A/N: Again, I'M NOT DEAD! SORRY this took so long! My life has gotten kinda crazy, and I just got through with midterms, so I've hardly had time to write. I'm home for Fall Break right now, so here's another chapter for you guys! Enjoy!
Her face went stark white as she stared in fear at the door. "Éponine, do you know who it is?" Enjolras asked urgently.
"I think it's Brujon and Babet," she answered, her voice shaking as much as her hands. "The voice is definitely Brujon. He typically takes Babet with him whenever he has to…"
The pounding on the door resumed, making her flinch. "ÉPONINE! OPEN THE DOOR, YOU LITTLE BITCH!"
"Whenever he has to what, Éponine?" Enjolras whispered.
She bit her lip. "Kill someone."
Enjolras' stomach dropped. Her own father meant to kill her. "Éponine, listen to me," he said, clutching her shoulders and standing between her and the door. "As long as I'm breathing, I will not let them touch you. You're going to be alright, I promise you. Okay?" Éponine nodded, clearly holding back tears, and Enjolras kissed her forehead reassuringly. "Should I open the door?"
"Let me get out of sight first," she answered, stumbling out of the room before she even finished her sentence. Enjolras waited for her to nod as she slipped into the dark bedroom before he slowly unlocked and opened the door. He did his best to look confused when he saw the strangers on his doorstep.
"Gentlemen, what can I do for you?" he asked as politely as he could. All he really wanted was to beat them to a pulp, but he forced himself to resist. For Éponine's sake.
"Cut the crap, pretty boy, we know she's 'ere," Babet snapped.
"What's it to you?" Enjolras asked testily. "You're not going to get her back as long as I'm alive."
Brujon chuckled. "We can take care o' tha' just as easy. But if ya give 'er to us, everybody lives."
Enjolras grit his teeth. "You're not going anywhere near her."
"Yes we are," Babet snapped, as he and Brujon simultaneously pushed past Enjolras into the living room. "Search the place, Brujon."
Enjolras tried to look calm, even though his heart was pounding. Éponine, stay out of sight…just do something, he pleaded, almost hoping she would be able to hear his thoughts. "You won't find her, she's not here," he said a little louder than he needed to. Hopefully, that would do the trick and let Éponine know they were looking.
Babet laughed, and the sound chilled Enjolras to the bone. "Why do I get the feelin' yer lyin' ta me?" he asked coldly.
Enjolras tried not to look back at the bedroom, knowing that would give her away. "I'm not," he said coolly. "She's not here. And if you were smart enough to believe me, you'd scamper back to your boss and tell him his daughter's not coming back."
Éponine could hear everything from the bedroom, and it was hard for her to breathe quietly, with all the fear inside her. She could see Brujon's massive frame go past the door a few times, and she tried not to shake with fear. They're going to come in here eventually…they're going to find me…oh God, what's going to happen?
Calm down, 'Ponine! Go out to the fire escape; Brujon and Babet are both too dumb to look there. Just long enough for them to go away, and then you can run back to Enjolras…
Gradually, she calmed down enough to walk over to the window. Just long enough for them to go away…she reassured herself, repeating it over and over like a mantra. Just long enough for them to go away…
She raised her shaking hands to the latch, trying to breathe deeply and calm down, to no avail. Just long enough for them to go away…
CRASH!
Éponine had failed to notice the lamp next to the window until her shaking hand had knocked it down. Her heart dropped into her stomach. They would know right where she was now.
"Brujon! Bedroom!" She heard Babet shout.
The lights came on, and she could see their faces – greedy, angry, and ready to kill her.
She screamed.
"ÉPONINE!"
Barely seconds later, Enjolras was in the room as well. He pulled a small pistol from his jacket and firmly pressed it against the back of Babet's head. "Don't take another step, or I pull this trigger," he hissed, cocking the gun and keeping a hold on Babet's shoulder to keep his head against the gun. "Either of you. Move towards her, and you die."
Éponine was plastered into the corner next to the window, shaking like a leaf and trying not to cry. Brujon chuckled evilly as he looked at Enjolras. "What, you don't have the balls to kill me?" he taunted. "What are you, Mr. Enjolras? Just another rich pretty boy who can talk big and never do anything he says he can?"
Enjolras roared in anger, half-throwing Babet into Brujon's massive chest. The two of them tumbled to the ground, and Enjolras immediately took advantage of he situation. He leaped on top of the two of them, pressing his knees into Babet's back, and firmly held the gun to the place where their skulls met. "Get. Out," he hissed. "And don't try to come back."
The air was thick with tension, before Brujon's muffled voice sounded from the ground. "Let's go, Babet," he grunted. "This lil' whore ain' worth the trouble."
Babet made a face, and almost protested, before he thought better of it. Enjolras stood up, still pointing the gun. They finally walked out of the room; Enjolras followed them, keeping the gun pressed to Babet's head until they were over the threshold. He promptly slammed the door behind them, bolting it and bringing the chain across.
He heard sobbing from the bedroom, and raced back to where he knew Éponine was. She was wailing by the time he made it to her, pulling her trembling form against his solid one. "Shh, shh, it's alright," he whispered, petting her hair. "Shh, don't cry; I'm right here…you're fine, you're alright," he murmured, intermittently kissing her brow as he whispered sweet nonsense in her ear. "It's fine; they're gone. I love you; everything's okay."
Finally, her sobs turned to ragged breaths and she was able to relax. Enjolras pulled back a little and squatted in front of her. "What were you trying to do at the window?" he asked gently.
Éponine took a moment to finish composing herself, still gasping for breath. "I…I was trying t-to make it out to th-the f-fire escape…I-I thought if I could h-hide out l-long enough…th-they wouldn't l-look here and…th-they'd leave…" She hastily wiped her cheeks before she could continue speaking. "When Papa would have me out on the corner…i-it was often Brujon and Babet…they would…" Unable to continue or contain herself any longer, she broke down into fresh tears, burying her face into his chest.
Enjolras sighed sympathetically, pulling her closer to him and squeezing her a little tighter to his chest. "Oh, 'Ponine…" he whispered, kissing her head. "I'm so sorry…I had no idea." His right hand was repeatedly stroking her hair; his left arm was locked tightly around her waist and pressing her to him. "I've said it before, I'll say it again – they're never going to touch you as long as I'm alive. So help me God, I will not let anything happen to you as long as I can help it."
"Thank you, thank you," she breathed, nodding and wiping her eyes. "I know you will always be there for me." Her voice was ragged still as she let out her sentence in shallow breaths. "…but don't do it like that again."
He frowned. "Like what?"
"That was frightening, Enj…I don't like seeing you so angry. The way you could have killed them both with one bullet…I don't want to think about you killing the way they do…and I'm afraid that I might do something wrong, and then you'd be mad at me…"
Horror filled him when he realized how badly he scared her. He was sinking down to Thénardier's level without even realizing it. "'Ponine, you have to understand, I would never break the law unless we were in a life or death situation, or if you were in danger. And most importantly," he said, cradling her face in his hands, "I would never, ever, lay a hand on you that way. You know that, right?" he asked in a small voice.
"I know, I know you'd never…" she trailed off, suppressing a hiccup and not wanting to finish the thought. "I'm just scared. I don't want to lose you…this you," she said, placing a hand on his chest.
Enjolras pulled her even closer and held her tightly. "You never will. That's a promise." He found himself repeatedly stroking her hair and rocking her back and forth, pondering everything she'd said. The more he learned about her past, the more determined he was to keep her safe. She was the most important thing in his world now, and he was going to protect her at any cost.
They sat like that for a long time, before Enjolras picked Éponine up and gently putting her in the bed, before he undressed and climbed in beside her. They needed rest. They'd had a long day, and there were more to come.
Morning came all too soon. The sun rose over Enjolras and Éponine sound asleep, his left hand resting comfortably on her left shoulder blade. Enjolras awoke with a peculiar stiffness in his back, before he remembered the events of the previous night.
He sighed softly, remembering that today was the beginning of his father's trial. Jury selection had taken place practically overnight; he could only hope that the case had been kept fairly quiet in the press. Of course, nothing was certain.
Enjolras lay awake in the bed for a few minutes, just breathing next to Éponine. He didn't want to get up; he didn't want to go. He allowed himself a brief moment of self-pity, before he finally took a deep breath and extricated himself from the warm bed and started to get ready for the day. Mechanically, he got a black suit out of the closet, pairing it with a white shirt and black tie. He splashed some cold water on his face to wake up before he got dressed as quietly as he could, trying not to wake Éponine.
As he straightened his tie in the mirror, he took a moment to look at his face. There were dark bags under his eyes, which looked tired and heavy. Small lines were appearing around the corners of his eyes. He was certainly a different man than he had been before this case. Fantine had asked a lot of him, and he hoped that he would be able to accomplish what she needed. Cosette had let him know when Fantine was released from the hospital; apparently she was ready to testify.
He picked up his briefcase, ready to leave for the courthouse, when a voice stopped him at the door.
"Good luck today," Éponine murmured tiredly from the bed.
Enjolras turned around when he heard her speak, and smiled when he saw her looking at him. He crossed the room to her and placed a gentle, chaste kiss on her forehead. "I'll let you know how everything goes," he murmured, stroking her hair back from her face. He couldn't get over how beautiful she looked when she was only half-awake, her hair falling in her face. "I love you."
"I love you too. You're ready for this. Don't forget that."
He smiled gently. "I won't, I promise." He kissed her once, murmuring, "Go back to sleep, love."
"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on coming and getting in a shouting match with your father in public," she yawned, turning over in the bed.
Enjolras chuckled, checking his pocketwatch. "I've got to go, but I'll be home soon. Get some sleep."
As he drove to the courthouse, he could hardly keep his emotions in check. His heart was pounding, his mouth was going dry, his hands were clamming up. However, his subtle blackmail had worked the previous morning. He'd gotten Eric McDonald, who was somewhat inexperienced, but a much more ethical man that Michael Gray. So far, it was Enjolras' one comfort in this case.
He pulled up at the courthouse and turned off his car, straightening his suit as he got out of the car. A surprise was waiting for him as he went up the courthouse steps – Combeferre stood about halfway up the staircase, wearing a suit identical to his and also holding a briefcase. Enjolras frowned; he knew his best friend was up to something. "What are you doing here, 'Ferre?" Enjolras asked, not unkindly, as he approached his friend.
"I know the case is today…" he said a little tentatively. "I figured you could use some help." Enjolras grunted and went to walk past him, but Combeferre stopped him with a hand on his chest. "You shouldn't have to do this alone, Richard," the man said quietly; Enjolras knew he was serious when he called him by his first name. "I want to help you. Please let me."
Enjolras eyed the man in front of him for a moment before nodding slowly. "Alright," he said softly. "I could use the support."
Combeferre noticeably relaxed and nodded, before the two men started walking to the courthouse together. "Have you heard from Fantine?" he asked in a low voice as they waded through the crowd of suits in the huge lobby of the building.
"'Sette called the other day to let me know that she had been released from the hospital," Enjolras said in an equally low tone. "She should ready to testify any day now."
Combeferre raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "'Sette, huh?" He grinned. "You must enjoy having a sister."
Enjolras grinned back. "Every single minute. I always wanted a younger sibling when I was a kid, especially after Mother died…" he trailed off a little, lost in thought. "I guess God decided I wasn't ready for a sibling until now."
The two men then caught sight of Enjolras, Sr., who had entered the room alongside another gentleman in a suit. They assumed he'd found an attorney. Father and son locked eyes, and the tension in the room was instantly palpable. It was as if they were two lions, dueling for dominance of the courtroom. They each gave the other a long fixed stare, as if sizing him up before the impending battle.
Combeferre placed a comforting hand on his best friend's shoulder. "We can do this, Richard," he said softly. "We can take him down."
Enjolras nodded to the man's words without looking at him. "Thank you, John."
He had hardly blinked before they were walking into the preliminary hearing. The purpose of this was for his father to put in a plea, for bail to be set, and for Enjolras to make his opening arguments against his father, which was going to be the hard part. He'd been working on preparing his thoughts for well over three weeks, but now that it was time to deliver them, he was suddenly overcome with nerves and…was that fear he felt?
He must have been shaking, because he noticed Combeferre put a hand on his shoulder again as they entered the courtroom. "It's going to be alright, Richard. You can do this."
Enjolras managed a feeble smile as he set down his briefcase. "It's nice to know someone still has faith in me."
As he spoke, he remembered Éponine saying those same words to him when they ate dinner at his apartment before they went to see the Firebird with his father. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the haunting melody of the Lullaby echoed in his mind. He remembered sitting in the concert hall between Éponine and his father, her excitability at every moment, and the way his father had insulted her at the end of the night. His anger sparked again, he snapped his briefcase open and took out his opening argument papers, reviewing them once more.
"Are you sure you can handle this?" Combeferre asked over his shoulder as he set down a briefcase as well.
Enjolras tried not to snort in his best friend's face. "Am I sure? No way in hell. But can I handle this? I think I can."
They were interrupted by the doors of the courtroom opening, and the entrance of Enjolras, Sr., his attorney, and the judge. "All rise for the Honorable Eric McDonald," the bailiff's commanding voice rang around the courtroom. Enjolras' father and his attorney made their way to their appointed bench as Judge McDonald sat at the front. "Be seated and come to order," the bailiff said as everyone sat.
"At this time, we will hear the opening statements, starting with the defense," Judge McDonald declared from the bench. "Mr. Johnson, you may proceed when you are ready."
His father's attorney stood up from the bench, puffing out his chest a little pompously as he began. "Gentlemen of the jury, we are here to prove that these unjust allegations against my client, Richard Enjolras, Sr., are false in every way. He has always been an upstanding man in our New York community, and at the time of these alleged incidents, he could barely support his own family. His wife had become despondent. Trips to her doctors were costly, and he had his young son to think of – the son prosecuting him today."
Enjolras tried not to bristle as Mr. Johnson paused. "Gentlemen, my client is completely innocent, and you will see that the evidence points to that." He walked back to the bench and sat down next to Enjolras, Sr., still looking rather proud of himself. It made Enjolras' blood boil that he had to go up against that.
"Thank you, Mr. Johnson," Judge McDonald spoke again. "Mr. Enjolras, you may proceed when you are ready."
Enjolras stood up and walked out in front of the bench, keeping his eyes down. This was the moment of truth.
"Gentlemen of the jury," he began, his voice shaking, but gradually gaining confidence. "On September 17, 1903, that man," he pointed, "Richard Enjolras, Sr., broke his wedding vows and went to the bed of a woman who was not his wife. As luck would have it, he produced a child from that brief union. That child – his daughter – grew up in extreme poverty, without a father, not knowing why he refused to meet her. Why he renounced her and refused to financially support her mother for 28 years; something any man with even a shred of dignity would feel honor-bound to do. That man, Richard Enjolras, Sr., ignored his duty to his family, and to the law."
Enjolras paused to let that sink into their minds, the way he learned in law school. "Would you let a man like that walk away from here unpunished?" he asked softly, his eyes looking over each of the men before him in turn. "Gentlemen, we are here to prove that Richard Enjolras, Sr. is guilty of the aforementioned crimes, and that he will pay the price for them." With nothing else to say, he walked back to the bench for the prosecution and took a seat beside his best friend.
"Thank you, Mr. Enjolras," Judge McDonald said, turning to the defense. "Mr. Enjolras, Sr., how do you plead?"
"Not guilty, Your Honor," the older man said pointedly, shooting a dirty look at his son across the aisle. However, the younger man simply clenched his jaw and ignored his father's stare. He would not let his father get to him now.
Judge McDonald smiled tightly. "We'll let the jury determine that," he said. "I set your bail at $20,000. The hearing is now adjourned," he said, banging the gavel.
Enjolras and Combeferre started to gather up their papers as the courtroom slowly emptied, people idly chatting in low voices. Enjolras swallowed hard in an attempt to clam his racing heart; he couldn't believe that this case was actually unfolding. He had talked about it for so long, but actually going through with it was something else entirely. He found that he was terrified of what would happen. "So what now?" he murmured to Combeferre out of the side of his mouth.
"We go back to your apartment and make a case," he answered dryly.
The other man chuckled softly, picking up his briefcase. "I suppose I could ask Éponine to cook for the three of us again tonight. I'll ask her when I get home."
"Still got that harlot of yours in your apartment, then?" Enjolras heard his father call out loudly as they were leaving the courtroom. "Don't think I approve of her, son."
He stopped in his tracks, clenching his teeth and free fist, trying to resist the urge to punch his father square in the face. Combeferre leaned over to murmur in his ear, "Don't do it, Richard. He's not worth it. Think of Éponine."
Enjolras' breathing gradually slowed down as he and Combeferre left the courtroom. "So I'll see you for dinner tonight?" the latter asked once they were walking down the steps.
"I'll give you a call," the former replied, stepping into his car to drive back to his apartment.
Combeferre nodded. "I'll see you soon, then."
Enjolras nodded back. "Thank you for all your help, John."
Enjolras was in for an unpleasant surprise when he walked up the steps to his apartment. A newspaper was sitting on his porch, with an enormous headline in all capital letters and bold print.
ENJOLRAS VS. ENJOLRAS
SON PROSECUTES FATHER IN CASE ALMOST 30 YEARS OLD
He clenched the paper in his fist, which started to shake from the force of his grip. This was outrageous. The last thing he needed was bad press. With more force than was necessary, he unlocked the front door of his apartment and stormed in.
"Enj? Is that you?" he heard Éponine calling. "What hap – what's that in your hand?" she asked.
Enjolras slammed the paper down on the table, the loud headline facing up. "Read," he said gruffly.
Frowning, Éponine picked up the paper, her face immediately changing as she started to read the article. "What the…? Enjolras, Have you read any of this? It's pure slander."
"I'm sure," he muttered through tightly clenched teeth. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Can Combeferre join us for dinner? He and I plan to work more on the case tonight."
Éponine nodded. "Of course."
Enjolras nodded his thanks to her. "I'll give him a call, then. What time should we have dinner?"
"I was thinking 6:30," she said, making her way to the kitchen.
"That should work."
True to her prediction, dinner and Combeferre were at the table by 6:30. Éponine could tell that Enjolras was still angry at the article in the paper, but Combeferre seemed to be oblivious.
"Did you get a chance to take a look at the newspapers today?" she asked him quietly.
'Ferre seemed confused. "No, should I have?" he asked.
"Definitely," Enjolras answered through gritted teeth. She could tell he was trying to keep a hold of his temper, and having a difficult time of it.
"I can't believe what they're saying…look at this," he said, picking up from where it sat on the kitchen table. "'In a shocking hearing this morning, Richard Enjolras, Jr. has brought a case against his father to the courts that is almost as old as he is,'" he read aloud. "Why the hell do they feel the need to say that?"
"One can only imagine," Éponine muttered in reply.
Combeferre opened another page of the article, a frown marring his features. "Good Lord, it gets worse," he muttered. "They just go on and on for pages about how you're just doing this for the money."
"What?" Éponine asked incredulously. She had only glanced at the paper, not really reading through the entire article. It had made her too angry to concentrate.
Enjolras gave a low grunt that Combeferre obviously did not hear, or if he did, he chose to ignore. He began reading, "'Many speculate that Enjolras Jr. would have much to gain from his father's imprisonment. Investigations show that once imprisoned, Enjolras Sr. would lose his home in his name, along with his family car and all of his investments which would therefore be then transferred to his next of kin – his only son.' Enjolras, can you believe they had the nerve to go through your personal finances? How else would they know this?"
Enjolras didn't reply as he ground his teeth together before he forced himself to take another bite of his meal. Éponine watched him out of the corner of her eye as she stayed silent in the rising tension.
"Oh, God," Combeferre prattled on, "then they say that if it is not money reasons that you are doing this for it's because of a 'brewing romance with Cosette Tholomyés. The couple has been seen together recently "embracing," and it is speculated that he may force his father's imprisonment for her protection and their mutual – '"
"ENOUGH!" Enjolras shouted, slamming his hands on the table and standing up. "I don't need to be constantly reminded of the slander out there, or the fact that all of New York is against me in this case! I'm trying hard enough to do the right thing; I don't need your reminders of what I'm facing! WHERE DOES IT END?!"
Suddenly, not a sound could be heard in the small apartment. Éponine was cringing away from him in clear terror; she looked as though she were expecting a blow. Combeferre was staring open-mouthed at his best friend's outburst. Enjolras continued to breathe heavily in anger for a brief moment before he managed to collect himself enough to sit down, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I'm sorry…" he said softly, guiltily. "I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. It's just…" he sighed heavily. He looked over to Éponine, who was looking at him with frightened eyes and still shielding herself with one hand. "Éponine," he murmured softly, taking one in his own and stroking the backs of her knuckles with his thumb, "You know I would never lay a hand on you, my love. No matter how mad I get. That's a promise."
"I…I'm so sorry, Enjolras…" Combeferre said softly. "I didn't want to make you angry, I was just – "
Enjolras held up a hand to stop his best friend. "There's no need for you to apologize, 'Ferre. I shouldn't have lost my temper." He paused. "Neither of you deserves that," he added quietly.
The rest of the meal passed in an awkward silence, everyone at the table staring down at their plates and eating mechanically. Éponine was still visibly shaken, and Enjolras was cursing himself for it. How could he have such an outburst when he knew the kinds of men she'd already had in her life? Men like her father, like Montparnasse?
No. Stop, he chided himself. You are not like those men. You got her out of there.
Dinner soon ended, they said their goodbyes to Combeferre, and Enjolras shut the door behind him as he left. He paused for a moment, letting his forehead fall against the door as he breathed heavily.
"Don't work yourself up over this too much, love," Éponine's voice said quietly, soothingly, behind him. A moment later, he felt her hand on his shoulder. "You've put so much of yourself into this case; it's okay to get frustrated."
"But not like this," Enjolras said softly. "This case, Éponine…it's making me someone I'm not. What if…what if I end up becoming exactly like the man I'm trying to put away? To prove guilty? I don't want to be like him," he said in a small voice. He felt a gentle rub on his shoulder.
"Look at me, love," she said softly. "Please."
Enjolras paused for just a moment, before turning around to face her. Éponine gently cradled his face in her hands and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "You are not like your father. Believe me," she said quietly. "You will never be like your father, or my father, or Montparnasse. You are not like them. You never could be."
Gently, Enjolras placed his cheek on the top of her head as he pulled her into his chest. "I love you so much," he murmured softly. "You know that, right?"
"I know."
A/N: I know it ended a little hastily, but there you have it! You know the drill!