Ooh. Tension chapter…it was kind of good to write, though, because it's somewhat different than most of my others…I must have been in a rotten mood or something, but looking over it, I'm rather pleased at how it came out. It involves…angsty-ness, which I do write a lot, but not as much in this story. Anyway, thank you SO much for your kind reviews! Not ONLY is this my most reviewed story, it is also the story with the most hits, which is amazing! My goal when I started was to get fifty reviews, and I'm already at forty-nine, so HOPEFULLY I can get there! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Naturally.

Chapter Fourteen

"Well, well. Come to join the fun, have we?"

The speaker was a large and ugly man; nearly as tall as he was wide; and when he grinned it was obvious he was used to getting into fights; there were very few teeth left in his mouth.

"Now, now, gentlemen. Can't we all just –hic- get along?" Grantaire asked jovially.

There were at least five other men, similar in stature to the first one, lurking around, and they had begun to close in. Combeferre and Enjolras ended up standing back-to-back while Grantaire was trying to placate the other men.

"My, my, Marc. He's a pretty one, isn't he?" One of the men commented, leering at Enjolras. "Won't be so pretty after we're done with you, boy," he threatened.

"Please, my good fellows, why can't we…just…" Grantaire swayed on his feet before falling over in a dead faint. Enjolras snorted, and although Combeferre could not see him, he knew the other man was plainly thinking, 'I told you so.'

"We…" Combeferre gulped. "We just came to see if our friend was here. We aren't looking for a fight," he said, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

"Oh, their friend. Yes, there was another pretty boy here not long ago…wanted to get back at us for spreading rumors or something. Well, he got what he deserved, right enough." The man smirked at them and nodded to a couple of his fellows, who lumbered off only to return moments later with Courfeyrac, whom they unceremoniously dumped on the ground.

Combeferre couldn't stop the gasp that broke from his mouth, and even Enjolras flinched and muttered an astonished "Mon Dieu…"

Courfeyrac glanced blearily up at them, trying to raise himself up a little but appearing too weak to even attempt it. His clothing was in shreds, one eye was swollen shut, and drops of blood fell from his lips. He chuckled wryly before saying, "Hello, André."

"Quiet, you!" One of the men aimed a kick at his torso, and Courfeyrac winced as it connected. Combeferre closed his eyes as his hand involuntarily fastened around Enjolras' wrist, but to his amazement, the younger man made no attempt to break away.

"You're very brave to come here after your miserable friend, but I'm afraid all you'll get for your troubles is to share his fate."

"You're monsters!" Enjolras spat, his perfect features contorted by a fury so great that even Courfeyrac flinched.

" 'Monsters,' are we? Well, boy, maybe you shouldn't play with monsters if you fear them so much." The first man, Marc, drew a dagger from his belt and held it up so it reflected the light. "On second thought…you," he pointed at Combeferre. "Take that miserable creature and get out of our sight. We have something much more…amusing to attend to," he smirked, an evil light coming into his eyes.

Combeferre could hardly believe what he was hearing. They were letting him off without a scratch! But Enjolras…

"If you don't move, I may have to retract my offer," the man threatened.

"Go, André," Enjolras said in a low voice. He knew that these men were bullying cowards, but they were still not street thieves…from their accent and the way they spoke, they were not familiar with argot, and so Enjolras risked adding, "Find the cognes."

"But…you…" Combeferre's grip on Enjolras' wrist tightened.

"I'll be alright. Go. Now," Enjolras commanded, and Combeferre reluctantly let go, moving to Courfeyrac and pulling him to his feet as best he could before leaving the alley.

Enjolras turned back to Marc, all traces of emotion gone, and intoned, "Now…where were we?"

000

"Stop pacing, would you?" Courfeyrac opened his eyes long enough to watch Combeferre walking feverishly back and forth in front of him before closing them again with a groan.

"In case you have not noticed, François, I'm a little worked up at the present time," Combeferre replied. "What if the police don't get there in time? What if he…oh, God, what if he…" Combeferre finally stopped and sat heavily on the bench beside his friend. "And it would all be my fault!"

"No, it wouldn't. I was being an idiot, and it was my choice to go looking for trouble like that, not yours. I'm sorry, André. I know I said a lot of hurtful…" he cut off with a gasp.

"François…" Combeferre realized that in all the excitement, he had not even checked over his friend's injuries. "Here. Lie down," he got off the bench and knelt beside it as Courfeyrac gingerly lay back.

"Don't baby me, André," he said, attempting to smile.

"This will probably hurt, alright?" Combeferre could see most of the external injuries, and the other man could walk, but from the way he moved Combeferre knew that something was paining his friend. And he had a good idea where to start looking. Unbuttoning the other's shirt, he ran his hands gently over Courfeyrac's chest, wincing a little as his actions elicited a painful moan. "Well, it's as I thought…you've got a couple of cracked ribs; perhaps even a broken one, but I can't tell right now."

"I'm a fool, aren't I?"

"No, but you are taking up the whole seat, and I have no intention of kneeling in the dirt all day," Combeferre returned, pleased to see his jibe earn a genuine smile from Courfeyrac. "Here…" Combeferre gently raised the other man's torso, sitting down beside him. Courfeyrac leaned into him and Combeferre carefully snaked an arm about the other's waist, holding him firmly in place. "You alright?"

"Will be, I'm sure," Courfeyrac yawned, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For believing me. I thought you despised me for being what everyone said I was, but you coming after me proved you're a real friend."

"Hush. Of course I believed you; I spoke out of anger only. Now get some rest, mon frere," Combeferre replied.

"You mean that, André?"

"Of course. Same blood or not, you are my brother."

"Merci, André," Courfeyrac murmured before he dropped off to sleep.

000

"André! Wake up."

Combeferre's eyes snapped open. How could he have fallen asleep? It was evening, he noticed: the lengthening shadows were a dead giveaway. Courfeyrac let out a sleepy grunt beside him before also opening his eyes.

"André, what…" he trailed off as they both focussed on the man standing in front of them.

"You're alright," Combeferre smiled in relief. "I thought the police might not make it in time," he admitted.

"They were surprisingly speedy," Enjolras crossed his arms. "And as for Marc and his friends, they proved to be quite easily distracted. I must admit, I did not really know how to divert their attention, but it seems reciting English soliloquies does the job rather nicely," he added with a small smile.

"I had no idea Hamlet could save one's life," Courfeyrac smiled back. "Perhaps I should consider learning some speeches myself."

"Yes, I was surprised as well. But come! we need to hasten back. No doubt André still has some healing to do."

"What of Grantaire?" Combeferre asked.

"I don't particularly see why we concern ourselves with him, but I woke him up before I came here. He went off to get a drink," Enjolras responded dryly.

"Typical thing for him to do, isn't it?" Courfeyrac looked thoughtful. "Oh, but you know I shan't be able to walk any great distance," he added.

"I had considered it."

"And André is too short to carry me…"

"Can we please stop with that?" Combeferre groaned.

"And…?"

"And the only person left to carry me is…well…you," Courfeyrac finished.

"Really. I hadn't noticed," Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"But that would involve touching me in order to pick me up."

"I'm aware."

"And this…doesn't bother you?"

"I believe I will survive," Enjolras returned, somewhat frostily.

"Alright, then. Just thought I'd warn you," Courfeyrac shrugged; wincing as he inadvertently put pressure on his chest.

"Careful with him, Apollo. He's got some cracked ribs; or worse," Combeferre warned.

"Don't concern yourself with me," Enjolras assured the surgeon. He leaned over to gently pick Courfeyrac up; if he was uncomfortable, he hid it; and Courfeyrac still appeared somewhat astonished that Enjolras would do such a thing. As they started walking, the bumpy motion caused his chest to ache, and he unconsciously placed his arms around Enjolras' neck, grimacing as he did so.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes; fine," Courfeyrac forced out, although his body felt like it was on fire.

"André, wave down a fiacre. I know it's close, but François is evidently in a good deal of pain." As Combeferre left, Enjolras gently lowered Courfeyrac to his feet, keeping a firm grip on the other's shoulder. Courfeyrac staggered a little but stayed upright, and he walked into the carriage by himself when it arrived.

Dropping down gratefully onto the seat, he nonetheless raised an eyebrow when Enjolras sat beside him, but the other man ignored this.

"Don't you normally sit on the opposite side by yourself?" Courfeyrac asked, although his smile turned to a grimace as the carriage started moving. He leaned his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes.

"Do you want to, or should I?" Combeferre asked. "If you're not comfortable…"

"Stop treating me like I'm not human. What must I do?" Enjolras asked.

"Keep his chest stable; make sure he does not move around. If anything is broken, we can't risk it piecing a lung or anything," Combeferre instructed.

"I'll be fine," Courfeyrac protested.

"No, you won't be. If something goes wrong, you could die, and I'm not letting that happen," Combeferre said.

"Alright, then," Courfeyrac nodded. Enjolras carefully placed his arms around the older man's chest, making sure to hold firm enough so the bumpy carriage would not jolt him.

"Relax, François," Combeferre suggested. "Tensing up will only put more strain on your chest."

Courfeyrac nodded and let out a sigh, allowing Enjolras to partially hold him up.

Soon enough, they arrived back at the apartment, and Enjolras lifted Courfeyrac up to carry him in. "I'll take him into the bedroom; Feuilly's still on the couch."

Combeferre nodded, and they entered the building.