I'm back, I suppose. In relation to my other Les Mis story, this should be quite short. No more than fourteen chapters at the most. As of now, I have the majority of it written, so you should expect frequent updates. As I wanted it to be, it's a lot darker than To Keep A Soul, but I suspect not everyone will enjoy it. Anyways, thanks for reading. If you have any ideas on how to improve this story, I welcome them in reviews and private messages. Thank you, as always.
The rain beat down on Eponine heavily, plastering her dark hair to her neck and soaking through her tattered clothes and worn boots chillingly, but, in her hazy mind, she minded none of it at the moment. Leaning her emaciated body against the brick wall of the building her family shared with Marius Pontmercy, she closed her cloudy eyes and wrapped her thin arms around her body, pulling the wet blanket of her ragged shawl around her shoulders as if to keep herself warm. By herself and in the gloomy darkness, if a passerby had happened to notice her at that moment, they would have seen her lips curve into a smile that almost made her pretty for a moment.
"Of course," Eponine murmured to herself, bending her leg and pressing the bottom of one of her scuffed leather boots against the expanse of the brick behind her back. "Of course I love you, Marius. I've always loved you. Ever since I first heard you speak, I knew it then, I did." She whispered to the unfeeling night, her words filled with so much passion she could have been an actress in an opera. "I knew it then. . . ." She continued, throwing her head back against the wall and tilting her chin upwards before letting out a small laugh.
She was soaking wet, chilled to the bone, and her clothing barely sufficed for propriety, even for the poor. But in that moment, unless a real physical Marius suddenly appeared out of the suffocating gloom and professed his uttermost love for her, Eponine was happier than any girl. In her mind, an imaginary boy's arms were wrapped around her body, keeping her dry from the rain and warm from the wind, and she was dressed in the clothes she would wear if her family had not descended so quickly into poverty.
To be truthful, the young woman was more than a little drunk. But then, the only times she could fool herself even remotely enough to be happy was when she drank. So that was what she did, like some carefully planned ritual each afternoon. If she could not find a way to get her hands on any misery reprieving substance within the light of the law, then she would find a way to do it without, usually by stealing or by hustling something from some other drunk. She was careful, however, to never get on anyone's bad side by doing the things she did. Eponine had long ago observed how many people did not, and that was what led to their hasty descent into darkness. Alcohol and opiates seemed to be the main motivation for whores and beggars alike, and she had vowed never to become the same way, because she had also noted the eventual way each whore and beggar died in a painfully harsh haste.
But she was different. She was careful. She would never let herself become so low that she would die for something, unless that something was Marius. But Marius was the one special exception, Eponine had decided. The young, handsome man with the dark curly hair and fresh green eyes that always smiled warmly at her no matter how poor she became was the one unique exempt from her own personal law. Her laws could only ever be broken for him, and only then that would be rare, since he had seemed to be growing distant from her as of late.
Thinking of this last thought, she sighed and her previously constructed fantasies were broken. Suddenly realizing the freezing atmosphere around her as well as her dripping clothes and skirt, she quickly turned and stepped into the building, shoving the door closed behind her and slumping against it for a moment. The interior of her home was hardly warmer than the exterior, but she slid up the stairs all the while, hoping in her heart and soul that Marius was at home and that he would be reading by a warmly lit fire and that he would perhaps not mind her presence if she was quiet enough. Her wishes were to no avail, however. Pausing in his open doorway, she immediately saw the room was dark, empty, and far from warm. He was probably off with his friends again, those boys who she could hear shouting about politics even when she was absent from the cafe where they usually met to discuss their kings and governments. Though he was probably happier and warmer where he was, Eponine could not help but feel a spike of bitter disappointment. She had not seen him much lately, and the notion made her life seem all the much harder.
Slipping into the one room apartment she shared with her family, she found, to her surprise, the entirety of her father's gang, the Patron-Minette, assembled there. When she entered the room, wringing her long hair out so that thick streams of water fell to the floor, she stared at all of the brutes there, who, in turn, stared back at her with a mocking warmth. They usually did not meet in this place, since it was small and cramped for all of the abnormally large men, and Eponine could not imagine why they had all decided to crowd into this one small room tonight. Seeing a smoky fire lit in the hearth, she calmed from her surprise and stepped over gingerly to sit beside it in an attempt to dry off. To her irritation, Montparnasse followed her suit and sat directly beside her, whispering a greeting and a snicker in her ear before wrapping his arm around her waist. Normally, she would have shoved him away, but the young criminal provided warmth which she gladly took.
"Hello, 'Ponine." Her father greeted her, smiling wryly to display two rows of broken and blackened teeth. Promiscuous as he was, she nodded back at him and leaned into the presence of the fire, feeling herself grow slightly sick from the overwhelming scent of cherry tobacco that clung to Montparnasse's entire person. "We all thought you might be interested in a new heist of ours. We need some extra help, anyhow, and we all seemed to agree you'd be perfect for the job."
"I'm listening," She said, wringing her hair out for the second time so that it hung in a limp clump over her shoulder. In her stomach, she felt a familiar pang, and it seemed to urge her ears to listen for any chance of money that may come her way.
"Well, you see now, one of us will enroll in a police academy." Thenardier began, his smile falling to be replaced by a heavily serious expression, his eyes glittering darkly in the firelight. Loudly, Montparnasse snickered, a high, faintly mad sounding noise that came off as annoying to her, though no one else seemed to bother paying him any attention. "And then we'll have one of us on the inside." The ugly man paused, clenching his jaw for a moment as his thin eyebrows bent in a scowl. "On the inside, see, we'll have that someone get close enough to the bastard Inspector."
"Why?" Eponine asked after he paused again, as if he had been waiting for her to ask just such a question. "Why Javert?"
"So we can kill him." Montparnasse said into her ear, just loud enough so the entire room could hear his soft and silken voice muttering to her sensually. "That filth of a man is, after all, our biggest problem at the moment. Especially after he picked up Brujon last week and dumped the bloody bloke in prison."
Eponine nodded in understanding, untying the scraps of leather over her feet and massaging her bruised heels and toes, the roughened skin cracked and bleeding slightly. At the sight, she gave a grieving sigh and attempted to wipe away the little trails of blood. "So who's going to be our little rat?" She asked, looking up at each man in turn, becoming more and more confused as she noted the faint and cold sparks of amusement in their eyes. All at once, the panging in her middle was replaced by one of a different breed, and dread began to make whatever heart she had left feel heavy in her chest. "No." She said, suddenly, her lips twisting in a concerned smile. "You cannot possibly be serious. How on Earth would I even-"
Grinning at her, Thenardier pulled a pair of rusted and warped scissors from the fold of his unraveling shirt, instantly silencing his head strong daughter. In an effort to calm herself, she exhaled a scoffing sort of laugh before looking away from them all, pretending that the entire scene was just some grand and frivolous joke. When their eyes sharpened at her, dim and stupid as the criminals may be, Eponine felt a cloud of anxiety begin to threaten her, making her empty stomach clench in on itself even further as she grimaced.
"Why can't Montparnasse do it?" Eponine demanded of them, her eyebrows curling into an upset and aggravated scowl. "Why can't any of you do it? Don't you think it would be trouble to have a woman impersonating a man becoming a police officer?"
"The cops know Montparnasse's face too well." One of the smarter crooks said, his throaty voice stealing the warmth the fire had created in her, as if a new sluice of icy water had been dumped over her again. The man shifted slightly, seemingly uncomfortable in the lighted atmosphere, and he moved in such a way that the light from the fire caught his face, illuminating the scars etched across his skin from various cuts and healed sores. Though she knew most of the men of her father's gang by face, voice, and name, and, although she had seen him a few short times before, this particular man did not seem to be very familiar with her. Though she could not tell what, something about him seemed to unnerve Eponine. But then again, didn't everything unnerve her? "Same with the rest of us. Bastard Inspector's got a memory to be feared." He spat, bitterly, and she took note of the rage buried shallowly behind his eyes.
"And they don't know my face?" She debated, burying her fingers in the ratty and stained fabric of her skirt before shaking a persistent Montparnasse away from her. "Me who they've thrown in the brook more times than I can remember? This is ridiculous!" To her disgust, the handsome man at her side took hold of her wrist violently and squeezed it with enough force that she could not pry his fingers away from her already bruised flesh, his lips parting in a snarl to display his pretty white teeth. "This is completely ridiculous." Eponine repeated in a distressed hiss as his grip tightened on her. "I don't know how any of you could ever think this would work!"
"It will work precisely because it is ridiculous, you stupid woman." Montparnasse said through gritted teeth, his tight and painful clamp over her arm increasing so that her round face contorted in a pained wince. Seeing this, he released her, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as if he meant to smile lovingly. "The coppers might be expecting one of our men to pull a stunt like this, but they wouldn't expect a woman of all things. There's no reason to suspect a man of crimes against the law if they've never seen him before, even if he does look a bit like a scrawny bitch who doesn't know when to hold her tongue." He whispered, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting against the wall beside the fireplace as if his latest act of violence had satisfied his need for sadism for the time being. "You'll do as your father tells you, you disobedient whore, or you'll be out in the cold."
Nursing her wrist, Eponine's scowl darkened, but she said nothing further in her defense. Before her father and before Montparnasse, she had no voice. Finally, she said in a quiet voice, making the men of the room and even her mother laugh boisterously, "I'm not a whore."
"No." Thenardier said, his nicotine damaged voice still tittering in a laugh. "But if you don't do everything I tell you to do you will be soon."
Suppressing a shudder, the spark in her eyes dampened as much as her clothes and, seeing the disappearance of his daughter's pride, Thenardier beckoned her over to him, the frighteningly hideous pair of scissors waving her over in his hand. Her hands clenched into fists, Eponine stood, her matted and dampened hair hanging over her neck coldly as she walked across the room and sat at her father's feet. Her eyes downcast to the dusty floor beneath her, Eponine remembered her devotion to Marius and she said in a shaky mutter, "Can't I say goodbye to anyone before I have to do this?"
"Who do you have to say goodbye to?" Montparnasse asked, his lips twisting into another humorless grin. "The neighbor boy 'cross the hall? Haven't been playing unfaithful to me, have you 'Ponine?" The room erupted into laughter again, faithfulness being a concept completely alien to Montparnasse's own life, and she did not say anything more.
"What if I'm caught?" She murmured, her voice growing more and more miniscule as the minutes fell away and slipped from her tightened hands. "They could put me in prison for a long time. Wh-what if they want to do something worse?"
"Then don't get caught." Was all Montparnasse said, leaning back and stretching his arms lazily.
The room fell silent as soon as the faint sound of the scissors shearing away at her long brown hair was heard. Her hair was obviously too damaged and tangled for it to even gain a slight profit, so there was no care while he cut it. He simply attempted a straight line as he hacked into her thick, matted waves, gripping her head roughly in his dirtied hands and making her flinch repeatedly. The inhabitants of the room watched, all lost in their own thoughts, as Thenardier gathered the cut strands in his grimy hand until her filthy locks were gone, nothing but an uneven spur of brown hair flaring out jaggedly over her thin neck. With a lazy hand, he tossed her hair to the floor and turned his daughter by the shoulder to view her appearance now that her most feminine quality was gone.
"Put some trousers on and you could be a boy." He said at last, his face unnaturally contemplative as he did so. In silence, she nodded as he forced a frayed cap over her head messily. Grinning at her, he said in a voice cracked with delight at the prospect of his plan coming to life, "You know, I always wanted a nice son to make me some good money. Now I think I have one." For the third time, the room laughed again, the men adding their own various comments in an attempt to humor their leader.
Thenardier seemed to give one final reassurance to the men before they all left, giving a speech worthy of only the seediest criminal to encourage them in their new efforts, though Eponine did not even hear or even register his well planned out words. Instead, she stayed crouched over the floor in the center of the room, her hand absentmindedly moving against the the back of her neck as if searching for the hair that wasn't there any longer. When all else left, even Thenardier and his wife to do some side business, Montparnasse remained in the room with her. With a haughty stride from the hearth, he stood to stand in front of her weary face, placing one large hand over her shoulder as if he meant to comfort her. When Eponine looked into his eyes, however, she saw nothing but the usual rotted out remains of his soul that she had seen floating there since he had first started committing crimes worse than pickpocketing.
"I'll cut your hair so it's more fashionable, sweetheart," He said, uttering the last word mockingly before taking the seat Thenardier had occupied so that he sat behind her. Narrowing his eyes and parting his pink lips, Montparnasse wound one arm across her front, his hand absentmindedly straying against the small expanse of her breasts as he pressed his cold lips to her shoulder. Sighing heavily, she leaned back into his presence as his hand slipped beneath her blouse and felt the smooth, wet skin of her hidden flesh. Closing her eyes, Eponine offered him no resistance, only imagining that it was Marius who was touching her instead of Montparnasse, and her anxiety ebbed slightly. When he grew bored with her, from his pocket the young man withdrew a freshly sharpened and polished knife and removed the old cap from her head. Carefully, he began to cut away at the frayed remnants of her hair, his face calm as he relaxed in this art. "You had ugly hair, anyways." He said, decidedly as Eponine watched the small tufts he cut from her scalp fall to the floor around her.