A/N: Happy 2015, mes chers lecteurs! Yes, it has been a long time since I've done any work, and I'm sure all the people waiting patiently for more Hate and Bloody Flag don't want my first writing of the year to be a holiday short published in mid-January, but there you go. There will be an update on Hate coming soon, though. Anyway, this one-shot is set in my own Les Mis universe (I call it the Ultimate universe. You're welcome, Marvel fans!). I had a ton of fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it and forgive me for being very late for the holidays. Allons-y! (you're welcome, Whovians!)
Wow. A Marvel and Doctor Who joke in one Author's Note. My geeky-ness is showing like mad. But who cares? Who jokes are cool. :)
P.S. If I am efficient (which I really can be if I try), than tomorrow after I finish writing my freaking English final, I can get the second chapter up, because it's almost done! :)
December 24, 1831
The ice cracked as Montparnasse's boots walked over the snow, followed by his two cohorts. Low and mean men they were, recruited by the promise of a few decent francs from one of Pantin's disreputable taverns. He'd memorized their names after they volunteered, and while he still couldn't match the name with its proper owner yet, their faces were becoming as familiar to him as his closest friends.
Years of living off Pars's underbelly had taught Montparnasse several things about its local mercenaries. 1): They want to be paid upfront. 2): You can sniff out the ones who playing at tough and are really from the Faubourg Saint-Germain by how new their hats were. And 3): They all knew, by recognition or by name, the girl who was waiting for them under the Pont d'Austerlitz. The girl who slunk in the city's alleys, the girl who dressed as a boy, the girl who had given half her heart to Montparnasse because no one else would claim it, and kept the other half buried under the experience of long years staying out in the cold, hard snow.
Éponine had been becoming more involved in the operations of Patron-Minette recently, and it was no mystery why. While her father may have been a criminal celebrity in his day, he was sinking further and further into obscurity, despite his constant jobs with Patron-Minette. There were some older gamins who'd taken to calling the former innkeeper's garret Le Tombeau du Chacal (The Tomb of the Jackal). The idea of losing influence enraged the man, even more than the fever that had kept him bedridden since October. So Éponine, like any good daughter, carried out her father's orders on his behalf.
The four of them crept towards the gamine, listening to the red-clad carolers above, who sang "The First Noel" and "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" to any passerby with enough Christmas spirit to drop a coin or two in their cups. 'Fools.' thought Montparnasse. There was much better money to be made, if one knew where to look.
Being unemployed and generally bored around this time of year, Montparnasse had taken a solo job, free of Patron-Minette. Tonight, he was working for the notorious Isaac Wolfstein. He'd told him he had a dealer, Bloom, who ran a smuggling business out of his antique store in the Faubourg St. Antoine. He had defaulted on the last five payments he owed Wolfstein. The kingpin's system decreed that five deserved a friendly warning and eight a stern. Montparnasse hoped the old merchant wouldn't reach eight for his sake. He was unlikely to survive Wolfstein's personal brute squad.
The stages of the "friendly" warning consisted of Éponine picking the lock on the door once the street was empty, Montparnasse raiding the till, and Jacques issuing the warning while Gustav (quietly) broke a few of his fingers. Half the money from the till would then be divided up among the three of them, with the other half going to Wolfstein. The whole event would then be passed off as the simple misfortunes of a Jew staying open for business on Christmas Eve.
"You're early." Éponine hissed to him as the four of them walked alongside the frozen Seine. "It's 10:00, according to the bells. Still fifteen minutes before the rest of the shops close."
"Bah." Said Gustav. "I don't mind a little stake-out, as long as there's something to pass the time."
True to her sharp mind, Éponine laughed. "Well, you won't have me to help you with that, buck-o. It's too blasted cold out here for me to enjoy any man."
"Even me?" He whispered in her ear as he reached for her arm.
She swatted his hand away. He wasn't sure if she was being serious or playful. "Even you, you dandy. Now come on." And she led them over the bridge and out of the park, towards Bloom's shop.