A/N: You asked for it.

Enjolras couldn't sleep.

He was lying in his bed, staring up at a crack in the ceiling which appeared to take on the form of a choking chicken.

Choking chicken, Enjolras thought dreamily, nice alliteration. I wonder if Prouvaire would like it?

Prouvaire.

The ABC member furiously smashed his pillow with his fist and rolled over. Whatever he thought, it always seemed to connect with Prouvaire. Even when he was thinking about blue cups (if you're interested, they were Jean Prouvaire's favorite shade). These thoughts aren't hinting any slash, if that's what you're thinking – no, no. Quite the contrary (Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? Ooh, a rhyme. Jean writes rhymes!). Enjolras was simply worried about his friend. He had already been ambushed by the group of girls, and they had been talking about Jean right before they found him; so, quite naturally, he was worried about the fan girls (he shuddered) finding Prouvaire.

I can't check on him now, so I guess I'll ask about him tomorrow, he rationalized.

With this thought, his mind began to calm.

He was just about to fall asleep, when he saw something at the window.

Now, Enjolras' room was on the first floor of the flat, so it was very easy for someone to climb over the surrounding hedge, and peer in his window.

Very easy for anyone.

Especially a fan girl.

Slowly, Enjolras edged closer to the window.

His worst fears were confirmed.

Two bright green eyes stared back at him from the face of the 'Informative' he saw at the meeting. When the girl saw that he saw her, she quickly jumped over the hedge and left.

Enjolras sat up uneasily, looking around his dark and slightly foreboding looking room. Questions began swirling into his mind…

I hope Jean Prouvaire's all right!

Are they after him?

Should I check on him?

And perhaps most importantly,

How the bloody hell did that girl jump over the hedge?

In his mind, the severe voice of Combeferre replied, "Language, Enjolras."

Great. Now Combeferre was stalking him too.

Enjolras pondered this. Shuddered. And walked out of his room.

Enjolras trotted quickly and quietly to Jean Prouvaire's house, feeling uneasy. He tried the doorknob, and found it wasn't locked. Feeling a sense of paranoia coming over him again, Joly's voice popped into his head, "Take deeeeeeep breaths."

Ugh.

He looked cautiously about the dark hallway, and opened the door of Prouvaire's room. This added more to Enjy's paranoia, which was already growing rapidly.

He saw a form lying on Prouvaire's bed, which matched the poet's physique. Sighing with relief, but not really sure it the paranoia had faded, Enjolras quietly called, "Jean!"

No reply.

"Prouvaire?"

No reply.

"Jehan?"

No reply.

"Prouvaire?"

Still no reply.

"GET UP YOU LAZY PIG!" he yelled, paranoia taking the better of him. Joly's advice sullenly faded.

"AAAAARGH!" the form on the bed called, jumping up, "What? What? What?" he replied.

"Lesgles?" Enjolras' jaw dropped.

"Yes, the one and only. Why?"

"What are you doing in Prouvaire's house?" he hissed.

"I'm staying at his house tonight. No where else to go," Lesgles shrugged, "What about you?"

"I was looking for him," was the icy reply.

"He should be back soon," Lesgles laid back onto the bed, "I should have known. Everything that's meant to go wrong will go wrong. Including sleep."

Enjolras left the house, closing the door behind him. Prouvaire wasn't in his house…so where was he?

The frightened revolutionary started making his way back to his house, when he heard a yelp to the right of the street he was on. Enjolras paused, turning right…towards…Fan Girl Alley…

He knew that yelp.

He had to save Jean Prouvaire from the clutches of the fan girls.

Enjolras slowly made his way to the alley to save his friend.

Little did he know, someone was following him.

Someone familiar...

Dressed in black, with green eyes.

A/N: It's not who you think it is. Or maybe it is. I'm not actually sure. It's all a matter of opinion, see?