notes: this is different than anything i have ever written, so hopefully it doesn't disappointed! it is based a little bit off of revolution, but the main issue isn't the electricity (although that was a side effect of the nuclear explosion). i have most of the story planned out, but i am always open to suggestions! i am also incredibly nervous about posting this, so any feedback and constructive criticism is more than welcome! i hope you like it (it will probably be around ten chapters) and if you have any serious questions, please ask!
the world wasn't always like this; unhappy and cold. i can remember moments when there was sun, when it kissed my body and tickled the soles of my feet, when i could wear shorts and feel the heat on my legs. but that was three years ago. and no one can really remember the sunlight now. no one can remember the time when they could turn on the television and forget the hardships or when they could walk to grocery store and taste an apple. because the nuclear explosion changed everything.
they say it was an accident. they say that it wasn't meant to happen, but there are some who believe otherwise. there are some who think it was meant to happen because the idea of power can push people to do unthinkable things. the patron-minette are in charge. and maybe they caused the explosion. or maybe they didn't. but they rule with iron and guns. they rule with fear and terror. they rule with the hardness of their hearts.
it's a war. it's a war against nature. against the frigid winds and the nonexistant vegetation. but it is also a war against humanity. against the patron-minette. against the people who have nothing to lose and need a loaf of bread. it's a war that everyone is destined to lose.
"what are we looking for again?" bahorel asks from behind a bush.
"food," jehan replies. food has been scarce as of late, and with the winter coming, everyone is out looking for new sources, or new fields to work.
"maybe it's time to move on."
they both turn at the sound of a sigh and boots crushing the leaves beneath their feet and see enjolras, his body covered in mud and grime. "jesus, enjolras. have you ever heard of a bath?" jehan and bahorel laugh and step out from their respective bushes (neither of them found anything that was edible).
as usual, enjolras ignores them, but the glimmer of a smirk can almost be seen. "we can't move on. it will be the same everywhere. we need to make do with what we have."
"there are one hundred people at the settlement. one hundred. and no food."
"there is food. not as much fruit as we would like, but we have the chickens and the cows. they were prepared for this."
"i can't live without raspberries, enjolras!"
bahorel lets out a bark of a laugh. "jehan, raspberries really aren't that good."
"yes they are-" jehan doesn't finish his defence of raspberries though. instead he is interrupted by the sound of horses on the dirt, shouts of men, and two individual gunshots.
of course its enjolras who snaps into action first, but jehan and bahorel take off after him, their legs carrying them back to the settlement. they don't know what is going on, but they haven't had the patron-minette visit them in months. and a visit from the patron-minette is never good.
montparnasse is the face they see, his mouth curved up in a small smirk that the three men know all too well. out of the patron-minette, he is the most lenient, and the one that they would prefer visit if the patron-minette did in fact decide to come. but beside him is thenardier, his mouth in a similiar smirk and eyes that make jehan shiver.
"what do you want?" enjolras takes three steps towards the wagon, his shoulders back and his posture impossibly straight.
"you know what we want, monsieur." it comes out as a snark; an insult and enjolras's jaw visibly tightens.
"how did you find us?" its joly who speaks up this time and takes the three steps towards them, standing beside enjolras, the two of them making a small barrier between the two members of the patron-minette and the civilians of their settlement.
the sound that comes out of thenardier's mouth makes the hair on the back of jehan's neck stick up straight. this is the man who raised eponine. eponine, the girl with wild hair and a body that could disappear when she wanted it to. there is a pang in his chest and he glances a look at combeferre because if he is thinking of eponine, then he knows without a doubt that combeferre is as well.
but he doesn't see any acknowledgement. combeferre stands still, a statue, but jehan knows that in a few more seconds he will stand beside enjolras.
and sure enough, he takes the steps and pushes his glasses back up to his eyes. "she isn't here." calm. combeferre is always calm and no one ever wonders why he is considered to be second in command, or why enjolras goes to combeferre when he is too riled up rather than any of the others. because combeferre balances out. he is the water that soothes the fire.
"what do you mean she isn't here?" montparnasse sounds incredulous. "she was always with you. she wouldn't leave you." montparnasse pauses, his smirk disappearing for a few seconds, until his lips curve again but with malice this time and he laughs; cold and cruel. "unless she left you."
its silent and a few beats past. no one speaks. no one even breathes until combeferre takes another step forward. "she is gone. you killed her."
"i may not have loved the brat, but i did not kill my daughter." thenardier scoffs in disbelief.
"you did. when you set off that bomb you didn't look to see if she was there. you didn't check to make sure she had stayed at the apartment like you told her to. she was with us. she was fighting with us. and then you set off the bomb."
darkness cloaks the buildings and nothing can be heard except for the owl that has made its home in the tree to the left of a cabin. nothing can be seen either. but someone is moving, her body snaking through the crevaces and her feet barely touching the ground.
she is the shadow.
no one knows who she is. and no one sees her because she is careful not to go out in the light. people want her. there is a bounty on her head, and in the dire times, everyone wants to be in on the patron-minette's good side. but she can't afford that.
she is dead.
or at least that is what her friends think. the friends who left her bloody and bruised on the sidewalk. the friends who touched her wrist and barely felt a pulse, but didn't stay long enough to watch her chest heave as she took a breath or her eyelids flutter as she woke up. no. they had left her. and with that, they had left the girl of who she once was.
she supposes that it is better this way though. that with her being dead, eventually her father will find out. which means eventually she will be able to go out on her own, in the light, without being afraid that she will be taken.
but for now she stays in the shadows, only going out at night, and taking what she can from the stores that don't lock their doors.
(they should know better than that)
she hears the whispers from inside the cabin the day after she has taken something and eventually she knows that she will be caught but in order to survive, one needs food. and it isn't just herself she is caring for.
it is the man she found with a mangled leg that she cares for.
she had found him when she had woken up, dust and dirt filling the air. she had tried to ignore him, everyone was moaning on the street if they weren't dead and she could only think of herself. but she had looked at him. seen his eyes plead with her, and she hadn't been able to leave him there. something about him had called to her humane side, the side that yearned to care for another human being since leaving gavroche and azelma and she had taken him under hear arm, given him her jacket, and found solice with the nuns who didn't care (or know) who she was. it was for him that she stole the bread.
as usual, he was awake, sitting at the table, fingers drumming the wood and his face lit up when he saw her walk in. she knew he didn't like what she did, that he would prefer she didn't steal. "i can go in the morning," he would say before she went out, and eventually, eponine had begun to leave while he was asleep, but he always woke up. (she blamed it on their loud as fuck door).
"i don't know how you do it, 'ponine," he says with a light hearted smile on his face. part of her wonders if he would ever get mad at her, if his face would ever darken and his arm rise above his head. but he hasn't. not yet. and maybe that's why she feels her heart lurch and a smiled spread across her own face.
"i'm a shadow." she dumps the bag with bread and a bit of meat on the table. fruits and vegetation are low. they have been low ever since the explosions but she has learned to live without salads and apples. (and no raspberries means she is able to forget about the group who left her for the dead).
montparnasse's frigid back almost crumbles and for a second, combeferre thinks he might even cry. he can't explain the anger that fills him for a second, and anger that doesn't fit his cool demeanor, but when montparnasse brings his shoulders back and narrows his eyes, the anger leaves and combeferre feels a bit more normal. for now.
"you cannot lie to us. we will find her. and if you won't give her to us, we will take her." not even a beat passes before monparnasse has moved to the wagon and two men that had been behind it come out with their guns out. enjolras barely has time to bring out his own gun before shots are fired and screams ring out in the air.
"get into the houses!" jehan exclaims, pushing as many people as he can into the buildings that had been left standing after the explosion. joly and courfeyrac join with him as the rest of the group try to protect the people they have come to love.
but they can't do enough and some are shot, their bodies crumbling to the ground and it reminds combeferre of the bombing, of eponine's body as she went limp and her head cracked on the pavement. it's almost too much, but the silence stops him.
the gunshots stop.
grantaire stands at the front of the cafe musain, gun raised, and is staring at the two bodies that have fallen. two bodies wearing red and the white PM on the collar. he can barely stand and sways dangerously until joly rushes towards him and takes the gun.
"you shot them." disbelief fills the air. disbelief that graintaire, the least likely to hit a target and the most drunk, killed tow of the patron-minette's army.
"they will come for us now," jehan says a bit sadly, his head lowered. no one can reply because they know that he is right. they will come back. and when they find out that they shot to kill, they will be taken.
"we are putting people in danger by being here. we knew that this would happen when we settled. it's time for us to move on." enjolras's voice is strong and when combeferre looks around, he realizes that those who had gone into their houses are out again and looking at them with curiosity.
"enjolras is right. we need to plan. we need to think. and we need to make sure these people are safe."
joly has now wrapped his arm around musichetta, but she shakes him off. "if you go, so do we." but no one steps forwards with her, no one moves from their doorstep, and her face looks crestfallen. her act of heroism hasn't inspired.
but a blonde does step up beside her and laces her fingers with musichetta. combeferre has never actually spoken to her but knows her name. cosette. friend to musichetta. and apparently someone who is willing to follow them blindly.
joly speaks to the two girls in hushed voices but they shake their heads. "we are going with you."
it takes them longer than combeferre and enjolras would have liked to get their stuff together and to leave the settlement, but its not because of musichetta and cosette.
it's because neither grantaire or joly wanted to leave behind their art.
but eventually they set off, guns holstered to their hips and bags slung over their shoulders. they have a plan. they know where their final destination is. but they need somewhere to plan their attack. they have suspicions that the nuclear explosion wasn't an accident and that the man deemed responsible was never actually guilty. but that is a hard thing to prove. and with the patron-minette watching everybody's every move, they need to find somewhere safe to figure out their attack plan.
combeferre isn't sure how long they walk for in silence, or how long grantaire has gone without a drink, but they find themselves at the outskirts of paris, the city that had once been their homes, and an overwhelming sense of grief fills combeferre.
they stand in silence, staring at the buildings, the ruins, the cold cloud of dust that blocks the sun from really shining through and mourn those who were lost; the ones who didn't stand a chance. if it wasn't the initial explosion that killed, it was the radiation. and if it wasn't the radiation, is was the aftermath. it was the gunwounds, the knife wounds, the fight for their lives when food became short that killed. they are in a war.
and it isn't going to end anytime soon.
together, they decide to avoid the interior of the city (even now it would be dangerous) and instead move to the left. the chances of them finding an unoccupied building now is slim, but it is possible. and they do find a house, with its lights off and no sign of life.
combeferre is the one who steps forwards, the one who is willing to be the first there if someone is in fact inhabiting the small cabin, but before he can take more than two steps, a woman steps out of the house, gun raised.
her hair is wild, whipping in the wind and she looks too small to even be alive. she isn't wearing a coat, and by the way she avoids shivering, combeferre is almost certain that she hasn't seen a coat in a few months.
but it isn't the gun pointed at his heart that forces the adrenaline to rush through his veins; its the eyes of the woman he thought to be dead.