2Summary: What if Grantaire, during that final battle, woke up a few seconds later? Oneshot.
Warning - it might make you cry...
Too Late
Grantaire woke up to the sound of gunfire. Well, not really woke, he emerged from the dark murky depths of an alcohol induced coma. Where am I? What's going on? He thought blearily to himself. Suddenly, it all came flooding back to him: the barricade. A torrent of images bombarded him, overwhelming him for a moment – gunfire, smoke, blood and death. Lots of death.
The sound of guns that he had heard finally registered in his hungover brain. Oh God, who was that? Before he even knew it, he was out of his chair and staggering up the stairs to the upper floors of the Café Musain. Grief struck him as he saw the body of Bahrol on the stairs. No… Through immense willpower that he didn't know he possessed, he continued up to the first floor. There, a much worse sight greeted him. The still cooling corpses of Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Joly lay on the floor, their lifeless eyes devoid of the glints of laughter and flames of passion that he usually saw there.
From there, he stumbled up the last flight of stairs, reeling in shock from what he had just witnessed. But there was still one person he knew to be missing, looking at the numerous bodies from the window. He had yet to see the golden halo of hair that was Enjolras.
As Grantaire raced up the last part of the stairs, he heard guns being loaded. NO! With a surprising burst of speed, he burst into the room to see twelve National Guard members aiming their guns at Enjolras. Grantaire was frozen in shock. Apollo, cornered, defeated? Not feasible.
For a moment, their gazes met across the room and Enjolras' expression visibly brightened, and he stood a little straighter, the revolution ablaze in his eyes.
Then, two things happened at once; Grantaire started forward to join Enjolras in death, as he hadn't done in life, and the Guard captain shouted, "Fire!"
Eight bullets pierced Enjolras, pinning to the wall, the red flag that he had been holding defiantly was hanging out of the window. Grantaire, in rushing forward, only received one bullet, in his upper thigh. He reached Enjolras and cradled the body in his arms, heedless of the blood pouring from his leg. A cry that stared as a scream and finished as a sob escaped Grantaire. He continued to sit there, rocking back and forth, clutching Enjolras' body in a death grip, sobbing as if all he had ever loved and stood for had been ripped away – which it had.
An officer raised his gun to shoot, but the captain held up a hand to stop him.
"Stop, leave this man be."
"Sir…?"
"He will die anyway, and if he doesn't then living without his friend is punishment enough. Enough lives have been taken today." With that, they left. Leaving Grantaire all alone.
"Why Apollo, why? You've left me and now I'm alone. But I guess this was destined to happen, a cynic among optimists. Your lights were going to burn brightly, but briefly, making the world a better place by just existing, but me? My light isn't bright enough for me to see my feet. I'm an alcoholic and a depressed one at that. It was always my fate to be alone." With that he let out a bitter laugh. "I wonder what you would say to me now, if you could see me. 'Give up and go back to your bottle' or 'Get over yourself'. Something like that." Here he stopped and resumed crying, cradling Enjolras' body like it was the most precious thing in the world. "But I'll never know because you're not here. You're GONE! FOREVER! And I'm alone…" He buried his head into Enjolras' chest and wept for what seemed like hours.
"You're not alone." A voice whispered, illuminating the darkness. Grantaire looked up, confused. "Come with me." He would know that voice anywhere.
"Enjolras." He breathed, scared that he would make Enjolras disappear.
"Yes, it's me." But instead of fading away, he became clearer. "Take my hand, I'll leave you to salvation." Grantaire got to his feet and walked towards Enjolras, slowly then with more confidence, not sparing a glance at his body, still, even in death, with Enjolras.
As their hands met, began to see more faces: Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Bahrol, Joly, Bosset, Feuilly, Jehan; all his friends. With him there, Les Amis de l'ABC were reunited forevermore.
Do you hate me now? Don't say I didn't warn you!
Please, please review and tell me what you think!
:)