Hello, my lovelies! As a reward for the positive feedback from the last chapter, here is another chapter! This marks a new point in the story and I sure hope you enjoy it!

The first thing that Enjolras noticed when he walked in the door of his apartment later in the afternoon was his red jacket, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor of the kitchen. His eyebrows raised. "Eponine?" he asked, confused. There was only silence. He picked up his red coat and put it on. He noticed the beautiful smell coming from it, a mix of lavender, vanilla, and something else that was distinctly Eponine.

"Eponine?" he asked again, walking into the kitchen. The books Eponine had given him for Christmas were still scattered on the table, as well as the Les Miserables tickets, but The Republic was not in the corner where he had thrown it. He was beginning to get worried now. "Eponine? 'Ponine, are you here? Eps?"

He ran through the apartment, only to find nothing. All her clothes were still in the closet. She must have run an errand…

Suddenly, something he had said came back to his mind. Earlier, he had shouted: "NEVER DO I WANT TO SEE THIS BOOK AGAIN, AND NEVER DO I WANT TO SEE YOU!"

Oh dear god, what have I done?

The very girl in question was slowly walking down the streets of Paris, away from Enjolras's apartment, his beloved copy of The Republic cradled in her arms like a child. She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to get away. He never wanted to see her again.

Oh the irony. When I gave Marius my heart, he broke it and Enjolras put it back together. When I gave him my heart, he broke it only because I tried to fix him like he had fixed me. No, he didn't break it. He stabbed it with a knife and watched it shatter into a thousand pieces that can never be put back together, just from one sentence. 16 words, one sentence was all it took for me to be on my own yet again.

She walked down the street, shivering. Her black leather boots were covered with powdery snow and she had no coat. Luckily, she did have the sense to put on a sweatshirt and hat that morning, but she missed the familiar warmth of the red jacket.

She ended up by the Bastille, staring at the July Tower. A tear slipped down her cheek as she remembered the day she'd run away from the party. When Marius had ignored her and Enjolras had been her gallant savior, all she could think of was: One day he'll leave you behind just as your beloved Marius has done." She had put the thought out of her mind, because after all, he was Enjolras. He would never do such a thing. But he just had, and that little voice in Eponine's head was whispering that she should have listened, should have paid attention.

Suddenly, she heard a voice cry out: "Ponine!" She whirled around to see the small figure of Azelma, a freshman at a different school, standing with her foster parents. She ran up and gave her sister a hug. "How are you, 'Zelma?" she asked fondly. "Oh, I'm great!" she replied enthusiastically. "These foster people you set me up with are really amazing!" She ran back and gave her foster parents a hug. They smiled.

How nice… Everybody looks happy. Well lah-di-da for them.

Eponine was so lost in her thoughts that she missed Azelma's question. "Huh?" she asked. "And how are you doing, 'Ponine?" she repeated. Eponine sighed. "Today was the worst Christmas of my life. No, I didn't get forgotten. It was much worse." Eponine began to unravel her tale, starting from the day she had first talked to Enjolras in September to Christmas Day. Azelma's eyes filled with pity. "You could come… come and live with us for a little bit. Couldn't she?" Azelma was almost pleading to her foster parents and they smiled. "Well, we were thinking about having another foster child. You'd have to go to a different school."

Eponine readily agreed. Anything was better then Enjolras and Musain High. "Well, we can go home whenever you're ready. Do you have any clothes?"

Eponine sighed again. "I do, but they're at Enjolras's house, and I'm not going back there for the life of me."

"What did he say to you?" asked Azelma. "He said…" Eponine trailed off. "He said that he never wanted to see that book again, and that he never wanted to see me. So I left."

"Well, I think that boy is going to regret what he did because it sounds like he really cares about you." said Azelma's foster-mom.

Eponine snorted. "Please. Enjolras caring is an oxymoron."

They all got in a car and drove through the streets of Paris, winding in and about until they stopped in front of a large house. "I have a lot of clothes." chattered Azelma as they walked inside. "You can have some of mine. I wonder how we're going to register you for school. You can have a different room."

Eponine wasn't listening to her sister at all, her mind was wandering back to other things. She stared down at the well-worn book in her arms and opened it. Inside the cover, in small, neat writing, read: Gregory R. Enjolras.

She smiled a small, sad, smile as she closed the book. They walked inside the huge house. She heard Azelma's foster parents saying something about "Follow me to your room," so Eponine trailed behind the woman, up some stairs and down a hall, to a large room. "I'm Mrs. Balaster,m" she said kindly. "We love your sister and we're glad you're staying with us for a bit. We'll get you registered in the new school. You went to Musain High, right?"

Eponine nodded and Mrs. Balaster handed her a notebook and pen. "If anybody needs a diary, it's you." Then, she closed the door and left Eponine alone to her thoughts. She stared around the room. It was large, the bed looked cozy, and there was a window seat. Eponine went and sat down in the window seat, getting out the notebook. She opened it to the first page and wrote:

December 25

Dear Diary,

There are so many things that need saying, questions that need answering. Where do I start?

I met Enjolras last year. Granted, I didn't talk to him much, I was just there for Marius, after all. In September, (I don't remember the date) Marius broke my heart with that pretty blonde Cossette, and Enjolras found me. He offered a place at his home for one night, and we became friends, sort of.

After that night, we started hanging out at school more, and one day when I ignored him, he went to find me and met my father. That didn't end well… Then he found me in the grocery store and bought me some raspberries. Then, I got lonely and came back to his house. He agreed to let me live with him.

When we went to Grantaire's party, I saw a side of him that I had never seen, a wonderful, completely Enjolras side that he tries so hard to hide. I decided I would fix him like he had fixed me. I went and bought his revolutionary books back from Goodwill and gave them to him for Christmas. That was when he got made and told me he never wanted to see me again. So here I am.

If I wrote a letter to him, the greeting, customarily, would be Dear Enjolras, or Dearest Enjolras, or maybe even Dear Gregory. But he's not dear to me at all anymore. People have said that he has feelings, that he cares. So why doesn't he care about me?

My mind is so confused, so full of jumbles and tangles of thoughts I would rather just forget about forever. Why doesn't he care? Why doesn't anybody care?

This brings me back to that night when my Marius met Cossette. I asked myself why no one cared then either. But Enjolras was there. I thought he cared. Now that he doesn't care, I have no one. And that's the hardest thing, I think, for me.

So Enjolras, if you ever read this, I guess my question to you would be… why?

"Oh dear god, what have I done? We have to find her!" The marble man was freaking out. He buried his fingers in his blonde locks. "Calm down, calm down," said Combeferre. "She'll come back."

At that comment, there came a loud burst of drunken laughter from Grantaire. "You think she'll come back after that? Enjy, you screwed up, bad. You just told her that you never want to see her again! Why would she want to come back after that?"

Enjolras brushed off Grantaire's slightly disturbing comment to listen to some positive feedback from Courfeyrac. But none of them except the drunkard himself knew that Grantaire was the only one right.

I know this chapter may seem a bit odd, but hang on, we're getting there. Also, if anybody wants a suggestion for a great Eppy-Enjy fic for an afternoon of reading, I suggest Our Little Lives by Concetta. That girl really does have a gift…

Anyway, bear with me, my lovely readers! I don't plan to end this any time soon, so don't worry! Bye for now, and I'll see you later!