A/N: I've had this idea for a while now, and it's getting to the point where I just wanna go back to writing a normal e/e story, not some crazy-ass AU, but they keep taking over my life. (Which it totally okay with me!) This is definitely aimed more toward the "normal" side of modern Les Mis AUs (unlike previous bootlegger and hippie AUs I've done).
I also would like to branch out some more, so if any of you want to see any sort of new story from me (whether it be Les Mis or another fandom) let me know and I'll see what I can do. I will most certainly still write e/e since I love them so much, but I wanna see what else I can do, too!
Anyway, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter One: Prologue
.::.
April 22nd; local courthouse in Florida.
.::.
Éponine Jondrette had never held someone's hand so tightly. Her stomach clenched with anticipation and fear. Her vision faded, her ears listening for only one word. Beside her, James Blackwell, a fifty-some year old man, winced when the young girl squeezed her hand again.
He gave her a reassuring smile. "They'll be back soon." He gently patted their clasped hands; he was going to need a lot of rest after this case.
Éponine blushed and nodded, pulling her hand away from her lawyer's. "Sorry," she whispered, wiping her damps hands on her skirt. After testifying against her own parents on charges of child abuse, child negligence, fraud, and trafficking of drugs, Éponine had a slight reason to be nervous. It was a lot to come clean on.
She figured they would win the case; it was evident the Thenardiers were both unfit parents of her younger brother, Gavroche, but guilty on all charges as well. But still, Éponine knew that the jury could swing either way.
Sighing, she rested her elbows on her knees, and held her face in her hands. At least twenty feet away were her parents, no doubt already lining up someone to get rid of her. Part of her felt sick to her stomach for testifying against them – they were her parents, after all; the other part of her was extremely proud of finally coming forward. After years of pain and hiding her pain, she came clean, and she felt free.
The door to the jury room opened and Éponine's head snapped up so fast her head nearly popped off. The jurors filed in, taking their seats once more. Judge Pence cleared his throat and sat up straight, reaching for his gavel.
This time, it was Mr. Blackwell who reached for Éponine's hand.
"Has the jury reached a decision?" Judge Pence asked.
A lone juror stood up, holding a sheet of paper before him. The man nodded, glanced at Éponine, and then her parents, and then back to the judge. "Yes, Your Honor."
"Proceed."
"We, the jury, find Mr. and Mrs. Thenardier – " There was a tedious pause; Éponine could feel the bile in her stomach churn about. "Guilty on all charges."
Relief flooded Éponine; smile cracked her face into two. Mr. Blackwell squeezed her hand and then looked to the judge for the sentence.
The wait was still not over.
"Mr. Thenardier and Mrs. Thenarider: $500 fine each for failing to report child abuse; 10 years in state penitentiary each for child abuse – including the act of burns onto a child; 5 years each in state penitentiary for desertion or non-support of a minor; 20 years each in state penitentiary for the trafficking of marijuana." The judge banged his gavel. "Court adjourned."
The next ten minutes were a whirlwind. From behind her, Éponine's co-workers and friends cheered and clapped her on the shoulder. Next to her, Mr. Blackwell shook hands with the judge and then wrapped Éponine in a tight hug.
The bailiff went to collect Éponine's parents, but her father ripped away from the man, stalking over to Éponine, his eyes ablaze with anger. Mr. Blackwell hollered for security and stood in front of his client.
Éponine, invigorated by the whole ordeal, did not stand down when her father's face was inches from her own. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.
"You will pay, 'Ponine. You will pay for this."
And then he was ripped away, led out through the back door, his wife beside him, resisting the man holding onto her arm. She glared at Éponine and shouted: "Don't be surprised if you wake up dead one morning, sweetheart!"
Éponine felt the bile rise in her throat again, and this time, she couldn't keep it down. She hurled into the trash can underneath the desk before her. There was more shouting around her as the supporters of her parents (mainly their cronies) called for an appeal and shouted things directed towards Éponine and her friends.
Suddenly, there was a rough hand on her arm, propelling her toward the door. She barely had time to grab her bag before she was out of the courthouse. The man who'd grabbed her was dressed in a dark suit, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. A black SUV was apparently waiting for them at the end of the steps of the courthouse.
The driver door opened and Éponine held her hand above her eyes, adjusting to the sudden sunlight. Another man stepped out, dressed like the man still holding her arm. He took off his sunglasses and held out his hand.
"Miss Jondrette?" She nodded, swallowing, her stomach oddly calm. "Welcome to the Witness Protection Program."
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April 22nd; Florida State Police Department.
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Éponine looked at the manilla folder she'd yet to open in her hand, blinking rapidly. "Ex – excuse me, tell me again, why this is necessary?"
Agent Bailey, the man who had stepped out of the car, sat on his desk, one foot propped up on the chair in front of him. Éponine sat in the opposite chair, her mind reeling. He sighed – again.
"Éponine." He faltered. "Can I call you Éponine?" She nodded. "Éponine, your case was one highly monitored by some of the head of staff at the Department of Justice."
She scoffed, frowning. "What?! Why – why on earth would they monitor my case?"
"Your parents were wanted criminals in at least fifteen states, but no one had enough evidence to pin them down until you came along." Bailey pointed the end of his sunglasses at Éponine. "Thanks to your testifying, they were arrested. But that doesn't mean people aren't gonna be angry that their leader was caught. I mean, come on, think about it! Your parents ran drug rings in those fifteen states and probably some prostitution rings in others; they were highly committed criminals, if you ask me."
Éponine's face remained blank, unaffected by the man's recount of her parent's history.
Bailey's tone grew softer. "Look, people are pissed that you testified. Obviously you could tell that from the energy in the courtroom. People you don't even know were threatening to kill you and your brother. And that's what we were assuming would happen. Going into the Program, assuming a new identity, it's all for your safety and for your brother's."
"Isn't this a little drastic?"
Bailey shrugged. "That's up to you. This is entirely voluntary; you don't have to do it if you don't want to, but we highly suggest that you do."
"And – and how long would we have to be in the Program?" Éponine looked to her left, out the glass door, glancing at Gavroche, who sat on the bench, swinging his legs back and forth. Mr. Blackwell had dropped him off an hour or so after Éponine had gotten to the station.
"You can leave at any point in time and return to your normal life, but once again, that is something we do not suggest. Usually, it's for the rest of your life."
Éponine scoffed and stood up, running a hand through her hair. "You expect me to drop everything I've worked for like that?" She snapped her fingers and shook her head. "No. No. This is crazy! I'll loose my job, and my house, and – and I finally got into art school!"
Bailey nodded, hopping off his desk. "Like I said, you don't have to do it. But we would provide money for both a home and your schooling, and job assistance, if need be."
Éponine sighed. "Can't I think about it?"
Bailey cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets, nodding. "Of course. But you only have 24 hours."
.::.
April 24rd; Flight 468 to Augusta, Maine.
.::.
Gavroche jiggled his leg, anxiously looking around the cabin of the plane. Éponine folded her magazine shut, sighing. She looked at her brother.
"Walt, clam down," she said quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping woman beside her. Still not accustomed to his new name, the ten-year-old boy failed to pay attention to his sister. "Walter!"
Gavroche turned around this time. "Yeah?"
Éponine smiled at him, brushing the hair off his forehead. When she'd decided to join the Program, Éponine was at a loss for what to tell her brother. It didn't come easily, and she'd only told him small details on the way to the airport, but he seemed to get the gist.
"Gav, look at me," Éponine repeated. When he didn't, she shoved his shoulder.
"Ow!"
"Pay attention!" Éponine's voice cracked. "This is very important, okay? We're moving, as you know, to Maine."
Gavroche rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know."
"I'm sorry we have to do it in the middle of school, but we really have no choice," she continued, her face softening. "It's for our safety."
"What do you –"
She shook her head and took his hand in hers. "Just trust me, okay? You've done that before, yeah?" Gav nodded slowly. "Your new name is now Walter. Your favorite color is red, and your favorite baseball team is the Red Sox." The manilla folder had laid out everything about Gavroche's new identity; right down to his biggest fear and best memory. Apparently, he was supposed to memorize it, but Éponine knew that was relatively impossible. She would only make him remember the important things.
"I hate the –"
"It doesn't matter!" Éponine's closed her eyes in agitation. "You must never tell anyone your true name, do you understand? If you do, we're screwed."
Gavroche visibly paled, confused, and scared. Éponine sighed and drew her brother to shoulder; she gently kissed his temple. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna be fine."
He nodded, sniffing twice. "I'm gonna miss my friends."
"Me, too, pumpkin, but we'll find some new ones."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"You don't have to jiggle your leg like that."
Gavroche blushed, sinking down into the seat. "How much longer?"
"A couple of hours. Why don't you try to get some rest?"
When he rested his head on her shoulder, Éponine looked across the aisle: everyone was either on their phone or asleep; the woman beside her was out like a light. Slowly, quietly, she pulled out the manilla folder Bailey had given her two days before.
She still had yet to open it.
She didn't even know her new name yet.
Éponine took a deep breath, her heart hammering with nerves. She pushed back the front cover and flipped a piece of her hair out of her face. Like Gav's, there were two pieces of paper stapled together in the folder. She pulled them out and held them close to her face, lest anyone wake up and casually see anything.
Bailey had stressed how important secrecy was and she didn't want to blow her cover.
"All right, okay," she whispered, her eyes scanning the page. "Name.. name.. name." At the top of the page, she found it. "Veronica Rose Walter," she whispered. Then her eyes flipped over to Gav and back to the paper. "Well, shit, Bailey, you little fuck." Éponine shook her head ruefully, putting the papers back in the folder, and then shoving them into the bag. "Freaking Walter Walter. What an asshole."
She kissed Gav's forehead, making a mental note to tell him that his new name was utterly ridiculous and slightly embarrassing. He would adapt well anyway. Snuggling down in the seat, Éponine folded her arms over her chest.
Her new life would begin the moment they landed.
And it would all be one big lie.
But at least they would be safe.
(Just in case you were wondering: I looked up the crime and punishment regulations for the state of Florida; so that's how I got then sentencing.)
So! This is 'Witness.' Please, please, please tell me what you're thinking. Reviews are like my motivation and crap.
Love, Jess