Disclaimer: I am not Victor Hugo. Geez, you'd have thought someone would have figured that out by now.

A/N Thankyou to all of the lovely people who have viewed, favourited and followed. More reviews are always welcome! ;)

Chapter Five

It was a further three, long, tense days before the girl reawakened, for the first time completely aware of her surroundings. Thankfully, this time she did not awake in a blind panic like before, she just suddenly asked Combeferre and Joly, who were changing the dressing on her shoulder and checking the cuts on her arms, helped by Margo, if sitting up would make the process any easier. She remained still and quiet as they finished the job, responding helpfully to the queries and questions as to her health that the two young doctors asked. As soon as they completed the examination, the two medical students prepared to leave but she called out to them, her voice weak from disuse.

"Wait! How can I thank you for your kindness when I don't know any of your names? Well," she glanced gratefully at the woman beside her, "none of your names apart from Margo's." She obviously did not remember her conversation with Enjolras a few days before, if it could even be called a conversation.

Courfeyrac, who had come around to the apartment in the hope of copying off Enjolras' notes from their law class, was delighted at the idea of introducing everyone to their currently nameless patient and finally being able to put a name to said patient. He vigorously gathered everyone, meaning Combeferre, Joly, a hung-over Grantaire (who for some reason had appeared at the apartment midmorning), Enjolras (who had to be dragged away from his desk, protesting grumpily), Margo and himself, into the little room. As this turned out to be a bit of a squeeze, even though Enjolras' desk had been removed two days before, Grantaire lounged against the door frame with Enjolras to free up some floor space.

Courfeyrac paced the floor like a great orator about to begin a speech, but Enjolras ignored his friend's dramatics and couldn't help but study the girl, noting the changes to her appearance as he did so.

Margo had washed the blood and filth out of her hair and brushed it so it fell in a shining brunette curtain to the middle of her back. Her skin had finally regained some colour, showing that she had quite a dusky tone to her skin. She glanced nervously around the room, her eyes flitting from person to person, obviously slightly uncomfortable. Just for a moment, she locked eyes with him and the corner of her mouth crooked up in a shy and wry smile, indicating that she had caught him staring.

Grantaire, who was far more observant than many people gave him credit for, gave his blond acquaintance a not so subtle, or gentle, nudge in the ribs, earning himself one of Enjolras' special glares. Glares such as these normally only made an appearance when Grantaire was spectacularly misbehaving, like the time he had bought Jehan a ferret and had then insisted on showing the gentle hearted poet how to feed it a live mouse. Jehan hadn't left his apartment for two days afterwards and Grantaire had been permanently banned from that particular café. Apparently, having customers running out of the doors screaming was not good for business. For some reason, Jehan had kept the ferret, now called Ophelia. No one asked why.

Enjolras was drawn from his mental rambling by Courfeyrac beginning the introductions.

"You have been a guest here for some days now, but we have, as yet, not been introduced," he gestured to Combeferre, "This bespectacled medical student goes by the name of Phillip Combeferre. When he is not saving the lives of beautiful women, such as yourself, he is voluntarily reading philosophy and other such clever but dull things."

Enjolras narrowed his eyes slightly at Courfeyrac's behaviour, but Combeferre just shrugged, a boyish smile playing on his features.

"It's nice to be able to put a name to one of my doctor's faces," she spoke softly, as if it was quite painful. It probably was.

Unfortunately, at that moment the full force of his hangover hit Grantaire and he stumbled away from the door. Judging from the direction the retching came from, he had just managed to make it to the sink before the several bottles of wine he had consumed the night before made a return appearance.

Joly scurried after him, a bottle of dark, unpleasant looking liquid clutched in one hand, and muttering about the damage that the retching could be inflicting upon his friend. "He could crack a rib, or rupture his spleen, or damage his oesophagus, or…"

Courfeyrac smiled, not put off in the least, "The tall, dark, and drunk one is Nicholas Grantaire, but don't call him Nicholas or any of its diminutives, he hates it. We mostly call him by his last name or Capital R or just plain R."

She looked a little baffled by the information, but just nodded in understanding.

"Your other doctor who ran after him is Christophe Joly, or Jolllly, as we sometimes call him, our resident hypochondriac. When he isn't checking his tongue in a mirror or trying to convince us all he's dying of the plague, he is one of the best friends you could ask for."

"I must thank him for everything he's done," the girl gestured to her head and shoulder with her free arm. She tried to smile again but winced, her head obviously giving her a fair amount of pain. "You have not yet introduced yourself, m'sieur, or your other friend," she glanced over to Enjolras, who desperately wanted to leave, even though that would be rude, and at the same time desperately wanting to stay.

Courfeyrac smiled again, and bowed courteously, "I am Jerome Courfeyrac, the beating heart of my group of friends, always ready with a smile, gallant knight to damsels in distress…"

"He means he flirts with anything in a skirt," chipped in Enjolras, not sure why he spoke, but pleased to have coaxed a chuckle from her.

Courfeyrac frowned disapprovingly, "Nonsense, Julien, I distinctly remember having flirted with you one particular night."

Enjolras felt himself blush, a rare occurrence for him, but hid his discomfort with a glare as he heard the other occupants of the room chuckle in amusement.

"You know Margo, and so we come to our final introduction," Courfeyrac gestured impatiently and Enjolras reluctantly stepped forwards, somewhat surprised when Courfeyrac threw an affectionate arm about his shoulders, "This is Julien Enjolras, the man who found you and in whose apartment you are now residing."

"I will forever be in your debt, M'sieur Enjolras," she began to say, but he cut her off briskly.

"There is no reason for you to feel indebted to me, mademoiselle. Any of my friends would have acted the same in the situation. I am nothing special."

She looked a little surprised at his words. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so formal, and his tone maybe had been a little bit cold. Why had he spoken like that? It couldn't have been that he was nervous, was it? He spoke to people every day, often large groups of people, and he didn't get nervous. Maybe because she was a woman? He had never conversed easily with women, he left that to Courfeyrac. Also, why the hell was he analysing everything that he did around her?

He saw Combeferre raise an eyebrow at him in askance and realized that she was speaking to him.

"That may be the case, Monsieur Enjolras, but it was you who found me, not any of your friends. Even if you will not take my gratitude, it is given freely and I will find a way to repay the care that has been shown to me and will no doubt continue to be shown to me until I am well."

"I like you already," Courfeyrac stated, the mood in the room relaxing visibly, "Not many people will counter Enjolras." He all but threw himself into the one chair in the room as Margo was sat on the bed, "We have all introduced ourselves; I think it time that you returned the favour."

Joly appeared at that moment in the doorway, minus Grantaire. "He's on the sofa," he whispered to Enjolras, who scowled. Grantaire hung over on his sofa was the last thing he needed.

Joly had obviously heard what Courfeyrac had said, as he stepped into the room and said, "I agree with Courfeyrac, I prefer to know my patients names. Calling you 'mademoiselle' or 'the patient' really isn't a very good bed side manner."

She sat up straighter in preparation, ignoring the pain that no doubt came with the movement. "My name is…," she trailed off.

"Your name is…?" Combeferre prompted her.

Confused by her apparent reluctance, Courfeyrac attempted to reassure her. "It is quite alright mademoiselle; we will hold no judgement on your family name. We are more open minded than most when it comes to matters such as that," he added, risking a glance at Enjolras who was looking at the girl with something that looked like concern.

The girl tried to speak again, but now her voice held a hint of panic. "It is not that I am ashamed of my name M'sieur Courfeyrac," her gaze jumped from one student to the next, finally settling on Courfeyrac, "It is that I do not know what my name is." Seeing their confusion she added for good measure, "I don't know who I am!"

A/N Dun Dun DUUUN! Sorry to keep you guys in suspense for another chapter, but I think if I stick the contents of the next chapter onto this one, it will be huge! Love you guys, and remember, review!

Until next time, mes amis!

Libz