The first fanfic I uploaded! So please no flames. I hope it isn't too bad. It probably would be eventual HugoXIsabelle.

Genre: Drama/Friendship/Family/Future Comedy/Romance

Disclaimers: I don't Hugo. All rights belong to the rightful owners. And this is a called a FANFICTION, so of course i don't anything in Hugo

January, 22, 1938

Hugo wasn't known for many words. Too many he was a mysterious somber figure, who would only speak when it was necessary. His whole presence had radiated seriousness. Maybe it was his outfit or the way he carried himself. It was true that he had worn conservatively and he certainly carried himself with a sense of responsibility and dignity. He surely had his ideals that he strictly went by. But by all means he wasn't a gloomy man. Needless to say he was a very cheerful lad. To the children of Paris he was nice man, who would always show magic and tell jokes on his way home. Who would on occasions get gifts and prizes for kids who figured out his tricks. But today there was no magic or jokes. Today there was songs or laughter that would follow him. Today he was indeed a dark and gloomy man

Papa George had passed away. He hand hastily finished his work and had left work when he had heard the news (which was far earlier than usual). It pained him that he wasn't there when it happened. Mama Jeane and Isabelle would of needed the most comfort they could get. But he wasn't sure how much help he could provide them. He wasn't very experienced with comforting. He was usually the one who was comforted. They were there whenever he would get depressed. When he would think about his father. So he needed to be there for them.

The air in the house was thick and heavy with grief when Hugo walked in. No one had noticed him coming in, even if they had, they didn't acknowledge it. He could hear muffled sobbing in the living room as he hung up his jacket. He silently stood there listening as he composed himself. He would have broken down and cried himself, but he couldn't, he wouldn't. He had to be strong. He needed to be strong...for them. He took a deep breath and made his way towards the living room.

Hugo had expected far less people to be present in the room, but he wasn't surprised. Over the years they had grown close many people. Especially with Lissette and station inspector Gustave. It was unexpected to him. It never occurred to him before that the station inspector was a good man. He always thought that he was a sadistic man who enjoyed catching orphans. He frowned as he surveyed the room again. There were a lot people but it wasn't the amount people that bothered him. It was an absence of one.

"Hugo?"

Hugo napped out from his daze and looked up. Madame Jeane was sobbing but her hands ushered Hugo over. "Yes, Madame?" Hugo replied softly.

"Isabelle, she...she," Madame Jeane tried to stifle a sob but failed as she broke down.

Hugo scowled. Isabelle wasn't very experienced with these things and people who were inexperienced might turn out do something unpredictable. After he lost his father, he had a sudden obsession with machines and more notably an automaton. Which was a healthy distraction if it weren't for his other habit of stealing the parts. But he didn't know what Isabelle would turn out to do. If it came to the worst case, Papa George wouldn't be the only one gone. He quickly looked back at Madame Jeane and patiently waited for her to continue.

"She...left" Madame had managed to say before she broke down again.

Hugo's scowl deepened, but he quickly composed himself and turned around to leave. Madame Jeane looked like she wanted to say more, but that was all the information he needed. There was only one place she would be if she had left. The clock tower. It was actually his sanctuary, his retreat. But soon after he was taken into Papa George's care, Isabelle would also go there to get away from reality or just to watch the streets of Paris and let off steam. But if Isabelle had went there with any dangerous intent, then he needed to get there quickly before she did something irreversible.

Isabelle gloomy walked through the streets of Paris. If it were any other day, people would wave, children would trail behind her and even sometimes a dashing young man would try to strike up a conversation with her. This would usually brighten up the foulest of her mood. But today, no amount of a child's laughter, or the gentle greetings of people or even the handsomest man could cheer her up. Nobody tried to anyway. They all steered clear of her. Even the baker lady who would always give her leftover bread to her whenever she passed by, only gave her a sympathetic gaze. It was truly a dark hour for Isabelle.

It really shouldn't have come as a surprise. His health was already declining anyway. It was only a matter of time before it happened. Before he passed away. Papa George was dead, there was no nice way of saying this for her. He was gone. She believed that he was gonna get better. That he was gonna get off his bed and start tinkering with toys again, like all the times before. But deep down inside she knew. She knew that he wouldn't make it this time. She remembered the first time he had grown ill, Mama Jeane was so worried. Isabelle was never more scared in her life. But he soon shook off the sickness and started to work at his shop again.

"Isabelle!"

Isabelle looked up at the call of her name. She looked around and found the station inspector making his way towards her. She tried to put on her best smile and look alright. She tried not to look like she was so distressed that the station inspector had to check up on her, but her tear streaked face had made it unconvincing. "Good afternoon, monsieur Daste" Isabelle replied when he had arrived in front of her.

"It certainly is a good evening for many. But I am assuming it cannot be the case for you," the station inspector answered with a soft smile.

Isabelle didn't answer. She just silently nodded at his assumption.

"How is Lissete?" Inspector Gustave asked in an attempt to start a conversation.

"She is...managing," she answered withe her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn't sure if she was okay, but the last time she checked was when she was crying in her living room with Mama Jeane.

"That's good. I hope your managing too," Gustave said carefully.

Isabelle stiffened. She didn't want to continue this conversation for much longer especially if it headed towards her and her managing skills. "Yes, I am trying," she replied kindly as she can, but with scowl on her face, she doubted that it would of came of nice.

Gustave noticed her scowl and attempted to start a more casual conversation, "What might you be doing here all alone? And where is-"

"I must be on my way monsieur Daste. Good afternoon," she interrupted. She had leave. She knew it was rude and that he was only trying to help her, but right now she need some time be alone. She was gonna break down and she did not want anybody seeing her when she did. She turned to leave, but Gustave had made a flimsy attempt to stop her by grabbing her shoulder and saying something about not grieving alone. But she easily broke from his grab and left without as much of a glance.

I made Hugo call Mama Jeane as Madame, I don't know why but I always thought he would call her like that.