A/N: I'm so sorry for not updating but school got in the way of writing. But now that I'm on winter break my hope is to actually complete this story. But thank you to everyone for your kind comments and encouraging words and for sticking through this story. You don't know how much I appreciate and love you all for it! Enjoy!

Eponine had returned home early from pick pocketing. She hadn't much to show for her work either, a couples sous and a single franc. She slouched on the sofa after having left the coins on the dining room table and felt at the scarf about her neck, smiling as she did. She didn't care much for roses but Enjolras had bought for her and so she loved it. She loved the smell it bore, a mixture of his scent and hers. It was her early Christmas present. At the thought her stomach flipped and her eyes widened, and she immediately stood from the sofa. Today was Christmas Eve, and she had completely forgotten. She went into her room and rummaged through it in search of money, cut into her skirt to take from it the money she had stashed within. Surely with that it would be enough to buy Enjolras a decent gift. She smiled at the thought, surprising him on Christmas day with a gift of her own.

Eponine then went back to the dining room to retrieve the coins she had left there but they weren't there. Had she missed placed them? She frowned at the empty spot on table and scanned her eyes across the floor for any sight of them. A small breeze came from the front door. It was open. She knew she had closed it. Moments later she could hear the sound of coins jingling. Footsteps came from the kitchen. Heavy boots clomped against the floor as the intruder walked out of the kitchen, tossing her stolen change in his hand as if he had made his claim to it.

The man smiled. "Hello Eponine."

Her stomach dropped entirely and she felt her nerves tingle and her face go cold. She hid the anger but could not retract her surprise. "Montparnasse."

He approached her slowly from the other side of the dining room, tossed the change up a few times and taught them before stuffing them into his pocket. Eponine glared at him for taking the money she had worked hours to get.

"How did you find me?" She asked as she stood stock still.

"Who's to say we ever lost you?" Montparnasse said with a discomforting smirk and despite his calmness Eponine could see a subtle rage in the blue of his eyes that she remembered far too well.

"If so why wait to come out of the shadows so long?" Eponine retorted.

His eyes flashed with mischief, always one to play games. The years haven't changed him much. "Your father has missed you."

"He has Azelma for company."

Montparnasse began looking around the home, his hands pulled back his tattered long coat to rest them on his hips, giving Eponine full view of his knife. She eyed it, a million thoughts running through her mind as to what he was doing and what he wanted but she understood his threat. He would do her harm if she suddenly became brave. Or foolish. His back was to her now and she shot daggers in the back of his skull.

"He's spoiled you." He said.

Eponine could feel him sneer even with his back turned to her. Her jaw clenched, and she bristled.

Montparnasse turned to her, "This man, this revolutionary, has turned Eponine Thenardier soft." He approached her, his silky voice no less menacing as his brows furrowed. Jealousy possibly, but no small amount of anger. That much was clear. "But you and I both know, dear Eponine, that you nothing more than ugly tart."

Her hands curled into fists but the thought of his knife stayed her hand. He was an arm's length from her now.

"He's more man than you ever were." Eponine growled as her heart thudded against her chest. "And you're nothing more than a rat."

At this his eyes darkened. The world seemed to slow and Eponine could not react fast enough. Montparnasse slammed her face first into the nearest wall and gripped her arm and forced it up behind her back as he held his knife to her throat. Sharp pain shot through her arm as he forced her arm higher behind her. She shut her eyes and yelled, unable to take back her arm.

Montparnasse's breath ghosted across her ear. His breath smelled of rot and she tried not to breathe it in.

"Your father has found him. He shovels snow for a construction site. Thenardier watches that revolutionary as we speak. And if you do not cooperate we will go together to your father to watch that scum die." He pulled higher still on her arm and the knife dig into the skin above her the vein.

"No, no!" Eponine blurted out as the pain intensified. "I will go, I will do whatever you want! Just don't hurt him. Montparnasse, please!"

He did not say a word nor did he relinquish his hold on her. Her heart pounded and she her jaw tightened and body tensed with panic. Don't hurt him. Harm me if you must but not him! Then Montparnasse tugged up and her shoulder cracked as the bone popped from its socket. Eponine screamed and he let her arm drop to grab fistfuls of hair at her scalp and smashed her head against the wall.

Dark spots dotted her vision and she could no longer scream as she slid down the wall fighting for consciousness. Her body slumped on the floor and the black spots spread until nothing more could be seen.

Enjolras was relieved to be allowed to go home early. Any other day he would dismiss the idea because it would hurt his pay. But the evening of Christmas Eve was drawing nearer and he was more than happy to leave, and with his week's pay in hand he headed for home. He never particularly cared too much for the holiday season—years before he spent it tucked in his flat constructing a revolution in his mind—but this year there was a distinct reason as to the tiny smile on his face and swell of joy that Christmas brought. He had Eponine to share it with instead of only books and battle plans.

By the time he spotted the house it was dusk and the snow was just beginning to pick up again. He held back a shiver as the wind blew and frowned as if Mother Nature had played a cruel trick. But as he drew closer to the house he could see that the door was open. Why would Eponine do such a silly thing?

When he entered the house his mouth opened in quiet shock. Papers were scattered, plates broken, books spread, and the sofa upturned with the cushions thrown, and even a smashed dining chair— its legs snapped, sharp where the wood split and the back support almost disconnected from the rest of it.

But the blood on the wall and floor was what horrified Enjolras. The blood blotted at the top and streaked its way downward before abruptly stopping. A small pool of it was strewn across the floor.

His mouth was dry and he found it suddenly difficult to breathe. Eponine. Where is Eponine? That blood cannot be hers. She is not dead. But if not dead then where is she? His mind began to race, and he scraped his hands through his hair, clenching his jaw tight. He could nearly hear his own heart beat. His eyes stung wet and his throat was arid but he gulped anyway to swallow the wetness in his eyes. He found his breath and breathed as evenly, gaining control of his mind, his self. He could not go mad, not yet. Enjolras must find her first. He refused to lose her like he lost Patria and his friends. You're all I have left.

He searched the house, called her name, but there was no sign of her. So he went into his room and found where he had hid Marius' present. He took the pistol from the box, loaded it, and stuffed it in the rim of his pants, concealing it by his jacket. He lit his lantern and went out into the dusk as the snow fall grew heavier. He gritted his teeth against the snow, spitting curses to the merciless world, vowing for vengeance. He knew where to go. And when he found the bastard Enjolras would not hesitate. He will not wait. Murder in Rennes and snow will be red.