Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Mr. Victor Hugo

Enjolras knew something was wrong.

It started with the fatigue. Halfway through a meeting of the Les Amis, he had to resist the urge to not sit down and take a breather. But he was their leader, their revolutionary. He couldn't afford to be tired. When he came close to even considering the thought, he could almost hear the cynical comments Grantaire would toss his way. Something along the lines of how could he lead their group into a triumph if he couldn't even finish the speech he had written.

Then there were the nosebleeds. They were few at first, easy to blame on the change in weather. But then gradually they started occurring about twice a week. So often in fact Enjolras started carrying a few extra handkerchiefs in his coat pocket.

The most concerning development however were the number of bruises he would find all over his body when he would dress in the morning or take a shower. Enjolras knew about bruises. He'd been given enough by his father to last a life time. By the time he was fifteen, Enjolras became an expert at hiding his bruises (even if it meant dabbing into his mother's make up), but at least he had known where those bruises had come from. These ones seemed to pop out of his skin like hives.

And that is exactly what Enjolras was doing on that Monday morning before class; examining a new bruise-and a rather large one-near his ribs

"Wow!" Combeferre said, making Enjolras jump. His roommate's image appeared behind him in the bathroom mirror, "How in the world did you get that?"

"Courfeyrac was clowning around," Enjolras said quickly, the lie rolling of his tongue with ease (after all Enjolras was a pro at lying about his bruises), "He tried to spar with me, and ended up shoving me into a table."

"Geez." Combeferre said, getting out his toothbrush, "I must have missed that. He really has to be more careful. We can't let our leader being broken before the rally in a few days."

"Yeah." Enjolras mumbled, putting on his shirt as quickly and as carefully as he could. "I'll try to stay in one piece until then."

"We better get you some coffee then." Combeferre joked smoothing down his short hair with a comb. It was a well known fact between the two that Enjolras couldn't function without his coffee.

"I'm ready when you are." Enjolras said, leaning against the door, secretly glad for the moment of calm.

"Come on, let's get your vice." Combeferre teased gently brushing past Enjolras.

Enjolras sighed, did his best to shake off the feeling of tiredness he could feel already overtaking him, and followed his roommate out the door.

About ten minutes later the two roommates reached Café Musain. Most of their friends were there already, including Courtfeyrac who came up and poked Enjolras hard in the side, making him jump, and causing Combeferre to frown at him.

"You're too rough sometimes." Combeferre said, shaking his head before making a beeline out the door. Combeferre was never late to class.

Courtfeyrac who never really paid mind to anyones scolding just shrugged and shook his head before bouncing off to bother Marius, who was struggling to carry his coffee and his girlfriend Cosettes.

After glancing at the clock on the wall and Enjolras realized he had about ten minutes to kill before class. Glad for the break, he sat down at en empty seat at the table his friends consistently occupied. He was pulling out his textbook to read ahead a little when Joly, a friend and a medical student who felt as though he already had his license, leaned over and felt his forehead.

"Joly, get off." Enjolras batted his friends hand away from his forehead, "What are you doing?"

"You look pale." Joly answered, "And you look tired. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Enjolras shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "I'm fine."

"Have you been sleeping well?" Joly pushed, "Going to bed at a decent hour?"

"Joly." Enjolras said, doing his best not to show his annoyance and perhaps his own concern, "I'm fine."

"Well, come to me if you feel worse. I might be able to prescribe something for you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Enjolras muttered. He felt his frustration flicker slightly at the sound of a snicker Grantaire gave from across the table. Enjolras shook off the wave of nausea that had just hit him, and headed off to class, grateful to avoid the list of things Joly would insist he might be having/catching/going to get.