Okay before anything else, the London cast of Les Miserables is incredible and I highly recommend seeing them if you ever get the chance (I got to meet the current Marius and it was amazing)
A quick warning that the next few chapters will contain: Major character death and suicide mentions. So please tread carefully.
Disclaimer: All I own is a Cosette T shirt.
Hershel left the clock shop feeling proud, Descole spoke of revenge, but he knew in his heart that this wasn't something the inspector would soon forget about. When he told the students, they quickly accepted that Descole was dead and, much to Hershel's relief; they weren't too keen on checking how he'd killed him.
As everybody moved past the subject of the spy, Hershel went to sit down on one of the spare boxes, realising how tired he was from running here. He hadn't stopped since he'd set off from the hotel which had to have been a few hours ago at least. Reminding himself of why he was there, he looked round, trying to find either of the particular people he'd expected to be at the barricade.
"Does anyone here know of the woman who sent me here?" he was met with looks of confusion.
"There wasn't anybody who sent for you." Replied Henry. Hershel frowned, and tried to recall the person in his mind. He'd warned her to stay away from the barricade, so perhaps she'd done just that. But surely people would know her, as she'd known them, even if she wasn't here.
"No, no but she brought me a letter. She had brown hair, was wearing a long yellow coat?"
"You'll be thinking about Emmy Altava." Answered someone from above.
"That should be her, I'd like to thank her for the information she gave me-" Hershel was unaware of the grave silence that had fallen over his companions "-and to apologise for reading the letter. Where is she?" While Hershel waited for an answer, the young boy in the blue hat him sat beside him, whispering.
"She's dead, sir." Hershel froze. That couldn't possibly be true. Though he thought back to the boy upstairs in the shop, he'd bet anything that it was her with him. It had been hardly anytime between them meeting and him getting there, what on earth had happened?
"I'm so sorry to hear that." He heard a vague sniffle from the boy as he wiped his face with his sleeve. "Did you know her well?"
"Emmy was my best friend. Like a sister to me."
"She seemed like-"
"But then she came out here and got shot when the police were here." The boy continued talking, obviously caught up in what he was saying. He was clearly upset, but there had been no sign of it since he'd came. Maybe it was best to let the boy express his grief now. " I expected people would get 'urt, Randall told me so, but I just didn't think it would 'appen so suddenly."
"It seems like you really cared about her." Hershel placed a hand round his shoulders tentatively, the boy leaned into him. "I hate to say this, but I don't think you should be here. It seems far too dangerous." After a few seconds, the boy turned to look at him, tears trailing on his stoic face.
"I would but… she told 'im to tell me that she was sorry. But I don't think she should be sorry. It isn't 'er fault; it's the fault of the people who shot. I want to make sure they beat them, for 'er." Hershel smiled at his enthusiasm, cautious of what may happen if he stayed but not wanting to ignore his wishes.
"I believe it's a truly noble thing to do. I'm sure Emmy would be very proud of you." The boy gave a small smile.
"I hope you're right. Thank you mister."
"Layton."
"Thank you Mister Layton." He grabbed Hershel's hand in a small attempt at a handshake. "I'm Luke, Luke Triton."
"Lovely to meet you." It seemed as though Luke had decided that Hershel would be his new person to look up to in Emmy and Clive's absence, as he ended up sitting with him for the majority of the day, though Hershel didn't protest. It was rather nice to have someone like Luke looking up to him; he couldn't help but be reminded of a younger Flora.
"How do you feel about the Revolution anyway?" Luke asked, swinging his legs against the box. "All this business with Anton."
"I haven't lived here for very long, I'm afraid I'm not aware of all the details." Luke's jaw dropped, but he quickly closed it.
"Why're you 'ere then? Anton was the great leader of London, was the only one who cared about us- The person meant to take over from him was awful, so we 'ad to do something about it. So if we stay 'ere and protest, the citizens are gonna 'ave to listen to us." Hershel laughed.
"My, you're very informed. " Luke tipped his hat to him.
"Well I'm the eyes and ears of London, the one who gives all the information back and forth. To the students I'm very important; I'm like Randall's apprentice."
"Well he's very lucky to have someone like you around; I'd certainly want an apprentice like you." Hershel rubbed the top of his head. Luke clasped his hand together and looked at the floor, clearly thinking.
"Well when this is all over, when Lady Sophia – Anton's wife- is in charge" he added the explanation in response to Hershel's blank reaction to the name "Then we won't need to 'ave our meetings anymore, and he won't need an apprentice. So maybe…"
"Maybe you could be my apprentice?" Luke nodded.
"If that would be alright with you"
"Of course it would."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As the lights dimmed, the students found themselves becoming weary, but knew they couldn't sleep just yet. Randall found his eyes drooping when he tried speaking to the others. Dalston saw and took this opportunity to fetch everyone drinks from inside the clock shop. He passed them round to people, making sure the younger ones were given the appropriate glasses, no matter how much Crow clamoured to steal the bottle from under his arm.
"Come on everyone, we can't let ourselves be brought down by this. I raise a glass-" Dalston lifted his, as the other followed "To Miss Altava, long may she stay in our hearts." Randall lifted his, afterwards, proposing his own ideas. Still feeling very tired, but wanting to encourage the group.
"And one to the Revolution, every battle brings us closer to victory. Emmy's sacrifice will be remembered-"
"Be quiet Randall, we're trying to honour someone and you're just bringing it back to your ideals." The comment came from Henry, who sat quietly sipping from his glass by the back. Randall raised an eyebrow at the outburst, and questioned him
"I thought you were fine with my ideals. I thought we all were." Henry placed his glass beside him and spoke slowly, punctuating his words with calm agitation.
"We were, but using the wake of someone's death to justify them is just disgusting." Randall stopped, thinking over what he'd said.
"That's not what I'm doing at all! You're completely misunderstanding-"
"Not every death is a sacrifice, or a step forwards. Sometimes it's just that, a death. I know you want to die for a good cause, and you're worried that you won't. "
"Henry that's enough."
"You think your death won't mean anything, and that nobody will remember you. So you're making sure they remember Emmy . But Emmy wasn't worried about that; don't force her to be the martyr that you want to be." With this, Henry climbed down and entered the clock shop, avoiding the eyes of Randall as he passed. He entered as Clive exited, apparently unaware of what had happened. When he did, Luke raised his glass in appreciation.
"And to Clive, and 'is true love!" the people around him giggled as Clive turned red. Hershel stopped, he recognised that name. But there was still the possibility…
"Oh shut up. I don't even know if I'll make it back to Flora" that was it. This was definitely who Hershel had been sent to find. He made a mental note of which one he was. "Thanks for the appreciation though." Randall tore his eyes away from the clock shop door.
"We need to keep our spirits up; the citizens will rise up soon." Everyone had noticed that their numbers hadn't grown since the first meeting. Nobody had joined them. "As long as we're here fighting, the people of London can't ignore us."
" You want help with anything Randall?" asked Clive, yawning. "I haven't really done a lot today."
"No, you've had a rough time. You should get some rest. Aurora, you take the watch."
As everyone settled down to fall asleep, mainly propped against parts of the barricade, Hershel stayed alert. He knew now that Clive was the one he'd come to find, and vowed to protect him. It was clear from the letter that he made his daughter happy, and despite his wariness about how they met, he trusted her. But the troops were coming, he could feel it. He looked at the barricade and saw the girl's eyes wavering. He climbed up the side of the barricade to meet with her.
"Miss, I'd be perfectly happy to take over now if you wanted to get some sleep as well." Aurora happily accepted, curling up against the wardrobe beside him. Hershel sat and looked over the people. Someone had been lost in hardly any time, and it would only take one bullet for anyone here to be gone as well. The sniper earlier was just the start of it. There was so much more to come, and he had to be there to get Clive out of danger.
The next chapter will probably be posted quite quickly because it's quite a big chapter, and I want to post it on the 1 year anniversary of when this story was started. With that being said, thank you for keeping up with this story, it's always lovely to see people enjoying it.
(I will also be updating some of the older chapters to fix spelling errors, because I've realised that I'd been spelling Don Paolo as Paulo for over 10 chapter. Oops.)