The City That We Loved

Does It Almost Feel Like You've Been Here Before?

June 2, 2014

Combeferre woke the loud sound of banging and then a glass shattering. He swung him legs over the side of his bed and grabbed the lamp from off the side table. He walked to the kitchen, slowly and quietly, holding up the lamp for protection.

He turned the corner, raising the lamp, only to almost hit someone in the head.

"Shit...Enjolras!" Combeferre exclaimed. "It's four in the morning. What are you doing?"

"Planning," Enjolras said. His arms were full of papers, he was balancing a coffee on the paper, and there was a half eaten energy bar in his mouth. "I dropped a glass over there so be careful." He walked into the living room and put the papers down, Combeferre followed him.

"Enjolras, really?" Combeferre asked tiredly. "Can't you do this when there's daylight?"

"No. We have approximately three days, six hours, twenty minutes to plan this resistance," Enjolras explained. "Everything has to be ready. I have to get the Patron Minette to raid an armoury, I need to make sure there will be enough supplies to build a barricade. There's so many things that still need to be done. Medical, ranks, weaponry. I don't have time to sleep."

"Enjolras..." Combeferre sighed. Enjolras took a long drink of coffee and started to sort through his papers. "Fine. But you'd better have a nap later today." Enjolras waved him away.

Combeferre walked back to the bedroom and plopped down on his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

***

Combeferre felt the warm summer breeze on his skin. He smiled in his sleep. But then suddenly that breeze brought the most retched smell to his nose. He opened his eyes.

He was surrounded by bodies and people trying to revive those bodies. He stood up, feeling sick to his stomach at the sight of blood running through cobbled streets. He looked around. There was a tall barricade, a looming shadow over all of the death.

Enjolras was talking to Courfeyrac but they were not dressed like they normally were. Enjolras wore a red jacket over a gray vest, a white puffy shirt and a black cravat, black trousers and boots. Courfeyrac wore the same style of clothes, but instead of a jacket he simply wore a brown vest and a blue cravat. Combeferre walked over to them.

"What's going on?" Combeferre asked. Enjolras glanced at him. Combeferre only faintly noticed the ponytail he was rocking.

"Combeferre, I told you to get some rest," Enjolras said. "You've helped enough for the night."

"Enjolras...why are you dressed like that?" Combeferre asked. Enjolras raised an eyebrow and looked at Courfeyrac. A smile grew on his face.

"You are dressed the same, mon ami," Enjolras said with a small laugh. Combeferre looked down and realized he was right. He was wearing a blue vest over a white puffy shirt. "Are you feeling quite all right?"

"Yeah...uh..." Enjolras and Courfeyrac looked at each other for a moment and then back at Combeferre. "This is going to sound really strange but what year is it?"

"1832," Courfeyrac said, slowly. "Combeferre, I think you should go talk to Joly. You may have bumped your head on the barricade."

Combeferre took a step back when Courfeyrac reached out to touch his shoulder.

"What's the date?"

"Combeferre?" Enjolras said.

"What's the date, Enjolras?" Combeferre said, more forcefully.