Epilogue – Part I: Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

 Oh my friends, my friends don’t ask me,

What your sacrifice was for.

Empty chairs at empty tables,

Where my friends will sing no more…

 ~~**~~

When Grantaire woke, the world around him was silent. At first he could not remember anything, something the effects alcohol regularly had on him. His head was throbbing, his hands clammy, and there were large purple bags under his blue eyes. Belching, the young drunk shifted in his uncomfortable position; something rolled underneath him. When he saw the dark green glass of wine bottles, memories stirred. The sound of gunfire and screaming, the rumbling of the ground underneath him, a flicker of red and blue flashing past his vision; not acknowledging his presence. The last was… a girl, a girl with golden hair. Grantaire sighed with confusion, trying to wipe a hand across his brow, when he noticed the bottle he was holding. Joleigh had given him that. It was Joleigh! Now he remembered her words. Goodbye?  What was that about? She was going to the meeting room, maybe the rest of Les Amis were celebrating the victory. He had missed it after all, sleeping in the wine alcove through the attack; Enjolras was surely going to shout at him. The thought made Grantaire groan loudly. He hated when Enjolras shouted at him. All he wanted…all he ever wanted…oh never mind, there was no point in delving on the subject of his wishes as he knew they would never come true. The drunk pushed himself up using the wall, and stumbled out of the alcove kicking the empty bottles around him. There were two things he noticed when he reached the banister. The first was the silence. Looking left and right, no one was around, and there wasn’t even the typical street noise. The second was the mess. The bannister was broken, below he could see broken glass on the stairs, and chairs were pushed over, the windows shattered. Grantaire grumbled something along the lines of ‘It’s worse than my place’ before he caught sight of the bodies. His eyes widened with shock. From above he could only see a leg, though as he staggered down the steps, he saw them. The three bodies of Combeferre, Joly and Courfeyrac lay in a mangled heap, blood staining the wooden floorboards around them. Grantaire couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t move. He just stared at his friends, the look of pain frozen on their faces, the paleness of their skin. What had he missed? What had happened? Goodbye Grantaire...

And then it clicked. Words cannot describe how fast Grantaire clambered back up the stairs.

When he staggered through the doorway to the meeting room, the scene he was greeted with made him freeze. The world seemed to stop. 

“No…” was all he could manage. All other words just trailed off. It wasn’t a statement, but neither an exclamation. Either way, Grantaire then let out a dreadful heart-wrenching cry. He saw the legs of Enjolras on the window ledge. The rest of his Apollo’s body was dangling out of sight. Below him was Joleigh. Her frail body seemed shattered on the ground; arms outstretched towards the wall, her face turned away, stains of red on her dress. “No-no…” The drunk stumbled across the room, shaking his head, insuring out loud that this was just one of his terrible drunken dreams. But when he got to the bodies, and looked out the window, Grantaire knew it was real. Enjolras hung like a ragdoll, unmoving except for the slight rustle of the slipping red flag in his suspended grasp. This was the sight the young man could not take. “Enjolras?” His voice was barely over a whisper. He did not get a reply. Grantaire’s eyes welled. “Enjolras?” He asked again and again. Nothing. With a grieving moan the drunk grasped the torso of his Apollo and pulled it back inside the room. Grantaire collapsed to his knees beside the body. He shivered violently. “Enjolras, wake up!” His voice cracked behind a clenched jaw. “Please…” Grantaire stared at the closed eyes, the beautiful and stern complexion etched on his leader’s face that was stained in red. Then the tears fell; one by one, each large droplet splashing onto the fabric of Enjolras’ coat. “Please!” Grantaire wailed and fell upon the body. He hugged Enjolras’ limp figure, entwining his fingers into those golden curls, pressing his head into his neck to stifle his cries. Now Grantaire knew that Enjolras was gone, for if he were alive he would not have tolerated Grantaire to hold him in that way. The dark haired man sobbed and shifted upwards so he looked down on Enjolras’ face. “Why did you do this? Why?” Grantaire whispered hoarsely, tenderly dragging a finger across the dead man’s jaw, “You…you-” The young drunk sighed in sobriety.

"My Apollo." He whispered. The words rang out in the silence, dragging through the air as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds and shone into the room. “You’ll never…” Grantaire swallowed hard and fell back on his heels, closing his eyes as the light poured through the window; one hand resting lightly on Enjolras’ glimmering curls, the other trying to wipe away the tears. The pain was unbearable.

That’s when he heard a rustle from behind him. Grantaire’s head snapped around. All he saw was the corpse of Joleigh. It could have been his imagination. But then there was a soft whimper of agony that came from the body. Was Joleigh…? Grantaire stared in horror. She couldn’t be?

“-Taire…” The speech was almost inaudible, so quiet and shaken that even the silence seemed to muffle it, but Grantaire heard.

 “Joli!” he cried out, scrambling over to her body.

 “Gran…taire…” Joleigh rasped. Her blue eyes were bloodshot; her skin was white and her golden hair had faded to a sickly color. It was if she had aged with the death she had witnessed. When she saw looked at him, it was if she was looking through him. “Grantaire…is it you?” She coughed, a painful smile appearing on her chapped lips. 

“Yes, it’s me! It’s Grantaire! Joleigh, I’m here.” Grantaire pulled her body onto his lap, so her head was cradled on his knees. He saw the blood on her dress, showing the puckered bullet wounds on the light fabric. Besides one seeping in her shoulder, there were many more injuries to her torso. Grantaire gasped when he saw them. How long had she been suffering like this? Joleigh did not deserve to suffer in such horrid agony! “Joleigh, I…” He struggled for words, tears blurring his vision again. “I’m so sorry…” Grantaire managed at last. Joleigh only looked up at him with round eyes. “You saved me from the Guard, why? You deserve to live not me-“

“Do not talk like that.”  She said softly. Her eyes clenched closed for a bit as a shudder erupted through her body.

“I-I didn’t join…I didn’t fight…with them – my friends…“ Grantaire sobbed. “And I had a choice, in my head, when you saved me, I could have stopped you, but-“

“I chose this myself, you must understand this-it’s my own fault. ”

 “But why?” Grantaire cried. “Joleigh, you can’t leave me too! Please don’t go-Enjolras…he’s…” his words got caught in his throat as he turned his head to look at his beloved. “I just- I can’t - you will live! Joli, you’re going to live!” The tears tumbled down his cheeks to the corners of his mouth. “It’s too soon! To soon- to say goodbye…” 

“Hush now…” Joleigh slowly moved her hand up with what strength she had left to brush away the tears; as she had done many times when they were young. “Forbid me now to die. I’ll obey, I will try…” Grantaire shook his head defiantly, but stopped when he accepted it, and instead leaned into her cool touch, pressing his own hand against hers. “Take…my hand…” He obeyed and entwined their fingers. “It’s turned so cold…”

“Oh, Joleigh - please…don’t…” Grantaire sobbed harder, but Joleigh gave his shaking hand a tender squeeze. “I don’t want to be alone.” He whispered. 

“You’ll be okay. I promise.” She soothed as another terrible ripple went through her. “-Taire, I don’t have long,” Joleigh gasped in agony, “The light is fading…the darkness comes without a warning…”

“Be at peace, be at peace evermore.” Grantaire cradled her in his arms. Joleigh looked up at him and smiled sadly, tears falling from the corners of her eyes and into her hair.

 “I’ll always be there.” She breathed. “And..and…I’ll – we’ll,” Joleigh looked with her eyes to where Enjolras lay. “All of us – we’ll watch over you from above. Because we love you. So much.” Grantaire whimpered with a trembling nod. The young girl smiled. “Now, I want you to do something for me...”

 “Anything-”

 “Look to the sky Grantaire, out the window over there,” Joliegh took a deep breath when he looked down at her with doubt. Slowly, Grantaire gazed up and out of the window, his eyes now blinded by the light that shone through. “Now, keep looking, and tell me, what do you see?” Joleigh coughed in his embrace, but he missed the blood staining her lips. Grantaire saw the clouds, he saw the sun beaming through them and patches of blue sky, he saw the light of the morning awakening a new day. The whole view caught Grantaire in a moment of deep content, a moment where he forgot everything and fell into a pool of tranquility. He smiled before turning away from the light to look down at her.

“I see-“ The words caught in his throat. Joleigh’s hand went limp; her blue eyes had glazed over, almost turning a clear grey, her pink lips were turned upwards in a calm smile. When an angel dies it looses its glow. “-a new beginning.” He finished sadly. Grantaire swallowed hard and with a shaking hand closed her eyes. He set Joleigh’s body carefully back on the ground before scrambling to the far wall. There he hugged his knees and sighed into the dirty fabric. Grantaire’s blue eyes were stinging from so many tears and his breathing was ragged and slow.  

“Oh, my friends, my friends forgive me…” He sniveled. “That I live and you are gone.” Joleigh, Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Combeferre and Joly and probably everyone - dead. Grantaire was alone. He had never been so terrified. The only thing that ran through his mind was that he didn’t deserve life. Dragging a hand through his messy black curls and rolling his shoulders, Grantaire looked about the destroyed room. The tables and chairs were strewn about; glass was broken, dust had settled as if it was already history. A pot of flowers had shattered in the corner near the emptied bar. Was that Jehan's? Grantaire leant his head back against the wall and frowned. His body screamed for the comfort of absinthe, the drink could make him forget everything and settle him into a pool of darkness. Grantaire was disgusted with himself. No, no he wasn’t going to drink anymore. What was the point? The only reason he drank was because of…him. Enjolras. Because the headstrong leader refused his love. Now Enjolras is dead... All that crossed his mind was that he should join them in that garden in heaven; it would be so easy. There was probably a loaded gun somewhere around here-

But there something or someone at the back of his mind was pushing him to carry on; that what Joleigh said meant something. A new beginning. Was it for her? Or possibly for him? Did Joleigh mean that he should start again? Grantaire pondered the thought. Maybe he could. Yes, maybe that was it. Start anew! Grantaire pushed himself up, with a new energy. The National Guard would be back, and so would other people, to take the dead away. He looked at Enjolras and Joliegh. They looked helpless, like they died for nothing. Grantaire wiped his eyes roughly and walked over to them. This was not the way to leave a message. Learnt from his peers Grantaire knew that a message could be important. He carefully picked up Joleigh and laid her next to her fiancée, moving their engagement hands together to make them look as if they were holding hands. Then Grantaire gathered Jehan's scattered flowers from the vase in the corner and placed them in between their entwined fingers. For a final touch he took the red flag from Enjolras’ grasp and laid it over the bodies. He admired his work. The golden couple only looked as if they were sleeping as the flag covered their wounds. The sun shone through the window and casted it’s light over them. Their souls were with God now. Grantaire said a prayer and bent over both of them. He planted a tender kiss to Joleigh’s brow and then moved to Enjolras. Grantaire sighed in woe, fingering a golden curl fondly, just wishing those blue eyes he loved would open. But what is done is done. He gently moved the curls and lightly placed his lips on Enjolras’ cold skin. Grantaire lingered there for a while before leaning back on his heels.

“Sleep well ma soeur et mon amour.” He whispered. “I’ll make you proud. You’ll see. This wasn’t for nothing.” Grantaire pushed himself up, and with a single look back, ran from the café. The drunk had joined the cause at last, and was never going to back down. In their name, his task had just begun…       

“Grantaire is nothing now…” He muttered, almost smiling to himself. 

~~**~~         

My poor little 'Taire! *sniffles* 

I'm actually kind of doubting this chapter as I don't think I really captured how hreatbroken Grantaire would be at this site! His love AND all his friends are gone. Ack! I don't think I did it justice, but we all get the jist of how sad this would be...

Now, Grantaire is off! I wonder where he went?!

Hmmm....

I guess we'll find out in the ABSOLUTE LAST CHAPTER/POST EVER. Then there will be no more posts to this story! Sad days, eh? :'(

Well, I'll leave the long Author's Note for that one. Please tell me what you think, comment everything below!  

Love you,

Grantaire/Kat xx