A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! And thank you to my first reviewer. I'm really glad you're enjoying the story so far.
A couple more weeks passed and Éponine had settled in with a new job as a seamstress in a dress shop in the Place Saint-Denis. The work was easy enough as she knew how to sew well enough. The more complicated stitches and designs had eluded her at first, but a fellow seamstress had provided her with a book full of different stitches and patterns. It had basically become like her bible. She had also found a one room apartment that she could only just afford. She still didn't always have enough for full meals, but she made enough money to get by. It was freeing to no longer live under her father's thumb, to be able to talk to whomever she'd like and do whatever she'd like.
Yes, things were going fairly well at first. Then, suddenly, they weren't.
Another couple weeks had passed and Éponine had come to a terrible realisation: she was late. She had been late before, sure; being grossly underweight can do that, but she had never been this late before. It couldn't be; she refused to accept it. How would she tell Marius? How could she? Not when he had no idea that they had been intimate to begin with. Maybe, she thought, maybe he doesn't have to know. Besides, it's Christmas next week. I can't ruin that. And I might be wrong, anyway. So she was determined not to mention anything, at least not yet. Not until she could be sure.
This was bad enough, but unfortunately it wasn't the only misfortune to befall her. The following week, only a couple days before Christmas, Éponine's employer called her into his office.
"Mademoiselle Jondrette," he started (she had kept the false last name used by her family), "I have been very impressed with your performance." He got up from his desk and moved around to approach her. "Very impressed indeed. In fact, I think it may be time for a little promotion." He was getting very close to her. Éponine grit her teeth, knowing exactly what he was getting at. She backed into the wall and he put his hands on the wall, on either side of her head. "If you help me out with a little something, I can make it well worth your while."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I'll be forced to conclude that you are not a team player and therefore not a good fit for my establishment."
"I wasn't aware your establishment was a whore house," she replied scathingly. "I'll find work elsewhere."
He laughed harshly. "You can try. Now come on. Be a good little girl and I'll give you a nice Christmas bonus."
Smack! Her hand collided hard with his cheek.
"You'll regret that, you bitch!" He growled. He made to grab at her, but she seized his shoulders and brought her knee up hard into his groin. He doubled over and she pushed him down.
"I'll be going now," she said coldly. She turned and left the office, and found that the two other seamstresses that worked there were watching the door with baited breath, as though they knew their employer's intentions.
"Did he...?" One asked. Éponine shook her head.
"I've decided to seek employment elsewhere. I would advise you two to do the same."
The second seamstress, Jeannette, gave a sad smile. "There aren't many options left to us. We got rent to pay, kids to feed. It's best for us to let him do what he wants, really. We need the money and he pays well enough for it. But I hope you find your way, and you can keep that book I gave you."
"Thanks," Éponine said quietly. "I... I wish there were something I could do to help you two."
"Well, if you ever make something of yourself," said the first seamstress, Louise, "remember us. Come and see us, if you're ever able."
"Right. I... I'll do that."
...
Once she returned to her apartment, Éponine set about counting what little money she had. If she could just make rent for the week, that would give her time to find a new job.
"Three and eighteen... nineteen... twenty. Four francs. Fuck." She was short a franc and she didn't find it likely her landlord would be pleased. She placed the four francs under her pillow and headed for the door, resolved to go pickpocketing.
It was raining outside and there weren't many people out and about. Still, she felt fairly confident she could manage to steal at least a franc, if not a bit more. She wasn't wrong either; she was doing fairly well and had managed to nick fifteen sous. She was about to steal another six when the man whom she was pickpocketing suddenly grabbed her wrist. He turned and upon seeing her, released her. He was an older man with perfectly white hair. She was surprised to find she recognised him; he was the one they called Monsieur Leblanc. He went to the Luxembourg Gardens daily with the girl they called Mademoiselle Lenoir. At least, these were the nicknames Marius and Courfeyrac had coined for them. That had been a little while ago; Marius hadn't been there in awhile, so neither had Éponine. Still, she recognised the calm, lined face and the white hair. The girl, however, was not with him.
"Sorry," Éponine muttered, though she didn't really mean it. This man's affluence was evident, and Éponine found it hard to ever pity the rich. Much to her surprise, the old man smiled at her. Rather than shouting, he calmly asked,
"How much do you need?"
Éponine blinked. "Sorry?"
"How much do you need, Mademoiselle? I presume you haven't resorted to thievery because of the fun of it. What can I give you?"
"Aren't you going to call for the police?"
The man laughed softly. "No, no. I have more money than I could ever spend. I consider it my duty to help the destitute. Please, what can I give you?"
Éponine merely stared for a moment, not entirely sure that this man could be believed. Then, slowly, she told him: "I only need five more sous to make my rent. I just lost my job and realised I was short on money."
Monsieur Leblanc pulled out a coin purse from the inside pocket of his tailcoat. He looked inside it for a moment and then held it out to her. "There's ten francs in there. I'm sorry it isn't more."
She stared at the coin purse, but didn't take it. "You're not serious." But he gently took her hand and placed the coin purse in it.
"Make sure you buy yourself something to eat," he told her. "And if you're ever in need of more, my daughter and I give soup and shoes to the poor every Sunday outside the Saint-Étienne-du-Mont church."
"I-I... Thank you. I don't know what to—"
"I assure you, it's nothing. I'm glad to be able to help." Then, smiling, he continued on his way and left Éponine standing there, holding the coin purse.
This might have been a change of luck for Éponine, were it not for her next encounter. Walking back to her apartment, she passed through an alleyway. The sun had begun to set and it was dark, otherwise she might have been able to dodge him. As it was, she found herself pinned to the wall by none other than her own father. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.
"What do you want?" She spat.
"What's mine. Yer comin' 'ome."
"No, actually, I'm not."
"Then yeh can give me all the money yeh have. 'And it over."
"Why would I do that?"
Thénardier laughed. "Don't you remember the las' time yeh tried to go against me? This time yeh might not be so lucky. C'mon now."
She spat at him and he punched her in the face. Then he dug his hand into her skirt pocket and grabbed her newly acquired coin purse. He greedily opened it and laughed when he saw the amount inside. "This'll do nicely."
"Give that back!" She made a grab for it, but he pressed his forearm against her throat and she started to choke.
"Yeh may think yeh can do as yeh please, now that yer out. Yer wrong, kid. Yeh'll always belong to me." He released her and she fell to the ground. He left, laughing darkly, and Éponine knew she'd be sleeping on the streets for Christmas.