(Hello there, my dear readers! All these kind reviews make me want to write and update faster and I really, really have to study! I am so grateful for all the response I get, you are all awesome! Here's a chapter again. Hope you like it, enjoy!)

Bahorel only just managed to hide in a dark alleyway when the door of the house slammed open and one of the men grabbed Grantaire by the collar of his shirt. Grantaire struggled, but couldn't get out of the man's strong hold.

"And if my day couldn't get any better", he heard the man grunt. Bahorel winced in sympathy when a fist collided with the drunkards jaw. He wanted nothing more than to jump from his hiding spot at that moment and show the guy that he had made a mistake messing with his friends. But Grantaire shot him a subtle, though warning glare and so Bahorel stayed where he was.

It was the smarter thing to do as well when he saw the man pull a pistol from his waistband and point it at Grantaire, before forcing him inside. Had he jumped forward, the man had no doubt shot either him or Grantaire and who knows what the guy inside with Enjolras would've done. Why didn't you bring a second pistol Grantaire? Bahorel cursed under his breath as he saw the door close again.

He smirked however when he noticed the pistol that lay in front of the door. Well done, he thought as he praised the cynic's subtle movements and quick thinking. But before he could do anything, he first needed to think this through. Those men now had two of his friends and it pissed him off to no end, but it would be no use to barge in there without any knowledge of how many weapons those men had themselves. And with Enjolras tied up and a gun aimed at Grantaire, he couldn't afford to make any mistakes. There was just too much at stake.

I first need to get that pistol. He quietly sneaked closer to the house, sliding to the ground as he reached the windows. He held his breath as he reached for the gun, now merely inches away from him. When he got hold of it, he took position beneath one of the windows next to the front door. From here he could vaguely hear Grantaire's voice, cursing and threatening the men holding him and Enjolras captive.

Just when he was about to peek through the window to take in what exactly he was dealing with, he heard a shot rang out. He dropped back to the floor, heart beating loud in his chest. Was someone shot? Enjolras? Grantaire? Did they see me? Bahorel kept as quiet and still as he could. He pricked his ears and felt his worry spike up a notch when he heard Grantaire groan in pain. Then another voice, a little louder and more commanding this time then before.

"Open your mouth or your friend dies"

Bahorel knew at once it was directed at Enjolras who had probably been fighting his assaulter all the time. Until now. Bahorel cursed again. He cautiously rose from his position, peeking sideways through the window. He could only see Grantaire from here. He was on his knees with his hands tied on his back, gun pointed at his head. His shoulder was bleeding but if Bahorel saw correctly it was only a grazing shot. He noticed the drunkard fumbling fervently with his ropes and by the looks of it, he nearly got himself loose.

So one pistol aimed at Grantaire, he thought. If it was only one gun, he would be able to handle it. He could shoot from where he stood right now and wound the man badly enough for him to no longer form a danger. But he didn´t know Enjolras´ position. What if Enjolras´ assaulter has a pistol pointed at him as well. He couldn´t afford to guess. He couldn´t afford to lose either one of his friends.

"Get your filthy hands away from him or I'll swear to God!" Bahorel's heart froze when he heard Grantaire shout. No.

He ran as fast as he could to the other window, hoping to have a better view of Enjolras from there. He did. And what he saw made his blood boil. He already knew his leader was tied up with both hands over his head – Grantaire had pointed that out to him earlier. Bahorel's eyes went wide in anger however when he saw the man press his hand along Enjolras' trousers, while whispering in the blonde's ears.

"Don't you dare listen to what he says Enjolras", Grantaire shouted. "Don't believe a word of it, it's not true, it doesn't work like that."

No gun. No gun! Enjolras' assaulter had no gun. Bahorel didn't waste any more time as soon as he was certain of that. He took position at the window with a clear view of Grantaire and the man with the gun. He noticed Grantaire's hands were nearly untied and so he took aim. And he shot.

Bahorel hit his target successfully. He immediately burst through the door, raised his pistol once again and aimed it at the man who was now crumbled to the floor as he watched Grantaire storm towards Enjolras' assaulter.

He approached the fallen man and slammed his pistol hard against his skull, sending the criminal straight into unconsciousness. He then turned and strove towards Enjolras, who was still tied up with one arm, shaking violently and staring in pure horror at Grantaire's and Louis.

Bahorel carefully placed himself in front of his blonde friend and turned his head away from the fight. His heart clenched in worry as he untied Enjolras' other arm and took his friends' full weight. He is not even acknowledging me, he thought as he noticed his leader empty, wide-eyed stare. "It's going to be okay Enjolras, I've got you", he tried to sooth, but he got no reaction whatsoever.

They needed to get out of here. They needed to get Enjolras away from this horrid place. He needs Combeferre. He turned around and saw Grantaire place the men – both unconscious – next to each other. He had grabbed the pistol his capturer had been holding and took aim.

"Grantaire!" Bahorel shouted.

""I'm coming. Get him out of here; I'll be there in a bit. I need a minute with them. Just a minute", Bahorel heard the cynic say darkly. He nodded and supported Enjolras as he led him outside. He felt the blonde next to him flinch violently when two shots rang out. They had to get out. They had to get away from here now. What if someone heard those shots?

Bahorel anxiously took in their surroundings. He didn't see anyone, but he still wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, if only for Enjolras' sake. He watched Grantaire walk out of the house. The man looked angrier and more dangerous than Bahorel had ever seen him. As soon as he reached Enjolras however, his face softened and he placed himself at the other side of the revolutionary, taking part of his weight.

"Are they dead?" Bahorel whispered when Grantaire looked at him. Grantaire pressed his lips together for a moment and then said: "They won't be hurting anyone ever again." It wasn't a complete answer, but it was satisfying enough for Bahorel. "I hope you've made them suffer." Grantaire's mouth curled into a dark smile at that. "Don't worry."

Grantaire then focused his attention to Enjolras and tried to get him to say something, but the blonde didn't look up nor did he answer. He was shaking so bad his legs were hardly able to keep him upright and so he let his friends support him. Grantaire shot a worried look towards Bahorel who shook his head and shrugged in return. This was bad.

Enjolras in the mean time hardly noticed what was going on. His mind kept replaying what had happened with Louis and he felt horrible for it. He was vaguely aware of the pain and exhaustion his body was experiencing and he felt himself lean heavily on both Grantaire and Bahorel but he couldn't get himself to focus on anything other than what had happened in that house. He couldn't bear looking at either of his friends, the shame too overwhelming and swallowing him whole. God, if I could only just die right now.

No matter how both Grantaire and Bahorel tried, they weren't able to get Enjolras to acknowledge them in any way. When they finally reached the Café, they noticed Courfeyrac sitting outside with Jehan, both looking worried and anxious. At the sight of the three men, Courfeyrac stood up and ran towards them only to be stopped by a warning look from Bahorel. He swallowed thickly when he realized something bad must've happened.

Instead of going for his usual hug, Courfeyrac carefully took his trembling friend from Bahorel's and Grantaire's hold and sat him down. The slight cringe when he touched Enjolras didn't go unnoticed and Courfeyrac felt his heart break. He kept a firm hand on Enjolras' shoulder and looked up at his other Amis. "Get Combeferre, now", was all he said.

Jehan was already flying up the stairs, tears streaming down his face at the sight of his broken friend. Bahorel nodded and threw a concerned look at Enjolras. He carefully squeezed the blonde's shoulder and then followed the poet up the stairs. Grantaire stood hesitatingly for a second, not really wanting to leave Enjolras right now. When his eyes met Courfeyrac's however, he understood it was better for Enjolras to be with his closest friends for now.

When he walked past the revolutionary, Enjolras suddenly reached out and grabbed Grantaire's wrist. He didn't look up or say anything, he just held him for a second, and then let go again. Grantaire knew it was as much of an acknowledgement or show of appreciation Enjolras was capable of giving at this point. And it was enough for him, more than enough. He gently ruffled the blonde's hair and whispered "Head held high, Apollo". Then he slipped inside the Café as well, leaving Enjolras and Courfeyrac alone outside to wait for Combeferre.

Courfeyrac sat down next to his close friend, making sure their shoulders and knees were touching, but keeping enough distance to prevent Enjolras from feeling cornered. Together they waited for the medical student.

TBC.

(So there we go. Poor Enjolras is not handling everything very well. I hope this chapter reached your expectations, I really do. Please, please let me know what you think. I appreciate it so much. Till next time!)