Enjolras rested his head against the wall. He was tired, but Combeferre was still studying intensely with Joly. They had Courferyac's RV to themselves, for he and Marius had fencing practice. Courferyac went because he planned to help as an assistant coach.

Still, the setting was peaceful. He had the TV on some documentary on a failed revolution, and he had a huge can of tea in his hand. He finished studying for his AP History test, but Joly and Combeferre were only just making a dent in their studying for Health class. Enjolras personally didn't know WHY they had to study for Health, but they seemed quite focused.

Until, a few minutes after nine, a familiar and pale face burst in. "Help! Please!"

Enjolras leapt to his feet. Gavroche was standing in the doorway, more like shaking, and clutching a hand to his bleeding chest. Joly looked up and ran over, barking instructions at Combeferre. Gavroche was still uneasy, though, and he grabbed Enjolras's wrists.

"You have to help her! PLEASE!" He was near tears, and Enjolras was lost. He bent down to be at the boy's level.

"Who needs help?" He asked, cooly.

"Éponine! Montparnasse is..." He couldn't finish, and the tough little boy was suddenly wracked with sobs. Joly looked at Enjolras with fear in his eyes.

"She lives in the trailer next door... God, what the fuck is happening?" Joly cried, and since Enjolras couldn't help with Gavroche's injury, he took it upon himself to go to the trailer. He remembered the girl, and the reason why he felt bad for her. For someone so helpless to be anywhere near Montparnasse...

Enjolras shuddered and pushed open the door. Sure enough, Montparnasse was on top of a girl, who was weakly trying to push him away. The dim light kept Enjolras from seeing most of the scene, but he could smell the horrible stench of blood. He crossed the room in a few desperate steps and knocked out the drunk teenager with a singular blow to the temple.

Once her attacker was unconscious, the girl managed to push him off, and he tumbled to the ground and collapsed in a smelly heap.

Enjolras looked at the girl with concern. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, her lips pressed together and her dull eyes staring at him. Since she'd been barely a flash that day in the park, Enjolras hadn't gotten much of a chance to observe her. And here she was, the very picture of pain, someone so hurt that it was almost revolting just to think about. Her eyes were dark and yet their color could not be determined. Her hair was stringy and dirty, but had it been properly tended to it would have had a chestnut color. Her face was plain, but bore evidence of past beauty. Had her life been different, she could have been stunning. Instead, she was this bony, meager creature who stood before Enjolras as a thing to be pitied.

"Stop that." She said, and he was slightly taken aback. Her voice was strong and slightly husky, not at all what he was expecting.

"Stop what?"

"That thing that you're doing... With your eyes. Stop it." She seemed to grow quite angry, and Enjolras just looked at her with an expression that was nothing short of perplexed. And the leader of the Friends of the ABC was rarely confused.

"Sorry, I don't-"

"Judging, that's what you're doing." She hissed, and suddenly a flash of pain filled her blank eyes and she whimpered a little bit.

"Not judging. Just observing." Enjolras said, simply. He looked at her closely, and asked in a level voice, "Did he hurt you?"

She looked at him in a way that mocked his cold nature and she replied, "Maybe. What's it to ya?"

"Can I see?" He asked. She reluctantly turned around, and he drew in a sharp breath at what he saw. Her shoulder was scarlet, ripped into tattered pieces of skin, and the wound smelt of iron and whiskey. "How-"

"We were fooling around and he got a little drunk." She sighed, and Enjolras could see right through her veiled lies.

"Bullshit." He wasn't good in the medical field, and Enjolras pulled out his phone. Before he knew it, the device was smacked from his hand and went flying to the glass covered ground. "What the hell?"

"Don't call anyone." She whispered. He could tell that the blood loss was getting to her, and she trembled on the bed. "I'm fine."

"You need help."

"No one can know." She hissed, and stumbled off the bed with some difficulty. Enjolras was at her side and supported her as she went to a plastic container and pulled out a few yellowing ace bandages.

"I don't know how to-" he protested, realizing where she was going with this.

"Figure it out." She snapped, but he could tell that she was genuinely worried about her health. She carefully removed her soiled, tattered shirt and sat down facing the wall. Enjolras was unfazed by this and began to carefully wind the bandage around her shoulder. He noticed several other bruises and scars that marred her small body, but he didn't say anything. After a few minutes, she spoke up. "How's Gavroche?"

"I think he'll be fine. He's got Combeferre and Joly tending to him as we speak." Enjolras answered. He pulled back to let her know that he was finished. She turned around, not bothering to preserve any of her modesty, and he averted his eyes from her bare breasts.

She fumbled under the bed before grabbing a man's shirt, which she pulled around herself like a jacket. She looked at him, her eyes like his: ice cold and blunt.

"Make sure your friends don't say nothing either."

Enjolras was too shocked at her lack of thanks to correct her grammar. But he did manage to say, "He's still here... Where are your parents?"

"Jail. I'll probably go to Grantaire's or something. I just need to figure something out for Gavroche."

"Why are you looking out for-"

"Oh," She laughed, a bitter sound that echoed with pain. "He didn't tell you, did he? I'm his sister."

That night, Enjolras returned to his empty house. His footsteps echoed in the foyer, the darkness swallowing him whole. He never bothered to turn on the light; it would only remind him of the loneliness of this 'home'.

It was a big house, and yet only one room was regularly used. Enjolras climbed the staircase and went down the cavernous hallway to the third bedroom on the right. He opened the door, revealing a cozy bedroom that was painted red and orange. He had flags of the world lining the wall, and his bed was neatly made with a black comforter. He immediately felt terrible, remembering the conditions in which Éponine and Gavroche lived.

He made a mental note to ask if they wanted to stay with him before he collapsed -fully clothed- on his bed.

A/N: I'm not very happy with this chapter... But they finally interacted!

If I make any mistakes or typos, don't be afraid to let me know!

Review, s'il vous plaît, mes amis.