Author's Notes: Thank you to my Beta, Evenflo78.

~o~

Paris, France 1899

High atop butte Montmartre, numerous artists lived cheaply among the marginal buildings, steep pathways, bals populaires and singing cafes.

Many women would meet their loves on Sundays and patron Le Moulin De La Galette or L'Elysèe-Montmartre, while other young aspiring actresses would dance the cancan at the Le Moulin Rouge.

Bella thought of these women, as she sat impatiently within the horse drawn carriage, the smell of the evening and its festivities wafting through the Parisian air. "Monsieur! Monsieur!" She yelled out, as she waved her hand towards the black gates. The coachman pulled up on his reins, as he nodded a show of his understanding.

Easing steadily onto avenue Frochot, the coachman rang for the concierge to open the gates. Within moments they began to move once again, painstakingly slow as the carriage noisily crept over the aged cobblestone slope to the house at the very end, number 15.

Bella marveled at her new abode. "Oh, dear god. It is marvelous," she whispered to herself.

Bella had thought of this day, the day where she would follow her dream of dancing at the infamous Le Moulin Rouge. Funny, for such a young girl to desire such a trade, but Bella knew better. Born of a beauty that easily rivaled her mother, she was nothing short of magnificent.

Though some would say that beauty is a blessing, for the young Parisian-beauty had been her curse. Long after her father Charles had passed away, Bella's mother would entertain; her small apartment always consumed by countless men.

Bella had learned to tolerate these rendezvous, but not without interest from every suitor who came to visit her mother. Bella, you are so beautiful. You could be an actress. You must not waste your valuable gift. Each time, their words meant to encourage, their eyes deceitful and sinful.

For the young girl, it was a sign. Longing to free herself from the confides of her eccentric mother, she found herself desperate for a means to escape. And in her secret dreams, the answer lay in her allure. She would become an actress, a dancer, or maybe even both. She would captivate audiences with her glamour and she would find a rich suitor that would yearn for her heart. She would give that man a trophy, her body for his pleasures, and in turn, she would be financially secure. In her mind, it all made sense.

"Madame, you only have one suitcase?" The concierge asked.

"My arrangement need not concern you. Might you point me in the direction to my apartment and hand me my keys?" Bella stated with authority. For she knew with any man, that a young woman with little possession, might be construed as a young woman eager to earn quick money.

"Yes, yes. This way," replied the concierge but not without a quick glance of the beauty that stood before him.

There in front of Bella, was a large home that had been converted to a few apartments-three to be exact, with the concierge living in the fourth smaller room at the end of the hallway on the second floor. Two keys were handed to Bella-one for the first door that opened the grand manor, and the second, a key to her small room. Bella held onto those keys tight, for they were more than merely objects of old iron. They were symbolic of her freedom from her drunken mother-or as Bella liked to describe her youth, Renée règne de la terreur, Renee's reign of terror.

The concierge placed Bella's worn and torn baggage near the door to her new home. He gave a quick bow and repeatedly informed her that he was available at all hours of the night, should she be in need of assistance-or in his mind, company.

Bella smiled half-heartedly and then turned her back on the concierge. She was no fool to such behavior and quickly put the concierge and his rude behavior out of her mind. She did not want anyone to spoil such an occasion.

Upon opening the door, Bella whispered, la révolution a commencé.

As a child, she would pretend that she was a commoner and subjected to the ridiculous whims of a tyrannical Queen. It was this fantasy that helped her cope with her mother's mood swings and often violent episodes, when a relationship that her mother had counted on, quickly dissolved to nothing. These escapades would often leave them penniless and poor at times, but only to have Renee find a new suitor, and once again indulge in splurges and extravagant shopping trips.

She often wondered if Renee would have ever sold her for a simple hat in a window.

When she opened her bag to remove the few dresses that she owned, there came a knock upon her door.

Startled by the noise, Bella thought of the concierge and what she would say to make him go away.

Without even asking who it was, she opened the door to reveal a small and disproportionate man.

"Bonjour! May I offer you a housewarming drink?" The man said with a strong lisp.

Oh dear, thought Bella. Where did this strange man come from?

"I'm sorry, but do I know you? Do you live in the room next door?" she asked.

"Oh heavens no, I live in the room below. It is my studio as well. Come, let me in. I bring gifts of green glory, plus, I am in pain from walking the steps up here. The least you could do is entertain me."

How repulsive, Bella thought. Here was this dwarf of some sort, carrying a bottle of some spirit and he was literally demanding to be let in. Yet, the more she stared at the man, the more she saw innocence in his large brown eyes. Or was it despair? Bella decided that she would like to know this man and invited him in.

"I'm sorry. I just moved in. I do not even know what is in the apartment. I may not have proper glasses." Bella said embarrassingly.

"Proper glasses? This is Paris, my love!" yelled the man, and out from his coat pockets he pulled two small shot glasses. "We drink!"

The two sat at a very old table, each side adorned with a different style of chair and again Bella found herself apologetic. "I'm sorry. We have not been formally introduced, I am Bella," she said while extending her hand.

"And I, Henri," the man said, as he took Bella's hand and placed a kiss upon the top. In one split second, he became mesmerized by the soft veins under her skin but quickly let go of her hand as not to be too inappropriate.

The man poured two glasses full, while Bella's eyes grew wide. She had never consumed alcohol before and became concerned, as thoughts of her mother began to surface.

Henri sensing Bella's apprehension remained still. "Do you not like Absinthe?"

"No, it's not that. I just... it reminds me of my mother."

"Ah," Henri sighed. "Mothers, they are a necessary evil, are they not?" he said aloud.

Born of an aristocratic family, Henri was quiet familiar with the reprimands of an over bearing mother. In fact, she was so prim and proper that she refused to visit him simply because of the areas notorious patrons. This would cause Henri, with his difficulties in walking, to have to come to her in order to see the family. He often despised her for this, for she took no pity in his predicament.

"Oh Henri, I am sure that your mother is nothing like my mother. Maybe one day I will tell you about her." Bella said softly and then without any further hesitation, she threw back the drink but quickly soured at the taste.

A moment of silence seemed to pass between the two, before Henri offered up his reply.

"But I suffer just the same Bella, just the same." Henri retaliated, his brown eyes searching while he looked at his shot glass. With a quick tip, he too finished his drink. "Another!" he yelled, pouring the herbal elixir once more to the rim of each glass.

Slowly, but surely, the two within minutes had consumed three shots each. For Henri, this was a mere teaser of his adventures to come. For Bella, a full plate of what it was to be inebriated. Allowing the effects of the green glory to consume her, Bella asked for a fourth shot. Amazed at her tenacity, Henri obliged her request.

"So what brings a beautiful girl like you to such an area?"

"Le Moulin Rouge." Bella quickly spoke up. "And freedom."

Henri nodded, understanding the latter of her response, for he too sought asylum in the Montmartre quarter from a family that could never understand why he wanted to be a painter.

"I patron Le Moulin Rouge quite often-I am an artist and find pleasure in sketching the dancers. Would you like to come with me tonight? I could introduce you to the bar owner."

Bella's eyes were glassy and her vision blurred, but she stood up and threw her arms around Henri, thanking him profusely for the invitation. "You have just made me the happiest girl!"

Henri accepted Bella as she fell across the table, landing firmly upon him, while trying to hug him. He could not help but feel sorry for her. In his mind, his thoughts of the lonely women that worked the bars began to appear and he did not want to think of this young woman as one of them. His simple words had caused so much joy in her and yet, he felt doomed for uttering them to begin with. What has he done, he thought to himself.

~o~

After rouging her cheeks and applying a deep red color to her lips, Bella locked up her new home and ran down the stairs to meet Henri at his apartment. The effects of the spirit were now fully consuming her but she felt glorious and giddy, a feeling that she had not felt in a long time.

"Heeellloo. Monsieur. I'm waaaiiting for my date!" she yelled from the other side of the wood paneled door.

Within moments, Henri opened, assaulting Bella with the strong smells of turpentine and linseed oil. She covered her nose with the back of her hand. "Oh, my heavens. You are a painter. Your studio is horrid."

Henri laughed as he reached for his cane. "Well Bella, maybe one day you will allow me to paint you in this horrid apartment."

Bella, feeling no pain, quickly put both her hands on her hips and scowled at her new friend. "Henri! You just want to see me nude!"

Henri began coughing now, as his laugh became more problematic. "Oh, Bella. Your are full of life. Come, let's go! Off to Le Moulin Rouge!" he said, as he pointed his cane in the direction of the gates.

With the assistance of gravity, the two stumbled forward and made good time down the driveway. Once they were out of the gate, Bella stopped to smell the air.

"Henri, can you smell that? It's all around us."

Henri did not know what it was that Bella smelled, but he did catch a whiff of urine near one of the exterior bushes.

The two joined arm and arm began strolling towards their destination. As they passed each business or bar, Henri would give Bella the whole background on the building. He even thought to include any gossip that he had heard and this pleased Bella, as she loved to hear the wild tales of a city full of aspiration.

When they came upon Moulin's entrance, Bella became nervous as she peered at the large red windmill atop of its structure-a half crescent moon adorning the windmill. "Wait!" she yelled. "What if they don't like me? What if they don't need me?"

Henri looked up at Bella, and with the only words he could think of, gave his honest opinion. "How could anyone not adore you? They would be a fool to let you slip by. Come, tonight you are a patron and my guest. But pace yourself my dear, there are many people I want you to meet." And with that, he grabbed Bella's left hand and coaxed her through the front doors.

Bella glanced up at the fascia while being pulled by Henri, "it's beautiful," she whispered.

Once inside, she took in the aromas of the evening. The smell of cigarette smoke... the smell of arousal. Her head was spinning and she could not think if it was from the alcohol or the excitement but the music felt like it was getting louder in Bella's ears.

"Henri! I think I'm drunk!" she said, carefully leaning into his side.

Once again, he began to laugh and shook his head at her comment. "Not drunk enough if you notice." With the wave of his hand, a waitress came up to him and immediately handed him two tall and lean glasses filled with a pink and bubbly drink.

"Le meilleur champagne! They save it for me since I paint their advertisements," Henri said, while handing her one of the glasses.

Sipping it slowly, Bella's eyes began to close. "Mmm. That is pure heaven."

Henri became a little bewitched by her virtue. One day, he thought-her beauty would be immortalized forever on canvas.

When Bella opened her eyes, she noticed the crowd and the tables seemed to be arranged in a circular manner, all facing the wooden platform and stage towards the front. Henri began walking, and Bella timidly followed.

Off to the right side, there was an empty table. It was always reserved for Henri. The two sat down and were immediately assisted by another waitress; again the glasses of champagne were placed in front of them. Bella thought she could easily get used to this treatment but alas, she remembered that by the end of the week she would most likely be one of the women bringing people like Henri, his drink. She sighed as she began to sip her second glass of champagne.

Suddenly there was a loud yell from one of the patrons off in the distance and then as if the band was not loud enough, they began to play even harder, a tune with vitality and vigor. The women poured from the back, and the bar nearly tripled in sized in that one moment. There were yells from all corners of the building and men were being pulled to the dance floor by the dozens.

Bella began to clap her hands profusely, for she understood, it had begun.

In front of her on the stained age oak wood floors, were women with loose flowing gowns. They howled, as they swirled around their multiple partners and there seemed to be an overwhelming feel of excitement about the dance. Bella could practically taste it in her mouth and she wanted nothing more than to be on that dance floor with all the patrons.

"Let's dance Henri!" she yelled, as she stood up and began to move. Whether it was the music, or the consumption of alcohol, Bella didn't care-she allowed it to push her enthusiasm to its limits.

Henri, not one for dancing, beckoned for her to go without him. He gestured for her to leave and whistled loudly, once she did. He was both proud to be seen with her and somewhere deep inside, cautious to protect her. But she wanted this more than anything, and Henri could sense that from the moment he met her-determined and stubborn, he thought to himself. Yet, he wanted her to a part of the chaos, to feel it, to be inspired by it.

Henri cheered her on, as Bella found herself kicking and yelling upon the floor. She stayed somewhat close to his corner but through her wild moves, gravitated closer and closer towards the middle, till alas, she collided into someone's back.

Down, the drunk girl fell.

"Madame," the young man said, as he reached over to help Bella up.

Laughing, she paid no mind to the man's hand extended in front of her. Instead, she propped herself up with her two hands and jumped back on her feet, as if nothing happened.

The young man, who was flanked by two beautiful dancers, made a facial expression of surprise by her action. It was so... unladylike. And the fact that she did not even apologize for hitting him, further fueled his impression of the drunken girl.

Still, he stood waiting.

Bella, who had spun around to wave at Henri to let him know that she was okay, began to dance once more till she came around and noticed the young man standing by her with an insincere look upon his face.

"How rude, you are ruining the effects of the champagne. How did my mother's boyfriends put it? You are dulling the high," Bella said, as she leaned into the young man.

Completely taken by her words, he grabbed her by the arm and marched her over towards Henri's table. "Henri, your guest needs to sleep. I'm afraid she's had too much. Take her home," he ordered.

"Never," Bella said, as she finally pulled her arm out of his grips. Then turning towards the young man, she slapped him with all her might.

Henri cringed at the sound of her palm, hitting Mr. Cullen's cheek. Standing, he apologized to him on her behalf.

"But I'm not sorry!" she yelled.

"Bella, this is Edward Cullen. A very... successful... writer. He is spending the year here in Paris and will be writing several plays for the Moulin to put on." There was a hint of plea, within Henri's voice and Bella, being very astute, understood what he was trying to say to her.

With her head down, she took her seat. She did not want to say she was sorry, but she did not want to slap Mr. Cullen again in her state of being.

Not quite satisfied with the situation, Edward walked over to Bella and crouched down near her knees. "And you are?" he asked, while lifting her chin up with his hand.

"An acquaintance to you," Bella said, as she looked Edward directly in his eyes. There was something about him that made Bella's blood boil. Maybe it was his forwardness, or maybe it was that he refused to allow Bella to get away with her bad temper, but either way, she found herself disliking him.

But Edward did not move and would not, until he she answered. For Edward, there was something irritating with this petulant woman. On the outside, she was strikingly beautiful, Edward thought. But on the inside, he found her foul-mouthed and cantankerous.

Bella did not turn away and lost herself deep in his aqua blue eyes, and there the two remained-locked in a deadly stare down of sorts. Henri, completely appalled by this display of behavior, began coughing as a means to interrupt the two. But it did not work.

Until finally Bella stood up and pushed past Edward, almost knocking the young man back on to his bottom.

"Come on Henri, introduce me to the bar owner. We'll leave Mr. Cullen to sit and brood at our table," Bella said, placing emphasis on the word brood by gesturing her hands as if she was a witch.

Edward, in no mood for her continual rudeness, rose to meet Bella's glare. "So you want to meet the bar owner? Why? So you can dance here? I'll see to it that you don't get hired." And with that he turned and walked back into the crowd of patrons on the floor.

It took everything in Bella, to literally not stomp her feet in anger. She wanted to strike at someone but instead clinched her fist. She was livid that such a man could sum up her integrity by a few mischievous moves. He didn't know what she had to suffer through as a child. He didn't understand her motives to be here. The only thing that Bella could do was turn and run for the entrance, the tears springing from her eyes.

"How dare he," she muttered as she ran past the crowd. And out the front door, she stood drenched in misery. She never wanted to let a man push her around, as they did so often to her mother. She promised herself she would always stand up for herself, yet in this world, she knew she would always succumb.

Defeated, she began to walk-aimlessly and recklessly. She cursed at anyone that glanced her way and kicked at the trash that lay upon the dirty sidewalk, until she reached a corner.

There, she stood in a haze. She looked all around her and withdrew to her inner child. "Which way to go? Which way to go? If I walk up hill, it may lead me to an enchanted castle. If I go back downhill, I'll be right back at the cave where the dragon lays," she mumbled. Staring in the direction of her home, she chose the enchanted castle, until... she heard someone calling her name.

Turning, she gasped.

Coming up to meet her was the dragon himself. She froze in fear, for now she did not have the protection of Henri at her side. What if he yells at her? She began to weigh out her options.

The memory of a night that her mother had slapped her then-ill tempered boyfriend came rushing forth.

Bella began to get scared and was just about to run, when she was once again within the grips of Edward's hands.

Bella thought to herself, the dragon will sear me-I am doomed.

~o~

Author's Notes: Please forgive me, if anything is amiss. I do not mean to be historically accurate but I do know what it's like to be drunk... So! We drink! I mean, please leave me a comment. I would love to you know what you think about it so far.