It was on a cold, December afternoon that the guards came into his cell and released him from his shackles. They didn't take him to be punished, they didn't take him to be questioned. His time here was at an end. They could not keep him locked up any longer, not without the evidence they needed. So they took him past the other prisoners, past the torture room and past the large, wooden gate. They took him all the way outside, where they pushed him to the ground with a final kick to the stomach and then left him be. Snow slowly whirled down and came to rest on his clothes and his skin.

Enjolras shivered as the cold quickly crept into his bones. His body was broken and every movement hurt. For a moment, he just layed there, a miserable heap in front of the prison where he had been starved and tortured for days. It took him no less than fifteen minutes to gather enough strength to push himself up from the floor. He stumbled forth on trembling legs, set on getting to his apartment as fast as he could. He had to hold on to the walls to make sure he wouldn't fall and after every five minutes or so, he needed a moment to catch his breath.

Every inch of his back was on fire. After his trial, that was not even close to fair, Enjolras was sentenced by the court and condemned to a week in prison. His punishment included no food during his stay and 300 lashes spread out over the week. The wounds caused by the whipping never got a chance to heal and Enjolras wouldn't be surprised if most of them were infected. The prison cell's were hardly a hygienic place. His body was weak and his mind was dazed. But not once did he complain or beg. Not once did he scream or cry. He bore his punishment with his head held high.

Now though, with the adrenaline gone and no guards in sight, Enjolras felt his body give up. He made it halfway to his apartment until his legs buckled and he needed to take a break. Sweat trickled down his back and face and he was hot, though his body was freezing and shivering. A silent moan escaped his lips and he swallowed the lump in his throat. The sudden urge to curl up and cry overwhelmed him, but he refused to give in. He would just take a few minutes, just take a break, and then he would continue on. His friends were waiting for him. The cause was waiting for him. He mustn't linger.

"Enjolras?"

A voice brought him back from his ponderings. At first, he thought he had imagined it, but then there were hands gripping his shoulders and fingers brushing over his cheeks. His name was called again and Enjolras knew someone wanted his attention. Weakly, he lifted his head and looked at the person in front of him. His heart made a little jump at the sight. Of course he was there. He was always there.

"Enjolras… I thought I told you to wait for me," Combeferre said quietly, a worried frown on his face. "Did they release you early?"

Enjolras just blinked at him, trying his best to get back up and not show weakness, but Combeferre held him down. "What?" he whispered, voice thick and low.

"I said that I told you to wait for me. When I visited you yesterday, remember? I promised I would pick you up, help you home. You're terribly injured." Combeferre cupped Enjolras' cheek and brushed a stray tear away. He had feared something like this would happen. When he saw Enjolras yesterday, the man was very much out of it and hardly seemed to hear what he was saying. It was the first time Combeferre saw his friend after the trial and he'd been devastated to see what had been done to him. "Did they release you early?"

Enjolras frowned and tried to understand what was being said to him. Did Combeferre come to visit him yesterday? Did he remember? He closed his eyes and dug into his mind that was really nothing more than a haze of pain and humiliation. But then there was Combeferre's face and the worried eyes. And yes, Enjolras did remember then. "S-Sorry… I forgot," he whispered.

Combeferre kept a firm hold on Enjolras as he hauled his friend back up. He didn't miss the soft whimper nor the way the man's grip on his hand turned iron. He wasn't suprised. It was clear to him yesterday that Enjolras had to be in a lot of pain. The pale skin and bright red cheeks didn't do much to sooth his concern either.

"It's alright," He said, keeping his voice soft and gentle. "I'm here now. Let's get you home, yeah?" He took off his own coat and draped it around Enjolras' torn undershirt. The cold hit him hard, but that only made him more determined to keep the coat secure around Enjolras' frail body. "Joly is there and so is Courf. We'll take care of you."

Enjolras nodded and leaned much of his weight on his best friend. When Combeferre offered to carry him though, Enjolras refused. He would walk into his apartment on his own two feet. That much dignity he still had left and no one could take that away from him. As he expected, Combeferre understood and didn't push. But his friend remained very close and supported him as much as he could.

The walk home took them a long time, whereas, had Combeferre carried Enjolras, they would've been there within ten minutes. It frustrated the older man, but he wouldn't go against Enjolras' wishes. He knew how important it was for him to make it on his own. No matter the pain he was in or the way his whole body trembled viciously. His mind was still strong and Combeferre knew Enjolras refused to be carried as long as he was still conscious.

After nearly thirty minutes, they arrived at their apartment building. Once inside, Enjolras briefly looked up at the stairs. He lived on the fifth floor and that little fact had escaped his mind for a moment. There was no way he was going to be able to walk all those steps. Enjolras was willing to try, but he had enough insight in his condition to know that he wouldn't make it past ten steps. Tears of frustration sprang to his eyes and he clenched his teeth. He had made it so far…

Combeferre could see the struggle his friend was in and it broke his heart. He wanted to help, was desperate to do something. He carefully turned Enjolras around so that he could look the man in his eyes. Lifting his chin up, he smiled at his friend. "How about I carry you to the fourth floor? You can do the last steps on your own and still walk into your apartment under your own strength."

The proposition went against everything Combeferre's stood for and he knew that every other doctor, or every other man even, could see that Enjolras was in no state to walk stairs. It would take too much strength out of him, strength that he needed to get better and heal. But Combeferre knew Enjolras better than the man knew himself. He understood that his friend needed to walk in on his own for the sake of his own mind. Enjolras refused to be broken by the national guards and his time in prison and this included getting himself home on his own two feet. Once he was in his apartment and his friends were there, Enjolras would accept the help he needed, but this, he needed to do on his own.

It took Enjolras a couple of moments, but then he nodded. He didn't look at Combeferre though and the medical student knew it had everything to do with the tears he saw burning in his friend's eyes.

"Alright then, let's see," Combeferre said quietly. "I'm afraid I can't carry you without hurting your back, mon Ami… I'll try to be quick. If it is too much though, you'll tell me and we'll figure out something else. Here, put your arms around my neck. That's right… There we go."

Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut and grunted the moment Combeferre's arm came in contact with his back. Despite the coat he was wearing and the careful touch of his friend, the pain was still terrible. Though he did his best to keep his mouth shut, he couldn't hold back the quiet whimpers that fell from his lips every now and then. He knew Combeferre was being as careful as he could and he hated that the sounds he made were probably making his friend feel guilty. But he was too weak to keep them all in.

"We're here…" Combeferre murmured softly, when they got to the fourth floor. With the utmost care in the world, he lowered Enjolras to his feet and kept a firm hold so that he wouldn't fall. He allowed his friend a moment to get back to himself and pressed a gentle kiss against his temple. "Only six more steps from here and then you're home… Are you sure you want to do this by yourself?"

Enjolras nodded, squeezing Combeferre's hand to show him he was grateful for his friend's help. He kept a firm hold on the railing and pulled himself up inch by inch. Combeferre walked right behind him, ready to catch him should he fall. But Enjolras didn't fall. His mind was set on getting to his apartment and he would get there on his own. Like he promised himself.

And finally, after ten more minutes, Enjolras reached the top of the stairs. He was drenched in sweat and his muscles were trembling uncontrollably. Still though he remained upright and he looked back at Combeferre with a hint of a smile, waiting for his friend to hand him the keys. He opened the door and slowly stepped inside. The moment he did so, all strength left his body and he would've crashed to floor were it not for Combeferre's attention. Still though, it didn't matter. He made it home on his own and that was the most important thing. Now, he could gladly hand over control to his best friend.

Combeferre sighed as he took Enjolras in his arms and carefully carried him towards their living room, smiling sadly at Joly and Courfeyrac as he passed them. He gently laid Enjolras down on the sofa, with his back turned upwards, so that they could tend to his wounds. When he turned back around, he was met with two pairs of skeptical eyes and he sighed. "He insisted on walking in his apartment under his own strength. And yes, I know that it wasn't wise, but it was important to him and I couldn't deny him that bit of dignity."

Courfeyrac smirked at him, knowing very well how persuasive Enjolras could be, even in an injured state of mind. The smile soon disappeared from his face though when he saw what state Enjolras was in. Both he and Joly moved closer and winced when Combeferre removed his coat and the torn bits and pieces of Enjolras' shirt. His back was covered in cuts, bruises and welts. The sight horrible enough to bring tears to all of their eyes.

"Jesus Christ…," Courfeyrac gasped. "What the hell did they do to him in there?"

Combeferre sighed, crouching down to the couch and carding a hand through the blonde curls, hoping to bring Enjolras back to consciousness, but the man didn't move a muscle. "He was sentenced to 300 lashes with the whip, spread out over seven days, so his previous wounds didn't get a chance to heal and he wasn't given any food during his imprisonment."

Joly cursed. "That's abhorrent. All he did was defend an old lady and allow her the chance to walk away."

"Walk away with a stolen bread," Courfeyac said quietly. "Enjolras prevented them from catching someone who was a criminal in their eyes and therefore he was in the way of the law. Catching the wrong guard and judge, it was enough to get sentenced with these kinds of punishments."

"Look at him!" Joly exclaimed, taking a closer look to the bright red wounds. "He didn't do anything wrong, he even offered to pay for the bread. In what world does he deserve this for helping an older woman in need?"

Courfeyrac narrowed his eyes at his friend, not liking to be yelled at just because he told them what was the law. "I never said it was fair. Of course he doesn't deserve this."

"It doesn't matter now, does it," Combeferre interfered, giving both men a look. "We can't turn it back and what's done is done. We need to tend to him now. He's burning up, which means the wounds on his back are likely infected. We need to clean them, stitch them and cool them down."

Both Joly and Courfeyrac nodded and got to work. Joly and Combeferre inspected the numerous cuts and bruises on Enjolras' back, while Courfeyrac went to boil water and collect their medical supplies. After that, he crouched down in the same position Combeferre was in and gently kissed his friend's forehead. Looking a little more closer, he could see Enjolras' eyes moving behind their lids. Quietly, he started whispering words of comfort in Enjolras' ear, hoping to coax the blonde man back to consciousness. He didn't have to keep it up for long. Soon enough, Enjolras moaned lowly and his eyes fluttered open.

"Hey there sunshine," Courfeyrac said fondly, alerting both Combeferre and Joly to the fact that Enjolras had woken up. "Decided to join this party, huh?"

Enjolras stared at his friend for a moment, blinking a couple of times to get rid of his blurred vision. When he recognized Courfeyrac, he cracked a smile and whispered his name.

Courfeyrac's smile widened and he kissed Enjolras' forehead again. "Yeah that's right, I'm here. And so are Combeferre and Joly. We're going to fix you right up, you'll see. You'll be back on your feet before you know it."

Enjolras didn't say anything, but his eyes searched the room until he found Combeferre and Joly. It was harder than he thought it would be, lying on his stomach and all, and he winced when he twisted his body a little too far. He tried to smile at his friends, but he was sure it came across more like a grimace. His eyes followed Combeferre, who leaned in a little closer, smiled and put a hand on his forehead. Enjolras leaned into the touch.

"You're feeling a little warm to the touch, Enjolras," Combeferre said softly, though he wondered if his friend was even hearing him. "We need to clean those wounds right away and then you can rest up. I'm afraid we'll have to move you though."

At Courfeyrac's confused look, Combeferre swallowed. He didn't want to cause Enjolras more pain either, but they couldn't work around him while he was on the couch. "Joly and I both need to be able to take care of the wounds, we both need to able to stand at one of his sides. That's the quickest way we can do this. So we're moving him to the table, yeah?"

Joly nodded, but Courfeyrac still seemed hesitant. Enjolras looked miserable and it hurt his heart to cause him more pain than necessary. "Can't one of you just do it and he stays on the couch? He'll hurt if we move him…"

"Combeferre is right, Courf," Joly answered, walking over to the kitchen table and putting away the stuff that was on there. "If we only let one of us work on him, it'll take twice as long, which means he'll be in pain twice as long and the infection has more time to settle in. This is for the best. If you carry him over here, he'll suffer the least. One on each side of him."

It took a little effort and by the time they had Enjolras settled on the table, the man's face was stained with tears and sweat, but he hadn't made a sound and he had tried to help them as much as he could by keeping himself up on his own legs. Now that he was lying flat again, he closed his eyes and did his best to get his breathing back under control. He wasn't looking forward to the pain that he was bound to feel in a minute, but he knew it had to happen.

"Alright," Combeferre said softly, heart hammering in his chest. He hated seeing his best friend in pain and the fact that he and Joly were about to hurt him more, didn't do much to sooth his nerves. "Alright… let's start then… Joly, you take his upper back and shoulder blades, and I'll start working on his lower back. Courf… you talk to him, alright? Try to keep him conscious if you can and make sure he keeps breathing properly."

Courfeyrac nodded and sat down in a chair right next to Enjolras' head. He took both of his friend's hands in his own and squeezed them, waiting for a response. When Enjolras opened his eyes and looked at him, he smiled and squeezed again. "Almost done now, E… You just keep focusing on me, yeah? I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. And you can squeeze my hand as hard as you like and you can curse or shout or cry or whatever you want to. No judgement. It'll be over before you know it."

Enjolras had only just enough time to nod his head and squeeze Courfeyrac's hands in return, before he clenched his eyes shut and whimpered at the sudden pain that sliced through his body. The grip he had on Courfeyrac's hands turned iron and his breaths were coming out in short pants. The pain of cleaning the wounds and stitching them up was far more worse than the whole punishment had been. And Enjolras feared he would pass out soon, were it not for Courfeyrac's constant stream of reassurances and encouragements.

By the time Combeferre cut the tread of the last cut he stitched up, Enjolras was as pale as a sheet and his whole body was drenched in sweat. He was exhausted and the only thing keeping him awake was the occasional squeeze of his hands or the press of a kiss on his forehead or cheeks.

"It's over E… They're done now, you're alright… They'll just cool it down and then wrap it up, but that won't hurt much anymore. The worst is over yeah? Just try to stay awake for a bit longer. Can you do that for me?"

Enjolras swallowed, blinking slowly, and nodded. He didn't have the strength to answer his friend. All he really wanted to do was close his eyes and give into exhaustion, but Courfeyrac asked him to stay awake a little longer and his friend must have had a reason for it. He frowned though when he saw Courfeyrac stand from his chair and move out of his vision. Where was he going? He needed Courfeyrac to keep him grounded. Without his friends hands and gentle voice, Enjolras became far too much aware of the pain he was in.

"He'll be back soon, Enjolras," Combeferre said quietly, taking the seat Courfeyrac had just abandoned. He reached out, carding a hand through Enjolras' sweat soaked curls and gave him a small smile. "Joly will bandage your back in a moment, but you won't feel much of it. And Courf is getting some snow that we will use to cool your body down and help with the swelling and the welts."

Enjolras only gave him an empty look. He was already too far gone to process what was being said to him, but he liked looking at Combeferre's gentle face and his genuine smile. Very slowly, he reached out and took his friend's hand, squeezing it with the little strength he had left.

"I'm proud of you, mon Ami," Combeferre said, bringing Enjolras' hand up to his mouth and kissing the knuckles. "I know it hurt like hell, but you did very well. It's almost over now. And then you can sleep and take the rest you desperately need." He leaned forward and pressed another soft kiss against Enjolras' temple. He was incredibly glad to have Enjolras back home again. The past week had not been easy. Combeferre knew how horrible conditions in prison were and he hated that his best friend had to stay there fors even days. Especially considering the other punishments he'd gotten. It was a miracle the infections weren't that bad with all the filth and germs festering in those cells. It could've been a whole lot worse.

Enjolras closed his eyes for a moment. "Tired…," he murmured, his voice so soft, Combeferre almost missed it.

"I know you're tired. Only a little longer, alright? It's almost over. Once we've got you tucked away in bed, you can sleep, I promise."

And the three friends made good on their promise. They carefully carried Enjolras towards the bedroom where they laid him down on his stomach, his head cushioned on a soft pillow. They made quick work of his clothing, leaving him in nothing but his undergarments. Then Joly wrapped the wounds in a soft bandage and covered his entire back with cold snow. It wasn't pleasant, but it was necessary. They needed to get the swelling down and the cold prevented the infection to spread. Besides, Enjolras was far too much gone to be bothered by it anyway.

"There you go, Enj," Courfeyrac smiled, brushing a curl behind his ear. "You're all settled now. You can go to sleep and you can sleep as long as you want or need. Me and 'Ferre will be here the whole time and Joly will return in the morning. You don't need to worry about a thing, alright?"

Courfeyrac laid down on the bed next to his friend. He was careful of his injuries as he reached out an arm and drew gentle circles across Enjolras' arm and shoulder. Combeferre sat down in the chair next to his friend's bed, a fond smile on his face as he watched Courfeyrac comfort Enjolras. His friend was practically asleep, but still fought to keep his eyes open. Combeferre reached out the squeeze his friend's hand and get his attention. "Courf is right, Enjolras. You can go to sleep. You should sleep. Just give into it, it's alright. You're safe here."

And that finally did it. That was what Enjolras needed to hear. He nodded and gave Combeferre a small smile. Then his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. "Thank you," he mumbled. He was fast asleep.