"There were odd stories about him; as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened." - J. M. Barrie, "Peter Pan"

"Hey! Hey Gavroche! Wake up!" Someone kicked Gavroche in the ribs. "Time to go, stupid!"

The gamin rolled over and groaned. "Rousseau," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"La nez dans le ruisseau c'est la faute à Rousseau," sang Gavroche hoarsely, opening his eyes. He saw before him a boy, about his own age, dressed entirely in leaves. He scrambled to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at the boy. "Qui es-toi?"

"Oh," said the boy in leaves. "You're French. I'll have to fix that. Tink!"

There was a tinkling of bells, and Gavroche looked around wildly to see what it was. His eye landed on a tiny girl with wings, and his eyes grew wide.

"Tink, make Gavroche talk English. I can't understand him."

The bells tinkled again. "What's going on?" asked Gavroche, in English.

"You're dead," said the other boy matter-of-factly.

"I'm what?"

"Dead. You got shot. Remember?"

Gavroche looked around him, and the bodies of dead soldiers - as well as his own body, which startled him - reminded him of what he had been doing just a few minutes before. "Oh. So this is what being dead's like, huh?"

"Only for a little bit," replied the boy. "We've gotta get you to Heaven now. Stand still." Gavroche did so, and the boy blew some sort of dust on him. "Now think happy thoughts, and fly!" the boy instructed.

With thoughts of fresh bread and juicy meat in his head, Gavroche rose a few inches off the ground. He picked up his feet, his eyes even wider than before as he learned that he could lift both at once.

"Good," said the boy, rubbing his hands on his leaf shirt. "Now we're ready to go. Follow me!" With that, he leapt into the air and out of sight.

"Hey! I can't follow you if I can't see you!" yelled Gavroche.

The boy reappeared. "Sorry," he said. "I should have told you to follow Tink." He then disappeared again.

"Tink?" said Gavroche. The bells answered him, and the winged girl flew in front of his face. She beckoned for him to follow her, and darted in the direction the boy had gone, leaving a trail of light for Gavroche to follow. With a shrug, he thought about a warm fire and followed her.

After a few minutes, Gavroche caught up with the boy. "You're a pretty good flier," the boy said, surprised. "Good thing you're dead." The boy jumped off the air and somersaulted upwards, landing on a cloud. "Can you do that?"

Gavroche tried it, and failed. "Well, can you steal soap from a barber without him noticing?" he asked, glaring as the boy rolled around and laughed.

"I can kill pirates," the boy said haughtily. "That's better." The tinkling of bells agreed with him.

Gavroche stuck out his tongue at the boy. "I bet I could kill pirates if I tried!"

The boy narrowed his eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Fortunately, the winged girl intervened before the two boys came to blows. With a strength remarkable for her size, she picked up Gavroche by his hair and threw him onto another cloud. She then flew around the boy's ear, sounding her bells and reminding him of his errand.

"C'mon," the boy said, holding his hand out to Gavroche and seeming to have forgotten that he had been ready to kill him a few moments earlier, "let's go to Heaven. We're running late."

"I don't wanna go," grumbled Gavroche, whose memory was slightly better.

"Then I'll have to take you there," said the boy. He grabbed Gavroche's collar and they flew onward.

"Hey!" said Gavroche, spotting a large gate with winged and halo-ed people on the other side. "I think we're supposed to stop here!"

The boy cupped his hands around his eyes, dropping Gavroche in the process. "You're right. I'm glad I thought of that."

Gavroche sulked from the cloud he'd landed on. "I thought of it!"

The boy paid him no attention. "Well, now that we're here, I've gotta go get more dead kids. You won't be scared, will you? I'm supposed to make sure you're not scared," he said importantly.

"I'm not scared of anything, especially a bunch of angels!" declared Gavroche. "You can leave." Then, as the boy started to fly away, "Wait!" called Gavroche. The boy stopped and looked at him inquisitively. "You never told me who you were!"

"You can call me Peter Pan," said the boy. Accompanied by his little winged friend, he flew off into the distance.

Gavroche watched the little trail of light they left until it disappeared completely. Puzzling over the name the boy had given him, he flew to the gate to begin his afterlife.

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