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ranwing · 5 years

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Kadam Fic: Learning To Fly (14/?)

Title: Learning to Fly Series: A New Direction (was Season Four Remix) Pairing(s), Characters(s): Kadam, Kurt Hummel, Adam Crawford, Burt Hummel, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Carmen Tibideaux, Cassandra July, Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang, Elliot “Starchild” Gilbert, Dani, Adam’s Apples, Original Characters Rating: PG13 (rating may change) Genre(s): canon divergence. Parts: 14/?

Summary: As another school year starts at NYADA, Kurt seemed to have it all. The respect of his teachers, a group of wonderful friends and best of all, getting to live with the man that he’d come to love. So of course the universe would throw a few curve balls in his direction.

A/N - Three chapters posted today (chapters 13-15).

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter 13

One AO3

“Ten minutes to curtain!” A production assistant rushed through each of the dressing rooms, calling out the alert. “Ten minutes! Everyone get to the stage for Professor Carmody.”

Kurt had been getting into his costume when the call came, leaving him to hurry to the stage area still in his slippers and his shirt only half buttoned. Around him, the company huddled together as they waited for their director to address them while the audio techs double-checked the microphones that all the actors discretely wore. Most of the company were fully dressed for the opening numbers, their hair and makeup complete and he almost didn’t recognize his friends in the crowd. Jamie was dressed in a ragged prison uniform, a cap covering his head and makeup that looked like streaks of dirt and bruises staining his skin.

Rachel was nearly unrecognizable in her beggar costume. Her makeup was done to give her a gaunt appearance, with deep hollows carved under her cheekbones and shadows under her eyes. Her hair was tucked under a stained cap and a tatty shawl was draped over the shoulders of her threadbare dress. His eyes darted around the crowd, trying to pick out Analisa and Katya and his friends gave nods of recognition to him, and nervous smiles of support.

Around the actors, the tech teams gathered, and Kurt nodded greetings to his friends there. All the elements of the production had drawn together and all their efforts over the past few months was about to pay off. They were a united team, ready to put their best work out there for the waiting audience.

Professor Carmody arrived, for once looking neat and not displaying the stress that they were used to seeing from her. She had done everything in her power to make her grand vision come to life and bar managing the show from the wings, her task was nearly done.

With a smile, she motioned for everyone to gather as closely as nearly a hundred students were able to. “Okay everyone… I’m not going to make a big speech,” she assured her students. “I just wanted to thank you all for your hard work and dedication to our show. NYADA has never staged a production on this scale and this would never have been possible without all of you giving the kind of effort that you have.

“Tonight, this is about you. Actors, costumers, technical teams… all of you. I have never been so proud of a team or more confident that you will be successful tonight. The only instructions that I have now is to relax. You all know what you’re doing. Go out there and enjoy yourselves and show what you can do. Break a leg everyone!”

The group cheered, finally giving in to the excitement of their first official performance. People moved to hug their friends, wishing them well and those in the opening act hurried to take their marks before the curtain rose. Kurt rushed over to hug Rachel and his girls.

“Oh my God… I can’t believe it’s finally here,” Rachel gasped, her eyes wide and clutching at Kurt with a desperate strength. Kurt didn’t pull back, even though he’d probably have bruises on his arms.

“It’s going to be great,” he promised her, giving her a quick kiss to the top of her head so he wouldn’t damage her makeup. “I’m going to finish getting dressed so I can watch you all from the wings.”

At the announcement that the curtain was going up in five, Jamie took a deep breath. “Okay guys… this is it! Break a leg!”

In the orchestra box, Kurt saw the musicians making their final preps and he finally was struck by the fact that their moment had arrived. There was no more time for doubts.

“I’ll see you all on stage,” he promised, feeling the first trace of real anticipation hit him.

As he arrived at his dressing room, the first strains of the overture reached his ears. There was no more time to worry. There was just the performance to focus on. He reached for the tie that went with his costume and looped it about his neck, his mind focused on his final preparations.

* * *

In hindsight, Finn should have expected that the show would be spectacular, but he had little to really base his expectations on. His experiences with New Directions didn’t come close to anything like this, with their basic costumes and choreography. And he’d never had a lot of interest or knowledge about musical theater outside of watching Rachel perform solos that she felt showcased herself best. There was the failed Rocky Horror show that he had a role in, and West Side Story but full productions didn’t seem to be a priority at McKinley. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that this was his first real experience with a full production.

He’d made sure to read a bit about what the musical entailed so he’d be able to follow the storyline and really appreciate what Kurt and Rachel had put so much effort into. Just judging from the opening number, he could reasonably argue that there wasn’t a professional show that could claim to have better actors, let alone sets and costumes.

Despite the fact that he had come specifically to see Kurt and Rachel, he found himself enjoying the beginning of the show and appreciating the other performers. He fully expected the show to be absolutely spectacular and he wasn’t disappointed. The cast was, to an individual, absolutely phenomenal. The young man playing the lead had a stunning voice and was a riveting presence on stage. Even with the knowledge that he was a university student, Finn could totally believe that he was a French convict. And the guy playing Javert was just fantastic, with the type of baritone voice that you didn’t see too often with the way he balanced the depth of his tone with a crispness that added an interesting dimension. They sounded incredible together and Finn thought that even if Kurt and Rachel weren’t performing, that this show was well worth seeing.

The opening songs focused on Jean Valjean as he was released from prison and left to wander the countryside to look for honest work. While the sets on stage gave a clear impression of farmland, the designers took it a step further by projecting an image of a field or orchard behind the actors that gave the scenes a sense of depth and expressed the passage of time.

He watched avidly as Valjean pleaded for a day’s work or a place to lay his head but was turned away because he carried a letter of parole and bore a prisoner’s brand. Wherever he went, he was turned away, never given a chance to work a day’s labor of find a place to rest his head at night. He grew increasingly desperate and angry and being turned away from every door when he was offered a night’s rest by a kind-hearted bishop.

He bit his lip anxiously during the theft that nearly sent Valjean back to prison, but the generosity of the bishop saved him and gave him a renewed perspective on life. He could viscerally feel Valjean’s shame at robbing the man who’d shown him such kindness and determination to make his life worthy of what he’d been given. His vow to honor the bishop’s generosity and faith in his humanity.

The music began to swell and Finn knew that this was where the story would truly begin. The stage lights fell softly on a group standing towards the back of the stage, huddled together as a light dusting of fake snow began to waft around them. Offstage fans began to blow, giving the clear impression of a harsh winter arriving to torment those least able to withstand the hardship.

He knew that Rachel was in this number and tried to pick her out from the crowd of men, women and children. He listened carefully for her particular voice and found it nearly impossible to do so. Rather than trying to make her voice stand out from the chorus, Rachel was blending seamlessly with the other singers. It was only as the group stepped forward, pleading with the audience that he was able to pick her out; dressed in rags and cradling a bundle in her arms that was made to look like she was holding a baby. Rather than the mugging that he remembered from her previous attempts at acting, the desperation in her expression appeared genuine.

He smiled, glad that she was doing so well. She’d had a lot of challenges the past few years and a lot of disappointments to get past, most of her own making. But he couldn’t help from being happy to see how far she’d come and the nearly limitless potential before her.

Finn couldn’t resist glancing at the stern woman sitting at his side, amused at the bored expression on her face. She was clearly here for one thing only and she wouldn’t be happy until Kurt was standing on that stage for her. He wondered if she knew what role Kurt was playing because if she was aware that she would be seeing him in more than an ensemble spot, she’d probably be leaping out of her skin.

Oh no… she was already tapping her foot impatiently. Finn tried to remember where Kurt’s character was supposed to show up, hoping that it would be soon. Otherwise he was in for an uncomfortable evening.

* * *

Kurt was grinning from ear to ear as he watched Rachel on stage with the rest of the ensemble. She looked and sounded fantastic and when her part in the number ended, was there to greet her when she hurried off the stage.

“Oh my God! You were great!” he insisted, giving her a hug.

“Thanks!” she gasped, accepting his embrace before reluctantly pulling away. “But I’ve got to run and get ready for the next number. You’ll be watching?”

Kurt nodded, letting her go. “Of course,” he assured her.

Rachel gave him a grateful smile before hurrying to the women’s quick-change area. The crowded room was a swarm of activity as actresses changed in and out of costumes as they got ready for different sets.

She quickly stripped out of her costume, handing them off to a costuming tech to be put away, leaving her basic underpinnings. Hurrying over to the makeup table, she pulled the pins from her hair to free it and teased it up to make it look frizzy and unkept. Picking up a lipstick in a vulgar shade of red, she colored her lips and then smeared it a bit with the back of her hand.

Looking thoroughly like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet, she checked her time and could hear the actress playing Fantine starting the “I Dreamed a Dream” number, leaving her just enough time to get into costume and find her mark. She got into the garishly patterned stockings and corset before adding a shabby red dress that put her cleavage and legs on full display. Fluffing up her hair one last time, she hurried back to the stage where Katya was waiting with the other actresses portraying the prostitutes.

Katya looked like she was several weeks since her last bath and gave her a grin that displayed the pair of blacked out teeth. Damn, Rachel thought. She could have done that too.

“Ready?” Katya asked, with an impish glint in her eyes.

Rachel nodded, tossing back her hair. “Let’s do this.”

It was difficult to find their marks on the darkened stage while the spotlight was on Fantine but Rachel found the crates where they prostitutes were to gather and hoisted herself to sit up on one of them, spreading her legs and bunching up her skirt to show off her bloomers and stockings. Katya leaned against one of the crates, thrusting out her chest and trying to look provocative.

As Fantine’s tragic song drew to a close, the audience applauded and the stage fell dark before a projection of a port scene at night was cast over the back of the stage. Three young men stumbled to the front dressed in sailor uniforms, laughing and jostling one another.

“I smell women, smell ‘em in the air,” he proclaimed lasciviously. “Think I’ll drop me anchor in that harbor over there.”

His friend laughed and nodded enthusiastically. “Lovely ladies, I’ll love you till I’m broke,” he promised, grabbing lewdly at his crotch to emphasizing what he was there for. “Seven months at sea and now I’m hungry for a poke.”

The third shoved himself between the other two, exclaiming excitedly, “Even stokers need a little stoke!”

The stage lights came on to illuminate the set made up of shipping crates and mooring pillars where the prostitutes had gathered. Rachel smiled seductively, bending forward to show off her cleavage and entice one of the sailors.

“Lovely ladies, waiting for a bite,” the group of women sang, their voices ringing out harshly. They bent over enticingly, showing off their bodies and lifting their skirts to put their legs on display for the men that were gathering around them. “Waiting for the customers who only come at night. Lovely ladies, ready for the call. Standing up or lying down or any way at all. Bargain prices up against the wall!”

A spotlight fell on Fantine, who stood out in contrast to the prostitutes with her clean calico dress and decent looking shawl. An old woman approached her the prostitutes froze in place as they disputed the sale of Fantine’s precious necklace. Rachel listened to Fantine’s pleas for the crone to offer a more generous price before giving in out of desperation, keeping her mind focused on her own performance. Once the crone had gotten what she wanted, the music resumed, and the focus fell on the ensemble again.

“Lovely ladies, waiting in the dark,” they sang as men began to draw girls apart from the group. A tall man dressed far more finely than the women walked among them, pocketing money that they shoved into his hands and watching to make sure that the women were going off with customers. “Ready for a thick one or a quick one in the park.”

“Long time, short time,” one girl sang teasingly as a sailor pressed up behind her, his hands pressed against her bodice under her breasts to appear as if he was groping her. “Any time, my dear. Cost a little extra if you want to take all year.”

One sailor grabbed Rachel about the waist and lifted her off her seat. On cue, Rachel wrapped her legs about his waist as he spun her about, his hands under her ass to hold her up as he pressed her up against one of the pillars.

“Quick and cheap is underneath the pier!”

Again, the spotlight fell on Fantine as she was forced into another bargain, this time over her long auburn hair and she was unceremoniously dragged away to have it chopped off. When the spotlight fell back upon the prostitutes and their customers, Rachel’s sailor released her, making a show of nearly dropping her before adjusting his trousers suggestively.

One of the girls stumbled back to the crates, clutching her middle painfully. “God, I’m weary. Sick enough to drop. Belly burns like fire, will the bleeding ever stop?”

Their pimp stepped over as if to comfort her, gently stroking her cheek. “Cheer up, dearie. Show a happy face,” he urged. With sudden ferocity, he grabbed her hair and shook her harshly. “Plenty more like you here if you can’t keep up the pace.”

The young woman grabbed at his hand, trying to free herself. “Only joking,” she pleaded. “Dearie knows her place!” The pimp shoved her back to the others, waving her off to get back to work.

Fantine faltered back out onto the stage, her long hair gone and making her look childlike and incredibly vulnerable. She huddled away from the group, trying to make herself as unobtrusive as possible and avoid notice by the men on the docks. The pimp watched her with an appraising eye before demanding information from one of his girls.

“Give me the dirt,” he commanded, grabbing the arm of one of the prostitutes. “Who’s that bit over there?”

The girl tossed her hair back dismissively. “A bit of skirt. She’d the one sold her hair,” she explained.

Katya leaned over, hoping to appease their pimp. “She’s got a kid. Sends her all that she can,” she confided, earning a harsh shove for her efforts.

The pimp snorted dismissively. “I might have known. There is always some man,” he mused as he approached the terrified young woman. “Lovely lady, come along and join us! Lovely lady…”

Fantine drifted to where the other women were gathered, looking at them with an expression of shame and horror that this is what she had been reduced to. That she now found herself among women that she had looked down upon when she had other prospects and dreams. The whores watched her avidly, recognizing that another was about to join their sad sisterhood.

“Come one dearie, why all the fuss?” one of the women cooed at her, her tone betraying more than a little coarse edge while a second woman looked down her nose at the downtrodden woman.

“You’re no better than the rest of us,” she snapped, only to have the other women step in between her and their new sister.

“Life has dropped you at the bottom of the heap,” Rachel sang sadly, expressing sympathy that like the rest of them, Fantine would not resort to selling herself if she had any other options.

“Join your sisters,” the pimp urged, kneeling to reach under Fantine’s skirt and feeling at her legs like she was a mare to be sold at market. “Make money in your sleep.”

A man in a sailor costume approached, eyeing Fantine appraisingly and one of the girls roughly pulled her shawl away, stripping her of what little protection it offered.

“That’s right dearie, let him have the lot,” one of the girls urged while another gave Fantine a knowing nod of approval.

“That’s right dearie… show him what you’ve got.”

With her chin raised as proudly as she could manage, Fantine walked to her awaiting customer, determined to maintain what dignity she could. He grasped her hand and dragged her out of sight.

The prostitutes gathered together, pushing away their customers and stepping away from their watchful pimp, expressing what defiance they could over their sad lot in life. Rachel and Katya stood together and held hands as they looked out defiantly at the audience, demanding respect from those what would look down upon them while taking advantage of their situations.

“Old men, young men, take ‘em as they come!” they proclaimed with as much pride as they could muster, expressing their hate for the men that used them. “Harbor rates and alley cats and every kind of scum!

“Poor men, rich men, leaders of the land. See them with their trousers off they’re never quite as grand!” they sang, flinging up their hands and mocking the customers who watched and had no idea of how much they were hated.

“All it takes is money in your hand!” they shouted, reaching out with grasping hands and clenched fists.

The music softened as the group of women drifted apart, pasting smiles on their faces and they returned to their customers. “Lovely ladies, going for a song… Got a lot of callers, but they never stay for long…”

Following Fantine’s arrest, Rachel hurried back to her dressing room to start getting ready for the Master of the House number. So far things were going well, and she had a grand total of ten minutes to fix her makeup and change costumes again. Kurt hadn’t lied to her about how much work went into being in the ensemble and she found herself racing against the clock to make sure that she was done on time. The corset and rags went back on their hanger and a makeup wipe got the worst of the prostitute paint off her face. She quickly retouched her foundation and adjusted her makeup with a softer hand before she changed into her simple peasant dress and cap.

Grabbing a few sips of water, she rushed back to the stage and was pleased to have made it in plenty of time. She spotted Kurt waiting nearby, working with one of the audio techs to fit his microphone and making his final preparations because he would be going on stage shortly afterwards and waved to catch his eye.

“You’re doing great!” he mouthed to her, earning a happy smile in response. She was working harder than she could ever have imagined doing, but everything was going well. Never before would she have ever believed just how important the ensemble was for the show but now she saw that their contribution was just as important as any of the leads. When the students playing the Thénardiers stepped out in their raggedy finery, she got mentally settled into her newest role. There were quite a few friends in the group for this scene, including several of Kurt’s Apple friends.

The sets was quickly changed out, going from a deep forest for the “Castle On A Cloud” number to the interior of a less than reputable inn. This was one of the more elaborate sets, with tables and benches and all the various items that one might expect to see in a tavern room. Rachel hurried to the bench where she was supposed to be seated. Picking up the tankard waiting for her, she took a breath and waited for the curtain to lights to illuminate the scene. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Finn knew that his hands were going to be in serious pain by the time the show ended with the way he was clapping. He was surprised that Rachel had a role in pretty much every major scene since the start of the show and had been bouncing back and forth between multiple roles. She went from beggar to prostitute to now a slightly drunk townswoman singing the praises of a rather dishonest innkeeper who was boasting about how he was ripping off his guests at every turn.

The show had been everything he expected and he was enjoying it immensely, but he found himself eagerly awaiting Kurt’s presence on the stage. Casting glances over at his family, he saw Burt checking his watch, the only hint of boredom that he would display. There was no way that his stepfather wouldn’t turn out to support Kurt, even though sitting through what was basically an opera wasn’t something that he’d really learned to enjoy just yet. His mother was just smiling, enjoying the show, and Sue…

Finn was glad that he wasn’t the one standing on the stage, because she looked like she was getting ready to storm up there and throw Jean Valjean aside so that her favorite could have his chance on the stage. She had clearly given up on feigning politeness and was impatiently tapping her finger against her raised knee, her frown deepening with every passing moment that passed without seeing her Porcelain.

The song with the innkeeper and his wife was a riot and Finn found himself laughing out loud at their bickering and criminal antics. After Valjean waltzed off his newly adopted daughter in his arms, the stage went dark and the name of the next location, Saint Michele flashed on the backdrop along with a date that showed years were passing between the two scenes. The stage lights came on to illuminate an elaborate set of slums teaming with the lower classes that one might find in any large city. Beggars, thieves, street vendors and prostitutes gathered in the city streets. The music was decidedly more tense as they went about the actions of their daily lives. The air of crushing poverty and abject misery was unavoidable as the struggle to survive was evident to the audience.

“Look down, look down, and see the beggars at your feet,” the people cried out as they made their way as best they could. “Look down and show some mercy if you can. Look down and see the sweepings of the streets. Look down, look down, upon your fellow man!”

A young boy of about ten years old emerged from the crowd to take the center stage, dressed in tattered pants and shirt and a dirty cap topping his dark-haired head. He looked to the crowd with a cocky smile and gave a little bow.

“How do you do? My name's Gavroche,” he introduced, singing in a bright clear voice. He spread his arms wide to draw attention to the crowd clustered behind him. “These are my people, here’s my patch. Nothing to look at, nothing posh. Nothing that you’d call up to scratch.”

Several young children fell in behind him, playing pranks and making petty thefts of fruit from the vendor’s cart. They were like Gavorche, dressed in threadbare clothing but trying to make the best of things and turning the slums into their playground.

“This is my school, my high society,” Gavorche proclaimed with a proud flourish. “Here in the slums of Saint Michele. We live on crumbs of humble piety. Tough on the teeth, but what the hell!

“Think you're poor? Think you're free? Follow me, follow me!” he cried out. With a wave, he set off with the other children following in his wake, running through the crowd to disappear into one of the buildings and then seen darting across a rooftop so they could watch the goings on of the people from above.

The buildings of the set pulled apart to create a town square where throngs of people gathered and went about their daily lives, making their way as best they could.

“Look down, and show some mercy if you can,” the beggars cried out, seeking aid from those who were barely better off. “Look down, look down, upon your fellow man.”

A tall, skinny girl in a red dress stepped forward, her skirt lifted enticingly to display a long leg. She was quickly embraced by a male passerby, who pressed his hand over her breast as began to kiss her throat. Before she could take the money he was waving enticingly before her, she was suddenly pulled away from her customer and shoved from behind by a woman dressed as an ancient crone.

“What you think yer at?” the old woman demanded venomously. “Hanging round me pitch? If you're new around here, girl, you've got a lot to learn.”

The younger woman stood her ground, turning on the old beggar. “Listen you old bat! Crazy bloody witch! 'Least I give my customers some pleasure in return,” she retorted, turning to try to gain the attention of any available men.

“I know what you give!” the old woman screeched, grabbing at the prostitute and tearing at her skirts to show her pantalettes. “Give 'em all the pox! Spread around your poison till they end up in a box!”

The prostitute’s pimp saw the altercation and hurried offer to run off the old beggar. “Leave the poor old cow,” he ordered, motioning for his girl to move away. “Move it, Madeleine! She used to be no better till the clap got to her brain.”

The level of desperation in the crowd increased, as none of them saw any way out of their situation. Hope was in short supply and all that was facing them was deepening poverty and starvation. “When's it gonna end?” they pleaded, “When we gonna live? Something's gotta happen now or something's gonna give...

“It'll come, it'll come, it'll come, It'll come, it'll come, it'll come…”

Through the crowd, two figures pushed their way forward, dressed far more richly than any of the townsfolks around them. Finn sat up straight in his seat at seeing that one of them was Kurt, dressed in an elegant suit with a dark jacket and tie fixed tightly about his throat. He carried a set of books under his arm, looking over the crowd with a fierce stare of pity and anger. Another young man, dressed in a similar fashion stood at his side, though the expression on his face was decidedly less severe.

Beside him, Finn felt Sue sitting up, now focusing her full attention on the stage. Carole silently clapped her hands in anticipation and delight and he glanced over to see Burt smiling widely at his son’s presence.

Kurt’s mouth was drawn in a harsh frown as turned about, looking at the mass of desperate people. “Where the leaders of the land? Where are the swells who run this show?” he demanded fiercely, his voice ringing out in righteous anger.

The young man playing Marius reached out to grasp Kurt’s shoulder in fellowship. “Only one man, and that's Lamarque,” he answered. “Speaks for these people here below.”

The poor people of St. Michele saw the well-dressed students and clustered about them, reaching out in desperation. “See our children fed! Help us in our shame!” they pleaded. “Something for a crust of bread, in Holy Jesus' name…”

Marius looked at the crowd of beggars with a compassionate stare, handing out leaflets that he had brought with him. “Lamarque is ill and fading fast! Won't last the week out so they say,” he told his friend, which only increased the level of anger in Kurt’s expression.

He turned to the crowd and saw what could be a rising tide to wipe away the injustice that he fought against. “With all the anger in the land, how long before the judgement day? Before we cut the fat ones down to size?” he spat ferociously, slashing his hand as if imitating a blade.

“Before the barricades arise?”

Kurt’s voice rang out gloriously through the theater, and Finn felt chills running down his spine. He had never seen his brother like that, expressing so much fury. He couldn’t remember ever hearing Kurt sing with so much power, his voice expressing all of his character’s anger over the injustice that he was witness to every day. Enjolras was so unlike Kurt in nature, expressing so much rage and righteousness. With just a few powerfully performed lines, Kurt stood out like a force of nature.

Sue’s strong hand suddenly grasped his again so tightly that it hurt. He turned in surprise to see her eyes wide and riveted to the stage, fixed totally on Kurt. His brother hovered hovering in the background handing out pamphlets to the poor while Marius flirted with Cosette and the Thénardier gang looked to rob Valjean before being run off by the police. She looked absolutely transfixed and the smile on her face for once didn’t have the edge of cruelty that he was so used to seeing.

Finn had always known that Kurt was one of Sue’s favored few, something he never begrudged his brother because he knew that Sue’s favor could be a double-edged sword. But even with that knowledge, her response to seeing him on stage was unexpected. It was so pure and genuine, and Finn knew that there was only a tiny percentage of people in this world that might garner such a reaction from the fearsome woman. Her sister, most certainly, had been one. And Becky. To know that Kurt had earned that as well gratified Finn quite a bit. However hard Kurt’s life had been, unquestionably it was made marginally better by having Sue Sylvester in his corner.

* * *

Kurt hadn’t quite known how it would feel during their first official performance, but it was nothing like even their final dress rehearsal. He felt almost high. He wasn’t so much playing Enjolras but channeling his revolutionary fire. He rode on the tide of Enjolras’s emotions, taking control of his compatriots and urging them towards taking up the fight against the government troops. It took coercion and a bit of browbeating, but even moon-eyed Marius was no longer resisting.

“Red, a world about to dawn!” the entire group sand passionately and Marius stepped forward to grasp Kurt’s hand, making it clear that he would stand with his friend. “Black, the night that ends at last!”

They finished to a rousing cheer and Kurt began to bark out orders, darting across the stage and sending the men into a flurry of action. There was no question of who the leader and Kurt expressed an air of well-honed authority over the other members of their group. “Well, Courfeyrac, do we have all the guns?” he demanded, before turning to the others. “Feuilly, Combeferre, our time is running short.

“Grantaire, put the bottle down!” he snapped fiercely, causing the drunkard to wave off his command dismissively and take a long gulp. “Do we have the guns we need?”

“Give me brandy on my breath and I’ll breathe them all to death,” Grantaire boasted playfully, earning a playful shove from one of the others.

Courfeyrac rushed forward to report, “In St. Antoine they’re with us to a man!”

“In Notre Dame, they’re tearing up the stones!” Combeferre reported happily, grasping the hand of Courfeyrac joyously.

“Twenty rifles good as new!” Feuilly called out, holding up their red banner proudly.

Through all the activity, Kurt remained dangerously calm as if he were the eye of a hurricane that was about to sweep down over Paris. He almost didn’t hear Gavroche coming in and yelling, “Listen!”

Joly was checking their ammunition stores. “Twenty rounds for every man!” he reported.

“Listen to me!” Gavroche cried out, nearly ignored as the men continued their reports.

“Double that in Port St. Cloud!”

“Listen everybody!” Gavroche yelled.

Lesgles hurried in. “Seven guns in St. Martin!”

Gavroche grasped Kurt’s arm, forcing his attention. When Kurt finally looked down at him, the boy said with somber quietness, “General Lamarque is dead!”

The group fell silent, shocked at the news, however unexpected, that the champion of the poor was gone. One of the young men who’d been wearing a cap and took it off and the men bowed their heads in respect, giving a moment of silence for the man that had embodied all of their ideals. Kurt got a faraway look in his eyes as the gravity of what this really meant struck home.

“Lemarque is dead,” he breathed almost in disbelief. He paused, letting it sink in before driving what this would bring about struck home before allowing himself to smile. “Lemarque! His death is the hour of fate! The people’s man. His death is the sign we await!”

He gathered the group, the other men listing intently to his every word. Kurt’s expression became one of dangerous anticipation. Kurt strode over to a set of steps and climbed up so that all could see him as he rallied them to action.

“On his funeral day they will honor his name,” he commanded the group as they watched intently. Even Grantaire, who stood back from the others watched carefully. “It’s a rallying cry that will reach every ear! In the death of Lemarque we will kindle the flame! They will see that the day of salvation is near!

“The time is near!” Kurt belted, his voice soaring with a strength that he was sure would be surprising to those who might have only noted his youthful appearance. He was a lion, uniting the Friends of the ABC and pushing them towards their mission with a fist raised in defiance. “Let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer! Let us take the streets with no doubt in our hearts, but a jubilant shout! They will come, one and all! They will come when we call!”

The music drew to a dramatic close and the Friends of the ABC cheered and embraced on another now that the moment that they’d awaited appeared to finally have arrived. Kurt managed to keep from responding to the rousing applause of the audience, focused on keeping Enjolras’s pride and fervor fixed on his features. Knowing that his family was there watching him at that moment, seeing him standing on that magnificent stage and performing to the best of his ability meant more than he could ever express.

When the music began again, the members of the group began to chatter excitedly, but Kurt closed his eyes and lowered his hand, motioning for them the allowed a quiet intensity to take hold.

“Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men?” he began, letting the power in his voice reach throughout the theater. “It is the music of the people who will not be slaves again!”

He pressed his hand over his heart, clutching his waistcoat and emphasizing the importance of this one moment in their lives. “When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!”

His fervor seemed to feed into the passion of the other players as they fell in behind him, excited that the moment they’d been awaiting had finally arrived. Combeferre rallied the group to Enjolras, his expression bright with excitement as their leader stepped down the stairs.

“Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me?” he demanded, placing his hand confidently on Kurt’s shoulder to prove that he was firmly with Enjolras. “Beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see?”

Courfeyrac joined them, holding out a rifle to Kurt. “Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!”

Kurt grasped the rifle and raised it over his head to the cheers of his fellows and lead the group to march about the stage. Even Grantaire followed along, though he appeared to be more enjoying the show than believed in their cause. The set parted to reveal the transition from the interior of a disreputable café to the square where townsfolk began to fall in behind the young men as they marched through the streets. Men danced with young women, twirling them about joyously as an air of celebration took hold.

“Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men?” the group sang, inspiring men and women to fall in behind them, joining in. “It is the music of the people who will not be slaves again!”

Kurt lead them along, raising the rifle in defiance, his face set in a proud smile. He was the clear leader, gathering evermore followers with every moment that passed.

“When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!”

Feuilly was standing on a balcony so he could look out over the crowd that had gathered, imploring them to join. “Will you give all you can give, so that our banner may advance?” he pleaded, his strong tenor voice ringing out. “Some will fall and some will live. Will you stand up and take your chance?

“The blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France!” He raised their red banner before dropping it down to be grabbed by one of the others.

One of the group had brought out the revolutionary banner on a pole and began to wave it as the group marched about the stage with Kurt in the lead, his voice lifted in rousing song as the revolutionary students followed in his way. The performance was so rousing that members of the audience began to sing along, inspired by the performance on the stage.

“Do you hear the people sing?, singing a song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again!” the group sang proudly, their banner flying and the air on the stage taking on a celebratory mood. “When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!”

Kurt lead the group off stage, feeling the wild buzzing in his head from the powerful emotions and needed a moment to tamp down on the wild energy that he was picking up from the performance. Handing off the rifle to one of the prop techs, he took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to center himself. He had a few minutes while the Cosette and Marius duet was underway to get himself back under control and prepare for the next scene. He hurried to the quick-change area, knowing that he had only ten minutes before the his next cue.

* * *

Sue got up without a word to the Hummels when the houselights came on for intermission, needing to step outside for a moment and gather her thoughts for a bit. The past few hours had been astonishing for her.

She thought back to times long ago. When her Porcelain was so much younger, and she’d first taken him under her barbed wire wings. She appreciated his sharp wit and his cunning that reminded her of herself at times. He had always impressed her with his brash courage and determination to be himself no matter what anyone else said or did. He needed protection against the small-minded idiots who thought that just because he was gay that it gave them license to torment him every waking moment. Offering him a place on her squad was the best way she could protect him, because no one dared try anything with one of hers. It was when he tried to fly on his own that bad things had happened; things that she often couldn’t control.

Seeing him now, standing on that stage like he was born to be there caused something to bubble up in her that she wasn’t sure that she wanted to examine too closely. Maybe it was just indigestion.

“This is turning out to be some kind of night, isn’t it?” a voice said behind her.

Sue couldn’t help from smiling before turning about. “Burt, you should know better than to sneak up on me.”

The burly man just shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said blandly. “You kind of rushed out.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, letting a trace of sharpness enter her voice. She never was one for soft feelings or concern from others.

Burt didn’t press further, knowing Sue well enough not to. It wasn’t as if they were really friends, but they had an odd mutual respect and understanding. Not to mention a particular shared personal interest.

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and looked about the theater lobby. “You know, it’s going to mean a lot of Kurt that you came tonight,” he informed her. “Me too.”

She couldn’t help from snorting in amusing. “That would be a first. People usually aren’t happy to see me,” she acknowledged. She wasn’t embarrassed about that. Her reputation was, without question, a well-earned one. And one that she was actually proud of.

Burt smiled and nodded. “Well, Kurt will be,” he assured her honestly. He looked about the lobby, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

“You know, I never did thank you.”

She looked up in surprise. “Whatever for?”

Burt pursed his lips thoughtfully, wanting to make sure that he chose just the right words. “For everything you did for Kurt when he was at McKinley,” he clarified. “With everything that he went through, I don’t know if he would have made it without you. You were one of the few people really willing to go to bat for him and we’ve never forgotten that.”

He approached her carefully, knowing that despite her tendency to overstep boundaries, she was sensitive to having her personal space invaded. She almost shivered when his hand gently touched her arm and looked into his face in astonishment.

Burt smiled gently. “Kurt is standing on that stage, in no small part, because of you. You may have gone about it in strange ways, but you encouraged him and supported him when not many others did. I just wanted you to know that. And to thank you for being there for my son.”

He stepped back, giving her space to compose herself. “I’d better get back inside,” he said with a huff. “The curtain will be going up soon.”

She nodded, inhaling deeply. “I’ll be in in just a minute,” she assured him.

Burt nodded in approval. “Good. Because Kurt’s going to be thrilled when he finds out that you were here on his opening night.”

Sue stood in the lobby, deep in thought as she tried to absorb what had just happened. She then gave herself a hard mental shake to get the cerebral cobwebs sorted out.

She barely made it back to her seat in time for the curtain to rise.

* * *

If anyone was to ask her afterwards what she most enjoyed about the show, Rachel knew what she would say. She couldn’t help from feeling thrilled to being on stage with Kurt and getting to watch him perform. Not that their characters would interact at all, but it felt good to be there with him along with Analisa, Katya and Jamie. Jamie would be playing one of the townsmen supporting the revolutionary students, while she and the girls played local women.

Despite the tension of the last battle, the atmosphere on the stage was one of quiet waiting for the next conflict and mourning over Eponine’s tragic death. As far as the students knew, Javert had met a just end at Valjean’s hands and they could take a moment of rest.

Seeing Kurt fully immersed in his character and portraying Enjolras so compellingly filled Rachel with joy and it was a pleasure… no, an honor to share the stage with him. She hoped that everyone sitting in that audience would realize that having the opportunity to watch him performing at this level was a real privilege.

For herself, she recognized what a gift it was to see it from such close range.

“Courfeyrac, you take the watch,” Kurt ordered with quiet gravity. “They won’t attack until it’s light.”

He looked around to the group. “Everyone stay awake. We must be ready for the fight. For our final fight. Let no one sleep tonight.”

Kurt’s voice took on a seriousness, as if realizing just what would be facing them at the dawn. “Marius… rest,” he commanded, placing a gentle hand on the other man’s shoulder. Rachel could only marvel quietly at the gentle strength in Kurt’s voice and keep her mind on her own performance.

Feuilly was seated at a broken table that had been set up next to the barricade and looked about at his tired, anguished friends and raised his bottle, hoping to cheer their spirits. “Drink with me, to days gone by,” he proposed. “Sing with me, the songs we knew.”

“Here’s to pretty girls who went to our heads,” Prouvaire toasted, snatching the bottle from Feuilly and raising it in tribute to the women who’d come out to support them.

“Here’s to witty girls who went to our beds,” Joly praised, catching a laughing Analisa and spinning her about before taking her in his arms.

“Here’s to them, and here’s to you,” the men sang gently, offering sad smiles to one another.

Grantaire staggered to his feet and raised his bottle mockingly to his friends. “Drink with me, to days gone by? Can it be you fear to die?” he demanded turning about to cast his accusing gaze on all of them. Some of the men took offense at Grantaire’s ridicule and Combeferre grasped him by the lapels of his jacket and shoved him away. The others shouted him down, angered at his pessimism.

Kurt shouldered his rifle and approached Grantaire, alarmed at the troubled man’s demeanor and tried to grasp his arm in support. Grantaire looked directly at him with sorrowful eyes. “Will the world remember you when you fall? Could it be your death means nothing at all? Is your life just one more lie?” he asked sadly, ignoring Kurt’s arms held open in an attempt to make peace with his friend.

Grantaire brushed him away and stormed past him, blaming Enjolras for landing them in this perilous situation and wanting nothing to do with him at the moment. One of them men hurried over to his side and pulled him into a comforting embrace.

Kurt watched Grantaire walk away from him and with sad resignation slowly climbed the barricade to take a position where he could both watch out for attack and keep an eye on his men. It was starting to become clear that the burdens of leadership were widening the rift between Enjolras and his friends.

The whole group on stage began to sing, with the women singing in counterpoint that added a lovely layer to the bittersweet melody. “Drink with me, to days gone by. To the life that used to be,” they sang.

Rachel smiled dreamily, and rested her head against the shoulder of one of the men who had his arm about her waist. “At the shrine of friendship never say die,” she sang along with the rest of women.

“Let the wine of friendship never run dry,” the men sang and some lead their chosen ladies off the stage for one last hurried tryst before the coming battle.

“Here’s to you… and here’s to me….”

Marius looked about the stage, finding no comfort with his friends as his thoughts were upon someone he thought lost to him. “Do I care if I should die?” he questioned sadly. “Now she goes across the sea…

“Life without Cosette means nothing at all. Will you weep, Cosette, should Marius fall? Will you weep, Cosette, for me?”

As the revolutionaries settled in to rest for the night, it gave Rachel a chance to just enjoy the performance of “Bring Him Home”. Unquestionably the actor playing Valjean was an exceptional talent and he sang the song beautifully, expressing all of the heartache and hope that the song demanded. But she couldn’t help from comparing his rendition to Kurt’s, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that she would always consider her friend’s interpretation the gold standard. It didn’t matter that Kurt’s performance had led to a very painful downfall for her, because she’d very much deserved after the shameful way she had treated him. It was because Kurt was just that damn good.

She leaned against the body of the young man playing her lover and just savored the feeling of what they all were accomplishing.

* * *

Finn was leaning forward, watching intently as the stage lights softly glowed to give the impression of the coming dawn. Kurt was standing at the top of the barricade; Enjolras having stood watch all night and waiting for the people of Paris to rally behind them. The realization that no reinforcements were coming was striking Enjolras hard, evident by the bewildered and nearly lost expression on Kurt’s face.

He looked down at his followers from his spot on the barricade, the others looking to him for answers when he had none to give them. To see that behind the powerful revolutionary leader was a very young boy who’d gotten himself and his friends in way over their heads was a striking moment. “The people have not stirred,” he sang quietly, the realization that they were truly alone in this fight sinking in. “ We are abandoned by those who still live in fear. The people have not heard…”

Kurt inhaled deeply, visibly tamping down in the fear that Enjolras had to be feeling and trying to portray resolve and keep his people from panicking. “Yet we will not abandon those who cannot hear,” he assured his followers, trying to force a trace of confidence into his voice. “Let us not waste lives.

“Let all the women and fathers of children go from here,” he ordered, motioning for them to retreat.

The realization of what Enjolras’s orders entailed was not lost on his followers and the atmosphere about the barricade took on the feeling of a wake. Feuilly tried to instill a sense of hope in his fellows, smiling sadly as he raised his voice gently in song. “Drink with me to days gone by,” he urged. “Sing with me the songs we knew…”

The supporters that Enjolras was sending away realized that they were very likely leaving their friends and loved ones to face nearly certain death and there were hurried embraces and tears and kisses as they reluctantly withdrew from the fight. Their voices rang out softly as they unwillingly stepped away, lingering as long as they dared but finally leaving the fighters behind.

“At the shrine of friendship, raise your glass high,” they sang mournfully. “Let the wine of friendship never run dry. If I die… I die with you…”

No sooner that the noncombatants fled to safety that the fighting renewed. The revolutionaries hurried to their places on the barricade and fired desperately at the government troops. Kurt fired off several rounds before scrambling to the ground and getting reports of their status.

“How do we stand, Feuilly?” he demanded, his voice rising over the sounds of gunfire. “Make your report!”

The other young man appeared quite worried. “We’ve guns enough, but ammunition short,” he confirmed, causing Kurt to bow his head in despair when he realized just how dire their situation truly was.

Marius rushed up to Kurt. “Let me go into the streets,” he suggested urgently. “There are bodies all around. Ammunition to be had. Lots of bullets to be found!”

Kurt shook his head sternly, grasping Marius’s arm to keep him from climbing over the barricade. “I won’t let you go. It’s too much of a chance,” he insisted, not wanting to put his closest friend into more danger than they were already in. The other man would not be deterred, which told Finn just how dismal a position they found themselves in.

“The same is true for any man here!” Marius claimed firmly, refusing to let Enjolras place his life above any of the others.

“Let me go,” Valjean offered, willing to sacrifice himself to save his daughter’s love. “He’s no more than a boy. I am old. I have nothing to fear.”

The expression on Kurt’s face became pained at the realization that whoever he sent over the wall would likely meet their death and found it nearly impossible to choose. Send an older man who had proven himself to be a true ally or his dearest friend. But he reluctantly nodded and grasped Valjean’s hand. Before either man could do anything, it became apparent to the audience that the choice was to be taken out of Enjolras’s hands.

Gavroche scrambled to the top of the barricade and called out to the others, “You need someone quicker, and I volunteer!” he called out, ignoring the shouts of refusal from Kurt and the others before sliding over the wall.

Kurt rushed to the top of the barricade, trying to stop the boy but he was too late. The men shouted for Gavroche to come back, but the boy would not be deterred. From behind the wall, Finn could hear the boy singing as he sought to obtain the supplies that the revolutionaries so badly needed.

“So never kick a dog because he’s just a pup,” the boy warned, his voice echoing as the others watched helplessly. Shots fired and Finn could imagine the child ducking for cover while he tried to finish his mission. “We’ll fight like twenty armies and we won’t give up! So you’d better run for cover when the pup grows…”

A single shot rang out, causing Finn to flinch and the boy’s voice fell silent. Grantaire fell to his knees, covering his face in anguish. The men on the barricade bowed their heads in sorrow, giving the brave young boy a moment of silence in honor of his heroism. Valjean crossed himself, heartbroken that a child born into poverty never had the chance for anything better. Before they could properly mourn the child, a trumpet sounded to warn them to take up arms again.

“You on the barricade, listen to this!” a French military officer called out to the fighters from the other side of the wall. “The people of Paris sleep in their beds. You have no chance! No chance at all! Why throw your lives away?”

Kurt turned to his men, his face set in grim determination when he realized that their time had run out. “Let us die facing our foes,” he urged, drawing his followers close to him. “Make them bleed while we can.”

The men cheered, ready to take the fight to the government forces. “Make ‘em pay for every man!” Courfeyrac shouted in anger. Kurt nodded, his mouth drawing into a harsh snarl.

“Let others rise to take our place,” Kurt roared, clenching his fist in defiance. “Until the earth is free!”

The battle was chaotic, with men racing up the barricade and firing on the troops beyond them. Kurt stood at the top, firing his gun until he saw that Marius had fallen, wounded. Lights flashed to give the impression of gun and cannon fire and smoke drifted in the air. Dropping his weapon, Kurt jumped from the barricade and fell to his friend’s side, seeing that the wound was severe and Marius was apparently unconscious. Around him, bodies began to fall as more of his friends were struck down.

Hi face set in grim determination, Kurt clambered back up to the top of the barricade and grasped the pole for their flag. He pulled it free and waved it in defiance, to urge the men to fight on when his body suddenly jerked and Finn nearly cried out. Despite knowing the fate that awaited Kurt’s character, he was still taken by shock to see it actually happen. The flag fell Kurt’s his hand as his body slumped over. The lights flashed as the rest of the men met their fatal ends, the music reaching a crescendo as the fight drew to a close with the passionate students lying dead where they fell.

Finn felt himself gasp for breath, not liking the sight of his brother laying so still, even though he knew it was just pretend. Burt’s expression was one of shock, even though he’d know what would happen to Kurt’s character and his mother didn’t bother to hide her sniffling. He didn’t dare look at Sue or try to gage her reaction. If she caught him seeing her in an emotionally vulnerable state, there wouldn’t be a place he could hide.

That had been an amazing scene, because it had looked so much like a real battle, but he knew that applauding at that moment probably wasn’t the best thing to do at the moment. The scene was still ongoing, with Jean Valjean saving Marius and dragging him to safety. But he wanted to give Kurt’s and the other men playing the doomed fighters some kind of ovation. That was one of the most amazing, heartbreaking things he’d ever seen on a stage and it felt odd to just follow along with the story afterwards.

He was familiar with the musical, so the following scenes played out much the way he expected. The final confrontation between Valjean and Javert was incredibly compelling, the officer finally recognizing that the man that he’d pursued for so long was not the hardened criminal that he’d always believed and that he’d relentlessly haunted a man who hadn’t deserved it. Seeing the man’s generosity so many times, even having his own life spared and unable to accept that he’d been wrong for so long was impossible for him to stand and he threw himself into the river to die.

Good riddance, Finn thought to himself. No matter that he recognized his error, Javert was still an asshole. But he could admire the very neat effect in how the lights were used to give the illusion of the man falling from a great height to his death.

The next scene was the immediate aftermath of the battle as a group of women dressed in mourning clothes arrived at the site of the great battle, carrying small candles of remembrance. They found the remains of the barricade, with no trace of the young men that had fought there save for someone’s tricolored sash and the shredded red flag laying on the ground. One woman had a young girl at her side, letting the child hold the candle. He could see that one of them was Rachel, who looked incredibly sad as she and the others surveyed the wreckage around them and contemplated the sad loss of so many promising lives.

The music was soft and mournful as the women paid tribute to the young men that had died, placing down the candles respectfully on the ground. One of them looked about, her expression sorrowful as she tried to absorb the impact of what had happened there.

“Did you see them going off to fight?” she sang plaintively, kneeling down and crossing herself. “Children of the barricade who didn’t last the night.”

Another woman wiped at her eyes with the corner of her shawl as she placed her candle down on the floor. “Did you see them lying where they died?” she asked. “Someone used to cradle them, and kiss them when they cried.”

“Did you see them, lying side by side?” a pretty black girl sang, and Finn mentally identified her as one of Kurt’s friends from class.

“Who will wake them?” a young Asian woman sang sadly. “No one ever will.”

Rachel came to her side and placed a comforting arm about her. “No one ever told them that a summer day can kill,” she sang mournfully, her voice ringing out clearly like a bell.

Another woman shook her head sadly. “They were schoolboys. Never held a gun,” she reminded the others, bringing home the enormity of the tragedy and just how misguided their fight might have been. “Fighting for a new world that would rise up like the sun.

“Where’s that new world now the fighting’s done?”

One woman sighed, wrapping herself tightly in her dark shawl. “Nothing changes, nothing ever will,” she reminded the others sharply, her disappointment over the failed revolution evident. “Every year another brat, another mouth to fill.”

“Same old story, what’s the use of tears?” she demanded, grief warring with anger on her severe features. “What’s the use of praying of there’s nobody who hears.”

“Turning, turning, turning, turning through the years…” the group sang regretfully, those who had been kneeling rising to their feet and walking slowly in a wide circle that looked nearly like a dance as they trailed off the stage.

“Round and round the roundabout and back where you began… round and round and back where you began…”

As the women filed off the stage, Marius reappeared, dressed formally once again in a dark suit befitting his social status and leaning heavily on a wooden cane as he limped to the small memorial that the women had left behind. He looked exhausted, in pain and inconsolable as he faced the place where all of his friends had died. Finn could not imagine how it must feel, to be the last of them left alive and having to go on with his life.

Marius looked about, not attempting to hide the anguish on his face. “There’s a grief that can’t be spoken,” he sang, his voice breaking slightly to express the deep sadness in the young man. “There’s a pain goes on and on… Empty chairs at empty tables. Now my friends are dead and gone.”

He looked up at the sign for the café where they had previously gathered, and Finn could see the tears running down his cheeks. “Here they talked of revolution,” he reminded the audience. “Here it was they lit the flame. Here they sang about tomorrow, and tomorrow never came.”

Finn found himself wiping at his own eyes, feeling the man’s sorrow nearly viscerally. He had some wonderful friends that he counted as brothers and the idea of losing them all in one moment struck him at his core. The idea of waking up and finding out that Sam and Puck and… he bit his lip. To imagine that Kurt was gone tore at him. Even imagining so many wonderful people having their futures cut short, and all their amazing potential lost was absolutely heartrending.

“From the table in the corner, they could see a world reborn,” Marius reminisced, reminding the audience of the idealism that his fellows had shared. That they had truly wanted to remake the world into a more fair, just place. “They could see a world reborn. And they rose with voices ringing! I can hear them now!

“The very words that they had sung became their last communion. On the lowly barricade, at dawn…”

Marius’s voice broke, his grief overwhelming him with the crushing realization that he truly was the last one.

Behind Marius, through the darkness Finn could see figures emerging and his breath caught in his throat. Kurt was the most easily recognizable, his white shirt and red vest making him stand out as the ghosts of the deceased stepped into view, but they were all there. Enjolras, Grantaire, Gavroche… They calmly surrounded Marius, standing quietly as Marius battled the burden of guilt over being the only one to survive.

“Oh my friends… my friends,” Marius wept pleadingly. “Forgive me!”

One by one, the ghosts bent to pick up the memorial candles.

“That I live and you are gone,” Marius lamented. “There’s a grief that can’t be spoken. There’s a pain goes on and on.

“Oh my friends… my friends,” Marius cried out while the ghosts raised the candles high before swiftly blowing them out. “Don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for.”

The ghosts began to slip back into the darkness, fading out of view. Kurt had been the first to appear and the last to follow them, lingering with his closest friend for another half beat before slipping away.

As if sensing that he was alone again, Marius bowed his head in sorrow. “Empty chairs at empty tables. Where my friends will sing no more…”

Finn heard his mother’s sniffles and he reached out to take her hand. Burt was wiping at his eyes and even Sue was biting her lower lip to keep her emotions in check. It had been a powerful performance and the applause from the audience was well deserved.

He took a deep breath and readied himself for what he knew would be an amazing finale.

* * *

Kurt was grateful to have a few moments to rest before the finale and enjoy watching the rest of the show from the wings. His friends in the ensemble had hurried to make a quick change to ballgowns and suits for the wedding scene and were currently changing costumes for the final time. He found Rachel and the others emerging from the quick-change area and couldn’t help from pulling them into a group hug.

“We’re almost there,” he promised. They were only moments away from the final song and the dye would be cast. They had done their best and given the performances of their lives. Hopefully it would be well received because they’d worked so hard for so long.

From their place behind a screen that would shield them from the audience, they could watch Sean giving Jean Valjean the kind of glorious send off that the character deserved. Valjean was ready to face death, having secured Cosette’s future happiness with Marius and rose to join the ghosts of Fantine and Eponine.

“Take my hand, and lead me to salvation,” they sang gently while Cosette wept over her father’s death. Marius tried to comfort her while mourning the man who had saved his live. “Take my love, for love is everlasting.”

Valjean was looking upwards as a warm spotlight encased them in an ethereal glow. The lines of worry on his face seemed to fade as he faced his reward for a life well-lived. Kurt had to admit that the effect was quite engaging and would look remarkable from the audience.

On the stage, Cosette and Marius began to read the letter than Valjean had given her, holding one another close while Fantine and Eponine lead Valjean to his heavenly reward. “And remember, the truth that once was spoken. To love another person is to see the face of God...”

Kurt felt Rachel reaching over to squeeze his hand as the backlights came up behind them, giving them a ghostly appearance to the audience.

“Do you hear the people sing,” all of them began, their voices soft as if drifting on a breeze. “Lost in the valley of the night. It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light.

“For the wretched of the earth, there is a flame that never dies. Even the darkest night will end, and the sun will rise.”

The screen raised so that the audience could fully see the figures of the entire cast, all the characters that had died and the ensemble players that had filled the stage. The street children, the bishop who’d been so kind to Jean Valjean, all the Friends of the ABC… even Javert joined them, having found some small redemption. Kurt stepped out proudly, flanked by his friends and castmates.

“They will live again in freedom in the garden of the Lord,” they sang, the sheer number of voices creating a layered wall of sound that, from Kurt’s perspective, sounded absolutely gorgeous. He looked out from the stage, seeing the audience beyond the lights and knew that the performers were giving them what they had come for.

“They will walk behind the plough share. They will put away the sword. The chain will be broken, and all men will have their reward!”

The cast step up to fall in line with Valjean, Eponine and Fantine, the three of them joining in with the full cast. Cosette and Marius joined in the singing and the entire cast launched into full voice.

“Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me?” Kurt sang out, trying to keep in character and not let the joyous smile that was threatening to escape touch his features. “Somewhere beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see?”

He puffed out his chest proudly and squared his shoulders, placing a comradely hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Do you hear the people sing? Say, do you hear the distant drums. It is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes!”

The cast stepped to the front of the stage, filling it with their numbers and filling the theater with the glorious chorus of their voices. Now there were no stars or leads. There was just a group of people who had lived and endured and left their own mark on the world. Behind them, the lights glowed warm in tones of gold and red, giving the impression of a rising sun.

“Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me? Somewhere beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see? Do you hear the people sing? Say, do you hear the distant drums? It is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes!”

He felt dampness on his cheeks and realized that he was crying. But that didn’t stop him from giving everything he had for the final notes. The entire cast threw their full beings into the last words, wanting to leave an indelible impression on those who had come to see them.

“Ohhhh….. ohhhh…. Tomorrow… comes!”

When the last note finally faded, Kurt almost didn’t hear the audience through the buzzing in his ears. He felt oddly detached, as if watching what was happening from some distant position and not standing on that stage. He saw the audience getting to their feet and applauding and cheering and it took him a moment to really grasp just what he and the others had accomplished that night. When his head cleared, the roar of applause was positively thunderous.

They had rehearsed the curtain call so that it would run smoothly. The group stepped back so that everyone would have their chance to take a bow and bask in the audience’s regard. Members of the ensemble were first, going forward in groups of ten and were surprisingly orderly for such a large group while the other members of the cast applauded their peers and gave them the respect that they deserved.

He watched as Rachel went out with other women of the ensemble, including Analisa, Katya and Mei, bowing and taking in the standing ovation. The expression on the girls’ faces was absolutely radiant and Rachel especially looked thrilled. He clapped for them, unable to resist giving a hoot of support for his friends.

The men in the ensemble went next, and Kurt cheered for Jamie and Tommy and Mitchel. All of the child actors then stepped forward, with special acknowledgement made for the ones who’d played Gavroche and the younger versions of and Eponine that night. He was so happy for them to have this kind of opportunity so early in their acting careers. He hoped that they remembered this night and that it would inspire them going forward for years to come.

It then became time for the named characters to take their bows and Kurt felt himself all but quivering as he waited for his turn. When the Friends of the ABC stepped forward, he was at the center of the line and couldn’t help from smiling when the applause from the audience seemed to grow louder. Each of them was given a chance to bow as individuals and as the leader of the group, Kurt was last. When it was his turn, the others stepped back and left Kurt to stand at the center of that large stage by himself, feeling the full weight of the audience’s regards and they cheered and clapped for him. His throat tight from holding in his emotions, he bowed again, one hand over his heart before stepping back to join the others.

Once the cast was done, a smiling Professor Carmody stepped out onto the stage and was applauded by both the audience and the cast for her tremendous accomplishment. She joined her students for one last bow as a group before the curtain came down, shielding them from the audience’s view. Behind the heavy velvet, Kurt could hear the muffled applause that only died down when the house lights came on.

Professor Carmody turned to her cast with a tired but satisfied smile on her face. “I’m not going to waste your time with congratulations, because you know how well you did,” she advised. She wiped at her eyes, brushing away joyous tears. “Go get yourselves cleaned up, because there’s a hell of a party waiting for all of you.

“Make sure that all of your costumes and props are accounted for,” she instructed firmly. “Don’t make the tech teams’ job harder than it needs to be. Be ready in an hour for the buses to take us to the gala. Miss them and you’re on your own getting there.” With another smile, she left her cast to get themselves sorted out.

With an exhausted sigh of relief the whole group fell into excited chatter as they turned to congratulate one another. Kurt felt many pats on his back and words of praise and he returned them whole heartedly. He found his friends, giving Jamie a tight hug of friendship as they congratulated on another. He ruffled Tommy’s hair, hugged Analisa and Katya and Mei… his eyes darted about for Rachel, seeing her talking with some of the other girls from the ensemble.

Watching her being part of a group, treating other performers as peers rather than supporters made Kurt’s heart swell. For all that he believed that Rachel had truly changed, there was still a faint question mark hanging over her. It was one thing for her not to set herself in direct competition with him, but how she would behave with people who truly would be competition for her… other actresses who had their own aspirations and goals was the real challenge. He knew that she had set this up as a challenge for herself; a test to see if she could really handle being in a supporting role with grace and give the show everything she could. That she succeeded beyond anyone’s expectations made him thrilled on her behalf.

He hurried to her side and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close and pressing his face against her hair. She clutched at him tightly, her face against his shoulder and trembling slightly from the overflow of emotions. Kurt’s own emotions were cascading wildly through his brain and he felt that he might just fall apart without Rachel’s presence to ground him. They just held one another, trying to find a small eye of calm in a sea of activity around them.

Neither of the said a word, because there was nothing that needed to be said between them. They would praise one another’s performances later on, when they had a chance to mentally regroup. For now, all Kurt wanted to do was savor her presence and ponder how grateful he was to have shared this incredible experience with her.

They didn’t want to let go of one another, not with the heady emotions still bubbling up within them. But as the other members of the cast began to disperse and the tech teams moved to close things down for the night, they knew that they couldn’t hold onto that moment forever. But letting go of one another didn’t change things. They parted with the full knowledge of what they’d accomplished.

“We’d better start getting ready,” Rachel sighed, loosening her hold on her best friend and dabbing at her tearing eyes. “I don’t know about you, but there is no way I’m going to be late for this party. Not with that amazing dress you picked out for me.”

He couldn’t help from chuckling tiredly, bending to kiss her forehead. “I’ll see you in a little bit. Go make yourself gorgeous,” he urged with a smile.

He retreated to his dressing room where his castmates were busy cleaning up and getting ready for the party. When Kurt entered the cramped room, the other young men looked up and welcomed him with a rousing cheer.

“Hey, nice for you to join us fearless leader,” Ryan teased, having already stripped down to his shorts.

“Jezz, Ryan… put some fucking clothes on,” Eddie, who played Grantaire complained, throwing a dirty hand towel at the other man.

Jack grinned broadly. “Kurt, that was some job you did,” he praised. “It was really fantastic.”

“Thanks,” Kurt said thankfully, stripping off his shirt. “Everyone was amazing. You all did such a great job… it gave me something to measure up to.”

He would have loved a shower but there was no time for that. A spot wash with a damp cloth to get the sweat off his skin would have to suffice. He got all the stage paint off his face, taking special care to cleanse his skin and moisturize to keep his complexion from looking too ruddy. There wasn’t a whole lot that he could do with the mess that was his hair except bush it out and use some spray to try to hold it into place so that he didn’t look like a dust mop.

He checked the time on his phone and saw that Adam was probably only midway through the second act for his show. Knowing that they wouldn’t be able to talk until much later in the evening, he sent a quick text.

Just got off stage a few minutes ago. Think that things went pretty well. Will call you later tonight. Love you.

He hit “send” with a sigh. No use moping about what he couldn’t do anything about. There was a message from his brother that the show was great and they would see him at the party. That definitely improved his mood considerably.

“Hey Kurt, you’d better hurry up,” Ryan urged as he dressed. “Don’t want to miss the bus.”

Kurt smiled and nodded. “Give me five,” he requested, getting up from his table. While he wished that he could see Adam and be able to celebrate with him, there was no use dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. Adam would want him to enjoy himself and not fixate on his partner’s absence. He had a lot of people to celebrate with and this promised to be a wonderful evening. Adam would be the first person to urge him to go out, peacock a little and enjoy himself even if he couldn’t be there.

By the time the actors and crew loaded up onto the buses, Kurt’s mood had decidedly lightened. He was dressed in a fabulous suit and off to celebrate their successful performance. He was surrounded by friends and castmates and it was hard to feel badly about the one blemish on what had been an amazing evening. He deserved the chance to look back on what he’d just accomplished with pride and Adam would be the last person in the world to begrudge him that chance.

There would be many things to celebrate together when Adam returned home. This would be one more thing they could add to the list.

A/N - I was very fortunate to find video of a chapter that matched nearly exactly how I envisioned this production - staging, costuming and performances. If you want a clearer look at how I saw NYADA's production to play out, it's worth watching. The production was done in Madrid and entirely in Spanish and is very well worth watching.

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=les+miserables+madrid

#kadam fic #learning to fly #kurt hummel #adam crawford #rachel berry #burt hummel #finn hudson #carole hudson #sue sylvester #carmen tibideaux #nyada students #original characters #not blaine or klaine friendly

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