Hi guys, it's been a while! I've been extremely busy – still am – and so I don't get to writing that much. Plus I've suffered from a horrible writer's block. But, I finally managed to get another chapter up. Hope you'll enjoy it!

After Grantaire left the apartment, Combeferre stays in the living room for a long time. He has a lot to think about. The things Grantaire told him showed him new insight in how to deal with the situation they were in. It certainly gave him new perspective and he knew he was going to have to take Grantaire's ideas into consideration. It was clear that the way things were going now, were not working. Enjolras hadn't improved at all in the past three weeks. If anything, he was doing worse. The breakdown from that afternoon only proved how bad things really were.

However, even though Combeferre was more than willing to think about a new approach, he didn't have to like it. If he was honest with himself, he didn't like it at all. The idea of stepping back and letting Enjolras deal with his trauma on his own, terrified him. How could that be a solution, when all Enjolras wanted was to stay close to his friend? How could he give Enjolras space when the man suffered horrible nightmares that he begged to be woken up from? How could he leave Enjolras to do things on his own when panic attacks and flashbacks were just waiting around the corner? Wasn't it better to stay close and guide his friend along the right path? Shouldn't he stay close and make sure Enjolras was safe?

But then… Who was he to take away Enjolras' control over his own life? What would become of his best friend if he lived only by Combeferre's guidance, holding his hand? Was he really any better than their enemies if he kept that control – even if it was to keep him safe? Even if he would never harm Enjolras and even if he would never lead him astray? Was it really fair to take that control that Enjolras had given him so willingly? Combeferre hadn't even thought about it until Grantaire mentioned it.

But now that Grantaire had, it made Combeferre think and question and think again. It was true what Grantaire said. Combeferre wasn't blind, he too could see how hard it was for Enjolras to settle into this new life. It was all too clear that his best friend was in constant conflict with himself. Old and new memories that tried to mix together, but couldn't, because they were so very different. It must be terribly confusing to feel like two different persons at the same time. One who is scared all the time and another who wants to take back control over his life. And instead of working together, the two hold each other back – two completely different characters that cannot be merged into one. And unfortunately for Enjolras, the scared and broken one has the upper hand. Because it is easier to lock yourself away and hide from everything than to confront your fears.

The contrast became all too clear that afternoon when a mere loud voice sent Enjolras into a complete melt down that he couldn't control. The image of his best friend kneeling whimpering on the ground was one Combeferre would never forget. However, as soon as Enjolras came back to himself, the sheer embarrassment of his breakdown seemed to destroy him. Combeferre could see in his eyes how angry his friend was with himself, how disappointed and ashamed.

He wanted to help so badly, but he had no idea how. Without any real knowledge of what Enjolras had gone through during his imprisonment, Combeferre had no idea where to start. Maybe it was better to loosen the reigns a bit and force Enjolras to discover who he was now and where he saw himself in this new world. It wouldn't be easy, but maybe it was necessary. After all, only Enjolras – who had all the knowledge about his old and his new self – could decide who he wanted to be. No one else could or should make that decision for him.

Apart from the fact that Enjolras might need more space to determine who he wants to be, Combeferre knows it would be good for him too to take a step back and work through the loss of their old life – of Enjolras' old life – and the trauma of the war. When Grantaire first mentioned it, Combeferre was critical and didn't believe it. But when he thought about it, it was true that he still had not really accepted that things wouldn't go back to the way they were. His mind had known it all along, but his heart still dared to hope. And in this case, the heart had been more powerful than the mind. Hope is always more powerful. Deep down Combeferre feels guilty for hoping in the first place. He got his friend back, wasn't that enough? Why did his heart have to long for more? Couldn't it be grateful?

Yes, things needed to change. For the both of them. But he wasn't going to do anything rash. Like Grantaire said, they didn't have to change things overnight. Combeferre still wanted to be there for Enjolras. He still wanted to be his solid rock for as long as his friend needed it. Maybe they would just have to discuss things together. Surely Enjolras would know best what he needed and what he wanted. Maybe Combeferre only had to ask…

A glance at clock told Combeferre that he had been sitting here for nearly an hour. Enjolras still hadn't left his room. With a weary sigh, Combeferre pushes himself up from the couch and walks over to Enjolras' closed bedroom door. He hesitates for a second – wondering if his friend might need some more time alone – but then knocks anyway. He waits for an answer and when there comes none, he knocks again.

Enjolras still doesn't answer him, and so Combeferre turns the knob and lets himself in. For a moment he's afraid of what he'll find, but then he spots his friend on his bed. Enjolras lies with his back to the bedroom door and doesn't make a sound when Combeferre opens the door further. All he does is shift and curl in on himself. Combeferre opens his mouth to say something, to announce his arrival, but then decides not to. He just walks over to the bed and lies down next to Enjolras.

They lie there in a comfortable silence, Enjolras still on his side and Combeferre on his back, staring at the ceiling. Then Combeferre remembers a conversation he and Enjolras had earlier that day and he realizes he still needs to clear the air between the two of them.

"Enjolras…," Combeferre starts softly, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. "I want to apologize to you… For what I said earlier today… a-about the camps?"

Enjolras still doesn't say anything, but Combeferre can hear him take a deeper breath and he knows Enjolras knows exactly what he's talking about.

"I know that what I said… a-about wishing I had been there with you… I know that it might have been an insensitive thing to say, especially to you. And for that I'm incredibly sorry, because I never meant to hurt you or to make your experiences sound ignorant."

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. "But I won't take them back, Enjolras… I can't. Because it is truly what I wish. When they took you away from me I was nothing. I was no one… I should've been there that day and I wasn't, and I'll never forgive myself for it. I hate that it makes you angry or sad… But… I'll say only now, one last time, that if I could turn back time, I would've turned myself in alongside of you. I should've been there to protect you, to look out for you. That's my job and I failed… And now you have gone through something I can never understand and I can never protect you from those awful memories and I hate it. I hate that we've gone down different paths and now I can't help you the way that I want…"

Combeferre wants to say more, but at that point Enjolras turns around to face him. His eyes are a little red, but his expression is soft.

"It's not your job to protect me, 'Ferre… We've had that discussion before…"

Combeferre shakes his head and opens his mouth to contradict, but Enjolras doesn't give him space to interrupt.

"I understand that you feel the way you do… Or at least I think I do… But it scared me when you said it…" Enjolras is quiet for a second before looking up at his friend with tears in his eyes. "You know that the only thing that kept me going in there… The only reason why I didn't give up months ago was because I knew none of you were in there with me. The only reason, 'Ferre… You were safe… Maybe you weren't complete and maybe you weren't fine, but you were safe and that was all that mattered to me. With that knowledge, I had the strength to keep on going. I had the hope to return to you one day…The only good thing about those camps was that you and the others weren't there with me…"

Combeferre stares at the ceiling as he lets Enjolras' words sink in. They make sense, they do. And if Combeferre had been in Enjolras' shoes he'd probably feel the same way. But that still didn't change the way that he felt. It still didn't make him want to take his words back, because he still meant them. Combeferre doesn't know what to say, so instead he takes Enjolras' hand in his own and squeezes it briefly.

They fall silent again, leaving the discussion at that. Once again, Combeferre wishes he could just ask his friend about what he has gone through, but he won't. He'll never forget the plead Enjolras made him the day he returned home. And he won't ever break his promise. But he does believe that Enjolras will have to get it all out one way or another. It can't be healthy to keep it all inside.

"Grantaire stayed a while…" Enjolras says after a few minutes. He doesn't continue and so Combeferre guesses he wants him to elaborate.

"He did," Combeferre answers, nodding, "We talked about some things. He promised to come by soon again."

"You talked about what happened this afternoon?" Enjolras asks quietly, playing with a loose string on the shirt he's wearing. "About the panic attack?"

Combeferre turns his head and looks at his friend, who deliberately avoids his gaze. Grantaire was right. It's all too clear that Enjolras feels embarrassed about what happened. He squeezes Enjolras' hand again and says: "Among other things, yes."

Before he can say more, Enjolras pulls his hand out of his grip and turns on his side again, facing Combeferre. He doesn't meet his friend's eyes when he mumbles a quiet apology. "I didn't mean for that to happen and I hate that it did… I just… Couldn't help it, I guess."

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Combeferre turns on his side as well and offers Enjolras a sad smile. "I know you didn't mean for it to happen. And I know you can't help it. You've gone through a great trauma and you've only been back with us for three weeks. Of course I know that you didn't want this to happen. And you know that I know that, so why are you apologizing?"

That's when Enjolras looks up and stares directly into Combeferre's eyes. The pain and frustration are clear for Combeferre to see and he has difficulty to hold Enjolras' gaze instead of turning away. The look of deep unhappiness burns a hole into his very soul.

"Because I saw the way you looked at me… You and Grantaire both…" Enjolras says with a trembling voice. "I saw how scared you were… I know how scared everyone is… and I don't want that… I hate that. I don't want to be that person, 'Ferre… I don't want to worry you… I don't want to be this needy, helpless friend who can't even go outside without breaking down. I don't want to be afraid anymore… I don't… I don't know… I'm confused and scared and angry at the same time and it's exhausting. I don't know how to do this anymore…" His voice breaks somewhere in the middle of the last sentence and he tries to stop the trembling of his bottom lip.

Combeferre's eyes fill with tears and he has to bite his own lip. Enjolras has averted his gaze again and doesn't see how much trouble his friend has to keep himself from breaking down. With a strength greater than he thought he had, Combeferre forces himself to calm down and be the solid rock Enjolras wants to lean on. He reaches out once more and gathers Enjolras' hands in his own.

"My dearest friend…" Combeferre begins softly and he leans forward to press a light kiss on his forehead. "You are so very strict with yourself. You've been out of Bergen-Belsen for less than three months and you've only been with us for three weeks. Give yourself a break. You've experienced something horrible and you've seen things no human being should have to see… You're severely traumatized and it's nothing more than logical that you feel the way you do. You can't expect yourself to fully cooperate in a world that's so very different from the one you were forced to live in. It takes time and strength and exercise. You are no longer the person you were before the war, you told me that yourself, but you're also no longer the person you were in the camps. You need to discover who you are now, who you want to be and what your place is going to be in this world. And it might take months, maybe even years to figure that out, but that's okay. It is nothing to be ashamed about and we are the last people you need to be worrying about. We love you unconditionally, no matter what."

Combeferre tries to lift Enjolras' head to catch his eyes, but his friend doesn't allow him and shakes his head instead. When Enjolras lets out a trembling breath, Combeferre gathers his friend in his arms, and holds him close.

"You are right… What happened this afternoon scared me, scared us. Of course it scared us, Enjolras," Combeferre continued quietly. "But not because of the flashback or the panic attack, but because we didn't know what to do or how to help. We didn't know what it was that you remembered, we hardly know anything about what happened to you and we can never relate. This is new for us too and we need to find our way just as much as you do. But that doesn't mean we will ever stop trying. Of course not! All we want to do is help you as much as we can, be there for you whenever you need us. You and I, and all our friends, have followed different paths during the war and now that we're back together, we need to find out how we can move forward. Not only as individuals, but as a group as well. And we will find out how to do that, I'm certain of it, but it will take time and effort from every one of us."

Combeferre feels rather than sees Enjolras nod his head in agreement and he pulls back a little. When he looks at his friend, he notices the wetness on his pale face and the reaches out to thumb the tears away.

"It's hard," Enjolras admits in a slightly hesitating voice. "I really want to be my own person again… I hate that I'm afraid to go outside and see people. I'm scared of what others think when they see me… I'm ashamed of how I look and I hate that I can't even sleep in my own bed… I can't even really sleep in your bed either… I just wish I had the strength to control my emotions… But every time I step out of that comfort zone, only the slightest thing has to happen and I don't even know what's happening anymore. It's just so much easier to hide inside… to stay where it's safe, with people I trust. It's so much easier to not even try."

Combeferre nods, because he understands. Being silent and submissive is all Enjolras has known for a long period of time. It is all that he has seen as well, with prisoners who were in the same situation as he was. Combeferre can imagine how confusing it must be to suddenly realize that he is allowed to have a voice – that people expect him to speak his mind. It is as Grantaire said: Enjolras is stuck between wanting to be a person of is own again and being far too scared to take that step.

"Maybe…," Combeferre stops and clears his throat, "Maybe it would help if you'd talk a bit more about what happened. You keep everything bottled up inside and you have no one to share your memories with. Maybe… if you allow it to come out once in a while, it doesn't weigh you down us much as it does now. Maybe you'll be able to take back that control you want when you find a way to share those fears that hold you back now."

Enjolras sighs and shakes his head. He slowly pulls out of Combeferre's hold and turns on his back again, fixing his gaze at the ceiling. After a few minutes of silence, he speaks. "I can't 'Ferre… I can't talk about it to you… I don't want to… Besides, you don't want to know. Believe me, you don't."

Combeferre pushes himself up and looks down at his friend with a small smile. "I wasn't talking about myself, or about any of our friends for that matter." He sighs. "I know you don't want to tell me and even though I wish I knew what you have gone through, I understand that you can't talk about it to me… I meant something else… Or someone else."

"Like a therapist?" Enjolras asks quietly.

"More like a psychologist… someone who has experience with war trauma. Someone who you can tell your story to, or not tell your story to, but at least someone who knows how to help you get a grip on the things you're struggling with." Combeferre watches his friend closely, afraid that he may have been too bold in his suggestion. "It might be worth a try…"

Enjolras doesn't say anything for a long time and for a moment Combeferre fears he has ruined their conversation. It was an idea he had been walking around with for a while now, but he hadn't dared to say anything. Now that Enjolras so openly told him about his struggles, it seemed like the right time to mention it.

Combeferre is just about to take the words back and apologize when Enjolras turns his head and looks at him. He has tears in his eyes again, but there is a small smile playing around his lips. Then he nods and squeezes Combeferre's hand.

"Yes," he says soflty. "I think that too…"

TBC.

Finally another chapter done. I hope it was up to your expectations. Please let me know what you think and leave a little review, it would mean a lot!