A/N: Two chapters done in one day! Been a long time since I've done that. This pairing is Bahorel/Feuilly. I think it's fair to say that there's gonna be swearing, and this will be a modern AU. Also, mentions of drug use and possibility of OOCness.

We should never have really crossed paths. We had nothing in common. He was younger than me, smarter than me. He shouldn't have ended up here in the gang infested Clubhouse, drinking, gambling, causing trouble. He could have made something of himself, but after a lifetime of watching those around him failing to escape poverty, he gave up.

I kept an eye on Samuel Feuilly, curious. He couldn't be more than twenty. He'd finished school a couple of years ago with good grades, but his teachers had encouraged him to persue an apprenticeship or something similar. They'd told him that a young man of his background 'would struggle to finance further education' - something he complained bitterly about when he was drunk. Otherwise, he was quiet and reserved, the youngest apprentice of Patron-Minette after Montparnasse had caught the eye of some rich housewife. He'd seen her advances, threatened to tell her husband and blackmailed a fortune from her. He was in Spain, last I'd heard of him.

I didn't get involved in gangs. Well, that's a lie, but I was never part of one. I drifted between them, a free agent, I borrowed money from them, did a few jobs when I was strapped for cash or slow at paying back a debt. Patron-Minette had never required my services, and in honesty, I was a little intimidated by them. I'd met most of them, but their enigmatic leader was nothing more than a whispered pseudonym with more blood on his hands than a butcher.

I drank with them, though, never talking about work. It was how Sam came to my attention. It was obvious that he didn't belong, right from the start. But as months wore on, he became better and better at what he was doing. He was a quick thief, and soon gained a reputation for it. After a year, he'd never been caught. After two, rumours began circulating that he could work as quickly as Claquesous. By the time he was twenty-three, whispers sprang up that he would replace Claquesous - apparently the shadowy leader was planning on retiring, taking a lifetime of ill-gotten gains and disappearing. That would never happen. The benefits of working quickly meant that Sam had never spilt blood, and I doubted that he could. We'd become closer over the three years. I'd be hard pressed to call us friends, with so much distrust in the Parisian backstreets, but if I saw him, we'd go out for a drink. And, while I was a passing acquaintance to him, I fell in love with him.

It was hard not to. I could see in him a goodness that the others didn't posess. He refused jobs that were based on pointless revenge, couldn't hurt a fly. He seemed so out of place that I couldn't help but focus on him, and with him always in my line of sight, I couldn't help but fall for him.

One afternoon, I was sat in the Clubhouse playing a bit of poker. I was doing OK, earning another few bottles of vodka. My phone rang, as it always did when I was trying to relax.I didn't check the number - it would be blocked. "Christophe Bahorel."

"Christophe, it's Reyard." Reyard was the head of Patron-Minette's biggest rival. I tried not to get involved too heavily, reluctant to take sides, but a job was a job, and Reyard paid over the odds.

"What's the matter?"

"That little rat of Patron-Minette's, the one who replaced Montparnasse, he slept with my son." Smart boy. Reyard's son was a gorgeous man of about twenty-five. And it meant that Sam was gay. But then I realised. Reyard was protective. Sam wouldn't be allowed to get away with this.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know! Fucking castrate him for all I care, just make sure he keeps his filthy hands off my son. But for God's sake, don't kill him. I don't want to risk this spiralling out of control. A hundred thousand if you do it."

That was a lot of money. And refusing Reyard would put my life at risk. I didn't have to hurt him seriously, just enough that it was clear I'd done my job. Besides, there was no future for us anyway. He was just a young man I'd been admiring from afar. I had no choice, really.

It was two days before we were both at the Clubhouse at the same time. I followed him, far enough behind that he didn't hear me, glancing at him occasionally; I wasn't sure I believed people coud feel when they were being watched, but better safe than sorry. I picked up my pace, little by little. Finally, I was close enough to pull him into an alleyway between a cafe and some clothes shop, both closed. There was no-one around.

"What the fuck do you think you're..." I clamped a hand over Sam's mouth.

"Keep quiet. I will remove my hand. But if you try to say another word or scream for help, I will punch you in a way that will paralyse your vocal cords." I was pretty sure that I couldn't actually do that, but he nodded all the same. I removed my hand and he stayed silent, looking up at me with wide eyes, filled with betrayal. Well, that's what he gets for choosing this life.

I watched him for a moment, curious as to his reaction to this situation. It was a stupid thing to do. Sam was no great beauty, but he was far from hideous. And everything I tried to put to the back of my mind came rushing back in an almost overwhelming surge of emotion. And stupidly, unthinkingly, I leant forward and kissed him.

He started to struggle and panic. It wasn't an overreaction. I had, after all, dragged him into a deserted alleyway, told him not to scream and kissed him. "No, I'm sorry, don't panic. I won't hurt you, I swear."

I couldn't now. I knew that. "Just follow me, please. Trust me."

"Why should I?"

"Or you'll end up dead for sleeping with your rival's son. Come on." I took him to Gabriel Courfeyrac, an old friend of mine. He gave me a place to crash when I needed it, and was not stingy with his large amounts of inherited health. In return, I obtained certain illegal recreational drugs for him. We kept score of favours, and at that moment, I was one or two up.

"Chris! Good to see you. Why don't you introduce me to your charming friend. No, wait, I have another favour to ask you. I'm running a little low..." Gabriel constantly seemed like he was high on something. Maybe he was, or maybe I just had no patience for hyperactive people. He was the only one of the few users I knew who genuinely didn't seem to have a problem. It just seemed to be a form of recreation for him, rather than a need. But then again, I could have misjudged him again.

"Gabriel, I'll get you whatever you want, but I need a massive favour. This is Sam. He needs to disappear, or we're both in trouble."

"For how long?"

"Forever. He deserves better. Find him somewhere to live, a job, just get him out of this. I swear, I'll get you and your girlfriend whatever you want."

"Anything you want, mon ami. I'll be in touch."

"Make sure he isn't." I tilted my head at Sam. "Don't give him a chance to come back."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Sam asked almost tentatively, still a little scared and confused.

"No. Because if you're sensible, you'll agree. If you don't agree, you're clearly too messed up in the head to be making this decision."

"Christophe..."

"What?"

"You kissed me."

"Forget it. Forget me. If Reyard ever finds out I didn't hurt you, we're both dead."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you're better than us. Don't spout bullshit about how you're a criminal, the same as us, because you're not. I always saw it, I fell for you because of it, but this is a fresh start for you. Don't let anyone tell you you're less than them." I was just rambling now, and I realised a moment too late that I'd just confessed my feelings to him. Oh, what did it matter now? I left before he got his head round any of what I'd just said.

He'd be better off. It wasn't too late for him to go back to school, go on to do great things. After all, he had no criminal record to speak off. I told Reyard I'd scared him off, and he accepted it when there was no sign of Sam in days, weeks to follow. He didn't come back - clearly Gabriel had talked sense into him.

Gabriel was fortunate. He was the heir to a fortune, had the world handed to him on a silver platter, and was frankly a spoilt brat. But his girlfriend, Jeanne, adored him all the same. Well, he was almost a prince, he was guaranteed a happy ending. So was Sam, an innocent soul faced with adversity. I had to be satisfied with this, still caught in a web of criminals, but I'd saved him from this. Maybe that was enough.