A/N: Already had this written, so it just needed tweaking and editing. Thanks for all your angsty responses to the last chapter. Hopefully this one delivers...

Disclaimer: Les Misérables is copyrighted to and belongs to Victor Hugo. I'm just playing in his sandbox and receive no financial gain from this. Rats.

Chapter 17

"I am reaching, but I fall
And the night is closing in
As I stare into the void
To the whirlpool of my sin"
-Les Misérables

"What?"

It was the only logical word his mind could grasp. Enjolras blinked a handful of times, soaking in Marius's panic with his own unnerving shock and dismay.

Éponine gone? Impossible!

"Molly here just informed us," Marius gestured towards the frightened maid, who turned a shade redder when her eyes met Enjolras's, fierce and manifesting with a suppressed rage she had never witnessed before, "that gentleman who came here last night and gave Éponine such a turn..."

"You know who he is," Enjolras spoke directly to Molly, and it was a statement rather than a question, laden with underlying danger in his tone of voice.

"Y - Yes, sir," she stammered quietly, unable to meet his hardened gaze any longer.

"Who was it?"

Molly began chewing on her bottom lip before the knowledge came tumbling out of her. "It - It was Thernardier, sir, Mademoiselle's father. He - He got wind that his daughter was staying with Monsieur Gillenormand and about to be married to - to a gentleman."

Enjolras's hands balled into fists at his side. "And pray tell, where would he have 'gotten wind' of such news?"

Molly's eyes shifted uncomfortably to the ground, the guilt plainly etched on her nervous-ridden expression. "Me, sir," she softly acknowledged, keeping her eyes intently on the floor. "I... I heard that the Thernardiers had returned to Paris, so I... I sought them out and told them she was here."

"Why, Molly?" Marius asked, exasperated. "Why on earth would you tell them such a thing?"

"Be - Because I'd been quarreling with Mademoiselle, Monsieur, and I thought that—"

"No," Enjolras cut in, his voice freezing the air like a sheet of ice, "you weren't quarreling, Molly. You wanted her removed from this house."

Monsieur Gillenormand and the Pontmercies scanned Molly suspiciously, as well as with flickers of horror on their faces. Though the maid had been let go, it was still disheartening for them to take in.

Molly quickly looked up and furiously shook her head. "No, Monsieur," she tried to insist, though she was visibly trembling. "No, no! That's untrue!"

"You've wanted her gone from the start!" Enjolras's voice rose with an anger unbeknownst to the others, even Marius; it was the dangerous side to the freedom fighter he hadn't displayed in his friend's presence before, and the result caused Molly to startle where she stood and take a step backward. "Don't deny it, Molly! You sought every opportunity you could to get her out of this house! She was nothing if not polite to you, even as you threatened and interfered with her daily life here!"

"Molly?" It was Cosette who spoke up this time, though her sweet voice was considerably calmer than Enjolras's. "Tell him why you returned to us this morning. At the very least, Enjolras deserves to hear your remorse himself."

When Molly met one of her former employer's faces, she couldn't disguise her shame, nor the long-buried truth of the situation. Slowly but surely, she nodded her head in compliance and resumed her eyes on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Madame, Monsieurs," Molly offered through a quivering reply, though it did nothing to shake Enjolras's stance and brewing fury. "I conspired against Mademoiselle. I came here this morning in the hopes that there might still be time to..." She sucked in a breath. "To get her back before it's too late."

'Before it's too late.'

The words rang in Enjolras's ears like the chaos of the falling barricade. His heart beat furiously against his chest; he could feel his lungs constricting and robbing him of air as he stood there, helpless and at this maid's mercy.

"Where did she go?" he hissed at her like a coiling snake. "Where did he take her?"

"To - To where they're residing now, Monsieur."

"Which is?"

"I..."

Molly shifted her weight back and forth, her hands still knotting around the fabric of her soiled apron. Why she wore it Enjolras knew not. Though Monsieur Gillenormand and the Pontmercies had allowed Molly to stay on for several more days following her termination so that might have time to seek other employment, she had finally left them the previous night.

Her timing couldn't have been better planned, Enjolras all but growled aloud, piecing together her less-than-sincere apology.

That was it for Enjolras. In two or three strides, he was directly in front of Molly, who turned skittish and tried to rear back but to no avail. Her attempt was met with a wall and a ferocious Enjolras in her face. Her mouth fell open when he pressed her shoulder hard, his piercing blue eyes boring into hers as though they might burn her retinas straight through to the back of her head.

"Where is she?" he demanded again, no longer holding back his hostility. "WHERE?"

Molly stuttered out an address on the outskirts of town, which Enjolras mentally memorized and then took off at full speed, his hasty steps followed closely by Marius and Cosette. Both were begging him to halt.

Once he reached the front door, Enjolras finally spun around to face his frantic friends. "I must beg to make use of your carriage, Madame," he spoke urgently to Cosette. "It will make the journey much faster than on foot, and time is of the essence."

"Are you mad?" Marius interrupted, closing in on Enjolras before he could move. "You can't go there! It's the slums, Enjolras; the very worst of Paris! You'd be robbed and pillaged before you took a single step onto the street! You can't possibly—"

"And what would you have me do?" Enjolras shook off Marius's firm hold upon his coat. "Not go after her? You're mad, Marius, if you think for one moment that I'm going to simply let her go—"

"I meant that you shouldn't go alone!" Marius seized Enjolras roughly by the shoulder instead. "I'm coming with you." He lowered his voice, as if to keep his wife from overhearing. "We'll need ammunition," he added under his breath, to which Enjolras attested with a resolute nod.

Marius quickly exited off to the right, leaving a rankled Cosette where she stood, twisting her hands together and her eyes darting back and forth between both young men, her expression pleading and afraid for the pair of them. Enjolras reached out and gently took her arm.

"Please, Enjolras," she whispered, exasperated. "Haven't you both been through enough?"

"And what of my fiancée?"

"I want her back as much as you do! Believe me, I want Éponine rescued from that horrible place! But, surely, there must be another way!"

"The Thernardiers won't stop unless we stop them. You remember them well, I'm sure, and what they're capable of. You must understand that?"

Although he could see Cosette internally wrestling with what was happening before her panic-stricken eyes, eventually, she complied with a weighty sigh and a frown. By that point, Marius had returned with several loaded pistols in his hands. Cosette jerked out of Enjolras's grasp.

"Please, love!" she begged, but Marius leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"If we aren't back within the hour, Tom will bring back the carriage and send word."

Cosette stood, paralyzed, watching the two gentlemen hoist their guns and check them for maltriggering, two for each. Determination and an unsettling lack of fear loomed in their eyes; or, at least, for one of them: Enjolras. It was eerily reminiscent of the barricades and what they had bravely faced in that dreary Parisian alleyway, so much so that, for a moment, Cosette couldn't speak, let alone process what was happening.

"But..."

After readying themselves for the task ahead, Marius leaned into his wife and, again, kissed her, only more gently. "We'll be back," he assured her quietly. "Don't tell Grandfather. Let him think we've gone to fetch her, but nothing more."

"Oh, please be careful!"

Enjolras and Marius stormed out of the house, leaving the door wide open and a stranded Cosette hanging by the doorway, watching them go with her heart beating hard as drums. "Merde!" * she cursed before she could stop herself. She instantly covered her mouth with her hand, shocked that she had cursed, and was grateful no one was nearby to hear.

Enjolras and Marius maneuvered their way through the dirty, dank streets that stunk of the worst combination of piss and poor hygiene either of them had ever smelled. It assaulted their nostrils, and it wasn't even a half hour of stopping at virtually every food stand or open window or open doorway that their knee-high boots were soiled and covered in what was surely others' relieves.

Marius every so often grimaced in disgust, but Enjolras carried on, the maddening in his eyes festering the closer they came to locating Éponine's whereabouts. She was his only thought in mind, and he had everything to lose if this went badly. He had to reach her. He had to get to her before something dreadful happened.

Plenty of folks scattered and divided as the two established gentlemen marched through the city streets, though it had more to do with their visibly loaded weapons than their determined strides. They still cut an intimidating sight, however, particularly Enjolras, who looked like a wildfire about to spread through the ghetto and set every house aflame.

Neither expected to come across men in uniform or of the law, and, thus, carried on foot, their pistols at the ready. None of the army ventured to these parts, that much was certain, and the two educated individuals used that to their advantage.

"How do you suppose he got to her?" Marius had asked on their way to this lowly part of the city.

"Probably threatened her," Enjolras answered with a curled upper lip. His fists hadn't unknotted since receiving news of her abrupt departure. "Éponine's too selfless to consider her own safety before that of others."

"That we can agree on," Marius morbidly concurred.

"This will get ugly, Marius, you know that," Enjolras stated frankly once they had instructed Tom to wait for their return by the carriage within the hour.

"I know."

"If anything should happen to me—"

"Don't start, Enjolras!"

"I mean it! If anything should happen to me, take Éponine and go. Don't hesitate. Don't look back. Get her to safety. Get her home."

"If you insist."

"I command it!"

"Fine, fine, if you command it!" Marius tried to play off his friend's demands, but his nerves were clearly getting the better of him.

It had taken them nearly a half hour to locate her whereabouts, and now they stood outside a debauched house. The roof was caved in, the windows were boarded up, and not much of anything in its wretched state would convey to others that it was occupied. At first, Marius had questioned whether they were, in fact, at the right house, but Enjolras's torpid expression told him it probably wasn't worth the effort to argue or second guess.

Yes, Enjolras thought fleetingly, this is exactly the sort of shambles she'd be hidden away in.

Enjolras approached the front door with fresh perseverance. Marius, on the other hand, kept his eyes alerted to their surroundings, noting a couple individuals in higher flats who were peering out of their windows at the undoubted spectacle the two were making, aware of what was about to ensue, if their pistols were anything to go by.

Enjolras banged on the front door and was greeted by a gruff of a noise inside. What utter fools to have their windows boarded up, Enjolras considered as the door crept open, and a homely, mad-looking woman poked her head out at them, scanning their impressive figures up and down with pieces of mangy hair falling into her eyes.

"Can I help you, Monsieurs?" she asked with evident suspicion.

Enjolras stared her down with all the intimidation he could muster. It didn't take much.

"We're here for Éponine."

"Oh, no you don't!" she half screamed, half gasped, finally recognizing Enjolras from the barricade. She proceeded to slam the door shut, but not before Enjolras managed to slip a boot through the door frame.

"Where is she?" he growled, attempting to push the door wider with his elbow as she fought his efforts.

"You can't have her!"

"She isn't yours to keep!"

"She wasn't Monsieur Gillenormand's to give away!" she barked back.

Marius thrust an arm around his friend and pointed his pistol directly between her eyes. She stilled to the quick and whimpered at looking down the barrel of a loaded gun.

"Let us in," he demanded, the pair of them watching her eyes go wide with fear, "or we'll blow your fucking head to smithereens!"

"You - You couldn't! You - You wouldn't!"

"I would," Enjolras whispered so low that his voice barely registered. Using his free arm, he, too, pointed his pistol at her head.

"I'm her mother!" she gasped, her voice beginning to quiver.

"And unworthy of her all the same!" came Enjolras's enraged reply. "Let us in, or so help me, I won't hesitate to shoot you dead on your doorstep!"

Fretfully afraid of the freedom fighter making good on his threat, as well as his piercing glare that told her the man would do what he promised, she stumbled backwards, allowing them free access to pass through to a cramped kitchenette and sitting area that boasted of only a small wooden table and four lopsided chairs.

Keeping their guns pointed at the grim-ridden woman, Enjolras demanded to know where Éponine was, to which she wordlessly pointed upstairs. "Take us to her," he ordered.

"But..."

"NOW!"

That prompted the deceitful woman to move. She scurried up the stairs, trailed closely by Enjolras and Marius, into another cramped bedroom that, at present, contained no furniture; not even a bed. Enjolras made a quick scan of the banged up floorboards and dreary atmosphere, and the eyesight of three heavyset men came into view on the opposite end of the room. The one in the center turned around, as if he had been staring down at something, and squinted at he and Marius in the darkness. Immediately, he recognized Enjolras's younger friend, and his eyes went as large as saucers.

"You!" he hissed, which Marius uttered at the same time.

"I told you to leave Paris and never return!" Marius shouted, his anger boiling over. Enjolras wove an arm in front of him to command that he stop speaking.

"I came back to claim something that was mine," the man, undoubtedly Éponine's father, retorted with a smug, near toothless smile.

"She isn't yours!" came Enjolras's growl, which earned him ruffled comments from all three men. His wife ventured off to the side and tried to cross her arms, but it was obvious she was still quite frightened of them.

"Who claims her?" Thernardier asked, stepping forward. He was a large oaf of a man with cruddy rags for clothing and a scruffy beard to match.

"You know who he is," his wife snipped under her breath.

Enjolras still straightened, however, and offered his name, to which the two men at Thernardier's side snickered wickedly. Thernardier, meanwhile, judged Enjolras up and down with a critical eye and a thoughtful rub of his chin. Finally, he placed his hands on his hips, and, despite the loaded guns the two younger men held in hand, he turned up his nose defiantly at them.

"You can't have her."

Enjolras sucked in a breath. "What do you want for her?"

"She ain't for sale!"

"You have no right to keep her!"

"I'm her father!" he snarled like a wild animal.

"Be that as it may, she's engaged to me!"

"And yet, I never gave you permission to have her!"

Enjolras raised his arm and the two men drew back a step or two, showing signs of fear in their dirty faces for the first time. "Too late," Enjolras threatened through clenched teeth. Marius stepped forward as well with one loaded gun aimed at the men and the other at Éponine's mother.

Thernardier gave a snort that surprised Enjolras and Marius. "I'd lower those guns, if I were you."

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

Glancing between the two of them, Enjolras saw the panic start to take shape on Thernardier's face at long last. He was naturally blushing and biding his time but was at a loss being unarmed, as were his defenseless friends.

In one swift movement, Thernardier scurried out of view, pushing one of his thugs forward to reach for something behind them. Both Enjolras and Marius reacted instantaneously and sent warning shots blasting through the walls. Mrs. Thernardier screamed and crouched low to cover her face, whilst the two body guard-like figures froze in place with their arms raised in surrender.

Then, Enjolras caught sight of shuffling behind them and spotted a wide-eyed Éponine with a grubby hand covering her mouth and a sharp knife pressed to her throat. Thernardier bore him a foul, triumphant grin that spread from ear to ear.

"Put down the pistols, boys," he boisterously laughed, and for which his pals joined in. His wife slowly emerged from her protective ball on the floor.

"Let her go," Enjolras ordered, trying to keep his voice steady; the sight of Éponine in harm's way, however, made his heart pound.

Thernardier spit at him from across the room and shouted a defiant, "No!"

"We have guns pointed at your head, man!" Marius exclaimed, confounded by the fellow's foolish defiance.

"And I've got nothin' to lose anymore!" he spat back, digging the blade into Éponine's skin. She winced and whimpered in pain, her frightened eyes locked on Enjolras's.

Enjolras witnessed his woman in distress, trying frantically to communicate to him to desist with just a look. She shook her head as much as she could, despite her father's firm grip and the knife against her neck, ready to draw blood.

Enjolras turned his worried eyes to Thernardier, who had his jaw set and a dangerous, almost maddening look about him that warned Enjolras to quit if he held a prayer of getting Éponine back in one piece. He knew then that the man wouldn't hesitate to harm or even kill his own daughter. Thernardier was right: he really didn't have anything to lose anymore, for he had nothing left save for his wife, whom he evidently seemed to care very little for and vice versa.

Enjolras stepped forward, prompting Marius to ask him under his breath, "What the hell are you doing?" Enjolras started to lower the guns gripped in his hands, waiting for Thernardier to loosen his grip on Éponine as well. Gradually, the pressure to Éponine's neck eased as Enjolras bent down to drop his pistols to the floor. Éponine whimpered again, though it was unclear whether it was at the defeated stance of the man she loved or her father's painful grasp.

Then, all hell broke loose. In a flash of white light, loud shots rang out, followed by several fierce cries of distress. As the smoke from the gunshots cleared, Thernardier found his two fellow thieves sprawled out on the floor, wailing and grimacing in agony at the blood that trickled down their legs where they had each been shot in the shin.

Meanwhile, Marius had Thernardier's wife in a choke hold with one of his guns aimed at her head. Between Enjolras's two pistols pointed at him and Marius's additional one, Thernardier found himself at an immediate loss and went numb where he stood.

Enjolras motioned Éponine to him with a toss of his head. Seeing as her father was too stunned and afraid now to so much as move, Éponine wiggled her way free of his grasp, but not before the knife next to her throat left a scratch as she made her escape. She cringed but ignored the burning pain as she flew into Enjolras's arms, though he was too preoccupied keeping his guns aimed at her father to hug her fully.

Ignoring the continued cries of the men on the floor, Enjolras spoke calmly into the stifling, confined room, "Marius, bring Madame Thernardier over here, if you please, and take Éponine downstairs. I won't be long."

Marius didn't hesitate to do as instructed, as though he and his fallen friends were back on the lonely barricade and taking orders from their fearless commander. Éponine, however, was staring up into Enjolras face, studying the terrifying expression he wore that she found to be unrecognizable.

"Enjolras?" she sputtered worriedly, searching his face for remnants of the man she knew and loved. "What are you—"

"Run along, Éponine."

His calm, though deadly, tone of voice startled her to the quick and she grabbed onto the front of his coat. "Please don't do anything stup—"

"I said run along."

His address was biting, cutthroat, and echoed that of a resolved soldier. Éponine found herself being snatched away by Marius, who pulled her out of the room and down the steps against her will, her arms outstretched to Enjolras all the while as she was led away.

The last glimpse she saw was that of the back of her fiancé, dressed in his blood red coat, and with two loaded guns aimed at her parents' heads as they slunk to the floor and huddled together, gazing up in a deadened shock. She could see that her father's pants were soiled with urine.

After a few minutes downstairs of fighting against Marius to go back up, two shots rang out, and both Marius and Éponine froze in place. An unsettling silence lingered in the air until heavy footsteps followed the bellowing artillery.

Enjolras appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his marble face once again suggestive of the man she had formed such an attachment to. That unknowing fury was gone. She wanted to run to him but held back, gazing at him with a mixture of awe and terror in her watery brown eyes.

Sensing her misgivings, Enjolras carefully approached her and reached a hand out to gently stroke her cheek. "Are you all right?" he murmured, and Éponine felt her throat unlock.

"Yes, I... I think so..."

Enjolras's fingers traced her jaw down to her neck, brushing along the mark left by her father's knife. "This will need proper attention when we get home."

Home.

Éponine stared at him long and hard, unable to breathe or speak, though an emotional response was nearing, reaching from the pits of her stomach up through her throat. Marius stepped forward, also looking rather hesitant.

"Enjolras," he started to cautiously inquire, "what did you—"

"Nothing that Éponine wouldn't have approved of," he answered, and Éponine felt the dreaded weight in the atmosphere lift. She flung herself against his solid form, grateful when he wrapped her up in a hug and held her tightly to his chest.

"I'm so sorry," her words finally came spewing out. "I'm so, so sorry! My father threatened to ruin us! He promised to expose my past and alert the authorities of your whereabouts if I didn't come to him at dawn. I - I didn't see any other way! I didn't—"

"It's all right, Éponine," he whispered, bestowing as much calmness as he could. He handed off his guns to Marius so that he could embrace her properly. "It's all over now."

There were muffled cries against his chest, fingers that dug into his back, and some wonderful nuzzling against his neck. "You came for me," she sniveled in a pained murmur. "You really came for me... You really came..."

"Of course I did," Enjolras challenged, hugging her even tighter with his face burrowed snug into the nape of her neck. "Did you actually think I didn't care enough to come find you?"

"No, of course not!" she cried harder, overcome with emotion. "It's just... You came for me! You did! For me!"

After allowing her a moment to cry unabashedly, Marius motioned to his friends to get a move on. "We have to get out of here. Come quickly!"

Enjolras swiftly removed his coat and wrapped it around Éponine's shoulders, leading her out of the battered house with his arm bound around her shoulder, pulling her against him protectively. Éponine tried to wipe at her eyes but was overwrought. Half way down the street, she closed her eyes and bundled her face against Enjolras's chest, perceivably trembling from head to toe.

"It's all right, Éponine," she heard Enjolras reassure her in his smooth, collected voice several times. "It's over now. I promise you, they can't come after you anymore. I've made them promise. They won't come looking for you ever again."

Enjolras repeated those affirmative words to Éponine several more times before they reached the carriage, where he took her chin in hand and forced her to meet his eyes. Though still crying, she paused long enough to take in his soothing countenance.

"You're mine now," he declared softly and brought his lips to her forehead. Éponine was overwhelmed and leaned into his warm, loving caress, content to stay in such a position forever when he added, "And I'm yours," which made her bury her face in his chest and softly weep some more.

Éponine found herself eased into the horse-drawn carriage and whisked away from her fretful past once and for all, only this time she sensed with certainty, thanks to the man at her side, that her demons wouldn't follow her this time. Enjolras had, with a few choice words, restored her confidence that things would be different from here on, and that was all Éponine needed to hear to succumb to her emotional exhaustion. Without much effort, she fell asleep in Enjolras's arms.

Throughout their short journey home, Éponine slept with her future husband's strong arms latched around her and hers around him, as though she feared he would vanish in a billow of smoke and air should she let go. She never woke, even as her fiancé exited the carriage with her carefully held in his arms.

Without a word, he carried her into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom. There, he laid down beside her and allowed Éponine to re-snuggle against his chest and with one arm draped over him in a loose-fitting embrace. Enjolras smiled into her hair and requested that Cosette fret over Éponine later and allow her—both of them, rather—time to rest and recoup.

The following day was spent recouping from her horrid experience in the company of good friends. By the late afternoon, Éponine was feeling more like herself again, though still slightly drained from her life-changing experience. To Enjolras's amusement, she hardly left his side that day, either remaining attached to his hand or, as was the case following lunch, his side whilst dozing comfortably on the couch.

"She's really been through the ringer, that one," Monsieur Gillenormand stated softly from his usual spot in the parlor next to the fireplace. The Pontmercies had excused themselves after lunch, as Cosette did some last minute preparations for their upcoming nuptials on the couple's behalf and Marius left for class at university.

"Yes, she has," Enjolras returned in an equally hushed tone, a hand mindfully brushing up and down her arm as she slept.

Ever more curious since their return, Monsieur Gillenormand decided that now was as good a time as ever to press Enjolras with his questions. "What exactly did you do, Enjolras? Marius said that he heard gunshots?"

Enjolras peered over at the old man, content not to disclose anything, but there were no secrets to be had amongst their small, intimate group. A wry smile crept across his lips, Éponine's head tucked snug beneath his chin.

"There were gunshots, yes," he answered, humored when Monsieur Gillenormand looked determined to weasel the details out of him. "Warning shots, that is."

"Ahhh, I see..." He raised one curious, bushy eyebrow. "And?"

"And threats were made—promises, rather—should they decide to ever come snooping around these parts again."

"And you don't think they will?"

"No." Enjolras's eyes drifted to the woman asleep in his fold, snoring faintly against his chest. "I think my promises sunk in quite clearly."

Monsieur Gillenormand angled his head. "What makes you so sure that they won't this time?"

The all-knowing smile on Enjolras's handsome face stretched farther. "They wretched themselves when my message was through and what I promised to do to them should they be foolish enough to try."

To this, Monsieur Gillenormand's eyebrows drew high on his forehead. "My, my, you're capable of being quite terrible, you know that?"

His tone was both amusing but also slightly alarmed, and it held Enjolras's unwavering gaze and attractive smirk for a time, though the arm that was wrapped around Éponine coiled a little tighter. The young Mademoiselle continued to dose uninterrupted, however, peaceful and secure in her fiancé's embrace.

"Indeed, Monsieur," Enjolras returned in a dangerous whisper, "I am capable of being terrible...if provoked."

* Translation: "Shit!"