This a 'the day after tomorrow' AU. If you haven't seen it, I RECOMMEND IT. I was literally on the edge of my seat the entire movie. Besides, young Jake Gyllenhall is a total babe.
Anywho, as most of my newer fics do, I have my own headcannons for some things! Unfortunately, my fav (femme!feyrac) was not added :(
a) Jean Valjean is Morgan Freeman
b) The Thernardier family is latino
c) femme!feuilly/azelma
okayyyyy so there's a lot of sciency stuff in this. This chapter will be the sort of precedence to the second and then the third will be the aftermath. Sooo yeah.
Valjean enjoys his work; it allows him time to himself without having to interact too often with the other government scientists. He is slightly terrified that one of them will dig up his past as a hippie-esque anti-science protester. However, at the moment there is a bigger fear. As he goes to the white house for his meeting with vice president Javert, he clutches his briefcase.
How is one to tell the world that it has been discovered how the earth's next great phase will come about?
"Valjean," Javert greets him on the steps. Cordially, the two men shake hands. Valjean is lead inside and to Javert's office. "As always, a pleasure."
"I'm here to discuss global warming," Valjean begins. Javert's already stiff face hardens.
"You may as well leave right now," Javert snapped. "That foolishness is just that… foolishness."
"Don't you know how the last ice age began, Mr. Javert?" Valjean stands up to allow his dominance over the red-haired man. Now that he has considerable leverage, Valjean notes that Javert's age may not show in his face or complexion, but he is balding. "It began due to the melting of the polar ice caps. Global warming-"
"Bullshit!" Javert stands as well. "How can an ice age be caused by global warming?"
"The melting of the ice caps sent fresh water into the ocean. See, maritime salination must be kept at a delicate balance, otherwise the climate of the world is affected by natural disasters, eventually resulting in an ice age," Valjean is momentarily pleased when Javert seems to think it over for a few moments.
"I don't need to hear any of this. Good day, Mr. Valjean,"
With that, Valjean is dismissed.
"You can't bring that dog in here," the officer steps in front of Gavroche, who looks up with defiance in his eyes.
"It's a public library!" He snaps. At the boy's side, Granterrier whimpers. Gavroche soothes his dog's head and dejectedly leaves the building. Outside the rain comes down almost gently, kissing the city. The dog is named for Gavroche, Éponine and Azelma's cousin Grantaire, who actually resembles the terrier to a certain extent.
"Sorry about that, Terri," Gavroche says in a puppy voice. "They just don't understand us."
The dog's dumb brown eyes blink back up at him. Gavroche smiles a smile that is missing several teeth. His tongue tickles one of the holes as he gives his dog the same look that is hitting him.
"Gavroche!" Azelma's voice comes from nowhere. "Come on, we volunteered to help set up the History conference!"
"Yeah, yeah, I remember." Gavroche sulked. "How come we have to set up for these rich kids?"
"'Ponine is one of those kids," Azelma scolds. Gavroche shrugs.
"But she ain't rich," he points out. His sister frowns, her sulky face cut into unattractive lines and shadows. Her dark hair is frizzy around her head, and Gavroche's only slightly lighter hair is probably not much better.
"Yeah, don't remind me," Azelma snaps. "Now, come on. And leave Granterrier."
"Aw, do I have to?" He complains. Azelma rolls her eyes.
"Yes," her voice is curt but gentle at the same time. "Did you really think that they'd let a dog into a fancy private school?"
Gavroche sulks. "No," he looks back at the simpering dog. "See you later buddy. Go!"
On cue, the dog scampers off to rummage around the city until Gavroche comes back for him.
"Is this true?" Valjean's usually gentle demeanor is stormier. Fantine hears it over the phone and sighs.
"Yes it's true. I'm assuming the meeting with the vice president didn't go too well?"
"No, it didn't, but that is not the main issue. Does Cosette really have an F? In calculus?" Valjean asks incredulously. Fantine looks over to where her pretty daughter is spooning yogurt into her mouth and reading something on her phone.
"She's a teenager, Jean. They're not always perfect, you know," Fantine chastises. "I certainly wasn't."
"Yes, I know. That is why we're having this issue in the first place," Valjean said. "Look, Fantine, I don't expect her to be perfect, but Cosette is an all A student. Why would she suddenly fail a class, least of all one she excels in without effort?"
"I don't know, you can talk to her when you bring her to the airport," Fantine reminds him.
"Right. For her AP History field trip to New York?" Valjean asks. Fantine nods, forgetting for a moment that her husband cannot see her.
"Yes, that's the one. You'll be there?"
"Yes, of course."
"I hate you," Éponine scowls, slamming the chair into its place against the table. The boy a few tables away from her does the same, frowning. His hair is slicked back and he wears a crisp suit.
"You've said that three times already," Enjolras points out. Éponine mocks him with her lips without making anything sound except for an annoying whine. He scowls at this. "Oh, shut up."
"It's true," she shoots back. "And anyway, you already graduated. Why are you here again?"
"I'm a history major," Enjolras rolls his eyes. "I get extra credit helping out here. Your principal is an NYU alumni."
"Yeah, I know, he says it enough," Éponine mutters. "I can't wait for you to go back to your precious little college," she snaps.
"And I can't wait to go back," he hisses. They end up much closer than when they began, their noses practically touching. When they become aware of their close proximity, they leap away.
"I don't know what Grantaire sees in you," Éponine seethes.
"Where is he, by the way? Shouldn't he be here too?"
"He's visiting our Abuela in México city," she says. "He was pretty pissed that you didn't say goodbye,"
"Look, your cousin has lots of potential but he wastes it on drinking," Enjolras sighs. "I don't know how he thought I would react at th—"
"At his confession of love? Yeah, he didn't see that coming."
"Miss Thérnardier? Mister Enjolras? Are you two quite done? We need someone to help set up the name plates," Éponine's teacher calls. She raises her hand.
"I'll do it, perhaps a change of company would be… ideal," as she leaves, she casts one more scathing look at Enjolras. He makes a face right back.
"I haven't seen this much rain in ages," Azelma comments, taking a deep inhale of the cigarette. She stands comfortably under an awning, very much aware of the handsome boy that stands next to her. He is dapper in a new tuxedo, the fabric of which conceals his gutter origins. His green eyes sparkle as they take a good look at the rain.
"Something's coming," he comments. Montparnasse snatches the stick from the girl's fingers and takes another inhale. "Don't know what it is, but it's going to be big."
"What do you predict?" Azelma asks with limited curiosity. Montparnasse purses his lips and throws the cigarette to the ground. The glowing tip is dimmed upon contact with the wet ground. He grinds what remains into the pavement with the heel of his loafer.
"A disaster," a sadistic smile spreads across his face, "Lord knows we need something soon, there are too many people in New York."
Azelma scoffs. "You're morbid. Are we going to pick up girls or what?"
"Sure," Montparnasse looks at the sky one more time before turning to his childhood friend. "Let's go."
"Marius, breathe. The chances of a plane going down because of turbulence are like one in a trillion. Or is it mi—"
"Shut up, Courfeyrac," Cosette hisses. One of her hands goes to Marius's arm in comfort. The boy is stiff in his chair, clutching his hands in his lap. "It's going to be fine, Marius," she tells him soothingly.
He looks over to her and smiles gratefully. Cosette feels her heart flutter. Just then, the plane hits another pocket of rough air and their world begins to shake. The lights flicker on and off, and Cosette can hear a child sobbing from somewhere far behind her. Terrified, Marius's hands shoot to his armrests, one of his hands trapping Cosette's. He presses her hand into the armrest and she presses back, breathing evenly.
Even Courfeyrac is tense beside her, but she manages to stay calm, watching the chaos on the plane. As soon as the air smoothes out, their oxygen masks drop in front of them, causing Marius and Courfeyrac to jump in surprise.
"Everything's fine," Cosette assures them. "Now can I have my hand back?"
Marius pulls his hand away hurriedly. His face is set alight with a rosy glow. "Sorry," he murmurs. Cosette withholds a laugh. He is adorable when he is flustered.
"See, Marius?" Courfeyrac leans across her lap. "One in a trillion."
Cosette snaps her head towards him. "Courfeyrac, shut up!"
"Woah," Favourite says with wonder as she looks at the map. "This is huge. Call Tholomyes! We need to issue a tornado warning."
"Really? Here?" her coworker asks.
"Yes, now please." Favourite waits with her hand held out until there is a ringing phone placed there. "Tholomyes, issue a warning right now."
Her boss's voice is tired. "For what?"
"Tornado," she says in a clipped voice. "It's a huge storm mass headed straight for downtown."
"Right. I'll be sure to do that," on his end of the phone, there is suddenly a loud static noise. Wincing, Favourite moves the phone away from her ear. "Holy shit!" she hears her boss curse. "Was that an earthquake too?"
"Hey, Favi, the seismometer's going crazy!" her coworker shouts. Favourite curses.
"Yep," she tells him. "We've got an interesting night tonight in Los Angeles."
A man in Tokyo looks up at the sky. A piece of hail falls from the sky with vengeance, striking his head and killing him instantly, much to the horror of a child watching from a window.
In Paris, a woman slides on ice. Her heels break as she falls and looks with shock at the early freeze.
In the British Isles, snow is dumped on the island. Fauchelevant, a professor, sits in his little station by the sea, a phone in hand. His old eyes are peeled on the screen in front of him, and a number comes to mind along with a name and with that name a familiar kindly brown face.
His old friend's words spring to mind, a flitty little factoid that Valjean told him during their last phone call. "Fauchelevant, did you know that the ice age was caused by global warming? The melting of polar ice caps sent cold fresh water into the seas, causing the salination level to skew drastically, sending the world into chaos."
"Hello?" Valjean's warm voice crinkles over the speaker.
"It's happening," Fauchelevant whispers.
"What is?"
"Three buoys have registered a drop in ocean temperatures by the poles. A whole thirteen degrees within 24 hours. Jean—"
"But, I didn't predict it to happen for another hundred years or so!" Valjean sounds horrified, but Fauchelevant is filled with grim acceptance.
"You'd best prepare, old friend." With that, Fauchelevant hangs up.
Please review! I don't bite, I promise :)