Warning: Violence, guns and some language

One

Strange Creatures

Cosette sang along with the radio as she wiped down the kitchen countertops of icing sugar, flour and smears of ginger syrup. There was a ginger cake baking in the oven, a batch of vanilla butter cream in the fridge, and a large glass of wine waiting for her in the living room to drink whilst she waited for the cake to finish cooking. She'd had a hellish day at work, and baking was her way of calming herself down.

That, and the wine would certainly help take the edge off her stress.

She hummed to herself and ran the dishcloth under the warm tap, rinsing out the wet clumps of powder. With that done, she wrung out the cloth and placed it on the side before rinsing out the sink of all vestiges of her baking.

She heard the front door slam shut and the sound of keys being dropped heavily onto the dining room table. "Hello!" she shouted to her housemate. "Grantaire, don't you dare touch that wine!" she added as an afterthought, mind going straight to her best friend's excessive drinking habits.

"Are you baking? You are, you're baking," Grantaire said, sweeping into the kitchen. He wore a denim shirt over stone-coloured trousers, and his dark hair was tousled and windswept. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "What delight is it tonight?"

"A ginger cake," Cosette said, wiping her hands on the nearest towel and leaning her hips against the countertop behind her.

"Ah," he said. "How shit was your day at work then?" He rooted in the fridge and emerged with a bottle of beer and a pot of hummus.

"Pretty terrible," she said. "What with Greg's wandering hands and Chantal's snide comments."

Grantaire placed the bottle of beer onto the side along with the hummus and rooted in the kitchen drawers for a bottle opener. He found it and made a small, triumphant noise at the back of his throat and proceeded to pry the cap off his bottle. "You should quit," he said, not looking at her. "Or, at the very least, report Greg for sexual harassment."

"I need the money," Cosette said, automatically.

Grantaire snorted. "No, you don't," he said. "Valjean would pay your rent if you asked."

"I don't want to ask," Cosette retorted, watching as he began to dig into the breadbin. He stood back with a disappointed look on his face. "What is it?" she said.

"We've no pitta bread," he said, pouting.

"Yeah, and I'm also not sure how long that hummus has been there either," she said, reaching out to give him a sympathetic pat on the arm. "Maybe give the Greek snack a miss for tonight."

"But I'm hungry," he whined.

"Get some proper food," she said, pushing off the counter.

"Take away," he shot back.

"Ugh, I don't think my hips can handle a takeaway."

"Please, your hips are perfect," Grantaire snorted. "If you weren't my best friend, I'd do you. Now, takeaway."

"I don't want a takeaway," she muttered, but began to look in the drawers for menus anyway.

Grantaire made a pleased humming sound under his breath and binned the possibly gone-off hummus before taking a swig of his beer. "Now, back to your shit job," he said. "Seriously, quit or report Greg, or let me –"

"You are not punching my manager in the face," she said, shoving various brightly coloured menus in his direction.

"I don't see why I can't," he muttered.

"Because I don't want to have to rely on my father for the rest of my life," Cosette said. "I'm going to start looking at other jobs tomorrow. Hopefully I can get another one soon and I'll be done there."

"Please, please report Greg before you go," Grantaire urged, toeing his shoes off his feet and kicking them to the edges of the kitchen. He thumbed through one of the menus, an Indian takeaway by the looks of it. "Or slap him, or kick him in the balls, or something."

"I'll consider it," she said, sternly. "Now, I'm going to go and drink my wine and try to put today behind me."

He followed her through the dining room and into the sitting room next to it, where her glass of wine waited like an old friend. He carried the menus tucked under his arm and threw them onto the sofa when she sat down, curling her legs beneath her.

She took a sip of the wine and tilted her head back. "Ugh, I needed that," she muttered.

"I'm voting pizza," Grantaire said. "Or maybe kebabs. Ooh, kebabs, Cosette."

"No kebabs," she said. "Pizza."

"Pizza," he murmured, flopping down next to her. "Yeah, pizza sounds good."

She placed her feet into his lap and he absent-mindedly patted them with the hand that held his bottle of beer.

"Do you want to watch a film, maybe?" she suggested.

"Could do," he said. "But no rom-com crap."

"Something bloody," she said, her eyes lighting up at the thought. "Didn't you buy that horror film last week?"

"Yeah, but that was more chiller than slasher," he said. "We could always break out the classics if you want blood," he added, waggling his eyebrows.

"They're upstairs," Cosette said, through a yawn. "I can't be arsed going upstairs."

He rolled his eyes. "Lazy arse," he muttered, leaning over to place his beer on the coffee table and gently pushing her feet out of his lap. He stood, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll bring down a selection," he said. "And I might get changed whilst I'm up there. You go ahead an order if you want, I'll just have a pepperoni pizza. Can we share fries?"

"Sure," she said, giving him a wide grin. "Love you," she added, as he walked out of the room. He flipped her off, and she heard his footsteps thudding up the stairs.

She stretched her arms over to the small table in the corner next to the sofa to grab the phone. She quickly dialled the takeaway's number, ordered the pepperoni pizza for Grantaire and a chicken and sweetcorn pizza for herself, plus their shared fries and a pint of ice cream, and then put the phone back in its cradle. Tipping back more wine, she picked up the TV listings magazine that lay discarded on the floor and began to rifle through it whilst she waited for Grantaire.

She'd barely turned onto the second page when she heard the crashing sound from the kitchen. Her entire body jumped and tensed all at the same time. It sounded horribly like glass smashing, and then there was a loud rattling sound.

Her movements slow, she placed the glass on the coffee table beside Grantaire's beer bottle and let the magazine drop onto the ground. She got to her feet. There were some thuds from the kitchen, and the sound of wood splintering, feet crunching over glass.

Her eyes swung around the room, looking for something heavy to grab. A few months ago, Grantaire's golf clubs were stashed behind the sofas, but she'd spirited them away to his bedroom when her father came to visit so that the place would look tidier. In desperation, she grabbed the large glass vase from the mantelpiece and tipped it up, cool water splashing onto the carpet and soaking her toes and lilies bouncing as they hit the ground.

Holding the glass vase in her hands, she edged through the open door into the dining room. There were no more sounds from the kitchen, but the door was stood ajar. She couldn't remember if it had been closed – Grantaire had been last through it…

Her heart in her mouth she strode forward into the kitchen. To her pleasant surprise, it was empty, although the window on the back door was smashed – and that was not all, there was a gaping hole in the door as well, chunks of wood everywhere amongst the spray of shattered glass. Cold, bitter wind blew through the windows, but apart from that, the room was very still and quiet.

Then something sharp sank into the back of her knee. She screamed in pain, swinging around. Something was hanging off her leg. It appeared to be an animal of some kind, but it looked almost humanlike; its skin was reddish, hard and scaly, and its eyes were mean little black holes set into a flat face with small slits instead of a nose and mouth. Tiny ivory horns stuck out of the tops of its head. It had its mouth fixed around the back of her leg and she kicked out wildly. She'd dropped the vase in her surprise and it had smashed upon hitting the tiled kitchen floor. The weight of the creature and the pain made her crash to the ground, glass slicing through the skin of her arms.

She let out a whimpering noise. She scrambled, hands searching, and they curled around the largest piece of glass she could get her hands on. She swung her hand down onto the creature's neck. It let out an odd, strangled sound as thick green liquid pulsed from around the shard of glass.

Cosette scrambled to her feet, pain singing through her body. She ran forwards, stepping onto the creature as she moved. She flung herself into the dining room and stumbled, hitting the carpet hard. She lay there for a few seconds, stunned and bleeding and terrified.

She heard the sound of scratching.

Slowly, she raised her eyes. There were more of the little creatures stood over her, and then one much larger one, its skin several shades lighter but its eyes smaller and nastier. They held clubs of varying sizes in their claw-like hands.

She wanted to move, and yet, she couldn't force herself to. Her limbs had taken on the weight of lead, it seemed.

"Grantaire," she said, but it came out feeble and quiet. The largest creature stepped forward. "GRANTAIRE!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, not sure where she was dragging up the volume from.

Upstairs, she heard the sound of crashing and running and the dining room door flung open just as the largest creature knotted its claws into Cosette's hair.

"Cosette!" Grantaire bellowed, darting forwards. She tried to look at him, but the creature was wrenching her head backwards. She felt like he was pulling her hair out by the roots.

Grantaire grabbed one of the chairs from under the dining table and swung it down onto the nearest creatures. "What – the fuck – are they?" he shouted, hitting some more.

Cosette was scratching at the hand in her hair, and then she lunged forwards, throwing her weight at the creature. He went down as she clung to his hand, and the shock he seemed to suffer from her actions allowed her to grab his large, knobbly club from his hands and hit him around the head with it.

She sat back on her haunches, breathless. Across the room, Grantaire stood, still holding the slightly battered chair, his chest also heaving. He'd managed to make short work of the smaller creatures, who lay on the ground in various different states of injury, some oozing more of that thick green fluid.

Cosette had a horrible feeling her face was wet. The club dropped from her hands and she backed away from the creature beneath her. A second later, Grantaire was kneeling in front of her, his face calm but hard, his hands on her shoulders and thumbs on the side of her neck.

"Cosette, we need to get you to a hospital," he said. "You're hurt."

"What's going on?" she said, but before he could say anything, the air around them seemed to explode. Grantaire pushed her to the ground, covering her body with his. The bang had been deafening and her ears were ringing, her head swimming, and had that been all of the windows in the house breaking or her imagination?

Things had got very cold, though, so maybe it wasn't her imagination. Grantaire moved away from her, but his hand gripped hers tightly.

She opened her eyes. The dining room windows had been blown in, as had the large front window she could see through the door.

Suddenly, more of the creatures poured in through the dining room windows, amongst them some of the larger ones that Cosette had dealt with.

Grantaire was on his feet before she could process what was going on, and he yanked her up with him, pulling her across the room and through the living room door just as the creatures began to swing their clubs. There were blows to the backs of her legs and her lower back until Grantaire shoved her out of the way and slammed the living room door shut in the creatures' faces.

Cosette lurched forwards, also throwing her weight against the door to try and stop them from shoving it open. She wasn't sure what the point was, though, because now they were coming in through the living room window and…

Someone else appeared at the window. A woman. She was tall, slim and muscular, and her hair was dark and pulled back off her forehead. Her expression was severe, and in her hands were two long, thin knives. She crouched on the windowsill for a few seconds before jumping into the room.

Cosette screamed, but the woman came down with her knives slashing into the nearest creature's necks. The woman spun on the spot as the creatures' changed direction to swing their clubs towards her. The blades swung through the air, and globs of that foul green liquid flew through the air.

A man appeared at the window. He was tall and blond and fuck, fuck, he had a gun. The sounds of the gunshots were deafening to Cosette's ears and shit, she knew she was crying now. Thankfully he was aiming them at the creatures, not at them, but one of the bullets thudded into the wall next to the door.

The creatures on the other side of the door were still desperately throwing their weight against it. Cosette wasn't sure how much of a help she was being in keeping it shut, as Grantaire was doing most of the job, his face strained with exertion.

"Éponine!" the blond man shouted, running towards them. "Take them and get out!"

The blond man shoved both Cosette and Grantaire out of the way, despite Grantaire's protests. Cosette found herself being pulled away from the door by the woman – Éponine, was it? – and towards the window they went.

"Come on, climb up," Éponine urged, keeping to one side. Grantaire's arm wound around Cosette's waist and he lifted her up into the windowsill. She wobbled and fell into the front garden, her fall cushioned by the bushes outside even if the scratchy branches played havoc with the wounds she already had.

Grantaire clambered out after her, closely followed by the dark-haired woman. The woman moved lightly over the tops of the bushes, leaping over the garden wall onto the street itself. Considering the insanity going on inside Cosette and Grantaire's home, the street looked bizarrely normal, very still, some of the windows glowing and some flashing with what she presumed were televisions playing.

The only thing out of the ordinary was the unfamiliar, bright red car that sat idling outside her home. The woman flung open the back doors and gestured towards the car. "Get in," she ordered, in a curt voice.

"Who the fuck are you and what is going on?" Grantaire barked, helping Cosette out of the bushes. He held her close, and she was glad for the warmth and weight of his body beside hers.

The front window to the car rolled down and a man stuck his head out. He was grinning broadly and had a mop of curly dark brown hair. "Don't be so rude," he scolded in a gentle voice. "Éponine just saved your life. Now be good children and get in the back of the car. We'll explain on the way."

"This is like some shit movie," Grantaire said, rolling his eyes, but he pulled Cosette towards the car and helped her inside.

She was shaking. He wrapped his arm around her as they huddled in the back. Éponine hovered anxiously outside the car. It wasn't long before the blond man came leaping out of the window. He was shouting something, but Cosette didn't care to hear what he was saying. Éponine jumped into the seat beside Grantaire and the blond man got into the front. The doors were slammed shut and the car sped off down the street with a screech of wheels.

Cosette was aware of the blond man passing Éponine a gun, and windows being rolled down so that Éponine could hang out of the window and fire at whatever was chasing them. Cosette twisted her head, and with a jolt, saw hers and Grantaire's house was on fire, the familiar brick building completely swallowed by flames.

OOO

Eventually, they left the city behind, the rows of houses and shops and tower blocks giving way to stretches of fields and bushes trees. By this point, Éponine had sat back in the car, the window now rolled up, and the gun was held loosely in one hand.

"Is anyone going to tell us what the hell is going on?" Grantaire demanded. Now things had calmed down, Cosette could really focus on how much pain she was in. Her entire body throbbed and ached, and her leggings were soaked with blood; her ears were ringing and her head swam and she wanted to sleep so badly, and yet she felt too wired to actually close her eyes. She knew she was trembling, because every so often Grantaire would give her a little squeeze and kiss the top of her head.

"How long till we reach it?" the blond man in the front muttered, ignoring Grantaire.

"Another fifteen minutes, but we'll have to move fast when we get there," the driver said. "Shall we put some music on?"

Grantaire leaned forward, sticking his head into the front of the car between the passenger and driver seats. "What I think you should do is fucking answer my question," he snapped. Cosette missed the loss of his arm around her, and reached out to curl her fingers into his denim shirt. He was about ten seconds away from exploding, she could tell, and it had been so long since Grantaire had exploded.

"Still no need to be rude," the driver sang, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Cosette winced. The dull thuds hurt her ears all of a sudden.

"What do you expect?" Grantaire said incredulously. "We nearly fucking died and got dragged off by people wielding knives and guns, and you don't expect us to have questions?"

"Why is he even here?" the blond one asked out loud. "He isn't what we agreed on here."

"He was with her," Éponine shrugged. "I have no idea who he is. I'm assuming he's her boyfriend."

"Right, I'm still in the fucking car," Grantaire snapped, "And I am not Cosette's boyfriend. Look, we just need –"

"You need to shut up," the blond man said. She could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

"That's it," Grantaire muttered, and there was a scuffling sound and when Cosette looked next Grantaire had managed to snatch Éponine's gun out of her hand and press it to her temple. The woman's eyes had gone very wide and she swallowed. Cosette watched Éponine's hands flex very, very slowly.

"Put that down," the blond man sighed. "I doubt you know how to use it correctly."

"Actually, I'm ex-military, I know how to use a gun," Grantaire said, and now Cosette could hear the eye-rolling in his voice.

There were a few moments of silence, and then Éponine said, "Enjolras, seriously, I think he might –"

"Now isn't the time for a Q and A session," the blond man said. "There's no need to do anything rash. All you need to know for now is that we're on your side, and we are not going to let anyone hurt you."

"I don't give a shit about me, I can look after myself, no problem," Grantaire said. "What I'm actually worried about is the fact my best friend is in shock and still bleeding and that is the only thing that matters to me right now. I'm going to trust you, because so far, you've given me no reason not to, but the minute we're out of this car I expect a full explanation." He lowered the gun. "And I'm hanging on to this," he added, swapping it to his other hand.

Éponine's body relaxed a tiny bit, and she gave Grantaire the dirtiest look Cosette had ever seen.

"I'm not in shock," Cosette piped up in a quiet voice. "It's just…everything hurts."

"We have healers," Éponine muttered, still glaring at Grantaire.

"See, we'll get you cleaned up as soon as possible," Grantaire said, and he reached across himself with the hand that wasn't holding the gun to hold her hand tightly. He gave it a squeeze. "This is all going to be okay, Cosette. You know why?"

She blinked at him, her eyes feeling very hot.

"Because I'm here," he continued. "And I told Valjean a very long time ago that I would always be there to look after you and I am far too scared of your father to go back on my word now."

Cosette managed a watery smile, leaning her forehead against Grantaire's shoulder. Her father's face materialised in her mind, his warm eyes and silly, floppy hair, broad frame and arms that were brilliant at giving hugs. He'd be out of his mind when he realised they were gone – about Grantaire as well, because as much as Grantaire refused to call him anything other than "Jean" or "Valjean" he was as much Grantaire's father as he was Cosette's.

"Does Musichetta know to expect us?" Éponine said, leaning towards the front seat.

"She knew it'd be at some point today," the blond man replied. "Seeing as we had no idea when they'd attack, we couldn't give her a specific time. Hopefully she'll be awake."

"It's just after eight, it'd be a bit weird for her to have gone to bed," the driver said. "She's a night demon, remember?"

"Unless Joly popped over," Éponine said, the hint of a smirk in her voice.

"Joly shouldn't be popping anywhere outside of the compound," the blond man snapped. "It's not safe at the moment and he knows that."

"Night demon?" Cosette whispered, staring up at Grantaire.

His eyes were fixed on the blond man, and his face was expressionless. "I don't know," he said, n a low voice. "I really have no idea what is going on right now."

She swallowed, fearing that things were about to get a lot more complicated.