Hey! I'm on a Shoujo Cosette TV marathon and I just watched Episode 44 - JEAN PROUVAIRE! :'( "It has been a pleasure... to have known you all..." Ohmigod, I practically died with him. It was just so... AND THAT WAS AN ANIME! Think what it could have been like on a stage! Just... just go and watch it and try not to cry. :'(

And thank you so much for all the reviews - keep 'em comin'!

I don't know how long I've been sitting here for. The nausea builds up in my throat, my vision becomes fuzzy and blurred. And then I do what I should have done ages ago - I cry. Because pain is just a sensation when it is physical, but when it hurts inside it fills you with such agony it's hard to breath. The foundations keep on crumbling and the whispers die away. I feel myself wretch and look down at my dress - torn and ridden with vomit. I try to keep my eyes open, to prove to myself I am not so weak I cannot see, but the darkness is inviting... I am not going to fight back.

...

"Azelma?"

"Leave me alone!" I shriek, not sure what is real and what is not. My heart pounds and my thoughts race.

"Azelma."

Who is it? And how do they know my name? What did I...?

"Azelma, it's me. From the café."

I look up through bleary eyes. It's the drunkard - Grantaire. But there is no stench of alcohol, and he looks... awake.

"You're sober." I whisper.

He raises his eyebrows.

"Thought I was incapable of it?"

"Very much so." A small smile flickers across my lips.

"You're bleeding Azelma." he says, bluntly, refusing to look me in the eye. Is he... is he still hurt? From what I said?

"Monseiur," I whisper, "There was a knife, and a stab and it hurt so much, but I didn't want to show I was afraid. So I ran, but there was so much blood... And 'Ponine found me and... asked me if I was OK, and... of course I wasn't... and then I asked her about... her darling Marius, and she tried to... look strong and turn away... but there were... there were tears and she left, and it's... it's all... my... fault..."

My breathing is shallow and frequent and my words fall apart like crumbling memories. I rest my head in my hands, not daring to look up. Grantaire looks stunned for a moment and then takes a deep breath.

"You were passed out, on the pavement," he says, "and I left you there. I walked past and I saw you lying there, but your words still stung. So I walked on by. And then I met your sister... 'Ponine, did you just call her? And she said that she was sure there was something wrong. And then I remembered. But I didn't want to tell her, because I didn't want to be held in any higher disdain than I already was. So... I ran back. I ran back to where I found you and took you back here, and then I realised the blood, Azelma..."

He rests his hand on my forehead.

"You're burning up," he continues, "and I'm no medical genius, but I'm pretty sure that's... not good. You need a doctor."

"I'm not seeing a doctor, Monseiur!"

"You are bleeding, retching and practically on fire. Of course you are seeing a doctor."

"I won't. He'll pry into my private business and ask questions I won't know how to answer... just one more night, Monseiur! One more night!"

He sighs.

"I'm largely going to regret saying yes, aren't I? But just one. Because I am not sleeping on the floor for more than one night."

"Oh no, I'll happily sleep on the floor! I'm used to it!"

"I suppose the gentlemanly thing to do would be to decline your offer... But yes, you can sleep on the floor."

...

I wake up in the small hours of the morning, thrashing around and covered in sweat. I jerk into a sitting position, and a burst of pain ruptures through my side. I let out a strangled gasp and take a deep breath in. I look across the room to where Grantaire sleeps on the bed. Two empty bottles lie on the floor. Sober? Ha! Not for long. Cautiously, I creep out of bed, taking care not to lean on my injured side. Taking a solid grip on the door handle, I wrench it open and slowly tiptoe downstairs. Breathing in the night air, I step out and let the breeze cover me. Ignoring the stench of blood and sickness, I let my hair fall back in my face. This is what I was born for. Midnight whispers. I close the door behind me and start to limp down the road.

I am going home.