'Any room at the inn?' Grantaire leaned heavily on the bar, much to the distaste of the barmaid. His friends thought he was improving, but today was one of those days everyone wondered where all their hard work had gone.

'Excuse me?' the barmaid said wearily. She had rather hoped she had served her last customer of the evening, preferring to go home and go to bed, just to get up tomorrow and come straight back to the domestic hell she called her place of work.

The ABC Café used to be a very successful restaurant. The whole social spectrum of Paris would meet there for various reasons, whether it was just for a nice family dinner, or to close a business deal. Either way, the ABC Café was the talk of the city. But that all changed several years back, when the Café became the centre of the most widespread bar fight anyone this side of the border could recall.

It progressed from a family disagreement. Two sons of an aristocratic Parisian family both claimed to be in love with the very beautiful daughter of a middle class industrialist, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out the problem. The Café, filled to bursting as it was most nights, was far too small a venue for these two young men, if their behaviour can condone them to be called that.

After ruining the Café resident's evening, wrecking havoc and enveloping tipsy and eager young men into joining their squabble, the fight spilled out onto the streets. Fortunately, the police were on hand to re-establish control and no one walked away with serious injuries, but the reputation of the Café was ruined. No one respectable would be caught dead passing that threshold, and as a last resort it was forced to attract much less desirable customers.

This is what the barmaid was thinking as she looked at the lone wanderer with curly black hair who'd just ruined her chances of an early night. Just then a young boy of about nine or ten, with dirty blonde hair rushed into the Café.

'He's in here!' he yelled to someone outside. A few moments later the boy was joined by two young men, one with black hair, who to the barmaid looked like a taller, leaner version of the drunkard. The looks of the second young man were exquisite, he had curly blonde hair and translucent blue eyes, and just one look satisfied the barmaid that taking the extra shift had been worth it.

The tall one strode over and took the arm of the drunkard, 'Where the hell have you been?' he hissed, quite aggressively the barmaid noticed.

The drunkard shrugged and became transfixed with something on his friend's jacket.

'I'm so sorry about this,' the beautiful man said to the barmaid. 'We thought we had him under control.'

'I did!' insisted the boy, 'but he just….'

'It's of no consequence Gavroche,' he replied with a wave of his hand, the barmaid noticed he looked rather tired. 'We've found him now, and we better be on our way, we've tainted this place long enough.'

'Oh, I hardly think that's true,' the barmaid batted her eyes flirtatiously. The man's attitude suddenly changed.

'Right, well…' he coughed, 'we better, uh…better um..we have to…'

'Go,' his sober friend assisted him. 'I apologise again for my friend's behaviour.'

'Oh he wasn't so bad,' she lied, 'Why was he asking about room at the inn?'

'He asked what?' Gavroche interjected.

'My guess it was his way of asking if you had a place for us to stay for the night. Which shows how drunk he really is, since this is clearly a café,' the curly-blonde haired one replied, with a stern look at his friend.

'Come on lads,' the tall man announced, 'Let's be off. We don't want to drive any customers away.'

An awkward silence followed as they all looked around. There were only three people there. Just three regulars, the only people you would expect to find in here. Two were an old couple, who came into the café for the peace and quiet, they were a generation out from the hustle and bustle of the streets of Paris. The third was a young man about the same age as the three who had just walked in. A reasonable looking fellow, used the café as a place of study, very bright, the barmaid had noticed, always buried in his books, he had never given her a second glance, or spoken aside from his order. And when she knew his usual, there was no need for speech at all. Yes, the ABC Café was a very quiet residence.

'Hold on right there, boys,' the barmaid said to them. 'I actually might be able to help you. Take a seat and I'll be back in two shakes of a lambs tail.'

'Is that fast?' Gavroche asked the young man endorsed in his studies. He jumped from his reading and looked at the street urchin.

'Excuse me?'

'Two shakes of a lambs tail, is that fast?' Gavroche repeated, as if it were the most obvious question in France.

'Well you see…that's just an expression…I'm not quite sure..'

'Gavroche, stop bothering the man, let him get on with his work,' his guardian called over to him.

'I just wanted to know,' Gavroche shrugged. 'He must be clever, look at all them words!' he exclaimed, pointing at the medical journal spread out in front of him.

'Oh, I don't know about that,' the man piped up, he was warming to the boy. 'Reading doesn't necessarily encompass learning.'

One look at the child's face told Joly his language was far too fanciful.

'Just because I'm reading it, doesn't mean I understand it.'

'I don't think anyone ever understands anything,' Gavroche shrugged. Joly took a moment to look at the young boy, he was remarkably perceptive for his age, but then again, children always were.

The man in the red jacket came to the boy's side. 'Why don't you go and talk to Courfeyrac for a bit?'

'Okay,' Gavroche grinned, and he ran to the men at the other side of the café.

'I seem to be full of apologies tonight, accept this one if you please, Gavroche has a habit of talking just that little too much. Some call it charming, some call it annoying.'

'Well I think he has a certain charm to him,' Gavroche's new friend replied.

'No one can deny that,' Enjolras smiled, looking over at the boy. 'So are you at university?'

'Just started, in my first year.'

'What subject?'

'Medicine.'

'A future doctor?'

'That's the plan!'

'Well, good luck to you,' said Enjolras with complete sincerity. He thought that would be a pleasant way to end their acquaintance, and so got up to go back to his friends.

'Perhaps our paths will cross again, if you are staying in Paris?'

'We're not really sure what we're doing at the moment, but I don't think we'll be meeting at any medical conferences.'

'You have other interests?'

'I do.'

'Which are?'

Enjolras hesitated, not really sure he wanted to reveal such a significant part of his personality.

'Politics,' he said after a while. 'The controversial kind.'

'I'm listening,' Joly encouraged.

Enjolras found himself telling this medical student all about his political ideals, with such enthusiasm Joly was content to simply sit there and listen. Enjolras had a way with words that no one could match, and he had no idea the effect he could have on people, the effect he was having on Joly.

Enjolras' speech was interrupted by the return of the barmaid. 'Follow me boys, I've got something just for you.'

She gestured for the weary travellers to ascend up a staircase in one corner of the café. Gavroche hurried up first, closely followed by Enjolras, with Courfeyrac assisting a stumbling Grantaire taking up the rear.

The winding staircase led up to a large, open plan room. There was a window looking out onto the street at the far end, and several more windows down each side. The only furniture the room possessed was a grand piano just to the side of the staircase.

'It's not much, but there's no charge, and with the four of you I can't imagine you'll find anything better, or cheaper.'

'It's excellent, thank you so much for your help, but we simply must pay. Will it be suitable to settle it in the morning? I think its time we all got some sleep. We have been travelling for quite some time,' Courfeyrac tried his charm on the barmaid. Although not quite so handsome as his friend, he had some appeal of his own.

'Of course, I'm just about to close up downstairs, then I'm off home. I'll see you in the morning.' And with that they were left alone.

Courfeyrac and Enjolras set Grantaire down to sleep, and sent Gavroche downstairs to get him some water.

'Do you think he'll be alright?' Courfeyrac wondered with concern.

'He'll sleep it off, of course he'll be alright,' Enjolras replied with impatience.

'He always is,' he added after a while.

A few moments later Gavroche returned with the water, but he wasn't alone.

'I heard this was your den for the night,' Joly said with a smile. 'It's very spacious.'

'Joly said he wanted to speak to ya, Enjolras, so I said he could come up here. That okay?'

'Of course Gavroche, now why don't you lie down over there, for a well earned rest.'

'Don't have to tell me twice,' and the tired little boy's eyelids closed as soon as he lay down.

'So, you wanted to talk to me about something?' Enjolras turned to Joly.

'Yes, about your politics.'

'I'm sorry about that,' Courfeyrac interjected, 'once he gets started it's pretty hard to shut him up.'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Enjolras smiled at his friend.

'Just that you have a very high opinion of yourself and what you say.'

'How dare you,' Enjolras stepped back feigning hurt. 'I only think what everyone else does.'

'You're so full of it,' Courfeyrac told him.

'Anyway my point was,' Joly had to prevent himself from laughing at the friendly exchange, 'I think you should tell more people about your ideas.'

'Why?'

'Because people will be interested. New ideas are coming along everyday, but no one has delivered them to me like you did. I have a feeling you're the one to rally the people. Call them to arms if necessary.'

'Don't be absurd, I'm no leader,' Enjolras said in disbelief.

'Yes you are,' Courfeyrac argued. 'You've always led us, without you who knows where we'd be.'

'That's different, we're all friends. We've all played our part.'

'And no one as good as you. I think this old chap may be on to something.'

'Thank you….'

'Courfeyrac, and this is Enjorlas.'

'I'm Joly, now this seems like a good place.'

'For what?' Enjolras asked, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

'Our first meeting.'

And that was how the ABC café came to be the centre of a revolution. As Enjolras and his friends built their life in Paris, they also built a barricade that the world would never forget.