Let Him Live

Grantaire could not sleep.

This was not an unusual occurrence, but usually there was a definite reason he couldn't sleep. Someone was yelling, a babe was crying, possibly he wasn't tired. But tonight, it was definitely from fear. An emotion he denied having. Usually.

But tonight was nowhere near usual. Tonight he was on the barricade, lying half-sheltered under a table while the rest of the fighters laid around him, sleeping.

A soft murmur alerted him to another wakened person, one that sounded vaguely like the man who'd come to the barricade, the one who'd saved Enjolras. Slowly, Grantaire slit his eyes open to find the old man kneeling over a sleeping Pontmercy. Praying. Not a bad idea, though Grantaire hadn't prayed since the age of twelve. He believe in no God, except possibly the one he found on Earth.

But tonight isn't a time for old routines, Elliot. Which was a fact. He wouldn't often call himself by his first name. Even to himself, he was Grantaire, or more likely R; sometimes, in the darkest of moods, winecask- not that he'd admit it, mind you.

So he prayed, but not for himself.

God, I don't know if you exist, he thought, as it seemed the best way to pray. An odd way to begin, but oh well. But I believe that he does, and I'm not here for myself. Kill me, if need be. But let him live.

Please, let him live. He could be more than just the leader of a failed revolution; he could be the one to lead the remaining of us, and others, to true freedom. It's important that he lived. Even if we succeed, what will be without Enjolras? He's our leader. Combeferre is more philosophical and logical, Jolllly kinder, Pontmercy idealistic, even I myself am more likely to reconsider plans then him. But no one else could rally the people, raise their souls into a frenzy like Enjolras.

I will die to let him live.

Grantaire turned as naturally as he could fake it, looked with now half-opened eyes at where Enjolras slept.

I will save you if I can, Enjolras. I will die for you if I must; I will die with you if I cannot save you.

It wasn't a plea anymore. It was a promise.