A/N: I am freakishly sorry for not updating, lots of homework and Writers' Block. Thanks to: unseengenius (I didn't realize I wrote about weight twice), a little fall of rain (Jehan's rescue won't be much of a rescue, and it'll be quite a while later), Bubonic Woodchuck (YOU drew THAT! You're awfully talented! Note about Grantaire fans at the bottom), Music Angel no. 24601 (How – exactly – do YOU know what the fan-girls are like? suspicious Joking), Erik's Wild Nightingale (I'm glad the vest survived too), Tsunami Wave ('Who doesn't want to "'nap" Grantaire?' Sorry, that came out wrong in my mind, lol. Note about Grantaire fans at the bottom), Beckswashere (I think I'll update) and Javerts-Wench (Yes, I did make up the quote for purposes of the story. It took me…uh…a couple seconds really, because at heart, I am poet through and through!)

P.S. Didn't someone ask for Marius? hinthint
P.P.S. If I didn't include your name up there, I'm sorry, since I wrote half of those comments 2 months ago.

Jean Prouvaire groggily awoke, raising his head from a cold floor. He squinted in the dimness of the room, and rubbed his eyes feverishly.

Is it just me, or do the walls have eyes?

Walls with eyes were a bad, bad omen.

Ah, no. They're faces looking in.

That, perhaps, was worse.

"He's awake!" he heard someone cry from outside the 'wall', which was made of glass.

"W-who are you people?" Jean squeaked in a terrified voice. All he remembered was a bunch of teenage girls knocking him out.

Were these kidnappers?

Were they going to murder him?

Prouvaire pondered this, and settled with:

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

He backed away from the walls.

A group of girls were standing in front of the glass wall, beaming at him sweetly.

"The Vice-President was right, he is pretty…" a brunette sighed, looking dreamy.

Pretty? Me?

Funny, Prouvaire always fancied himself rather masculine. You know, dashingly handsome and all.

"He's awake, Ms. President!" a new girl squeaked, coming into view with a taller, blonde teenager – the 'President'.

"Ah, good, good," she opened a door that Jean hadn't noticed before, and beckoned for him to come out, "We don't mean you any physical harm."

He didn't like the emphasis on 'physical', but he slowly walked towards the girl anyways.

"Girls, get out of here," the President snapped, and the other girls sullenly trotted off, "Now, dearest Prouvaire – may I call you Jehan? – our other…um…residents will explain everything to you," the President said briskly, standing up, "I've got to go to lunch, sorry," and she cast a remorseful glance at the poet, then left through a door, which locked ominously with a 'click'.

"Um…what?" Prouvaire finally said, his words echoing around the room, which seemed silent.

"Prouvaire?" a familiar voice suddenly called, "Jean Prouvaire?"

"Marius? Is that you?" Jean asked, shocked.

"Yes! Yes! It's such a relief to see you!" Marius stepped out of the shadows, a tired grin on his face, "It's been terrible here…I haven't seen my loved one in ages! Uh…I mean…" Marius paused, blushing, "I haven't gotten any sleep in ages!"

Jehan opened his mouth to ask about this loved one, when he noticed a horde of girls standing outside the door (there were windows on the sides). They squealed as Marius and Jehan looked around at them.

Marius and Jean Prouvaire – both being sensitive people – whimpered and took a step back.

"This," Marius whispered, "Is going to be a long stay."

"Combeferre?"

"Yes, Courfeyrac?"

"I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"Our homework."

"Again?"

"Well…"

"Maybe you would if you paid attention. And studied."

"I do pay attention! I do study!"

"Sleeping, maybe, but otherwise…" Combeferre sighed. This was the 5th time this week that Courfeyrac didn't understand their homework, and Combeferre wasn't exactly intent on explaining it all to him again.

"Will you please explain it to me?" Courfeyrac begged, his green eyes immediately turning rounder and watery.

Dieu, that boy can act…Combeferre thought, shaking his head.

"No."

"I'll do something for you!"

"What?"

"I'll…pay you!"

"No thanks."

"I'll buy you dinner."

"No."

"I'll…lend you my mistress."

"No!"

"I'll do your homework!"

"You don't understand it!"

"I'll be nice…"

"You're already nice!"

"I'll be nicer…"

"No."

Courfeyrac looked on the verge of tears – fake tears.

"All right! All right! I'll explain it to you…English, right? (A/N: They're supposed to speak French, remember?)"

"Yup."

"Okay, it's I after E except before C…no wait…hang on…C after E, except…uh…wait a minute…hmm…"

This went on for 5 minutes.

During those five minutes, Feuilly, Bossuet, Bahorel, Joly, and Grantaire had assembled in the room. Also in those five minutes, Courfeyrac had begun to fall asleep, his head resting comfortably on Combeferre's shoulder.

"Hmm…is it I or E or D or C?" the latter wondered.

Conveniently at this point, Enjolras strode in the room.

Perhaps I should correct myself.

Conveniently at this point, Enjolras stomped into the room in a very bad mood, the ground practically shaking.

"Mighty Apollo, what has induced your wrath today?" Grantaire casually asked, caressing a wine bottle.

"What's the big idea?" Courfeyrac grumbled, yawning.

"Has anyone seen Jehan?" Enjolras demanded, ignoring Grantaire and Courfeyrac.

'No' was the chorused answer.

"Bossuet," Enjolras barked, turning to Lesgles, "Did you see Jehan?"

"Uh…let me think…" Lesgles said.

"Well?" Enjolras impatiently asked.

"I might remember better if I had some money," he offered.

Enjolras forked over.

"So, did you see him?" the dazzling blonde revolutionary asked again.

"No," Lesgles replied, pocketing the money. Courfeyrac burst out into unceremonious laughter, receiving a glare from Enjolras.

"Sorry…" Courfeyrac muttered, still grinning.

"See? See?" Enjolras huffily said, "I told you they kidnapped him!"

"What? You're still thinking that?" Courfeyrac asked disbelievingly, "I thought you were joking or sick – " Joly pushed his chair farther away from Enjolras " – or something."

"Jehan's been kidnapped?" Combeferre demanded, snapping out of his 'I…no…E? Hmm…must be C' reverie.

Enjolras solemnly nodded, while Courfeyrac solemnly shook his head.

"Okay…" Combeferre said slowly, trying to decide who to trust, "Where's the proof?"

Everyone looked expectantly at Enjolras.

"The proof?" Enjolras said, blinking, "The proof? Okay, here's the proof. I was walking down the street last night, and a bunch of crazed and giggling girls chased me down the street after commenting how good-looking Jehan was. Later that night I went to see if Jehan was all right, and Lesgles is in his room saying he has no idea where Jehan is. I go out to find him, hear a shriek, and go to investigate. I look around Fan-Girl Alley, I see the same girls saying that they've finally 'got him'. I'm about to confront them, and Courfeyrac insists that they're not there, distracting me, and letting them escape," Enjolras took a deep breath, "There's your proof."

A silence fell.

"That's not really proof, Enjolras, I'm sorry," Combeferre said meekly, "Jehan might just be sick or something."

"Oh?" Enjolras challenged, "Then let's go find him."

Combeferre sighed and stood up. Everyone stared at him.

"What are you waiting for?" he said, "Let's go."

A/N: As promised, the note on Grantaire fans: It is absolutely vital that Grantaire not get kidnapped now. If he does or doesn't…well, I don't want to ruin the story for you. ;) Sorry!
- Lys