LOVELIES! I know... It's been forever again, but man has my brain been dry! I mean I came up with an unrelated fic that may or may not make an appearence soon... But even that's hard! But here is a new chapter! (granted a short one...) And a little filler, but I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope

Warning: Nothing really too bad... just description of destruction...

Chapter 12: The truth comes out

But, as he listened to the soldiers' cheers and victory shouts drowning the groans of the very much alive and very much in pain students above and in the alley, he wasn't sure when that chance would arrive, if it arrived at all.

The odd thing about being passed out drunk is that it isn't noise that wakes you, it's silence. Eerie, heavy silence that literally presses on you until the pressure is too much and your eyes open once more to the world.

This is how Grantaire felt when he creased the sandy crusts his slumber cursed him with. He nearly snapped his eyes shut once more when the cruel light of morning invaded his weary state. But once his eyes were finally opened, he was drowned in a sense of solitude, a terrible sense of solitude one only feels when one is hopelessly alone.

He blinked as he looked around him, he was still in the Corinthe, that much was certain, but no one else was. The tables that once bore Gav and Éponine were bare and the doors, wait, door, only one door still swung awkwardly on its hinge, hanging on by only a thread.

Gripping the wall for support, he raised himself to a stand and stumbled pathetically forward to begin his search for someone, anyone, to show him that they were alive, that they had somehow made it through the night. But, the closer he arrived to the scene outside, the more he took in the dark red stains on the cobble and the doors, and the most he sensed a aura of total and absolute destruction, his heart sank lower and lower into his chest.

So low that the weight knocked him to his knees when he reached the open air. Well, that, and the site that greeted him.

The barricade was in shambles, splintered wood was everywhere, glass from the surrounding buildings lay shattered on the ground, blood, so much blood, stained and pooled on the crevices of the street.

He forced his fist into his mouth to stifle the scream that wanted so desperately to escape his lips.

He could see Combeferre's glasses, smashed and defeated on the stones, near by Feuilly's cross, his one connection to his birth mother, lay discarded on the street. Grantaire shakily rose to his feet and moved, as if through water, to the two items on the street. He knelt once more to retrieve them, pocketing Combeferre's glasses and stringing Feuilly's cross over his head, tucking the small crucifix into the folds of his shirt.

Rising once more his eyes were drawn to the attic window. On first glance it appeared as any other window in the area, shattered, but then he looked closer, and almost collapsed once more.

It was far more than shattered, it was thourgholy destroyed, the frame splintered, as if something, someone, tumbled through. Then he noticed the scrap of red, almost invisible, but this was no ordinary red, this was a piece of fabric from Enjolras's jacket.

Sinking to the ground, barely containing his cries of anguish, he could only assume the worst.

The reporters didn't notice the broken student sobbing at the foot of the martyred sight, they didn't notice, or they ignored it, simply excited they'd have footage of someone upset, or at least brave enough to show they were upset, about this whole ordeal.

When Grantaire heard the reporter begin his segment, they didn't realize what they were messing with when they began to film at the sight of so much destruction.

"We're standing on the site of the failed student rebellion that took place between June fifth into the morning of June sixth. According to police, the students were protesting the university over claimed unfair financial issues and rose to violence when this barricade was built. Almost every student participating was taken down by the police and several are in critical condition. No word from police on how the students will be punished…"

"Punished?" Grantaire cried, finally reaching the reporter. The man jumped at the sudden noise, frankly expecting the place to be deserted.

"Wasn't this punishment enough?" Grantaire waved his arm frantically to the smoking remains of a once great statement.

"Should I keep rolling?" The cameraman asked nervously, shifiting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Before the reporter could answer, Grantaire swiped his mike.

"Damn right you should keep rolling, because the people should know the truth of what happened on this lonely barricade at dawn."

"Hey! I could call the cops on you! They're looking for remaining criminals." The reporter snapped, moving for his mike, but Grantaire moved it away from him.

"Criminal, is that what they're saying? Was it criminal for rising with my friends to fight against a cruel money placement? Was it criminal to raise a peaceful protest only to be shot down by actual weapons? Did the police tell anyone that? Huh? Here you are people. People Enjolras believed so wholeheartedly would come fight, here is the truth. No one at this barricade was armed."

"What?" The reporter scoffed. "The police report said you fired first."

Grantaire let out a hollow bark of laughter. "Did they also say the shot at a six-year-old child? Or opened fire at countless other defenseless students? Or kidnapped one for being 'behind enemy lines.'"

The reporter snapped his mouth shut. Grantaire ignored the shocked expression of the cameraman and looked directly into the lense.

"For those watching, this is the truth. Les Amis d'Abassie rose on June 5th to make a statement against the university's president's sudden decision to take money away from financial aid students who didn't meet expected criteria. We rose in peaceful protest, only wanting to make a statement they couldn't ignore. That night, two of our members were shot, one defending another, the other, a child trying to help his heroes. And I'm guessing this morning, the rest were mercilessly gunned down for simply using their freedom of speech. Enjolras believed in you out there, that you would rise to the call, but I stand here disgusted as you watched and ignored your friends, comrades, classmates, children, get slaughtered. If anyone out there cares you'd rise, you'd make the president come forward to confess his crimes, you'd make sure my friends didn't risk their lives in vain. If you're the people the mighty Apollo believes in, you'll rise to the call. But if you're the people I, the drunken cynic see, you're no better than the men who pulled the trigger against unarmed students."

When Grantaire finished, tears burned his vision and he looked away from the camera to keep whoever was watching from seeing his pain.

Seeing the intruder's vulnerability, the reporter took his mike back, ignoring the questions streaming through his ear piece.

"Get him back on!"

"Our viewership just spiked!"

"You'll never guess what's happening down at the university now!"

The reporter gulped, not imagining the immediate effect of this broken student's words.

"There you have it ladies and gentlemen, a first hand account of what truly happened at the barricades."

Grantaire didn't hear the growing roar of outraged people. Didn't hear them as they stormed streets not far from where he had collapsed onto his knees at the information of his friends. He didn't feel the time pass or hear the crowds that polluted the streets of the university.

No, Grantaire did not hear his greatest success to his Apollo to date, he only heard the sound of his own heart beat and sobs as they shook his aching body, which beat the bloodied pavement and prayed for salvation to take him as it had (so he thought) taken his friends.

Thoughts? I'm sorry on the length, but i felt you guys needed this chapter :) And i Promise, another one'll be out soon!

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until next time lovelies!