June 7, 1832

Chapter 1: The Turn of the Tide

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Victor Hugo's characters, or anything originally from the novel Les Misérables. I do, however, own all the original characters that are to come, including the government and political figures, save for King Louis-Philippe. All of the events described here after the June Rebellion of 1832 are purely fictional.

"There was assault after assault. The horror continued to increase. Then resounded over this pile of paving-stones, in this Rue de la Chanvrerie, a struggle worthy of the walls of Troy. These men, wan, tatterred, and exhausted, who had not eaten for twenty-four hours, who had not slept, who had but a few more shots to fire, who felt that their pockets empty of cartridges, nearly all wounded...became Titans. The barricade was ten times approached, assaulted, scaled, and never taken...the façade of Corinthe, half demolished, was hideous."

-Victor Hugo, Les Misérables.

"The heavy guns are returning!" Enjolras yelled to his comrades, his voice hoarse from hours of shouting. "Pick off the cannoneers, quick!"

A few feeble shots rang out from the barricade, which only succeeded in slowing down the cannon' procession. It and its twin were moved into place, and the National Guard hurried to stuff it with powder.

Marius would have stopped them, but he had no gun. He'd lost it in the carnage hours ago. Now, almost a day after the real fighting at Rue de la Chanvrerie had begun, he had nothing but a fragmented sword and his fists. He was powerless to hold them back once more.

"I told you when this began!" The commander of the National Guard shouted at the students. "I told you that the cannons would end you! You've succeeded in holding out against the smaller balls, yes; but how about now?"

He gave some orders to his lieutenants, who immediately began loading the cannons with a supply of much larger cannonballs that used before.

"I have not yet heard that the barricade on the Rue du Saint-Jacques has surrendered." The commander said smugly. "How tragic it is that you will be the first to fall."

Marius looked around him, and was gratefully surprised to discover that all of his friends were still standing, albeit disheveled and bloody. But they were still alive, at least. Enjolras, sword in hand, stood by Courfeyrac and Grantaire, while Julien Grosjean, Feuilly and Bahorel made a defensive ring on the steps of the barricade.

He pulled Julien aside. "Where are the others?"

"Inside." He said curtly, and pointed to his family's wine-shop, the Corinthe.

"That's not what I meant. Who are the wounded?"

"Joly and Combeferre were fine last I saw them out here. They've had a more trying day than all of us: fixing bullet-wounds one moment and delivering them the next. When I was last off duty, I noticed that Bossuet was in there as well: bullet to the left shoulder. He'll live, don't worry. My parents and Madame Thenardier are doing their best to comfort the wounded. Azelma's with her brother, I think."

"And Éponine?" Marius asked tenaciously.

"Alive. That's all I can report."

"So she's still in her coma."

"I'm afraid so."

Marius sighed. Two days ago, Éponine Thenardier had told him that she loved him. They must have both known he could never reciprocate her feelings, because he'd told her that same day that he was bound to marry Cosette Fauchelevent instead. Cosette...

She'd been his one comforting thought throughout this living hell. The knowledge that he would see her again, be with her, marry her even; that was what had kept him going.

But that comfort couldn't do much for him now.

Éponine had almost died saving him from a soldier's gunshot. His friend, Jean Prouvaire, had been captured during the night of battle, and no one knew whether he still lived. And now, Marius Pontmercy and all of Les Amis de l'Abaisse were about to blown apart by the National Guard's cannons.

He looked at Julien. "You know we're going to die, right?"

"I do."

"Any regrets? I'm just curious."

"A few. I never made peace with my father for what I said to him yesterday. I never went back to my house in Nantes like I hoped I would. I never even got to see the end of our revolution, though I'm not sure I want to."

He nodded. "Sometimes, it is only before our deaths we discover what we wanted most in life." He told Julien.

His friend smirked. "Who said that?"

"I did. Just now, in fact."

Julien laughed. "You could have become a philosopher." He held out his hand. "Would you do me the honor of dying with me, Pontmercy?"

Marius took it. "The honor's all mine, Grosjean." He raised their hands high, and yelled "Vive La France!"

"Vive La France!" Echoed the students.

The commander snorted. "You revolutionists and your chants." He motioned to the artillery captain. "I want this spot gone, Pierre. More than that; execrated. Let no man say that he remembers the rebellion of 1832."

The captain nodded, and aimed the cannons directly at the barricade. Marius thought that he could hear Julien softly humming "La Marseillaise" beside him. He wondered if he would die of the cannonballs, the flying debris, or the inevitable bayonets of the National Guard.

He tried to imagine Cosette's face, and when he couldn't, it chilled him to the bone that he would die without remembering what she looked like.

Two seconds before the captain lit the spark, a courier came flying into the Rue de la Chanvrerie, his face flushed and sweaty. "Monsiuer! News from the Hôtel de Ville!"

"What is it?"

"It's been overrun by the insurgents, monsieur!"

The commander's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? How could the men at Rue du Saint-Jacques have-"

"I'm not talking about the men of Saint-Jacques, monsieur. If anything, they're having a rousing time beating back your reinforcements, and have no wish to leave their barricade. The Hôtel is now under the control of ordinary Parisian citizens, as well as the Palais-Royal, the Place de la Bastille, the Palais de Justice and a dozen other places. They've risen up in their thousands, just as the insurgents said they would! It's like 1830 all over again! We're receiving reports from the suburbs that peasants from the provinces are flocking to Paris, eager to fight. His Majesty, Louis-Philippe, has ordered an armistice with the two resisting barricades. I've been sent from the Hôtel to give you this missive I carry. It says that you must stop this siege, monsieur."

The commander just stared at the messenger, dumbstruck. He looked at his cannons, then the barricade, then back to the man. He cleared his throat. "Is there anything to this missive? Something to detail the armistice?"

"There is. Take only one of the two, I have to deliver the other to Saint-Jacques."

The commander took a sheet of paper from the courier's saddlebag, scanned his eyes over it for a minute, and pocketed it. "Very well. Godspeed, monsieur."

"Godspeed." The courier kicked his horse with his boot, and sped off down the road. The commander turned his attention back to the barricade. "Who among you is leader?" He called out.

"I am!" Enjolras exclaimed.

"You heard what the Hôtel's messenger said?"

"Yes, I did."

The commander cleared his throat once more. "My new orders are that a proper ceasefire is to be called."

"How, may I ask?"

"One of my subordinates will enter the barricade, declare the terms and begin."

"So, I won't be speaking with you, commander?"

"I? No. I am called to the Palais de Justice, to oversee its surrender." He almost choked on the word "surrender", as though he wasn't accustomed to using the word when talking about himself.

"I would be happy to talk peace with your man." Enjolras politely responded, and Marius noticed how he was trying to mask his pleasure and relief. "Although, I would feel safer if those cannons were no longer aimed at my barricade."

The commander opened his mouth, then closed it, and nodded. He ordered the cannons dispatched, and brought forward a middle-aged soldier in a lieutenant's uniform.

"This is Lieutenant Saunier." He told Enjolras. "He is a worthy man, and I expect him to be treated as an honorable citizen of France when he is with you."

"You have my word he will not be harmed." Enjolras promised.

The commander nodded again, and handed his man the writ, mounted a horse, and sped off in the direction of the Palais de Justice. His lieutenant, Saunier, walked cautiously to the front of the barricade, his hat in his hands. Enjolras ordered the barricade opened, and Saunier entered, to the startling sight of ten pistols pointed at his face.

"Stop that!" Enjolras scowled. "This man has come to talk, not fight. Put your guns away."

They reluctantly did so, and as a show of good faith Saunier removed his pistols from his belt as well.

"Show me the orders, monsieur." Enjolras said.

Saunier grudgingly obeyed, and gazed hard at Enjolras as he read. "I hope you like what you see on that paper, boy. You may well get the republic you've bled so much for, but I assure you; there will be more blood before this is over."