a little about me.

Please forgive my spelling and grammatical errors in my fics. I know it's not excuse, but I was born in Venice and moved to Ireland only five years ago. Anyway, I'm 16 and will be 17 in December. Yes, Italia is Italian for Italy and no, it's not my first name but I feel more Italian than I am Irish so.

I love any musical but my favourites are Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, Next to Normal, Catch Me If You Can, and, Wicked. However, I am a lover of all musicals and I want to be in west end shows when I'm older.

I write my own songs and play the guitar. I love to surf and cycle and I'm a gymnast and dancer.

So, this is me, and here's my first ever fic. Enjoy and leave me reviews, nice or nasty, I'll take them all!

Italia Xxx

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

He was in his early years of being twenty, and along with his comrades (some a year younger), an experienced pilot.

He and his friends had joined the RAF together, two years ago, before war broke out. Even though they knew the inevitable was a year away, being fully trained to fly Submarine Spitfires and Hawker Hurricanes.

It was now 1941.

"Give my greetings to Captain Javert, will you?" Marshall Myriel told him as he shook hands with the young pilots.

"Will do Sir." Enjolras said, nodding to him.

Fear plagued the older man's eyes, maybe fear for their lives? Or, maybe the fact that his daughter has been missing for two years? He had brought her up in Dublin, but she was adopted.

"Thank you, my dear boy."

"She will come back, Sir. She knows what she's doing." Enjolras reassured the man.

"I hope so, Enjolras, I hope so." His smile faded and he stepped back, calling his pilots to him. They were all dressed in their white shirts with black ties, and their air force blue jackets done up with the belt fastened around their waists with a similar shade trousers and polished black shoes. All carried their peak caps.

"Gather round lads!" Myriel ordered them. They came.

"Enjolras, Combeferre, Bahoral, Lesgles, Prouvaire" They were all called by their last names in the forces. "Go and do your nation proud. Do not fear death, let the notion fuel your planes and hearts and once again, it shall lead us to victory, under Churchill's lead."

"Now, get your asses into those spitfires, as the HMS Illustrious and The Montre await your arrival!"

They knew the Hurricanes would be on board the air craft carrier called the HMS Illustrious as it was protecting the merchant ship, The Montre. They were needed to protect the ship from the air, if the German's launched an air attack. They were headed to the two ships on the Mediterranean Ocean.

The five young pilots jumped in their planes and flew the long journey, high over German occupied France.

Flight deck engineers. Sailors. The Illustrious was full of them.

Grantaire spun around as a chinking was heard on the flight deck of the air craft carrier.

"Sorry!" Marius' head came out from under a Hurricane.

"You're meant to be fixing them, not breaking them even more Pontmercy!" He joked with the younger engineer. How he actually passed the exam was a mystery.

"What's going on? Marius got his wrench stuck in the engine again?" Laughed Courfeyrac, who came over with oily navy blue overalls.

Marius scowled and pulled himself from underneath the plane.

He stood taller than both of them and narrowed his emerald eyes at their jibes.

"No!" He sneered and then looked away, his slight freckles making him look like a five year old.

"I got my screwdriver stuck instead, this time."

"What was that?" Grantaire asked him, pretending not to hear the 19 year olds problem with getting his tools stuck.

"817 Squadron should be here soon!" Feuilly ran up to them. His hair wild as it looked as if he had just gotten up and dressed in a hurry as he did last night's shift. He was just a sailor, as well as one of the two medics aboard.

They all looked at one another in realisation.

"817? Isn't that-" Grantaire was cut off by the fierce sound of low flying spitfires.

They did victory rolls and looped the loops, one flew upside down for a good ten seconds.

"He knows how to show off, doesn't he?!" Marius laughed.

"They're all as bad as one another."

They navy boys turned at their Captain's voice. Javert tutted as the planes landed.

"Go on lads, go and say hello to your old friends."

So they did.

Thenardier addressed his men, as they stood in the captain's room aboard the merchant ship, The Montre.

"We need information, men. Babet, go to the Illustrious' sick bay, and find out about the missions. Claquesous, as first mate of mine, get close to Javert. Gueulemer, and Montparnasse, work your way through the engineers and other sailors. I'll hold fort here, and check on Trouble."

The men nodded.

"Death to each and every traitor aboard the carrier! Vive la Allemagne! Vive Herr Hitler!" They all chorused.