Sooo I updated this thing again finally! I would have had it up yesterday, but I went to go see Iron Man 3 and after that I kind of forgot about it :P (Shame on me I know) It took me a little bit to edit and revise this chapter so it may not be the best! If its a little cheesy I apologize but I tried! As usual thanks to everyone out there who had read and reviewed it means a lottt and is helpful! Hope you enjoy! (:

Combeffere had long since finished speaking, and once more Enjolras had found himself standing, about to go over plans that he had just laid out in front of him, when the door had burst open rather unceremoniously. The abrupt noise had caused everyone, including himself, to stop and turn. Two figures stood in the doorway and it did not take him long to see that one of them was Éponine. At first he was confused and for the life of him, could not imagine what she was doing there. Every so often she would sneak in and fetch Marius and they would leave together, but she had never before appeared before all of them so blatantly. But it soon quickly dawned on him from the look on her face, that something was wrong.

His eyes fell upon the second figure standing closely behind Éponine. It was Mariélle. What was she doing here? He asked himself this question, as a whirlwind of other thoughts ran through his mind, but they all soon quickly disappeared. She was hurt. By that time it was nearly too late, as his eyes finally processed what he was seeing. As the color drained from her face, she smiled weakly at him in recognition. Seconds later she slumped to the floor.

Almost instantly, chairs were pushed away and the voices of the others grew loud as they rushed to the doorway, himself included. Éponine was already down beside her, shaking her arm in an attempt to revive her. He managed to push past the others, until he too, was by her side. He quickly knelt and soon saw what had been done to her. The right half of her face was bruised a dark purple and rivulets of crimson ran from small cuts.

Rage. For a moment, it was the only emotion he could feel, and briefly all he could see was red. Who had done this to her and why?

"'Ponine, what happened?" The voice of Marius brought him out of whatever trance he had fallen into and taking a deep breath he managed to temporarily compose himself.

For perhaps the first time, Éponine ignored Pontmercy. Her attention was still focused on the unconscious girl in front of her.

"Enjolras isn't this the mademoiselle from the other day? Your friend, I mean?" It took him a moment to realize that Courfeyrac was by his side, but turning his head he nodded gravely. Looking up, he saw that the others were confused and he assumed that Courfeyrac had not told them anything. But now was not the time for introductions.

He looked back down at Mariélle, before turning and finding the face of Combeferre. "Is there somewhere else she can be put for now?" To everyone else his question may have sounded brash and rude, but in honesty it was not meant that way at all. "I mean is there somewhere more comfortable…?" He chose his words carefully this time and stared up at his friend for an answer.

"Uh…yes. I mean yes. This way." Combeferre started to move, and the other young men quickly parted to clear the way.

Wordlessly, Enjolras quickly lifted the seemingly lifeless girl off of the ground before following Combeffere. As he carried her, he noted how light she felt and wondered when the last time she had had a decent meal was. She remained almost unmoving in his arms and the side of her face that was not battered, appeared so pale that for a moment he might have mistaken her for dead. The thought of it temporarily alarmed him and his arms for that instant, became more possessive in their hold around her. But he quickly regained himself and with his resolve strengthened, followed Combeffere through a door into a small room, which he assumed served as sleeping quarters. There was a wardrobe in one corner and a simple wooden chair next to a small bed in the other, covered in books which were soon quickly removed so that Mariélle could be placed upon it. Reluctantly, he set her down carefully and saw that she still had not stirred. Combeffere then left, quietly shutting the door behind him, in an attempt to give them some privacy.

Éponine had followed close behind him, as well as someone else. Looking, he saw it was Joly. As usual the countenance of his friend was of a nervous demeanor, and in his hands he fidgeted with the medical bag, that although was the source of many jokes, he insisted be brought with him everywhere in the events of an emergency. Until tonight, Enjolras did not realize how much he appreciated it.

"I am going to make sure she is alright and see if she has any internal injuries." The voice of his friend was serious and lacked any of the anxiety that his body physically displayed. He then took long strides over to Mariélle, before removing his coat and adjusting his sleeves. Opening his bag, he rummaged through it before one by one, pulling out small bottles of disinfectant and bandages. Afterwards a transformation of sorts occurred. The look of unease disappeared from his face completely and was replaced with an air of confidence, and the hands that were seconds ago restless, became steady. As he became immersed in his work, Joly achieved a sort of calmness that Enjolras had only seen when he was around Musichetta or Lesgle.

"Do not worry, she will be alright." Éponine spoke to him for the first time, directly and her voice was soft, but still did not completely rid him of the concern and anger that coursed through him.

"Please tell me what happened." For the first time in minutes he spoke and looked at the girl next to him for an explanation.

For the next five minutes she relayed to him everything that had transpired and what she had seen and done. Once she had finished, the anger he had felt returned stronger and had turned in itself, into a blinding fury. At the same time he also felt sickened and disgusted. It took every fiber of his being to not go running off into the streets, to go search for who had done this to her and kill the man himself. No, whoever had done this was not even a man. No word foul enough could come close to describing what he was. Violence towards women was something that he could never tolerate. Every day on the street, he saw the faces of those women who had no doubt been beaten by drunken husbands or fathers, and he felt the same anger that he did now.

"It is a shame that we had to meet again under such circumstances." Éponine finished speaking and turned her gaze to where Joly was now examining Mariélle.

"Do you know who did this to her?" He found himself asking after a moment of silence.

"I do not know his name, but I have seen him perhaps once or twice before. He frequents the taverns and brothels that I know for sure. I have also heard stories about him and his companions and what they have done to some of the girls," her voice grew quieter and she shifted her eyes to the floor, "trust me, monsieur you do not want to hear what they have done."

Before he could speak again, Joly turned and made his way back towards them with a serious yet slightly relieved expression.

"She is going to recover. Nothing is broken, but she will be in pain for the next few days and I suggest that she remain indoors for that time. Right now, I suspect that she is in shock but she should awaken at any time." With that said he wandered back to her bedside and began collecting the items he had used and put them back into his medical bag.

"I did not know where else to take her, I figured this would be the safest place and I assumed that you perhaps knew one another already, but if not I am sorry if I caused any trouble." Éponine spoke to him once more.

"Do not apologize, what you did was right. In fact you most likely saved her life and for that I thank you." He meant every word that he spoke and in return she gave him a faint smile.

"I must leave now, I was out looking for my brother to give him some money," She referred to Gavroche as she made her way to the door, "If I stop by tomorrow, will you tell me how she fares?"

"Yes I will and once more thank you." She gave a small nod in return after he spoke, before quietly exiting the room. As Joly finished gathering up his supplies, Enjolras sat down in the chair beside the bed and looked down at the still unconscious girl. The small lacerations on her face no longer bled and had been cleaned and slight color had returned to her face. She no longer appeared to be near death, but only perhaps sleeping, her breathing soft and her body more relaxed. He offered words of thanks to Joly before he left the room with his coat and bag in hand, who in return hastily responded, his nervousness once more returning as he left.

The rage he felt disappeared momentarily as he stared down at her and realized that she was going to be alright. Especially the moment when she began to stir.

Mariélle felt like she was lying on something very soft. A bed perhaps, which she thought was strange since she always slept on the floor. As she grew more aware of her surroundings, everything that had occurred came rushing back to her and she remembered where she was. Almost instantly her eyes fluttered open and she sat right up, regretting it when a stab of pain shot through her head. Momentarily blinded, she gently rubbed at her eyes slowly until her vision once more returned. Looking around her she saw that she was in a small room with dim lighting that was provided by a few candles lit here and there. At first it gave the room a rather eerie effect, as the flames of the candles flickered, providing strange shadows upon the walls, but she decided it was mostly her mind playing tricks on her and soon the feeling left her all together.

"Do not try moving so fast."

She nearly jumped at the sound of the voice, but turning to her side she saw that it was only Enjolras. The erratic beating of her heart slowed and she took a deep breath. His expression, as usual, betrayed nothing, she thought she could detect hints of concern but was not certain.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he slowly stood up from the chair he had been sitting in, and moved towards the center of the room with his back towards her. It appeared that he was staring out a small window overlooking the street.

She gently touched the right side of her face with her hands and winced. She no longer had the taste of blood in her mouth, but was could tell that there was bruising and slight swelling. But in regards to how she had felt earlier, she wasn't in as much pain.

"I am alright; I have felt worse than this before." She tried to speak in a reassuring tone, and weakly smiled, remembering the time she had fallen out of a tree that her mother had warned her not to climb. But she had climbed it anyway after a challenge was given to her by one of the boys on her street that she had wanted to prove wrong, and as a result she fell and had broken her wrist and ankle.

The smile soon vanished when Enjolras turned and she saw that his expression was cold. It even appeared almost dangerous. In a way it intimidated her because it was a look that she had never seen on him before. "I am alright, I swear." She spoke again, but this time the reassurance in her voice was joined with confusion.

In three strides he stood in front of her, towering over her in fact. It was then that she could finally see the anger and lividness in his eyes.

"Who did this to you?" She had expected him to yell or shout, but his voice was quiet.

She did not answer at first, simply because she did not know how to. He did not know Adrien or what he was capable of, something that she herself did not know until this very night. She did not answer she supposed, because she wanted to forget that it had happened or what he had nearly done to her, even in her mind she knew it was not rational to do so.

"It does not matter, I am fine. I really should be getting home, Amélie has been waiting and she is probably frightened by now." She remembered the little girl who no doubt was wondering where she was and she began to stand, but since he was standing right in front of her and was not moving, she was forced to sit back down.

"No. Tell me who it was." He asked again, he was still quiet but his voice was more urgent and she could see the rage plainly in his eyes now.

"It does not matter," she began to speak once more, "because there is nothing that can be done about it. That is the truth of it. If I ever go near him again he would have me arrested." Even though her voice was calm, she felt tears brimming in her eyes, but with the back of her hand quickly brushed them away before he could see them. "I am alright though and he did nothing else to me. That I owe to Éponine and he got what he deserved." Once she spoke, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of her chest, not only could she breathe easier, but she felt better.

Slowly, he sat down next to her with an almost defeated look. Something twisted inside of her and it pained her to see him look that way.

"He deserves much more than that." This was all he said, and looking down Mariélle saw that his fists were clenched.

Silently, she placed her hand on his forearm. At first he started, but then he relaxed and his hands soon became unclenched and rested flat on the mattress beside him. "Things happen and sometimes we cannot explain why they happen, but everything will be alright." She repeated the old saying her mother had often spoken to comfort her father when he could not find work or was in a depression, because it felt fitting to say.

She heard him take a deep breath, before turning to look at her. She saw that most of the anger had left him and he appeared much calmer. For a moment they stared at one another quietly, in the close proximity that they were both aware of.

As if remembering himself, he quickly looked away with his face, now slightly reddened. Sliding his arm from underneath her hand, he then stood. Looking down, she took it as a sign that she should probably leave.

"Amélie is waiting. I should be on my way." She took her time to stand so as not to become lightheaded again and found her shawl that Éponine must have set beside her.

"You are not well enough to leave yet." He said rather suddenly and gave her a disapproving look.

"I do not have a choice. I cannot leave my sister alone, as you are aware of." She countered as she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and made her way to the door.

"Then you are not going out there alone." He followed her, and as they left the room she swore she could hear him mutter the word "Stubborn."