A/N: Important, please read. The government (at least in America, I don't know about other countries) is trying to sneak SOPA past us right now. This act will make it illegal to write or draw characters from books and movies. If this passes, every American (and maybe others) can and very likely will go to federal prison. There is a link on my profile, please follow it to sign a petition to help put a stop to this. Thanks for taking your time to read this part of the authors note. I don't know how many people in this fandom know about it; I heard about it in the Harry Potter fandom, so please, spread the word.

Now about this story, this chapter is where things get bad. In the beginning, the c-word is implied, so I am sorry if I offend anyone. Also I have just started classes, so updates will be even more irregular, but I hope to finish this story by the end of the year.

Chapter 10

It was a bad week at the Joly household. Musichetta was on a honey kick and was going through almost an entire jar every day. She wasn't putting it on her food, because she claimed that would be disgusting; instead, she was eating it by the spoonful between meals and snacks. Occasionally, she would put some in her tea, but other than that, she just ate it plain. While Joly was distracted by Courfeyrac's rape, he was very aware of his wife's disgusting new craving. About two days after Jehan go his hammock, Joly finally snapped. "Chetta, please. I love you, but do you have any idea how disgusting that is? Not to mention unhealthy, for both you and the baby!"

The young woman turned a nasty shade of red. Sensing danger, Bossuet backed away and left his boyfriend and girlfriend to handle this their selves; he stayed in the room though, because come on, a pissed off pregnant chick is awesome (when she is not pissed at you.) What basically happened was Musichetta yelled at her husband for a good half hour or so, mostly incoherent nonsense, until Joly burst into tears.

Chetta looked slightly ashamed of her behavior. Just before she could apologize to Joly, Bossuet had to ruin it. "Musichetta, I love you, but you are acting like a real c***." This was followed by a long silence, and then Musichetta punched him hard in the face.

Figures, the one-time Joly isn't in the mood to fuss over his boyfriend's nose, it's actually broken.

~oOo~

Jehan sighed as he looked into the empty fridge. With both men unable or unwilling to leave the apartment, they were pretty much out of food. The poet didn't want to leave Courfeyrac alone; the grocery store was only five blocks away, but still. And up until this point, Courfeyrac didn't want to leave the safety of their home.

As if on cue, Jehan felt hands wrap around his thin waist and warm breathe on his neck. The poet smiled and leaned back into his fiancée's touch, who tensed up for a second before he nuzzled into Jehans' braided hair. "We should probably go shopping."

Jehan slowly turned around and wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac's neck. "You sure?"

The brunette gave the poet a halfhearted smirk. "We have to eat, don't we?" Leaning forward, Courfeyrac kissed his fiancée on the nose.

Jehan grinned as he gently pressed against the larger man. "Who's driving?"

~oOo~

They haven't been in the grocery store for more than ten minutes when they were ambushed. "Jehan!" Musichetta shrieked as she pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Courfeyrac jumped about two feet in the air before recognizing Musichetta and Bossuet, the latter took a more appropriate approach and held his hand out for the brunette to shake.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Courfeyrac blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Valentin!" Jehan scowled at his partner while Musichetta and Bossuet howled with laughter. The bald young man grinned kindly at the two men. "I called 'Chetta the 'c' word and she punched me." Now Jehan and Courfeyrac laughed loudly while the pregnant woman simply smirked.

The brunette continued piling fruits and vegetables into their cart as Jehan chatted with their friends. The group shopped together for some time before Musichetta raced to the bathroom to vomit (traditional 1 pm morning sickness.) When she returned, she took one look at the roasted chicken, which is what sent her running in the first place, and her mouth literally started to water. The three men grinned at each other and the poet picked out a chicken. "Would you two like to join us for lunch?"

Jehan nearly dropped the chicken as the words left his fiancée's mouth. The other two looked at each other just as shocked, before nodding. Bossuet gave them a rather forced smile. "Better get two, then."

~oOo~

It wasn't until the four were in the elevator that things took a turn for the worst. Jehan and Courfeyrac were holding hands, while Musichetta and Bossuet were making out. The elevator door opened and Musichetta didn't notice. "Honey," Bossuet murmured. "Honey, the door is opened."

Giggling, Musichetta led her boyfriend out of the elevator; both nearly colliding with Courfeyrac, who seemed to be in a trance. By comparison, Jehan was in a blind panic. "Valentin? Valentin, sweetheart? Can you hear me? Valentin!?"

But Courfeyrac didn't hear his fiancée, desperately calling his name. He only heard on voice, one word. 'Honey. Honey. Honey.' The voice never said the word in Courfeyrac's memory, but he knew how it would sound on that bastards lips. Sickeningly sweet. 'Honey. Honey. Honey.'

The horrified looks Jehan and the other two exchanged went unnoticed by Courfeyrac, who was clearly in some form of shock. The brunette didn't react beyond a flinch when Jehan and Bossuet physically carried him into the apartment and laid him on the bed. Bossuet told Jehan that he would make them some tea, and left the room to join Musichetta, who was on the phone with Joly in the other room. Finally alone, the poet turned to his fiancée, who was shaking like a leaf. Without hesitation, Jehan pulled his partner onto his lap and held him tight, rocking slightly as he spoke clearly into Courfeyrac's ear.

"Valentin? Love, you're safe. Joly is on the way. Just listen to my voice, darling. Don't worry, I'm right here. Can you give me some sort of sign that you can hear me?" Jehan got a sporadic jerk in reply followed by a whimper. The poet sighed in relief and nuzzled into the greasy brown curls under his nose. "You're doing great, Valentin. Bossuet will be back soon with some tea, and Joly will be here any minute to check you over. It's alright, I won't leave you."

~oOo~

In the kitchen, Bossuet was making the tea and Musichetta just got off the phone with her husband. She then turned to beam at her boyfriend. "Joly will be here in about five minutes. Do you need any help?"

Bossuet grinned. "If you could spare some of your precious honey, I would be much obliged. I just can't shake the feeling I did something wrong."

The pregnant woman passed her jar of honey to the bald man, before wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm sure this has nothing to do with us. He may just be stressed out after being out in public today. Don't worry, love. Just bring them their tea."

After adding a spoonful of honey to each tea cup and knocking on the bedroom door, before entering with a (slightly too cheerful) smile. "I come bearing cups of tea!"

Jehan rolled his eyes as he accepted the cups and passed one to Courfeyrac. The brunette clung to the tea cup as if unsure how it got there, while the poet spoke to their guest. "Is Joly here yet?"

Bossuet shook his head. "He'll be here in about three minutes or so. 'Chetta is cleaning the kitchen."

Jehan had to laugh. "Well, why don't you invite her to join us?"

The bald man's reply was cut off by a blood curdling scream. Courfeyrac had just taken a large mouthful of tea, before spitting it out and dropping the cup with a shout. Jehan dropped his own tea cup and grabbed his fiancée by the shoulder, causing the larger man to scream louder.

Jehan and Bossuet exchanged a look before Bossuet practically fled the room, leaving the lovers alone. "Valentin! Darling, please look at me! Just take deep breathes and listen to my voice. It's alright, sweetheart, Joly is on his way." The poet soothed, and despite his frightened tone, it was working.

The two didn't have to wait long for Joly, who burst through the door with his medical bag and just about shoved Jehan off the bed. "What happened? Courf, you are white as a sheet right now. Jehan, go get me some warm water and a washcloth. Don't worry, I won't do anything until you get back."

Jehan glanced at his fiancée, who was trying to curl up as far from the medical student as possible. Swallowing thickly, the poet raced into the bathroom and gathered what Joly had asked him to get. He then sat between Courfeyrac and Joly, ignoring the medical student's glare. The brunette let out another scream as Jehan touched his arm before clinging to the poet. When Joly tried to move to the other side of the bed, Jehan gripped his arm and wouldn't let go until Courfeyrac's breathing evened out. The strawberry blonde then adjusting himself and his lover so they were facing Joly.

The medical student was quick to discover that Courfeyrac's condition was more psychological than physical. He couldn't suppress a sigh; Combeferre was better with the emotional stuff. Joly decided to handle this himself, if he had to he would get Combeferre on Skype for help if necessary. Joly quickly composed himself before meeting (or trying to meet) the brunette's eyes. "Courfeyrac, may you please tell me why you are so upset?"

Courfeyrac whimpered, with his head buried in Jehan's neck, he began to tremble again. The medical student looked at the poet for help. Jehan took a deep breathe. "I have some theories, but …" He really hoped Joly wouldn't ask the obvious question.

"Well, what are your theories?" Joly asked, desperate for some form of answer.

Shit! The poet thought before reluctantly answering. "Well, Bossuet said … something in the elevator shortly before Val froze up. After he calmed down, Bossuet brought us some tea. I didn't have any, but Val took a sip and … became upset."

Joly shook his head, half at whatever his boyfriend did and half at Jehan avoiding his question. He was distracted by the poet reaching over him and sticking his index finger into a small puddle of tea on a shard of the broken ceramic cup. Before Joly could properly freak out, Jehan put his finger to his mouth and gasped at the honey tainted tea. While Joly was babbling about germs and sounding less and less like a second year medical student, Courfeyrac pulled far enough away from his fiancée to give him a questioning look. He never said anything about his abuser's appearance, let alone what he smelled like. Yet Jehan seemed to know, but how? Could he have said something in his sleep?

Meanwhile, Jehan's mind was racing. Courfeyrac's panicked reaction to the taste of honey, even the mention of honey frightened him. The way he avoided using the word as a term of endearment. At first Jehan thought it was because of him; Jehan never said the word if he could avoid it. Val didn't understand it but he tried not to say the word in his presence. However, he always slipped up at some point every week, but this is the longest he has gone without saying the word. He may be jumping to conclusions, but Jehan was afraid that he may be right.

Slowly standing up, the poet pulled the love of his life into a tight hug; something very difficult to do as they were both shaking. "Sweetheart, please tell me. Was the man about 6 foot 2 with blonde hair?"

Shocked, Courfeyrac nodded and whispered "He smelled like … honey."

Both men winced at the word, which didn't go unnoticed by Joly. Ignoring the confused look from the medical student, Jehan tearfully whispered in Courfeyrac's ear. "I'm so sorry." The poet then continued in a louder tone. "I have to go. I will be back in two hours. I swear, l will call if I will be longer."

With that, Jehan bolted through the bedroom door and out of the apartment. He continued running until he was halfway down the staircase before sliding to the floor. Curling into a ball, the poet wept as memories of his shitty childhood caught up to him for the first time in 5 years.

A/N: I am so sorry. The last part of this chapter was rushed. I had no idea how to end it. Also, as I was typing this, I was watching a TLC story about the survivors of 9/11. Not the best distraction from a sad-ish chapter. Again, follow the link on my profile and spread the word that SOPA is back.