A/N: Thank you so much for the feedback; please keep it coming! In case you have also hit your head like Enjolras and forgotten, I do not own anything Les Mis, the plot is mine, but nothing else.

Enjolras was lost. His life no longer made sense to him and he was confined to a bed, forced to confront it. The amis were a constant presence –the living eager to help return his body and mind to proper health; the dead haunting his guilt ridden conscience. Éponine however had grown uncharacteristically quiet. Despite her immense desire to never leave his side, the lack of recognition in his eyes when she entered the room made her blood run cold. To protect herself from more grief she stayed away from the bedroom as much as she could handle before the need to see him and know that he was still breathing overwhelmed her. She could feel herself withdraw, but she didn't know what else to do or how to stop the walls from surrounding her again. Each uncertain look and noncommittal gesture on Enjolras' part added another stone to the protective barrier encasing her anguished heart.

"You can't abandon him Éponine," Combeferre told her in exasperation one afternoon just five days after Enjolras had regained consciousness.

"I'm not abandoning him, he doesn't know me!" she shouted, feeling the pain of her own words.

"He needs you now more than ever," he said, his voice raised passionately, "the best chance he has of regaining his memory is in talking to you! Make him remember your life together! Show him why you fell in love!"

Éponine sighed heavily, looking down at her feet. He was right and she knew it, but she was nervous and strangely intimidated by this stranger who was Enjolras. This was the man who existed months before they ever met; he wasn't the same person he had become with her.

Combeferre's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "You two were brought together for a reason, just because his memory has vanished doesn't mean the connection has as well."

She smiled brightly up at him before throwing her arms around his waist. Her eyes welled with tears and she prayed that he was right and that somehow the bond forged between her and Enjolras would bring him back to her.


The door creaked open and Enjolras sat up with a start, groaning when his wounds protested. A sliver of light from the opening fell across his face and he could see the outline of Éponine's slender shape peering into the dark room, eyes squinted as they adjusted to the lack of light. "Did I wake you?" she whispered, still standing in the doorway, a look of concern and uncertainty on her pretty face.

"No I was just thinking," he murmured back. "To what do I owe the visit? It seems to me you have been avoiding coming in here."

"It's hard," she admitted, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind her.

"What is?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

"You used to look at me with such love and anticipation as if you hadn't seen me in ages." She stared at the floor, her cheeks flushed. "Now there's nothing in your eyes but doubt when I'm near you."

"I apologize that this has hurt your feelings. Please, sit." He gestured to the armchair at his bedside where Éponine had lived for the three days he was unconscious. He waited for her to drift over and sit herself down before he continued. "Joly said you had also been injured. I hope you are well."

The formality with which he spoke to her was like having salt poured in her wound. "I'm doing quite well, thanks. The bullet merely grazed my side."

"Ah, lucky I suppose." They sat in uncomfortable silence for several long minutes. Neither of them knew what to say to the other.

"Do you even want your memory back?" Éponine finally blurted out.

"What do you mean? That's a rather absurd question."

"Is it though? I know you're looking at me right now and wondering how the hell you could have fallen in love with a street rat like me. You would probably rather spare yourself the memory of us and forget about the friends you lost at the barricade while you're at it. Kind of a win-win isn't it? You win the revolution, but you don't have to remember the horror of it. You can move on with your life without that haunting you and without me dragging you down."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Enjolras boomed. The volume and malice of his voice forced Éponine to lean back in her chair. "You think I've gotten off scotch free? That the loss of my friends doesn't haunt me? I cannot begin to tell you how wrong you are. Not a single night has gone by without being thrown into dreadful nightmares. My mind has drummed up all sorts of horrific death scenes that play out in my head every time I close my eyes. I can't escape reality, so yes, I would much rather remember it." He stared at her intensely for several moments while his breathing slowed. Éponine felt ashamed for her words and wanted to avoid his gaze, but she couldn't peal her eyes away from his. The familiar spark of warmth was felt by both of them and Enjolras closed his eyes suddenly, breaking the trance. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes and speaking again, "I am deeply truly sorry that I have no memory of you because this is only the second conversation that I actually remember having with you and I can already tell that you are far from typical."

She smiled slightly at his words. Perhaps even if Enjolras never remembers their past, he can fall in love with her all over again. "I shouldn't have said that," Éponine murmured after a moment, shamefaced at the harsh assumption she made of him. "I'm just frustrated and I have no clue how to react to this situation because we feel like strangers. Believe me, we were not strangers last week."

Enjolras chuckled, surprisingly lighthearted. He resembled the youthful, passionate man who rolled around with Éponine in that very bed just weeks before. "You're frustrated? I try and try to remember, but an entire chunk of my life has simply been erased. I understand that you're hurt, but please be patient with me Éponine and I'll do everything I can to come back to you." She smiled, finally feeling a small amount of relief. Perhaps the Enjolras she knew wasn't lost forever after all. It seemed that the man she loved was still there, just hiding, but Éponine was determined to coax him out. She couldn't let the greatest thing that had ever happened to her just slip between her fingers; she was going to fight for her happiness.

Though the idea seemed foreign to him and he couldn't be sure what prompted him to do it, he found himself reaching out a shaky hand to her. She eyed it hesitantly for a brief second before grasping it firmly with her own. Enjolras enjoyed the feeling of her small hand in his and this surprised him. His body reacted to her physically despite his mind's uncertainty and a slight smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. It seemed that Éponine might be the key to unlocking his lost memories. He felt found.

A/N: Aha! A little progress has been made! Stay tuned and please review!