When I met Awad Mahmoud el-Abedy, a 36-year-old tour guide, on Feb. 4, he was manning a pile of stones at the southern entrance to Tahrir Square and had the wild-eyed disheveled look of a freedom fighter. "I am here to die," he said, having spent several sleepless nights in defense of the massive traffic circle in downtown Cairo that had become the epicenter of Egypt's revolution. At the time, el-Abedy was joined by tens of thousands of men and women with a similar defiant passion and one unifying goal. "The goal is for Mubarak to step down," he said of Egypt's then President Hosni Mubarak. "After Mubarak steps down, I want to follow him and kill him in the square."
How times change. Two months later, Mubarak has stepped down.

The constitution has been amended via popular referendum. And Egypt's Supreme Council of the Armed Forces, headed by Field Marshall Mohamed Hussein Tantawi, is in temporary control of the country. Mubarak has yet to be executed, or even tried. But el-Abedy is one of many early protesters who admit that fresh circumstances call for fresh perspectives. Says he: "We wanted everything quickly - for Mubarak to be killed here in Tahrir and for the system to go away with the wind. It takes time. We have to understand that." The economy has stalled, and el-Abedy's tourists have disappeared. "We need to start the active, normal life again," he says.

And yet, Tahrir Square is once again closed to traffic - the roads leading into it are blocked by fresh piles of stones and heavy coils of concertina wire. Once more, for a sustained number of days, it has become a space of defiance, after the Egyptian military used violent force to crack down on a Friday protest that had spilled into the wee hours of Saturday morning. The protesters had been condemning the military's detention and abuse of protesters and calling for continued pressure on the military to follow through with the prosecution of Mubarak-era officials. Two protesters were killed by gunshots, and scores of others were wounded in the clashes.

But, in the days following the violence, even as visitors to the square survey the burnt wreckage of a bus and a truck, there has been anything but consensus as to what has happened to the so-called Jan. 25 Revolution. "Down, down with Tantawi," shout the scattered pockets of protesters who remain, in reference to the head of Egypt's military leadership. "The people and the army are of one hand," a few others scream back in opposition.

The sidewalks and broken pavement are the scene of vigorous debate. Next to KFC, artists have painted an illustration of fire and bloodshed on a tall stretch of plywood. It depicts soldiers shooting civilians, protesters carrying their wounded away. But as spectators gather to view the artwork, debates ensue whether the scene represents a generalization about the armed forces or an accurate depiction of a few bad men. "The armed forces have done good things and bad things," says Emad Mohamed Sharqawi, a mechanic, in defense of the illustration. "They're just showing what happened here. We're talking about a few people."

For some, the weekend's clashes proved that the protesters have continued to take the battle too far, pushing the army - an ally that helped topple Mubarak - to the point of confrontation, and potentially derailing the path to reform. They argue that now is not the time to confront the military, however imperfect it may be; it's a time to rebuild a battered economy and prepare for a new political system. "They are destroying the country," said one bystander in disgust on Sunday, as a few hundred young people continued to chant.

For others, however, the violence - unleashed suddenly on the protesters who had camped out from Friday afternoon's demonstration - confirm their worst fear: the army is not on the side of the revolution after all. "Why did all of this happen?" cries Nadi Ayat, an outraged government bureaucrat. "In the dark of the night, they attacked innocent people. Why? Because they're asking for democracy?"

For el-Abedy, it's so much more complicated than that. It's about striking the right balance. "I agree with the protesters," he said on Sunday, glancing at the small crowds, then at the garbage and rock piles in the same spot where he stood boldly two months before. "But to try to break down the city and the square again, it's not O.K."
Stepping into a cafe on the edge of Tahrir Square, where he used to take tour groups, el-Abedy sits down with a cup of coffee. "Protesters can't be protesters all the time. We need time to drink the Nescafe," he gestures to his glass. "You have to stop to think, to see, to evaluate. And then you can start again." In his free time without tourists, the international-affairs graduate is forming a political party. He's participating in discussions about policy at the nearby journalists' union. That's not to say he's against the occasional Friday protest. The military needs pressure every now and then to keep it on the right track, he says. "The message is: we can gather the Egyptian people again. We are ready. We are aware," he says. But by 9 p.m., it's time to go home; it's best to let life in the square go on. And: "It's not wise to clash with Tantawi."

As he speaks, a lively debate outside - over the details of Saturday morning's violence - turns into a shoving match and spills into the cafe, toppling tables and smashing tea glasses before the cafe owners force it back out. "Better to stay out of Tahrir," el-Abedy laughs.

On Sunday, however, Mubarak himself seemed to provide the revolutionaries with encouragement. For the first time since he was toppled, the ex-President spoke to the Egyptian people, via a prerecorded speech broadcast by al-Arabiya satellite channel. "I can't remain silent toward the campaigns of falsehood, slander and defamation and the continuous attempts to ruin my and my family's reputation and integrity," he said. Allegations that he and his family used their positions in power to amass wealth and properties were false, he added. Many Egyptians said they found the speech to be insulting.

Shortly afterward, the country's Attorney General formally summoned Mubarak and his family before the court. It was a victory for many of those who protested Friday, and even for those who remain in Tahrir. On Monday, small groups of protesters continued to chant against the military even as others saw that the military had been sufficiently persuaded to keep up the good work. "I think if every Friday, we take one more step in the right direction of the revolution, that will be good. We have to be patient," says el-Abedy. "We still have some trust in the army that they are from us, and we are from them."