/Prologue/

Gavroche lay, absorbed in pain and trying unsuccessfully to move. He'd been singing, singing and collecting bullets just a few moments ago. A flash of light... and everything had gone black. Now that his sight was full of colors once more, he tried to distinguish the forms that were moving all around. He noticed his hero, Enjolras, fall suddenly, not three feet away from him. Crumpling wordlessly, soundlessly. Facing something that really didn't look like a hero's death.

The gamin soon noticed that he couldn't hear anything. Lights and mouthing had to be accompanied with sounds... It couldn't be reality now... this was far too much like a dream. He'd probably wake up in a few minutes, to find the barricades full of cartridges and the battle still waiting to start. As an easy experiment, he tried to lift his arm... but he couldn't feel anything where his arm used to be. Shocked and aghast, thinking that he'd lost his arm, he tried to tremble. It was then when he noticed that he couldn't feel anything else, let alone the existence of his body. His nerves. Must have a problem. He closed his eyes for a second. And reopened it.

Someone in uniform was on him, laid flat on the ground. As the man ducked to avoid the bullet that was coming his way, and his eyes met with Gavroche. Gavroche tried to look away, look dead, but remembered too late that he couldn't move. The man, with revulsion in his eyes, aimed his gun at Gavroche. A sudden flash of light blinded him.

And everything was black once again.

/Chapter 1/

Gavroche opened his eyes groggily. Somehow, it felt as though he'd been sleeping for too long. He blinked, and his eyes focused slowly. Not that it made much of a difference. Everything that surrounded Gavroche was a fine cover of white. He couldn't really make out shapes when everything was in the same color. Of course, it didn't help that the light that seemed to radiate out of the whiteness hurt his eyes, making it impossible to see anything. He half-closed his eyes, and began to think.

He tried to remember what had happened before it went black... He remembered Enjolras falling dead with a stab of pain in his innocent heart, but cast the thought away. Some man... Someone in an army uniform had undoubtedly shot him. He'd seen the gun flash right in front of his very eyes. Surely that must've killed him. That would mean that he was dead... so this is... The afterlife?

He thought harder, now opening his eyes. His eyes now adjusted to the blinding white, although there still was nothing to see. He was probably dead, and everything around him was white. The substance that he was lying on was soft, a softness that he had never felt before. It was so comfortable, that Gavroche had only one explanation fitting for this wonderful place.

This must be heaven.

His heart started to thump when he considered the possibilities. If this really was heaven, then his hearing, which he remembered losing, would be back. He decided to do a few experiments.

"Ahem. Uh, testing? Oh, whatever." He could hear alright, and clear as a bell. Although he felt really stupid, and was glad that nobody was around to hear, he was so very relieved. He now realized that he could feel his body as well - a good sign. He went back to thought again. If this really was heaven, everyone who had died out, Enjolras, Eponine, Grantaire and a lot of others who had died, he remembered with a jolt in his heart, insignificantly all together. Thoughts of the battle made a single tear leak out of his eyes. He hastily moved his arm to wipe it, when he felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder. He howled in pain, not something that he'd usually do, but he had been caught completely off guard.

'This can't be true... heaven won't hurt this much...' he thought, but even as he thought that, his right shoulder and stomach hurt like hell. He was so taken by the pain; he soon forgot his anticipation for seeing his friends. It took him all his power of self-control to not yell out the first time he had felt the pain. Now that his senses were back to Earth, he noticed that a thin sheet was covering him up, and he was lying in a bed.

"Oh, crap. I'm in a hospital?" He murmured to himself, completely aware that there would be no one to hear him. 'No,' he corrected in his mind, 'there's no one who'll care enough to listen...' His eyes seemed to burn again. He didn't mind crying now. There was no one to watch, he won't get to see his friends anyway, and here he was, completely lost in pain, no one could blame him for being miserable. Soon, he was shaking violently, sobbing harder than ever. Gavroche couldn't believe the situation. With all the misery he had to cope with in his short life, that dammed god wouldn't even let him die in peace. No one was with him now, except his crappy family and even that was incomplete. And even if it was whole, he would rather die than live with them. He was lost in his sobs in no time, though it hurt like hell. So absorbed, he didn't even notice someone opening the door to the room and watching silently.

Well, just thought it'd be nice to write a Gavroche Fic, mainly 'cause I like him so much.

This is my first fic ever, so please give me some helpful words to improve!