AN: I never really thought I'd write fanfiction again. I just figured that these things are better left to the author, or people who write fanfiction better than me. But I have just been so obsessed with what was going on in Courfeyrac's mind during Gavroche's death. We all know how upset he was. Like, seriously. I cried the hardest when Gavroche died (favorite character), but partially because of Courfeyrac's reaction. So here it is. Let me know what you think!

Italics are flashbacks, to clarify.

Oh, and if you have any requests as to moments in the movie/musical that you'd like to see from a specific person's point of view, sort of like this, request it and if I think I can (meaning if I feel confident enough for that scene) I'll write it.

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own Les Mis. That would be fabulous, but I don't.

Courfeyrac sat at the foot of the barricade, methodically cleaning his gun. His mindless task did nothing, however, to quell the doubts rising up within him, all seeking to grasp him in their claws. Hope was low. They were alone; Paris had abandoned them.

They were alone. The words hit Courfeyrac like a tangible blow. Would any of them get out of this alive? All of his friends had their lives on the line, not just Courfeyrac himself. There was Marius, Feuilly, Joly, Combeferre, Enjolras, Gavroche…Gavroche. Where was he? Courfeyrac hadn't seen him since the boy had left to deliver the letter for Marius. His heart sped up immediately, and Courfeyrac tried to reassure himself, now fully absorbed in his thoughts, the task of cleaning his gun in preparation for the next battle entirely forgotten.

Gavroche was fine, he told himself firmly—as firmly as he could manage. He probably wasn't even at the barricade yet. He was safe, he was safe, he was safe.

He had to be.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the whispered words reached him: "Enjolras, we need more ammunition."

A thread of determination within Courfeyrac strengthened. This was what he had prepared for. He continued where he had left off in cleaning his weapon with renewed vigor. He knew that he probably wouldn't make it out alive. If he was to go down, he would go down fighting with his friends.

"Little people know, when little people fight…"

Courfeyrac froze, sure he was imagining things. The small voice, ringing through the air. A voice that made him feel more fear than any army he would ever face, or even his own imminent death, ever could.

Gavroche.

"…we may look easy pickings, but we've got some bite!"

Courfeyrac rose to his feet, still unwilling to believe the evidence. He saw Combeferre leaning slightly over the barricade, hissing something that Courfeyrac could not make out. His hands began to shake. Combeferre was speaking to someone on the other side of the barricade. The unprotected side of the barricade.

"So never kick a dog because he's just a pup…"

A shot rang out, nearly stopping Courfeyrac's heart on the spot. He began to make his way to where Combeferre leaned against the barricade, feeling as if he was in a dream. Someone touched his arm, said something, but Courfeyrac brushed him off, not stopping.

"…we fight like twenty armies, and we won't give up!"

Courfeyrac reached the top of the barricade, dreading what he would find. Any hope that he had that he was wrong, that Gavroche was still safe, instantly shattered. The reality was worse than he had imagined. Gavroche, collecting ammunition, grinning at the soldiers who aimed their guns straight at him, practically daring them to hit him. Daring them to try. Without stopping to weigh his options, Courfeyrac threw himself forward. "Gavroche? Gavroche, what are you doing?" he cried, fighting against the arms that were suddenly dragging him back. Why were they stopping him? His life didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting his friend—his brother—back to safety. Frustrated tears pricked his eyes. Why wouldn't they let him go?

Combeferre dragged him back, ignoring his protests, whispering words that Courfeyrac did not hear. Another shot rang out, this time eliciting a grunt of pain from the littlest revolutionary. Listening to Gavroche's pain hurt more than getting shot himself. "I have to help him!" Courfeyrac cried desperately. "Gavroche!"

"So you'd better run for cover…" Though laced with pain, Gavroche's voice was still determined.

Finally breaking free of the arms that held him down, Courfeyrac leaped to the foot of the barricade and sprinted for the entrance. "Stop him!" "Hold him back!" The shouts followed him, but Courfeyrac fought with every ounce of his strength. They couldn't keep him from Gavroche. They couldn't.

"When the pup…"

Courfeyrac reached the entrance, grabbing it with one hand as someone grabbed the other arm, trying to pull him back. "Gavroche!" he yelled, watching the scene unfold. His little revolutionary, bloodly, pale, and brave.

Fighting to the end.

"Grows…"

The last gunshot. Courfeyrac watched in horror as Gavroche's body, pierced for the second time, bent back and collapsed on the hard ground.

Ripping his arm free from whoever was holding it, Courfeyrac scrambled over to the fallen soldier, falling to his knees. He placed a hand over the boy's heart. Nothing. Choking back a sob, he lifted the boy's tiny body and raced back to the relative safety of the barricade.

"Courfeyrac!" The boy's lively, ever-cheerful voice entered his mind. "Courfeyrac, I'm going to help you in your revolution! I'm going to be a soldier, just like you and Marius and Enjolras!"

A tear traced its way down Courfeyrac's cheek.

"That was my sister," he whispered, misery making a mark on his young heart as he buried his face in Courfeyrac's shirt, letting the student wrap him in an embrace.

He shook with his first full sob.

"Good evening, dear Inspector. Lovely evening, my dear." The kid laughed, his lightheartedness contrasting the severity of the damage that Javert might have done. "I know this man, my friends, his name's Inspector Javert!"

Courfeyrac laid Gavroche's rapidly cooling body on the ground, now sobbing uncontrollably as he held onto his friend, who he had taken as his own brother.

"So don't believe a word he says, 'cause none of it's true! This only goes to show what little people can do!" Gavroche danced down from his place on the barricade into Courfeyrac's embrace, laughing as Javert was towed away.

Gavroche's body was taken away, Combeferre's arms around him as he whispered "I'm right here" again and again.

At last, Courfeyrac's tears dried, but the chasm in his heart was left unhealed.

"You at the barricade, listen to this!"

Courfeyrac knew. He knew they were alone. They were abandoned. They were lost. But he would make them pay. Pay for the lives they had taken. For the life of the bravest of all of them, who had captured the heart of every student.

Courfeyrac would see Gavroche again.

Because when he went down, he would go down fighting for his friend, as he had gone down fighting for them.