A/N: A big thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story. I absolutely adore writing this, but I would LOVE to know what you think. Please leave a review, the door is always open.

ooOoo

Blood from a stone, water from wine. Born under an ill-placed sign. A stroke of bad luck, wrong place, wrong time, this flyer is out of line. The story is a sad one, told many times. The story of my life in trying times. Just add water, stir in lime. How the west was won and where it got us.

How The West Was Won (and Where It Got Us)- R.E.M.

ooOoo

Elise awoke to the sound of the birds chirping. With the meager quarters Jean-Marc had provided her with, she had little else with which to occupy herself. Sitting up, she swung her feet over and set them on the floor. Shaking her head, she dressed as quickly as possible, pulling a blouse that had been left to her over her head. While they were certainly better than her tattered skirt and blouse, they were positively ghastly compared to what Beatrice had found for her.

Her head ached just thinking of the Enjolras household and everyone in it.

The dresses Beatrice had loaned her were brilliantly coloured, and bright colours could oftentimes make all the difference. The dress she had in her possession was nothing more than the standard maid's uniform. A think, woolen skirt and white blouse with a plain apron tied around her waist. Jean-Marc had also included a bonnet to cover her hair.

Was having hair pinned back into a bun and on display suddenly a crime? Her hair was curly at best, and stray strands often poked out from under said bonnet, earning giggles and scorn from Jean-Marc's daughters, four-year-old Josephine and three-year-old Juliet.

They were not unruly children by any means, but Elise understood that they were easily bored by having to stay in the house all day. She could not risk stepping foot outside the front door and inviting the possibility of running into Leo once again. No doubt there were be many awkward questions between them, and she could not risk the contact, however remote the possibility of Jean-Marc actually following through on his threat.

Sighing, she pinned the remaining sections of her hair under her bonnet and made her way down to the kitchen. Once there, she greeted the cook and set to helping to make the children's breakfast. Josephine was not one for large quantities of food, preferring toast and jam with a cup of milk, while Juliet had hit a growing phase. Toast and jam with an egg and sliced potatoes were her breakfast of choice, though most of the time half of it ended up on the floor. Still, Elise could not fault her. At three years old, Antonin had had the same appetite, though he'd had to make do with bread and milk and whatever Elise could save to buy him. She and her mother would go days without food so that he could eat, and she had never regretted it, not once.

It still amazed her, however, how close Josephine and Antonin were in age. Antonin had been born in April, while Josephine's birthday was close to Christmas; December 23rd, to be exact. Working backward, that would have meant that Jean-Marc's wife, Lorraine (though Elise had not seen her once which led her to believe the worst), would not have known she was expecting when Elise had given birth. Juliet's birthday, her nieces (it still felt odd knowing that the girls were indeed her blood when she could not tell them so) delighted in telling her, was in October. This meant, according to both Jean-Marc and Josephine, that Juliet was an extremely difficult child.

Truth be told, Elise had no problem with them, despite the fact that they were Jean-Marc's children. Before she had known about them, she had sworn that she would have nothing to do with Jean-Marc and his family, and would feel nothing for them should she ever meet them, but it seemed a moot point and impossible to believe now. The girls had warmed her heart, and truth be told, they needed her, and she them. The children had, (Antonin included, if she were honest), inherited the Pontalier facial structure, though the little girl's had been spared inheriting their father's temper. They each had long, elegant cheekbones and piercing brown eyes. Josephine and Juliet were dark as their father, while Antonin had been fair. Elise had the darker hue in her own hair, therefore Antonin's complexion could only have come from his father, whomever he had been.

The morning passed in relative silence, as it had most mornings since she had arrived. Soon, however, the unmistakable sound of small children waking and unpacking various toys from closets and chests started.

Yes, the children had awoken, and would soon be looking for their breakfast. Elise rolled her eyes, wiped her hands on her apron, and covering the trays containing toast and eggs and other items before heading up the stairs to the nursery.

Stopping outside the door, she pressed an ear to the wood and listened.

"And then the prince rode up to the tower and climbed the princess' hair and saved the princess from the evil dragon!" Josephine was well engrossed in the stories and fairytales that contained princesses and dragons and all other sorts of mythical creatures. Every night she and Juliet begged Elise for stories very similar to the one she was presently acting out. If Elise were truthful, her favourite mythical creature was an honest politician, and she had given up looking for them. Since little children had no knowledge of politics, stories of dragons and princesses would have to do.

Oh yes, Prince Leo, please save me, she thought to herself, suddenly wishing she could disappear, if only for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and pushed open the door with her hip.

"Good morning my darlings!"

The two girls turned their attention toward the sound of activity. Smiling, they dropped the toys and raced toward her.

"Lees!" Josephine, bless her heart, had the most horrendous trouble pronouncing Elise's name. The four-year-old jumped to her feet and wrapped her thin arms around Elise's waist just as she sat the breakfast tray on the table. "We're playing princess!"

"I heard," Elise ruffled the girl's hair before detaching herself. "And Juliet is the dragon, right?"

"Not a dragon!" Juliet protested, tottling over to them, all knees and elbows. "I princess too!"

"Oh, well in that case, I must bow to you," Elise sank into a deep curtsy. "Come on now, my little princesses. It's time for breakfast."

The two girls sat down to their food as Elise set to making their beds and tidying their nursery. At four and three, they were too young to understand the concept of keeping their room tidy all the time, and would need help once in a while to keep things respectable.

"Lees?" Josephine mumbled around a mouthful of toast and jam.

"Josephine, please do not talk with your mouth full," Elise gently admonished, smiling. "Swallow."

The girl did so.

"Much better," Elise answered. "Now, what did you want to ask?"

"We go outside today?"

Elise bit her lip. Of course, she understood that no child wanted to be couped up inside the house all day, but she wasn't sure she could risk any sort of excursion at the moment. Life in Paris was slowly returning to normal, all things considered. Whenever she looked outside, there were more people walking about, the shops were open again, and children were running and playing, getting into trouble as children do…

Oh why not?

"Where do you want to go?" Elise pulled up a chair next to them at their table. It did not matter that the chair itself was so small her knees almost reached under her breasts; anything for a chance to sit down.

"Wanna see the elephump!" Josephine answered, biting into the piece of toast that had made her fingers inevitably sticky.

Elephump?

Oh, she meant elephant! The Elephant of the Bastille! God, what an eyesore! Napoleon had built the thing to be a symbol of prosperity and growth for the people of France, but his defeat at Waterloo had stopped the construction and had left it to decay. No matter who had been in charge of its upkeep, the elephant made of plaster and wood now sat derelict and crumbling, serving as a home for many street children.

"That sounds like a good idea," she grit her teeth, knowing she'd regret it sooner rather than later. Against her better judgment, she'd be taking the two girls outside and explored right near the exact spot where Leo Enjolras and a group of young students had attempted to change the world. The man was stubborn and hot-headed, she knew, but she hoped he would not be so foolish as to risk further exposure so soon after cheating death. "We'll get your coats on after you finish your breakfast, but your Papa needs to know we're going for a walk. We wouldn't want him to worry, would we?"

Josephine shook her head as a plate tipped and banged against the little table.

"Uh oh," Juliet muttered, egg and toast now splattered in her lap. "Lees, uh oh…"

"Oh Juliet," Elise struggled to stifle a laugh as she lifted the three- year- old out of her chair and set her on her feet. "It's alright, dearest, we'll clean you up and then wipe up the spill. No harm done."

Josephine snickered.

"Josephine Pontalier, that's not polite."

"I never spilled," she gloated. "I'm not a baby!"

Juliet burst into tears. "Not a baby! I'm a big girl!"

"Josephine, that's not what we say to someone we love," Elise sat herself down in the floor and pulled Juliet into her lap, mess temporarily forgotten. "It was an accident, and we do not laugh if someone has an accident." She got Juliet to stand up and wiped her face with a cloth she kept in her waistband. "You're both big girls, and sometimes big girls have accidents. Even I've had accidents before. Remember when I tripped and tumbled down the stairs so that my undergarments were in plain sight?"

Both Josephine and Juliet giggled at the memory.

"Yes, that's right, it was funny, and it's okay to giggle at that because my feelings aren't hurt. When you laugh at your sister you hurt her feelings, Josephine, and that's not right."

"But Papa says we can laugh."

Elise grit her teeth.

"Yes, he's right. There is nothing wrong with laughing, but it is good when you laugh with someone and not at them." Getting up off the floor, she took the cloth she had used to wipe Juliet's face and set it on the table. "I need you two to help me clean up the mess and pick up your toys, and then we can go and see the elephant."

"Okay."

It wasn't long before the three of them had gotten everything put to rights and were on their way to the kitchen, where their coats and shoes awaited.

Once dressed in summer coats, they went out the door to the front yard, only to find Jean-Marc pacing.

"And where are you off to?" he asked, keeping his tone as even as possible. Clearly, he had been thinking Elise could use something as simple as a walk as an excuse to see Leo Enjolras again, and the look in his eyes told her she would be foolish to even think of risking it.

Since she had come to work for him, Elise had made a conscious effort to avoid Jean-Marc as much as possible, speaking to him only on matters pertaining to Josephine and Juliet.

"We go for a walk, Papa!" Josephine proudly informed him.

"Oh, well then, mind you keep Elise out of trouble," he chided, feigning interest. He leaned forward, whispered "Remember what I've told you" in Elise's ear and went back to the house.

The three ladies continued on their way through the winding streets toward the parade route that had sparked a revolution. Little legs could only go so far at one time though, and more often than not they were stopping to allow Josephine and Juliet a bit of a rest.

As they did so, Jean-Marc's voice echoed in Elise's ear. Of course, he'd meant that if she had any contact with Leo he'd be dead within a day, but there was no way to predict Leo's movements. How could she stop the man from going outside and living his life when she was not able to get the message to him? And even if she could, what could she possible say? Don't step outside your front door, my brother has a man ready to shoot you? What's more, with the way she had left him, would he believe her?

"Lees, what's that?" Josephine pointed, tugging on her arm and snapping her out of her stupor.

Of course, they'd stumbled upon the Café Musain.

It still sat the way it had been left the day after the battle. The door had been kicked in and splintered, hanging off the hinges, the windows were smashed in and broken, and the staircase was gone, hacked apart and used as part of the barricade. There was no mistaking what had taken place here to those who understood, but a four- year- old had no knowledge of such things.

"It's a café."

"What happened to it? Café's don't look like that."

"It's old and it's falling apart," she answered. Yes, that would do. The simplest explanation is often the right one, especially in such circumstances. "I was here not too long ago, actually. When it was still pretty."

"Will it be fixed?"

"I don't think so," Elise answered. "Sometimes it's better to tear things down and start all over again."

"Oh…"

At that point, Juliet had decided she could no longer walk, and was pawing at Elise's skirt.

Sighing, Elise picked her up and grabbed onto Josephine's hand. "Come on, love, the Elephant isn't too far from here."

Josephine's eyes lit up with the prospect of seeing something so big and unusual. Indeed, how many people would think to build a plaster elephant in front of the Bastille?

"Let's go, Lees! Wanna see the elephump!"

"Okay, dear, don't pull me. We'll be there soon."

Seeing the joy in Josephine's eyes made the trip from the Café to the Elephant seem much shorter than she initially anticipated. There was a small crowd gathered, seemingly listening to the voices that were no longer there. No one stood in front of a General's home and preached about revolution and building a better world, no one climbed onto the top of the Elephant to better project their voice…

Simply put, time seemed to show and stop.

Walking with the two girls, Elise felt the heavy burden of friends and comrades fallen suddenly on her shoulders. There was something powerful about seeing the Elephant again that she had not been prepared for, and, in instinct, she cuddled Juliet close and gripped Josephine's hand.

"Ouch!"

"Oh I'm sorry, sweetheart," Elise released the little girl and set Juliet on the ground, giving her hip a rest.

Relief turned to panic within seconds, as, looking down, Josephine had disappeared.