Disclaimer: I checked my birth certificate just to confirm it – I AM NOT VICTOR HUGO.

A/N Thank you for the people who have read this but I really need reviews! Did you love it, hate it, have you seen it before and could suggest some changes?

Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Four

"Where am I and what happened to me?"

Everyone in the room looked at everybody else, no one quite certain how to begin. In the end, it was Courfeyrac who broke the silence.

"Somebody attacked you late last night," he said, his normally light teasing tone replaced by a much gentler one. He sat down in the chair by the bed so he was not looming over her as much. "My friend," he gestured behind him to Enjolras, "heard your…" he hesitated, "your screams… and found you in an alley. The man who attacked you was long gone I'm afraid."

Nobody was quite sure if she had heard him as, when she had caught sight of Enjolras, she had fixed him with a thoughtful stare, as if trying to place him. "I feel as if I've seen you before…in a dream...," she said softly, almost to herself.

Enjolras felt incredibly uncomfortable under her stare, a sensation he was not familiar with at all. Holding political rallies and meetings, he had got used to people staring at him, especially as he looked the way he did. So why did she have this effect on him?

"I think we should probably leave our patient in peace, crowding her will not be doing her any good," Joly motioned towards the door.

Courfeyrac rose to follow Enjolras and Grantaire but the girl's voice made them all stop.

"Thank you, to all of you," her eyes were beginning to drift shut as Margo helped her to lie back down. Despite her earlier lucidity, the pain from her injuries and the stress of her fight with Combeferre were taking their toll. Margo stayed behind, saying she wanted to make sure the girl got to sleep peacefully.

The five students went their separate ways after that, all but Grantaire heading to classes. Joly promised to alert Dr Dupont about what had happened and they all agreed to meet up at the Musain that night.

For Enjolras, the day passed slowly. His politics class he could pass standing on his head, but his professor, a grouchy and cantankerous human being by the name of Acerbe, had taken a severe dislike to the blond revolutionary after Enjolras had whipped the class into a roaring debate that had resulted in several punch ups (led by Bahorel who happened to be in the same class) and small fire (not started by Bahorel, at least not intentionally).

For him, the day only really started when he walked through the doors of the Café Musain and mounted the stairs that led to the second floor. He took the left hand corridor and gave particular knock before opening the door.

Almost everyone else was there. Joly was examining his tongue in a pocket mirror he always carried, Bahorel was arm wrestling with Grantaire, Bossuet was nursing a split lip, and in the corner sat a solemn looking young man reading a law textbook.

Enjolras made his way over and patted the young man on the shoulder, "Marius, it's good to see you. We missed you at the last three meetings."

Marius smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "I apologise for my absence, but my translation work got backed up. The choices were either to run out of money or miss a few of the meetings. Not all of us can survive on one meal every three days, Enjolras."

In Enjolras' personal opinion, the dilemma could have been easily avoided if Marius spent more of his time actually working, instead of wandering around Paris in a romantic or melancholy mood, spending entire days doing nothing but musing. However, upon closer inspection, he noticed that Marius looked less well than normal. His usually pale skin was so devoid of colour that the dusting of freckles scattered across his cheekbones and nose stood out like tiny pits on his face; there were dark rings under his eyes and he looked far too thin.

When Marius Pontmercy had originally joined the group about three years ago, Enjolras hadn't been quite sure what to make of him. He was young, naïve, infuriatingly air headed on occasion, and was above all a stubborn Buonopartist. He also had not endeared himself to Enjolras by falling head over heels for some girl that he had seen at the market in the months leading up to what Enjolras thought would be the revolution in '32. However, even he could not help but feel for Marius when the girl's father had moved them to England with no warning at all. One day she had been there, the next she had not. There had been no address left for his letters to be sent to. Enjolras was certain, that if there was a walking example of a broken heart, Marius Pontmercy was it.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly for everyone. Most of it was spent explaining the events of the night before and this morning to the Amis who had not been present, or were worried about the girl's condition. Enjolras briefly managed to steer the conversation towards the rally they were organizing for the next week, but then Jehan offered to come over to the apartment and read the girl some poetry whilst she slept, to which Enjolras politely declined. Unfortunately, Combeferre then mentioned that he had been reading a medical paper discussing the idea that reading to patients that were unconscious was not so strange after all. Joly disagreed. Three hours later and they were still going. Another evening wasted.

Margo was waiting for Enjolras when he got home. She was sat in one of the armchairs knitting, probably something for one of her many grandchildren. Her kind face broke into a smile at the sight of him, but she placed a warning finger to her lips for him to be quiet.

"Bonjour, Enjolras. She is asleep," she whispered, gathering her things and preparing to go.

Enjolras felt a mild panic, and a small amount of annoyance, that he was to be left alone with a dangerously ill girl. "Did she wake up again today?"

"Once, this afternoon, but only to drink again, and to… answer the call of nature."

He felt himself flushing. She smiled understandingly and moved towards the door.

"Wait!" he said, careful not to raise his voice, "What if she wakes up? I don't know what to do."

"Monsieur Joly said he would be round later. Bon nuit," She shut the door behind her.

Leaving him alone with the girl.

Mentally telling himself to get a grip, he pushed open the door to what had previously been his room; in a sense still was for all of his things were still in here. She looked more peaceful than she had that morning, and less like a corpse than the night before. Her skin was regaining some colour but was still far too pale. He silently prayed that she would stay asleep for the chances of Joly arriving inside the next two hours were highly unlikely and he had no idea what he would do if she woke up in a panic again like this morning.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, he began to transfer all of his possessions into the other bedroom, padding backwards and forwards in his stockings to minimise the noise. Transferring the books took the longest; there were just so many of them. His clothes, on the other hand, only took two trips. The only item he couldn't transport was his desk, it being far too heavy for him to lift alone and the noise it would make would be enormous. Instead, he sat down at it and began to work on a new pamphlet idea he had for the rally next week. A short while later he sat up to give his eyes and his wrist a rest, briefly looking around the empty room on a reflex, suddenly realizing how cold and clinical his apartment was. Books, clothing, a few pieces of furniture, and that was all. No real personal items or 'homey' touches. He shook himself, surprised and annoyed at his sentimentality.

"Focus, Enjolras, stop wasting time and focus," he muttered to himself, snatching up his pen once more, almost violently.

"At least I can now put a name to my angel."

Her voice made him leap out of his chair with a yelp of surprise. "Mon Dieu!"

She flinched away from him, sending an involuntary ripple of pain across her face as she aggravated her injuries. He was still gasping from shock and hardly heard her next words.

"Yes, I imagine you see him on a regular basis, angè." She looked back over at him cautiously.

Enjolras stared. Had she just made a pun about his name? Here she was, lying in a strange apartment, seriously injured, and she was making jokes!

She smiled at the look of surprise still on his face before slipping back into the pain free relief of sleep.

Enjolras set his chair back upright, having knocked it over due to his hasty exit from it, and tried to settle back into his work. However, his nerves had been irrefutably set on edge and every few seconds he would glance over to see if she once again awoken. She didn't move in the hour he was sat there, only the steady rise and fall of her breathing assuring him she was alive. In the end he abandoned all hopes of working and instead sat and regarded the girl over steepled fingertips.

What have you got yourself into now, Julien? He thought to himself.

A/N Okay, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it was pretty good fun to write. I was going to have her be introduced to all of her carers, but after what she's gone through, her recovery will be slower than that. Promise not to drag it on for too long though.

Just a question: would people be interested if I did a fiction based on Marius and Cosette's story? I've only got a rough idea at the moment and I probably wouldn't start it until the end of this one, but do you think it's a good idea?

Until next time mes amis!

Libz