8/5/13

Thanks to my reviewers and followers love you guys. Drawing near the end now and believe me it gets worse for these two yet!

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – Hope it lived up to expectation! Poor R …

Stagepageandscreen – This chapter is different! The end is the same but the beginning is different

GaleEnjolrasKili – Glad you enjoyed and especially glad you followed now *thumbs up*

Chapter 11

All was quiet. Grantaire sat alone in his cell with nothing but his own thoughts for company. A rhythmic tapping tried to distract his thoughts from varying into areas that he didn't want to think about. Do the passages still run? It would be so easy to get out of here. The tapping returned to the forefront of his mind. He could not escape; he had to die. But sitting there was so hard … he could escape then break back in again. Tap, tap taptap. Tap, tap, taptap. His mind ventured back to the numerous times he had broken in and out of La Force. They were good times; he could remember the first time he had broken Enjolras out. Usually the revolutionary leader made sure not to get caught; well, Combeferre made sure he did not get caught but this time he found himself in the locked cell.

Grantaire was in the air passages. Every prison had them to keep airflow into the rooms, through slightly weak panels in the roof. Not many people knew about those passages therefore they were perfect for break ins and break outs. And that was why he was there then, to break out the mighty Apollo. Grantaire had already worked a panel out of the roof and it was laid loosely in place. He had all his equipment and it was now a waiting game. Suddenly a thump echoed in the room below. Grantaire opened a peep hole and watched the scene below. "The boss wants you to talk, and we'll make you talk," the head guard chuckled kicking Enjolras in the stomach, splintering at least one rib. Enjolras screwed his eyes shut through the roaring pain in his torso.

"Men, get here now!" Grantaire roared to get the guards to reluctantly leave Enjolras bound in his cell. "Pst, Enjolras," Grantaire hissed from above him. "Hey, wake up Apollo," the voice instructed more clearly nowas Enjolras was obviously not listening to him. Enjolras creaked his eyes open and Grantaire was leaning through a hole in the ceiling.

"R? What?" Enjolras asked confused while trying to sit up. He fell carelessly back down onto the floor and Grantaire instantly snapped back into action. Grantaire thumped onto the floor next to him, pulling a rope down next to him. "Careful Apollo, it will be harder to get you out if you are unconscious," he chuckled as he supported Enjolras onto his feet. The rope hung from the hole in the ceiling and Grantaire helped the weak Enjolras to it and boosted him up so there wasn't much left to climb. Voices shouted outside the cell and Grantaire hurriedly threw Enjolras into the passage above. He hurriedly pulled on a black and gold mask that covered the top half of his face and a thin scarf was draped casually round his neck hiding his tattoo. Everything that could make him identifyable was hidden and he was in character simultaneously. Grantaire winked to Enjolras for effect and threw the rope up before shutting the hatch. "I did not shout you, you idiots he could be gone by now!" the chief screamed as the door flew open. "You again," he hissed and Grantaire laughed.

"Missed me?" he chuckled with a wink.

"Boss, who's this," one of the lower ranking guards asked cautiously, eying up Grantaire with his gun raised.

"The Libérateur," the chief hissed and Grantaire grinned. He loved the name they had given him. He felt like a modern day Scarlet Pimpernel

"They've given me a name now, I am honoured. Shame you'll never catch me though," he sighed.

"I have you now; two years, fifty seven breakouts of you and other revolutionaries … and I have you now!" he snarled.

"But do you really have me, my friend should already have crawled out of here and be ready to meet me at our hideout," Grantaire replied, praying that Enjolras heard him and knew to get moving. The chief drew his gun as Grntaire began to move into position. Earlier he has loosened the bars on the window so they would just come away at a touch. He tried moving again and the gun was cocked. He darted forwards and the gun popped. A bullet sunk into the side of his stomach and the pain bullet his vision. It hurt so much but Enjolras' safety was at risk. "You'll never catch either of us, we'll just keep crawling away," Grantaire laughed, getting ready to move.

Grantaire suddenly sprung to action running away from the captain as he reloaded and jumping feet first out of the window. "Au reviour!" he screamed with a cheer. The bars came away like expected and he was flying through the air towards the cobbled street. It was higher than he expected; if he landed even an inch wrong then that was a nasty injury. Thankfully the landing was pulled off and he skidded along the ground laughing before setting off running, dragging Enjolras along behind him. "What in god's name just happened?" Enjolras shouted and Grantaire skidded to a halt. "I just broke you out of la Force," he shrugged. Grantaire was using his free hand to hold the side of his stomach, blood was pouring out and the pain returned with a vengance.

"They shot you," Enjolras stated bluntly, there was no need for fuss. He had had worse in his time.

"Just a scratch, you go home and get cleaned up," Grantaire shrugged and disappeared into the alleys.

The light pierced the crushing darkness that surrounded him breaking him out of the amusing day dream that had occupied his mind. The brightness bombarded every one of his senses and crushed his spirit further. This was it. This was the end. Grantaire had thought that at least one of them would try to break him out or even send a message. Nothing ever came. He guessed his message had worked too well then … or they just did not care about the drunkard's fate. The light; light was supposed to be a beacon of hope. This light condemned him to a miserable fate. He would have preferred to rot away in that darkness; the damp darkness he had grown to take comfort in, knowing the light would take everything away from him.

He still did not doubt what he did. It had to be done and he was proud to have eventually done something with his life. He had saved his Apollo; now that was cause worth dying for. Rough hands jerked him to his feet and the marble façade returned. He now knew why Enjolras kept the façade up at all times. It was a comfort and protection against a world that hated people like him. This was one of his final moments. He would stand tall and proud like he had never done in his life. He was pulled to his feet and he stood tall and proud with his hands tied behind his back and a guard on each arm. "You, Ricard Julien Enjolras, are charged with disturbing the peace, conspiracy to commit treason and repetitive break outs from la Force. These are crimes punishable by death by firing squad," the National Guard read out. "You will be executed at oh nine hundred hours," the guardsman read out.

"Ten minutes," one of the other guards whispered in his ear intending to try and make him crack. Ricard Enjolras would never crack … so he wouldn't. He remained stood tall, maintaining the cover, while the man crumbled inside. "Break outs?" Grantaire asked.

"I knew that I recognised you from somewhere," the chief laughed. "I have finally caught you Libérateur," he laughed and Grantaire smiled slightly.

"So you do recognise me without the mask," he laughed and was slapped across the face.

"The death of their leader and their masked vigilante … crush the revolution forever," he chuckled. "I am so glad I will never see you again," the man laughed. Grantaire did not want to die. Did anyone ever feel good about themselves when walking to their death? He could not see how Enjolras was willing to die for an ungrateful country that was now trying to end his beautiful existence. But yet, Grantaire willing to die for a man that hated him … maybe they weren't so different in that aspect.

The walk was long and slow; as if it was designed to make you tense and panic. He would not panic. He was Ricard Enjolras; his Apollo wouldn't so he wouldn't. Firing squad wasn't the worst way to go. He would rather not die at all but at least it would be honourable and virtually painless. A good way for his Apollo to pretend to die; that was a weird thought. He was more concerned about Enjolras' image of his fake death, than he was of the standard of his real death. That confirmed it … Grantaire's life was seriously messed up. The dark door loomed ahead. It towered over him; threatening, menacing. It swung open and again the poisonous light blinded him. He had lived in the dark all his life and now the light was to end it all for him. Grantaire was pushed forwards out into the courtyard they had been threatening him with for days. Eight guards lined the wall with their pristine rifles leaning against their legs. Grantaire walked proudly to stand in front of the line. His head held high as the guards let go off his and the firing squad picked up their rifles. He breathed deeply but could not bear to shut his eyes or look away from the eight identical guns. "Any final requests?" the chief asked with a smile.

"Send my body to the Café Musain, my friends will find it there," he requested and the chief nodded.

"Would you like a blindfold?" he asked but Grantaire shook his head.

"I will die facing my foes," he shouted and the men raised their rifles.

"Take aim!" he shouted and everything fell. Forgive me Apollo, Grantaire thought as the world exploded and everything fell black.