CHAPTER 1: The Aid and the Escape
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March, 1940, Stalla Front, Finland
The white of the man's camouflage overalls were slowly turning red, parts of it was blown off by the hand grenade, covering his fellow comrades in snow, ice and dirt. Enjolras felt his blood boil. The bullets were still flying, and he could faintly hear Courfeyrac's shouts for him over the ringing that the explosion had left in his ears.
The bullet rain stilled, and he charged, jumping out of the trench and rolling to a nearby tree, snatching some ammo from the dead soldier next to him. His name was Pål, and he had been a sailor before he was sent to the front. His senses flooding with the memories of the few nights of jokes and stories, with Pål leading the laughter, he could vaguely comprehend what Courfeyrac was shouting;
"Enjolras! Fall back! Go, leave me, go!" But he blindly charged on, fighting hard to cock his gun as it had jammed in the freezing cold, but with pure, stubborn force of will and adrenaline he finally managed. He exhaled, steeling himself before he ran, without cover, over the no man's land towards the enemy trenches, shooting all the way.
January 1941, Ullevål Hospital, Oslo, Norway
«Excuse me sir, you are at Ullevål Hospital, you have a bad concussion, a broken leg and some internal bleeding, please remain calm." He could hazily make out a face. It was a pretty face, soft features underneath a blond fringe, the girl was wearing a nurse's hat. It took a few seconds to register what she'd said. He was in a hospital, because he'd jumped out of the window, which he did because-
"How- how m-many?" he choked out, grabbing her wrist as she made her way towards the door.
"Excuse me," she looked confused, "I don't-"
"Guards. How many?" he managed to say, his throat was hurting like hell, but he needed to get some answers.
She cast a look over her shoulder before she bent down, pretending to fix his sheets in case someone were to look in.
"Five, two by the door and three down the hall, and a few more outside the exits. They are all armed" She was very calm, and it made everything easier for him, he found he trusted her already.
"What is your name?"
"Cosette."
"Cosette, it's a nice name, where are you from Cosette?"
She blushed slightly, "Bergen." He should have guessed, her accent gave it away from the first sentence.
"I've never been there." He smiled, needing for her to like him. She smiled back.
"Are there a lot of Patriots there?" he asked.
"Oh yes."
"Do you think you could get them a message?"
They heard footsteps coming down the hall towards them. Cosette grabbed his hand and frantically whispered that his doctor had some contacts and they would do whatever it took to help him out of there.
That night she returned with his supper, she was acting weak and timid as she passed the guards with his tray and humbly bowed out, the moment they closed the door behind her, he lifted the napkin to reveal a note and some clippers.
"Extraction at 0400, out the window. Courf at Grini"
He quickly ate the note and hid the clippers in his sheets.
At midnight he overheard the policeman, Javert, harassing the doctor. He had heard of Javert. All the months of propaganda were spent looking over his shoulder for Javert and his men.
"Doctor Valjean, I request to take this prisoner immediately. We need to question him before his execution."
"The patient cannot be moved, his internal bleeding won't allow it. To move him will be to kill him, before his cross-examination. He will need to stay here for at least two weeks, four at the most, before you take him to Victoria Terrasse."
Javert huffed, muttered "we'll see about that," and marched off down the hall.
Enjolras glanced through the gap in the door, catching the doctor's eye. Valjean said nothing, simply handed a chart to Cosette, and continued his rounds.
Ten to four in the morning, you could hear moans and groans coming from his floor, clipping the thin cast on his leg and the bindings confining him to his bed was harder than he imagined, and even though he had given himself 20 minutes, he was barely halfway done when the first ten had ticked by. The sound of boots marching towards him, the recognisable ones that he knew belonged to Javert was the only thing that deterred him from his escape.
He stilled his actions, hurriedly putting down his clippers and feigning sleep.
Javert entered the room not a second later and closed the door behind him. Enjolras wondered how long he would be standing there, cursing the man as he did not seem to move, as he was messing with the schedule, while at the same time being grateful that Javert did not bother walking around his bed, where his escape attempt was on full display.
After a few more antagonizing seconds, Javert lit a cigarette. Seizing his chance, Enjolras faked a coughing fit, half way rolling over and covering the clippers with his sheets.
Cosette was suddenly at his side, fluffing his pillows and propping him up as she patted him on the back.
"Would you mind taking that outside?" she did not say please.
Javert huffed, but after one last stubborn drag of his cigarette, he finally left. Enjolras stopped coughing at once, telling Cosette to leave as he resumed his feeble escape attempt.
"No. He'll just come back." She started unfastening the binds on his other side and unhooking his broken leg from the holster. "You'll never make it on your own."
She practically pushed him towards the window, and when he had managed to get it open and was removing the boards, she suddenly grabbed his shoulder.
"Hit me."
"What?"
"Hit me."
"No! I'm not hitting you, Cosette!"
"Hit me, or they'll think I was in on it."
Enjolras weighed his options for half a second before he cupped her face, bringing his lips to her eyelid, before he backed away and replaced the touch of his gentle kiss with a punch that would make Courfeyrac proud.
He spared a second of thought for the brave nurse Cosette, the poor soul he'd probably doomed to months in captivity for aiding his escape.
He later found out both Cosette and doctor Valjean were taken prisoners. They were sent to Grini.
1941, Forest Lodge Army Training Camp, Scotland
"Captain Lamarque?" Enjolras asked, knocking on the door. He was completely healed now, after the excruciatingly long journey from Norway to Sweden, then the Soviet union, turkey, Canada and then London.
Almost immediately, Lamarque threw a typewriter at him. Enjolras watched as it bounced on the carpet towards his feet.
"Who the hell are you?" Lamarque asked irritably as he went to pick up the typewriter.
"Second Lieutenant Enjolras."
The Captain's demeanour changed at once. "Enjolras?"
"Yes"
"It was you that, oh yes, you're the window jumper! Fantastic spirit!" he said, cracking a huge smile before throwing the typewriter out of his office, shouting in English for them to bring him one that worked.
"Let's take a look at your file," he said, flipping through the documents Enjolras had taken with him.
"Volunteer in Finland, fought in the battle of Kongsvinger, reported for service in London, and now you want to serve in Norwegian Independence Company?"
"Yes, if that means I will finally get to fight in my own country… if there is something that can be done."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the last time I was home, I accomplished nothing."
Lamarque started laughing "There's not a single fucker who's accomplished anything!"
Enjolras frowned. "But you've led some successful raids?"
Lamarque was suddenly sombre again. "After our last raid, the Germans shot 18 men, torched the town and sent 60 of its citizens to concentration camps."
He sighed, motioning for Enjolras to sit opposite him.
"We haven't won a single town since we pulled out of Narvik 18 months ago, and the allies are pushed back wherever they try to strike. It's only a matter of time before we all have to learn to speak German. But, us here, we decided to fight regardless. So to join us you must either be crazy or stupid. So, crazy, stupid… which is it?"
Enjolras stood and saluted Captain Lamarque.
"You are stupid." Lamarque declared before turning back to his paperwork. "I'm looking forwards to working with you Enjolras. Report to Corporal Combeferre; he'll show you around."
Enjolras could hardly believe his luck as he walked over to one of the side buildings. Through the window he could spy Combeferre teaching a few men about propaganda like he was born to do it. Then again, Combeferre had gone to one of those fancy universities, and admitted to Enjolras that he had always wanted to be a teacher, but that was before this wretched war happened.
Enjolras knocked on the glass and waved to Combeferre, who cracked a huge smile and opened it.
"Write two thousand words about… propaganda, ok?" he told his students, who groaned collectively, before he started to climb out.
"I heard about your escape from Ullevål, you've become somewhat a hero here." Combeferre said as he tried to squeeze through the small window head first. "All just for climbing out the window– no, don't help me" she protested as Enjolras offered a hand, "how hard can it be? Straight out the window and suddenly, ow, fine, help me out here." Combeferre said, taking his hand anyhow and pulling himself face first into the gravel outside, much to his student's amusement.
Combeferre showed him around. They base was a huge mansion, with amazing nature and old bridges and lakes all over.
"Have you heard anything from Courfeyrac?" Enjolras asked when they walked on one of the long hiking trails in the area, just as they crossed the bridge.
"Yeah, he's still at Grini Prison Camp. He's head of his unit there, he managed to copy some keys and helped some prisoners escape recently."
"Helped? He didn't escape himself?"
Combeferre snorted. "He unlocked all the doors and when the last person was out he locked himself in again."
"What?"
"He felt like the resistance work he did in the prison was too important to run away from."
"That man is quite the character…"
"That he is."
And so his life in Scotland began. He and Combeferre started training, plotting and training some more. They fell back into their old banter and discussions about propaganda.
"It a lot more than just 'making newspapers' it's about spreading awareness, making the people prepared to fight alongside us." Combeferre protested as he showed Enjolras how to attach magnetic underwater mines, limpets, to the side of the ship they were practising on. "It's about national unity-"
"We can create national unity by blowing all German Property off Norwegian soil."
"Fair enough" Combeferre said as he concentrated on fixing the limpet onto ship. "There, oh shit," he said as it fell off his stick and Combeferre frantically pulled it back up by the string. "Eh, it will stick when it has to."
Enjolras snorted, "and you're supposed to be a teacher."
"Of propaganda."
The few weeks were spent hiking, hunting, exercising and training for the mission they had plotted together since Enjolras' arrival, so it came as a slap to the face when Combeferre showed him the rejection stamp on his mission application.
"The mission is still go, but I'm not on it." Combeferre sighed. "I'm remaining here to teach." Enjolras regarded his friend. No matter how much Combeferre loved his teaching job here, he knew he would rather fight for his country, and the rejected look on his face was enough for Enjolras' fury to build.
"Is it too much to ask?!" he muttered to himself as he stalked off to find Captain Smith.
"What the hell is this?" Enjolras demanded as he stormed into the Captain's office, and slammed the rejected application on his desk.
"Enjolras?"
"Why isn't Combeferre cleared for this mission?"
"He has no field experience and he is too valuable as a teacher here, we need him-"
"For propaganda?!"
"Yes, Enjolras, for propaganda."
They stared at each other challengingly for a few seconds before Enjolras caved.
"Please, we have been working so hard on this, together. It was always our mission. I you would just talk to Lamarque then-"
"That won't happen. Lamarque is dead."
"Dead?" Enjolras asked, his chest feeling constricted by that familiar numbing ache.
Captain Smith eyed him for a long moment, before sighing and rubbing his temples, suddenly looking 10 years older.
"Fine. Combeferre can go, I will clear him for the mission." He said, waving his hand and returning to his seat.
"You will not regret this." Enjolras swore before he made his exit.
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So that was Chapter 1! And don't you fret! Chapter 2 will include Enjonine interaction! We just have to get Enjolras to the right country first! :D
