A/N: Hi! I'm finally home for summer, and have some time to write!

For my regulars, a quick update on my side projects - the Les Mis/Doctor Who crossover I'll be writing with Anne-Lilian has not been called off; we just haven't had any time to talk about it! Just be patient with us, and we'll try to have it out in the (hopefully!) not-so-distant future. I'm also cooking up an Enjonine high school AU, in addition to a Frozen fic (don't hate me, but I'm shipping Hans/Elsa in a world where Hans is NOT a butthead). I'll also work on having perhaps a teaser for that up soon!

Anyway, this chapter's going to get interesting! You know the drill - read, review, and most of all, enjoy!

Thénardier walked into the courtroom behind his lawyer, his hands chained but his legs free. He kept his head bowed, partly to appear contrite, and partly to hide his angry glare from the judge and jury. The prosecutor and his son were already standing on their side of the courtroom, and the open seats for the public were starting to fill up. He noticed Éponine sitting towards the back, also handcuffed and with a police officer standing over her shoulder. What'd they get 'er for? He wondered. He forced himself to ignore his daughter as he faced the judge's bench.

"Auguste Thénardier," the judge began, reading aloud from a piece of paper, "you are here on two counts of theft, and four counts of neglect of minors. How do you plead?"

"I ain't guilty, yer Hona," he said resentfully, raising his eyes to look at the judge when he spoke. "I ain't a thief, an' I'm good ta me kids."

"We'll see what the witnesses have to say," the judge answered. "Mr. Enjolras – " he hesitated when he saw both father and son there, before adding, "either of you…you may begin."

"Your Honor, the prosecution calls Éponine Thénardier to the stand," the father said firmly before the son could say anything.

"Do we?" he asked quietly out of the corner of his mouth. His father never said anything about the witnesses they'd be bringing in.

"We do," the elder Enjolras hissed, ending the conversation. "And you'll be questioning her."

The younger man turned his head and watched the terrified girl - who was no longer handcuffed - walk up to the front of the courtroom. Mixed emotions raced through him as the juryman walked over to her, Bible in hand. He could see her left hand trembling as it rested on the book, her right raised into the air.

"Éponine Thénardier, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" he asked.

"I do," she said shakily.

"Sit down, please."

As the juryman sat back down, she took the stand, and Enjolras walked out from behind the bench, his jaw set. He wasn't looking forward to this; however, he put his emotions aside as he looked at her and spoke.

"Ms. Thénardier, can you describe to the jury the quality of living you experienced in your childhood?" he asked as formally as he could. No one else in the room except his father knew that there was history between them, and he intended to keep it hushed until everything was over. After that…he didn't even know what he wanted to do.

Stop it, Richard. No time to think about that now.

She swallowed hard before answering. "Before or after the death of my mother, Mr. Enjolras?" she asked, her voice still shaking.

"Did it change after your mother's death?"

She nodded. "Drastically."

He gestured for her to continue. "Please, tell us how."

Éponine folded her hands together in her lap, looking down for a moment as she gathered her answer. "Well…before Mama died, we had fresh food on the table every day, clean clothes to wear, and the house and inn were both always well-kept. My siblings and I were always happy."

"Can you please clarify for the jury how many siblings you have?"

"I have one sister and three brothers, sir; all younger than me. The last two boys are twins, orphans that were left on the inn's doorstep as newborns."

Enjolras nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Thénardier. Now, how did things change after your mother's passing?"

She bit her lip, holding back tears. This was the hard part. If she told the truth, her father would give her the beating of her life later…but if she lied under oath, she'd be in even more trouble with the law than she already was…what was the lesser of two evils? Did she protect her family, or did she protect herself?

"Ms. Thénardier, we need an answer," the judge said impatiently.

Enjolras paused, looking back and forth between the judge and a clearly very shaken Éponine. Without looking at his father or the judge, he approached the stand; she had to try not to recoil until he took a knee in front of her. "Éponine, you have nothing to be afraid of in these four walls," he said gently; she was surprised at his sudden familiarity with her when he had been so official just moments ago. "Trust me. You're safe here; you can tell us the truth." He got back up and reassumed his previous position as Éponine cleared her throat to speak.

"After Mama died…Papa's grief went out of control," she said. "It…took him over. It took him away from the five of us. H-he...started spending all of his money on liquor…that's how the inn went under, and we had to take to the streets," she explained. "After Prohibition started…" she paused again.

"Keep going, Ms. Thénardier," Enjolras said gently.

She nodded. Something about the sudden gentleness of his voice made her want to keep talking. "After Prohibition started…that was when he first turned to theft. It was only little things first. He enlisted Azelma – my sister – and I to help him. We were both still small; our fingers were still nimble. We could swipe small purses unnoticed off of anyone by the time we were 10 years old."

"She's lyin'!" Thénardier shouted, standing up. Enjolras noticed Éponine flinch on the stand. "I didn' do none o' tha'!"

"Mr. Thénardier, let your daughter finish the rest of her testimony uninterrupted," the judge said firmly. "Go on, Ms. Thénardier."

"Once Gavroche, the first of my brothers, got older, Papa trained him to do the same," she continued. "He made us go out into town every day and pick as many pockets as we could. Even as we got older, the rich wouldn't take note of us the way they would a grown man. We'd get beaten if we didn't come home with enough money each day; we'd stay out until dark or after to get enough to feed all of us. Gav and the twins took up that work once Azelma and I were too tall. But when she and I were...developed...he - "

"Ye shut yer damn mouth, ya hussy!" her father shouted again; this time she did wince. "I'll kill ya!"

"Mr. Thénardier!" the judge barked, standing up.

At that moment, the doors to the courtroom burst open, and gunfire rang loudly through the large, open space. Immediately, the courtroom was thrown into chaos – everyone ducked for cover or ran to an exit, women screamed, and the judge scrambled to get down from the bench and through the door behind him. Enjolras immediately dropped to his knees before searching for Éponine. He could see her kneeling next to the stand, sobbing in terror. He wondered for a moment if she'd gotten a glimpse of the gunman, but pushed his wondering aside. "Éponine!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, making his way to her as quickly as he could.

"It's Montparnasse!" she screamed over the bedlam. "He's the one with the gun! My father's gang is here to bust him out of court!"

His stomach dropped. Great. There are more of them. "Did they know you'd be testifying today?" he shouted as more shots were fired.

"No!"

A court reporter dashed past them, and Enjolras made sure to put himself between Éponine and the pounding herd of feet rushing by. "Come on, we've got to get you out of here," he said, pulling her to her feet. He turned in time just to see the mad gunman – Montparnasse, Éponine had said was his name – heading their way. Enjolras felt sick when he saw that two more men carrying clubs flanked him. Éponine recognized them as Brujon and Babet, and she nearly fainted from fear.

"Now, Éponine!" Enjolras shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the door behind the judge's bench. "Get out of here while you still can! Go, I'll follow you!"

"You backstabbing little bitch!" the first man shouted. Éponine stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Montparnasse. She seemed to be frozen, rooted to the spot in her fear. Enjolras' eyes darted back and forth between the two of them like he was watching a high-speed tennis match, his heart pounding.

"Give that stool pigeon the kiss off, 'Parnasse," the larger of the cronies - Brujon - growled behind the gunman.

Montparnasse pointed the gun straight at Éponine.

He fired.

"NO!" Enjolras yelled.

He was just too late to take the bullet for her. It grazed his arm before going past him to hit Éponine squarely in the shoulder. She screamed in pain, almost doubling over and clutching her wound. Without thinking, he scooped her up into his arms and kicked open the door, taking just enough time to slam it behind them. He took off running down the long, straight hall, before kicking open the other door to the judge's chambers.

"Oh…so that's where the door behind the bench goes," he muttered.

"What the hell is going on here?!" the judge shouted.

"Your Honor, she's been shot," Enjolras said immediately, carefully setting Éponine down to where she could lean on the desk. "We need to call an ambulance immediately."

The judge's eyes widened at the turn of events. Without another word, he grabbed the phone on his desk and started dialing. Enjolras turned back to Éponine. "Now, let me see it," he said gently.

She didn't realize that she still had a death grip on her own shoulder until her hand slowly peeled away bright red. There was blood all over her shoulder, upper chest, and side, some of her long hair sticking to the wound by consequence. Enjolras brushed it aside as carefully as he could, his fingers skimming gently over her angry lesion for any hint of metal. He prayed to God that the bullet wasn't already too deep to be removed. She winced a little at his touch, but didn't shy away.

"It hurts, Enjolras…" she whimpered softly. "It hurts so much…"

Enjolras almost felt like someone was stabbing him when he heard her whispering in so much pain. On impulse, he reached up and yanked off his tie, undoing the knots as quickly as possible. "I know, Éponine," he whispered, bandaging her injury as best he could. "I know. It's going to be alright; trust me."

"The ambulance should be here any minute," the judge said as he hung up the phone as Enjolras wound his tie around her shoulder. "Can we move her down to the main lobby?"

Enjolras looked at her as he carefully finished binding it up. "Do you want to risk going down there?"

"Montparnasse will likely be able to follow you here if you don't," she said firmly. "We'd be better off going."

He nodded. "Alright then, come on."

The two men carefully shielded Éponine as they made their way to the lobby as quickly as possible. She was able to keep up with them just fine, but keeping her out of pain proved to be an issue. If her arm moved the wrong way, she doubled over with pain. "Come on, Éponine," he said softly. "We're almost there."

They arrived at the lobby just as the ambulance did, much to Enjolras' relief. With a nod of thanks to the judge, who hurried off to deal with everything else going on inside, Enjolras scooped Éponine into his arms, handing her off to the nurse on board. "She's been shot in the shoulder," he said. "I don't know how deep the bullet is."

"We'll take care of her, thank you," the woman said earnestly, gently setting Éponine down on the tiny stretcher.

"W-wait – are you leaving, Enjolras?" she asked shakily. He noticed her hair was sticking to her face with sweat, and she looked genuinely upset at the thought that she would have to endure the ride to the hospital without him. She looked to the nurse and asked, "Can he come with us?"

"Is he family?"

Just as Enjolras was about to deny it, Éponine beat him to the draw. "He's my fiancé."

"Then of course he can," she said gently, closing the doors.

Somehow, Enjolras managed to remain calm as he took a seat next to Éponine on the ambulance. Inside, his head was exploding. Why had she claimed that he was her fiancé? What had happened to the angry Éponine that had told him in the office, "It ends here"? What had changed to make her want him to stay?

She got shot, you idiot. And you helped her. That's what changed.

"Enjolras, you're bleeding," she said quietly, pointing to his arm. He looked down, following her gaze, and noticed a thin cut on his upper arm, in addition to the rest of the blood staining his suit. The nurse had heard, and quickly patched him up. He looked himself over as the ambulance drove to the hospital - there was blood on his hands, on his arms, on his shirt...Éponine's blood. He wanted to throttle Montparnasse himself for shooting her, but forced himself to calm down. Now was not the time.

"You're going to be okay, 'Ponine," he murmured quietly, stroking her wet hair back from her forehead. As calm as he acted, he was terrified. What if her injury got infected and she died? He didn't want do think about what he'd do if her life ended.

Then stop thinking like that, he told himself.

What happened after their arrival at the hospital would become a blur in Enjolras' memory. He remembered helping the nurses get Éponine through the doors, signing in at a desk, and endless hours of waiting. Sometimes he paced the floor, other times he prayed, still others he read from the small copy of Søren Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling that he kept in the pocket of his suit jacket. An appropriate title for this scenario, he thought dryly to himself. He flipped a few pages, opening up to the middle of the Problemata section.

Faith is therefore no aesthetic emotion, but something far higher, exactly because it presupposes resignation; it is not the immediate inclination of the heart but the paradox of existence. Thus that a young girl in the face of all difficulties rests assured that her desire will be fulfilled in no way means that her certainty is that of faith, even if she has been brought up by Christian parents and perhaps gone for a whole year to the pastor. She is convinced in all her childlike simplicity and innocence. This assurance too ennobles her nature and gives her a preternatural dimension, so that like a worker of wonders she can charm the finite powers of existence and make even stones weep, while on the other hand in her distraction she can just as well run to Herod as to Pilate and move the whole world with her pleas. Her conviction is ever so lovable, and one can learn much from her, but one thing one does not learn from her, how to make movements. Her certainty does not dare look the impossibility in the eye in the pain of resignation.

He sighed to himself. He should have known that existential philosophy was not the best place to look for comfort in times of trial. He leafed through the rest of the small volume, hardly reading the words on the page, trying not to think about her, to no avail. More than anything, his brain burned to know why Montparnasse was so desperate to keep Éponine silent. Obviously, there were criminal charges he wanted to avoid, but what other reason could he have? He must have had a reason to aim straight for her...

Or...what if it had nothing at all to do with her father?

"Mr. Enjolras?" a woman's voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

He looked up at a nurse as he put his book away, walking quickly to her. "Yes? How's Éponine?"

"She's stable and doing fine," the nurse said calmly. "The doctor was able to remove the bullet and thoroughly clean the wound. He expects that she'll fully recover, and quickly."

He was visibly relieved. "Thank God. Can I see her?"

"That was her request also, actually," the nurse chuckled. "Follow me; I'll take you to her."

Enjolras followed the nurse up a few flights of stairs and through several different wards before they finally got to Éponine. She was lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling and drumming her fingers almost boredly on the thin sheets. He noticed that her shoulder was very tightly bound, and the cloth was only slightly red. She smiled when she saw Enjolras come in through the door, and he couldn't help but smile as he crossed the room towards her. "How are you feeling?" he murmured gently, sitting next to her bed and taking her hand. He hadn't forgotten to play the part of fiancé.

"Fine," she said with a nod. "My shoulder's pretty numb, but at least it doesn't hurt anymore."

He smiled a little. "I'm glad." He turned to the nurse. "How much longer will she need to stay here?"

"Only a couple of days, to ensure that the wound doesn't get infected," the nurse said. "The doctors sterilized it as soon as we brought her in, but they don't want to take any risks."

Enjolras nodded in understanding. "Fantastic. I'm glad to hear it."

After the nurse left the room, Éponine spoke.

"You tried to take 'Parnasse's bullet for me in the courtroom."

Enjolras sighed quietly. "Yes."

"But…why?"

He groaned to himself and rubbed his eyes; he'd been hoping to avoid this discussion for at least a little while longer. "It's…very difficult to explain, Éponine."

"What's so difficult about it?" she snapped. He was surprised at her sudden feistiness, even though he knew he should have seen it coming. "You either care about me, or you don't, and I'm not going to continue this ruse if you don't care. So which is it?"

They glared at each other for a moment, neither one knowing what to say. Enjolras didn't know if he wanted to kiss her because she was alive, or kick her because she was so damn stubborn. "I don't know," he said through clenched teeth. "You're not the only enigma in my life right now, Éponine. There's a lot that I still have to figure out." Éponine paused before she answered him.

"Then let me help you," she whispered.

He clenched his jaw. "Why?" he half-growled.

"Because I want to," she said stubbornly, sitting up in bed. "And because…I like to think you'd do the same for me. Or that you would have; I don't blame you if you don't after our last…discussion," she said gingerly, trailing off awkwardly when she finished.

Enjolras sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Éponine…" he sighed heavily. "I still don't know how I feel, and I'm not ready to discuss it. Okay?"

Her face fell, and she looked away, and he was somewhat upset that he had hurt her. "Alright," she murmured. "I won't push you."

"Thank you."

Despite his better judgment, Enjolras spent the night in a chair next to Éponine's hospital bed, his head tilted back and his hands folded over his stomach, still in his bloody suit. Éponine fell asleep not long after their talk, and Enjolras debated for a while on whether or not to stay. As soon as he decided to settle in for the night, he heard the door creaking open. He sat up, expecting a nurse, but when he made eye contact with the young woman that came through the door, he knew she was not.

She looked to be a little younger than Éponine, and she wore an old dress that looked like it needed a cleaning. Enjolras noticed immediately how thin she was; she was almost a sack of skin and bones. Her long, curly hair came down around her shoulders, and she was wringing her thin hands as she slowly crossed the room to them.

"You must be the lawyer she talked about," the girl murmured quietly.

Enjolras frowned. "Pardon?"

"Oh, forgive me; I've forgotten my manners. I'm Azelma. Éponine's sister," she said. "She talked about you when we last saw each other a few days ago."

He suddenly felt guilty for rejecting Éponine all over again, and had to avoid her gaze. "So I take it you're angry with me, too?" he asked quietly.

The girl – Azelma – studied him briefly. For that brief moment she looked exactly like Éponine, and he would have mistaken her if the latter hadn't been in the hospital bed between them. "No," she answered quietly.

Enjolras looked back up at her, more than a little surprised. "No?"

"No," she repeated simply, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm just worried about my sister." Azelma paused. "When I heard there was a shooting at the courthouse today…I was mostly frightened because I knew who did it. I didn't know Éponine would be testifying. When 'Parnasse came back home and was complaining that he'd hit her but didn't kill her, I slipped out the back and came straight here to see her." She looked up at him. "Were you…there?"

He nodded. "I'm one of the prosecutors. It's technically my father's case, but he's letting me get some experience in the courtroom under his guidance. He had me questioning Éponine when Montparnasse burst in." He looked down, placing his big hand on top of his "fiancée's" cold one, stroking the bony back of it. "I tried to take the bullet for her, but I was a split second too slow."

Azelma's eyes widened, and she looked down at his suit, still covered in blood. "Why?" she asked.

"That's what I'm still trying to figure out," he said with a humorless chuckle. "Ever since she came into the office and told me the truth, I've been angry at everyone and everything, including her – especially her." He sighed heavily. "But today…I knew I had to dash over to the other side of the courtroom and protect her."

"You didn't just do that," Azelma said quietly, looking him in the eyes. "You saved her life."

He smiled a little. "I suppose I did."

Azelma moved to sit closer to the sleeping Éponine and took her hand gently. "You remember the games we used to play around the inn when we were kids, 'Ponine?" she murmured softly, tucking her sister's hair back. "We would take turns being the hero, running around to faraway places, always saving the world…and when Gav was born, we always made him the damsel in distress," she laughed. Enjolras smiled to himself, getting the feeling that she was talking more to Éponine than him. But he was alright with it – he could hear about another side of her that he'd never gotten the chance to know before.

So he sat back and relaxed, listening to Azelma talking to her sister about their life as children – their games around the inn, learning to pickpocket, their first escapades with Patron-Minette, the way they had dreamed of a better life after their father got arrested the first time, and tried to shield Gav from their father and his gang. Occasionally he laughed with Azelma at her stories; occasionally he had to hold in a heartbroken sigh. The young woman's wild stories and quiet voice soon lulled him like a lullaby, and before he knew it he was sound asleep, dreaming of faraway places and lost childhood adventures.

A/N: Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Gav or the rest of the Amis! Hope you liked this chapter :) Please review, and feel free to (NICELY) leave your opinion on the Helsa ship!