A/N: I feel like this scene could be placed into the story between "ABC Cafe/Red and Black" and "Do You Hear the People Sing?" Just a little play on the relationship that the U.S. Tour cast seemed to hint on between Grantaire and Gavroche.

Grantaire sat at a table alone, a bottle of rum in hand. A half empty bottle or a half full bottle. He hadn't decided which way to look at it. But either way it would soon be completely empty and no longer full. He downed a long gulp of the liquor, watching the young boy Gavroche playing a gambling game with a couple other students.

The boy laughed and chuckled, snapping out snarky remarks as he easily chatted with men who were older and more intelligent than him. He was so very much like his father. But who knew except himself? Gavroche's mother had told him that he was the father, whether he wanted him or not. He'd hardly seen anything of Madeline after Gavroche had been born, until he showed up on the streets. Homeless. Madeline had fallen victim to her trade, like so many young women did.

That's how Gavroche round up living completely on the streets, but spending his time in the Cafe. It was remarkable to see how much the twelve year old boy had turned out like Grantaire, having never known him. He admired Grantaire and his harsh comments and bright wit.

No matter how much Grantaire wanted to deny any authentic care he felt for Gavroche, his heart swelled with pride whenever he would tell someone off or bring some useful snippet of news. Gavroche was a trickster and a cunning thief. A boy that would make any father like Grantaire proud.

But no would ever know that secret. Gavroche was no more than a street child who'd been welcomed into the Cafe. No affiliation. No commitment. No need to show that he had something to live and fight for. Enjolras would never let him live down that truth.

"France is going to be searching for where their liquor supply's gone to." Enjolras chuckled as he sat down at the table across from Grantaire. "And all roads lead to you."

Grantaire laughed merrily, "And when I drown in it, I will drown a very happy man."

"I am thankful that that is one habit I never started." Enjolras pried the bottle from his hand, setting it on the table to keep him from dropping it. "You're a wreck Grantaire. What woman's scorned you now?"

"Every and all. The only one I ever cared about I'm the one who scorned her." Grantaire covered his face in shame, rubbing it in an attempt to stimulate his mind. He felt like his head was in a fog. Perhaps Enjolras was correct about having had too much.

"Which one was that?"

"Madeline."

"Good God Grantaire. Madeline was over a decade ago. If you are still mourning over her then you are not the Grantaire I know."

Grantaire shrugged his shoulders, "It's the rum talking. I can't even remember what she looked like." He closed his eyes, vividly seeing the auburn haired women in his mind's eye. Ivory skin with lovely freckles.

"We were young then, Grantaire. A decade passed and we have both changed in many ways." Enjolras laughed as Grantaire took the bottle back and emptied. "And some things haven't changed."

"You're still almighty, do-no-wrong, Jacobite Enjolras."

Enjolras shook his head at his drunk friend, "You're still a committed drunk."

"Ha!" Grantaire burst, "I'm far from committed. I can't even admit my own kin."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Grantaire groaned, resting his head in his palms. The liquor was talking. "Nothing at all."

"You can't admit kin?" Enjolras pressed, quirking a brow. "Do tell."

"Madeline. I could have made her an honest woman. I could have married her. She'd still be alive."

"You've heard from her since? You never said a word."

Grantaire's nostrils flared as he breathed heavily, "She's dead. She'd five years dead. Leaving behind a child." His eyes drifted towards Gavroche, still laughing and playing cards with Marius and Jolly.

Enjolras turned, glancing over his shoulder to see who he was looking at. "Gavroche?"

"What?" Grantaire looked shocked that Enjolras had been clever enough, even though he knew he was cleverer than any other man at the Cafe. "No."

"Gavroche was Madeline's son?"

"Yes."

Enjolras smirked, "I believe I now know what you mean."

"You don't know anything."

"Gavroche is your," Enjolras lowered his voice, "son."

"No."

"I see it now. The personalities, the features, you wanted to bring him here. It makes since. Does he know?"

"No." Grantaire ran his hands through his hair. "He won't ever know. He's better off without a drunk for a father."

"He's better off with a father when he doesn't even have one."

Grantaire shook his head, "No. Respect my choice. He will never know."

"You already treat him like a son, why not let him know. Give the boy something real." Enjolras glanced over his shoulder at where Grantaire was watching Gavroche, "You care for him like a son."

"But he doesn't need me. He needs all of us. I can't be who you think I can be for him. He's better off without me. Let it be Enjolras, let it be." Grantaire sucked in a shaky breath, resting his elbows on the table and burying his face into his hands. "He's better off without me."

"But he is your son and you know that for sure?"

"Madeline told me that I was his father. That was before she entered a different business. That was before I cared. I was young and I had a whole life laid out in front of me. I didn't need some factory worker's bastard child to care for." Grantaire groaned into his hands, "What have I done Enjolras? If anything happens to him-"

"Nothing's going to happen to him Grantaire."

He shook his head, wrapping his hands around the bottle, "But, if anything happens to him because of me. Because I was to self absorbed to want to raise him. Because I didn't want to give him the life that could have kept him safe. There is no life to live."