Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire knew he was facing his death, but he was tired of being the quiet, timid boy that his friends had always known. Plucking up his courage, he stepped out of the alleyway behind the soldiers. "Long live France!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, attracting their attention and aim. "Long live the revolution!" He had barely gotten the last word out when he felt the lead slugs slam into his chest. He smiled at his horrified friends, and blacked out, only slightly aware of the surprisingly dull pain the bullets had made on impact. That pain faded as quickly as his vision and the world around him did. 'So this is what death feels like,' he thought. 'It really is like going to sleep.'

"Ally! Ally, you've gotta get in here!"

"Ugh, this better not be another one of your stupid brain-sucking alien pranks, Dez," the slim, dark-haired girl warned, getting up from her piano and following her crazy friend out into the main part of the Sonic Boom. "What do you-" Her eyes widened when she saw the unconscious young man on the floor. "Oh...oh, my God...! Dez, what did you do to this poor guy?!" She knelt beside him, examining him to find the cause of his unconsciousness.

"I didn't do anything! I just turned away for a second, and when I turned back, he was there!"

"Yeah, right. In any case, we need to get him into the back room, try and make sure he's comfortable when he wakes up. Help me carry him!" Dez reluctantly did as he was told, and helped Ally carry the boy into the back room and settle him on the couch.

"He looks so weird...his hair's braided, and he's wearing really old clothes, like from that Lay Miz Rahb movie you like so much. Maybe he's a cosplayer, or something."

"It's better than some of the stuff I've seen on you, Dez. At least he's not sporting a 'Team Ally' t-shirt!"

"Hey! I worked really hard on that!"

"Ugh, mon Dieu..." Both teens were startled when the mystery guy stared up at them groggily. "Où suis-je? Pourquoi suis-je pas mort?!" He suddenly sat bolt upright, frantically patting his chest as if looking for something. "Pas de trous? Mais j'ai été touché au moins trois fois...!" He looked back and forth between the two bewildered teens. "Et qui êtes-vous?!" They just stared at the boy, not understanding a word he said.

"U-um, excuse me..?" Ally asked, deciding to be the brave one. The boy's eyes widened, but he nodded and switched to English.

"Forgive me. I said, 'Where am I, and who are you?'"

"Actually, I don't blame you. As for your questions, you're in the Sonic Boom, in Miami, and I'm Ally. The goofy coppertop is my friend, Dez."

"Ah, bonjour. I am Jean Prouvaire, but you may call me Jehan. Hmm? Ally..?" he said, growing worried when the girl began to slowly back away from him, eyes wide with horror. "What's wrong...?"

"N-no way...There's no way you're really here, right now. I-I mean, y-you're dead...! And not real...!"

"Ah. I should've known I would not escape my demise at the barricade. It seems this is a strange fantasy my poet's mind has created to ease the pain of dying."

"Dude, if this is all in your head, then I'm having the same crazy dream. I gotta quit drinking soda before I go to bed!"

"Same with me...and I can't keep watching Les Miserables until one in the morning..."

"Okay, Ally, that explains why why you haven't been able to write any songs, lately. OMG! WHAT IS JEHAN DOING BACK HERE?!" Trish asked, squealing when she saw the blond revolutionary. Jehan jumped back a bit, startled by her sudden loudness. "Did you finally find a way to bring him out of the book?!"

"No!"

"What? I don't understand, how would I have come out of a book...?"

"Uh...long story," Ally said evasively.

"Look, what's the last thing you remember?"

"I...I was being executed by the National Guardsmen..." His eyes suddenly lit up. "Am I in Heaven?"

"No...You're in Miami, Florida, in the United States of America. What was the date?"

"Er, June 5, 1832."

"Today is June 5, 2013."

"WHAT?!"

"You're nearly two centuries into the future," Trish said in awe.

"But...how?! I should have died with my friends, defending the barricade!" The young man had tears rolling down his cheeks, now. "What will become of Paris? How will we rid France of tyranny?"

"Jehan...France is a republic, now. They aren't ruled over by a cruel king, anymore. Your friends didn't die in vain," Ally said kindly, gently laying a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He closed his eyes and leaned into her, and she put her arms around him, holding him like she would hold a child who had just had a terrible nightmare. "It's alright. Everything is alright, now. You don't have to worry about the barricade. We're going to take care of you."

"Merci, Ally," Jehan murmured in reply, finally looking up at her with baby blue eyes that were still filled with tears. She slowly wiped away the tears that had already fallen onto his cheeks, and he gave her a small smile.

"Ally? Who's the new guy...?" They both turned to look up at another blond boy, about the same age as Ally, who looked almost insulted by Jehan's appearance. The older blonde quickly clammed up and refused to look like he felt.

"Jean Prouvaire," he said calmly. "You may call me Jehan."

"Oh. I'm Austin Moon." The younger boy walked over and offered a friendly handshake.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Austin." Jehan smiled and accepted the handshake.

"Same here, bro. Just don't use my partner as your therapist again, 'kay?"

"Partner..?"

"Yeah. Ally and I write songs and sing together."

"That's great! I write poetry, and play the flute," Jehan replied with a genuine grin, forgetting his sadness almost completely.

"Hey, maybe you could help us!" Austin grinned back, followed by Ally.

"Yeah! I haven't been able to write any good lyrics for weeks, and Austin's looking for a new hit song to start off his latest album! What do you say?"

"W-well...alright, that sounds like fun!"

Ok, Translation time!

Jehan's questions: "Where am I? Why am I not dead? No holes? But I was hit at least three times...! And who are you?"