Enjolras wearily coughed into his pillow and groaned at the strain it caused his throat. He guessed it must be about three o'clock now...wonderful! He had been unable to stay asleep for more than a couple of hours and this was the third time he'd woken up. He coughed again, and shot a nervous glance at Combeferre, whose bed was against the opposite wall. Luckily, his friend appeared to be sleeping soundly, undisturbed.

With a sigh, Enjolras buried his head further in his pillow and desperately attempted to go back to sleep. It did not take too long before he eventually succumbed to slumber, but even then he tossed and turned, coughing in his sleep, from then until sunrise. He did not wake again until he was disturbed by the sound of a gentle voice calling him:

"Julien! Julien! Come on, wake up! It's after nine!"

"What?" Enjolras almost leapt out of bed, frantically pushing his tousled hair out of his eyes. It was not that he had any classes that day, he just simply never slept that late – it was a waste of time that could be put to some better use. "Why did you not wake me Etienne?"

"I thought you needed the extra sleep," Combeferre was standing in front of him, with his arms folded across his chest. "Now get your shirt off!"

"I beg your pardon?" Enjolras froze, his blue eyes going wide with alarm as he watched his friend pick up his blasted stethoscope. Enjolras knew enough about medicine to realise that the invention would do wonders for medicine, but honestly! Combeferre was like a child with a new toy!

"If you think the way you coughed and groaned all night escaped me, mon ami, you are sadly mistaken!" Combeferre said, his jaw set stubbornly. "You are not tired, Enjolras, you are ill and it is no use telling me otherwise! I'm a medical student, remember, and I'm your best friend! You cannot lie to me that easily! Now, you are going to let me look at you and if I think you need it, I'll send for a doctor." Much as Combeferre trusted his own abilities, if his friend's health was at risk, he would feel much more at ease letting a qualified doctor tend him, as a practising doctor could provide medication that he himself, as only a student, could not obtain.

Enjolras sighed in defeat and peeled off his shirt. Usually he was the stubborn one, but there was no point in arguing with Combeferre when his eyes were flashing the way they were now! He cast his shirt aside and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Right, breathe in." Combeferre said solemnly, as Enjolras shivered at the touch of the cold bell of the stethoscope against his skin. To his credit, he did co-operate patiently as Combeferre moved the bell across his chest, listening to his heart and lungs. However, he jumped at a sudden prod to his stomach.

"Ow!" he said, frowning as Combeferre did it again.

"Sorry Julien, I'm almost done. I was just double checking that it wasn't appendicitis. I didn't think it could be, not with that cough anyway, but still – better safe than sorry!"

"Appendicitis?" repeated Enjolras in horror, beginning to get desperate. "Etienne, I promise you, it is just a cold mon ami – nothing more! Please do not worry about me. I am sure I will be fine by tomorrow."

Combeferre bit his bottom lip thoughtfully as he felt Enjolras's forehead, stepping back again a second later to allow his friend to cough. His temperature hadn't been as high as he'd expected it to be. Combeferre saw the blue eyes watching him almost fearfully and sighed. Very well then, they'd have to compromise.

"Julien, I'll take your word for it today," he said earnestly. "But if your temperature rises, or I think you are any worse tomorrow – so help me, I'll send for a doctor whether you like it or not! Clear?"

"All right, all right!" conceded Enjolras with a slight cough and a roll of his eyes.

"And you needn't bother rolling your eyes like that!" smirked Combeferre, cuffing Enjolras around the head affectionately. "Just accept my superior wisdom and get yourself dressed. I'm just off to post my letter to my parents, and then I am going to meet Christophe. We need to compare notes on the functions of the carteroid artery. I'll see you for lunch in the Lemblin at noon, oui?"

"Oui," Enjolras got to his feet again and stretched. "See you then."

Combeferre hurried out of the bedroom and put on his jacket, fastening the buttons quickly. He seized his pile of papers and was just on his way out of the door when he was stopped by a hesitant call.

"Etienne?" Enjolras was standing in the bedroom door. He was looking somewhat embarrassed, and a slight blush stained his cheeks.

"What is it?" Combeferre was unused to seeing his normally eloquent friend so lost for words.

"Thank you…for caring," Enjolras replied, the sincerity in his eyes speaking louder than the discomfort in his face.

"It's a good job I do, for you take poor care of yourself!" laughed Combeferre teasingly. "Truly, Julien, I do not know what you'd do without me!" And he ducked out of the door before Enjolras could think of a reply.

Bested, Enjolras smiled to himself and went back to the business of getting dressed.

It had been decided the day before that Enjolras and Combeferre had would meet Joly and Prouvaire at the Café Lemblin for lunch and, thinking that the fresh air would do him some good, Enjolras decided to take a stroll beforehand. His head felt even heavier than it had done yesterday – though he would have died before admitting that to Combeferre! The last thing he wanted was for his friends to think him weak!

Wearing his warmest jacket, Enjolras set out with no particular destination in mind but, as he walked there most days, habit had made him head for the law school. It was in reasonable proximity the café anyway, so the journey would not take him far out of his way.

His thoughts were firmly fixed on the essay he'd avoided starting last night when he actually passed the grand old building where he and Courfeyrac attended their classes, so he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings. However, when he heard a pompous voice call his name, he was snapped straight out of his musings and his first instinct was to run as fast as he could in the other direction.

Pierre Leroux, one of his classmates was heading straight for him, an ignorant smile on his arrogant face. He was one of the few men in Paris whom Enjolras really despised. He made Grantaire's drunken speeches sound like Voltaire in comparison. Not that Leroux was a drunkard – he was just an idiot!

Oh, good God! thought Enjolras sarcastically, bursting into a fit of coughing again. Just what I need – this fool on top of a sore throat and a fuzzy head! Give me strength!

"Ah, Julien old chap!" called Leroux eagerly, bustling up with the practised air of one who was incredibly busy. "How are you? What did you make of old Artoire yesterday? You know, I was just saying to Henri…"

Enjolras sighed and resigned himself to his fate.

So it was that Enjolras walked into the Café Lemblin ten minutes late with his eyes flashing like lightening and an angry flush on his face. He headed over to where his three friends were sitting at their usual table and joined them, sitting down next Joly, giving his order to the waitress that Courfeyrac was currently keen on.

"Bonjour Enjolras!" beamed Prouvaire, full of good nature as usual. "You are looking better."

"I'm feeling better, thank you Jehan." Enjolras lied, forcing a smile on his face. "Forgive me for being late, mes amis. I ran into Pierre Leroux."

Combeferre laughed heartily at that, while Joly shook his head in sympathy. Prouvaire, meanwhile, looked confused.

"Who?"

"A classmate of mine." Enjolras explained, his disgust for the man in question very plain. "Though how an idiot like that managed to end up at studying the law is beyond my comprehension! He makes less sense than Grantaire does after a bottle of absinthe!"

"I have a very simple answer to that, mon ami," said Joly wryly. "His father can pay the tuition. He's the Vicomte de something or other…of course they won't deny his son entry to the law school."

"The system is all wrong!" said Enjolras heatedly, his colour rising again. "He will never make a lawyer! They are simply wasting a place which could have been given to someone more deserving. When I think of poor Feuilly, who's taught himself to read, taught himself to write and has an intelligent and considerate contribution to make to the world, having to scrounge a living making fans when he could be so much more if only he had the money! It makes my blood boil! It's so unjust! I wish we could do something about it!" He began coughing again, this time a lot more violently than he had before.

"Calm down, Julien!" said Joly anxiously, though subconsciously leaning away from his coughing friend, desirous of avoiding germs. "Come on, take a deep breath."

"I wholeheartedly agree with you, my friend," said Combeferre, as their soup arrived. "The world is unjust. Feuilly would do well if only he had the money for the education. The privileged have such an unfair advantage!"

"Let's not talk of that right now," said Prouvaire wisely. "The purpose of the meeting tonight is for us all to have a night to relax, but if we keep talking about the injustice of life, we shall all end up in a fury. Let's put it off until after tonight."

"Quite right, Jehan, as always," smiled Combeferre, as Prouvaire smiled shyly. The young medical student then turned his attention to Enjolras, worried about the violence of his earlier coughing fit. However, he was satisfied to see that at least his friend was eating.

"Just before we change the subject," broke in Joly. "The talk of money has reminded me – Julien, will you please try to make LeClair see reason tonight? He is pretty much starving himself to pay his rent, and he sold his locket the other day – you know that that was all he had left to remind him of his parents. Etienne and I have both told him he can borrow, but he's as stubborn as you are and he is too proud to accept! Please talk to him. He respects you; you might change his mind."

"All right," said Enjolras, refusing to be offended at the comment on his stubborn nature. "I'll have a word with him. I hate to think of him living in poverty when he deserves so much better!"

"Good," smiled Prouvaire, his green eyes shining. "With that sorted, we can look forward to an enjoyable night!"