A/N: I apologize for the shortness of this one…and I apologize for the mess I'm making. Please don't hate either of them! That's all I ask.

Also. I'd just like to shoutout PhantomoftheBarricade1832 for everything that was happening in her life today. I'm praying, honey. Please don't cry…and don't cry reading this chapter...

Thank you all once again! And now…I think maybe 6 parts?

...

Coerced
Part 4

...

"I'm disgusting."

The words just dropped like a bomb before she even thought twice about saying them. But it was the cold and ugly truth and she knew it all too well. The word was familiar in her mind, she had been told it for a long time, but now she finally believed it.

"No, honey, don't say that. You aren't," Musichetta lightly said, placing an affectionate hand on Éponine's shoulder.

The two girls sat side by side in Musichetta's living room on the couch. Two glasses of wine sat before them on the coffee table, untouched. They had just finished up dinner, Enjolras suggested that Éponine not be left alone, and so here she was while he worked a long shift at the Musain today.

Éponine lifted her watery eyes to her friend as her lip trembled. "But I am. What is so wrong with me, Musichetta? Why can I do anything right?"

"Please, honey, you aren't to blame in any of this - "

"How can you say that! I sucked off my boss in his office and watched Enjolras beat him up for it. I feel so guilty Chetta. I caused all of this!" Éponine shook her head back and forth, hands wringing together nervously. "I should just let him punish me for what I did. Then I would stop feeling so guilty," she mumbled to herself.

Musichetta cupped the side of Éponine's face and looked her straight in the eye. "You know that's not how it works anymore. You don't need to be punished for this. You did nothing wrong."

"Yes, I did. I'm a dirty, disgusting whore. Enjolras must hate me. But maybe if he punishes me, then I'll stop feeling guilty, maybe he'll forgive me."

The red head shook her head again, this time giving Éponine a vexed stare that she was all to familiar with. "Don't you dare speak like that again, you understand?" Éponine gave a few quick nods and Musichetta's expression softened. "No one will ever punish you again, even if I have to personally make sure of that. Those days are over, Éponine. No one will ever lay a hand on you like that again. And you shouldn't feel guilty at all…for any of this. This is not your fault."

"But it doesn't make what I did okay." Éponine's lip was trembling again on the verge of another sob. "I'm truly sorry for it…"

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You were a victim of circumstance. But if you want to apologize for it, just tell him."

"I-I can't just tell him!"

"Why not, honey?"

"I can't, Chetta, I just can't," she cried. "I can't talk to him, I can't even look at him the same way anymore. All I see is a monster when I look at him."

Not knowing any other action, Musichetta wrapped her arms around Éponine and pulled her into her chest, lightly shushing her while she stroked her long dark hair. "He wouldn't hurt you, 'Ponine. You have to know that."

"I used to think that," she whimpered into Musichetta's chest. "But I don't know any more. What if I do something really terrible one day, what if I make a really big mistake? And what if he just snaps one day and hurts me?"

The red head peeled back, just to lock eyes with Éponine. "Honey, I'm going to be blunt for a moment, and this might not be something you want to hear, but just listen." Éponine gave a tentative nod. "You're going to have to trust him. You're going to have to trust that he won't do anything like that. He would never hurt you. You two love each other. Loved ones don't hurt each other."

Éponine stayed still and quiet. She cast her hazel eyes to the floor, shoulders hunching in on herself as a tremble ripped through her body. "Yes. They do," she whispered quietly.

Musichetta's breath hitched in her throat at the realization of what she just said. She stayed silent for a moment, chewing her tongue on how to rectify what she had said, deciding in the end to keep going. "If this is what is really worrying you, then you need to talk to Enjolras. You need to tell him how you feel. You can't shut him out forever. He doesn't deserve that."

Her last words hurt worse than the rest of them had. But it was true. Enjolras didn't deserve to be treated this way. He was only trying to protect her at the heart of the situation. But perhaps it wasn't that Enjolras didn't deserve this, perhaps it was that he didn't deserve her and all the grief that came along with her. This wasn't fair to him…she wasn't fair to him.

"I-I don't t-think I can," Éponine stuttered. "I don't know if I can trust him," she clarified, heaving a long sigh to hold in a sob. "It's hard for me to talk to him. I can't do this to him. I think we've been rushing things. I-I don't know. But I know you're right, he doesn't deserve this…he doesn't deserve any of this. And all I'm doing is hurting him." She covered her hands with her mouth, casting her tear-filled eyes up to the ceiling. But soon she lowered her hands and her eyes, her gaze catching glimpse of the bright diamond fastened to he finger. The sight of it only brought more tears down her cheeks. She touched it lightly, shuddering at everything it meant. "I'm sorry…I don't mean to hurt him…But I don't know…" Suddenly, she stood to her feet. "I'm sorry, Chetta, I'm sorry. I just have to - I'm gonna go. I didn't mean to bother you with all of this."

"'Ponine, please don't go."

"Yes, Musichetta. I just need to think some more. I'm sorry…" Éponine headed for the door, grabbing her purse from the table and wiping her eyes before she headed out into the busy streets.

"Don't go," she whispered again.

But Éponine didn't listen, she gave a sad and small smile before she opened the door and left.

...

"Four days."

"Four days?"

"Yeah, four days, Ferre. I haven't touched Éponine in four days," Enjolras gravely explicated, resting most of his weight on his hands as he leaned across the bar counter.

Grantaire abruptly laughed from the left side of Combeferre. The drunk was nursing his second beer, already trying to drink himself into a stupor at only six o'clock at night. "So that means, you and Éponine haven't been shaking the bed in four days?"

Enjolras sent him a death glare, eyes hooding over. "This is serious, R."

Grantaire tossed his head back along with another gulp of beer. "Sorry, ah, it's just I thought ever since you two moved in together, you've been at it like rabbits."

The blonde's stare only intensified, mentally strangling the poor drunk. "No, Grantaire. We haven't. So, I'd appreciate you keeping your jokes out of my relationship."

"Sorry, Enj…" Grantaire said, sobering up, grin falling off his face as he looked to the counter.

Enjolras heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm just - this is really stressing me out. I've barely even talked to her."

"She still won't talk?" Combeferre questioned, leaning in closer across the counter.

"Nope. I've barely had a conversation with her that was anything more than monosyllables. Every time I take a step closer to her, she backs away. Or if I accidentally stand too close while we're doing dishes, she takes a step away from me. She's been sleeping so close to the edge of the bed, I'm afraid she's gonna fall off. And last night, she got up during the night and slept on the couch. I don't even know what to do anymore. She keeps her head down, she doesn't even want to look at me."

"What about the wedding?" Grantaire interrupted.

"It's off as far as I can see. Neither if us have even brought up the subject."

"It's that bad?" Combeferre asked, eyes going wide.

"That's not even the half of it. I stopped by her job to check up on Jay and make sure he resigned. I didn't tell her I came by, but I asked a few of her co-workers how she has been and they all said the same thing - depressed, worried, quiet. They said she barely talks, she sits by herself, and she doesn't do anything except her work. But the good news is that Jay held up his end of the deal, he left and so I know he hasn't been bothering her anymore."

"Enjolras," Combeferre began. "Perhaps you should give Dr. Lambeau a call. Just schedule another appointment…it couldn't hurt. Maybe she'll talk to him?"

Enjolras shrugged. "But I don't want her to get mad at me for it. What am I supposed to do? Say 'Oh Éponine, I called your psychiatrist and figured you could talk to him. Maybe he can convince you that I'm not going to beat you to a pulp?' Yeah, that'll go over real well."

Combeferre was not amused as his jaw clenched. "This attitude of yours, yeah, this is going to do a lot of good. This is what got you into this mess in the first place," he chided before dropping his voice lower. "You can't think of it like that. You're doing this to help her, not hinder her." He sighed rubbing the back of his neck in concentration. "I don't know, maybe you can ask him to up her anti-depressants again? But I think calling him would be best right now. Even if he can just give you advice on what to do."

Enjolras nodded briefly. "I guess so." He paused for a long minute, surveying the situation over in his mind. "This whole situation just sucks. Why can't people just leave her alone? She wasn't bothering anyone. Ugh, we were doing just fine, making good progress…now I feel like we're back at square one."

"Then start back at square one," Grantaire shrugged. "That's my honest advice to you. If you feel like you're there, then start from there again."

Enjolras and Combeferre simultaneously stared at him, both in total shock. "That's actually not bad advice, R," the pediatrician said with a slight smile. He turned and looked over at Enjolras. "He's right. Start back at the beginning. Do what you did at the start. Give her her space, take her out for a movie, do something nice. Just remind her you're not Montparnasse."

"But I thought that's what I've been doing…"

"Well, then do it more," he plainly said. "You guys will get through this. If she can come around once, she can come around again."

Enjolras just sighed, but this time he nodded, deciding his friends were right. This is what he needed to do.

…

Two in the morning rolled around and Enjolras sent the drunks home, stacked the chairs on the tables, and put away all the fresh glasses for tomorrow. He wiped down the counter one final time and mopped up the floor. To say he was exhausted would be an understatement, but by now he was used to the late nights of closing up the bar. However, if it wouldn't have been for this week's turn of events, he might have had more energy to close up, but sadly that was not the case.

His head pounded in the makings of a headache, but he reveled in the idea of going home to sleep and at least to see Éponine, even if he couldn't touch her. Those thoughts spurred him on for the drive home until he finally was putting the key in the lock and walking inside.

In the darkness, he was sure to be quiet, knowing Éponine was sleeping somewhere; most likely the sofa rather than the bed he figured. But as he furthered himself into the apartment, he didn't see a shadow sleeping on the couch nor a mess of blankets. Perhaps she actually decided to sleep in bed?

Thus, Enjolras figured it was safe to turn on the kitchen light, knowing it wouldn't wake a sleeping Éponine in the living room. He crossed around the island, opening up the refrigerator for a glass of water - anything to quench his thirst before bed. He picked up a carton of juice, and tipped it back, drinking straight from the carton. It was only then that a little shimmer caught his eye. Lowering the carton from his lips gingerly, he walked hesitantly to the island, getting closer and closer to the little shimmer.

Finally, he gasped, his heart plummeting to the earth. There, on the counter, sat Éponine's engagement ring. He picked it up immediately, carton falling to the counter and his hand fisting around the little cold object as he let a growing anxiety take him over. Without wasting a second, he sprinted into the bedroom. "Éponine?" he questioned into the darkness of the room. "Éponine!" he said louder in an effort to wake her without physically shaking her. He didn't care about waking her from her sleep or that it was the dead of night, he needed answers now and they needed to talk this out even if it killed them.

He growled in frustration and tossed on the light. The room illuminated in a white glow and then Enjolras was met face to face with an empty bed, sheets pulled taught and tucked in, all with the pillows placed meticulously on top. This time, his heart fell deep and hard out of his chest and into the core of the earth. His lips trembled as he clutched the little ring tighter, sure to leave an imprint there tomorrow. Quickly, he was searching about the room, tossing open the dresser drawers and searching for her items. Most were no where to be found. Even the closet hung empty of most of her clothes. In an instant, he was out of the bedroom again, opening up the bathroom only to find it empty as well. He opened up every closet, he even looked under the table. "Éponine!" he shouted. "Éponine!"

He took out his phone, dialing her number and waited. The ringing felt like it would never cease and finally it went to voicemail, her cheery voice only enhancing his heartbreak. He called her number again, only to receive no answer a second time…and then another…and another.

It was only when he began opening up drawers and flinging objects and utensils out of them in an effort to find her, that he let the tears fall. He sunk to the ground against the kitchen cabinets, landing on the cold tile and resting his eyes in the heel of his hands. Still, clutching the ring, he finally gazed at it with blurry vision.

If it were different circumstances, perhaps he would've been happy for her. She finally did it. She finally had the courage to leave. Something she had struggled with for so long, something that she was determined she could never do. But now, it seemed she found the strength. She took herself out of what she heavily believed was the beginnings of another abusive relationship. Without a word, she just left.

But Enjolras never thought he would be the one she would walk out on. Never in a thousand years did he consider that. All he was trying to do was protect her. But now here it was happening to him and he would do anything to rewind time; anything to get her back. But no. Now he was facing the ugly truth.

She was gone.

"Éponine…" he croaked weakly. "I'm sorry…"

And in the silence of the house, the only sounds heard were his sobs echoing throughout.