It was dark. Three o'clock in the morning tended to be pretty dark, at least from Eponine's experience.
"This is the building, 'Ponine."
"What did I say about calling me 'Ponine?" Eponine growled at Montparnasse.
Montparnasse scowled at her. "Do you want to case this place or not?"
Eponine rolled her nut brown eyes. "Actually, I don't. This is a terrible idea and I really don't want to fucking do it."
"No need to get so aggressive," Montparnasse chided. "This isn't an audition tape for the Sopranos."
"No need to talk down to me," Eponine retorted. "I'm not your toy."
Montparnasse wheeled his hand back, preparing to punch the girl, who ducked just in time as his fist hit the brick wall. He hissed in pain. "You'll regret that."
"Do you want to case this place or not?" Eponine imitated. "Come on. Let's do what we came here to do and then get the hell out."
Montparnasse swore at her, and then linked his hands together to give her a boost. Their old signal, their old routine. It felt like the olden days, but it wasn't, and it would never be that way again. They could pretend and try to be the same accomplices they used to be, but it wouldn't work, not after what happened. "No matter," Eponine said to herself under her breath, and then pounded her foot into Montparnasse's folded hands, bouncing slightly as she leaped towards the escalated fire escape.
Montparnasse whistled. "You get me so hard when you do that."
Eponine flipped him off, not smiling. "Come on. Let's just get this over with."
"You haven't forgotten. You ain't done this in, what, six months?"
"It's like riding a bike," Eponine muttered. She bounced in midair, thankful that she'd been trained in gymnastics as a child. The rusty fire escape slid down with a clang, and she got the same rush she always did when falling towards the earth, swinging her legs up just in time before she landed too hard. She helped herself up as Montparnasse, arms crossed, looked hard at the window.
"Third floor. Hard escape."
"Third floor. More fun. You'll stand guard here, I assume," Eponine stated.
"Nah. I'll come with you. Aint nobody who knows the documents they need more than I do."
Eponine huffed. There went my plan of running off as soon as he turned his head.
"Are we doing this or nah?" an impatient Montparnasse interrupted her thoughts.
The girl nodded, zipped her black jacket up to her chin, tightened her ponytail, and silently began the ascent up the rusty, creaky stairs, her partner in crime three steps behind her.
"Mm, baby, your ass looks so good in those pants," murmured Montparnasse. "I can't wait to get home so I can get some of that."
Eponine whirled around, hair flying. "Fuck you," she said, looking straight into his eyes. She turned back, continuing the climb.
"Why you gotta be so frigid?"
"Why you gotta be such an asshole?" Eponine retorted. "I don't think I'd sleep with you in a million years."
Montparnasse grabbed her ponytail, holding her tight from behind on the landing of the second level. She felt something cold and metal, a whisper of a threat, trace her neck. "You won't sass me, girl. You'll give to me what's mine," he breathed into her ear.
"Let's just case this place."
"That's the spirit, Spitfire," he whispered, planting a sloppy kiss on the side of her mouth from behind, slipping a greasy hand down the front of her leggings. It was all Eponine could do not to fight back, but she couldn't; the knife was still at her throat. It was all Eponine could do not to cry, but she couldn't; Eponine Thenardier did not cry. So Eponine calmly slipped her own hand into her leggings and removed his larger hand, smiling humorlessly. "We have to go."
"There's more where that came from, girl," Montparnasse grinned, slipping his index finger into his mouth and making an audible sigh of delight.
Eponine scoffed and continued climbing, heart beating and breaking at the same time.
It wasn't two minutes later that they got to the sliding door they knew was right and the window to the left of it. "Ladies first?" Montparnasse asked politely.
But Eponine was already on it. She opened her wallet and grabbed her fake identification card. She never used it, never had to use it, really, unless she was on the job. So Eponine took her card, jammed it in the space between the door and the lock, and jimmied it up and down and left and right until the lock opened with a spring.
"You haven't lost your touch," Montparnasse started.
"Shut the fuck up." The girl quietly pushed the window open, praying for no noise. She then jumped slightly, situating her bottom on the dusty windowsill. She deftly maneuvered her slim body into the window, putting her arms in to land in a silent tumble.
Her eyes squinted as she tried to take in the dark scene around her. She pivoted to open the door behind her so the larger Montparnasse could enter, too. "Five minutes," she breathed into his ear. Five minutes until they had to go.
"On it," he muttered back, and he turned to scamper into the office room, flashlight in hand.
Eponine stood watch by the kitchen cabinets. She ran a finger over the granite, feeling its smooth chill echo the one rolling up her spine. The girl then realized what she had just done, and wiped whatever fingerprints there might have been off with her sleeve.
She then thought of Montparnasse in the next room. Why, oh why had he grown into such a scumbag? First they had been friends. As soon as she moved to the brick hovel, the young neighbor down the hall had helped her learn to love her new home. Then they were schoolmates. And then came the one day that her father had learned of Montparnasse and had taken him under his wing. Not two days later had he turned into the monster he was today; not two days later had he held her down, gun to temple, and assaulted her, tears streaming down her face, mouth open in a perpetual, silent scream. She had said no. She had said stop. But her former best friend hadn't listened, and he didn't stop listening to this day.
Speaking of Montparnasse, what was that clang from the next room? And why was he tearing past her silently through the door?
Wait. Did he get caught and he's not even fucking taking me away with him?
The lights switched on. Eponine shielded her eyes, squinting until she could bear the brightness. Her small form stood strong, not reflecting her thoughts, which were pretty much going oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.
Her eyes adjusted to the light almost as soon as the man on the other side of the room's did. She defiantly looked him in the eye, not bothering to look down.
"What are you doing in he-wait. You're the shadow," laughed Enjolras, not bothing to hide his disgust.
"So this is your apartment then, Enjolras," she smirked. Shit. I know him.