I AM SO UNBELIEVABLY SORRY GUYS! I said a few weeks and it's been much longer. But I'm back now and I'm so sorry for leaving you at that kind of cliffhanger. I'm not quite finished with writing it yet, so updates aren't going to be more than once a week, but I promise that I will be updating once a week to get this story to you.
I hope this is a good make-up chapter. Thank you for waiting for me!
I had completely forgotten until now, but if any of you want to swing by my Tumblr and chat, my url is Whimsical-in-the-Brainpan. Hope to hear from you!
Chapter One: Stop Me
Grantaire forced himself to walk slowly and smoothly, all the way from the bar to his car. He didn't run any red lights, or go an inch over the speed limit. Even getting out of his car and walking through the Earl, he tried to maintain some form of normalcy. It was only when he hit the staircase up to his apartment, with no windows, did his panic start to show. He bolted up the stairs two at a time, scrambling frantically to get up to his apartment. It was all he could do to check that their spare key had been safely removed before opening the door with his own set of keys and bolting in.
Inside, the living room was flooded with his friends, the same friends that he hadn't seen in almost two months. Of course they would all be here, now of all possible times, they would be here when he needed them as far away from him as possible.
And fuck, when his eyes landed on Enjolras, the picture of open concern, Grantaire almost sobbed for what he was about to do.
Instead, he forced his eyes away from the blond, and searched out Éponine, silently curled up on the couch in Cosette's lap. Everyone else, including Musichetta was surrounding the couch and had been watching her before he barged in. The one exception, of course, being Bahorel who stood by the window, eying the street.
Refusing to let himself slow down, Grantaire took four long strides over to his best friend and pulled her into a tight hug. They stayed there like that for a few seconds, Éponine trembling in his arms, but otherwise stoic. When he finally pulled away, he made his way immediately towards the living room closet, where he kept their many bags.
"Start packing," he said, forcing his voice not to crack, or give way for a sob. "We're leaving."
He could feel everyone turn towards him, be it in surprise, confusion, or anger. He couldn't focus on their reactions though, not even Éponine's shock mattered.
"What?"
"You heard me," he said with a sigh, dumping three duffel bags on the floor by his feet. "Take everything you need and just leave the rest."
"No fucking way! I'm not leaving college. Not when we worked so hard to get here, to make a life here," she said angrily.
He could feel their stares on the back of his neck, and he really didn't want to have this confrontation in front of them. He spun back around to face her and wrapped her hands in his, pointedly ignoring her half-attempts to throw him off.
"Claquesous is on campus, Éponine!" he said pleadingly, wondering how she couldn't understand this. "Claquesous! 'Parnasse's most trusted man."
"Just because he saw me naked a few times back in the day…"
He rolled his eyes at her flippant treatment of everything that happened. Only she could make those ten years into something so simple, just to be stubborn. Sometimes he wondered if she kept updated on current events, or if it was just too difficult to follow. Ever since they'd left, he's followed the news almost religiously, in case anything important happened.
"Montparnasse isn't some gangly, well dressed teenager anymore, Ep," he snapped at her, figuring it was time to fill her in. "His Dad's been dead going on six months and the entire ring is his now. If his right hand's here, then it doesn't matter if he came for you, or if it's a complete coincidence. Because if he sees you then he has the power to pull you out of college and drag you back anyway."
Éponine's eyes widened marginally at the information, but before she got the chance to respond, one of the Amis walked up from behind and rested a hand against his shoulder. Grantaire didn't need to see or hear him to know exactly who it was.
"Grantaire, calm down and think rationally for a moment," Enjolras said carefully.
"Back off, Enj," he snapped, immediately shrugging away the blond's hand without looking at him. They hadn't spoken in two months, and every second in his presence was hurting, especially with the knowledge that he'd likely never see him again. Grantaire silently begged for him to drop it, but knew immediately that the activist never would.
"No," Enjolras said harshly. "You can't just run away from every little issue."
"This isn't some little issue, and you have no clue what you're talking about," Grantaire snarled.
Internally, he was still pleading for the man to just go.
"Then why don't you just explain it to me already," Enjolras responded instantly, fists clenching in exasperation. "I might be able to help."
Grantaire thought he was going to be sick. He couldn't handle both Montparnasse's possible return into their lives, and Enjolras' anger at him avoiding them. As it was, he could feel his equilibrium tipping, and the desire to curl up in his closet until the world stopped spinning trying to overtake him. Had it been literally anything else, he wouldn't still be standing upright. But this was Montparnasse, and Éponine needed him to hold it together.
"We're not one of your little causes, Enjolras," he spat out, willing to try anything to shake Enjolras and the Amis off so they could pack and flee as quietly as possible.
"No, you're my friends and I don't want to lose you. Especially not if there's something I could have done!" Enjolras said, and Grantaire ached at the words.
"Stop it!" Éponine shouted finally, before throwing her arms out in defeat. When they finally quieted, she turned to him and rested a hand against his shoulder. "Let's just tell them, R."
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Grantaire backed away from her, shaking his head so much that he hoped it would distract from the trembling in the rest of his body. But Éponine didn't let him curl up and hide, and stepped towards him every time he tried to back away. They both knew that any concept they'd had of safety was gone now, and she had seemed to throw all caution to the wind, while he scrambled for what scraps might be left behind.
Soon enough, his back connected with a wall, and Éponine was still approaching, looking at him sadly, but still imploring.
"I'm tired of us being the dropout and the runaway. Always looking behind us, always keeping our heads down," she said, reaching out and taking his hands like he had just done. "Open your eyes, R. We did it, we found somewhere. And it's ours."
"It's just a club, 'Ponine," he said with a sigh, hearing the lie as soon as it came out of his mouth. It wasn't just a club. Somehow, they'd found this group, and the people there had accepted them, cracks and all.
After finding Éponine, he'd believed that was it. That was the one incredible thing he'd be given in his life. Then there had been Christopher, but he'd destroyed that, and he was sure he didn't deserve anything else. But somehow, Grantaire had gotten a third chance, this time with an entire group of people. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that this was his actual last chance; he could never hope to find anyplace better than with these stupid, brilliant students.
She had to know that he didn't want this either. That he would give anything not to be afraid, not to run away from them so many times, not to have to leave them. Not to have to leave Enjolras. But Claquesous was here, and it simply wasn't safe for them anymore.
"Do you trust me?" Enjolras asked carefully.
"Of course," Grantaire replied before he had the chance to think about it, wincing after the words escaped.
The student leader started to approach him and Éponine, walking slowly to give him plenty of time to move away if it was too much. It was as if he was an animal in a cage everyone was afraid of spooking, and the comparison was debilitating in its accuracy.
Part of him wanted to dart sideways along the wall, and put as much distance between him and Enjolras as possible. He knew what the student was trying to do, and it would work.
"Do you trust them?" Enjolras asked, gesturing to the rest of the Amis watching the three of them with sad eyes.
"Yes," Grantaire said after a moment of hesitation. Almost against his will, he met every one of their faces.
The urge to run fought hideously with the desire to stay. He wanted to ask about Jehan's poetry, joke around with Courfeyrac and Bossuet, have that rematch with Bahorel over shots, listen to Cosette babble on about clothes, Marius babble on about Cosette, waste lunch breaks with Joly, set up the Musain in the mornings with Musichetta, listen to Feuilly bitch about the idiots he worked with, make fun of Combeferre when he tried to parent him over his alcohol intake. They were his friends, all of them; and if he believed in nothing, they would be his one conviction.
And Enjolras; he wanted to listen to Enjolras speak for the rest of his life, wanted to argue with him over everything and nothing, just to see the flush of frustration in his cheeks. He wanted to watch him during his rallies, and show him the rest of Friends. He wanted to bask in Enjolras until it was time for him to die.
"Who is Claquesous?" Enjolras asked softly.
Grantaire turned to look at Éponine; when Enjolras implored him like that he was powerless to refuse. His last defense was her response, because for all accounts and purposes, this was entirely her story to tell. He really shouldn't have any say in whether or not they explained their past to these people, and how much they revealed.
But meeting Éponine's dark brown eyes, he could see her waiting for him. She wanted them to know. She must've come to trust them a long time ago, far earlier than he was ever able to. Again, Enjolras was asking him to give of himself so intimately, that he trembled from fear. This time, it wasn't just a word to put on a t-shirt though. This time, he was asking for the story, requesting context. If Grantaire started to tell Enjolras about his past, would he be able to stop? Éponine just nodded at him encouragingly, and so it was his decision to trust them, or abandon them.
And in the end, he couldn't help but trust them.
"Claquesous is the second in command to Montparnasse: the king-pin of the Patron-Minette."
"The Patron-Minette?" Courfeyrac asked cautiously, clearly recognizing the name "As in…"
"Yes," Grantaire cut him off with a wince. "As in the French mob. They deal in drugs, weapons, girls, you name it. They cover it up by hiding it underneath legitimate businesses. Montparnasse was the creepy little boss's son, but now he's head of the ring, and he's all but untouchable. He's got a ton of law enforcement on his payroll, and if Claquesous is here it means that 'Parnasse sent him."
"How are you two involved with the Patron-Minette?" Jehan piped up, eyes wide.
Fuck, he could see it starting in their eyes. The mistrust, wondering what crowds they ran with before they came here. Grantaire took a step away from the wall to stand up next to Éponine, in case they didn't understand and she needed the support.
"Grantaire isn't," Éponine said immediately, protecting him the same way he was trying to protect her. "My parents ran a motel at the edge of town, close to the train station, but that was mostly a cover. Our town was a key flow-through point, on a major drug smuggling route, and my father was paid to make sure all of the goods arrived safely, and continued on to where they needed to go. If business deals had to take place between the boss, and another big name player, my Dad's motel was usually a common meeting point."
"Okay," Feuilly said, analyzing everything that he was hearing before speaking again. "So how are you involved with that?"
Éponine looked to the ground uncomfortably, and Grantaire was about to take over to save her from having to spell it out, when Combeferre beat him to the revelation.
"Your shirt," the philosophy student said slowly.
Grantaire moved closer to Éponine and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They were a good group of kids, but this was also one of those things that changes relationships. It was very likely that everyone would look at Éponine differently afterwards.
"My Dad was a clever businessman," she said, clearly forcing her voice to remain neutral. "Robbed the poor schmucks dumb enough to stay the night, and treated mob guests to the best in customer service; the best rooms, the fresh food, and the company of a young lady if they so desired."
And it was out there. It was Éponine's big secret, not his, but he still winced as if it were. Éponine's shirt, business deal benefit probably hung in their heads, context giving the words a weight that they never realized before.
"How young?" Jehan asked, voice sounding shockingly low and dangerous.
Grantaire looked amongst his friends, and saw the budding anger in a few of their eyes. Bahorel's snarl and Combeferre's tight-lipped scowl was to be expected, but the poet's was not. Jean Prouvaire was a soft soul; he wrote poetry about flowers, wore bright colors that most guys avoided, and let things roll off his back without affecting him. Jehan's roommate stole his goddamn medication for fuck's sake, and he didn't let it bother him.
"First time I was six years old," Éponine answered with a shrug, trying to play it off casually. "Wasn't often, but continued until we ran away."
"No one in the school noticed something was wrong? No one did anything?" Enjolras demanded angrily.
Well, he'd expected Enjolras' righteous fury to kick in a great deal sooner, so in a way he was impressed. By now, he'd learned that Enjolras' natural response to hearing things like this was to get angry with the larger societal gap that caused terrible things to happen, because he didn't know how to deal with an individual in pain.
"The Patron-Minette was so connected that Ep's third grade teacher couldn't even file a report to Child Protective Services," he explained calmly, giving him a look that he hoped convinced Enjolras to drop it for the time being. "We met when I was nine, so whenever it happened, she would run away to my house afterwards, and stay with me."
Grantaire had never said anything to Éponine, and she had never said anything to him, but both were pretty sure that was why they'd been able to run away so easily as well. The Patron-Minette didn't want Éponine on law enforcement's radar, so if Grantaire's parents had called him in missing, Montparnasse's men had probably intercepted and buried the report. If missing persons had caught up to them then Éponine would've started spilling mob information, so they would've rather had Éponine lost than located.
"For nine years?" Combeferre asked, and looked at Éponine sadly.
Neither of them knew what to say to explain that away, or downplay it to make it better for their friends, so Éponine just shrugged again, and he tried to decide where to pick up the story again.
"When I finally decided to run away, I showed up at her window to get her out and we drove off into the sunset, never looking back. Eventually, we found our way here and settled down. I got a few jobs and Éponine started up high school again."
Even though it was complete bullshit, Grantaire figured he might as well try to end on a happy note. Of course, as he looked up to meet Enjolras' gaze, he could see that it wouldn't last for long. The problem they'd avoided for so long had just reentered their lives, and he didn't know how long he had to get them out.
"But now Claquesous is here," Enjolras finished angrily. "So what does that mean for Éponine?"
"We're runaways," Grantaire said with a sigh, hoping this convinced the Amis to let them escape. "Technically, they could force us to go back. Assuming Montparnasse didn't send Claquesous because he's found Ep and wants her back, then she's still a liability."
"How?" Marius asked, frustrated and confused.
For the first time since he'd begun his and Éponine's story, Grantaire really regarded Marius. Unlike the anger in a lot of the others' expressions, the awkward ginger looked distressed and shell-shocked. Though it was easy to forget, since he talked about Cosette or his father so often, Éponine was still one of the kid's best friends. It was clear that Marius was aware of just how out of his depth he was, and hated it.
"If they're not here for me, then they're here to sell or to transport something, and I know almost all of the higher-ups in the ring from the past fifteen years," Éponine said, trying to remain practical and unemotional. "Without my Dad holding my leash, I could have a dangerous affidavit."
"You're a loose end." Joly said slowly.
They didn't need to confirm it, and none of the Amis could say anything more about it because even Marius knew what that meant. In short, loose ends needed to be cut.
/. /
Enjolras stood painfully still, trying to absorb all of the information Grantaire and Éponine had just introduced to them. Of every emergency that had crossed his mind when getting Joly's text, none of them came anywhere close to this. But there was no time to dwell on what he'd thought the issue would be, he had to focus on the actual problem.
His synapses were firing, trying to account for all of the loose factors and how they could deal with them. Sparks of memory were flickering in the back of his mind, and promising to return to them later, he stored them away.
The sound of shifting canvas drew him out of his internal organization and back to the present. Grantaire had moved back to the hallway closet and the duffel bags he'd abandoned earlier on the floor.
"Where are you going?" Enjolras asked perplexed.
Grantaire had trusted them. By his own choice, he had opened up to him about part of his past. Even though it was more Éponine's story than his, it was still a huge step in trust for him to let go of that much. Why was he still packing?
"Where do you think? You've heard our story," Grantaire said defeated. "They didn't come after us before because they didn't know about me, and didn't want to go through the police, but enough water's gone under the bridge where she could easily become a Jane Doe. I'm just trying to make sure we escape with our lives, Enj."
His stomach traitorously clenched at the possibility that after everything Grantaire might just leave anyway.
"You're not running," he said resolutely, trying not to sound like a stubborn, impetuous child. "We can fight this."
They had to fight this. This was the first time he'd seen his friend in almost two months, and it wouldn't be the last.
"How?" Grantaire demanded, throwing his hands up in the air with a voice that sounded far more defeated and heartbroken than angry. "What do you think you could possibly do without putting us on police or 'Parnasse's radar? They're untouchable."
At Grantaire's frustratingly true words, Enjolras forced himself out of the unhelpfully emotional mindset, and returned back to his mental situation room. Compartmentalize and refocus, he thought to himself; treat it like a game of chess. He lacked important information about Claquesous' presence on campus, and possible resources in town to make an educated next move.
"For all you know they're trying to draw you out of hiding, so just slow down and let us come up with a plan." Enjolras said thoughtfully.
As he'd expected, that slowed down Grantaire's panicked escape, and gave him pause to better assess the situation. Strategies and information ran through his mind, and Enjolras was already sifting through the best possible outcomes.
"We need to know exactly what Claquesous is doing here before we do anything," he said with certainty in his voice. "Grantaire, Éponine, you two can't leave your apartment until we know more."
He could tell that Éponine wanted to protest, wanted to say something against the house arrest but he held up his hand to stop her before she could say anything.
"For everyone who's willing, I would like to go into hibernation here for the forseeable future, to ensure Grantaire and Éponine's safety," he said, hoping that the Amis would agree. It was a small apartment that could quickly become cramped with ten college kids camped out in the living room, but it was worth it if they could protect their friends.
Thankfully, he could already see a good handful of the Amis nodding along and clapping Éponine and Grantaire on the shoulder and back reassuringly.
"No one should walk around campus alone until we know Claquesous is gone," Combeferre added wisely. "If we're going to be taking on a French mob boss, then we should take extra precautions."
Enjolras nodded at his best friend, glad the man had thought to bring it up.
"Courfeyrac and I can find out who Claquesous' been talking to on campus," Jehan said almost instantly. "He's probably trying to deal to other freshman, but if he's searching for Ep, then we don't have a lot of time before he realizes she's not living on-campus."
Enjolras nodded at the poet. He couldn't think of anyone better to ask around the freshmen housing. Courfeyrac probably knew more of the freshmen class than all of them combined, and Jehan could get into the buildings, being a freshman himself. It also didn't hurt that no one on earth had the power to dislike either of them.
He turned to the rest of the group, eager to see what other jobs they could conceptualize and assign Amis members to. In a strange way, it felt exactly like planning one of their rallies. They divided up areas to reach, people to talk to, and information to uncover. They could just as easily be planning for war or a food drive, the environment was so familiar. And yet, Éponine and Grantaire's lives might be at stake.
"Well, if the Patron-Minette is trying to sell, odds are they either have a contact in town, or are trying to set one up," Feuilly said wisely. "They wouldn't send the second in command this far out just to sell or stop over in this town. Give me Bahorel and Joly, and I can find out if they already have a plant, or if they're just scoping out the area."
Enjolras nodded slowly. Feuilly's job at the manufacturing plant meant that he was in a strategic location to keep an eye on a good portion of the town, but Joly's volunteer work at the local hospital, and Bahorel's familiarity with almost every local establishment gave them enough wide-spread recognition that they probably could cover the entire town.
What excited Enjolras even more though, was Feuilly's suggestion that they could be scoping out the area to decide whether or not it was a worthy stopping point on a drug route. That was certainly a reason to send out a second in command to investigate.
"If they're still scoping out the area, they might be convinced it isn't worth a stop on the route," Enjolras said triumphantly, snatching at the small hope and hanging on to it.
"How?" Grantaire asked with a weary scoff. "We're in a fairly large college town with a national railroad moving through it. We couldn't be more perfect for them."
At the moment, Enjolras couldn't dispute the logic. For all intents and purposes, they were the ideal stopover on a drug route. Grantaire was looking sideways at him, weary and sad, as if they were charging headfirst into a battle they couldn't hope to win, and all Enjolras wanted to do was break the leader persona and promise him that it would all be okay somehow. Instead, he filed away the possibility, and turned back to the group.
"Bossuet, Combeferre, Marius, I need you on research duty," he said, voice growing stoic again. "Find any connection you can besides Éponine for why they might be here, and if they've been here before. Cosette, since you have to go home later, can you take first round of staying with Éponine and Grantaire? Tonight, everyone reconvene here with your clothes, work, and whatever else you might need."
Cosette nodded when he addressed her, and everyone started to shuffle around, talking to the people they were grouped with. Enjolras took in the scene with pride, amazed by how quickly his friends became his lieutenants.
Before he could refocus on the concerns itching the back of his mind, he felt Grantaire's hand on his forearm. Enjolras turned to face him, and was met with Grantaire's incredulous expression. His mouth hung open and his head was tilted, skepticism hung on his every feature, save his eyes. His eyes refused to hold anything but sadness.
"This is all great in theory, Enjolras, but I need to work," Grantaire said, clearly frustrated. "We can't pay bills and rent without it. Not to mention food."
Enjolras grinned at the first easy problem that he'd been presented with all day, and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. With careful ease, he pulled out the credit card his father had given him for college, and handed it over to the cynic without a second thought.
"Take it."
"No," Grantaire said after a moment, shaking his head and backing away. "I could never owe you so much."
Of course it was too much to ask, for any task to be simple with Grantaire. But this problem was such a small one in comparison to everything else that he'd learned today. Enjolras refused for this to become a large complex issue.
"Just once, can you trust that I want to help?"
"Why?"
Wasn't it obvious already? Enjolras opened his mouth several times, but closed it again as words abandoned him. There was too much he had left to sort through. Suspicious memories that were starting to align, questions that he needed to find the answers to. Finally, he grabbed hold of the simplest response he could think to give to Grantaire.
"I don't want to see you run out of your home, and I definitely don't want you or Éponine dead. Given a little time I think we can fix it. Let me try."
The cynic stared at him for several seconds, before gently reaching out and taking the credit card from between his fingers. The movements were slow and careful; Grantaire's eyes flicked back and forth between the credit card in his fingers and Enjolras' face, as if expecting him to have a change of heart.
When Grantaire finally had his father's card in his possession, Enjolras afforded him a thankful smile, and left to make his own preparations. Almost everyone, save Cosette was leaving to get to work on whatever their assigned task was. Enjolras himself was already making plans and running through his schedule for the next day, wondering how fast he could clear it.
Before he could dash back to his dorm room, back to his computer, Combeferre pulled him over at the bottom of the stairs, a doubtful look upon his face.
"Enjolras," Combeferre began carefully. "You haven't said what you plan to do yet."
He couldn't explain it to Combeferre when he had yet to go through everything in his own mind yet. The things his mind was suggesting, he wanted to call them impossible but with everything he'd just heard it was a luxury he couldn't afford. He needed to entertain them as possibilities, carry through with the implications of such ideas, and then determine what to do with them.
However, if he was being honest, he would admit that his mind was already made up.
"I have a hunch that I need to explore," he finally said to his best friend in explanation. "I swear I won't do anything rash."
Combeferre sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You always do something rash."
And yet, the philosophy major dropped his grip on his shoulder, and nodded. With Combeferre's blessing he grinned slightly, then left the apartment to seek out Bahorel.
