A Memorial: (June 8th, 1833)
Enjolras sits at a table, one hand intertwined with one of Grantaire's, staring moodily into a glass of wine. Several papers are spread about the table in front of them.
Marius sticks his head into the room, shudders, and says, "May I join you?"
Grantaire leans against Enjolras, once in a bit taking a sip from a wine glass, staring down at the papers. He looks up to Marius. "Of course, have a seat." he says quietly, in a tone in which one would speak in a church.
Enjolras glances up as Marius sits down at the table across from them. "Tell us what really happened. The newspapers think they know, but they weren't there."
Marius swallows hard. "It happened on the day of General Lamarque's funeral. The procession grew. I...I didn't know where my Cosette was, or if I would die."
"They died for the Republic, your dream," he continues, looking almost accusingly at Enjolras. "You weren't there, but they were swept up in everything. There was a barricade. There always is. I joined it."
Grantaire listens intently, hand gripping Enjolras' tightly.
Javert has left.
Enjolras returns Marius's glare with a level gaze and offers him a cup of wine.
Marius takes the glass and drains it, not even bothering to notice it. "They all died. Bahorel, Prouvaire, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet, and Feuilly. They were shot and stabbed because they believed in you."
Grantaire squeezes Enjolras' hand tighter at each name which brings up the memories, and he shuts his eyes.
Marius bangs the glass down on the table, nearly hard enough to break it. "I lived. Cosette's...guardian came to the barricade. He carried me away. And I could not even save the smallest boy who died."
Enjolras holds Grantaire's hand tight, watching Marius, unwilling to shut his eyes, not yet.
Grantaire questions, eyes shut, at this: "Gavroche?"
Marius answers, "Yes. I owed his father more than I could ever repay, and yet I let that poor boy die, and his sister perished in my arms."
Enjolras asks, "Who allowed a woman to enter the barricade?"
Grantaire brings his hand up to Enjolras' shoulder to try and calm him.
Marius shakes his head. "She disguised herself.
"I led no one to glory. I only survived because of a man who was willing to carry me through sewers, a man who gave me his angel."
"She was the only girl I saw there."
Enjolras says, "You should have sent her away. You should have tried harder."
Marius becomes more exasperated. "You weren't there. You don't understand." His words bring the first tear to Enjolras' eye. "I didn't even see her until she was shot. Trying to save me."
Grantaire squeezes the shoulder. "There's no one to blame, Enjolras."
Enjolras says, "I wasn't there. No, I wasn't there."
Grantaire says, "And there's no one to blame for that, either."
Grantaire speaks pointedly at both of them saying this.
Marius subsides, thinking about Eponine, especially. "I was there. I should have taken responsibility. But there was no way. Even you could not have helped them. I know," he reassures Enjolras.
Marius pours himself more wine.
Enjolras clenches his fingers on the edge of the table until his knuckles turn white, then tries to make himself relax. "And we are alive. All three of us. We will avenge them."
Grantaire nods, "We will... in time."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
Enjolras says, "The ideals of the Republic are not dead," and his voice starts to have some of the ringing echoes it had when this room was full of les Amis de ABC. "We can start again. If you do not wish to join us, Pontmercy, you are married. You are not obligated.""
Grantaire smiles at Enjolras, who looks just like a statue again. He rests his hand on Enjolras' thigh and smiles. "Yes, there will be more who want freedom."
Marius nods. "You were always mad. I never knew how much. If you had seen them all die, you would not think that your dreams were so real. I should leave you to your illusions, then. I hope you realize how wrong you are before you die, too."
Enjolras says, "I see."
Enjolras says, "If you feel that way, then I hope you enjoy your life as a petty bourgeois.""
Grantaire looks to Marius sadly, then to Enjolras, trying to calm him, "It's all right... there are others."
Enjolras says, "Thank you for explaining, Pontmercy. Enjoy your wife and your quiet little life."
Enjolras touches Grantaire's shoulder. "There are always people who are too frightened of the past to look farther."
Marius glares at them. "You self-absorbed bastard, you'll just get more people killed. I'll have no part of it." He stands up and strides out, purposely slamming the door behind him.
Grantaire nods, looking to the ground for a bit, "We can remember, today, those of the rare breed who were not afraid." He looks after Marius, hurt for Enjolras if not for himself.
Enjolras says, "If only one of them...but they would not have wanted to live, just as I would rather have died with them."
Enjolras sighs.
Enjolras asks for the hundreth time, "Are you glad you survived?"
Grantaire leans softly against Enjolras. "I know you would have... I'm glad I have this life with you, yes, and I'm glad to be helping you try to accomplish the revolution again. I do miss our friends, however."
Enjolras says, "Yes."
Enjolras smiles wryly, even with the anger gathering in his hands and the tears in the corners of his eyes. "It's hard to be a god with only one believer."
Grantaire smiles softly back to him, reaching over the table to light expertly a candle with the number 1832 finely painted on it, "Your believer loves you."
Enjolras says, "I love you, too, you madman."
Grantaire leans over to kiss Enjolras by candlelight.
Enjolras accepts the kiss gratefully, embracing Grantaire in the stillness of the room that once rang with the conversations of les Amis.

And a Confession: (Indeterminate time after June 1833)
Grantaire asks in a very caressing voice, "Was there something you wanted to tell me, Marcelin?"
Enjolras frowns, "Um... no." he says, not very convincingly.
Grantaire says, "But you said you did, once we got back from our walk. And here we are, in our lovely apartment."
Enjolras looks to R. "What would you say if I told you I wasn't always faithful to you?" he blurts out.
Grantaire's face pales, then he tries to rally. "Well. Do you love the person?"
Enjolras says, "Well... I thought maybe I did. I don't know."
Grantaire closes his eyes. "When was it?"
Enjolras says, "Before... before the first 8th of June."
Grantaire says, "That policeman?"
Grantaire sounds incredulous, but knows he's right.
Enjolras nods silently, shortly, "I'm sorry." he sounds Very Very sorry.
Grantaire says, "What could have possessed you?"
Grantaire says, "I was always there for you, wasn't I?"
Enjolras says, "Yes... you were. Oh, would that you had been there the night he stopped me in the Musain."
Enjolras sounds on the verge of tears.
Grantaire says, "I don't know what to say. Have you seen him since?"
Enjolras shakes his head no.
Grantaire reaches out one hand to touch Enjolras's face. "Then why?"
Grantaire says, "He was twice your age, for God's sake."
Enjolras shrinks from the touch at first, then relaxes, "I don't know. I just don't know."
Grantaire shakes his head. "I don't know whether to slap you or cry."
Enjolras says, "The first... I deserve it. You were always so good to me, and I betrayed you like that."
Grantaire says, "Why then? I know how you were, then. But...but wasn't I enough?"
Enjolras says, "The first... I deserve it. You were always so good to me, and I betrayed you like that."
Enjolras says, "You were better than enough, I was just too dense to realize it."
Grantaire smiles. Sorta. "You always were dense."
Grantaire raises one eyebrow. "Just tell me I'm better than him?"
Enjolras reaches ovr a hand to raise R's other eyebrow. "You are."
Grantaire grins, grabs your hand, and kisses your palm. "I am glad I decided a long time ago that I would never understand you. That was a confusing time, and I know...what you were going through. I forgive you."
Enjolras smiles faintly. "I am forgiven? I was afraid to tell you, I thought you'd never want to talk to me again."
Grantaire says, "Oh, dearest. You were the first one I ever loved, but, well."
Enjolras smiles again, "I love you." And he leans forward to prove that.
Grantaire kisses Enjolras, trying to remember that even marble can be flawed.