~I Believe In You~

Hardly seconds had passed, before Enjolras collapsed down to sit on the floor beside Grantaire. Gently, slowly, careful not to hurt him too much more, Enjolras took Grantaire into his arms and held him, holding him tightly and closely, cradling his head against his chest so that Grantaire could hear his heart beating.

As Enjolras moved Grantaire's body to take him into his arms, Grantaire struggled not to moan and wince in pain, but a moment later, when he rest lying safe and warm in Enjolras's arms, his face, his body, and his soul relaxed. He let out a soft sigh and he laid back, finally at peace, finally happy to die in his leader's arms.

Grantaire's blood was hot as it began to soak Enjolras, soaking his clothes, sticking to his flesh, painting his body red, but Grantaire's body felt so cold. As Enjolras held him, he could feel him trembling. Enjolras pulled his body closer to Grantaire's trying to keep him warm. "I am with you now, Grantaire," Enjolras whispered, trying desperately to comfort this dying man, to repay him in whatever small way that he could, to undo a fraction of the cruelty that he had shown Grantaire in the past. "I will stay with you. You do not have to be afraid anymore. No one will hurt you now. It will be over soon, and you will be with the boys again. They will be proud of you." He swallowed down his fear and forced himself to say, "And so am I."

When he spoke these words, Grantaire opened his eyes and looked up at Enjolras. His face was so sweet, so innocent, so happy, like that of a young child, and a warm light lit up his face, so that for a moment it seemed that he was not dying but coming back to life. One could see the happiness in Grantaire's mind, his heart, and his soul. It was as if someone had just lit the flame within his soul. These were worlds that Grantaire had longed to hear for his entire life, but he knew that he would never hear. Yet now, as he lay dying in Enjolras's arms, he finally got to hear them. Nothing else that could have been said could have made him happier. Then, he smiled gently. "You are proud of me, Enjolras?" he whispered, his voice growing softer yet also sweeter ever moment, as if his soul was already departing into the land where all things are perfect

Enjolras, for the first time in his life, smiled at Grantaire. This smile was weak and sad, but it made Grantaire's heart flood with happiness and joy. "Yes, Grantaire," he said softly. "You were very brave. Very strong. I was wrong about you, Grantaire. You were right." His voice dropped to a whisper, and he found himself no longer able to look into Grantaire's eyes as he said, "Grantaire, I am sorry… about all of the things that I have said about you. They were not true. I was wrong. I am so sorry. You were a good man, a strong man. You... you saved my life... I owe you everything that I have... Can you ever forgive me?"

"You don't owe me anything, Enjolras," Grantaire said softly. "Of course, I forgive you. This is more than anyone…" He coughed, this time spraying Enjolras's coat and chest with blood. "…anyone else could have given me." He coughed again. "More than I could have asked for."

Enjolras holding him in his arms, keeping him safe, and warm, and close as he died was more than Grantaire would have hoped for. This was all he needed. This was all that he wanted. And now, Enjolras had called him a friend and had told him that he was proud of him. These were words that Grantaire had dreamed of hearing for all of his life but knew that he would never hear. Yet, now, just before he died, he had heard Enjolras say them.

Grantaire smiled and tried to say something. But then suddenly, greater agony shot through his body. He let out a soft cry, his body contracted, he bent over clutching at his stomach with his hands and arms, his eyes pinched shut, he gritted his teeth, and his face contorted in pain.

Enjolras looked helplessly down at Grantaire and watched him wither in pain, watched him die in his arms. He did not know what to do. He knew that he could not save this man. He could not give him anything to make the pain go away. But he would do anything in his power to comfort him. Enjolras held him tightly and closely, speaking gentle words. "It is alright, Grantaire. I am here with you. All of this will be over soon."

"Enjolras?" Grantaire struggled to choke out. His voice was soft, and scared, and sweet like that of a child.

"Yes, Grantaire," Enjolras answered softly.

"Will you stay with me? Until..." His body convulsed again, he clutched at his bleeding belly as more blood came up through his throat, and tears began to spill out of his eyes and roll slowly down his cheeks. "...until I'm dead?"

"Yes, Grantaire," Enjolras answered in a soft, gentle voice, like that of a mother speaking to her child. "I am going to stay with you. I will not leave you. You do not need to be afraid anymore." Enjolras slowly raised a hand to Grantaire's lips and gently used his figures to wipe the blood off of his mouth.

Grantaire struggled against the pain for a moment longer, his body tense and his face in a grimace of agony. Then, a moment later, he relaxed, lied back in Enjolras's arms, listened to his heartbeat, and closed his eyes. At this moment, he looked so peaceful that one would have thought that he had simply lied down for the night to go to sleep… had it not been for all of the blood. Even as his face grew darker and the light faded away from his eyes, now a new light seemed to fall upon him. A light from Heaven as Grantaire's soul took wings to depart.

Enjolras knew that Grantaire was about to die. Enjolras knew that now, he would speak his final words to Grantaire, the last words that this man would ever hear. But first he had to ask the question that would never stop tormenting him until he had an answer. "Grantaire?"

Grantaire opened his eyes and looked up at his leader. "Enjolras..." he whispered. Now, his voice was so soft, so sweet, so precious that it seemed that his soul had already passed into the gates of Paradise, and the voice that Enjolras heard speaking was the voice of an angel.

"Grantaire, you have always been so good to me. You were always ready to die for me." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You gave you life to save me. But... but I have always been so cruel and terrible to you. Yet, you still sacrificed yourself for me... Why?"

A gentle smile appeared on Grantaire's lips, his face became very unlike a mortal man but like a being of Heaven, and he looked up upon the face of Enjolras, happy to finally be safe in his arms. Then he opened his lips and said, "Because I believe in you."

I believe in you. Enjolras had heard these words before. Before the battle, when Grantaire was drinking and Enjolras was watching him scornfully, Enjolras had snapped, "Grantaire, you do not believe in anything!" but Grantaire had said, "I believe in you." Enjolras had rolled his eyes and turned his back on Grantaire, hearing these words with his mind but not with his heart. But now, these words first pierced Enjolras's heart like a knife and then melted it like the warmth of the sunlight of spring falling upon the frozen earth to melt away the frost of winter. Now, Enjolras knew that Grantaire's words were true. Grantaire had proven this at the price of his life.

"I never believed in anything, Enjolras," Grantaire struggled to tell him. His voice was so soft that Enjolras had to strain his ears to hear him. "I was so worthless, and miserable, and hopeless… But you gave me something to believe in, Enjolras. You gave me hope. And courage. And… and because of you, I was able to believing in other things, as well… Like friendship. And freedom. And sacrifice…" Enjolras could see Grantaire struggling to find a way to explain this better to him, to make Enjolras understand. "And in God," Grantaire finally said. "I heard you talk about God, and… and I believed. I believed in you. …But I believed in Him, too… I believed," he said as if trying to convince Enjolras that this was true. "I really did believe. I still believe…" He frowned for a moment, his eyes gazing past Enjolras and looking up to the Heavens above him. His face softened and he gazed up into the roof of this old café as if he could see the gates of Paradise opening beyond it. "And now…" he whispered, but he did not seem to be speaking to Enjolras any longer. It was as if he was speaking to himself or to another being of which only the eyes of this dying man could see. "…And now, I am not afraid to die…"

He suddenly, as if being awakened from a vision, looked back at Enjolras and whispered, "Don't you understand? I want you to understand…"

"I understand, Grantaire," Enjolras answered, and he was surprised to hear how soft, how weak, and how sad his own voice sounded. These things that he was witnessing before him, the change in this man, the light that fell upon his face as he died in Enjolras's arms, was incredible. Like witnessing a miracle from Heaven. At the same time, it was even more awesome and more terrible, because this man was dying for Enjolras.

"Do you believe me?" Grantaire asked in a desperate whisper. Desperate for this man who he believed in so strongly, to believe in him, as well.

"Yes, I believe you, Grantaire," Enjolras answered gently. He meant it. "I believe every word. I believe in you."

At these words, great comfort and great joy came to Grantaire. A bright light lit up his cold face, once more, and he let out a soft sigh of relief. "Thank you. I promise you, every word is true."

Enjolras stared down at Grantaire, wanting to tell him so much, that he was sorry, that he was wrong, that Grantaire was a good man, that he was as brave, as strong, and as good as all of the other boys, including Enjolras. Or that he was better. But he was unable to find words, and he was only able to gaze silently down at Grantaire, in awe, in gratitude, in shame, in regret, and in a longing to be able to make it up to him. He said no words, but just by gazing into each others' eyes, he thought that Grantaire understood.

A warm, gentle, and happy smile spread across Grantaire's lips, and he looked up at the man who he admired, respected, and loved so much. He would have followed Enjolras into anything. But now, it seemed, he would be happy to die in this man's arms, happy to give his life for Enjolras. "Goodbye, Enjolras," he said softly, his voice like that of an angel. "I still believe in you."

Then he closed his eyes, and with a smile still upon his lips, he let out on last breath. His chest sank and did not rise again, his head fell limply to lean against Enjolras's breast, the dark shadow that had been hanging above him fell upon him and enveloped him, his flesh became cold and dark like stone, darkness came over his now lifeless body. But his soul departed and soared out from the darkness and flew into the light. Into a light brighter than the sun, purer as the sky, deeper than the ocean, vaster than the plains, mightier than the mountains, and more beautiful than all of the beauty of this earth. The light of the One who created all of these things.

A shadow of a smile remained upon Grantaire's cold, breathless lips. He was dead.