Hey guys, sorry it's been so long since updating! I figured I'd give you guys a little bonus chapter since it's been so long, so I'm posting chapters 10 and 11 for you tonight. :)

Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!

- Raven

Éponine trailed after the gang, moving as quickly as her back would allow. Her father glared and threatened, but she couldn't have moved any faster even if the Inspector himself was on her heels. Ok, maybe that wasn't entirely true. If Javert really was chasing her, Éponine would be able to run even if she was dying.

They reached their destination, and Éponine sat down on the curb, grateful for the reprieve. Even if she did have to spend that time on lookout with Montparnasse, it was still worth it.

"Éponine!" Her father barked, and Éponine groaned, pulling herself up off the curb.

"Yes?" She sighed.

"Don't use that tone with me, girl." He snapped. "You'll be doing the raid today."

"What?" Éponine stared at him, trying to tell if he was drunk or not. "But, Papa."

"No buts. You'll be doing the raid, and for your sake, there better not be any mistakes."

Éponine cringed, climbing over the gate with difficulty. She managed to land softly on the other side, and crept towards the house. Sneaking around behind the house, she crept in the back door leading to the kitchens. Pots and pans hung from walls, and Éponine made note to stay away from anything that could make noise.

She stalked carefully around the house, knowing that this was probably a way of her father getting back at her for the other night. She made her way cautiously through the rooms, searching and finding nothing much of value, until. She stepped through into some sort of sitting room and spied two silver candlesticks sitting on the table.

As she crept towards the table, she thought she heard a creaking from upstairs. But that was impossible. Her father and the gang never robbed a house where someone was still inside. But they weren't the ones robbing the house, she was. It struck Éponine again that this was a set up. Her father meant for her to fail.

She grabbed the candlesticks, making to stuff them in her shawl, when a voice behind her made her jump nearly a foot. "So, my wallet wasn't good enough for you? You decided to come and steal from my house instead?" Not him! Anyone but him!

Éponine turned to see Enjolras standing in the doorway, so much more imposing framed by the darkness. He glared at her, his voice and eyes cold and merciless. He raised his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he saw the candlesticks in her hand. Éponine quickly put them down on the table and backed away as he stormed closer, raising his hand. For a moment, Éponine thought he might hit her, but he reached behind her and moved the candlesticks back to their original position. "My father gave me those," he said fondly, seeming to be speaking to himself. "Told me they used to belong to a Bishop, but he gave them away..."

Éponine wasn't sure how to respond, but he continued speaking. "You were lucky last time. But not tonight." Éponine realized the meaning of his words, and instinctively moved closer to him, her face twisting slightly in pain.

"No, Monsieur, please!" She begged. "You don't know what they would do to me." She started to move closer, but he stepped back, his face remaining blank.

His eyes hardened. "Then you should have thought about that before you decided to break into my house."

Éponine dropped her gaze to the ground, her voice dropping slightly as well. "I did not know this was your house, Monsieur. I wouldn't have come."

"That only makes it worse!" He burst out. "If not my house, then some other innocent's house." He moved over to a window, looking out into the street. "Every day the police come by my house on their. They should be here in a few minutes." He seemed to be speaking to himself, but Éponine still paled at his words.

"What did you mean, the other day?" He kept his back to her, but addressed her over his shoulder. "When I told you that there were other ways to make money, and you said 'not for you'?"

Éponine gave a derisive laugh, her voice mocking and bitter despite the gravity of the situation. "What, you mean the factories?" She gave another bitter laugh. "The Docks?" He stiffened, and she smirked. "I have done both, Monsieur, neither worth much."

He turned to her, his eyes softening only slightly. "The Docks?" He repeated, staring at her with an incomprehensible expression on his face. "Why would you choose to go there?"

Éponine's face hardened. "I had no choice, Monsieur."

"Everyone has a choice." His tone was disbelieving. "Even you."

She shook her head. "Not me."

Now he was angry. "You chose to steal. You chose to sneak in here. You chose to try and steal from me again, even though I had done you no wrong." Every word was like a blow.

"I did not choose!" She burst out hotly. "I chose none of this! I had no choice! It's either steal or suffer, for me, Monsieur. I have no choice."

Enjolras stared at her, caught off guard. He turned back to the window, trying to make sense of everything, and already doubting whether calling the police was a good idea. Steal or suffer? Is that really what it came to? He cringed at the casual way she had mentioned The Docks, as though it were an everyday occurrence. It struck him that it very well could be.

"Everyone has a choice," he whispered, more to convince himself than her.

"Well, maybe you're talking to the wrong people."

He turned to see her looking through his work; his books and notes from school and the revolution. "Here, watcha do with all these books?" She forced a casual tone. She picked one up, and held it almost reverently. "I coulda been a student too. Don't judge a girl on how she looks. I know a lot of things, I do!"

He came over and took the book gently from her hands, placing it back on the shelf. "The things you know, you wouldn't find in books like these."

She dropped her gaze, peeking shyly up at him. "I like the way you talk, Monsieur".

He stopped and blinked several times; taken aback, and she smiled, then frowned at the faint sound of marching. She moved past him to the window and watched as the police came closer. "There go the police," she said, preparing herself to be led away in chains.

Enjolras looked over at the candlesticks and sighed. "Yes, there they go," he said, looking over her shoulder at the uniformed men who marched past the house. She turned, surprised, and frightened. If he wasn't going to call the police, what was he going to do?

"Go home," he sighed, defeated.

"What?" she whispered, looking up at him sharply.

"Go home," he repeated, his face once more returning to an expressionless slab of marble. Éponine slowly made her way to the door, watching him closely to see if it was a trick. But just like before, he was letting her go. She opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and without a second look, she ran.