A/N: Hello, my faithful readers!

This is MaryEvH, coming to you from the lovely country of Belgium! I've already been here for almost a week, and I absolutely love it here. If you ever get a chance to come here, definitely go! This country is so beautiful, and the people are so nice. And definitely spend at least one day in Brugge!

But enough about me - here's your next chapter! You know the drill - read, review, and most of all, enjoy!

Azelma nearly panicked when she woke up the next morning.

When her eyes slowly opened, she was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar apartment. She recognized nothing in the room as she looked around, and her panic started steadily growing. In her fear, she started scrambling to get out of bed, not realizing a corner of the sheet was wrapped around her ankle. With a shriek, she fell onto the floor.

She heard quick pounding footsteps, and the door burst open to a young man wearing a long nightshirt and had wild black hair. When he saw the confused young woman in front of him, he relaxed with a heavy sigh. "God, you gave me a scare," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"I gave you a scare?" she shrieked, making him cringe. "Where the hell am I?!"

"Azelma, calm down," he said gently. "Remember me? I'm Grantaire, and you're in my apartment. I brought you here last night after we got you from your aunt's house on Manhattan Island."

The events of the previous night suddenly flashed through her mind, and she remembered this kind, dark-haired young man that had offered her food and lodging with him. She relaxed, pulling her ankle out of the sheet. "Right, of course. I just – I didn't remember when I woke up…" she said.

The young man – Grantaire – nodded kindly. "It's alright, I understand," he said gently.

Azelma looked down shyly, unable to maintain eye contact with him. "Sorry I scared you," she chuckled nervously.

Grantaire just smiled kindly at her. "No need for that," he said gently, offering her a hand. Azelma could barely contain a blush as she took his outstretched hand, and he helped her to her feet. "Now, would you like some breakfast?" he asked, gesturing up the hall to the front of his apartment.

"Please God, yes."

Éponine, on the other hand, was a little less confused than her younger sister when she woke up the next morning. Her back was sore from a night sleeping on Enjolras' couch, but she smiled when she remembered where she was. She stretched her arms out over her head, yawning heavily as she stood up, wandering over to the kitchen to start the coffee. She rubbed her eyes, preparing the machine, when two strong arms snaked around her waist and pulled her close to an equally strong torso.

"Good morning, my dear," Enjolras murmured, kissing her temple. Éponine couldn't help but smile as she relaxed back into his embrace, letting her hands run over his arms. He made her so, so happy. He made her happier than she'd ever been in her life.

"Mmh, good morning dear," she smiled, turning around to gently kiss his lips. "Sleep well?"

"Quite well, actually," he remarked as she turned around in his arms for him to hug her properly. Enjolras allowed himself to close his eyes and rest his cheek on her hair as he hugged the woman he loved, gently rubbing her back. "Better than I expected."

Éponine nodded. "Me too. Especially since I know Azelma's in a safer place now." Enjolras bristled again, but said nothing. "What?" she asked, frowning at him. "Do you not trust Grantaire to take care of her?"

He sighed quietly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew Éponine was likely to disagree with him on this. "I do worry about his responsibility, yes…mostly the lack thereof that he's proven to us for most of his adult life, what with his drinking problem." He paused. "But…I hope that he'll rise to the occasion and do what he needs to do to keep her safe."

A bit to his surprise, Éponine nodded a little. "I wasn't really expecting him to step up and offer to keep her, really," she said. "You've never spoken so highly of him."

"True," Enjolras remarked with a slight nod as she poured two mugs of coffee. "But that's because I've never had reason to. I pitied him when his father died while we were in law school, because we were still rather young, and Grantaire was very close to him. But when he started using as an excuse to drink his sorrows away, I stopped. He was in a mess of his own making by then," he finished, nodding his thanks as she handed him one cup.

"How old was his father when he passed?" she asked curiously, taking a small sip.

"Only 56."

Éponine cringed a little. "Very young."

Enjolras nodded. "It's been five years. Grantaire was only 25; he and I both turn 30 this year."

She sighed softly in pity. "Poor Grantaire. That must have been hard on him." She paused. "Perhaps the fact that he did step up is a sign. And maybe Azelma can help him. She almost got our father to stop drinking for an entire month once, not long after Mama died," she chuckled.

He grinned, hugging her again. "I suppose we'll have to see."

After enjoying breakfast and a few cups of coffee together, Éponine decided to make a grocery store run with Enjolras. "If I'm going to be living with you, I'm going to help with the food," she laughed. She was perfectly comfortable walking around the grocery store with him, letting him put his arm around her waist, place the occasional discreet kiss on her temple when no one else was looking. Éponine was floating on a cloud, and she didn't want to come down.

But her departure from her bliss was abrupt when she spotted Babet and Claquesous down the next aisle.

She froze, catching the handle of the cart in a death grip. No. They couldn't be here. Not right now. Not while everything was finally going so well for her…

"Éponine?" Enjolras murmured in her ear, clearly concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"Those two men, down the next aisle," she hissed. "They're in my father's gang."

Enjolras' heart nearly stopped. He risked a brief glance at the men, and recognized one of them from the shooting at the courthouse. He clenched his fists at his side, trying to think about anything but punching them both in their filthy faces. "What do you want to do?" he murmured in her ear, trying to stay calm. "We can't let them see you."

"Yeah, no shit," she muttered, already shrinking behind him. "You should probably stay out of sight, too. Babet will recognize you from the courtroom."

At that moment, Claquesous' head turned.

Éponine's own heart nearly stopped. She grabbed Enjolras' arm, pulling him back into the aisle where they were standing.

"Babet, meat freezer's this way," he grunted, before the two men walked past them without even a glance. The two relaxed slightly, before the crony spoke again, picking up a package of ground beef. "Say, you think this one looks a bit like tha' bloke the boss knocked off last week?"

They both laughed as Éponine cringed and Enjolras tried not to vomit. These two were absolutely sick. How could they joke so casually about murder? In public, no less?

"Nah, that one's gonna be Azelma when 'e gets a hold of 'er," Babet retorted with a broad grin. "That little shit may never see the light o' day again. You remember 'ow mad the boss was when he found out she ran off. Didn't talk to 'Parnasse for almost a week."

Claquesous nodded. "Now as for 'Ponine…"

Enjolras' grip on her waist tightened, and he felt her shaking against him. All he wanted was to race over there and punch them both to bloody pulps, but he stayed where he was, for her.

"If the boss ever gets 'is 'ands on 'er…" he clucked his tongue. "I pity the poor little wench. An' 'er bastard lawyer of a boyfriend."

"Whaddya think 'e'll do to 'er?" Babet asked.

"If 'e don't kill 'er first…'e'd kill the boyfriend in front of 'er, let us all 'ave another go with 'er in the back room, an' then kill 'er," Claquesous answered casually. "At least, tha's wha' I think."

They finally walked away, and their sick conversation faded into the background of the grocery store noise. Éponine was still shaking, and Enjolras heard her tiny sobs against his chest. He squeezed her tightly against him, gently stroking her hair and shushing her quietly. "Those filthy bastards are never going to get their hands on you as long as I'm alive," Enjolras growled, his blood still boiling at what they'd heard.

"But…what about you?" she whispered, wiping her eyes. "You heard what they said…"

He chuckled in spite of himself. "Don't worry about me," he said. "Worry about those two when I get my hands on them."

"Don't," she said firmly. "They're not worth it, and I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not leaving you, Éponine," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "Ever. That's a promise."

Grantaire still wasn't entirely sure what he'd gotten himself into.

Aside from her miniature panic attack that morning, Azelma had so far been very easy to have in the apartment, mostly because he hardly heard a peep from her room. Their interaction had been very minimal thus far – after a fairly quiet breakfast, she had gone straight back to her room, closed the door, and not made another sound. He knocked on the door to let her know when he was going to the store, and when he got back. He sighed to himself, running a hand over his face. What the hell am I doing?

On a whim, he got up from his desk where he was going over some papers and quietly knocked on the girl's door. "Azelma?" he called softly. "Are you in there?"

"Come in," he heard timidly from the other side of the door.

When Grantaire opened the door, he was surprised to see her sitting on the bed, an open collection of Shakespeare on her lap. She looked haggard, tired...worn down. "Are you alright?" He asked again, sitting down to face her on the foot of the bed. "I haven't heard you make a sound hardly all day," he said.

She nodded, rubbing her eyes. "I'm fine, thank you. It's just..."

Grantaire frowned. "Just what?"

"I still worry that Montparnasse will find me here...and I don't know what he'd do to me; he'd be so angry...and then you and your friends would be in harm's way, too...and my sister..."

"Your sister is perfectly safe with Enjolras," Grantaire assured her, "and you're perfectly safe with me, I promise." He nodded down to the Shakespeare; "Does it help?"

Azelma nodded, returning her eyes to the page. "It takes my mind off things. Well...usually it does."

He scooted around to her other side to see what she was reading. "Ah, Twelfth Night. A classic."

"It's my favorite," she added, smiling a little. He couldn't help but notice that her eyes lit up a little more when she smiled. Grantaire was glad that he could help distract her from her problems, at least for a little while. She did seem to be a very sweet girl, much like her older sister. One that didn't deserve such a shit father and a lifetime of abuse.

"Azelma..." Grantaire began slowly.

"Yes?"

He paused. How to pose the question. "Forgive me for asking, but...why Montparnasse? He's never seemed like the nicest of guys from my interactions with him..."

She sighed, running a hand over her long hair. "Do you want the short answer or the long answer?"

"The long one, by all means."

"That requires some backstory." Grantaire gestured for her to continue, and she nodded. "Well, I've almost idolized Éponine my entire life. She left home when she was 20 to get a clean job and try to stay out of Papa's gang. I was 18, Gavroche was 10 and the twins were 9. None of us really understood why she'd left. Well, she and Montparnasse had been an item before she left home. When she was gone..."

"...he turned his affections to you?"

"I was 18, and didn't have any experience with boys. I never really went out, and I'd never actually dated. I didn't know what I was getting myself into...until..."

"...Until?"

Azelma bit her lip. "One night, not long before my 19th birthday...he, er...came into my room during the night...and...I woke up at the pain..."

Grantaire put a hand on her arm to stop her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. He didn't show it - Grantaire was always good at hiding his emotions - but his blood was boiling at the thought of a teenage Azelma being violated by that bastard.

She wiped her eyes hastily, clearly trying not to cry. "I was stupid, and I still stayed with him. I thought to myself, 'If he does this when he says he loves me...'"

"...you wondered how much worse it would get if you left," Grantaire finished.

She nodded. "Exactly. Ever since then...I've always been afraid of men. For God's sake, I'm 26 years old, and I can hardly look a man in the eye. much less think about getting married, ever having a family of my own..." The dam finally broke, and Azelma began to cry, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in them. Twelfth Night sat open in front of them on the bed, long forgotten.

Grantaire was taken aback at the sudden burst of emotion. He'd been trying to help, not... this..."Please don't cry," he pleaded under his breath. Gingerly, he put a hand on her shoulder. That's what people did when they comforted others, wasn't it? He really wasn't very good at this; it wasn't often that he had a crying woman on his hands.

However, she leaned into the gesture, resting her head against his shoulder as she sniffled. Gently, he let his arm wrap around her shoulders as he shushed her quietly. "It's going to be alright," he murmured. "I promise." That was a good thing to say, wasn't it?

"I'm just scared of what's going to happen..." She whimpered.

"Don't be," Grantaire said firmly. "You have no need to be afraid when you're with me."

She looked up from his shoulder with a small smile, wiping her puffy eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Grantaire."

He laughed. "None of that mess, Miss Azelma. Just call me Grantaire. Better yet, call me Alan."

Her smile grew. "Alright, Alan. It's a deal."

"But you hate your first name!" Courfeyrac blurted out.

Grantaire could only shrug. "Not when she says it, for some reason."

"Has she actually called you Alan yet, or are you just saying that to get us off your back?" Combeferre asked dryly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"She has, thank you very much," Grantaire replied. "More than once, believe it or not."

"I'll believe it when I hear it," Joly answered.

Enjolras sat between Combeferre and Courfeyrac, absorbing the conversation but saying nothing. He drank his coffee as he remembered the situation in the grocery store earlier that day, when he was with Éponine. The look of fear in her eyes when she spotted her father's thugs across the aisle was something Enjolras had never wanted to see while she was under his protection. Had he failed her somehow? Even though nothing bad had happened, there was always the potential for something to go horribly wrong...what if he wasn't there to defend her when something did happen?

"You're awfully quiet, Enjolras," Grantaire remarked from the other side of the table. "Is something wrong?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine," Enjolras said distantly, taking another drink of his coffee. "Just a little tired, that's all."

"Mademoiselle Éponine wearing you out, is she?" Joly asked with a raised eyebrow.

He barely kept a faint blush from creeping into his cheeks. "No!" He shouted.

"Oh, so you can keep up with her?" Courfeyrac winked.

"No, I'm not sleeping with her!" Enjolras insisted.

The boys laughed in unison. "Your girlfriend is sleeping at your place, and you're -not- leaping on the opportunity to sleep with her?" Grantaire asked in fake shock, clucking his tongue.

"No, I'm not. Because unlike you, Alan, I'm a gentleman," Enjolras retorted with a wide grin.

"Our leader has a point," Joly added. "You've got a pretty dame staying with you, and we haven't seen you leaping on the opportunity, Alan."

"Unless there's something you haven't told us, Alan," Combeferre said, barely concealing his own broad grin.

"Wha - no, Azelma's not my girlfriend!" Grantaire spluttered.

"Are you sure?" Enjolras asked, pausing briefly. "Alan?"

Grantaire was at a complete loss for words. He tried to stammer a clever response, but nothing came out except nonsense syllables. "I am agog, I am aghast!" Joly cried over dramatically. "Is Grantaire in love at last?"

"No, I'm not love - I mean, I'm not in love!" Grantaire half-shouted.

"Who's not in love with whom?" A female voice asked cooly from behind them.

Dead silence fell over the assembled men, shock plastered on their faces. Éponine looked over each of them once, waiting for an answer to her question. "What?" She asked. Right on cue, they all burst out laughing - all except Grantaire, who was turning an impressive shade of red and sinking into his chair like a small child. "Aww, are they picking on you, Grantaire?" She cooed in mock sympathy, taking her seat next to Enjolras. He put an arm around her shoulders, discreetly kissing her temple.

"Oh no, his name is Alan," Courfeyrac quickly mocked.

Éponine raised an eyebrow. "Alan, eh? Where'd that come from?"

"Nowhere!" Grantaire said quickly, as Combeferre dragged out, "Azelma!"

Her eyebrow rose further. "Oh, really?" She grinned. "What's going on between Alan here and my sister?"

"That's just the thing," Enjolras filled her in. "He won't tell us." Éponine started to ponder as Joly leapt up, "Who wants coffee?"

"Yes, please!" Grantaire exclaimed as he started to stand.

Éponine placed a hand on his, stopping him. "Actually, Grantaire, can I talk to you for a minute?"

His heart nearly stopped. Oh God. She wants to talk to me. This can't be good. This isn't good at all...

"We'll just, uh...leave you two for a bit, shall we?" Courfeyrac said awkwardly as the rest of the boys hurriedly made their way to the counter.

"Do you plan on threatening him or something?" Enjolras murmured in her ear. She chuckled. "Go," she laughed, gently pushing him away.

Éponine and Grantaire sat in silence for a moment, neither of them really knowing how or where to start. She bit her lower lip, pondering what she wanted to say. "Grantaire..." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I don't know how much she's told you, but my sister's past isn't..." She sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that the alcohol - "

"Éponine, I haven't been remotely tempted to pick up a bottle of wine for the last two days," he said. "Normally, if I hadn't been drinking, I wouldn't be here. I'd be at home, getting drunk," he half-snorted. "What I'm trying to say is...there's something flat-out magical about your sister. She's given me something to care about, and I haven't had that since my father died and I got myself into this mess." As if he'd suddenly realized how much he'd said, he looked down awkwardly, fiddling with the cutlery.

Éponine eyed him carefully. She was certainly surprised that he had opened up to her so quickly, and she was especially surprised at what he'd said. "Are you...saying what I think you're saying?" She asked slowly.

He sighed. "I think I'm in love with your sister, Ép. But please don't tell the boys; I'd never hear the end of it," he begged.

Éponine smiled, putting her hand on top of his. "Your secret's safe with me," she assured him.

He twirled the shot glass of whiskey between his right thumb and index finger, his mind far away as he took a sip. Richard Enjolras, Sr. figured his son would be putting him on trial for the Fantine case. It was all too obvious, what with the fact that they hadn't spoken in days. Richard hadn't even come to Mass.

As he put the glass away under his desk, he remembered what Richard had said a few weeks before about his new girlfriend - "We'll talk about this after you close the Thénardier trial. Not before." He was still annoyed every time he thought about the little...interruption in court that day. He had managed to get out unscathed, but of course, his son had stayed behind to help that whore on the stand when she got shot. Had he just let her bleed out none of this would be happening...

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "What?" He snapped.

"Important file from the judge, sir," his secretary's voice sounded from the other side. "He demands you see it immediately."

Richard sighed in irritation. "Alright, come in." The door opened just long enough for Colette to drop the file onto his open palm. He opened it as the door shut behind her, scanning the page.

The criminal trial for
AUGUSTE R. THÉNARDIER
will continue on
MONDAY, 29 JUNE, 1931
At 1:00 in the afternoon

Signed:
Honorable James Roberts

He gently set the memo down on his desk. Finally, this trial was going to end, and he could redeem his damn foolish son.

A/N: Dun dun DUUUUUUNN! Hope you liked it!