AN: shadows-of-1832 asked me what happened to Lamarque, how he died. Lamarque is essentially Captain Linge. "Linge was killed during Operation Archery, a British Combined Operations raid at Måløy against German military positions on Vågsøy Island. During the Occupation of Norway by Nazi Germany, Måløy was used as a German coastal fortress, which had led to the eradication of all settlement on the island to make room for the fortress" (from Wikipedia)
Anyway, here is chapter 2!
CHAPTER 2: the Return and the Meeting
March, 1940, Stalla Front, Finland
He could hear the Russians yelling at each other, and the unmistakable sound of a jammed machinegun, he ran to the next trench, shooting its inhabitants. There was only one left, he was begging for his life. Enjolras could no longer hear Courfeyrac's shouts.
March, 1943, Hedmark, Norway
"Close encounter with Patria's nature, I see." Laughed Combeferre at the half strangled shouts Enjolras made. He hung upside down and half way out of his harness from the parachute tangled in the branches above him. Combeferre cut him down.
"The containers?"
"The forth one is right there."
"Good."
A few feet away lay a beat up and open container, still attached to its parachute, the ground around it littered with parcels which he knew contained either plastic explosives or English cigarettes.
April, 1943, Oslo, Norway
"Aker Harbour has 50 guards at night and 200 during the day."
"Why don't we have Norwegian flags on out uniforms?" wondered one of the new boys, Joly, out loud. Interrupting Enjolras' briefing for the third time.
"We will only wear the flag when our country is free." Combeferre says calmly.
"Exactly," Enjolras continued, the need to yell at Joly kept in check when Combeferre threw him a warning look. "Now, Feuilly is our inside man at Aker Harbour, he will place limpets on two of the ships. They are filled with plastic explosives and will go off around eight hours after they are-"
"But, what if the Nazis kill of the workers after this?" Feuilly interrupted.
"We will be wearing English uniforms if they see us."
"But if you're not seen?"
Combeferre calmly smiled to Feuilly, "We will leave some English effects. Don't worry."
Enjolras thanked the heavens that Combeferre had such a calming effect on the green boys as they settled down again.
He carried on with his explanations.
"So, we will attach these to the side of the ships and then we will row away. The bombs should go off at around 0900 hours, questions?" He looked around to the two new recruit's scared faces. They remained silent.
"Good. This is your last chance. There is no turning back after this."
27. April, 1943, OPERATION MARDONIUS, Aker Port, Oslo, Norway
That night they rowed their boats towards the harbour. Well, rowing was the sophisticated term; they were basically paddling in their tiny boats.
Combeferre and Marius were in one boat and Enjolras was with Joly in the other.
Enjolras could feel the jitters of excitement and fear, and the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but he managed to keep steady hands as he carefully placed the limpets on the ship with a tent pole. His senses could pick up everything from the German being spoken not 6 feet away from him, to the shadows of Combeferre and Marius steadying themselves at the other ship.
When he was done with the first ship, he motioned to Joly that they needed to paddle across to the next, but just as they started crossing, the nightshift started and the floodlight lit up their path for all to see. And a patrol boat was coming.
"It's too late to turn back now." Enjolras growled through his teeth as he pushed on, grateful for Joly's steady paddling and lack of hesitation as they made it across in the nick of time, the patrol boat passing seconds after they made their way behind their next target.
He fastened the limpets onto the last ship, this time his hands were shaking, and stuck a letter to the side of it with his knife. That was the only English effect they had.
Then, quicker than the devil, they were off again, paddling out of the harbour and into the darkness.
"How will you get to Sweden?" asked Marius when they were finally at a safe distance.
"Well," said Combeferre, "I thought we could paddle there…" Enjolras chuckled
"We'll walk to the border and take a train the rest of the way to Stockholm."
They parted from Joly and Marius when they left their boats.
Upon their arrival in Stockholm, they received a letter from Marius saying that the mission was only partly successful as not all the limpets had gone off, but the ships still sank.
(They did not receive the news that Feuilly was arrested with four of his co-workers, and awaiting execution.)
April, 1943, somewhere near the border to Sweden, Hedmark, Norway
"Ah, do you feel how the nature is slowly becoming more Swedish, Enjolras? We must surely be in there soon."
"You said that almost three hours ago, and we still haven't made it to the border," Enjolras chuckled. "Where are we going to stay when we get there, anyway?"
"Oh, don't worry, 'Ponine will take care of that."
"'Ponine?" Enjolras asked, confused.
"I haven't told you about Éponine yet?" Combeferre gaped incredulously at him.
"Who is she, your Swedish girlfriend?"
"Oh no, she's Norwegian." Combeferre said as if that would explain the reason why he could not possibly be romantically involved with her. "And she's our boss," he added when he realised it was not enough of a reason.
"Alright..."
"What?"
"She's ugly."
"She's not ugly, it's more like we have this brother-sister relationship."
Enjolras looked at Combeferre's blushing cheeks, and knew that was not the truth, at least not from Combeferre's side.
"So she's available then?" Enjolras asked, testing him.
"No," laughed Combeferre. "And I don't know what sort of game you're playing Enjolras. We both know you don't have girlfriends, or even lovers for that matter."
"You only met me after the war started," Enjolras pointed out. "I was 26, who says I've never been a ladies man before that?"
"Courfeyrac." Combeferre answered. Enjolras felt that dull stinging in his chest as he always did when he remembered that his childhood friend was slowly withering away at Grini.
"But I can still take a shot at her?" he asked, refusing to let the mood get sombre.
"No."
"So you are interested."
"No!"
Enjolras laughed but let it be. They walked for a few more meters before it suddenly felt as if it was brighter, he looked up ahead and saw a clearing in the trees, a few meters wide and many kilometres long. He paused and pointed across to where the forest started again.
"That, my friend, is Sweden."
They walked across.
1943, The British Consulate, Stockholm, Sweden.
"I'll see if I can find 'Ponine," Combeferre murmured, hiding his blush as he walked to the left. Enjolras bit back a teasing comment and said he'd stock up on their rations meanwhile. He walked towards the desks, and was distracted by a sight, and it was a beautiful sight to behold.
Enjolras had never been the kind of man who ogled the ladies as they walked by, not even when he'd been young and managed to mess himself into all kinds of funny situations involving less-than-decent-women with Courfeyrac, nor when his father took him to Cuba as a child and the woman his father liked to talk to was wearing practically nothing. But he could not help himself from looking at the lovely dame in front of him, bent over a filing cabinet, with her bottom towards him.
"Excuse me," he said, forcing himself not to blush when he realised he was staring just a little bit too long.
"What do you want?" she answered, still bent over the bottom drawer, it annoyed him that she didn't face him, but instead kept her arse in his sight in such a distracting way.
"I need some equipment."
She stood up with the air of someone who was used to putting people down. It caught him a little by surprise seeing as he had only ever seen such a well-executed sigh performed by himself before. And still she hadn't turned around to face him.
"What's your name?" she asked with disinterest.
"Mr. In-a-Hurry."
"Mr. In-a-Hurry," she said, rolling her eyes as she turned to face him, the look of utmost boredom and I-don't-have-the-time-for-this-crap upon her beautiful face. Oh what a beautiful face it was.
He blinked, taking in everything from her big brown eyes, to her dimpled cheek and the freckles on her nose. She raised an eyebrow and he hurriedly fumbled with unfolding his list while focusing on not blushing.
"Ehm, we need 2 diving suits, 20 kilos of coffee, 8 limpets…" he glanced towards her, seeing that she hadn't moved, other than to cross her arms, "write it down," he told her, she snatched his list from him instead.
"Let me see… ha! 60 cartons of cigarettes! 15 bottles of whiskey? What sort of rubbish is this?"
"Can you just fix it, I don't have time to discuss it." He set his chin and looked at her challengingly.
"Oh, you don't, do you, Mr. In-a-Hurry?" she scoffed as she crossed out the cigarettes and whiskey.
"Hey, don't do that!" he said as she walked passed him.
"Look, I have 20 refugees from Trøndelag who all need a place to live, and I only have 300 cartons of cigarettes total to distribute amongst 300 saboteurs, couriers and refugees alike." She said, still crossing out and scribbling on his list. "There," she said, handing it back to him when she was satisfied. "Now get in line like everyone else." He confusedly accepted the list and stared at it before she hit his hat with her pen and told him to take it off inside as was polite. He looked back up at her and watched her walk away without a single glance back. He was shocked to find that his hat was already off and in his pocket.
He spied her walk across the room and tap Combeferre on the shoulder, who turned around and promptly threw his arms around her. Dread and trepidation filled Enjolras' stomach as he made his way over.
"Do you mind if we steal you for a few moments?" He heard Combeferre say.
"We?" She asked.
"Enjolras and I."
"Enjolras? The Enjolras? The window jumper who managed to escape from Ullevål, is he here?" She sounded a lot more excited now than she had a minute ago. Enjolras on the other hand thought it better to slowly turn back around. Unfortunately for him; Combeferre had spotted him.
"Ah, Enjolras!" Enjolras steeled himself and walked towards them. "Enjolras, meet Ponine."
"That's 'Ponine?" he asked, feigning surprise.
"Yes."
"So, 'Ponine," he said as an awkward silence settled in, "what's it short for?"
"Éponine Nikoline Lie Lindebrække Montparnasse."
"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, wholly uncharacteristically. The other two looked oddly at him. 'Ponine with a mixture of confusion and surprise, and Combeferre with a mixture of surprised and parent-whose-child-just-flipped-off-his-boss… which was basically what Enjolras had just done. Enjolras could not blame him, especially because he had no idea why he'd just done it.
"What? It's a long name."
That night all three of them went out to dinner. Combeferre kept up an animated conversation with 'Ponine, telling her about all the shenanigans they had gotten into, like when they had accidentally broken into the royal family's hunting lodge, or when Enjolras had gotten a gestapo drunk when they were out searching for wanted people in the bar (him included), and Éponine almost lost it as Combeferre told her about how the German guard had peed down his shirt while Enjolras did his crazy paddling across the harbour.
"And before I knew it, Enjolras was safely across, and I was covered in German urine!"
"I don't believe it!" 'Ponine exclaimed laughing and leaning on Combeferre's arm.
"You'd better believe it! He was even nice enough to give me a big, warm hug afterwards." Enjolras supplied.
"You probably deserved it," she told him with a smirk, and Enjolras lowered his wineglass with a raised brow.
"Speaking of urine…" Combeferre mumbled and excused himself to the loo, leaving the two of them in an awkward silence.
"Are you just about finished?" he asked irritably after a sip of his drink.
"With what?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow and fishing a cigarette out of her purse.
"Acting like that," he said, putting down his wineglass and continuing to scowl at her. She glared back, and he was pretty sure that if she had not been busy balancing her cigarette between her lips, she would have possibly poked her tongue out at him.
She did not answer him.
"You know first impressions are not always right, right?" he said, lowering his glance to the table, thinking of the first time he met Courfeyrac, and how he never would have believed Combeferre when he said he'd locked himself back into Grini Prison camp if he had only had the impression of Courfeyrac as the selfish Casanova he'd been as a teenager.
"In my experience, they usually are." She smiled at him, before taking a drag of her cigarette.
"Oh, so you're a self-absorbed, superficial bitch then?" he asked, knowing he was pushing it a little too far and damning this woman for making him loose control of his ability to sensor his speech.
To her credit, she took his insult in stride and was just about to fire back some equally biting remark; he could see it in her eyes, when Combeferre showed up.
"I see you're getting better acquainted then?" he said hesitantly as he sat back down.
Éponine stared at Enjolras a few more seconds, spite growing in her eyes, before she calmly gathered her things. "Well this has been a long day," she sighed and stood, bending down to kiss Combeferre's cheek. "It was lovely to meet you again," she smiled warmly at him, and seeing that smile directed at his friend made Enjolras regret his actions for just a second when she sent him an icy glare before walking out of the café.
"What were you doing?!" Combeferre hissed the moment the door closed behind her.
Enjolras just shrugged. He had no idea.