Disclaimer: I did not write Les Mis. Duh. Characters belong to the estate of M. Victor Hugo. This fanfic is just the work of a twisted mind, at three AM, unable to sleep after reading The Hot Zone. The description of the symptoms was mostly cut-and-pasted from Compton's Interactive Encyclopedia. Situations herein were created by myself.

Apologies: I know that they didn't have Ebola back in the 1830s. But this was irresistable! If learning all about Ebola is enough to give me the shivering horrors, think of what it would do to poor Joly! Actually, I think this is turning out to be theraputic. A good way to relieve trauma, writing is. Especially when one cannot go to sleep for fear of Ebola filled dreams. Eek.

"Now this, class, is one of my favorite diseases." M. Routhier licked his lips, rubbed his hands together with glee and began to lecture."The first symptoms of Ebola," he said maniacally, "appear from two to 21 days after infection. At first, you feel a headache, followed by steady fever. Once this appears, you have, at the very most, a week left to live. Soon after the first symptoms appear, blood clots form and begin to lodge throughout the body. The clots fill capillaries and shut off blood flow to parts of the internal organs, especially to the brain, liver, and spleen. The affected organs die and begin to decay. Blood begins to leak through the damaged capillaries and into the tissues. By this point, the blood flows freely, having lost its ability to clot."

Several students began turning green, and Routhier giggled at his class's discomfort. "The connective tissues lose their elasticity and become mushy." he continued. "This, along with hemmorhages in the brain, causes the victim's face to assume a fixed expression. Brain hemmorhaging also causes changes in behavior. Victims frequently act agitated and aggressive, and later on become blank and lethargic. Ebola victims in the middle stages can be recognized by their fixed expressions and bruised, yellowish skin, caused by tissue necrosis.

"In the final stages, known as "crashing and bleeding out", the body's internal cavities fill with blood, and blood leaks from all orifices and through the skin, which becomes easily ripped. Death comes from excessive blood loss and shock. The fluids flowing from the body have the bright red appearance of arterial blood, mixed with black tar-like particles. By this point, all the tissues of the body are saturated with Ebola virus. There is no vaccine for Ebola, nor is there a cure once the disease is contracted, and it is about ninety percent fatal."

By the time Routhier had finished discussing the various strains of Ebola, explained how it is contracted, elaborated further on the symptoms, threatened to show the students a picture, and finally dismissed the class, Joly's hands were shaking. "Oh my god," he thought. "I have a headache right now. And I have had a fever for several days now. With luck, my brain will not start to decay for a few more days. And what will I do at the end? If I bleed out in my room, my landlady will kill me!" Not stopping to ponder the illogic of this statement, he jammed his hat on his head and ran to Mme. Hucheloup's cafe.

"Everyone stay away from me!" he announced apon his arrival. "I have Ebola!"

He was generally ignored. The Friends of the ABC were used to such proclamations. Lesgle grinned and motioned him over to a table. Joly sat down with his friends. "I have Ebola." he repeated.

Lesgle decided to humor his friend. "What," he asked with exaggerated interest, "is Ebola?"

"It's this really scary disease you get from monkeys. It makes your internal organs melt. But it starts with a headache, fever, and flulike symptoms. I have had a headache, fever, and flulike symptoms since Tuesday, so that gives me three days. And look!" he pulled up his sleeve. "There is a bruise on my arm! My capillaries are already starting to decay!"

"Joly, you have never seen a monkey in your life." said Grantaire.

"And that bruise is from when Gavroche beat you up." added Lesgle.

"Besides, every disease starts with flulike symptoms. It could be something you've already had, like cholera or the plague." smirked Courfeyrac.

"That's not the point!" Joly was becoming belligerent. "I have Ebola! There, you see? I am becoming agitated and aggressive. That's a symptom of Ebola. It's because of hemorrhaging in my brain. Pretty soon, I'm going to be just sitting there and staring blankly! My death is immenent! And I have too seen a monkey," he snapped at Grantaire. "I was at the Tuileries with Gavroche on Monday. We went to see the monkeys, and one of them looked at me. And then, on Tuesday, I came down with a fever. I don't think this is a coincidence! I'm going home now." He ran out the door.

In his hurry to leave, he plowed into Enjolras, who was just entering. Turning around, he cried out in a voice that would have been sepulchral had it not been more of a terrified screech. "You touched me! Now you have Ebola too! Quarantine yourself!" He continued his flight out of the cafe.

Several days later...

Joly had stayed in bed for three days, and much to his disappointment, he felt much better now. His headache and fever were gone completely, and to the best of his knowledge, his internal organs were still solid and intact. Although he had looked in every textbook he had, he could not find anything to make him believe he still had Ebola. Even more humiliating was the fact that no-one had come to see him. Even Lesgle, who usually occupied his extra bed, had stayed away. "Oh well." he thought. "I can't blame them. I don't know anyone who would want the fever and the hemmorhaging, and their organs turning to mush. Luckily, I am one of the ten percent who survive." Whistling happily, he made his way to the Corinth.

When he entered, he noticed the mood was very somber. "There's no need to worry anymore!" exclaimed Joly. "I got better!"

Combeferre looked up. "At least one of you survived." he said gloomily.

"I don't understand."

"Enjolras died!" blubbered Grantaire. "We don't know of what. But it was awful! He seemed a bit pale and he said he had a fever, and then he just keeled over and started bleeding all over the floor."

Joly sat down quickly. "Oh my god! Enjolras is dead!" he wailed. "He must have caught my Ebola when I ran into him! I killed him! Grantaire, you were there... who else?" Everyone in the room raised their hands. "Did you touch anything? Oh god, you're all going to die, and it's all my fault!"

Jean Prouvaire laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Grantaire slid a bottle of brandy across the table. Soon, Joly was standing unsteadily on the table and improvising a eulogy for Enjolras that was tearful and heartfelt, if a bit slurred. "He was a brave man... and a good man. He fought to the finish, fought the virus to the bloody end." He winced and took a drink from the bottle. "That was in really bad taste, and I apologize. What I meant was that Enjolras did not allow the virus to crush his noble spirit, even when his flesh was turning to goo. Enjolras was-"

"Enjolras was what?" said Enjolras, who had just entered the room. All the students burst out laughing, except for Joly, who merely fell down. "What is going on here? We are supposed to be planning a revolution!"

"Well..." said Prouvaire. "It went like this, you see. Er... Courfeyrac, you tell him what happened."

"Happened? Um... it was Bahorel's fault."

"Hey! I was just standing here when he walked in and started swilling liquor and talking about gross diseases! He thinks you're dead or something, I think."

Joly had no idea what was happening anymore, what anyone was talking about, or even if any of them were really alive. "I ate moldy bread for dinner yesterday." he mused. "I think that's what cured me. I feel a lot better now. Not a hint of Ebola left in me! I think I may be getting malaria, though. Enjolras, did you eat moldy bread too? They told me about your Ebola, you see. I didn't mean to give it to you. Wouldn't it be great if moldy bread came in little pills? They could call it Mold Pills. It could cure all sorts of diseases. Of course, no one would eat anything called Mold Pills, but it would be nice to have. A sort of conversation piece, if you will. Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"We are looking at you like that," said Feuilly, "because we haven't a clue what you are talking about."

"Yes." said Enjolras sarcastically. "And we all have to do adult stuff now. Grantaire, leave."

"Hey! He's the one staggering around smelling like a distillery. I am perfectly sober." Everyone stared at Grantaire in disbelief. "Because he took my bottle." he explained.

Enjolras glared at Joly, who left because he could take a hint. On the way out the door, he ran into Gavroche. "Wanna go see the monkeys again?" asked the gamin, grabbing Joly's hand and pulling him down the street. "Some of them got really sick!"

Joly shuddered. "I hope Ebola leaves antibodies," he thought. "I may not be so lucky next time." Turning to Gavroche, he said out loud, "You know, I think I may be coming down with something. Something mundane this time, though. Like yellow fever. Or what do you think of a tapeworm? Or arsenic poisoning? Say, does my tounge look funny to you?"

Gavroche peered into Joly's mouth. "Yes, quite amusing." he said, as the pair disappeared around the corner.