7/5/13

Thanks to my three reviewers this time! I hate to be a review whore but please, please, please review to let me know if this is worth my time or not!

EmmaLaird – thanks for your help in pointing that out. Any advice or pointing out mistakes I have made is welcome!

dance-sing-live – thanks for your review and I hope you like this!

Juliet116 – You find out later in this chapter but there is someone watching Enjolras

Sorry for the long wait guys … I have been too happy to write this and too busy to write at all! This is only going to be a short fic but chapter quantity is undecided yet.

Chapter 2

Day 2 - 1:30pm

"Why don't you want me to read this?" Grantaire asked holding it away from Enjolras.

"I can't tell you, just give it back winerack!" he shouted, a hint of desperation resonated in his voice that made Grantaire falter slightly. He had never heard his Apollo plead before but he needed to know what was making the might Enjolras twitchy like this. Grantaire opened the note and cast his eyes down. Enjolras choked on a sob and feel to the floor. Grantaire read it and his heart sunk. Guilt filled his entire being and he threw the note on the floor in a fit of rage.

"I, I," Grantaire stuttered; for once he was at a loss for words. He had killed Combeferre. He had killed the best man to walk this earth; Combeferre was generosity and love personified. And Grantaire had killed him. Enjolras was trying to hold back the tears but Grantaire could do nothing to sooth his cracked marble statue. A piece of paper fluttered through a gap in Grantaire's door and the flash of white caught his eye. Cautiously he edged towards the door with a knife in hand. After all this had happened he was not letting them be caught unprepared again. The paper was the same as the first note and also had dried beads of blood stained into it. He slowly opened it and read the fluid elegant writing. Dear Monsieurs, In my previous letter I wrote that if anyone found out then I would kill Monsieur Combeferre. After a lot of thought I have changed my mind as he is too much fun to play with. Every time either of you tell anyone, I will pierce an organ … this time it is the liver. Bonne Chance

Grantaire sighed partially in relief and the rest being shock at the audacity of their opponent. Because that is all it is to that man; a game. A game of life and death but a game all the same. Then Grantaire and Enjolras would have to beat him at his own game. Enjolras was still sat with his head in his hands in the settee. He looked like he was about to cry but the shock had won over in his mind. "Enj, it's alright Ferre is alive," Grantaire told him and Enjolras' head shot up. Grantaire passed him the note and Enjolras' eyes darted from side to side reading it as fast as his frantic mind could comprehend. Enjolras let out a pent up breath he hadn't even realised he was holding in. "We need to stop him," Grantaire stated and Enjolras nodded, still not uttering a word. "You carry on as you are but with less vigor now," Grantaire instructed, needing to take charge of this dire situation. He would usually stay away; but this was the only person who seemed to care about him. This was war. And Grantaire was not going to let the scum win.

Day 3 – 5pm

"I know the mole!" Grantaire whispered walking into Enjolras' apartment.

"Who!" Enjolras exclaimed eagerly.

"Be quiet!" Grantaire whispered pushing him away from the window. "If there is a mole then that means he knows where you live and what we are doing so be quiet," he insisted. "Outside your apartment there is a man, he is an undercover Surete agent," Grantaire explained and Enjolras nodded.

"What now?" Enjolras whispered as Grantaire began pacing.

"I follow him, you stay on target and try to secretly arm yourself," Grantaire stated, pointing at him. "Do not say anything or act any differently!" he ordered and Enjolras nodded. Grantaire turned and prowled out of the door towards their mystery mole.

Day 4: 9pm
"Evening Lucien," the captain chuckled striding into Combeferre's cell. Combeferre could not even find the energy to lift his heavy head to look at his torturer. Pain shone through his usually guarded eyes and he wore of look of defeat. The singing had stopped, the retorts had run out. Combeferre had given up. He had to give it to him though. He was most certainly persistent; not once had he not arrived to deliver the pain personally. "This time it is going to be slightly different," he smiled as two of his henchmen walked towards Combeferre. He flinched away from their touch but he could do nothing as one held him tightly as the other untied him with unneeded brutality. It wasn't as if he was going to run. To run would mean he would have to have some strength and he would need to be able to move his legs. Neither of those were possible at the moment. "My boys here are doing all this for free and they are not very happy about the entertainment you are providing," he sighed and the men chuckled evilly. Each man took one of Combeferre's arms and slung them over their shoulders to carry him with his feet dragging on the cold stone floor.

He was carried out of the cell he had lived in for the past five days and into one further down the corridor. He wrenched his head up despite the protests of his exhausted neck muscles. This one was more of a permanent living cell. It had a chair in the middle like his other room did; and the same massive clock. But the main difference was a bed in the corner. It was surprisingly plush for a cell but Combeferre wasn't complaining; it was nowhere near as good as his bed at home but it actually had a decent mattress. That bed was where Combeferre was laid by the two henchmen that carried him in. It was a beautiful respite from the chair he used to sit on. "So I promised them that they could each have a day doing whatever they wished with you," the captain shrugged leaning on the door frame. Combeferre's heart dropped and he found himself shaking again. He knew what this meant. "That was as long as it didn't kill you and every two hours they inflict the cut," he mumbled with an evil grin at the trembling boy. One of the men left the room with the devilish captain but one remained.

"We're going to have so much fun pretty boy," the man whispered in Combeferre's ear and Combeferre cringed at his voice. Combeferre's arms were tied with one to each bed post so he was completely exposed to this man. He tried weakly to test the restraints. This man clearly knew what he was doing; they were tied so no matter how much Combeferre struggled nothing would come lose. The thug straddled Combeferre agonisingly slowly. Combeferre tried to look away but his head would not move. He couldn't look away from the common street thug sat on top of him. "You are the best toy chief has ever given us," the man chuckled and Combeferre's breathing picked up in fear. He tried to struggle but nothing happened. "Ouu a feisty one as well. Oui the best," he smiled and forced himself on Combeferre's lips. Combeferre tried to pull away and scream but the man was too strong for him to fight in his weakened state. The man's tongue prised his lips open and explored his mouth. Combeferre cried out against his lips but no sound escaped.

The man broke off the kiss and stroked down his cheek. "You are beautiful," he whispered with a manic grin. Combeferre was too scared to speak and didn't trust his voice not to betray him. "It is almost a shame to have to cut this body of yours, but it is part of our agreement," he shrugged pulling out a knife and stroking the flat side down Combeferre's face. "So it has to be done," the man whispered and stuck the knife into Combeferre's shoulder. He cried out in pain and was silenced by the man's lips on his again. He was terrified. Combeferre always hated to admit when he was scared. But he was terrified laid bound under a evil thug. The man pulled out the knife from Combeferre's shoulder and threw it on the floor.

"Pl-please stop," Combeferre stammered but the man just laughed.
"And why would I do that?" He asked running his hands down Combeferre's sides.
"P-ple-ase," he cried out at the touch.
"Stop talking!" The man ordered but Combeferre's fear overwhelmed everything.
"P-please," he begged. The man practically snarled, rummaging in this coat pockets. He found a piece of cloth in one of them. He rolled it up in his hands and pulled his belt off. Combeferre whimpered at the gesture but the man ignored him. "I thought I told you to stop talking," he growled. Combeferre opened his mouth again to protest but was silenced by the ball of cloth being pressed into his mouth. He gagged against the fabric trying to spit it out but his tormentor was too quick. He secured the belt round Combeferre's head and held the ball in place; gagging him completely. He tried to cry out but only a muffled sob escaped from the makeshift gag. He was now entirely helps at the whims of this horrible surete thug.

The man smiled at his handiwork from where he was sat on Combeferre's trembling chest. "Don't be scared little one," he chuckled which caused Combeferre to try to get away from him all the more. "I'll be very gentle," he promised but Combeferre's breathing grew even quicker in terror. The man smiled at his handiwork from where he was sat on Combeferre's trembling chest. "Don't be scared little one," he chuckled which caused Combeferre to try to get away from him all the more. "I'll be very gentle," he promised but Combeferre's breathing grew even quicker in terror. He tried pulling against the bonds again but this only earned him another chuckle from the thug. He ran his hands down Combeferre's chest causing shivers to run up his spine. The man quickly undid Combeferre's trousers and slid them down his legs. He reached mid-thigh but Combeferre halted his progress by kicking and squirming as much as he could to throw the man off. His valiant struggles were halted by the man's hands on his ankles. "Don't struggle, it will just make it worse for you," he hissed but Combeferre refused to give up struggling. It was his last hope; Combeferre refused to go down without a fight. The thug slapped him across the face, extracting a gasp of pain from the medical student. He pulled out two more pieces of rope from by the bed and hurriedly secured Combeferre's feet to the end of the bed so he was splayed open; completely exposed.

His trousers had been thrown off in the struggles and lay discarded on the floor next to the bed. Combeferre lay there trembling refusing to look up at his abuser, clothed only in his underwear. They didn't remain on for long as the brute tore them with the knife and they were added to the pile on the floor. He felt so venerable and scared to be at the every whim of a common street thug. Tears welled up in his eyes as the villain grabbed onto his hips. "Don't cry pretty boy," he whispered while moving his hands up and tangling them in Combeferre's hair. Combeferre tried to move away but the thug's hands were too strong and the brute wrenched his head around so Combeferre couldn't look anywhere but his eyes as he pulled him in for another brutal kiss. The tears streamed out if Combeferre's eyes as he squeezed them shut to try and escape this torment; this time is hurt. The kisses hurt through the gag that secured his mouth. While they were kissing, the thug's hands moved down from Combeferre's hair and latched firmly onto his hips again. "I am going to enjoy this," he chuckled as he pulled his own trousers and underwear off. Combeferre squeezed his eyes shut tighter.