Title: Spring Sunshine

Summary: Enjolras is attacked and Combeferre helps him not only recover physically, but mentally. Enjolras/Combeferre slash.

Disclaimer: I do not own and never will.

Warning: Slash and some serious hurt dished out.

Chapter 1

Combeferre, looking back, could never remember what the argument had been about which pitched Enjolras against his friends. All he remembered was that it was heated and intense. One he hoped never to see repeated.

Its duration wasn't very long and ended with Enjolras's comment of, "a man's time is nothing but faranite so one should not waste his time arguing with fools". With that the whole café fell silent as the tension thickened and weighed down on everyone present, even those not directly involved but were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Enjolras, after having stood still as a statue with his eyes blazing for some considerable time, sweeping out of the door and into the ink black night, nearly forgetting his hat in his haste to escape the confines of the café and the proximity of his friends. He strode with purpose down the road away from the light that his friends still sat in. As he walked, the fury he experienced evaporated, leaving him feeling empty and hollow. He regretted his comment. His friends didn't deserve it. It wasn't true and he had spat it at them without thinking.

He was thinking deeply when a voice came from the side of him asking; "spare some change?" As he turned to see where the voice had come from, a fist met his jaw, knocking him over mainly through pure shock. A man launched himself out of the darkness at him and continued the attack. Enjolras had barely collected himself when the weight of his attacker fell upon him and pinned him to the ground, raining blows on him that left him confused and in considerable pain.

Semi conscious, Enjolras was dragged into the alley, his clothes becoming torn and dirty. As he laid on the cold damp floor he could hear the group talking about him. He missed most of it, but heard, "oh aye! Isn't he a pretty one!" The gruff voice which had said it then laughed as a hand was thrust into his hair, causing him to scream out on agony as he was dragged from the floor. Slammed face first into a wall, he knew what was coming and met it with as much dignity as he could. Beaten and broken, he could at least deny them the pleasure of him screaming out for help. He wanted to; every fibre in his body screamed at him to do so. Attract attention; any attention; just do it fast. But alas, his dignity would not allow him too.

He gasped and screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip hard so not to cry out in agony. One more thing he wished to deprive them the satisfaction off. One time he was slammed into the floor before the attacked continued with renewed vigor, his gasping for breath and trembling body giving them the pleasure they sought. He buried his face into his arm that rested above his head in an attempt to block some of the pain. When this was noticed, one of his attackers stamped on his hand with his heel. Enjolras gave out a guttural cry and bit down into clothing and flesh of his arm in agony. He could hear his bones breaking and dislocating.

It seemed like an eternity before it ended and he was discarded to the alley floor, the laughter and cackling of his attackers fading into the distance as they left him to die. A boot hard to his ribs by each of them was the parting gesture. He laid where he was left, devoid of apparent life, his soul shattered into tiny crystal fragments scattered like dust to the wind. Consciousness was soon lost to him as his eyes flicked shut and gave him blissful blackness. Pain could not penetrate the blackness and as he fell into the black abyss, his mind was filled with only one thought; 'I don't care if I don't ever wake back up'.

Combeferre decided to follow Enjolras after his abrupt exit from the café. He could not deny that he was worried about him. It wasn't anything out of the normal for Enjolras to be so passionate as to march out in temper about something. Combeferre had at first had found it amusing that he could carry himself in such a way. However, considering the subject that had been the source of the argument, Combeferre felt that he should at least check that Enjolras was alright. He didn't think he would be warmly welcomed though.

Bidding his farewells to his friends, he exited the café and went off in pursuit of Enjolras. He knew where his residence was so he took the shortest route to it. The streets were dimly lit and deserted but that seemed irrelevant. He walked just short of a run as he covered ground but stopped when he heard raspy, harsh breathing.

He turned and looked into the alley where the sound was coming from. He was about to turn and walk on but his conscience stopped him. If someone was in distress then he felt he had a duty to help them. Looking over his shoulder, he ventured in cautiously. There was a stink that made his eyes water and vomit raise in his throat but he continued in regardless. Suddenly his foot made contact with something.

Combeferre looked down and saw the outline of a body. His breath hitched as his eyes, which had grown accustom to the darkness, saw tangled and mattered golden hair saturated in a liquid that was shining very dimly in what little light there was present.

Combeferre's eyes widened as he looked more closely at the slender body laid on the floor before him, beaten and on death's door. "Enjolras?" he gasped, horror evident in his voice. He hoped that by some miracle the man laid so close to death in the alley was not Enjolras despite the striking resemblance.

Kneeling next to the still body, Combeferre lifted and turned him over, brushing the golden and blood coated hair back from the face to reveal once and for all if his fear was true and this was his friend who only minutes before had stood with the world at his feet.

With his discovery, his heart froze and his hands trembled.

He sat in alley cradled the broken body of Enjolras, sobbing silently.

TBC...