Chapter IV: The Dark side of Paris

~~***~~

The carriage rattled to a stop under a flickering streetlamp, casting black shadows in the murky light. The poor looked at the carriage at wonder, but dropped their gaze when the passengers stepped out -just some more rich boys looking for a bit of fun on a lonely winter’s night.

“Okay, here’s the plan-“ Enjolras started but was interrupted by the howling wind.

“Jesus! I hate this weather.” Courfeyrac whined pulling his collar up to his ears.

“I wish I brought another coat.” Jehan shivered and tried to latch onto Courf, but was shoved off.

“I don’t think this is safe.” Combeferre wiped his glasses free of the snowflakes that were blurring his vision. “I would rather not freeze to death – how about we get back into the carriage and-“

“No! You promised me you would help.” Enjolras stated icily. The others looked at him in despair, but complied.

“Fine.” Courfeyrac hissed through his chattering teeth, “What are we going to do, oh mighty leader?” Enjolras glared at him and ignored the sarcasm. Before he could speak – the tipsy flirt suddenly laughed. “Hey, how about we just-“ Before the others could object he shouted in a booming voice; “Joleigh! Joleigh Accord! We have come to rescue you-”

“Shut the hell up!” Enjolras clamped his hand over his friend’s mouth. Heads had turned in their direction. The leader stiffened awkwardly and kept his tone low. “None of the shouting okay? We’re going to do this quickly and quietly to not attract attention. Got it, Courfeyrac?”

“Yes. Fine.” Enjolras removed his hand; Courf wiped his mouth with the back of his with his own.

“Okay, so tell us the plan.” Jehan asked.

“We’re going to split up.” This brought immediate objections.

“What? You can’t be serious – I’ll get mugged.” Combeferre stuttered.

“Such a wimp.” Courfeyrac laughed.

“Shut up! You can’t leave him by himself.” The intelligent student sniffed. “You don’t know what he’ll do to the poor women that are selling-“

“Such things are so sad.” Jehan cut in. Enjolras felt as if he would slap himself.

“Concentrate!” He snapped and his friend’s immediately went silent. “Okay, I know I can’t trust Courfeyrac around this part of town, so Jehan, you go with him.”

“Oh come on~” Courfeyrac complained.

“What? Is there something wrong with me?” Jehan demanded.

“No! God, No!” The flirt stammered.

“Good.” Jehan sniffed, then latched onto Courfeyrac. “Let’s go then.”

“Right, you two take that lane-“ Enjolras pointed to the opposite side of the street. “ It’s where Joleigh appeared, just in case she goes back there. Keep going until you reach he next junction, if you find nothing – return here. If you think of anywhere else, go there. Understand?” The pair nodded, and hurried off down their directed alley. Enjolras turned to Combeferre. “We’ll go down the alley I saw her disappear.”

“Enjolras-“ Combeferre caught his arm before he could start, looking at the homeless. Their eyes were shrouded by darkness making them appear demon like. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Enjolras gave him a bemused look. “I mean, look at them…”

“Come on ‘Ferre.” He said simply, shrugging of his friend’s grip and carried on his way. After a few paces, Combeferre was following.  It was hard to see in the darkness.

“Enjolras, wait up.” Combeferre hissed; trailing after the dark coat he saw billowing. “Enjolras! Hold on-“ The snow was sticking to his glasses again – and by the time he had paused to clean them again – Enjolras had disappeared.

~~***~~

  She had just found a place to rest for the night, a damp nook in a wall sheltered by some disposed and empty wine caskets; when she thought she heard someone calling her name. A shout that sounded far off, one that echoed off walls. Joliegh froze. Was that my name? No, it can’t be. Nobody knows I exist. However, just to be careful (but also thinking of Montparnasse) she crammed herself further into the wet nook, shrouding herself in the darkness and tucking her feet behind her bag. Joleigh waited, scared and cold, expecting the dandy to explode out if the shadows and attack her. Nothing else came, and Joleigh relaxed. It was probably some drunk letting the wine go to his brain.

Moments later a group of drunken men scrambled past, hollering and jeering. Joleigh made sure that she was out of their sight. Like Montparnasse told her, she knew that in her current state it would be easy to be taken advantage of; especially if it was five to one. Joleigh grimaced. Truthfully, she wondered that if she exposed herself to the men, would the young murderer come to her rescue like he had always talked about? Was he really her protector? No. He's an abusive liar and a compulsive pervert. Look what he did to you! You can't trust him! Her conscience advised. But Joleigh couldn't help this feeling of warmness whenever 'Parnasse crossed her path, you know, before he would get harmful and deceitful. When he was nice, no girl could help being attracted to him, but then it's too late when she falls into his bloody grasp. Joleigh knew how to play him, but was always cautious.

A gust of wind howled through the damp dankness, rattling the rickety wine caskets. The laughter of prostitutes and their men lit up the night, Joleigh tried to ignore it by closing her eyes and tucking her frozen face into her bruised knees. Her head suddenly felt as if it were falling off. She groaned, knuckles whitening as she clasped her legs tightly through the pain. This is what happened if she starved – but it was getting increasingly worse as the days went by. One day, Joleigh thought sadly, one day I’m going to die from this. Her mouth was dry, and her palms were clammy. She was falling ill.

~~***~~

"Combeferre?" Enjolras hissed through his teeth as he cautiously stepped through the darkness of the large alleyway. “Combeferre, where the hell are you?” There were dirty prostitutes in the corners, eyeing him up and down with their hungry yet desperate eyes. It was the right time, the peak of the night for these poor girls to sell themselves to petty drunkards. I hope to god Joli is not one of them, please tell me she hasn't- Enjolras frowned and avoided their piercing gazes as he trudged past, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. Combeferre must have abandoned him, or perhaps gotten lost – there was nothing Enjolras could do about it.

"Now there's something you don' see ever'day!" one prostitute cackled from somewhere along the wall.  

"Hello sweetie, come for a bite?"

“Pardon, madam…” Enjolras muttered an apology and picked up his pace. But the woman were everywhere, on every turn, every bit of the alleyway wall. And the comments continued. Like before, Enjolras ignored them politely and cursed his clothes silently to himself. 

"He's a fine thing ain't he!" 

"Look at those curls, what I'd do with me fingers in those -" 

"Wonder if he's golden down there too-" Enjolras turned a bright red and walked even faster, only looking up from the ground to search for Joleigh. This was without luck. He doubled backwards, down the original alley where he saw her disappear and tried again. No luck. Enjolras sighed and stopped. He didn't realize he was walking so fast; his breathing was rapid and his legs sore. All he wanted was to see Joleigh and talk to her and possibly help her. The young man rested against part of a cold brick wall to gather his senses back. A couple of drunkards stormed past him, swaying and clinging onto each other, crying out for 'nightly services'. Enjolras looked at them in disgust. The next people who went past him were a young pair of girls, prostitutes, but young. He looked at them with pity, their shabby dresses only spiced up and cut to suit their job, their hair was disheveled but still attempted to look attractive. One girl was wearing hers in am elaborate bun, the other in a blonde...braid. Enjolras did a double take then dashed after them. 

"Joleigh!" he cried. The girl didn't turn around. It definitely looked like her, from the back at least -same tattered skirt that I saw...she's the same height... the same figure though a bit skinnier - god what has she been through! Maybe she can’t hear me. "Joleigh! Joli, stop! It's me! It's-" he had caught up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, panting and beaming proudly. His face fell when she turned around in shock. It wasn't her.

“Monsieur?” The girl stammered in a husky voice, her small grey eyes terrified. She was not Joleigh, just another poor girl, picked on by stranger. Enjolras spluttered out many apologies before spinning on his heels and trudging back to the street in embarrassment. Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm.  

"Enjolras?" he knew the voice. That sweet voice he could remember so well. He knew it was she before he turned to face her.

~~***~~

Hey! I finally updated! Isn't this swell! I know, I've been taking forever - but the Les Mis challenge sort of takes up my writing time and also since it's SUMMER I have been travelling...sometimes to places with no internet (gasp!)

Yeah, so, as per usual - what do you think? Yay? Nay? They found eachother - whoop whoop!

But - you never know when Parnasse will jump out of the blue and slice you with a knife!

...need to find a picture for the side thingy...

-Kat/Grantaire xx