Hello my Lovelies! Sorry it's been so long, my muse is on vacation apparently... But here I am with with part three of what is now to be a four part story! YAY! (part four's really epilougy...)

I hope you enjoy! And to those who also read Amber... I PROMISE that next chapter will be up really soon! Hopefully within the week...

Also, don't forget to review! :)

Warning: Dark, also fluff and possible major OOC for Enj...

Disclaimer: Nope ;)

"Apollo." And then moves no more.

"Yes R, I'm here! I'm right here, no please Grantaire you can't leave, keep fighting! Keep fighting!" Enjolras screams, shaking the lifeless man in his arms. The rest have gathered near the door, but most can't take the sight, the sounds. Éponine is buried in Combeferre's shirt, soaking it through. Jehan mirrors this with Courfeyac. Joly is desperately pleading with the ambulance to hurry, this kind of trauma beyond his training. Bahorel's fighting with the bar keep, yelling at the man's stupidity. It takes all of Feuilly's strength to hold the fighter back and avoid a brawl.

Finally sirens break the night silence and paramedics burst through. Enjolras at first refuses to let go, but the strong arms of Bousset pull him back as he thrashes. It takes paramedics almost five minutes to find signs of life, they nearly give up after three until they notice the artist's finger twitch and lean towards his chest to hear the faint echo of a beating heart.

He's on a stretcher and loaded into an ambulance. Paramedics say he's not only overdosed, but he's got alcohol poisoning as well. His stomach needs to be pumped among other things. The information that scares Enjolras the most is the paramedic announcing,

"You lot were lucky, ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, your friend would've been long gone."

Enjolras looked up, tear stricken.

"So there's hope?" He asked, cursing how weak and pathetic his voice sounded.

The paramedic hesitated, but eventually nodded slowly.

"Well, more than there would've been."

They all argue Enjolras should be allowed to ride in the back. He's surprised they do this because it's his fault Grantaire's even in an ambulance, but he doesn't argue. He spends the ride trying to stay out of the medic's ways while still clutching to Grantaire's hand for dear life, pressing his lips to them everyone once and a while. He cries the three times Grantaire flat lines, he cries again when the paramedics manage to revive him each time.

At the hospital, he's forced away from Grantaire as he's rushed into the ER. He's lucky Combeferre and Courfeyac arrive moments after he did because they both restrain him.

"They know what they're doing." Courfeyac comforts.

"He's gonna be ok Enj, you've got to calm down." Combeferre pleads as they lead the man back to the chairs.

Three hours. Three hours of not knowing and agony is what plague Enjolras and the rest of them. Three hours of pacing, crying, vomiting (Everything hit him again in a more violent manner at hour two), even praying. Hour three is almost up when a white coat comes out to find them.

"Nicholas Grantaire?"

Enjolras is on his feet and in the man's face in moments. Taking the man's shoulders, much to his friends' protests, he asks,

"He's ok right? Please, please tell me he's alright."

The doctor's startled, but regains composure moments later, extracting and placing a hand on the troubled man's shoulder.

"Son, he's gone through hell and back, but something," the doctor paused. "Someone kept him fighting."

Enjolras could feel the tears well around his ice blue orbs, he didn't have it in him anymore the wipe away the tear the escaped it's ocular prison and slip down his cheek.

Joly stepped forward with Combeferre to get into specifics with the doctor, but before the questions could be asked, Enjolras had one of his own.

"Doctor? Can I see him? Is he awake?"

This is when the doctor hesitated.

"Son, you can go see him, but the one part we have no control over is when he's going to wake up. Right now we have him in a medically induced coma to help him heal from everything he put his body through. After that, we're not sure when he'll wake."

Enjolras fought back a cry of anguish, simply nodding.

"They say it helps the process if a loved one talks to them, he's right down the hall, no one's stopping you from visiting Enj."

Combeferre urged, pushing his friend towards the room. Enjolras nodded and took off in the direction given.

The sight in the room brought him to a halt. He grabbed the doorframe for support. Grantaire was on the bed, extremely pale, so pale his arms might've been mistaken for the sheets if they were covered in his course brown hair. He had multiple tubes and wires protruding from his mouth and arms. A heart monitor to the left kept a steady pulse and his chest rose and fell faintly, but his wrists were wrapped in stark white gauze.

"Oh Taire, why? Why am I such a fool." Enjolras breathed, pulling up a chair and taking one of Grantaire's hands in his own. He brought it slowly to his lips and pressed the limp limb hard.

The picture remains as this, Enjolras's hand infused with Grantaire's, the chair groaning under the constant weight of guilt and prayer, Enjolras's lip glued to the cool pale knuckles that have fist bumped, beat the air with joyous celebration, and clutched the very man who now held it in silent comfort. The others filter in and out in often silent observation, both at Grantaire's state and at Enjolras's vigil. Musichetta, who finally came in nearly a fortnight after it all happened (and nearly a fortnight since Grantaire's beautiful coffee orbs took in the world.), little Gavroche, just five (and a half he'd insist.) trained on her hip and snoozing in the crook of her neck, finally talks to the statue.

"Enj, you haven't moved in two weeks, you need to rest."

"I can't." He whispers, his voice is hoarse and when he meets Musichetta's eyes, hers well with tears. He's haggard. His own skin, usually a healthy tan, was now gaunt and pale, the skin around his face sagged and his eyes were black with lack of sleep. His crystal blue eyes where cloudy, watery, and red rimmed and his curls, oh his lushes halo so full of live and passion, was dull and listless, the metaphoric light that Grantaire so adored was nearly out.

"Oh babe," she whispered. "Taire will have a heart attack when he sees what you've done to yourself." She attempts in vain to lighten the mood, smiling slightly when his cracked lips split slightly, but it's gone as soon as it came. His eyes train back to his love.

"What if I leave and he's not here when I come back? I can't lose him Chetta, I can't." A single tear slips down his pale cheeks.

"Oh, Enj, he's stable now, he's going to be alright." Enjolras let out a hollow laugh that soon mixed with a horrific sob.

"Then why hasn't he woken? Why am I still damned to this hell seeing him practically dead in front of me? Taire? Taire, please wake up." He pleaded with the man, Musichetta held back a sob with her hand.

"Is this my punishment?" He shouted, rising from his chair with such speed, he knocked it to the ground.

"Enj." Musichetta tried, but to no avail, Enjolras continued his rant.

"Is this how you punish complete and absolute asses? Men who never know what's important and precious to them until they've fucked it up so much it's gone? Why not just kill me, put me in this bed, take me instead, take me so I don't have to watch my-my." Enjolras stumbled slightly, choking on a horrific sob and nearly collapsing. The others, who were right down the hall during Musichetta's attempt at an intervention, ran to the room. Every member of the group, even Cosette who was wrapped deeply in Marius's embrace, were witness to their leader's breakdown, but he didn't notice a single one.

"My-the man I love die." He finished in a whisper before collapsing on the bed, both arms draped over Grantaire's still form, tears soaking the hospital's starch sheets.

The rest were silent for what felt like an eternity. Cosette had turned to soak Marius's jumper, Éponine was shaking her head in disbelief, her hand reaching for Combeferre's comfort. Jehan and Courfeyac held each other, Bahorel turned to Feuilly for an embrace, Bousset and Joly flanked their love's sides and Gavroche, well he'd just woken up to this sight.

The small child blinked sleep from his eyes and took in the sight, his heroes, his family all broken, he turned to see two of his biggest heroes at the center of the scene; Grantaire sleeping and Enjolras crying over him. Gavroche didn't understand what was happening; he also didn't understand what Enjolras meant when he whispered,

"Please R, come back to me."

But he did notice the slight movement coming from Grantaire's hand, a twitch, barely there, but there nonetheless.

"Ahr." The boy mumbled, his struggle with his 'r's still evident.

The twitch became more pronounced, as did Gavroche's squirming.

"Ahr! Ahr! Ahr!" He cried, bouncing in Musichetta's lap.

The others looked away, Jehan let out an beastly sob at the little boy's cries, but Enjolras looked up… and found two coffee orbs meeting his.

"You only had to ask Apollo." His voice was hoarse and faint, but it was there and it was directed to him.

Enjolras couldn't put words together, he simply launched himself into his love's arms and wept. The other's noticed the sudden cry of joy and unburied themselves from their embraces to see Enjolras practically buried in the crook of Grantaire's neck, shaking both of them with his sobs, but it was Grantaire's very alive and very awake comforting arm rubbing circles onto Enjorlas's back that made cause for celebration. After moments of sharing this moment with his love, without a second thought, amidst the celebration of their friends Enjolras pulled Grantaire into a sitting position and nearly slammed their heads together, capturing the cynic's lips with his own.

The room went silent, Grantaire stiffened, too shocked to know how to react. The group watched with baited breath as Enjolras pulled away, his cheeks stained to match his favorite hoodie. Grantaire was frozen as well, bringing a heavily bandaged hand, one still hooked onto to an IV drip, up to his pink lips. Enjolras was ready to mutter apologies and rush from the room, but Grantaire, with surprising speed and strength, grabbed the back of Enjolras's head, securing his hold with his god's curls and brought their lips centimeters apart once more.

"Took you long enough you bloody dolt." And once again their lips were one.

"You'd think they'd at least remember there's a child in the room." Joly sighed, moving to cover Gavroche's eyes.

Bahorel let out a deep belly laugh. "With the hell they've gone through and back, we'll be lucky if they notice anything or anyone for at least another fortnight."

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The final bit will be up soon! As will Thénardier's hospital scene in Amber :)

Until then Lovelies! :D