» the doctor and the cynic - a doctor who/les miserables au
He slept through the chaos, the screams, the sound of guns. He woke when it was over. There was blood in the streets. His friends’ corpses were laid out in a line. Little Gavroche, far to clever for his age, now “slept” next to his sister. Combeferre, he kept everyone safe; he looked after them all. They were nothing without him, aimless. Courfeyrac. Handsome clever Courfeyrac with a smile that could melt the hearts and open the legs of any woman in France. He would smile no more. But a thought occurred to him. A spark of hope ignited within Grantaire. He thought maybe if his Apollo still lived then his survival might be worth it. He should have known better. If everyone else lay dead, there was no way Enjolras would be alive as well. He was no coward like Grantaire. Enjolras would sooner die than be taken alive.
Carefully, solemnly, Grantaire climbed the steps to the second floor. He saw the bloodstains on the floor and wondered which of his friends they belonged to. That spark was dashed when he looked to the window. First he saw the blood on the wall and then in the window a pair of boots. As he approached he saw a red flag blowing in the wind. He moved closer and saw the body to which the boots belonged. Grantaire reached out the window and struggled to pull Enjolras back in by his belt. He sat with his back against the wall and held Enjolras’ lifeless body in his arms until someone came to collect it. Even then they had to forcefully remove Enjolras from Grantaire’s arms. Then he was alone. Completely alone. He walked aimlessly down a street, unaware of anyone around him, with a bottle in his hand. R had no destination. He thought briefly about joining Enjolras and the others, but Grantaire knew that he would never earn Enjolras’ respect, much less love, if he took his own life.
He could try to start again. Use Enjolras’ sacrifice to stir the people. But what good would that do? Grantaire was a useless drunk. Everyone knew it. It took belief to stir people. It took passion. He never had much faith in Enjolras’ cause, just in Enjolras. Always, only Enjolras. No one would follow him and the only ones who might were dead. Without belief, it would have been a hollow cause and Enjolras would never have stood for that.
So where did that leave Grantaire now? It left him alone in an alley with a bottle of brandy. It left him in the right place at the right time….
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