A/N: I apologize for the shorter chapter. In all honesty, I'm not too fond of this one but hey, the show must go on. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. French translation at the end. Please review!

In due time, Enjolras returned with the police, two lowly officers dressed in blue who appeared to be bored and apathetic. They both walked swiftly around the ruined house, their eyes scaling up and down, analyzing the broken bits with a look of half interest and annoyance. They gave the impression that they wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible, avoiding eye contact with Enjolras but passed a few glances at Eponine as if they knew her, which made her uncomfortable. As Enjolras watched them, waiting for them to say something, he heard Eponine scoff, a scoff that said "I told you so." He shot a glare her way, and she simply rolled her eyes before staring back down at the floor. Finally one of the officers confronted Enjolras.

"Can you help us?" He asked dryly.

The officer, Banet, spoke, "Possibly. Do you know anyone who could have done this? Someone with a grudge against you?"

"If we knew who it was we wouldn't have asked for your help," Eponine retorted, her voice dripping with hate.

"Please, we are trying to do what we can." Said Banet coolly before returning his gaze back to Enjolras. "Do you know anyone?"

He shook his head, "No."

"Did you see anybody?"

"No." Enjolras repeated.

The policeman was silent for a moment before breathing another sigh, this one sounding more irritated.

"We will do what we can," he said before following his partner out the door.

Enjolras stared after them, not in surprise but in angry. He wasn't going to let them go so easily.

"Wait a minute!" He shouted and ran after them, "That's it?"

The officer faced him, "There isn't much we can do. We have very little to go off of."

"So you give up?" Enjolras barked, outraged. He wanted answers!

Both policemen said nothing and turned to walk away. Infuriated, Enjolras grabbed Banet by his shoulder, but he pushed Enjolras back making him stagger. Banet shouted curses at him while his partner stomped his knee, causing Enjolras to yell and hiss as his knee buckled into the dirt. The partner grabbed his arm and twisted it back while pushing his head down. Enjolras groaned as pain traveled through his arm, unable to wriggle his way out of the policeman's grip. Enjolras was only able to look up with his eyes and from where he was, he couldn't find Banet's face who stood above him, staring down on him with heated eyes.

"How dare you put your hands on me?"

Enjolras remained silent as rage and hatred flooded him.

"You deserve to lose everything." Banet said, "Including that girl."

His partner then shoved him to the side, and Enjolras watched as the policemen walked away. He then stood, dusted himself off and walked back to the house, muttering curses as he went.

"What was that?" Eponine said, "I thought I heard someone yell."

"Nothing." Enjolras said bitterly, his pride hurt thanks to Banet.

She frowned but didn't press the matter further, so he promptly started cleaning, picking up the papers and books scattered about. Eponine took the destroyed paintings and left them outside the house. She then disappeared into her room for a moment. There was nothing that was taken—she didn't have anything to take besides the paintings she had already thrown out—but the lonely floor long mirror on the wall, the one she used to stare at herself in her lovely dresses, was cracked into eternal spider webs. She stared into the mirror, into the broken face that stared back in overwhelming grief. Quickly, she converted her angst to anger, an intuition she had learned long ago back in Paris living with her father. Eponine turned away from the mirror and went back into the living room, retrieving a broom to sweep up the mess in frustration. She glanced at Enjolras who was still collecting papers and slamming books back into the bookshelf.

"I told you they wouldn't help us," she hissed.

Enjolras glared at her, "Don't start. The last thing I want to hear right now is your snide remarks." She was hitting his nerves and heating his blood to boil, this she knew but didn't care.

"If you had listened—"

"Eponine stop." His warning sounded more like a plea.

She turned to face him, that same rage coursing through her. If he had listened to her he wouldn't be so upset as he was right now.

"No! Enjolras—" Her voice was caught in her throat as he snapped his head around, leering at her, his eyes dilated, ablaze in a fury of hate and wrath, his hands curled into fists, and his jaw clenched tight. Bone chilling fear swept over Eponine; never before had he ever looked so frightening. But what was he, a single man, nothing more. So she disregarded her fear, pushed it back, and glared at him just as defiantly. They were too much alike. She could see it irritated him.

"I don't want to hear what you have to say." He spoke calmly, coolly despite his expression, "I've been through too much to listen to any criticism from you."

"You think my life has been easy?" She snapped, offended, "I'm a gamine of the slums! I've lived y life in darkness and have seen more than a bourgeois like you could ever imagine. *Vous avez pas juste pour m'insulter, vous bâtard insupportable!"

Enjolras glared at Eponine who had transformed right before his very eyes. Not too long ago, she was a vulnerable young woman weeping before him. Now she had averted back to her ruthless self but somehow—and this he could not fathom—her eyes seemed to have darkened from deep brown to black. In that moment, Enjolras contemplated heavily on strangling her, and he was sure she knew it too; had she forgotten all he had sacrificed for people like her?

He gritted his teeth and walked passed her, muttered that he was going for a walk, and left the house. Eponine didn't stop him and both were grateful to be away from each other. Talking to one another was a very difficult, nearly impossible task, thus why Enjolras preferred to avoid it entirely. But if there was one thing they could agree on, it was that they both despised each other.

He didn't return until late in the night. Candles were lit around the house as if in mourning, tossing about eerie shadows as gentle flames danced. From what he could see, the house looked almost decent thanks to Eponine, the floor was clean and most of the books were placed back on the bookshelf. There were a few papers strewn here and there, and parchment was placed in a pile on one of the end tables as if it were soon to be read. That was when he spotted Eponine on the sofa, a dark heap in the flickering light of the candles. Enjolras ignored her as he usually did and headed towards his room. When he reached the door, he found himself waiting for her to speak, ready for her to yell at him or accuse or blame him for the robbery. But she said nothing, and Enjolras didn't know whether to feel relieved or confused. So he avoided her instead and closed himself off within his bedroom. Inside he began to pace back and forth, considering what to do next. How where they going to hide their money and protect their property? He thought and he planned and he strategized what he was going to do for what seemed hours, and even as he lay in bed, he went over in his mind what he was considering.

Rising from his bed, Enjolras walked over and opened his door to find Eponine still sitting on the couch, the candles around her slowly melting themselves out. How long had he been planning? He walked over and stood in front of her, staring down on her with unfeeling eyes.

"Why are you here?" She mumbled, her eyes fixed on the floor.

He ignored the bitterness in her voice. He wasn't going to deal with her attitude.

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to speak with you either, but you need to know what's going to be done about our finances" At this she looked up at him with a jaded expression but willing to listen. So he continued, "From now on we will hide all of our earnings."

"Where when we can be so easily robbed again?" She interrupted.

"Let me finish." He breathed, "We will hide our money within the folds of our clothes. None will be able to get a hold of it."

"But what about all of our assets? Or will we be hiding our furniture in our clothes a well?" Eponine asked sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes, "Mon Dieu. No. We don't need to worry about our belongings. Just the money."

"Pourquoi?"

"Think for a moment. I know you're from the slums, but you've got the brains. What did the robbers take other than our money?"

Eponine pondered his question, ignoring the fact that he had just called her intelligent in his own malicious way. She racked her memory for anything they owned that might have been stolen. "Nothing."

He nodded, "That's right. They only destroyed what was valuable. Nothing more. No one will want to rob a home that has nothing of worth in it. We don't need to take any unnecessary precautions for things that don't merit stealing."

Eponine nodded in understanding, staring up at him with sad eyes.

"Also," Enjolras spoke softly, "you're going to have to sell your dresses."

She said nothing and bit her lip. She nodded again, and he didn't need to say any more. He stared at her with mixed feelings of pity and aggravation; she was so willing to show her emotions. He said nothing and walked back into his room, leaving her to the darkness that swallowed her up as the final candle went out.

*You have no right to insult me, you insufferable bastard