A/N: Hello again, my dears! Thank you for bearing with me as I grind this story out little by little. It's finals week, so I haven't been able to write a ton, but thank you for being patient with me, and for all of your feedback on the last chapter! I absolutely love hearing from you. Enjoy this one!

Enjolras barely slept that night. All he could think of was his father, his mother, Fantine, Cosette, the girl who may or may not be his half-sister…everything he'd ever known had been turned upside down, and only in the space of one day.

As he slowly drifted into an uneasy sleep, he realized that Éponine hadn't left his mind either…

He was reliving the afternoon in the office again, pacing the floor and screaming in rage at her. He could hear her sobbing as clear as day, washing around him, surrounding him…terrifying him. He didn't know what it was that scared him, but all he wanted was out. When she looked up at him again, the betrayal in her eyes was all the clearer, and it was a knife to his heart. Why had he done nothing for her? Why had he let her cry?

Because she lied to me, the voice in his head insisted. Why should I listen to anything she has to say? She used me!

As if the Éponine in his dreams could hear his thoughts, the terror and betrayal in her eyes only grew. "You asked me where it ends? It ends here. I wish I had never met you, Richard Enjolras."

Enjolras started awake, breathing heavily and holding stock still in bed. It took him a moment to realize that he had the sheets in a death grip, and he gradually loosened his fists, trying to slow down his pounding heart. He turned his head enough to see the large clock against the next wall, which read 3:05 a.m.

He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and sighing heavily. Why had the dream bothered him so much? Why did he so badly want her to be part of his life, despite everything she'd told him? He sighed again in frustration, rubbing his temples.

I just can't get her out of my head…

She was back in the office, listening to him scream in rage after she'd told him her secret, which was when everything was supposed to be clear between them. No more deception, no more lying by omission, she'd thought. But everything had gone all wrong, and now here she was, cowering in fear and listening to his yelling.

When it finally ended, she was afraid to look up from her fetal position. But she did, only to see his eyes filled with hatred. She couldn't bear to see that look on his face. But when she turned around, her father and Montparnasse were standing in the doorway.

"Hello, sweetie," Montparnasse purred in a voice like poisonous honey, before he and her father each grabbed one of her arms and dragged her out of the office, screaming.

Éponine shot bolt upright in her bed from the nightmare, panting and drenched in a cold sweat. She swallowed hard as she slowly came to her senses, realizing that she was only in her apartment, in her bed.

Alone. Like you always are, 'Ponine.

As she slowly lay back down, her slender fingers involuntarily stretched out to the other side of the bed, as if to reach out for another person there. She sighed to herself, only a little resentful when they tightened around empty sheets.

And for some inexplicable reason, the only man she wanted to see there was Richard Enjolras…

After they'd kissed, she'd thought – she'd known – that there were mutual feelings there. The way he'd looked into her eyes before she leaned in for it…Éponine wasn't too experienced when it came to love, but her gut told her that Richard Enjolras had felt something that night, even if neither of them knew what it was. She wished they could go back to the time they spent together before everything had gone wrong.

She could picture him there when she closed her eyes – his arm was closely wrapped around her waist as she curled into his warm chest, her head resting over his heart. She'd listen to the constant bass rhythm that kept him alive, her breathing aligning with it as she slowly drifted off…

Enjolras woke up around 7:00 a.m. the next morning, weary and sore. With a hint of dread, he realized that it was Saturday. Fantine would be coming to his apartment today, hopefully with her daughter – his possible half-sister – in tow. He got out of bed with a heavy sigh and got ready for the day, even putting on a suit and tie. After all, this was a meeting with a client; he had to dress the part.

He was drinking his coffee and reading the paper – there was an article about Thénardier's upcoming trial, and he tried not to think of Éponine – when he heard the timid knock at the door. Glad for the distraction, he put down his coffee and went to the door, where two hooded women met him.

"Mr. Enjolras," a familiar voice murmured, looking down.

"I told you to call me Richard, Fantine," he said quietly, ushering them in as he shut the door behind them. "I assume this is your daughter?"

Fantine nodded as she cast off her hood, but the girl – Euphraise – left hers on. "This is my daughter, Euphraise or Cosette."

"Ms. Tholomyés," Enjolras murmured, inclining his head to her.

"Take off your hood, my dear," Fantine murmured to her. Two slender hands reached up to push it down, and Enjolras couldn't help but gasp when he saw her face.

If his father had been a twenty-something-year-old woman, it would be the one standing in front of him. Her big blue eyes were the exact same shade as his, and she had long blonde hair that tumbled in curls around her shoulders. She was slim; the same wiry build as her mother, but the face of his father – our father, he realized.

"My God…" he whispered, looking at her for a moment longer before his gaze shifted to Fantine. "So it's true."

The brunette woman nodded as she sat down on the sofa. "I assume you read your father's journal?"

"It kept me from sleeping last night," he replied, grim and unsmiling. "I practically idolized him as a child…it's hard for me to reconcile the way I've always seen him with the way he truly is." He sighed heavily. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. Obviously I'll help you; I just don't know if we can pull it off."

"Hopefully, a jury would have the same reaction you just did," Fantine remarked dryly.

Enjolras snorted. "I should hope so." He turned to Cosette. "You are the spitting image of our father," he said, the words feeling strange on his tongue. "How do you feel about appearing in court?" The girl looked surprised that he had addressed her, and clearly didn't know what to say. She glanced at her mother, who nodded at her to speak.

"What would I have to do?" she asked in a small voice.

Enjolras was surprised at how timid she sounded, but proceeded to answer her in what he hoped wasn't an overly lawyer-esque tone. "Since your mother wants to prosecute Father for never sending child support for you, your presence in court would be confirmation to the jury that you are also his child, and would be, in essence, the clincher we'd need to prove him guilty," he explained. "If the resemblance doesn't convince a jury, then the journal entries I read last night certainly will." He noticed as he spoke that Fantine was listening intently as she pulled her tattered shawl tighter around her shoulders. There was a steely gleam in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before, like she was determined to get what she wanted this time. "He incriminated himself 28 years ago, without even trying."

"So all I need to do is be there?" Cosette asked quietly.

"If all goes the way I plan, you'll need to come forward to the front of the courtroom and stand next to him, facing the judge and the jury when I ask it of you," Enjolras said. "Past that, I'll be showing the jury the entries I read from Father's journal and questioning him about them. We should have him snared in the cross-examination."

"And what if they try to blame me for everything?" Fantine asked quietly. "For 'seducing' him?"

Enjolras pondered for a moment before answering. It was a potential snag, and not one he'd thought of before now. "He mentions in one journal entry that he doesn't remember how he got to you," Enjolras said slowly. "Therefore, he can't definitely claim you seduced him if he has no memory except waking up with you. If you're willing, you could always go on the stand and testify to your innocence," he added.

"I'm a woman," she remarked shrewdly. "Would they listen to me?"

"If I call you to the stand, they'll have no choice but to listen," Enjolras said firmly. "The jury has to listen to whomever the lawyers call up, regardless of sex."

She smiled grimly. "Thank you, Richard."

"You're welcome, Fantine," he said with a small nod. "I think we've accomplished a lot today. I'll let you know next time I'm filling in at my father's office, and you can come see me."

Éponine woke up in the back room of the Whitehorse feeling particularly well-rested. She sat up slightly in the small bed, curling her knees up to her chest and thinking about the nightmare she'd had last night. As she sat there by herself, Éponine began to wonder if she would ever see Enjolras again. The optimistic part of her prayed she would, but she knew it was incredibly unlikely. How am I supposed to fix that fight? I can't take care of all that anger on my own.

She finally made herself get up, rubbing the last of the sleep from her eyes, and walked towards the main room of the speakeasy, her bare feet padding softly across the hard concrete floor. She shivered a little, wishing she had her robe to put on.

But when she opened the door, she couldn't have anticipated what awaited her. There were 3 police officers in the speakeasy, and a clearly terrified Mac was being put in handcuffs. "Mac!" She cried.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" one of the officers said menacingly. "Running two side businesses at once, Mac? I must say, I'm impressed."

Mac was clearly flabbergasted at the accusation. "W-what? No! She's not – I'm not – "

"I'm not a prostitute!" Éponine nearly shrieked. She felt a twinge of guilt for the bitter lie on her tongue, mostly because it made her think of the conversation with Enjolras yesterday that had spawned her nightmare. "And he's not a pimp!"

The officer's laugh was so…evil that it almost made Éponine sick. "All evidence to the contrary, my dear," he said to her. "Why else would you be waking up in the back of his speakeasy, hmm?"

"Because he's my boss, and I couldn't go home last night!" she said, trying not to cry. When she realized what she said, her hand flew to her mouth. Shit! What's going to happen now? They know I work at a speakeasy, and they think I'm being pimped out by Mac…they're going to arrest us both. Will either of us even get a trial?

One of the cops that had handcuffed Mac now spoke up, eyeing her. "Your boss, eh?" He nodded to the third officer, who was lounging on the bar. "We'll take her in, too."

Éponine shrank back behind the door in fear as the officer approached her with handcuffs; Mac could only look on, powerless to stop it. "Wait – please!" she cried as he roughly grabbed her shoulder, slapping the first cuff onto her wrist before he paused, looking closely at her face.

"You…" he murmured.

That was all it took for Éponine to recognize him – she remembered that her father had forced her to seduce him a few weeks ago, just before she started working at the Whitehorse. "You…!" she echoed in a quiet whisper of mortal fear.

"You two know each other?" one of the other officers asked, sounding both surprised and impatient.

"A whore like this one? I wouldn't be caught dead with someone like her," he spat coldly as he finished cuffing her.

His superior regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before he relaxed. "You better not," he said, still eyeing the two of them. "Now come on, let's get these two downtown."

Enjolras spent the rest of his day brooding on Fantine and Cosette, and how he was supposed to prosecute his father. It was going to be a difficult case, considering his lack of solid evidence and experience in the courtroom. He'd watched most of his father's open-courtroom cases since he was a child; ever since Mother died, he couldn't have stayed home on his own. The worst thing about having to prosecute a lawyer was that he would know every trick in the book. Enjolras was trying to prove the guilt of a man who'd taught him everything he knew. His father would be able to predict his every move.

After an uneasy sleep, he got up at 6:00 am on Sunday morning to get ready for Mass with his father at St. Peter's. The two men went faithfully every week, and had for as long as the younger Enjolras could remember.

As he put on his suit and tie, a dream from the previous night flashed briefly through his mind…

He stood in front of the mirror, straightening his tie and smoothing down his shirt for church. Two hands appeared on his shoulders, slender fingers curling onto his chest as his wife's grinning face popped into the glass. "Hello, you," Éponine grinned as he turned around to face her. She was wearing a simple blue dress that cinched at the waist and fell to her mid-calves with sensible white shoes. Her long hair was tied back loosely.

"Mmh, hello," he smiled, kissing her lips softly. His hand went to rest on her waist as hers went to his chest. "Ready to go?"

"Almost," she said. Enjolras followed his wife into the nursery across the hall from their room, where their infant son lay sound asleep in his crib. Henry Richard Enjolras yawned deeply, waving his tiny fists in his sleep as his mother picked him up and cradled him in her arms, smiling at her husband. His heart filled with pride as he looked at his wife and son. He kissed the baby boy's forehead and smiled at Éponine. "Alright, let's go."

He came back to reality stock still, his hands still on his tie. He shook his head briefly to clear it as he finished cinching it up. It's never going to happen, Richard. That baby boy is never going to be real.

For the whole drive to the church, Enjolras thought about Éponine, and what she'd done to him. He'd noticed that he'd been angrier ever since she left. He didn't know if he was angry with himself or with her, but his outlook on the world seemed to be grayer. That woman had done something to him, and the fact that he didn't know what it was vexed him to no end.

The congregation was milling around and chatting outside the church when Enjolras rolled into the parking lot 15 minutes before the start of the service. He spotted his father standing outside the door, engaged in conversation with the new priest, a young man who was just out of school. He caught his father's attention from the door of his car and walked over.

"Ah good, you made it," his father said as he arrived.

"Of course I made it, Father. Why would I miss?" Enjolras answered, trying not to be angry at his father's pretentious attitude. And that was another thing – his temper had gotten significantly shorter since the horrible confrontation with Éponine. It was as though he couldn't tolerate questions, or anything past his normal routine. His father's lip curled, but he didn't answer; instead turning his back to go into the church.

"Mr. Enjolras? Are you well?" The priest asked him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Enjolras hadn't noticed his angry, labored breathing until the man spoke to him. "I'm fine," he said, attempting to calm down. "Just feeling…burdened," he said haltingly. It wasn't a lie, he decided; there was quite a bit on his mind.

"Come in, and lay your burdens down at the feet of God," the man smiled, leading him into the church. Enjolras couldn't lie; he felt a little better as he walked in alongside the priest and sat next to his father in one of the pews close to the front of the church.

However, as soon as the Mass started again, he felt only as though he were going through the motions – making the sign of the cross, standing and sitting as was appropriate, reciting the prayers from memory the way he had since he was a small child. The priest's message that day was even on the importance of the family unit, and all Enjolras could think of was his dream about Éponine. It had all felt so real – her hands on his shoulders, her smile, her laugh, her kiss…

Stop it, Richard, he scolded himself. You can't do this to yourself for the rest of your life. She's never going to be yours, and you have to let it go. Let her go. It's never going to happen.

Finally, the Mass ended. As they were putting on their coats to leave, his father spoke for the first time since before the service.

"I want you to take on a case for me."

Enjolras was slightly surprised; his father had never actually wanted him to work in the courtroom, only observe. "Why?" he asked, unable to keep a slight note of suspicion out of his voice.

"Now that you're out of law school, I want to see how much you can handle," he said as they filed out with the rest of the crowd. "I want to know I'll be leaving my firm in good hands when I decide to retire."

He considered it for a moment. Was it really wise to take on a case from the man he would soon be attempting to prosecute? Then again, was it really wise to turn down his father? "Alright, what is it?" he asked.

"A few of my cop friends busted a speakeasy the other day," he said. "They caught the owner and his bartender, who may or may not have been selling herself out of his back room. I want you to take on prosecuting the woman for prostitution."

Enjolras bristled. He knew exactly what his father was trying to do, and he refused to help him. "I'm not going to throw Éponine in jail, Father. I don't care what you say."

"How do you know it's her?" his father remarked snidely.

"Why else would you want me to take on the case?" he shot back as they stepped out of the church. "You want me to be responsible for finishing her ruin. I can't do that to her, as angry as I am."

"Don't tell me you still care about her," his father snorted derisively as they slipped through the thinning crowd. "She's a whore who was only out for your wallet. Trust me, son. I've seen too many cases of men falling from grace because they were blind to it. I don't want to see the same happen to you."

Enjolras bit his tongue, resisting the urge to make a snide remark that would reveal too much. "I don't care about her anymore," he lied through gritted teeth. "But despite that fact, I am a gentleman, and I will not sour my own reputation by ruining hers."

"You'll ruin your reputation as a prosecutor before you even take over the firm," the older man said angrily. "What good is a man as a lawyer if he can't impartially judge the ones he loves?"

He glared at his father once they reached the car. "We'll talk about this after you close the Thénardier trial," he said. "Not before."

"Done."

Éponine sat on the cold floor of her jail cell, her knees curled up to her chest, and trying not to cry. She couldn't help but be terrified at the prospects of what could happen. She knew she would likely be going on trial for distribution of alcohol and alleged prostitution. What would happen when she lost both cases?

The rattling of keys in the lock interrupted her train of thought. She looked up, wide-eyed, as the officer who cuffed her earlier that day walked into her tiny cell. He grinned smugly when he saw how afraid she was, and she scooted back against the wall as he closed the door and sauntered over to her. She curled into a fetal position again, whimpering with fear, when she felt two fingers under her chin.

"Look at me."

It was a command, not a request. Hesitantly, she made eye contact with him. The next thing she heard was a sharp slapping sound before her cheek caught fire. "Now listen to me, you little slut," he growled, jerking her back around to face him. "I only lied that I didn't remember you to cover my own ass, not yours. I have a wife and a family, and a reputation to protect; you have nothing. You are nothing. Breathe a word of anything involving me in court, I'll have your head," he hissed, before pushing her back into the wall. "Understood?"

She nodded fearfully, now weeping freely. "I won't say anything, I swear!" she sobbed.

"You damn well better not," he growled, leaving the cell. Éponine was alone again, and more frightened than ever. She climbed on the thin, rock-hard mattress and pulled up the scratchy blanket, trying to get some sleep, but when she closed her eyes, all she saw was him…

It was their wedding day, and she was the most beautiful she'd ever been. Never had Éponine smiled so much in one day. As she walked up the aisle, she could tell that he couldn't believe his eyes, and looking at him, she was the happiest she'd ever been.

She finally reached the front of the church, handing her bouquet over to her sister, the maid of honor. Enjolras took her hands in his as she turned to face him, both of them grinning. "You look stunning," he mouthed to her as he slipped the ring onto her finger. Éponine couldn't help but blush.

Then he was kissing her, and everything was perfect.

When she woke up, she was already sobbing.

A/N: So what happens now? Spoilers! Please review. :)