A/N: Hi guys. So here's Chapter 11. Skip straight ahead if you'd like, but I feel like I owe you lot an explanation and lots of love and praise, so: I'm sorry about that meltdown at the end of Chapter 10, but I was in the middle of super important finals and so, annoyingly, all inspiration for this story had drained due to constant revision and tests. But now I literally have til September of pure nothingness in my life, and since being on a break from school for the past three weeks, the inspiration has been slowly coming back, and here I produce Chapter 11. But it would NOT have come back if it wasn't for you AMAZING reviewers on that last chapter, spurring me on and telling me not to give up on this. I read all of them over and over and I really do love you all. So, so much. This is just a little fanfiction and yet the reception you guys give me each chapter, though it might not seem like much to anyone else, is such a huge inspiration to me and so you have yourselves to thank for this story. Even the new follows and favourites had my heart soaring. Seriously, if you could review yourselves, you should, praising yourselves for keeping this fic alive. Anyway, I suppose I should let y'all read this chapter and stop my rambling. I hope you all enjoy this, because I've kept them apart for too long, So, without further ado:

"He… He doesn't remember me?" Éponine asked, but almost seemed to be saying it to herself, testing it out on her tongue, testing out the idea that the man she loved didn't remember who she was.

She didn't like it. Who would?

"He will remember you though, Éponine. He just needs reminding of who you are. Maybe… Maybe you could visit him?" Cosette looked at Marius as she suggested this, searching his face for approval of this idea.

"I'd have to approach him with the idea of it first, but I'm more than sure he'd be okay with it." Marius nodded, and Cosette let out a breath.

Éponine stared at the white sheets below her for a long time, the back of her neck beginning to ache with the strain of the angle it was placed at. She lifted her head up again and looked from Cosette to Marius.

"But what if he never remembers me? What if he is repulsed by me and never wants to see me again?"

"That's not going to happen, Éponine. You're overthinking. Enjolras is still the same person he was before the barricades, he's just lost a few of his memories is all." Marius replied, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Éponine let out a long, weary sigh, not letting tears drop from her eyes. Now that she knew he was alive, she just wanted to see him again, to hold him, and wanted him to hold her, and she wanted to run her fingers through his soft hair and inhale his scent. She could imagine the trouble with sleeping he was most likely having, with the mental and physical reminders of the events of the barricade being with him all the time. Éponine knew the feeling all too well, but she knew that Enjolras must have been having ten times as much of a hard time as she.

"Don't worry, Éponine." Cosette soothed, grabbing the girl's unwounded hand, careful not to pull it towards her in case she tore the wound on Éponine's shoulder open. "I promise he will remember you, and you will be reunited with him once more. Come on, you need to rest. You've been given quite a shock, you're bound to want to sleep."

Éponine nodded and pulled the covers over herself, not bothering to argue with Cosette. She didn't want to sleep, but she wanted to be alone, she wanted to let the rest of her tears fall from her eyes without feeling like an idiot in front of Marius and Cosette.

"The next time I see you I will have word from Enjolras. Sweet dreams, 'Ponine." Marius bid her farewell and closed the door behind he and Cosette, before they made their way into one of Monsieur Fauchelevent's spare bedrooms, away from Éponine.

"How do you suppose we get them to speak?" Cosette whispered lowly, now aware of Éponine's exceptional skill of eavesdropping and overhearing things. "Are we expecting her to just make herself known and have him accept her?" Marius thought for a while at Cosette's words, and shook his head.

"I don't know." He sighed. "For now," He quickly added when Cosette narrowed her eyes at him.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to keep her occupied now, Marius." She admitted, looking down at her hands. "She was already in such a state, now she knows Enjolras is alive but unavailable to her, she'll only get worse!" Cosette's voice began to quiver, and Marius pulled her into a hug.

"You'd better speak to him soon, you know." Her muffled voice came from her mouth pressed to Marius' shoulder. "You told her that you'd have word from him the next time you saw her." Marius nodded, racking his brain for an idea.

"So, what's your name?" Éponine asked, one day when she was waiting in the Musain for Marius to arrive. Enjolras looked up from the parchment he was writing on and stared at her incredulously.

"Enjolras…" He replied slowly, looking at her as though she had lost her mind. She already knew his name. They had been talking for quite some time, now. Was this some joke he did not understand? She sighed, and pulled a chair out at the table he sat at, perching herself on it and resting her elbows on the surface.

"I know that much. I can remember your name, I'm not a complete idiot." Enjolras was about to argue that he didn't think she was an idiot at all, but Éponine carried on talking. "But I also know that Enjolras is your last name. What is your Christian name? And why do you prefer to go by Enjolras?"

Enjolras stared at her some more, before shaking his head and resuming his writing.

"Oh, come on!" Éponine whined, leaning her chin on her hand. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone." She sighed at his silence, and looked around the room. "If you won't tell me, I'll ask Combeferre."

"What makes you think Combeferre will know?" Enjolras looked up from his papers again.

"Because he's your best friend."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"And why?"

"Because… because I always see you talking to him!" Enjolras laughed.

"I talk to lots of people. I'm talking to you, are you my best friend?"

"That's not what I meant. I see things, you know. I don't just sit here and pine after Marius. You speak to Combeferre with a worried crease in your brow, and you don't talk to anyone else when you're worried. And when you think you are the last two people here, I watch from the stairwell as you flop down in that chair over there," Éponine reached behind her to point at the cushioned armchair, "and he tells you that you need to eat and sleep otherwise you'll perish before the revolution even starts." She turned back to him, a smug smile on her face, and Enjolras stared at her, something he was doing a lot today, he found. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and dropped his head back to his work, letting his blond curls curtain his face.

"Éponine?" A familiar voice called, and the girl stood up.

"Monsieur Marius! How are you today?" She asked, a grin on her face.

"I'm well, 'Ponine! My, you are in such a good mood today. Might I ask a favour of you?"

"Anything for you, Monsieur."

"Would you take this letter to Cosette for me?" Enjolras looked up just in time to see the grin on the girl's face falter, and he felt a twinge of sadness for her.

"Oh... " Was her reply, and Marius stared impatiently. "Of course."

"Merci!" He gave her arm a quick squeeze and left an envelope in her hand. He gave a quick wave to Enjolras, who gave a half-hearted one back, and turned, leaving her standing looking forlorn. She turned to leave, before Enjolras spoke up.

"It's Antoine." He said, staring at the back of her head. Éponine stopped in her tracks, and turned to look at him.

"Enchanté, Antoine." She smiled, and raced out of the door.

Éponine sat lamenting on Enjolras' part the loss of their memories together. Why had he forgotten her and left her with all of these memories of them both that she knew were now only one sided? Why was there now the pain of reacquainting themselves with each other, starting all over again? She countered that she was lucky he was even alive, that she would be able to see him again, but starting from scratch seemed tiring. Still, she would try her hardest anyway, determined to make him remember.

Marius smiled as he watched his two friends surrounded by the shrubbery in the courtyard of the convent. He assumed that it was the first time Enjolras had been outside for a long time judging by the grimaces he tried to hide from Joly that crossed his face as he walked, and fought a small laugh that wanted to erupt from his mouth. He thanked the Nun who had led him to his friends, and she nodded, before going back inside.

He walked towards them, and Joly smiled when he saw him coming. Enjolras looked up, and attempted a grin at his approaching friend, but it quickly spread into a wince as the pressure of standing up took further toll on his chest.

"I told you to sit down when we got out here." Joly scolded, and Enjolras rolled his eyes, ignoring him.

"Pontmercy!" He changed the subject, lowering himself down slowly to sit on the stone fountain in the middle of the gardens. "How are you today, my friend?" Marius let out a laugh and shook his head.

"I can't complain. What about you? First drop of sunlight you've seen in an age I suppose?" He teased, and Enjolras reached to swat at him.

"Idiot. No, I was out the other day, wasn't I Joly?" Joly nodded in reply, sitting down beside his friend.

"I could hardly get him back inside. I don't want the same problem again today." He nagged, and Enjolras shook his head.

"I'm not a child. You needn't admonish me all the time."

"No, you're a grown man with vulnerable wounds."

"Fine, then we'll all go inside because you can't let me sit out and enjoy the sun for a while." Enjolras made to get up, leaning on the cane Marius had acquired for him a few weeks ago.

"Civility please, gentlemen. I haven't come to watch you bicker." Marius scolded, and switched his gaze between the two. "I've come for something else entirely different."

Enjolras stopped and sat back down again, he and Joly giving Marius inquisitive looks.

"What is it?" Joly asked, and Marius took a deep breath.

"Well as you know, I'm keeping in touch with Éponine. She is staying with Cosette and her father, recovering from her wounds, so I see her a lot." He ignored Enjolras' eye roll at the mention of Cosette and continued. "I was wondering if it would be a good idea for us all… to meet. Here."

There was silence among the three for a moment, before Enjolras spoke up. "She is willing to meet me?" He asked, quietly. "After everything I put her through?" Joly looked as though he was going to counter Enjolras' statement, but closed his mouth again and looked to Marius.

"Well, I'd like to see her again. If that's alright with you, Enj." Enjolras almost smiled at Joly's use of his old nickname, one that was popular amongst his friends, but he was lost in thought.

"Alright." He said, after another moment of silence. "I'd like to meet her."

Marius led a small, skinny figure into the room, and Enjolras sat up, having mixed emotions about his visitor. It had been a few days since his conversation with Marius and Joly in the gardens outside, and of course, he was eager to meet another person who had survived the events of his barricade, but at the same time he was worried that the guilt of causing her pain would pile on top of all the rest of the guilt he so rightly felt and he wondered what would happen if it all became too much.

She stopped a little when she saw him, and Enjolras swore he saw her buckle slightly, but he didn't mention it. She didn't fall due to Marius' hand on her arm, but she still looked as though she was going to.

They never took their eyes off of each other once, and each felt as though the other was staring into the depths of their heart and soul. Enjolras soon realised he was being slightly rude, and he quickly extended a hand out to the girl.

"I-I'm Enjolras," He stuttered, "It's nice to meet you."

Her bottom lip began to tremble and tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over but never actually doing so. Enjolras flinched, horrified with himself. The mere sight of him was enough to reduce the girl to tears in remembrance of all that she had lost because of him.

She took his hand nonetheless, giving it a firm shake, and he once again twitched at the familiarity of the roughness of her hands against his own. They were rougher than they should have been for a lady, but again he did not mention it.

"É-Éponine," She whispered, sitting on a chair behind her and he nodded — it seemed as though they both had a speech impediment today. Joly and Marius watched as the two stared at each other for a moment.

Éponine had darker skin than his own, Enjolras noted, like she enjoyed spending her time in the sun. She was dressed well, and her skin and her hair were clean. Her hair was an auburn colour, a mixture of brown and red like a leaf fallen from a tree in the autumn, and was styled in a low bun at the back of her head.

Enjolras had seen her before, he knew he had, but he couldn't associate her with any memories. There was, of course, the one that Joly had told him of, how he had lifted her body and based a speech around her. He remembered that Joly had said she was poverty-stricken, so that explained the rough feel of her hand. Other than that, he couldn't actually remember her himself. His eyes flickered down to her gloved hand for a split second. It was obviously hiding an injury, and a picture of a bloody hand that had been shot through flashed to his mind. He looked back up at her quickly.

"Have we met before?" He asked, curiosity getting the better of him to see what she would say. He knew from Marius and Joly that they had, but he wanted to see if she would explain more, and perhaps then his memory would fall back into place. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it again before she stood abruptly.

"Is there… somewhere that I might powder my nose?" She forced out, her voice a whisper and her eyes trained on the floor. Marius nodded quickly and then replied "Yes," realising that she wasn't looking at him. Leading her from the room, he didn't spare a glance back at the two men.

"Well it was nice…meeting you…" Enjolras trailed off, watching her leave. He looked at Joly incredulously, who only stared back in further disbelief. "Did I say something wrong?" Enjolras was aware of his tendencies to easily offend other people with his brazen tongue, but he was sure that asking someone whether they'd met or not wasn't classed as offensive.

"I don't think so…" Joly replied, looking thoughtful. He sat in an armchair. "Maybe she's still a little… unnerved from the barricade." He whispered, and Enjolras sat back, nodding. He understood that perfectly, and would say that it was probably a bit more than just unnerved.

Marius returned after a short while, without Éponine. "She's in a bathroom upstairs. I think she needs some time to herself."

Enjolras stared at him before replying. "I know her face. I've seen it before, I know I have. I just can't place where."

Marius so badly wanted to stand and shout to Enjolras 'You were her lover! You were her heart and she followed you into battle because she could not stand the idea of life without you!' How ironic it was that he too was once the subject of Éponine's thoughts and feelings and was just as oblivious as Enjolras.

"You know her. You do… You just have to try and remember." Was simply all he said.

Éponine sat in a bathroom, staring at the mirror, letting tears fall from her eyes.

She had nearly fallen to the ground when she walked into his room, upon seeing him alive and sitting up on his bed. His golden curls sprung about his head messily, and his pale face giving away the true extent of his injuries and experiences. She had so desperately wanted to fling herself on him, tell him that they were both okay and that they could be together now, but she knew it couldn't have been further from the truth.

Instead, Éponine allowed herself to take steps forward towards him, staring into his eyes the whole way. He had been wearing a thin white shirt over his torso and she made an effort not to look at the bandages that you could see through the thin cotton, knowing how upsetting it was to have someone stare at your battle wounds. It wasn't that much of an effort, considering she hadn't seen his blue eyes for what seemed like an eternity to her, and she had never expected to see them again.

But when he extended his hand and introduced himself, telling her of how nice it was to meet her, the reality of it all came crashing down on Éponine and she realised that he really didn't remember her at all. That Marius had not been joking and lying to her, that he truly could not put a name to her face.

However, she kept it together and blinked back her tears, his blurry face coming into vision again. Taking his hand, she shook it and sat down. They stared at each other once more, his intense scrutiny not even uncomfortable on her face. Yes, she thought, stare! Get a good look! Remember me, please!

She took the time to stare back at his face. It was not exactly the same since she had last seen it, but it was still his face, the one she missed dearly. Hardened from tough experience and grief and loss, with bags under his eyes and a tired wrinkle in his forehead, Éponine longed to sit beside him and let him rest his head on her breast, allowing her to comfort and smooth away the worry in his expressions.

She knew, she knew as well as anyone else and probably more, but only just as much as him, that she couldn't be his saviour and take him away from the horrors and the aftermath of the revolution, just like he couldn't be hers. She couldn't magically cure him from his apparent insomnia and his likely night terrors, but she would surely like to try at least, for some comfort for them both.

And then he spoke, and she realised she missed his voice but it took her a second to realise what he'd asked, and once again she was overwhelmed. 'Have we met before?' He'd asked her, and she'd just sat like a fish, opening and closing her mouth looking for the right thing to say. Of course, she wanted to tell him everything but there was a high chance that he'd look at her as though she were crazy and never want to see her again.

So, with lack of a better option, she'd asked if there was somewhere she could powder her nose and took off.

Cosette had taught her that. You don't ask for a bathroom or a toilet, but you ask if there is somewhere that you might 'powder your nose.'. 'That way, it's more polite and ladylike!' She had beamed, but Éponine felt neither polite nor ladylike as she sat in the washroom of a convent, crying over the past five minutes of her life.

A/N: Please continue to love this story! I'm probably making it hard to, but I promise it gets better!