Once again, sorry for the last chapter being so dark! I promise it gets happier now! It also gets a bit fluffy. But what's romance without a little fluff, really?

Feuilly woke the next morning with a splitting headache, in an unfamiliar room. He groaned and rolled over, hoping that he wouldn't find a strange woman next to him. It hadn't happened before, but he had heard horror stories from other les amis. Thankfully, Feuilly soon realized that he was on a couch and not a bed. In a vaguely familiar living room. His mouth was dry, and he got up in search of a drink.

"Finally awake?" Courfeyrac came down the stairs.

"Unfortunately," Feuilly replied, "Do you have any water? I'm dying of thirst."

"Of course," Courfeyrac said kindly. Then he added impishly,

"You look like hell."

"I feel like hell," Feuilly groaned, sitting back onto the couch as his friend left the sitting room. He buried his head in his hands, feeling terrible. Courfeyrac returned with a glass of water, and he gulped it down. Without asking, Courfeyrac refilled it. Feuilly sipped it slower this time.

"So," Courfeyrac began carefully, "what are you going to do about this girl?"

"I don't know," Feuilly said miserably as the memories of the day before flooded his mind, "I'm no good at things like this. I've never cared so much for anyone in my life."

"Not even your sister?" Courfeyrac asked slyly. Feuilly shot him a dirty look.

"What? She's quite pretty. And I'm sure she'd be prettier in that dress you were telling me about. In the sunset. Your drunken speech about her set quite the scene."

"Fine. Perhaps I do care for Eponine as more than a sister. What of it? She's gone for good. I'll never see her again after I spoke so terribly of Marius."

"You could seek her out," Courfeyrac suggested.

"Where would I look?" Feuilly said hopelessly.

"Ask around. Find out where Pontmercy lives. Talk to him, ask if he's seen her."

"I don't know, Courfeyrac. It all seems so hopeless. She's so in love with him. And I…I don't even know if I'm in love with her! I care for her, yes, but I've never been in love before," Feuilly rambled, wringing his hands in frustration, "how am I supposed to know?"

"I don't know. I'm told that when you're in love, it just feels right," Courfeyrac said, shrugging.

"I'll find Pontmercy, then," Feuilly decided, "and see if he'll lead me to Eponine."

"That's the spirit!" Courfeyrac cried, slapping him on the back. Feuilly winced.

"Oh, sorry!"

"Not so loud, please," Feuilly said, covering his ears, "I think I should get home and change before this quest for my lady fair."

"Excellent idea," Courfeyrac said, lowering his voice dramatically, "I'll see you at the next meeting. Good luck, Feuilly."

"Thank you, Courfeyrac. I have a feeling I'll need it," Feuilly replied dryly. In truth, he had little hope of finding Eponine. He had a feeling that she would be extremely good at making herself scarce if she wanted.

His brain was still trying to process the idea of being in "love" with Eponine as he trudged home. Despite his still throbbing head, he felt as if a million thoughts per minute were rushing through his mind. Feuilly shook his head, trying to make sense, and was rewarded with a renewed rush of pain.

Thankfully, Courfeyrac didn't live terribly far from him, and he was soon close enough to see his stoop. And the pile of trash on it. Who would leave their trash on his steps? He felt extreme annoyance; nothing was going right this morning.

As he got closer, it seemed to be a pile of laundry. This confused Feuilly even more as he approached. Yes, it was laundry, with a green dress on top. And a head, and arms…

"Dear God," Feuilly whispered, breaking into a run. He knelt over the girl on his doorstep, rolling her from her side to her back and confirming his worst fear. It was Eponine, her new dress ripped to pieces and her shoes gone. When he touched her she was icy cold, and bruises darkened the pale skin of her face.

He bent his head down over her slightly parted lips, and placed a hand against her chest, nearly collapsing with relief when he felt breath and a heartbeat.

He unlocked the door and scooped her up, bringing her inside. For an instant, he considered laying her on the hard, barely padded bench that served as his couch, but instead took her to his bedroom and laid her gently onto his small bed.

Eponine whimpered, but didn't wake, and he dashed into the kitchen to dampen a rag. Her clothes were filthy, and bloody in places, and he wondered if she would be more comfortable in one of his shirts. Just the thought of undressing her made him blush, and so he began to wipe the dirt from her exposed skin, his hands shaking, wondering what the bruises were like under the fabric.

When Feuilly ran the damp rag over her face, Eponine stirred. Her big brown eyes opened slowly, and he saw fear in them. When she saw him, she recoiled hard, nearly falling out of bed. He caught her and held her against his chest, whispering to her softly.

"Shhh, Eponine. It's me, Feuilly. I'm not going to hurt you."

Her trembling fingers reached up to trace his jaw, and twist themselves into his shirt, holding on as if for dear life. Her lips opened and closed, but she seemed unable to speak.

"Listen to me, Eponine," he said gently, "Do you think any of your bones are broken?"

She shook her head.

"Do you need a doctor?"

Her lips formed the word "no", and she shook her head again.

"I'm going to bring you some water and a cloth and some soap, and leave you one of my shirts. I want you to bathe and change while I make some tea and a little food for you. Just open the door a little when you're done. All right?"

She shook her head violently, clinging to him more tightly. Her lips moved, and she whispered almost inaudibly,

"D-d-don't leave me 'ere alone."

"Why not? Nothing will harm you. I'll only be gone but a minute."

"Do you p-romise? That nothing can 'urt me?"

"I promise," Feuilly said, looking into her eyes and seeing fear, but also trust. He kissed her forehead and left, fetching the water quickly and leaving her alone.

Eponine stripped off her dress, and took time to wash properly before changing into Feuilly's clean white shirt. It hung on her thin frame, and was long enough to cover her decently. She sat gingerly on the bed, still sore.

Feuilly came in a few minutes later, bidding her to lie down and bringing her tea and a loaf of bread with some cheese. He sat with her while she sipped the warm liquid and nibbled at the food, noticing with satisfaction that she had stopped shaking. Now that her face was clean, the bruises didn't look quite so bad, and he had gotten a glimpse of her legs. They weren't as bruised as he had feared, although Eponine would be quite stiff for a few days.

She ate very little, and soon pushed the food away, concentrating on the tea.

"You're not hungry?" Feuilly asked, worried.

"I'm more cold than anythin' right now," she replied. He went to the closet and fetched another blanket, covering her gently. She smiled for the first time. A small smile, but a smile that made Feuilly inexplicably happy.

"Thank you. I don't deserve this."

"Yes you do. You deserve more than this. I wish I had ten more blankets to warm you, and a softer bed with more pillows for you to lay on."

"This is more than I ever expected. After Monsieur Mar-" she seemed to choke on the name, "after 'e abandonded me to Montparnasse, I lost faith in everything."

"Pontmercy did what?"

" 'E…well, it's a long story."

"I have nowhere to go," Feuilly said grimly, perching on the edge of the bed, "tell me."

"I…well after you an' I had that row last night, I ran off to…to his house. An' 'e wasn't there, so I went to her house to find 'im. I was waitin' outside for 'im to see me in my new dress, an' me father's gang came up. Said they were going to rob the place. Me father asked where I'd gotten the dress, an' I told him I'd been doin' work for a young man. Montparnasse, bein' the brute that 'e is assumed…" Eponine blushed, "assumed the worst. So then they set about tryin' to rob the place and I screamed. To warn them. I wish now I 'adn't," she admitted bitterly, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.

"An' the rest of the gang took off, but Montparnasse, 'e's 'ad his eye on me for awhile. Mon- he came out of the 'ouse and told Montparnasse to 'unhand that lady'. But when 'e saw it was me," she swallowed against a lump in her throat, tears springing unbidden to her eyes, "An' Montparnasse told 'im I was crazy. 'E believed 'im. And 'e let 'im haul me off, like I was nothin' better than them crazy old women that 'ang out by the docks," she whispered the last sentence miserably, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them.

Feuilly scooted closer to Eponine, carefully putting an arm around her shoulders. He could guess what had happened after she had been dragged away from Marius. He expected her to recoil, but instead she responded by cuddling closer into him, pressing her thin frame against his. He could feel her sharp bones through their clothes.

Feuilly felt a fierce rush of emotion clutch at his chest. All he wanted to do was protect this fragile creature, to treat her as she deserved. He wanted Eponine to never have to feel fear or hurt ever again. He wanted to hold her and not feel her ribs.

"I want to take care of you, Eponine," he said softly.

Ooooh cliffhanger!

-giggle-

Next chapter soon, I promise!