A/N: Things are moving! Please remember to tell me what you're thinking. Reviews drive me. ;)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter Twelve: Telephone Wires
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March 28th; Miami, Florida
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Max Landon happened to be quite a prideful man. So when Veronica Rose Walter had broken up with him right when he was recovering from a major drug addiction, his pride had been a little more than crushed.
More like pulverized. Even more so when, through gossip spread by the worst nurses he'd ever come in contact with, Max found out Veronica was already "seeing someone" barely two days after she'd ended things with him. Some guy by the name of Jack Enjolras – a resident sex god who apparently didn't have much sex.
Angry and bitter, he'd high-tailed it out of West Bath, Maine as fast as possible once discharged from the hospital, grabbing an open job for a middle school teacher in Miami, Florida. There he'd coincidentally met Ben Montparnasse, one of Veronica's ex-boyfriends. Well, Éponine's ex-boyfriend. It was funny, how in a world so large, Max ran into Ben. Bonding over a mutual loathing for Éponine, the pair jokingly plotted her demise over beers and weed. It'd all started out as fun and games until Max mistakenly called Jack Enjolras.
Then things took a turn for the worse – or maybe the better? Max wasn't so sure.
Max had told Ben of his mistake – how he'd meant to call Ben's new number, but somehow ended up calling (of all people) Jack Enjolras and how he was the guy Éponine had left him for, apparently. Ben had been elated, and it wasn't long until Max had nearly gotten himself into a heap of trouble helping Ben try to break Éponine's father out of prison. After her mother had broken out months before, a small ring had formed, attempting to figure out how to release her father. Their plan – executed too early – had back-fired, and they narrowly escaped being caught. Ultimately, the plan was to get Éponine and Gavroche back to Florida, back to "where they belonged," and that could be more easily accomplished if they had Paul Thenardier on their side. Besides, Ben had sworn to Max that when she returned, he could take out his revenge: he wasn't about to let that opportunity pass him by.
It excited him.
But it made him nervous at the same time.
Still, Max went along with Ben and his gang: drinking far into the night, smoking way too much weed to be safe for a middle school teacher, sometimes robbing a gas station here and there for added fun. It was a miracle he was still employed.
Every day, Max went to work, rode through the motions, and at night, he drank, and smoked, and pillaged, and planned. He was just waiting for the day when Ben would stand up and say, "Max, she's back."
It was only a matter of time.
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March 29th; Denver, Colorado.
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"So what you're telling me is that your bestfriend's boyfriend found out where you kinda-sorta girlfriend lives and he went all the way to Texas to find her and then got killed in a drive-by?" Cory repeated Enjolras' tale, waving his fork around.
Enjolras nodded, stabbing his fork into his Chinese food. "Yeah."
"And, remind me, why aren't you in Texas right now?"
Taking a bite of his egg roll, Enjolras shrugged. "I dunno."
Cory dropped his fork, shaking his head. "Nope, no answer."
They sat on Enjolras' living room floor, sort of playing X-Box, sort of stuffing their faces with Chinese food at the same time. Enjolras had invited Cory over for dinner that Friday night after work to try to actually form some-what of a friendship. In Cory's eyes, they were probably best friends, but to Enjolras, they were still in the stage of awkward acquaintances. If he was going to stay in Colorado forever, he might as well have one good friend.
"I just don't want to go and find her," he said slowly. Blatant, blatant lie. Deep in his gut, Enjolras felt the ever-constant drive to up and leave the record store, hop in the next plane, and find her. But his fear held him back.
"You're lying."
Enjolras' jaw clenched as he shook his head. "I am not."
"You're not looking at me. You're looking at the plate." Cory scoffed. "Of course you're lying."
He looked up quickly. "Cory, this isn't – "
"Look, if I ever got the chance to see Ellie again if she had disappeared, I would take it. Even if it meant going through or seeing painful things." He raised his eyebrows, eating a large bite of food.
Enjolras had to admit that Cory had him pegged. He wouldn't ever say it out loud, but the two had gone through similar losses. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.
"I wouldn't even know where to start."
Cory shrugged and stood up, carrying his plate to the sink. As he washed his hands, he glanced across the hall, casually catching a glance of the law degree that hung on Enjolras' bedroom wall. "Hey! I didn't know you were a lawyer!"
Enjolras colored and stood up quickly, running to close his bedroom door. "Yeah, not anymore."
Cory nodded sympathetically. "Oh, yeah, Éponine?"
"No, actually," Enjolras bit back.
"Fine. Touchy, touchy."
"I'm – I'm sorry. The law firm I was at just didn't work out – that's all."
"It's fine. The information is just good for reference."
"Why?"
Cory flashed him a toothy grin. "You never know – maybe I'll need a lawyer."
Enjolras chuckled, gathering the leftovers from the living room. "Yeah, maybe."
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April 3rd; Sonoma County, California.
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Rule number one of the Witness Protection Program was quiet simple: Under no circumstances should the witness attempt to make contact with anyone from their previous life.
Éponine had managed to break that rule twice: once with Adrienne, and the second time with Grantaire. Like always, it rained throughout April. And after being cooped up in the house with a sulking Jason and a bitter Gavroche, Éponine itched for freedom. So, she left one afternoon to go to the local library. Only, she'd gotten sidetracked by a small bistro and ended up calling Grantaire using the pay-phone the shop provided for the general public. There was no doubt in her mind that Jason kept track of her phone records; it was better to be safe than sorry.
Continuously looking over her shoulder, the breath in her lungs stilled when Grantaire answered the phone. "Hello?"
"R! R, it's me – Éponine!" She bent toward the wall, hiding herself from the customers, no doubt only making herself look more suspicious.
"Éponine? Is – is it really – "
"Yes, it's me!" She bit back a large smile threatening to crack her face in two.
"Oh my god.."
"How are you?" she breathed, her stomach clenching. "I know about – I know about Ryan." There was no way she would tell him she'd been in the room when Ryan was shot; there was no way she could tell him the truth.
Grantaire's sigh wavered. "I – I'm alright."
"Bullshit," she whispered, shaking her head. Éponine glanced over her shoulder once more, just in case. "How are you, really?"
"Where are you?" He changed the subject deftly, catching Éponine off guard.
After a long moment, she composed herself. "I – I can't say."
"You can't? Or you won't?" His tone was biting, rude.
Éponine pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. "Both."
"I've talked with Enjolras – "
Éponine sucked in a sharp, harsh breath.
"He knows where you are."
She shook her head lightly, the hair falling away from behind her ears. Not anymore, she thought. Still, the idea of Jack knowing where she'd used to be made her heart skip a beat. How long had he known? Why hadn't he tried to come and find her? Her feelings for him had not waned; she was positive – more than positive – that she loved him. Though she didn't think of him as much as she had once she'd first moved to Texas, he still circled her thoughts often.
She wondered if he'd stopped thinking about her, if he'd moved on. Her heart told her he hadn't. Even though their relationship had only been in the beginning stages, Éponine knew they'd shared something special. But then again, her mind reminded her of how inexperienced Enjolras was when it came to relationships. He surely would have been able to move on faster than she.
"And?" she asked, voice quiet.
"I'm not sure."
"He's not – not coming to find me?"
"I don't know. Éponine, where are you?! Please tell me." He choked back a sob and Éponine held back one of her own. "I – I need you."
"I can't tell you," she whispered.
"Please – tell me."
Éponine tilted her head back, breathing heavily. "I can't!" She pounded a clenched fist onto the wall in anger. "I have to go."
"Fine, you're right. You probably broke a lot of rules to call me in the first place."
"Grantaire, please, you have to understand – "
"I understand perfectly well. Thank you for calling me, I guess."
"Grantaire – "
He hung up before she could finish her sentence.
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April 5th; Denver, Colorado
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Enjolras tried dating again for the second time. He didn't know what possessed him to do it – probably just exercising his free will – but he did it anyway. Her name was Marie, and Enjolras was unwilling to admit to himself that she bore a striking resemblance to Éponine. They met at a fancy restaurant in Denver and she ordered barely any food, maybe trying to impress him.
After a good bit of stilted conversation – bland and nothing of substance, Enjolras' cellphone rang. Normally, he would have colored and excused himself, ignoring the call. But checking the caller ID and finding Grantaire's name on the screen, he excused himself to take the call. Stepping away from Marie's line of sight, he held the phone to his ear.
"Axel? You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!"
"Are you.. running?"
On the other end of the line, Grantaire's voice cracked and the background noise turned quiet suddenly. His breathing grew labored. "No – well, yes, kind of. Look, I've got something to tell you."
"I'm kind of in the middle of something right now." Enjolras leaned back and caught a glance of Marie on her phone, tapping her foot impatiently.
"I guarantee this is more important."
Enjolras groaned and rubbed his forehead, turning around to face the wall behind him. "Okay. Shoot."
"I pretty much have Éponine's exact location."
"What do you mean?" Enjolras glanced at Marie once more.
"What do you mean what do I mean?! I know where she is!"
Against his better judgment, but centered on the rapid beating of his heart, Enjolras whispered, "Where?"
"California!"
"California?" Enjolras recoiled. "I thought you said – "
"Texas, I know. But she called me like two days ago and I tracked down where the number came from: some random-ass bistro in California."
"She – she called you?"
"Not the point. The point is I'm running in the airport trying to catch my flight to Colorado Springs because you and I are going to California." He paused. "So, when can you pick me up from the airport?"
Without a second of hesitation, Enjolras replied, "The minute you land."
