A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed that prologue! I promise, the real story gets going very soon! R&R!

One
You know how this ends.
There's nothing you can do to change it, so make peace with it now.
Ready your hands for the callus, shred the cloth for bandages, prepare the rosaries.

Chapter One

Enjolras had always known how this would end.

He knew there was nothing he could do to change it, and he made peace with it long before it had even begun.

It took him hours, agonizing on how to say it, but when he knew he wanted to lead the revolution in Paris, he finally gathered the courage to pick up the phone. He called his family in Bordeaux and told them to prepare for his death – he told them not to mourn him, but to prepare the rosaries for his funeral mass, and for his friends. His father was furious; his mother refused to be pessimistic, and his sisters begged him to come home.

Enjolras himself, on the other hand, knew he was going to die. The clock was ticking for him, and soon, it would stop forever.

But he didn't care, because it was for the love of his Patria.

Éponine had always known how this would end.

She knew there was nothing she could do to change it, but she never managed to make peace with that fact.

When she knew there was going to be a revolution, she composed too many desperate Facebook messages to all of the Amis that would never be sent to any of them, begging them to think for once, to consider their own lives before their country. Before hitting Delete, she pleaded with them to stay home, to try their best to keep their discontent to themselves.

Because in truth, she was nothing without her friends, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing them all.

Combeferre had always known how this would end.

He knew there was nothing he could do to change it, and did his best to make peace with it before it began.

When he decided to take part in the revolution, he did what Enjolras had done – read and read and read and read and read. He studied medicine at university, but all of the Amis saidhe was a philosopher at heart. He read the works of the philosophes, Locke, Paine, and even Franklin – anything he could get his hands on. If he wasn't reading a medical textbook, he was reading philosophy. Before long, the Amis were calling him their second face, the embodiment of their philosophy.

He knew, discussing with Enjolras and listening to his plans, that they were all going to die.

And he knew he would never get to tell Ép that he loved her.

Courfeyrac had always known how this would end.

He knew there was nothing he could do to change it, and he made peace with it before it began.

When he, Combeferre, and Enjolras first got the Amis together in the name of rebellion, he had a sick premonition that things wouldn't go well for them. Enjolras had always been a little insane, but this was pure crazy talk – barricades? Stockpiling? Philosophy? What had gotten into him?

All Courf knew was that he was going to lose his life for the Patria.

Gavroche had always known how this would end.

He knew there was nothing he could do to change it, but being nine years old, neither could he make peace with it.

When the Amis recruited him to be a spy, he couldn't have been more thrilled. Ép – good ol' Ép – had recommended him to Enjolras, who then requested to meet him and approved. Gavroche had then gotten together a group of his school friends, who lived in the elephant in the middle of Paris, to help him help the Amis.

Little Gav, for all his youth, was quite wise.

Grantaire had always known how this would end.

He knew there was nothing he could do to change it, and he made peace with it long before the revolution began.

When he joined the Amis, he didn't care about – or even understand – anything Enjolras ever said. He went to the Café Musain for the beer, and just to admire the man he idolized, adored. He never truly believed in the revolution, but he had always believed in Damien-Henri Enjolras, more than he had ever believed in anything.

All Grant knew was that he was going to lose him.

Joly had always known how this would end.

He knew there was nothing he could do to change it, and he made peace with it before it had begun.

When he joined the Amis, he was sure he would die. It tore him up for a long time, knowing exactly what it would do to his girlfriend, Muschietta – he'd break her heart when he left her behind. He wanted to propose to her more than anything, but it seemed pointless with this end so near.

All Joly knew was that he would die for the Patria, and leave Muschietta to mourn him.