"Léo! Léocadie!"

Évangéline huffed and lowered her arms, not pleased. Who would be when their younger sister was nowhere to be found?

She'd been gone since that morning. Évangéline had gone through the house to wake her siblings, as per usual, when she realized the little troublemaker was nowhere to be found. Then, as if that hadn't been bad enough, Annette remarked that their sister had probably gone back to hang out with the newsies. It pained Evangeline to admit she was probably right. Where else would she be?

Since then, she'd been out looking. The newsies had said that they hadn't seen her, although there was so many of them that she could've ran off with one of the guys, without thinking of telling them. Comforting, right? Dipper had immediately dropped everything to help her once she found out what had happened, which Évangéline found nice of her.

At present, they were attempting to multitask — sell some papers while simultaneously keeping an eye out for her sister. They hadn't had much luck yet, but there was little they could do other than wait. It was like fishing: if you got impatient, you would likely leave with nothing more than what you came with. Évangéline hadn't the slightest idea where Léo could be, and they'd already checked all the other places Dipper thought might have attracted the young girl.

"It's funny," Évangéline admitted after some time. "I didn't plan on coming back after yesterday."

Dipper looked at her. Somehow she'd winded up carrying Madeleine in her arms. "What happened yesterday?"

She shrugged. "Someone got mouthy with my sisters, and I freaked out. Scared off more than just the guy."

It took Dipper a moment to remember. "Oh, right. You have a sword."

Évangéline scuffed her foot against the ground. "It was my father's."

"What happened to him?"

She sighed. "I think there was someone after him. They blamed it on a fishing accident."

"Was it The Unknowns?" asked Dipper with a note of fear in her voice.

She was confused as to why she sounded so terrified, until it came back to her. That conversation between the three of them the other day, the knowledge that Dipper's father was currently missing. "No idea. They took your family, right? Why didn't they take you, too?"

She shrugged but considered the question, even as Évangéline began regretting being so forward. "Dunno. Maybe it's jus 'cause I wasn't dere when dey took 'em."

Évangéline nodded. After a moment, something came to her. This was her chance. "The Unknowns took stuff, right?"

"Yeah." The girl nodded. "Hid 'em, too. Like we was sayin' tha oth-ah day."

"And when you guys snuck out and brought some of the stuff back with you..." Évangéline paused. "You didn't see a sword, did you?"

"No," replied Dipper. Évangéline wasn't sure whether she considered that a good or bad thing. "Ise guessin' dat sword belongs ta you, too?"

"It was my papa's prized possession," Évangéline murmured, hardly noticing the way she'd slipped back into her native language. "I think he came back to get it, and they had him killed."

"Oh." Dipper was silent for a moment. "Did you say you were Acadian?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's jus..." She bit her lip, adjusting Madeleine in her arms. "My faddah used ta live around 'em. Dey helped my parents."

"You're Mi'kmaw," remarked Évangéline, having known that the Mi'kmaq tribe and the Acadians had once been close.

She nodded. "He once told me tha reason he loved music so much was 'cause 'a tha Acadians."

"Music is a big part of our culture," she agreed. "Wait... yer faddah's Trek, right??"

"Yeah."

"He sent a letter to my mother."

Dipper stopped walking. "Ya think dey knew each other back den?"

Évangéline shrugged, before resuming their previous pace. "S'not so far fetched."

"What's it like?"

"What's what like?"

Dipper seemed embarrassed. "Wit tha Acadians."

"Oh." She took a moment to think. "It's very... cultural. Like you guys, I guess. We're known for our music, and our food. We hang on to everything we can. After the expulsion, you just never know."

"What was dat again?"

Évangéline glanced at her. "We were deported for not partaking in the war between the English and French. We wanted to stay neutral. There weren't many of us who survived — most died on the ships. The only reason some of us got away was the Mi'kmaq people. My ancestors did, thankfully. They would've had to have been in hiding for at least eight years, but you guys did everything you could to help."

She was silent for a moment. "Do you know if dat worked? If my people 'n yers were able ta help each other?"

Évangéline shrugged. "I think so. I don't know how it was between the Acadians and the Mi'kmaq people afterwards. I just know we had one common enemy — The English." That got a snort of laughter. "We're on good terms now, mostly. Not at the time, though. But that's beside the point. I just know you guys helped us when you could've left us for dead."

Dipper nodded, taking this in. After some time, she met her gaze. "We should head back ta tha lodge. Maybe yer sister's back by now."

Évangéline looked down at her sack. "You're done selling?"

"Not yet." With a hand, she pulled out a few papers. "But I've still got some time."

And so they returned to the newsie's lodging house, where there was still no sign of Léo. She promised herself she would wait no longer than half an hour before heading back out to search for her sister. Thankfully for them all, she soon learned that that wouldn't be necessary.

"Oh, wolves' teeth," sighed Évangéline in relief, placing a hand against her chest. So she wouldn't be killed for losing her sister. Not today, at least. Then she noticed the young boy trailing after her. Oh, but he might.

She felt like an idiot, watching the young boy, Les, go up to his brother. Why hadn't she thought of him? And where had Davey been earlier? She was sure he'd been gone that morning. Well, no matter. She had more important things to adress.

"Léocadie Orianne," Évangéline snapped after she'd hugged her tightly, pointing a finger at the girl as her mother would. "Je t'ai dit de ne pas aller si loin. Over and over again, I've told you. And what do you do?"

Léocadie didn't respond, looking away guiltily.

"What's the matt-ah?" Davey questioned, sharing glances with his own brother. "She was just hanging out with my brother. He's her age."

Evangeline clenched her jaw, staring him down. "I'm her guardian. You really think it'd be fine to not let me know where she was? How do you think I would know if she got hurt? My sister has asthma, David! She could've died, and I would've had no idea!"

"Angèle, t'a promis!" Léocadie cried, pulling away. Evangeline knew she was speaking French purposely. You promised. "T'avais dit que t'allait pas dire à personne, pis là tu tourne de bord et leur dis quand même?"

You said that you wouldn't tell anyone, and then you turn around and tell them anyway?

She then turned around, beginning to run before Évangéline had the chance to protest. It wasn't long before the young girl's steps faltered, and she crashed to the ground in tears.

Évangéline sighed and crouched down before her younger sister, wiping her tears and cupping her face in her hands. "Deep breath in, deep breath out. Ça va, ça va, I've got you."

Léocadie's shallow breaths eventually evened out, and Évangéline allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She leaned her head against Léo's, thinking about just how close they could've come to having lost it all. How close she'd come to losing her whole life, her love.

Her sister.

"Promets-moi," she whispered at last, "promise me you will never do that again."

Léocadie sniffled, holding on tight to her sister's neck. "I promise."

Later that night, Évangéline stood in front of the fireplace, poking at the wood inside to fan the flames. She worked quickly, wanting to heat up the small house as soon as possible. But there was also a bit more force than was needed as she attempted to take out her frustrations on the fire.

How could she? How could she? That question had replayed in her mind all day after the incident with her sister. How could she have let herself come so close to losing her parents' — and her own — pride and joy? Her mother hadn't even been gone for a week, and she'd already slipped more times than she cared to admit. She had people counting on her, her mother, her sisters, even the newsies, in a strange way... she didn't know why her family had been sent over from a message from Trek, but it was her responsibility to find out.

Her mother was out there somewhere, searching for the last piece they had of her father. She was venturing out into the unknown — quite literally — with no fear evident in her posture. Her mother, who had looked fatality in the eyes and laughed. That was who she was supposed to live up to. And her father, her dear papa, who'd lost his life to a war of which he hadn't even known of. Who'd sailed seas in the face of danger, just so he could feed his family. Who, even more than that, had travelled to New York City to help people who'd rejected his kindness, time and time again.

She'd let them down. She'd let them down so heavily, there was no coming back from it. She was nothing like her parents, who were gentle, kind, and determined. No, she was abrasive. She was rude. Every part of her was sharp, and she had no idea how to let people in. She had trust issues, and a short temper, and all that together... She was surely nothing if not a failure.

A spark jumped out of her as she jammed the poker into the pit, crying out as it burned. She finally fell to the ground with an angry sob, bowing her head as tears dripped off her chin and into her lap.

Too busy nursing her cheek, she didn't notice at first when Léocadie came up to her until she felt the arms wrapping around her neck. Little Madeleine was next, sticking like a leech to her side, until Annette came to complete the embrace. She tried in vain to quiet her sobs, but it seemed her sisters understood.

They spoke not a word, but somehow, it was as if they knew that their mere presence was enough.

Elmer couldn't sleep.

He couldn't place it, but something on his mind was keeping him awake. No matter how many times he twisted and turned, sleep never came.

He sighed and flopped onto his back, staring up at the bunk above him. It was because of that letter, wasn't it? The letter that had informed him of a fake brother that was out for him. But even as he nodded at the idea, he knew it simply wasn't true.

No, it was Evangeline. She was the reason he was awake.

She had come in at the oddest of times. It seemed that even she didn't have a clue as to why she was there. And that stunt with the sword she had pulled the day before...

She'd come to the lodge, apparently. Something to do with her younger sister running off with Les. Elmer had been selling at the time, and had only learned the information from Henry. It seemed like they'd just missed each other.

As much as he attempted to repress it, he couldn't help but feel curious about her. It was clear she had no idea what she was doing there, either, much like himself and all of the other newsies. He'd been intrigued the moment she'd first shown her face. Even watching her leave the theatre the day before, he wasn't able to take his eyes off her.

And if she was somehow a part of The Unknowns?

Before he'd even registered what he was doing, he'd thrown on a coat — it wasn't even his, but everyone was asleep, anyway — quietly sneaking out the front door. He glanced back to make sure he hadn't woken up anyone, but quickly continued along to avoid making more sound than was needed. And, perhaps, to evade the notion of having second thoughts and turning back around.

If she was planning anything, it would be at night.

He trekked back to the dock, almost certain that would be where he'd find her. Sure enough, there she was. He hesitated for a moment before joining her. "Is tha wat-ah dat interestin'?"

She didn't seem startled by his appearance. Which, he considered, was most likely a good thing. He had no intention of being on the other end of that sword. "It's not. That's why I like it." She turned to him. "Gives me more room to think."

He glanced at her. "Why aren't'cha sleepin'?"

"Why aren't you?"

He sighed. "'Cause I had a feelin' you wasn't, either."

She hummed. "I never fall asleep before twelve."

"What's so important 'bout twelve?"

She jutted her chin towards something behind them. "Church bells ring. It's like the world finally lets me sleep." She was silent for a moment, lips tilted up in a wry smile. "You want me to explain myself, don't you? About the sword?"

Elmer was quiet. He didn't want to admit she was right. Was he really that predictable?

She sighed. "My father had a theory of the men in this world. He'd watched the way people viewed him as an Acadian. There were some who welcomed him with open arms, who asked about his family, his life. Then there were others, who despised the very sight of him. These people, he figured, were higher up in life, most likely part of the upper class. Where riches and nobility were poured upon them."

She paused. "He would say the French were by no means inferior. That Acadians didn't need money, or nobility in order to be heroic. Acadians... we are noble in our feelings. We value bravery and loyalty and family, and he seemed to think that that was enough. He often said we should be proud of our values, of who we are."

"Would ya agree wit dat?"

She gazed at him and smiled. "My father was a wise man. If he'd told me to run into a burning house, I would. For him, I would. So... yes. I agree. I guess it's why I didn't hesitate before showing that man my father's sword. I wanted to show him that we still have a place in this world."

"Hm." He wasn't quite sure what to say.

"For what it's worth," said Évangéline, "I think all you boys are noble, too. You're a lot like us. It's something the people of the upper class could never understand."

Elmer scooted closer to her. "So den why has it taken you so long ta trust us?"

"For one thing," she said, scooting away, "you haven't exactly given me a reason to. And..." she hesitated. "Maybe it's because my father isn't here to tell me who to trust anymore."

Elmer sighed. "It must be hard right now, wit him havin' jus passed."

"I have no one but my mother," she said softly. "She's miserable without my father. Je suis son seul soutien."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm her only support." She sighed. "Theirs, too."

"Yer sisters?"

She nodded. Then, as bells rang in the distance, she glanced up. "That's my cue."

"It's already dat late?" He glanced up. "Wow. Guess it's mine, too."

He didn't know if he'd gotten what he'd come for, but he left satisfied.

(2660 words)

~ nutcracker645