Behind the barricade, scattered amongst the broken wood and tattered flags, Les Amis de l'ABC rested; some sleeping, some thinking, some drinking. Their day had damaged them as much as their surroundings, and Courfeyrac, having just been relieved by Grantaire of the watch, was grateful for the chance to be at peace.
"Courf?" He heard a whisper, after some time, and turned his head towards his companion.
"Yes, Gavroche?"
"We're going to die, Courf."
Courfeyrac sat upright, turning towards Gavroche. He expected the boy to be frightened, but instead, he found him relaxed, leaning quite comfortably against their barricade. He shook his head, "We're fighting. We're winning. We won't die."
Gavroche shrugged. "Yes, we'll keep on fighting," he said. "But they'll starve us out if they don't shoot us. The Revolution won't die, Courf - but we will."
The calm acceptance with which the boy spoke stirred something within Courfeyrac. He wondered at how much heartache he must he have suffered for him to speak so serenely about dying on a barricade... How badly life must have treated him. Indeed, in his heart, Courfeyrac knew that he would die in the Revolution; he knew that, Enjolras knew that, Grantaire knew that, Marius - probably - knew that. And yet, no one had said so, except this little boy who so proudly wore his rosette, and possessed more worldly wisdom than any of his elders.
Courfeyrac considered Gavroche for a while before he asked, "And how do you feel about that?"
He shrugged. "It's alright, I suppose," said the boy. "I mean, it's like Enjolras says - our little lives don't count at all, right?"
Courfeyrac swallowed a lump in his throat. "No, Gavroche - no, they don't."
Courfeyrac had tried to take Gavroche away from the Revolution, to safety. He'd tried to coax him, force him, even beg him, but there was no use. Gavroche had found a home and a family amidst the revolution. He loved his Amis, and was so willing to give his young life for their cause, and for them. Courfeyrac wished for nothing more than Gavroche's safety but, at the end of the day, weren't they all mere boys, risking their own young lives? All of them, children with rifles, nothing more than boys of the barricades.
The pair were silent for some time, during which Courfeyrac laid back down to think about what they'd said, and Gavroche stood up, telling Courfeyrac that he wanted to help with the watch. He ran, and began to scale the barricade towards Grantaire, joyfully calling, "Goodnight, Courf," as he climbed.
"God help him," whispered Courfeyrac as he closed his eyes. He listened to Gavroche's youthful laugh ring in his ears.
Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in Heaven has in store... One more day.
One day more.