Doisclaimer: je n'ai pasles droits d'auter sur Les Miserables et tout ses associes.

Besoin de menage

Jeanne followed her host closely up a dark staircase. Seeing as there was no noise coming from the stairs that she was climbing, she could safely judge that the building was well kept. Appartments in buildings this well kept cost small fortunes. Charles had a room in a slightly less kept place, at which she went to have tea on Sundays after church. Her heart clenched at the thought of her brother. Her world seemed to be crumbling around her.

"We're here."

Enjolras opened the door, and sighed with content. His apparement was just as he left it. With every possible surface covered with books. He turned to invite his guest in, and found her on the ground, tears streaming down her face. He had never been good with emotions, so was at a loss as to what to do.

"Are you alright?" He asked, the silently scolded himself. She was crying. Of course she wasn't alright.

Jeanne looked up at him, and suddenly burst into sobs. Enjolras was confused as to what he had done. Women had always been a mystery to him. It had never occured to him that the reason for her distress was greif.

"Why don't you come inside and I'll make you some tea?"

She nodded weakly, still in tears. He helped her up and lead her into the cluttered flat. Looking around, he noticed that there was no place for her to sit. It took him a moment to locate his old divan under all of his drafted speaches, papers and books. Pushing its paper occupants to the floor, Enjolras sat Jeanne down on the divan, that despite it's battered appearance, had hardly ever been used. Once he had done that, he made his way over to the kitchen, which mainly consisted of a counter, water tap and a gas stove. 'Where in the world is that kettle?' He thought. To be honest, Enjolras wasn't even sure that he had a kettle, but faintly he remembered one lying around. After a few minutes of searching he found it, on the windowsil of all places.

Jeanne watched through teary eyes as the student ran around. Had she not been so distraught, she may have found it amusing. But she wasn't amused. She was in despair. Everything used to be certain in her life and now, the cards were in he air and Jeanne feared where they might fall. She wouldn't be able to live with the hospitable man who had taken her in forever. He would grow annoyed of her eatting his food with no income.

"Tiens. I'm not very well versed in gastronomy, but the tea should be drinkable."

"Merci."

She brought the cup to her lips and cringed at the taste. He wasn't lying when he said he wasn't well versed in gastronomy, she'd even say that his culinary skills matched those of a rat.

"Umm, do you want to talk about it?"

"My brother...and now the conservatiore. Everything's gone! I don't know how to do anything! I can't stitch, and have no qualifications for anything! I'm a half trained signer who can dance well enough!"

Enjolras hadn't expected her to want to speak and had caught him off guard when she had. Her fears were rational, and he could see no way to comfort her. For once Enjolras would've welcomed Grantaire's company. He was much better at socializing and prbably could've found something appropriate to say to the girl.

Meanwhile Jeanne was scolding herself. She knew that he had only asked because he was being polite, yet she couldn't stop herself from telling him her worries. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself.

"I am sorry, Monsieur, I do not know what came over me."

Her host nodded and she noted that he looked somewhat releived that she had dropped the subject. For one so charismatic, he seemed awkward around people. Balanceing her cup on her knees, Jeanne looked around for the first time. She wondered if Enjolras could find anything in the mess that was his home. It definately needed some cleaning. Quite a lot of cleaning.

"Well, you can take my bed, I suppose."

He pointed to a door that probably lead to the bedroom.

"Where will you sleep then?"

"Le divan. Seeing as it now has nothing on it, I can use it.

"I can sleep on the divan. You have class tomorrow and need your rest. I'll be fine."

Enjolras had opened his mouth to protest but seeing the girl's hard stare, he knew that there would be no convincing her.

"Alright then. I'll get you a pillow and blanket. Feel free to use the water closet, over there."

"Thank you."

She got up, placeing her cup on the paper covered coffee table and made her way to the washroom. It was like any other, but Jeanne felt joy when she realized that there would be no older girl yelling at her to hurry up. She wondered if this was the one room that wasn't covered in papers and books. Not wanting to impose, she merely washed her face in the sink, useing a cloth. 'This room too, need to be organized-and cleaned.' She could hardly see herself in the mirror because of the layers of grime. Leaving the room once she was done, Jeanne was surprised when a shirt was thrust into her arms.

"One of my shirts. To sleep in. Bonne nuit."

Jeanne couldn't help herself; she giggled. He was such an awkward man. A kind and awkward man.

"Bonne nuit!" She called after him as he closed the door to the bedroom before returning to the washroom to change.

The shirt reatched mid-thigh and she was glad the her host had gone to bed. It would have been scandalous if he had seen her. 'Why are you still concerned will scandal, Jeanne?' She asked herself, 'you are homeless, and sooner or later will end up on the street. Being proper really is the least of your worries.' Sighing Jeanne said her prayers and layed her head on the pillow provided for her. It was softer that anything she had ever had, except perhaps as a child, when she was living with her family. She pulled the blanket under her chin and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.