les amis de l'abc

Drabble a Day

A/N: An attempt to write the end of the battle sequence in KCrabb88′s Sailing By Orion’s Star from Combeferre’s perspective

47. Fall (Les Miserables- Sailing by Orion’s Star Pirate AU)

‘Rene, watch out!’ Feuilly shouts, voice already ragged because it’s already too late.

 

‘Gun!’

 

Combeferre hears the shout but doesn’t quite understand it.

Doesn’t understand why he’s on the deck of the Libertie, why Courfeyrac and Jehan and Joly are streaking past him; dodging over the creaking, salt stained deck that is tainted with blood which is not their own.

Rene.

Rene who had already gone through so much, too much to get to this moment and now…

Now he can see a carbine curled in Javert’s fist, although how he managed to acquire one and how he managed to escape the brig are questions that he cannot answer.

Now he can see his oldest, closest friend, his brother in all but blood lying with his head propped up in Feuilly’s lap; his face a deathly shade of pale that can only spell disaster.

Enjolras.

 

Dear God, not Enjolras. Not now…

 

He moves without thought, without acknowledgement; pushing his way through the gathering crowd, all shocked into a stunned silence so that all that can be heard is the creak of the ship and the whistle of the wind in the rigging.

The silence is eerie, telling him things that he would rather not hear and Combeferre cannot bear it.

Your captain.

 

Your best friend.

 

Gone.

 

Gone forever.

Courfeyrac is beside him in an instant; eyes wild and breathing ragged, fire-filled gaze falling in a blaze of desperate heat on Javert and it is all Combeferre can do to catch the centre’s arm and try to pull him back.

‘Auden…’ Courfeyrac’s given name comes to his lips without hesitation, but the weight of his friend is too strong as the centre desperately tries to get away; whole body trembling with rage as he glares at Javert.

You shot him! You absolute bastard! I swear to god, I knock you flat and then keep going!’

Each word is spat into the silence; blistered, broken words fraught with a fire that is heavy with fear.

 

There’s no point Auden, Combeferre thinks desperately, unable to speak; pressing the struggling body closer to his chest; listening his friend’s frantic, tear stained breathing as the struggles finally begin to cease.

He pulls Courfeyrac closer, carding shaking fingers through his friend’s hair; drinking in the bloody perfume of sweat and gunpowder that covers them both like a cloak.

‘Enough Mon Ami. That’s enough,’ the words come out choked, but he has no wish to swallow his tears; not when his oldest friend is perilously close to death’s door.

Around them he can hear the thud of the waves crashing against the Libertie’s hull; the broken breathing of friends and foe unsure of where their lives will go in the next few minutes.

Finally, Courfeyrac stops fighting.

Finally, Combeferre feels the body so full of fire go limp against his chest; one trembling hand reaching to grasp his own and squeeze.

Their shaking fingers cry out for the third hand; the one still clasped in Feuilly’s.

Hold on Rene, Combeferre finds himself thinking.

Hold on.