(Hi guys, thanks again for the support on this story. It means a lot. Here's the next chapter. I hope you'll appreciate it. Please review and let me know what you think?)

Combeferre reluctantly opens his eyes. He hasn't slept the entire night and even though he is exhausted, he refuses to stay in bed any longer. Not that he doesn't feel comfortable lying here, with Enjolras curled up in his arms. On the contrary, it feels incredible to finally be able to hold his best friend again, to keep him safe and close. It settles his heavy heart and it loosens the icy grip around his throat. Combeferre briefly wonders if Enjolras feels the same way. He doesn't believe that Enjolras necessarily feels better spending the night with Combeferre in his bed – there is probably nothing that could make Enjolras feel 'better' at this point – but he does think that it makes his friend feel a little less lonely. Indeed, it was Enjolras who came into his room and stayed there until Combeferre made room for him on the bed. That must have been a sign that the young man wanted to stay with him, mustn't it?

Combeferre yawns, squeezes Enjolras' hand softly and turns on his back. He knows his friend is awake too even though he doesn't move with Combeferre but stays curled up on his side. Combeferre lets him, allowing his friend some time to get back to himself, to rebuild the walls that crumbled down so fiercely only a few hours ago. He glances at the clock and sees that it is only eight in the morning. He can't believe Enjolras has only been here for fifteen hours. Now that he has him back again, Combeferre can't remember how it was to not have him here. Or maybe he can, but he doesn't want to. It hurts too much to even try. He knows he's going to have to contact their friends today. Not only do they want Enjolras back just as much as he did, Combeferre knows they have also been extremely worried about his own well being. When Enjolras was taken from them, Combeferre was no longer himself, but when Courfeyrac told him that his best friend had been stuck in Bergen-Belsen, a dreadful camp that was liberated two months ago, Combeferre knew he had hit rock bottom and he had shut everyone out.

He lets his head fall to the side and gently kisses the back of Enjolras' head. If he looks closely, he can see that a few strands of hair have started to curl. Combeferre hopes that they will one day form that glorious mop of hair again that is almost like a halo according to Grantaire. Though Enjolras has never admitted it, Combeferre knows he loved his hair, he always took good care of it and he always liked it when someone gave him a compliment. He doubts if Enjolras will ever care about it again. It's another one of those small things that Combeferre loves about his best friend but that will never be the same again.

"Enjolras," Combeferre says quietly after a couple of minutes. He waits for a response, but none comes. "I'm going to make us something to eat… You can stay in the bed if you want, I can bring it here. Is there anything you want in particular?"

Enjolras sighs and slowly turns on his back to look at Combeferre. His eyes are still a little puffy from crying and he looks so, so tired. "I'm not hungry, I don't need anything."

And Combeferre knows that he shouldn't smile at that. He knows that there's nothing funny about this situation. But he can't help himself, because for the first time since Enjolras' return, he recognizes the best friend he knew and loved. He doesn't know how often he has heard Enjolras say those exact words, but it has been many times and Combeferre would have never thought that there would ever come a time when he was happy to hear them. His smile fades quickly enough, though, when he sees the confused expression on Enjolras' face and he sits up straight, no longer able to look his friend in the eyes.

"You need to eat, Enjolras, you have to build up your strength. You know that as well as I do. I'm not going to force a whole meal on you, but you have to eat something. Have you even seen yourself? You're severely malnourished and you look like you can break or collapse at any time." Combeferre quickly climbs out of his bed, turns his back to Enjolras and pinches the bridge of his nose. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh and he curses himself as soon as the words left his mouth.

When he turns around to apologize he sees that Enjolras has pushed himself up as well, now sitting up straight in the bed with his eyebrows drawn together and a hurt look on his face. Combeferre lets out a deep breath and shakes his head. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to sound insensitive… I just… You need to eat, Enjolras… I need you to eat. If not for yourself, then please do it for me?"

And that seems to work, because Enjolras ducks his head and nods slowly. When he looks back up, the hurt look has still not disappeared from his eyes, but Combeferre can see understanding there as well. "Just something light then… if you have it," Enjolras mutters quietly, sounding almost embarrassed. "I can't… M-My stomach doesn't really handle food that well yet…Especially solid food…"

Combeferre curses himself again at hearing Enjolras quiet words. Of course he wasn't hungry. It was only logical and it had nothing to do with stubbornness. If his friend had lived on no more than five hundred calories a day for months on end – which was normal according to Courfeyrac, who had heard it from a returned prisoner – then Enjolras' body had grown accustomed to not eating. It had learned itself to not be hungry. Two months of freedom, with little care and lots of travelling had probably not done much to change that. Eating regularly was going to be something that Enjolras would have to learn again. Combeferre sits back down on the bed and reaches out to hold Enjolras' hand.

"I'm sorry," he says again, looking straight into his best friend's blue eyes. "I wasn't thinking… And I shouldn't have said it like that. It is not your fault that you have trouble eating… I know it's not. I'm sorry if I hurt you, my friend…"

Enjolras smiles weakly at him and shakes his head. "It's alright… And I'll come with you. I don't need to stay in bed. I'm just going to change first, if that's okay with you…" He pushes himself up from the bed and walks towards the bedroom door. Combeferre follows close behind.

"You can change here if you want," Combeferre says, trying to sound nonchalant, as he opens his wardrobe and peeks inside, "I guess my clothes will fit you just as well as your own will do now."

Enjolras turns back around and shakes his head again, blushing a little. "No that's fine, 'Ferre… I uh… I just want to change in my room, if you don't mind."

And with that he slips out, crosses the living room and goes into his own bedroom, quietly locking the door behind him. When Combeferre hears the lock turn, he understands exactly why Enjolras doesn't want to change here. He has seen the way his best friend makes sure most of his skin is covered at all times. Combeferre can only guess at the numerous scars that must be littered across his friend's body and it makes him feel sick again. White hot furry suddenly runs through his veins and wants to throw something. He wants to find the people who did this to Enjolras. He wants to hurt them, torture them, kill them. He wants to make them suffer like they have made Enjolras suffer. He has never known rage like this before, never known that it was even possible to feel this way, and it scares him. It scares him, because he can literally feel that he is losing himself and he can't afford that. Not now. Not now he has Enjolras back. So he carefully sits back on his bed again and takes a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. When his heart has slowed down to more comfortable rate, he stands again and gets dressed.

"I want to contact the Amis this morning, Enjolras," Combeferre says kindly as he and Enjolras are settled at the table, Combeferre with a plate of cheese and bread and Enjolras with a small bowl of yoghurt and some fruit. He waits for his friend to look up at him. "They are missing you terribly and have been praying for you to come home as much as I have. I didn't contact them yesterday, because I thought you could use a silent homecoming and we both know that they would've all barged in here if they knew, but now… they have to know, don't you think?"

Enjolras swallows the spoon of yoghurt and nods. "I actually thought you told them already…" He admits quietly, "I just figured they were afraid of seeing me or something." He quickly looks back at the bowl in his hands and bites his lip. That's enough for Combeferre to understand that his friend hadn't meant to admit to that. He reaches over the table and briefly holds Enjolras' hand.

"They're your friends, Enjolras. They love you. Of course they want to see you. And yes, maybe they will be a bit nervous at first after everything that has happened. Same goes for you, doesn't it? Things have changed and we will all have to learn how to adjust. But we'll make it work, I'm sure of that."

Enjolras nods once and pulls his hand away, not out of anger or annoyance, but because he doesn't want to give Combeferre the impression that he is in need of comfort or pity all the time. And Combeferre understands.

They eat the rest of their breakfast mostly in silence, both of them not feeling comfortable enough for small talk, though both for different reasons. Combeferre notices the distant look in Enjolras' eyes and he knows that his friend is lost in his mind again, probably reliving memories that Combeferre will never learn. And even though he really wants to pull Enjolras away from that dark place, he doesn't know how to do it. It feels odd to just start talking about random things. Besides, he can't even think of a random subject to talk about, no matter how hard he tracks his mind. It all feels so wrong and Combeferre knows that 'adjusting' to one another is not going to be as easy as it sounds. He hopes that maybe Courfeyrac will be better at keeping Enjolras' mind from drifting off. Their jubilant friend has a way with making people feel better.

He smiles when Enjolras excuses himself from the kitchen table and moves over to the couch in their living room. His friend stops at the bookcase and pulls out one of the novels that Combeferre always loves but that Enjolras has never given much attention to. Enjolras never really used to like novels, he preferred non-fiction books. But maybe non-fiction books weren't the way to go when one desperately needed to escape his own mind… Combeferre watches Enjolras curl up on the couch, knees drawn in and wants nothing more than to sit their next to him. Reading together, like they have done so many times before.

But Combeferre has phone calls to make. And because he doesn't have the luxury of owning a phone, he has to leave his apartment for a while and go the phone booth at the end of the street. He doesn't like it that he has to leave Enjolras here by himself, even if it is only for a few minutes, but when he tells his friend, Enjolras only nods and doesn't seem to be bothered by it at all. But when Combeferre leaves the apartment, he doesn't see the way his friend tenses up. He doesn't see how his grip on the book he holds tightens until his knuckles turn white and he doesn't see the way Enjolras curls in even further on himself.

When he arrives at the phone booth, Combeferre prepares himself for a difficult conversation. He really wants to call Courfeyrac, but he knows his friend doesn't have a phone at home either and he won't be at his work yet. So that leaves a few of their other friends. Combeferre decides to call Joly, he has known the man for a long time and he believes him to be responsible enough to pass the news on to the others and plan a visit.

"Hello?"

Combeferre smiles. He hasn't heard his friend's voice in a long time. He hasn't heard any of their friend's in a long time.

"Hello Joly, it's Combeferre."

"Combeferre? God, it's good to hear from you… We've been worried my friend. You haven't been to the meetings, you won't open your door, are you alright? Is everything okay?"

And Combeferre can feel tears forming in his eyes again. But they are happy tears. Or at least, relatively happy tears. Tears of relief. He has to swallow passed the lump in his throat and lets out a laugh.

"Yeah… Yes, I'm okay. He's back, Joly… Enjolras…"

It is silent for a few seconds and it is clear that Joly doesn't know what to say or how to respond to the information Combeferre gave him. He might not even believe it. Combeferre knows he wouldn't if their roles were reversed.

"He's back, Joly… He arrived at our apartment yesterday… I... He's alive and he's back, he's back here with us… I wanted to let you all know yesterday, but I thought it would be best to give him some space… you know, b-but.. You guys have to come…"

"Combeferre… Are you… Is he… How is he?"

Now it is Combeferre's turn to fall silent. After a few deep breaths he says: "Not good… Far from good actually. He's traumatized, underfed… Joly, you won't even recognize him when you see him… Not just physically, but mentally as well… But he's alive. He's alive and he's back and that's all I've got to focus on right now. Just… get the other Amis together and drop by this afternoon, alright? I would gather everyone myself, but I don't want to leave him alone."

"I… Y-yes, of course… God, Combeferre, I can't believe it. He's really back? A-Are you sure he can handle everyone at once?"

"Yes, he wants to see everyone. Just…" Combeferre says, sighing softly, "Just don't ask him questions about what happened… He doesn't want to talk about it…"

"Of course… I'll make sure everyone knows. 'Ferre… Tell him we love him, alright?"

Combeferre says he will and after a few more words, they hang up. He quickly walks back to the apartment, his heart feeling lighter now that he knows that their friends will be there that afternoon. This might be good for Enjolras. Seeing everybody. Knowing that they are all alive and well, that they were able to keep Grantaire and Eponine safe. Combeferre hopes this will lift Enjolras' spirits a little.

It's emotional. It's emotional and awkward and wonderful and awful at the same time.

The Amis arrive in the afternoon, along with Eponine and Gavroche. Enjolras pretends he's looking forward to their visit, but Combeferre can tell he's nervous. Combeferre is certain that Joly has prepared their friends what to expect, knows that none of them will crowd Enjolras or push him into talking or answering any questions. And he tells Enjolras the same thing, but it doesn't seem to do anything to comfort his best friend or settle his nerves.

When their friends knock on the door, it's Combeferre who opens it. The first one entering is of course Courfeyrac. He pushes passed Combeferre, hardly acknowledging him, and walks straight up to Enjolras, enfolding the blond in a bone crushing hug. He buries his head in the crook of Enjolras' neck and cries. He cries and whispers and curses. His words are hardly understandable, but one thing sounds loud and clear. "Thank God you're back." Courfeyrac doesn't let go of Enjolras when the other Amis come in to greet him. He keeps a firm hold on his friend's hand.

Most of them cry when they see Enjolras. Everyone hugs him and everyone tells him they are so grateful and so happy to have him back. And Enjolras smiles in return and tells them it's good to see them, but Combeferre can see how disconnected he feels. He can see the confusion in his friend's eyes, the desperation and he knows that Enjolras doesn't feel comfortable. Knows that his friend has lost the connection between them. Knows how hard he is trying and sees how it frustrates him when it doesn't work.

When there falls an awkward silence between them, it's Gavroche who tries to break it. He chuckles and goes to sit between Courfeyrac's legs on the floor. Everyone knows that what he says, he means in the best way possible and no one could have predicted that Enjolras would react the way that he did.

"Hey Enjolras," Gavroche pipes up cheerfully, "Did you know there are all these heroic stories about you in the city? How you didn't back down from the Nazi's and went down fighting. You're a hero man! I bet you showed those Nazi's there's no messing with the Fiery Phoenix from France, right?"

Enjolras' head comes up and he looks at Gavroche. "I did," he says quietly, "I did and they shot ten of my fellow inmates for it." His eyes widen a little when the words leave his mouth and Combeferre can see how he rigid he goes. Enjolras clearly hadn't meant to say that. The room falls silent and everyone is holding their breath. "Excuse me for a moment," Enjolras whispers and he stands up and disappears in his bedroom.

The tension in the living room is so thick, one could cut it with the bluntest of knives.

(Thank you for reading, please share your thoughts with me. I'm trying to give you all a closer look into the things that happened to Enjolras without having him actually talking about it, because I don't think that's something he would do.)