A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and support, guys!

Chapter 21: It's A Fine Life

"An improvised cannon would not leave this sort of debris. This was just meant to scare."

Enjolras smirks knowingly as he sets aside some Polaroid photos of ruined masonry at a factory. "It's not that difficult nowadays to come across hard hitting ordnance, outside of the military circles."

"You keep talking like that, Chief, and we'll be investigating gun runners again," Feuilly warns in a singsong voice. He picks up the photos and starts leafing through them once again. "Even the showy pyrotechnics can cause property damage when not set up right. Many kids can tell you so. All it will take to do this is a run down to the firecracker store to get a really big rocket or a string of those smaller ones that they call pythons."

The attorney grits his teeth as he imagines the unfortunate consequences of such experiments. "Unless we can prove that the union members did not intend to blow up the factory, we may have to defend them from arson charges which their former employer will only be too happy to file," he points out, lowering his voice lest they be overheard by the other people looking through files in the crime lab's second floor. Although this case is relatively low-profile compared to Clara Gardner's situation or even his parents' still ongoing divorce, he knows better than to let too many details slip to wayward ears.

"Then hopefully it won't cross his mind," Bahorel says nonchalantly as he saunters into the room, carrying some boxes. "Let him be the goose that he is."

Enjolras shakes his head more disapprovingly at this thought. 'When everyone is guilty in some measure, that only means there is a chain to break,' he tells himself. It is rare that he has a case that is clear cut, wherein justice and impunity are in obvious opposition. "All the same we must not be overconfident."

"Are you wary now about an even playing field?" Bahorel laughs.

"Why should we be?" Enjolras remarks before continuing to review the stacks of photographs. After a few minutes he hears what sounds like a squad car pulling up outside the lab. Inevitably this is followed by the racket of heavy footsteps mingled with gruff upbraiding and loud imprecations. 'Clearly some arrest has been made,' he notes as he carefully moves his work further away from the doorway.

In a few moments a blonde woman strides in, apparently heedless of the fact that her blue button-down blouse is soaking wet. She stops in her tracks as her gaze falls on Bahorel. "Remy, what are you doing here?" she asks.

Bahorel's look is one of consternation but it changes into a grin as he takes stock of her bedraggled appearance. "Did you have chilli for lunch? I never saw you have to cool off that desperately."

The woman scoffs as she pushes up her sodden sleeves. "Who has time to eat when you have an arrest to make?"

"Next thing I know, Karen, you'll be asking me to make you a sandwich just so you'll eat," Bahorel quips.

"I prefer you taking me out to dinner," the woman named Karen retorts.

'This explains a great deal,' Enjolras notes even as he hears Feuilly loudly clearing his throat. "Are you well?" he asks Feuilly discreetly.

Feuilly nods quickly. "Bahorel, are we forgetting something?" he chimes in before elbowing him.

Bahorel scowls but still holds out a hand to his friends. "Friends, meet Miss Karen Hooper. Karen, may I introduce my comrades Enjolras and Feuilly."

"If we are getting in the way, Officer Hooper, we can move our work elsewhere," Enjolras offers as he shakes Karen's hand cordially.

"Not at all. This isn't the room for handling all the fresh evidence I picked up," Karen replies casually. She surveys her drenched attire once again. "I wouldn't have been able to make the arrest if it wasn't for your wife's help. She was the one who pulled the fire alarm that called off the suspects that would have had everyone at gunpoint."

'That is something Eponine would definitely do,' Enjolras notes, smiling briefly despite the frisson of worry coursing through him. "What happened?"

"The suspect was trying to lure a boy into a job of the illicit sort." Karen's face twists with disgust and she takes a few deep breaths. "Marguerite Blakeney is taking care of him now, while I handle the suspects. There weren't any casualties."

Enjolras nods. "That is good." He brings out his phone and goes straight to the voicemail option. "Eponine, how are you? I'm at the crime lab now, and I heard from Officer Hooper about what happened at lunch. Please call me when you get this. Thanks."

In the meantime Feuilly regards all of this with a bored expression. "That, I understand, Chief," he says, gesturing to Enjolras' cell phone. He rolls his eyes as he gestures to where Bahorel is pestering Karen despite her attempts to excuse herself. "This will take a little minding," Feuilly adds in an undertone.

"Is there a problem?" Enjolras asks.

"Just look at it. Not very gentlemanly, and she has to get away," Feuilly mutters.

Enjolras goes up to Bahorel and clasps his shoulder. "Unfortunately, all this talk aside, I believe we all have work to do."

Bahorel gives Enjolras a rueful look before squaring his shoulders and smiling at Karen. "I'll find you later. We aren't finished yet," he tells her in a low voice.

"Call me," Karen says firmly before turning on her heel and walking out of the room.

Bahorel shrugs at this. "Such an impossible woman."

"You're the one who is impossible, my friend," Feuilly shoots back. "She was here to work."

"Conversation aside?"

"You're going to lose her if you keep that up."

This time it's Enjolras' turn to roll his eyes as his two friends begin to argue. It's just as well that his phone begins to ring, and the number there is just the one he wants to see. "That was quick, Eponine," he greets, not hiding the relief in his voice.

"Not as quick as news getting around," Eponine replies candidly. "I'm okay, so don't you worry. Actually I'm with Zel at her place. Gav is here too."

Enjolras finally takes a deep breath, if only to relieve himself of the feeling of his heart hammering in his chest. "So I take you have the rest of the afternoon free?"

"Pretty much. We could check out some of the houses we've been looking up," Eponine suggests.

"Now suddenly you're so domestic?"

"We may as well. I don't want to be house hunting right next to my due date!"

Enjolras chuckles at her tone. "Alright then. I'll finish up here, and come over in a while."

"Take your time; we're still working out lunch here," Eponine says. "I'll see you-oh no, Alex, don't put that in your mouth!" she calls before quickly hanging up.

'That's a preview of our lives in a few months,' Enjolras realizes as he pockets his phone. He looks to where Feuilly is swiftly packing up papers while Bahorel is filling out a form at a desk across the room. "Are you finished with your discussion?" Enjolras asks tersely.

"I need to make a trip," Feuilly replies, pointedly avoiding even a glance in Bahorel's direction. "I'll give you an update on anything I find by tomorrow," he tells Enjolras before heading to the door.

Bahorel sticks out his tongue as soon as the door is shut. "Why is Feuilly suddenly making this an issue?" he gripes. "I am not accountable to him."

"It may have to do with how you relate to Officer Hooper, especially in her capacity as colleague and co-investigator," Enjolras points out.

Bahorel scoffs. "Karen is not just a colleague."

"All the more reason to give this consideration," Enjolras says sternly. "That is my piece on the matter."

Bahorel nods slowly. "Since Feuilly is in a mood, and I probably ought to do some talking with Karen while you have to meet Eponine, are we already done for the day? This place only admits visitors till noon or so on the weekends."

Enjolras carefully takes stock of all the photographic evidence they have somehow collected despite all this chitchat. "We have to make another trip here on Monday," he decides.

"Understood, Chief," Bahorel says, making a mock salute before quickly ducking out of the room.

Enjolras takes a few more moments to check over their work once more, and only then he heads out to his car for the drive to the Courfeyrac residence. He keeps the radio on during the entire trip, listening for any early coverage of the events that Karen has related to him, but surprisingly the noontime news is silent on the matter. It's a quiet that Enjolras finds welcome and yet unnerving all at once.

When he arrives at his friend's home, he only has to ring the doorbell once before Gavroche, with Alex in tow, greets him at the front door. "Hello Enjolras. You're just in time to help babysit!" Gavroche says cheerily before unceremoniously placing the baby in Enjolras' arms.

Enjolras barely has time to adjust his hold on the child, more so when she screeches in protest at this sudden change. "Alright, I've got you, Alex," he mutters when he finally manages to cradle her properly. He gives Gavroche a withering look. "Give me fair warning next time."

"Better now than later," Gavroche quips before chucking Alex's chin. "See, your big scary uncle isn't that horrible."

Enjolras rolls his eyes as he tries to bounce the increasingly restless baby. He cannot imagine now how he's going to hold his own son when the time comes. In fact just looking around the living room is surreal for him; there is now a playpen in the corner where Courfeyrac once kept his weights, and there are baby toys on the sofa, the coffee table, and even on the window seat. Suddenly he catches a whiff of butter, pepper, and oregano in the air. "Where's everyone else?"

"Zel and Courf are upstairs," Gavroche replies, wiggling his eyebrows. "Ponine is taking charge of lunch."

"I see," Enjolras deadpans only to end up chuckling when Alex blows a raspberry at him. "Now what was that for?"

"It's what little kids do," Eponine calls from the kitchen doorway. She is wearing one of Azelma's sundresses, and the light material glides over her form perfectly, making Enjolras' mouth go dry as he watches her walk up to join them. "How was work?" she asks as she helps him adjust his grip again on little Alex.

Enjolras smiles gratefully when Alex snuggles more comfortably into his shoulder. He plants a quick kiss on Eponine's cheek. "Interesting. Your friend Karen Hooper has a way of delivering news."

Eponine laughs. "I figured. She's quite the character."

Gavroche glances at his sister and his brother-in-law. "So this thing with her and Bahorel is serious?"

"It's only been a few weeks," Enjolras points out.

"It's already one for Bahorel's Book of Records," Gavroche quips before reaching out to take Alex. "There, it's time to be with the fun uncle again."

Eponine pokes her brother in the ribs. "If you corrupt her, you're going to hear from me first even before Zel gets wind of it." She takes Enjolras' hand to pull him to the kitchen. "I've got something I have to show you," she whispers excitedly.

"What is it?" Enjolras asks before Eponine suddenly places his hand on her abdomen, just near her right hip. It takes a few moments till he feels a light nudge right under his palm. "Is that..."

Eponine nods gleefully. "He knows it's you. I had the phone on speaker mode when I listened to your voice mail and when I called you, and I swear he was all over the place when you started talking."

Enjolras grins as he feels the baby kick again, this time near his fingers. "This is amazing. I thought that you wouldn't be able to pick up on that for a few more weeks."

"I guess he's out to surprise us," Eponine replies before stepping away to turn down the flames of one of the burners on the stove. She swats away Enjolras' hand when he reaches out to lift the lid of the pot there. "It's another ragout recipe. No peeking!"

"How many of those do you have?" Enjolras asks bemusedly.

"As many opportunities I've had to cook this," she replies. "There's some garlic bread though if you and Gavroche want to get an early start. We're also having some buttered corn too; that should be ready in a few minutes."

"It's unbelievable that you have the energy for all of this," he remarks as he brings out the tray of garlic bread from the oven. Then again he knows that cooking is something she considers as leisure; perhaps owing to the more leisurely planning involved as opposed to surgery.

When Enjolras returns to the dining area, Azelma and Courfeyrac are already there with Gavroche and Alex. "I knew that Eponine would chase you out," Courfeyrac jokes. He punches Enjolras' shoulder. "Nice to see you here."

Azelma sighs deeply as she nods to her brother-in-law. "I can't believe you're so calm. Is this a normal thing for you guys? Can't you ever go out for lunch without some drama?"

"On Wednesdays we tell the goons to take a day off," Enjolras deadpans.

"Enjolras, someone pointed a gun at Azelma's back," Courfeyrac says tersely as he clasps Azelma's hand. "She didn't sign up for that, not like the rest of us."

"It's not that, Maurice," Azelma manages to say. "I was just this close to not seeing you, Alex, Gav, or anyone else again. Especially Alex." She swipes at her eyes before looking at Enjolras. "You'll understand better when your son is born."

Enjolras is quiet, now that he sees how rattled Azelma still is. "My apologies."

"Has the spawn got a name yet?" Gavroche asks through a mouthful of garlic bread. "Maxime is a step up from good old Maximillien."

"Maxime? Are you serious?" Azelma chimes in. "You're better off with something literary like Dorian."

"Now that's going to be a kid who's never getting art lessons," Courfeyrac snickers.

"I'm not sure that is how the story goes," Enjolras points out. He takes a moment to get a piece of garlic bread. The crispness is a sharp contrast to the savoury blend of butter, garlic, and basil. "It doesn't lend itself to good nicknames," he adds.

"A hell lot better than Aureliano or Aurelien," Courfeyrac quips.

"Definitely not."

"What about Marcellin?" Gavroche suggests.

Courfeyrac grimaces. "Too old fashioned."

"I'd go with the name Julien," Azelma suggests.

"It sounds despotic," Enjolras mutters.

"It's a cooking step, that's what it is," Gavroche chuckles. "Sebastien? You can call him Basti, and that's pretty badass."

"Yeah but people kind of see a crab when the name Sebastien comes up. Just ask my students," Azelma points out. "Antoine sounds pretty classy."

"It's the sort of name that one has to say with a powder up the nose," Gavroche argues. "Let's make it easier and call him Alexandre-"

Azelma gives him a withering look. "I'll cut you for that."

Gavroche sticks out his tongue at her. "What about Vincent?"

"That's my second name. I never liked it," Enjolras replies. "At the rate we're going we're going to have an everyday name like Jean-"

Gavroche and Azelma groan while Courfeyrac bursts out laughing. "Everyone is named Jean. Do you seriously want to lose your kid in a classroom?"

"That is why we have second names," Enjolras retorts.

Azelma grabs a piece of garlic bread. "I'd go with Gabriel. It's not unusual but it's respectable."

"It only works if he comes out like curly tops over here," Courfeyrac jokes as he nudges Enjolras.

"So what if this kid ends up with straight dark hair like Ponine has?" Gavroche asks.

"Then call him Henri," Azelma replies smugly. "That works too."

Enjolras raises an eyebrow. "Why would I name my son after yet another king?"

"Says the man who is named Auguste?" Eponine chimes in as she enters the dining room, carrying the pot of ragout and setting it down. "I'm quite partial to the name Louis."

"Another monarch's name?" Enjolras asks, trying not to cringe.

Eponine snorts at his expression. "If it was up to you, our son would walk around with a name after some revolutionary like Lech or Che."

"Now I'm going to be reasonable about that. We probably should make lists and think this out more thoroughly," Enjolras suggests. "He's going to have to live with this for the rest of his life."

"That's why I don't want anything that's going to be controversial," Eponine concurs, moving the tray of garlic bread to allow Gavroche to put the bowl of buttered corn on the table. "People, especially kids, can be really mean about that."

"Which was why I always used to introduce us as Nina, Zellie, and Gav all the way till middle school," Azelma points out as she picks up Alexandra and props her up in a high chair. "There, there, it's your lunchtime too now," she tells the baby before kissing the top of her head and heading to the kitchen.

Courfeyrac grins at the sound of Azelma opening the refrigerator. "It's applesauce day today," he explains to the rest of the family. "We have to mix new foods in with stuff she likes such as applesauce, porridge, or honey; otherwise she'll simply spit everything out."

Eponine laughs and shakes her head. "Aren't you getting to be a picky eater, Alex?" she asks, only to have the baby giggle in her face. "Try not to give your Maman and Papa a hard time, please?"

Alex only squeaks and laughs again, which only sets everyone else off chuckling as well. Enjolras sees Eponine and Azelma exchange smiles that speak of nostalgia, perhaps about similar scenes from their own childhoods, when Gavroche was still a little boy. The thought has him smiling, even if he knows that he himself cannot draw on any similar recollections of warm mealtimes or living room gatherings outside of the holiday season. 'Hardly surprising,' he reminds himself; after all his father was absorbed with work while his mother had her social commitments to keep up. All the same it's rather unsettling, and he wills himself to keep his composure as he helps pass around the ragout and buttered corn. He sees that Eponine's eyes are dark with concern when she meets his gaze but he doesn't say anything to this, preferring instead to enjoy the food. The ragout is slightly piquant and the buttered corn practically melts in his mouth, and these as well as the lively conversation are just what he needs at this moment.

It is only when they are alone in their car that Eponine gives him that knowing glance as she squeezes his knee. "That's a bit of how we're going to be in a few months, you know."

Enjolras takes a deep breath, if only to keep calm. "I cannot imagine how we'll get there."

"We won't be as peachy but we'll be interesting." She clasps his hand and rubs her thumb over his pulse point. "Our kid is going to idolize you, I'm sure of it. Maybe he won't necessarily want to be a lawyer but he's going to be that one little boy who's going to tell all his friends that his dad can do everything."

"How sure you about that?"

"You'll love him, and I've never known you to do a half-assed job at anything."

Enjolras smiles at this vote of confidence. "Speaking of which, he still needs a name."

"I'm not kidding about liking the name Louis," Eponine quips. "I've always liked the name Jules but somehow it sounds a little wrong with the surname 'Enjolras."

"There are worse combinations," Enjolras points out. "Any other ideas?"

"Eugene. Geoffrey. Maybe even the name Lucien," Eponine replies, now cracking a smile. "I had thought of using a name passed down in my family; I don't know why my father didn't give it to Gavroche."

"What name is it?"

"Adrian."

Enjolras silently tries out the name. "It works."

Eponine shrugs. "I'm not entirely sold on using it. Are there any names you actually like, besides anything incendiary?"

"Sylvain," Enjolras replies. "I'm not sure about the nicknames for that."

She makes a face. "Not all boys would like to be called Syl." She takes a moment to check the GPS. "Oh we're nearing the first address."

'Which will not be ours,' Enjolras realizes when he sees a 'SOLD' sign on the house's fence. He squeezes Eponine's hand when he sees her shoulders slump with disappointment. "There are other addresses we've looked up."

She takes a moment to check something on her phone. "There's only one address still available that's near our workplaces. The rest are just too far."

"It's still worth a try," he points out. "We may as well since we're still on the road."

She nods after a moment. "Fine. But if we don't get an address or start talking about buying anything by the end of this month, we'd better talk about rearranging our apartment."

"It's not going to come to that," Enjolras says confidently. As far as he's concerned their son deserves far better than to take his first steps in the cramped rooms they still call home. He feels nothing but relief when they finally pull up outside a small two-storey brownstone house with a green wrought-iron fence, and the 'FOR SALE' sign is still hanging from the gate. As he and Eponine go to ring the doorbell he feels her slip her hand in his. The clear ringing of the chime pierces the air and a few moments later a spindly elderly woman clad in a long white housedress and apron opens the front door. "Good afternoon Ma'am. We're here to inquire about the house," he greets cordially.

The woman stares first at him and then at Eponine. "Doctor Thenardier! Is that really you?"

Eponine laughs even as she turns a little pink. "Hello Mrs. Escobar. It's Doctor Enjolras now by the way." She squeezes Enjolras' hand. "She was a patient of mine," she explains to him.

Mrs. Escobar smiles widely as she hobbles towards the gate to let them in. "Your wife is the best doctor. You're a lucky man," she tells Enjolras, swatting his arm for emphasis. She places a hand on Eponine's stomach. "How many months?"

"Almost five," Eponine replies. "I thought you were living with your family."

"They're noisy, I moved back here, but it's too much for a woman with my hips. I'm taking an apartment," Mrs. Escobar explains as she unbolts the gate. "I'll give you this house for a lower price."

"You don't have to. We're willing to pay the actual value," Enjolras answers uncomfortably.

"I was also a young bride too, with a little one along the way. Believe me, I know you two need every cent you can get," Mrs. Escobar says a little more chidingly. "Come on, I'll show you both my house."

Enjolras sees Eponine's eyes brighten as they step into the house, and he knows right away that she's definitely charmed by this place. He can see why; the front room is not large but it is cozy with enough space for a small group of family and friends to gather to watch movies or play games. The walls painted the color of light butterscotch only make the space more inviting. "There's a large alcove there we can use for a reading corner," he points out as Mrs. Escobar starts turning on more of the lights in the hall to show them the small bathroom to one side of the corridor.

"Maybe it could be a breakfast nook too," Eponine replies. Her jaw drops when she steps into the kitchen. "Oh my God. This is what I've always dreamed of!"

"A kitchen opening out into an herb garden?" Mrs. Escobar asks bemusedly.

Eponine nods enthusiastically. "I've never lived anywhere with enough space for more than a few pots."

Enjolras grins as he watches Eponine follow Mrs. Escobar around as the latter shows her the light brown marble counters, as well as some large wooden cupboards and the pantry. "I take that this will be your space to decorate," he remarks as he takes her arm.

"You know me so well," Eponine says. "Okay, that's going to be our breakfast nook," she adds, pointing to a corner. "Then that tree outside...maybe a tree house for our son if he's into that sort of thing?"

"Ah you're having a boy!" Mrs. Escobar sighs, clasping her hands. "You two are so lucky. I hope he's as handsome as his father and as sweet as his mother."

"As strong as her, rather," Enjolras points out.

The widow nods. "Naturally. Now why don't we go upstairs? There are three bedrooms, so there's always room for another child or two."

Eponine laughs nervously. "I want to at least get this one out of diapers first,"

"My dear, you won't be young forever," Mrs. Escobar scolds lightly as she leads them to the stairs. "Every child needs a sibling."

"He turned out well without one," Eponine says, glancing at her husband. "Besides how am I going to have time to be a doctor if I'm going to have to keep on going on maternity leave?"

Mrs. Escobar clucks her tongue as she fishes in her apron pocket for a set of keys. "There's an upstairs bathroom but the master's bedroom has its own bathroom too."

"That's good," Enjolras concurs as they begin to make their inspection of the rooms. The master's suite has a large enough alcove near the window that he knows will be enough to fit a desk. "Now that's going to be another reading nook," he notes.

"The bedroom is not supposed to be a workroom, but I guess we've got interesting habits," Eponine teases. "I like that the window doesn't exactly face east but we can still catch the dawn anyway."

"Why so?"

"Aesthetics. Anyway the light is as good as an alarm clock as anything."

Enjolras gives her a knowing smirk as they move on to take a look at the other rooms. "I think the room next to ours should be our kid's room. The other room can be a library or playroom in the meantime."

"In the meantime?" Eponine asks. "You don't mean to say..."

"If it happens, it happens. Just not right away," he reassures her. "Are we still painting this room green?"

She nods slowly. "He's going to be named Ian?"

"Why that?" Enjolras inquires curiously.

"It's short enough to use every day, and it's still somewhat connected to the name Adrian," Eponine replies. "If we named him Adrian we'd end up shortening it somehow so we may as well skip that."

"That's true," Enjolras concurs. "Very practical."

"Thank you." She takes his hand. "Now what about a second name? Your turn."

Enjolras doesn't answer right away as he goes through every name he's considered in the past few hours and days. Definitely names of relatives are out of the question, but perhaps not the names of mentors or old friends. "What about the name Charles?"

Her eyes go wide with curiosity. "Oh? What's the story there?"

"My mentor, Professor Myriel," Enjolras replies. "I've mentioned him before."

"Now and then." Eponine hums as if she is mulling over the name. "Ian Charles Enjolras. That's it then."

"Good." Enjolras brushes her hair out of her face. "So what about this place?"

"Let's see what Mrs. Escobar has to say. I like this too, nearly as much as our son's name."

He laughs and kisses her forehead before taking her hand to help her downstairs, where Mrs. Escobar is calling for them to join her for some tea.