Alright, thanks to everyone who reviewed the trailer fic, and I hope you enjoy! Also, because we all have our preferences on who-we-imagine-as-who for each character, every chapter that a new character is introduced, I'll tell you who I imagine for each character.
Cast: Chapter 1;
Éponine: Samantha Barks (Who else could play it her so well?)
Azelma: Arianna Grande (She can sing well, both her and Sam have brown eyes, dimples, and curly hair, plus I just like her.)
Javert: Russell Crowe (I know a lot of you guys don't like him as Javert, but besides the movie all I have for a reference of Javert is some kid who played him in a Child Theatre group that my friend belongs to. Plus, come on, he can totally sing Stars like a freaking boss!)
Marshall/Patrick Pontmercy: Hal Sparks (Either I watch way too many Lab Rats or I'm desperate for someone to play this role. Either way, I always picture him.)
So, that's the cast list for this chapter, I'll tell you more of the Cast list as the story goes on.
DISCLAIMER: Only the OC's. I own nothing else!
June 6th, 2014. 182 years after the barricades…
Javert blinked his eyes open. He found this strange. He was dead. He should be in Hell. Or maybe Heaven. That was up to the Lord.
He had jumped. He had jumped off the bridge into the Seine. He had committed suicide. He should be dead.
So why was he still alive? More importantly, why did he feel perfectly fine? Even if he had jumped and survived, his body should've been screaming in near agonizing pain from the jump.
And even more important, why wasn't he wet? He had jumped in a river, he should be soaked to his bones!
"Mornin' sleepin' beauty." A female voice remarked dryly. Javert turned his head slightly to see a young girl-couldn't be older than sixteen-with curly red (A very bright red) hair, wide brown eyes that were currently narrowed at him, and lightly tanned skin. He took notice of the girl's clothing.
A tore up skirt with poorly sewn on patches littered across, an old chemise, probably a shawl, and a rag that was used to hold her hair back. She was a gamine.
He frowned. "I know you from somewhere."
"You should." The girl remarked as she propped herself up on her elbows, Javert took notice of the bandage across her arm. "You arrested me pa a few times. Gotta ask ya, Inspector, why didn't'cha keep 'im locked up?"
Although he has a suspicion of who this girl's father is, he still has to ask. "Who was your father?"
The girl looks at him in annoyance. "Thénardier." She spat. "I'm unfortunately his second kid."
"Second?"
"Yeah." The girl jerked her head to the side. Javert followed the motion and saw another girl (This time with dark brown curls) dressed as a boy lying asleep on a couch not too far from him. "My sister's 'is first."
Javert recognizes both the girls now. Both from the times he arrested them, one from the times passing her in the street, the other as the first to die at the barricades.
"She was the first to fall." He muttered.
"Yeah." The girl flopped back onto the bed unceremoniously. "Died savin' a boy who she fancied she loved, boy ran off with the first pretty blonde he saw. Tried savin' 'er, I did. Went to the wrong barricade an' got caught in t' cross fire. Last thing' I thought was 'Azelma, what the devils ya get yerself killed fo?' an' then I guess I died. Next thing I know, me broken arm's bein' set and some bloke put us all in here to rest."
Javert merely looked at this girl, Azelma she called herself. His frown deepened. "You died?"
He merely meant it as an observation-How could he and these two girls be living right now if they died?-but Azelma just scoffed and sent him a glare. "Thought you would've put two'n'two together. We died in 1832 if I'm correct. And before he left, I asked the bloke "Monsieur, if it ain't too much trouble, mind tellin' me the date?' and ya know what he said Inspector? Y'know what he said?" Javert shook his head. He didn't like where this was going. "He told me 'My dear child, it is June 6th, 2014'. Its 2014, Inspector! We've died and went nearly two hundred years forward in time!"
Javert blanched and turned away from the girl. This was impossible. There is no way he and these two girls had traveled forward in time. Things like that just didn't happen.
"Well, good to see two out of three are awake."
The two turned (The action caused both of them a great deal of pain) to see a man in his mid-forties with brown hair and eyes in black slacks and shoes wearing a shirt that was once white but now was looking more off-white. The man saw the pained faces of the two and frowned.
"Well, good to see you both are well enough to wake to feel pain."
"You're definition o' good an' min mus' be differen'." Azelma remarked dryly.
The man ignored her and set a tray filled with bowls of a steaming substance, spoons, cups of what looked like water, and odd, little colored… things. He turned to the Inspector as he did so. "How are you feeling, sir?"
"Well enough… All things considered."
The man smiled dryly before frowning once again. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just made you three Split Pea and Ham soup, and I have biscuits here to. Water for you to drink, and some pain medicine."
"You have medicine?" Javert asked.
"T' 'ell is Split Pea an' 'am soup?" Azelma asked.
"It's all I had to make that I thought you guys could stomach." The man replied. "I did find you three in the alley way after all… By the way, why were you guys in the alley way?"
Javert and Azelma exchanged nervous glances. Here they were, one hundred-eighty-two years in the future, in a room in God-Knows-Where, and now, they were being questioned of their origins. What could they say? What should they say?
"Uh… We're ain't sho. I think I speak fo t' both o' us when I say we don't 'member much of t' lass night." Azelma said.
"Well, it's partially true." Javert thought.
"Well, in that case-" The man started as he set a bowl of soup, a biscuit, a glass of water and the odd colored things (Which Javert assumed was medicine) next to the other sleeping girl, who was obviously Azelma's sister. "-You two should just try and get some rest, rebuild your strength and for God's sake eat! You young lady, are practically skin-and-bones!"
Azelma's only response was to send the darkest glare the man's way before begrudgingly taking a sip of water. The man turned to Javert. "Ok. Since she sort of scares me, I'm gonna rely on you to do me a favor. When she-" He pointed to the still sleeping girl. "-Wakes up, make sure she stays lying down, that bullet went straight through her hand to her shoulder. So, she'll be in a lot of pain."
"As appose' t' the two o' us?" Azelma bit out.
"The bullet went straight through your stomach, and he… well I'm not sure what happened to you, but I suggest that immediately after you eat you take these." The man handed Javert to little orange colored things. "It's pain medicine. It'll help."
"Thank you, Monsieur." Javert nodded.
Just as the man was about to leave, Azelma propped herself up on her elbows and asked "What's yo name?"
"My name?" The man asked. Azelma gave him an obvious look and nodded slowly. "Most people here call me Marshall."
"Where is here anyway?" Javert asked.
Marshall gave him an odd look. "New York City."
Azelma and Javert's eyes widened. "New York City?" Javert asked in shock.
"'ike t' one in 'Merica?" Azelma asked.
"We are in America." Marshall told them. Be started to walk away, but before he left he told them to "Eat up! Still nice and warm!"
As Javert lay there, eyes wide in sudden revelation at their location, Azelma turned and started to poke at the biscuit and observe the soup as if it would crawl out of the bowl.
"I can't believe it… I won't believe it… I shall not believe it!" Javert muttered.
"I don' know lots 'bout "proper language speak", but I thinks those mean basically t' sum thin'." Azelma told the Inspector distractedly, stirring her soup with a spoon.
"Mademoiselle-"
"Don' call me 'at! I ain't no lady! Either call me Azelma, 'Zelma, Whore, or whatever suits ya fancy. I couldn' care les!"
"Azelma-" Javert began again, annoyed. "We have not only died and gone a near two centuries into the future, but, we have also somehow managed to end up in America! I cannot even begin to phantom how this could even be possible!"
"Thin' we gots bigger problems, Inspector."
"Like what? What could possibly be worst then the situation we are in now?!"
Azelma tsk-tsked and shook her head. "Tempa, tempa, Inspector. I was only tryin' t' tell ya of what our menu 'as in sto fo' us." As she said this, Azelma lifted the spoon form her bowl and pored the contents of it back into the bowl, giving the Inspector a glimpse of the sickly green color of the surprisingly lumpy broth.
Both the girl and Javert wrinkled their noses at the sight. "I'd get up an' fro' it outs tat windo, but it ain't worth da effort."
"Effort?"
"Fo an Inspector, ya ain't t' bright, are ya?" Azelma asked. "I was shots straight through da chess. Bullet wen right throu me. Hurts like all Hell…"
Javert thought it would be best if he could offer the girl some sympathy, but judging by the way she was practically curdling the soup they were supposed to be eating just by merely looking at it, he thought against it.
"What barricade did you go to?" He asked instead.
"Whoa, ya musta hit yo head pretty hard before ya died" Azelma stated with mock concern. "Cuz ya startin' t' sound curious 'bout me."
"Well, I obviously I did not see you at the one I was stationed at. So, I was merely wondering." Javert finished lamely. Azelma may be nothing more than a filthy street rat with a sharp tongue, hauntingly observant gaze and iron will to her name, but damn even he was intimidated by her.
"Rue du Bout du Monde." Azelma answered quietly before turning her attention back to the still steaming bowl of "Soup" before her.
For a while (Fifteen minutes, assumed Javert), the two just lay there in relative silence. The only sounds that filled the room were the ticking of the clock, the other girl's steady breathing, and Azelma's spoon occasionally hitting against the side of her bowl as she jabbed her soup with it.
After a while, Javert heard grunts of pain and effort coming from the young girl. Turning over, he saw that she was attempting to pull herself into a sitting position. "What in the name of God are you doing?"
"Tryin' t' sit." Azelma answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Why?"
"I'm hungry. Fo once I gots food… I'm gonna eat!"
"You are actually going to eat that?"
"Well, befo now I never 'ad nothin' t' eat. An' now I do!" Azelma shrugged and pulled the bowl into her lap and stirred it lightly with her spoon. "'Sides, I already died… Gots nothin' else t' loose!"
Javert watched her with an honest respect. She was brave, he had to give her that. Anyone who would go to a barricade to save their sister, and then eat the most vile and rotten looking soup ever invented must be brave. Azelma dipped her spoon in, scooped, and lifted a spoon full of the green concoction (There was a lump of pink-ish-red that he assumed was some type of meat covered in the broth in the spoon as well) and just as she was about to take a bite, she turned to the Inspector and said "If I die 'gain, tell me sister I blame 'er."
Before he could even ask what she meant, she plopped the spoon into her mouth and plucked it out again. This time completely clean. Now, Javert was expected Azelma's face to turn the same shade of green as the soup, or for her to spit it out immediately, or just about anything really! Except for her to make a sort of humming sound as she swallowed and plopped more of the soup into her mouth, spoonful by spoonful.
"You… You actually enjoy it?" He asked, appalled at how truly desperate street rats like her were for food.
"T' green stuff ain't all tat bad, the meat melts in yo mouth, an' there are lil' slices o' carrots in here!" Azelma smiled. "Better tan it looks!"
Javert gave her an odd look. He was once a street rat like her, but that was a long time ago. "Even longer now" He thought. But since he had spent the last good thirty years of his (Very old!) life living in luxury as the Inspector of Paris, he thought he could afford to be a little bit pickier. But then he remembered that he was nearly two centuries ahead in time and in New York City and thought "Well, I did die… What've I to lose?"
After propping himself into a sitting position (Judging by the look she was giving him, Azelma was thinking exactly what he had said earlier) he pulled the bowl into his lap and carefully scooped a spoonful from it and lifted it into his mouth.
He hated to admit it, even only to himself, but the girl was right. The green broth tasted better than it looked and di well to warm his aching body, the meat tasted sweet and savory and melted in your mouth, and the carrots were sweet and easy to chew.
He nodded. "It will suffice."
Azelma snorted as she set her now empty bowl aside and grabbed the biscuit. "Can' give anyone anythin', can ya?"
Sounds of light moaning caught their attention, but they couldn't tell where it was coming from. "Ain't me. Is it you?" Azelma asked. Javert shook his head, as he did he caught site of a dark brown lump lying on a bed at the far wall.
"Oh… right…" Javert and Azelma forgot about Azelma's sister with all their bickering and experimental taste-testing.
Azelma's eyes widened. "'Ponine? Ya ok?"
Javert watched as the girl-'Ponine, apparently-blinked her eyes opened and lazily lifted her head. "Azelma… Is that you?"
Javert could tell that the girl wanted nothing more than to rush to her older sister's side, but the pain from her injury kept her from doing so. "'S me, 'Ponine! Are ya hurtin' too much? Wan' me t' get ya anythin'?"
The girl shook her head and frowned. "No… No I'm fine, Azelma… Where are we anyway?"
Javert noticed the difference in the two girls' comprehension of grammar immediately. While Azelma's diction spoke clearly of how well she was educated amongst those of the Parisian streets, her sister's diction was rather impressive for one of her background. As if the streets had no influence over her, aside from her ragged appearance. "New York, mademoiselle." He answered.
The girl looked at him for the first time since she had woken up and Javert was able to see what truly connected Azelma and this girl. Their eyes. They had the same dark brown irises, but Azelma's had a more angry light to it while this girl's held all the sadness of the world.
Said eyes widened in surprise. "Bu-But how? We were in Paris before-"
"We died?" Azelma offered. Noticing her sisters questioning gaze, Azelma lowered her head. "We died Éponine… I tried savin' ya, but… I came t' the wrong one…"
Éponine looked away and blinked rapidly, if Javert didn't know better, he'd say that she was blinking back tears. "B-But what about Marius?"
"Marius?"
"T' bloke she died tryin' t' save!" Azelma scoffed. "An' what 'bout 'im?"
"What if he died?"
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered waking up at the barricade-bound to a post-some man with a freckled face sobbing over Éponine's limb form, and Jean Valjean carrying someone through the sewers that resembled that man. Going out on a hunch, Javert quietly stated "I believe you don't have to worry, mademoiselle. Before I… passed on… I saw someone carrying him to a hospital. I'm not sure if he survived, but there was a chance…"
Éponine nodded before adding solemnly "Don't call me mademoiselle, Monsieur Inspector… Just Éponine, please."
"I thought I heard voices in here." Marshall smiled as he reappeared.
"Who are you?" Éponine asked Marshall warily.
"Name's Marshall, he saved our lives… Anythin' else ya want t' discuss?" Azelma asked.
"Actually-" Marshall interrupted. "I have something I want to say."
"Which is?" Javert prompted him to continue,
"I didn't know it was possible for people to time travel, how did you three manage such a feat?"
The three stared at each other in shock. How did Marshall find out? Azelma looked at him, surprisingly calm. "What'd ya mean, M'seiur?"
Marshall smiled knowingly at the three of them. "Well, when I found you three, this fell out of Azelma's pocket." He held up an old piece of paper. It was a News Paper, dated June 4th, 1832. "So, unless you all are historical actors who are truly dedicated to your parts, I figured you must be from that year."
The three were left in stunned silence. That was, until Azelma started to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Éponine asked her sister.
Azelma turned to her sister. "You know I can't read t'save me life! I don' know what I was carryin' that for!"
TBC…
Ok, originally there was gonna be more, but I'm running on a creativity low, plus Azelma just took up everything! I'm gonna have fun writing her! I'd appreciate reviews and some criticism about this story.
See ya next chapter!