A different road / with jcombeferre / Closed
[Basically this starts around chapter 'Interlude' in the Brick, right after Gavroche's death.]
"Grantaire, you are incapable of believing or thinking or willing or living or dying." Those were the last words spoken to him by Enjolras and the last words he had expected to ever hear as he succumbed to wine and despair, fully intending to let his own life drain from him so he did not have to see his friends defeated and destroyed. It is not the noise that awakens the drunken man, but silence. Grantaire rose from his table and looked over the empty room. Then, hearing the murmur of voices below, he made his way down. There were men walking an talking, some manned the barricade and others tended to the wounded. Their numbers were few.
"Ah, Grantaire, my good man, I fear your timing is most inopportune," came the friendly voice of Bossuet. "I'm afraid we're all about to get slaughtered," the statement was delivered with the cheer of a man long since resigned to his fate. "The people?" Grantaire asked, already suspecting the answer.
"You're looking at them. 26 able-bodied men, well, 27, you included and a few wounded."
"Any dead?"
At that Bossuet's good spirits faded and he looked as any tired and hungry soldier at the end of a loosing battle. "Mabeuf, Bahorel, Prouvaire, Gavroche, and Marius' friend, I believe her name was Eponine."
"Gavroche?! Why was he even allowed here?"
Bossuet just shook his head, sadly, before he was called away by Joly.
Grantaire walked about like a man in a daze, sorrow weighting heavy on his heart. His wanderings brought him to where Combeferre was tending to the wounded men, his white apron smeared in crimson.
"So this is to be the end of us then?" he asked.