'Ello, Mizzies! *Tips top hat* This top hat is on temporary loan from my great friend JackalFoxx, so you will see me with it for quite a while. Guess what? I finally got a copy of Les Mis! *Jumps into the air and flaps wings* It is literally the thickest book I have ever read. (No wonder people call it "The Brick…") Anyway, this FanFiction is inspired by *Starlene on deviantART. They are an AMAZING artist, and they gave me permission to write this Fic. The picture is called "Revolution Never Dies." Look it up, or you won't get the FanFic. I warn you, this is MUCHMUCHMUCH darker than my usual lighthearted, fluffy romances. Be warned.

*Puts top hat back on ominously, laughs scarily, and rubs hooves together*

My "Brainiest" Regards,

-Almost Novi

XXX

Cosette had to admit: Sometimes she missed her dear P'pa so much it was a physical pain. Like someone had buried an iron rod in her stomach and twisted it round and round until she was screaming and in tears. She frequently woke up in the nights beside Marius, crying out for her beloved Valjean. Her husband would always wrap his arms around her and whisper comforting things into her hair, murmuring, "It's okay. It's alright. Cosette, I'm here beside you." Those words became a mantra to her over the months that passed since Jean Valjean's passing. And though she missed him with the Iron-Rod-In-The-Stomach pain, her life was also filled with love and light, all from her Marius. He woke each day with a smile on his face, and ended the day just the same. They never fought; only teased lightly now and again. She was more in love than she had ever been. Yes, her husband was her life. And she knew that as much as she loved him, he would always be five times more in love with her.

After all of this tumbled through her mind, she proceeded count aloud. "One… two… three…" and so on. Though her husband carried great sadness, he always managed to find something amusing, dare I day, distracting for the two to do. And on this rainy Paris day, he had proposed a game of hide and seek. While most young women her age would have found the game idle or childish, Cosette always had fun with the games Marius devised. "…Twenty-nine, thirty!" Cosette cried happily. "Whether or not you are ready, here I come!" She got up from her seat by the window and smoothed down her white frock. She first went into the bedroom she and Marius shared, peering into the darkness of the closet and under the bed. She had known Marius to hide in places such as this, and then leap out and scare her. She checked behind the chair that sat in the corner, uneasily eyeing Jean Valjean's shining silver candlesticks. She stroked them both softly, smiling sadly. Turning her attention back to the game, she walked around the small apartment, looking into the nooks and crannies. When had looked in every plausible place, she returned to her seat at the window, puzzled. I've looked everywhere. Where IS he? she thought. Briefly, she wondered if he had set up the game to keep her busy while he ran errands or something of the sort, but she dismissed the thought quickly. She went into their room and sat on the bed, crossing her ankles and twisting her braid as she pondered the situation. Finally, she called, "Marius? I give up!" loudly. From beneath the bed, she heard a roar.

"Ahh!" Cosette shrieked, jumping up on top of the bed and slipping on the silky bed sheets. She tumbled down, tangled in the slippery lavender material, while Marius popped out from underneath the bed, fretting.

"Oh, Cosette! Cosette!" he cried, flailing his arms about. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry…"

Cosette growled, trying to untangle herself. She ended up with a lavender bed sheet binding her arm to her neck, and her ankles tied up. "Help me!" the usually soft-spoken woman snapped.

Marius fussed over her, gently untangling her from the sheets. "I'm sorry!" he repeated. "I… I just thought I would spook you…"

Cosette smiled lightly. "Clever Marius," she murmured with a smirk. "Tries to scare his wife and ends up spooking himself!"

Marius flushed. "Well, you didn't find me the first time," he said primly.

Cosette laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "Let's not play this game anymore," she suggested. When Marius agreed, they went into the kitchen for a cup of tea.

XXX

"Cosette."

Cosette turned over, brushing her long hair away from her face. "Marius?" she murmured sleepily.

The man sat up in the bed they shared, his body tense and his teeth audibly grinding. "Cosette, listen."

The young woman paused, taken aback by her husband's strange behavior. She wondered if he was having a night fit, dreams of his dead friends coming back to haunt him. Before she could question him, she heard a noise from the streets below. It sounded like men and women singing. It sounded like wooden objects being stacked on top of one another.

It sounded like a barricade was being built.

She gasped. "Marius?" she said.

He turned to her. "Cosette… they're doing it again," he said numbly. "They… they're building another barricade." He shivered, but was smiling. "They didn't die in vain, Cosette!" he shouted, jumping from the bed and quickly dressing. "I… I must help!" He tugged on a pair of breeches and was just about to run out of the door when Cosette jumped up.

She bellowed, "STOP!" Her husband froze like a startled deer. "Marius," Cosette said. "What are you doing?"

He took a heavy breath, some sanity returning to his eyes. "Cosette," he said carefully. "Last year, all of my friends built a barricade. The others abandoned them in the middle of the war, but they kept fighting. And now they're all dead. Joly, Jehan, Enjolras… all of them." He started shaking, and Cosette put her arms around him. He returned her embrace, and kept talking. "If I'm right, people are building a new barricade. And maybe, just maybe… my friends will not have died in vain. Every day I wonder why God chose your father to rescue me, and I burn with guilt for my friends." He looked into Cosette's eyes. He stroked the side of her face, his eyes pleading. "If I can prevent the death of some of these people… I might feel a bit less horrible."

Cosette wanted to object. She wanted to forbid him to go, and make him stay in the safe apartment. But she knew what it felt like to have the people you loved the most die and always wonder why it wasn't you. Jean Valjean had fought at the barricades to protect Marius. Her childhood tormenter, Eponine, had sacrificed herself and saved Marius's life. She had died in his arms. The blonde-haired revolutionary had died holding hands with the drunken cynic. The rest were shot and stabbed with bayonets. Cosette shuddered thinking about it. Marius blamed himself for all of their deaths, especially Eponine's.

Cosette knew that he would never forgive himself, but the guilt could possibly be lifted the tiniest bit if he was able to fight at the barricades. And she knew he would never do it unless she said yes.

She took a deep breath and looked into the eyes of the love of her life. "Go," she whispered. "But on one condition: I go with you."

XXX

When Madame and Monsieur Pontmercy made it outside, they were surprised to find the streets devoid of life. The cobblestones didn't shine with blood as they had one year ago. There was a fully-built barricade in the middle of the street, but no one near or behind it. The windows were all lit, lamps burning in the nighttime. Suddenly, a small beggar boy came running through the streets. "THE LIVING DEAD!" he wailed. He was running so fast he couldn't stop himself, and he crashed into Marius.

Marius knelt down and put his hands on the child's shoulders, stopping him. "Boy, what's wrong?" he asked kindly. The young boy's dirty cheeks were marked with tears, his eyes large and terrified.

"I… I be runnin' though the streets with me mates, when alluva sudden there's this right big scream. I hear me best mate hollerin' 'François! 'Urry up and get outta 'ere!'' I be right confused, but I run with the rest of 'em. The littlest ones 'r only six, so they be as confused as I am. They get t' laggin' be'ind, and… and…" He took a deep breath and collapsed into sobs. "We… we left 'em be'ind!" he wailed. "Be'ind with the living dead!"

Marius was shocked. Under the boy's thick urchin accent, he could make out that his group of friends had left behind a few six-year-olds, but other than that he was utterly confused. "Go on," he said slowly.

"I… I be seein' this woman be'ind us with the six-year-olds," the boy, François, sniffed. "She be 'bout yer age," he said, pointing to Cosette. "She… she ain't right in the head, I can tell by the way she was movin'. She kept stumblin' and crashin' and the like. She be with a few other people. All of em's got the bluest skin. Their eyes is bleedin' blood, and the woman is reachin' 'er fingers towards little Anton. She says in this real croaky voice, 'Gavroche…' Like a name, y'know? I 'memered the name. He was one 'a the boys in our gang, but 'e stopped comin' 'round last year. Got shot or sumfin."

Marius flinched.

"You mean to tell us that the living dead are stumbling around the streets… bleeding out of their eyes?" Cosette asked slowly.

The boy nodded, whimpering. "Save yerselves!" he shrieked, the tears streaming down his face. With that, he ran to one of the houses, banged on the door, and was promptly pulled in by a plump, middle-aged woman. The woman eyed Marius and Cosette, bellowing, "RUN!"

And at that moment, three members of the living dread came dragging themselves through the streets. One had thick, curly black hair. In his skeletal hands was clenched a bottle of absinthe. One of them was a woman with long black hair, wearing a thick brown overcoat and a large beige hat. The last one had long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. He croaked out a single phrase, "Vive la république!'