A/N: Hey! So, though I will be introducing another story line this chapter, I will also address the ones we've already touched on (Eponine and Enjolras).

Also, once again, I apologize for the writing. I've been on spring break (I MET AARON TVEIT IN NEW YORK) so this has been written in little bursts here and there.

Chapter Two: Courfeyrac

Seven years earlier

October chill pierced the valley and fog circled the mountains as heavy music throbbed behind Courfeyrac. He turned to look at the house just behind him- lit with orange fairy lights and decorated with macabre skulls and streaks of blood. An angel sat in the lap of a devil and Marilyn Monroe made out with Al Capone.

It was Halloween in a college town- and it was beautiful.

Two drunk figures stumbled from the house. Tinkerbell and Peter Pan, clutching hands and giggling like the lovesick children they were.

"Courfeyrac!" Marius called, dragging Cosette behind him. "Where are you going? It's only 1:30!"

"And I have a workout date before work with Combeferre at five. I need all three hours of sleep I might get if I go home now," he said to his friends.

"Or, better yet, don't sleep at all," Cosette suggested, stepping forward and grabbing his hand. "This party will die right now if drag Wonder Woman leaves."

He snorted. "I doubt that."

"You'll regret it," Marius teased, coming up behind Cosette and wrapping his arms around her mint-green waist.

"And you'll regret going to work hungover tomorrow, especially since Javert already hates you because you've been dating an underage girl for three years."

"Hey!" Cosette exclaimed, sinking further into Marius's arms. "We didn't date until last year, and we didn't do anything until I turned eighteen. Hell, he only kissed me once before then."

"Sure. Whatever you say," Courfeyrac said with a wink. "I really have to go, though."

Ignoring the couple's continued protests, he clicked down the empty sidewalks in his heeled boots. Knowing he had a long walk to the bus stop, perhaps wearing such high heels was a bad idea. It was eerie, really, how the world seemed to cease its existence once he was out of earshot of the music. The only sound was of his footsteps and heavy breaths as he made his way to the tunnel.

He scratched at his head- he was really regretting the wonder woman outfit now, though upon its first conception it seemed like such a wonderful idea. The curly, brown wig was itching and the corset was making it hard to breathe.

Someone else entered the tunnel from the other end, a hunched, hooded figure. As the two of them passed each other, a chill ran down Courfeyrac's spine.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his arm.

"Maman?" the other man asked. He wore a sketchy, homemade mask over his face, concealing any defining features.

"Sorry, dude, I'm not your mother," Courfeyrac muttered, trying to pull free. The man's grasp wouldn't budge.

"You won't hurt us anymore."

What?

The rest happened so quickly he couldn't quite register it. There were hands around his throat, pressing him against the wall of the tunnel, squeezing.

No... He thought as he fought for dear life. Nine women killed in this tunnel in two years... all alone, all with dark, curly hair...

As the orange lights began to turn black in his vision, Courfeyrac noticed that his assailant was crying.

Present day

Courfeyrac sat at the bus stop, staring at his phone in disbelief. Seven years... seven years, the Strangler had been inactive, and suddenly there's another attack. Musichetta, the waitress at the Corinthe was the next victim... Alone, dark curly hair, tunnel...

He dropped his phone into his lap and breathed heavily. He'd survived, but just barely. To this day, he still felt as though he'd lost a part of himself that Halloween night that no amount of doctors or therapy could return. Almost as though the Strangler left town with Courfeyrac's soul.

The bus hissed up to where he sat, and he hurriedly bounded up the steps, pressing a few coins into the hand of the bus driver. He hated being in the dark by himself... yes, he was a grown man, but fears are solid no matter what age you are.

The only other person on the bus was a boy, somewhere between ten and twelve, with stringy blonde hair. He stared at Courfeyrac. Unsettled, Courfeyrac turned towards the front of the bus, feeling the child's gaze on the back of his neck.

He must be homeless, lonely, and lost, he told himself. Don't be frightened just because his eyes have lingered.

Even then, he waited impatiently for the bus to stop at his apartment building, and once it did, he leapt up and all but ran off the bus. There were light footsteps behind him.

He turned, and there was the boy, looking up with big, blue eyes.

"Do you want some money? Some food? Are you lost?"

There was no answer, but the boy stepped forward and slipped his hand into Courfeyrac's.

What the fuck do I do now?

It all seemed to happen so quickly. One minute, Eponine was trying to push the strange man from the Corinthe out of her head. He seemed eerily familiar. His eyes rose through her memories, dredging thoughts of childhood nights and slow dances through smoke, and a song…

I love the way you sleep when you're angry…

But it couldn't be. The band that wrote the song used to frequent the Corinthe, but they fell apart after their manager died when Eponine was ten. Les Amis de l'ABC, they were called. Why did he rise to her mind with that song behind him? He had nothing to do with the band.

And yet, she could have sworn she'd seen the blonde man's face before…

Her thoughts were distracted by a knock on her wall and just like that, there was a form framed against the light coming from the hallway, their face darkened by shadows, and yet Eponine would recognize her sister anywhere. Azelma…The girl she buried four years ago.

The thing that wore her sister's face stepped towards her, mouth hanging open and dark eyes bright and alive. Eponine jolted away, crashing against her dresser. The dull pain in her back told her this wasn't a dream.

"Fantine!" she screamed, sinking to the floor and curling into herself. Ghosts aren't real. The dead are good and gone. Azelma is in a coffin, buried, in the same place she's been for the past four years. Once again, she cried out for her caregiver, "FANTINE!"

Fantine's footsteps sounded in the hall—far away, too far away—and just above that, layered like ages of dirt over a body, the sound of soft crying. The footsteps stopped, finally close enough.

Eponine opened her eyes, expecting Fantine to help her now that she'd gone crazy. Instead, her heart throbbed when the woman chose to kneel at the side of the monster masquerading as Azelma.

"Maman," the thing cried. "I want maman…"

"What the hell is going on?" Eponine snapped, forcing herself to stand. Her knees threatened to buckle out from under her.

"Eponine—"

"What is she? Why is she here?"

Fear and anger wrestled in her, simmering under her skin. She wished she could slice open her arm and bleed out the emotions and feel normal again.

Gently, Fantine said, "This is Azelma. It's your sister." Her voice was obnoxiously calm.

"No, it's not," Eponine seethed. "Azelma is gone, you know that. My sister died four years ago. I don't know what this thing is, but it sure as hell isn't her."

The girl on the ground sobbed, clinging to Fantine, quivering like a browned leaf in the winter wind.

"Maman… where is maman?"

Unable to take it any longer, Eponine screamed, "Shut up!" Angry tears burned in her eyes. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

"Eponine!" Fantine exclaimed, horrified. Once again, the repetitive spirit sniggled.

"I want maman."

"Mother died. So did Azelma. They died and left me alone. YOU LEFT ME."

"Shhh," Fantine cooed, standing and reaching out a hand. Eponine just stared at it. "I'm here. I won't leave you. I'm here, Eponine. And, by some inexplicable miracle, so is Azelma. Let's just be grateful."

Eponine's heart thudded in her chest. Surely she was dreaming. This couldn't actually be happening. The beats of heavy silence were suffocating. Thankfully, a soft voice broke the quiet.

"Is maman really dead?" Azelma asked. Her voice was thick.

Hesitantly, Eponine nodded. "She died of lung cancer last year. By the time she was diagnosed, there was nothing that could be done."

Azelma nodded, slowly. "And papa?"

"Just as useless as he was when you were alive, only now he rinks more and refuses to return home," Eponine said, bitterly.

Azelma winced. "Is it my fault?"

Eponine didn't bother humoring Fantine's silent plea to be gentle. "Yes."

"Eponine!"

"I'm not going to lie to her," she said, defensively. The light from the hallway was suddenly way to bright, like the mocking glow of an unattainable heaven. Eponine blinked, the cold air from her open window numbing her back. "I… I can't do this," she muttered, pushing past Fantine and Azelma.

She stomped through the dusty, cavernous hallways of the nearly empty house, ignoring the voices that called after her. Barely remembering to grab a jacket off the hanger by the door, she braced herself against the cold, damp air. Through her teary vision and desperate desire for a drink, she didn't notice as the lights in her house flickered sporadically before plunging into darkness.

Dizzy, disoriented, cold, and lost, Enjolras stepped back to the place he knew the best. The Corinthe. Where the hell was his phone? Why was his apartment code changed? Maybe one of the band members would be there. Maybe they could help him…

But he thought Cosette would help him. He thought Cosette was the person who loved him the most, and yet he was proven wrong.

The lights were off but for a singular string of fairy lights along the bar. The woman from earlier was sitting on the stool, slowly drinking. A familiar song played over the speakers.

I love the way you sleep when you're angry…

He wrote it, back when he thought he was in love with a fellow student at the university. He couldn't even remember the girl's name.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, taking a seat beside the girl.

She chuckled darkly. "They've gone home. The Corinthe closes at 2 am. Everyone knows that."

"No… Last call is always at four," he shot back. "It always has been."

She snorted. "Nice try. We changed it seven years ago."

What?

Not that he hadn't figured it out already, but he knew that something was very, very wrong. He needed to find some way to figure out exactly how long it had been since… since the day he stopped remembering everything. What had he done in those years? What did he look like? Enjolras was afraid to look in the mirror.

"2006… how long ago was that?" he asked, casually. The girl looked at him funnily before rolling her eyes.

"Either you're stupid or you're drunk. Either way, you might actually be fun to talk to."

"My math isn't the best."

That was a lie. He had a criminal justice degree and a minor in algebra.

"It was ten years ago. Literally the easiest year you could have asked about."

Suddenly everything hurt his head. The song that he used to be so proud of, the sound of the ice clinking in the glass cup, and the dim lights. He leaned forward, clutching his head and moaning.

"Damn, are you alright?"

"No… just…" he forced himself to sit up and fake a smile. "It feels like it was just yesterday."

Literally.

"I know how you feel. If I see that a movie came out in 2012, I'll think, wow, that was like, last year."

Not at all what I meant.

"I'm Jean-Luc Enjolras," he said, holding out his hand. Staring into her eyes, he was suddenly struck. He knew exactly who this girl was. It was one of Thernardier's young daughters who used to run around and wreak havoc on the bar.

"I'm Eponine Thernardier. My dad owns this place."

"Yeah, I know."

"Then how didn't you recognize me earlier?"

"I haven't seen you, but everyone knows your dad."

She scowled, staring into her scotch. "Yeah, don't remind me."

"Is there any way you could help me find Cosette?" he asked. She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I already helped you. Thanks for the thanks, by the way." She muttered into her drink, "Asshole."

"Thanks. But… I need to see her again. In a public space."

"Why? Did you guys not have the sweet reunion you expected?" she asked, sarcastically.

"No. We didn't. And I want to talk to her, but she won't freak out in public," he said. "I don't think so, anyway."

"How do you even know her? She hasn't dated anyone except Marius. Unless you two were middle school lovers or something," she teased.

"That's gross. We're old friends."

Ten years… she's twenty five. She's a woman. She's older than I am—than I was, last time I remember.

"Well, I'll help you, but this is the second time I've assisted a boy chasing after her. It gets a little tiring being the messaging girl," she said, blandly.

"The second time?"

She blinked. "Are you sure you live around here? Everyone knows the story of Marius and Cosette."

"Refresh me."

"They met when she was fifteen and he was eighteen. He flirted with her for two years by having my sister and I deliver messages. When she was seventeen they began to date and now they're engaged. Getting married next week. The whole town is going."

I should have been there. I should have given her advice and made sure he wouldn't hurt her, he thought, but he couldn't help but also be grateful that she had someone with her during… during the years he couldn't remember.

"What is this Marius guy like?"

"Are you sure you aren't her ex?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Snappy. Well… he's cute. A little nerdy. He's fluent in English and German in addition to French. He comes from a rich family and he's a police officer. All in all, a pretty damn good suitor for your 'old friend'," Eponine told him, taking another sip of her scotch.

"You'll help me find her tomorrow, though?"

"Yeah, yeah. She's a kindergarten teacher. Recess is at one."

Shout out to astoryinred, shadows-of-1832, and PeachesPoison for reviewing!

See you guys soon! Next chapter we'll find out exactly how Enjolras and Eponine know each other... and will our poor "ghosties" find any solace with the living?