Hi guys! I've got another update for you :) It's unbeta'ed because I wanted to get this chapter up and done with. All mistakes are mine.

Combeferre gently wiped the sweat on Enjolras' forehead away. Meanwhile, he talked to him. He spoke soft and sweet words of encouragement in the hope that his friend would wake up. But Enjolras stayed deeply asleep.

Combeferre still couldn't believe how different their wake turned out to be. Only hours before, he had been planning a funeral. His mind was already practicing the conversation he'd have with Enjolras' parents. He had thought about what kind of coffin Enjolras would want and how they'd move forward as a group after Enjolras was gone.

And then suddenly, things took a turn for the better. Where Enjolras had been still and quiet for the first half of their wake, he'd started moving and mumbling in the second half. Neither Combeferre nor Courfeyrac understood what Enjolras was saying, but they guessed their friend was stuck in some kind of dream. A little later on, Enjolras started sweating more and more and to Combeferre's great relief, his temperature seemed to lower. The medical student had kept a close eye on Enjolras' temperature from then on and after a few hours he was certain to claim that his friend's fever had broken.

A miracle.

So unbelievable that Combeferre needed a second opinion. That's why he sent Courfeyrac out of the room to get Joly. And that's were they were now.

"What's the good news I hear?" Joly said in a hushed voice as he entered the tiny bedroom. "His fever broke?"

Combeferre looked up and smiled at his friend. He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure of it… His temperature has lowered and he's sweating quite a lot. But I need you to check if I'm right. We've been so close to losing him, I'm afraid I'm imagining things. I need to hear you say that I'm right." Tears suddenly sprang to Combeferre's eyes and he ducked his head in an attempt to avoid being seen.

But Joly did see it. He took a moment to really look at Combeferre and Courfeyrac and his heart broke. They both looked so exhausted and to the point of collapsing. Dark circles surrounded their eyes and Joly could've sworn he saw tremors go through Combeferre's body. He'd guess that his friend's muscles were literally shaking from the exertion of keeping him upright.

"Sure, 'Ferre. Don't worry, that's why I'm here, am I not?" Joly said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. He squeezed Courfeyrac's arm and gently pushed his friend in the chair next to the bed. Then he moved to Combeferre's side and bent down to take a closer look at the pale blonde in the bed.

He reached out to brush some wayward curls from away and then lay the back of his hand against Enjolras' forehead. It was still too warm to the touch, which meant that the infection had not yet given in. But Joly couldn't deny that Enjolras' was definitely cooler than he was the last time he checked up on him. Apart from that, Enjolras was indeed sweating and that was a good sign. It meant that his body was fighting hard to get rid of the fever and the infection.

Joly couldn't help the small smile that spread across his lips. He locked eyes with Combefere and then reached out to squeeze his friend's shoulder. "You're right, mon Ami," he said softly. "He's indeed much cooler than he was. I believe his fever is breaking still. And that is such, such good news."

"He'll be okay, right?" Courfeyrac piped up from his chair on the other side of the bed. Both his hands were locked around Enjolras'. "It means he'll be okay? He'll live?"

Joly sighed. He met Combeferre's eyes for a second and found the same knowledge in there that he held in his heart.

This brief exchange did not go unnoticed by Courfeyrac and before Joly could respond, his smile faltered and he had trouble suppressing a sob. "What the hell was that?" he asked quietly, looking from Joly to Combeferre and back again. "Why did you look at him like that? Enjolras will be okay, right? If his fever is breaking, he'll be okay! He's fighting."

Joly tried to offer Courfeyrac a somewhat reassuring smile. "Calm down, Courf. Like I said, it's such good news that his fever is breaking. Indeed, it means he's still fighting. But though I'd want nothing more than for us all to believe he'll be okay, we must be realistic. His fever is down, yes, but his body is still too warm. The infection isn't gone yet and if Enjolras' health falters, it could still claim him. All I'm trying to say is that the fight isn't over yet. He's still incredibly weak and he's lost a lot of blood. The road to recovery is long. And though he's beaten one huge obstacle, he'll have miles to go. I just…" Joly paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I just don't want us to get our hopes up. Not while he's still hanging on by a thread."

Courfeyrac frowned. "Get our hopes up? I've never lost my hope anyway. He'll be okay, just see. Right 'Ferre?" The usually so jubilant young man looked at Combeferre for support.

Combeferre looked at Courfeyrac and then back at Enjolras. His friend looked so young. He brushed his hand across Enjolras' forehead and swallowed. Joly was right. Though his fever had lowered significantly, it wasn't gone and it could still spike at any moment. He wanted nothing more than to comfort Courfeyrac and tell him he was right, but he couldn't. Not yet .

"Joly is right, Courf," he started quietly. "This is good news, but his fight isn't over yet. We'll need to keep a close eye on him. If I could just get him to wake up.. If I could just talk to him so he could tell us how he feels and what he needs." Combeferre squeezed Enjolras' hand. "Why won't you wake up, E? I need to see that you're doing alright…"

"He'll be alright." Courfeyrac said again, but this time more to himself. "You can say whatever you want, but I know he'll be alright. Enjolras doesn't give up. I believe in you, E. Don't you worry. You'll be okay, I know you will."

Joly's heart ached at the sight of his two friends. They were broken, that much was clear. And he feared – not for the first time – what would become of their group of friends if Enjolras didn't make it through. Would they still fight for their cause? Yes, of course. But would their spirit still be the same? Joly doubted it.

He cleared his throat to get rid of the lump in his throat and brushed a lone tear away. "We all believe in him, Courf," he mumbled. "If anyone can fight his way back from this, it's Enjolras. I just… I just want us to be prepared."

He tried to offer both his friends a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Neither Combeferre or Courfeyrac bothered to try and smile back. Joly moved a bit closer and pulled the thin covers away from Enjolras' body. He wanted to see the what the wound looked like and the bandages were in need of changing anyway.

"Let's have a look at his wound, shall we, 'Ferre?" Joly said softly, hoping to pull his friend out of his grieving mood and into the roll of doctor. It would be good for Combeferre to feel useful again, as if he was participating in Enjolras' recovery. Joly knew how hard it was for the other medical student to wait and do nothing. "And Courf, if you could get some clean bandages from my bag please?"

Both friends looked at him, frozen in place as Joly's words sank in. Then they sprang into action. Courfeyrac stood from his chair and looked around in his friend's back to find the bandages. "Do you need water too Joly?"

"That would be good, thank you," Joly replied as he carefully loosened the wrappings around Enjolras' middle. Combeferre moved to the other side of the bed. He pressed a gentle kiss against Enjolras' forehead. Almost as if he was apologizing in advance for any pain they might cause him. Then he wrapped one hand around Enjolras' wrist and turned to Joly. He nodded. Let's do this.

Joly carefully pulled the dressings away. He heard Combeferre's sharp intake of breath and had to push his own initial shock at seeing the wound away. It looked horrible and Joly thanked the Lord that Enjolras' wasn't awake to experience what would undoubtedly be a lot of pain. Back at the Musain, he and Combeferre had seared the wound closed so they could stop the bleeding. The edges of skin around the wound were black and would probably soon let loose. Right now, it looked horrifying, but Joly knew that it'd get better with time. Carefully, he reached out on hand and brushed it past the sides of the wound. Though the skin was still very warm to the touch, it looked significantly less red and swollen than it had earlier.

"See this, 'Ferre?" Joly asked, bringing Combeferre's attention back to him. His friend had been anxiously watching Enjolras while he'd inspected the wound. "I know it's hard to believe, because overall it still looks bad, but these edges actually look a lot better than they did two days ago. Here, feel it. It's still warm, but I think it's definitely less swollen, don't you think?" He replaced his hand with Combeferre's and watched how a million emotions crossed his friend's face. Thankfully, relief was one of them.

"That's a really good sign," Joly continued when Combeferre didn't respond. Especially in combination with his temperature that's gone down. It truly means that his body is fighting the infection and right at this point, it seems to be winning. I still don't want to get our hopes up, because though his body is still fighting, he is very weak and he's lost so much blood. But we can definitely take this as it is. Good news." He squeezed Combeferre's shoulder.

Combeferre gave Joly a small smile in return, but at the same time his hand tightened around Enjolras' wrist. He was still terrified to lose him. He still needed to feel that fluttering heartbeat against his fingers. If only for his own sake of mind. "I need him to be okay, Joly," Combeferre admitted softly. "I need him to wake up. I can't do this without him. I can't do any of this. If I lose him… I…"He paused, blinking the tears away. "If I lose him, I'll lose myself right along with him. If I lose him, I can't be there for Courf…or for the cause. I can't be there for any of you. I need him."

Joly was in awe at Combeferre's strength. His best friend's life was hanging on by a thread and still Combeferre did everything in his power to be the rock they all needed. To be the solid comfort that Courfeyrac needed now that his reason to smile was so very ill. Combeferre didn't even really allow himself to cry, to fall apart. He was one bundle of tight muscle, adrenaline and stress. All packed up together to keep standing. To keep his head held high and the there for his two best friends in any way they needed him to. But Joly saw the cracks. He knew how frightened Combeferre was. And so this confession didn't come as anything new.

"I think you underestimate yourself," Joly said. "If what we fear does come to pass, we'll work through it. Together. As a group. But for now, you mustn't think about it. It does no good. Focus on what we can do for Enjolras. On what you can do for yourself."

"What do you mean, for myself? I don't want to do anything for myself." Combeferre sniffed, wiping at the tears that suddenly kept coming. "What do I matter when he's lying there fighting for every breath he takes? What do I need to do for myself when there isn't anything to be done? All that matters is Enjolras right now. Who cares about me?"

"I do," a voice said quietly.

Both Combeferre and Joly turned around to see Courfeyrac stand behind them, bowl of water in his hands. Neither of them had heard him come in.

Courfeyrac stepped closer and handed the bowl to Joly. His eyes never left those of Combeferre. "I care about you, 'Ferre. You matter to me, alright? I can't do this either, but I sure as hell can't lose you both. You can't do that to me. Do have any idea how angry it makes me to hear you say something like that? You don't matter?! Seriously?" Courfeyrac raised his voice, fear and exhaustion mixing with anger and desperation. "We are all in this together. If we lose Enjolras, our whole world will fall apart. I know that, alright? But what if you heard me say something like that, huh? Don't I matter? What would you think Enjolras'd say? Do you think you don't matter to him? Do you honestly think no one cares about you?"

"That's not what I meant," Combeferre started hesitatingly, voice cracking. He hadn't meant for Courfeyrac to hear his words. "I just… I…" But that's when it all fell apart. Combeferre's defenses were down. Exhaustion had crudely wiped them away. And now there was nothing left to hold back the river of emotions that had been waiting days to burst through. All the anger, fear, regret and relief flowed freely. Combeferre's shoulders began to shake and before he fully realized what was happening, he was sobbing miserably. Wretched sounds filled the room.

Joly didn't say or do anything, but gave Courfeyrac a gentle push in Combeferre's direction.

And that was basically all Courfeyrac needed to pull his best friend in a bone crushing embrace and break down himself. He held Combeferre close, pressed his friend's head against his chest and buried his own face in the crook of Combeferre's neck. Together they cried until there were no more tears left.

"Do you think he'll wake up soon?"

Courfeyrac's voice broke the silence in the room. After their breakdown, the two friends had gotten their act together for Enjolras' sake. They didn't want their friend to see them like that. Enjolras had a habit of feeling guilty whenever his friends worried about him. If he'd wake up and see both of his best friends cry like that, he'd definitely take the blame. And if there was one thing that Enjolras didn't need on top of everything that had already happened, it was guilt.

Combeferre shrugged one shoulder. When Joly was done cleaning and wrapping the wound, he'd left the room to inform the Amis about Enjolras' situation. For now, they decided that it was still best to have as little people as possible in the room. If Enjolras was indeed on the mend, he needed no risk of any other ailment whatsoever. After Joly had left, Courfeyrac convinced Combeferre to get some rest. Combeferre refused to go to sleep, but he'd agreed to climbing in bed with Enjolras. That's where he was now, propped up against a few pillows while his blonde friend rested safely against his chest.

"I hope so," Combeferre mumbled, wrinkling his nose when Enjolras' hair tickled his face. "I thought he was close to waking a while ago… But now he seems deeply asleep again. Maybe it's for the best right now, though. If he sleeps, he doesn't feel pain and his body has the best chance of healing."

Courfeyrac nodded. He had once again placed himself in the wooden chair next to the bed, but his head rested against Enjolras' good leg. "It'd be good to see those blue eyes again though. God, I'd even kill to see him glare at me again. I don't think there's anyone in this entire world who can glare like E does. Remember he once silenced our teacher with just one look after he'd been chastised for chatting with the maid's daughter?"

Combeferre chuckled. "I remember, yes. If looks could kill, there'd be no need for a revolution."

Courfeyrac smiled as well. It was good to hear Combeferre chuckle. Between worrying about Enjolras and trying to keep it all together, there hadn't been time for Combeferre to show how he really felt. When he'd finally let everything go a few hours ago, Courfeyrac could tell a weight had lifted from Combeferre's shoulders.

"He's not sweating that much anymore," Courfeyrac said, as he watched how Combeferre wiped a cloth over Enjolras' forehead. "His fever isn't back up again, is it?"

Combeferre easily detected the fear in Courfeyrac's voice. He smiled again and reached out to squeeze his friend's hand. "No, it's still much lower than it was. He was only sweating that much because his temperature lowered significantly in a short time. Don't worry, Courf. I'm keeping a close eye on his vitals. For now, he's still doing better than he before. Much better actually. I've got a feeling he's even resting more comfortably don't you think?"

Courfeyrac studied Enjolras' face. It was smooth and peaceful. "I think so too… I hope he's having a nice dream."

A couple of hours later, Courfeyrac had fallen asleep.

Combeferre, too, was on the verge of passing out. He'd struggled against his exhaustion for more than two days now and he knew he was about to lose the fight. The warm weight of his friend against his chest didn't do much to keep him awake either. And Enjolras felt like a comfortable blanket. It wouldn't hurt to sleep a few minutes, would it? Even if it would, Combeferre knew he couldn't win the fight. So he finally allowed his eyes to shut and he felt himself drift away in the world of dreams.

Combeferre had no idea how much time passed when he woke up again. But the second there was a shift against his chest, his eyes flew open. It was like his unconscious mind remained alert, just in case something changed in Enjolras' condition. He looked down to see if his friend was still peacefully sleeping, but what he saw nearly broke his heart.

Enjolras' face was screwed up in pain and there were tears on his cheeks.

Very carefully – though his heart beat like crazy inside his chest – he sat up a little straighter so he had both arms free to help Enjolras but at the same be as close as possible. He wanted his friend to know right away that he wasn't alone.

"Hey, E," he whispered softly, voice gentle but with a slightly demanding undertone. He needed his friend to wake up now. "Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?" One hand carded through the messy mop of curls as the other softly squeezed the nap of his neck. "You've been asleep for so long, it's time to wake up now. Can you wake up for me, E? Please?"

And finally, after hours of hoping and praying, Enjolras' eyes opened.

TBC.