A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update. Busy rotations don't do much for creativity. Anyway here we are. Thanks for staying with this fic!

Chapter 8:

After all this time working with his friends in the law office, Enjolras is fairly certain that eagerness is the one thing they do not have a scarcity of. "Today is our opportunity to resolve many questions, but we must not overstep our boundaries or tempt unnecessary dangers. Therefore we will not be venturing anywhere without any legal backup, warrants, or at the very least hard evidence. Our options are limited until Combeferre can secure additional statements from his patients," he tells Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Bossuet as they are getting coffee at their office. "We still have hearings scheduled tomorrow for some of our other longstanding cases; Courfeyrac and Bossuet will see to those." He looks to Bahorel, who is busy straightening out his cuffs. "You said you were meeting with an operative from the SOCO?"

Courfeyrac snorts. "You mean Officer Hooper? She is quite the interesting character."

"Very useful and forthcoming," Bahorel says nonchalantly. "She promised to share their team's report."

"Make it quick. I doubt her office will approve an overly extended lunch break," Enjolras remarks. "Feuilly, I understand that you will be talking to the police at the downtown precinct?"

Feuilly nods. "If there's anyone who will have a blotter on the Difunto gang, it's them."

"Point taken." Enjolras concurs. "We all have to be on the watch for suspicious activity. No letting on to strangers or even other operatives and attorneys. In case of any injuries, please bring yourselves or whoever is involved to the nearest medical facility, but log it in with Eponine since she's the consultant who is, as they say, 'decked' to this case."

"Speaking of decks, you'll be headed to the river ferry?" Courfeyrac clarifies. "I mean you ran this theory with me earlier and it checks out but you'll have to be pretty lucky to catch anyone in flagrante delicto."

"The best chances of that will be where everyone passes through, up and downriver," Enjolras explains as he goes to the map and gestures to Pier 1, the dock in the middle of the metropolis. "Some of the statements taken just after the rescue mentioned this transit point. There will be officers who would have kept records, most likely even CCTV footage."

"Sounds like it's time to borrow Mr. Fauchelevent's software again," Bossuet says. "Hopefully it's compatible with whatever you'll get."

"We'll work something out," Enjolras replies. 'This will have to be the only extent of the Fauchelevents' involvement in this case; this is getting too dangerous,' he reminds himself. The fact that so many of his friends and acquaintances are more than willing to help out is both reassuring and disquieting, especially in the face of a mysterious and bloodthirsty foe. He checks his watch, which now reads ten in the morning. "I'll be expecting some updates or at least a check-in by five."

"Got it Chief. You'd better check in too," Feuilly says as he shoulders his backpack.

"Of course." Enjolras waits for the rest of his team to leave before he checks some photos he has downloaded to his phone. What would be otherwise unremarkable screen captures from a CCTV camera at a ferry's ticket booth are unsettling when subjected to closer scrutiny. 'The fact that it's always the second window closed before noon and always the same persons waiting nearby can be taken as a sort of signal,' he decides as he drives out to the riverside road and to the largest port within the city limits. He parks his car a block away from the dock house and takes a look at the calling card that Eponine had acquired in the park a few nights ago. 'Well played, Blakeney,' he thinks as he takes in the familiar design of a red blossom in the lower right corner. It is an insignia he knows all too well, both from official records and from more youthful days.

It has been some time since he's had to work with Percy Blakeney, Marguerite St. Just-Blakeney, and their organization in any capacity; for one thing it has only been a year since he's left the legislature and returned to the fieldwork aspect of human rights law. 'At least I don't have to meet Percy Blakeney right away' Enjolras reminds himself, even as he recalls his acquaintance's particularly flamboyant, even foppish manners from university days. This is almost certainly the reason for Marguerite's being the one to initiate contact on her group's behalf, and coursing this through Eponine, who is the relative newcomer to Enjolras' own team.

The parking lot of the dock house is crowded with huge trucks offloading whole shipments of fruit or accepting shipments of fish. Further on are dozens of people practically mobbing the passenger entrance, scrabbling for overpriced tickets or simply trying to elbow their way into the terminal. Enjolras discreetly walks to the visitors' area, in time to see Andrew Ffoulkes alighting from a ferry. He allows himself a slight nod to this friend by way of acknowledgment. "Right on time," he greets.

"Wouldn't miss this; we really need the legal help," Andrew says amiably. "By the way I just ran into Prouvaire and his son back on the ferry."

"Did you now?" Enjolras asks curiously even as he hears his phone beep. He takes a moment to read Jehan's message to confirm this fact and then calls his friend up. "Jehan? At what station are you and Darren stopping at?"

Jehan's voice is loud even over the din of the ferry. "The one after this, at the center of town."

'Right where I need him,' Enjolras thinks, recalling the map in his office. "That's good. Could you please do me a favor and get a picture of the ticket booth there?"

"What for?"

"There's a theory that Ffoulkes and I need to test," Enjolras replies, glancing at the pier's ticket booth, which is now crowded by a group of elderly women in shawls. "I hope this time, we're wrong."

Andrew whistles as Enjolras ends the call. "So you've also heard of the signal?"

"Marguerite mentioned it, and I've had a chance to request some pictures," Enjolras explains. "I take that you are looking for someone?"

"The niece of one of the immigrants who Marguerite knows," Andrew says. "Her name is Charlotte Lee, or at least that's the name on her legal papers; she is probably travelling under another name by now."

"Last seen here?"

"Yes, and I have reason to believe that she was lured into this country on false pretences-like some of the people your commission has been assisting."

Enjolras nods, knowing it only stands to reason that Ffoulkes and his team have also been monitoring the case of the sweatshop workers. "Have you at least been able to pinpoint the ports and routes of illegal entry and identity switching?"

"Yes, but there is little a non-government organization can do about it," Andrew points out. "Much of our work is to educate migrants and help find placements and assistance for those who come in conflict with the law."

"Admirable." Enjolras looks about and sees that the crowd at the ticket booth has only thickened. It is at that moment that he sees a young girl flee the women's restroom, shouting and cursing at the top of her lungs. A crone soon emerges, holding out her hands and trying to soothe this troubled youngster but to no avail. Enjolras takes a step towards this scene even as more old women close in around the girl, apparently intent on shielding her from the crowd. By now Andrew is sprinting towards this scene, all the while frantically signalling to the guards for help. 'They are in on it,' Enjolras realizes even as he runs to pull this embattled youngster to safety. It's enough to give her an opening in the crowd, but not enough to prevent one of the crones from dealing a blow to the back of Andrew's head, hard enough to send him to the floor. The girl screams at this sight and flees the terminal entirely, dodging the one security guard who moves to stop her.

Andrew groans as he tries to sit up but only ends up curling up and holding a hand to his head. "Ffoulkes, don't move. We need to get you some help," Enjolras warns as he goes to steady his friend. He winces when Andrew nearly falls back. "Don't fall asleep. Talk to me. Who should I call?" he asks.

"Don't call Suzanne," Andrew manages to say. "Get Percy or Marguerite."

Enjolras nods even as he gets out his phone to dial the number on the calling card. He takes a deep breath as he hears someone picking up the phone. "Hello. May I please speak to Marguerite Blakeney?"

"Mrs. Blakeney speaking," a lilting voice replies. "Who is this?"

"Attorney Enjolras. Andrew Ffoulkes told me to contact you," Enjolras says. He sighs when he hears Marguerite gasp with shock. "You can use the GPS to check. We're at Pier 1. We'll have to be at the infirmary for medical attention-"

"No, I'll tell Percy to come for you guys," Marguerite cuts in. "Is it bad?"

"He's conscious," Enjolras replies, now walking alongside some of the guards helping carry Andrew to the pier's small clinic. He can see blood on his friend's head and he knows it doesn't bode well. "I'll transfer him to Saint Michel myself."

"Please do. Percy and I will meet you there," Marguerite says before quickly ending the call.

By this time Andrew is holding a hand to his head and nearly fainting at the sight of blood. "What was in that bag she hit me with? Weights?"

"Anything can be counted as a weight," Enjolras points out as he motions for their companions to carry him out instead to the parking lot.

Andrew chuckles weakly at this bad joke. "Are you getting my skull checked out?"

"May as well," Enjolras says. 'It won't just be the Blakeneys angry with me for this,' he realizes even as he starts the engine. He takes a deep breath before dialling up Eponine's number. "Hello Eponine. Who's your ER resident on duty?" he asks when she picks up after three rings.

"Hey Auguste. I have Reynault working there today-wait, why are you going there?" Eponine asks. "I told you to be careful!"

"It's not me, it's one of the Blakeneys' friends, Andrew Ffoulkes," Enjolras explains quickly. He grits his teeth when he hears Eponine sit down. "It's rather nasty, and I'm sorry..."

"Just explain later and just focus on getting your patient over here. I'll meet you," Eponine says after a few moments. "Don't call me while driving, okay?"

"Got it. I'll see you," Enjolras replies. He sighs when he hears her end the call. "How are you holding up there?" he asks when he sees Andrew looking through his own phone.

Andrew makes a thumbs up sign. "I think the signal theory was right. I had the phone on video the entire time and I caught a thing or two."

"I was hoping to be proven wrong," Enjolras points out, but it is at that moment that he gets a text message from Prouvaire, with a photo of a similarly crowded ticket booth downriver. "This is no coincidence," he mutters as he floors the gas pedal.

It isn't far to Saint Michel, but it still seems like an eternity has passed by the time Enjolras catches sight of the familiar hospital building. He practically brings the car to a screeching stop outside the emergency room, and then steps aside to let the orderlies and interns help bring Andrew into the trauma room. He catches sight of Reynault, the resident on duty, but before he can greet this doctor he also sees Eponine walk up hurriedly, looking both frantic and absolutely furious. "Eponine, I can explain-"he begins.

"There isn't an explanation for this, Auguste! You said you were just going to get into an inquiry, not like...like this!" Eponine blurts out as she grabs his arms, nearly digging in her nails through his shirt. "What if you also got hurt? What do you think was I supposed to do?"

"Things got out of hand," Enjolras insists as he moves to take both of her hands. "I'll tell you about it, but not here-"

"You owe me a decent medico legal report on this, you know?" she snaps. "I'm going to have to explain why you brought in someone with head trauma, coming from heaven knows what incident-

"We were trying to stop a kidnapping" he retorts. "A girl almost got snatched."

Her eyes widen at this revelation. "Well where is she?"

"She ran while I was trying to help Ffoulkes there."

Eponine stares at him for a moment, clearly trying to take in his story. "You explain this to Marguerite then. She just called my phone too." She takes a deep breath. "And don't you ever do that to me again."

Before Enjolras can reach for her or even say anything to reassure her, he hears another car screeching into the parking lot. He nods somberly as the driver's side door opens, and a tall, burly man emerges. His clothes are flashy and his gait would almost be gamesome if not for the worried expression on his face. "Good afternoon, Blakeney," Enjolras greets this newcomer.

"A fine way of putting it, Enjolras," Percy Blakeney replies in a booming voice. He bows gallantly to Eponine. "You must be Eponine. Marguerite has said much about you."

"How much can it be, considering I only met her just a few days ago?" Eponine quips. She waves at Marguerite, who is emerging from the car. "The team will do all they can for Mr. Ffoulkes, He has a head injury but hopefully it's not serious."

Marguerite quickly walks up to stand at Percy's side. "Glad to finally see you again after all this time, Enjolras. I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Don't we always, Marguerite. Demmed troubles," Percy remarks. He glances towards the emergency room. "Well now our dear Ffoulkes is in good hands. You were obviously down at the docks to catch the trouble, I hear?"

"Unintentionally," Enjolras replies. "I do not suggest we talk about this here."

"My office then," Eponine offers. "It's just to the left, you can't miss it." She hangs back to let the Blakeneys walk ahead before turning to look at Enjolras again. "This just can't keep on happening."

It is then that Enjolras realizes how pale Eponine is, which something that doesn't happen all that often. "It was a crime scene. Usually it doesn't play out this way."

"I know. But Chetta said I shouldn't worry or stress out, and nor should you, but how is that possible if you carry on like this?"

"I'll be more careful, I promise."

She bites her lip as she looks at him for a long moment. "I'll hold you to that. I definitely will. I can't do this alone, Auguste."