A Friend, a Father.

Author's Note: This story is from Grantaire's point of view. It is both book and musical based. Most of the thoughts are based on the book, but the placement of the characters is based on the musical. This story occurs while Eponine is dying in Marius' arms, and the people on the barricade (hence the musical based-iness) are watching her die.

You may notice that, in this scene, Grantaire is usually standing over Gavroche, comforting him. That is the basis for this story. Please read and review.

A Friend, a Father.

My god, what is happening? Am I too drunk to understand, or is everyone feeling the same way that I am. I've seen that girl gallivanting with Marius every now and then…but how do they know each other? I've also seen her talking to Gavroche. Actually, I've listened quite closely to their many conversations. They are an interesting pair, those two.

Damn, this chair is getting far too hard for my liking. Not to mention that it's absolutely freezing everywhere that we turn. The girl in Marius' arms is trying to reason what is happening with herself, I can tell. I've tried to do that many times, myself. Now she's- what? Get out of the way, idiots! I'm trying to see what's going on!

I finally push my way to the front of the pack. Well, almost. Gavroche is standing in front of me, but I don't think he'll be much of a problem at his height. I can't believe he's being so quiet. You'd think he's run over to that girl and hug her goodbye, but no. He's simply standing in front of me, trying to hold in his young tears. He should cry - he's earned that right. Yet, he doesn't. He keeps his dignity. What a great kid.

What was their last conversation? Oh, yeah, they were talking about their pa. I know their father, spent a few too many years in his little group of goons, in fact. I never knew his kids though, I was too busy drinking to pay any attention to them. All I knew what that I wanted money…I wanted to drink. He was the one who got me drinking in the first place, actually. He gave me my first pint of the Green Fairy, and I could never stop after that sip.

I do remember thinking of how horrible a guy he was, though. Only thought about himself, and his own gain. What a jerk. It wasn't until he lost his pointless inn that he got some common sense. Even then he still made a mess of his life. Made a mess of mine too. He got me as a youngun, so I never got any proper education. Even now I'm just trying to catch up with everyone in the classes I'm failing miserably in.

Finally, I see little Gavroche start to shake. It's almost over for his big sister, and he knows it. Real smart kid he is, real smart. He coulda had a future too, if it weren't for his dad. Oh god, now he's tearing up. He's trying not to, sure, but he still is. I don't blame him. He's trying to hold it in, and now he's shaking rather harshly. He doesn't want to show his sadness. Always thought he was a man, that boy, and he's earned that too.

I ought to help him. I put my hands on his dry shoulders and squeeze hard, so to keep him still. He looks up at me. I can't describe the look on his face. I don't even understand it. Was he thanking me, or just asking for help. Asking me to make the pain stop. Sure, I can keep his shoulders still, but can I really make pain go away?

Of course not. If I could, do you think I'd be here, standing with a bunch of suicidal students, just waiting for it to be my turn to go to that great big white light in the sky.

No. I'd be at home, with a big family. I'd have kids, and they'd grow up in the best clothes. The girls would have two big, healthy braids on their head that they could wear to school, and get some learning in. The boys would wear a tie every day, trying to look as respectable as possible. It'd be a good life, that would.

But no, instead I'm here, without any purpose but to drink my ale and wait for my time to come. Well, my time to go, really.

But now, Gavroche, as his sister is delivering her dying words, pushes his hand into mine. I take it gladly. Such a small hand he has. Just the right size for a young child. But the dirt on it is fit for a man of forty years or so. He's a baby who became a man in a short time. Or, perhaps he is just a child who thinks he's a man. Like I did when I drank that tiny bit of alcohol. It's just that easy.

Not that he ever knew any good men. His father was no man, no human even. He was just a creature, sent to help the devil do his harsh and deadly deeds. He should have a father.

His sister finally utters her final sentence. Marius kisses her on the forehead as a token of respect to her. Gavroche's grip tightens. And now, suddenly I have a purpose. He needs me. He needs someone to lead him in the right direction, to make sure he doesn't go the wrong way. I can do that. Who else would know better than me? I'll be his friend, a peer, and I set him straight.

But, as he turns and clings to my waist, tears falling from his eyes, I realize that I need to be more than just another friend. I will be his father. The one he never had.