Alternate Ending to Les Mis

Without Me, His World Will Go On Turning

"Grantaire, it's good you're awake, you had us worried for a minute here." Enjolras stated, his tone almost painfully distant and formal.

"Did you miss me, Apollo?" R asked teasingly, his voice quavering an almost imperceptible amount.

"Of course. I hate to see any of my comrades in pain, and we need your input to plan the new government. Well, I'd better be off to do just that. Good day, Grantaire, and I wish you a full and speedy recovery." With that, he promptly turned and left.

R stared at the door longingly for a moment, and then let out an anguished wail, dissolving into tears. Joly rushed into the room as the speed of sound.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Have your stiches come loose? Are you going to be sick? Please don't be sick. Please oh please oh please don't be sick. Oh I'd better fetch a bucket. Oh dear Lord this is a nightmare!" Joly spouted as he ran around the tiny hospital room, wringing his hands and tutting.

"Tis only my soul that hurts." R said drearily, raising his head from his tear-soaked pillow, his eyes wet and his once luscious ebony curls in disarray.

"Oh dear, is that what I sound like?" Jean Prouvaire asked quietly as he stepped into the room. The rest of Les Amis have arrived and the small infirmary is now full to the brim.

"What are you crying about?" Bahorel asked gruffly. He really did care about the man, he just didn't particularly like feelings.

The patient sighed. "Enjolras doesn't care." The rest of the boys nodded sympathetically. The cynic's affinity for their leader was no secret, though he tried to hide it.

"You obviously didn't see him crying then." Courfeyrac,said smiling warmly.

"He- he cried... for me?" Grantaire stuttered.

"He cried like a newborn babe!" Feuilly added, catching on. A little exaggeration couldn't hurt, right?

By the time the revolutionaries left, Grantaire was grinning from ear to ear.