A/N: The second one-shot. This time it's Feuilly! His character is very interesting to me, so I decided to write about something that needed explaining anyway to better show his character.

And if the ending is confusing, it's supposed to be. It's a scene I don't want to really give away since it's part of the actual storyline.

So anyway, here it is!

Hand of Sorrow

The child without a name grew up to be the hand
To watch you, to shield you, or kill on demand…

The bright sun shone down on the large house on the edge of the city. It was Paris, year 1823, and the mid-June sun had warmed the city in many ways, some of which were not so nice. The tempers and tensions of the people in the city were heightening with the heat, and fights were becoming more common in the main city. But on the outer edge, it was peaceful, almost idyllic. And it was entirely peaceful in the aforementioned house; wherein lived a young boy and his parents. Said boy was currently sitting in one of the trees at the front of his property, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his new housemate. He swung his legs, hazel eyes shining brightly as he stared down the road, his auburn hair blowing across his face. He sighed, and then called down to the chairs under the tree.

"Maman, when is she going to get here? You said she'd be here soon!"

"She'll be along soon, Pierre, just be patient." His mother smiled warmly, and Pierre smiled back.

"I hope so! I've never met her before."

"Yes, I know, Pierre; now, be careful, or you'll fall."

"I will not!" Pierre stuck his tongue out obstinately and went back to swinging his legs. After another minute he suddenly jumped excitedly, almost losing his balance as he pointed and yelled down to his mother. "I see a carriage, Maman! She's here!"

"Be careful, Pierre." She called up; setting aside the needlework she had been working on and gently shaking her husband, who had been snoring quietly. "Wake up, Pascal: she's here."

"Hm? Oh, right." Pascal yawned, stretching. "Come on down, Pierre; we need to get you cleaned up before you meet her."

"But I don't want to: I'm perfectly fine like this!"

"Pierre…"

"Alright, alright…." Pierre swung down easily, causing his mother to gasp. She frowned, scolding.

"Don't do things like that, Pierre, or you'll get hurt. "

Pierre sighed, but nodded as he pouted.

"Oui, Maman."

"Thank you." She smiled, ruffling his hair. "Now let's go have Lucille clean you up so you can meet your cousin."

The choice he'd made, he could not comprehend
His blood a grim secret, they had to command…

"Bonjour, Mlle. Rona."

Pierre couldn't help but stare, peering from behind his mother's skirts. I mean, it was just weird; how could anyone's hair be black AND Orange? He gaped and his mother glanced behind her, glaring lightly.

"Pierre, don't be rude." She smiled up at Rona. "Forgive my son. He's never seen someone so…"

"I don't mind." Rona replied blandly, glancing behind her. "Don't be shy, Deline-sama; come out and meet your cousin."

"…oui…"

Pierre gasped as the young girl tiptoed out from behind her guardian, and his mother gave him a reprimanding glare again.

"Pierre…"

"Sorry…um…" He smiled, stepping out from behind his mother's skirts, bowing timidly. "I'm Pierre Feuilly."

"…Deline. Deline Velvora." She replied faintly. Apparently, I am your cousin."

"Oui." He replied, grinning. "I never knew I had a cousin before."

"Me neither." Deline replied, still not smiling. He cocked his head curiously.

"Are you sad? Why don't you smile?"

"Pierre!" His mother gasped, and then she turned to Rona. "I'm sorry-he's not usually this rude, I swear, he isn't."

"It's fine; I'm sure he meant no harm." Rona smiled kindly at him. "Deline-sama has just been through a very sad experience, Mr. Pierre. It would be kinder if you did not speak of it."

"Oh, I-I'm very sorry." Pierre muttered bashfully, Rona smiled.

"It's alright, Mr. Pierre; you didn't know, it's not your fault. Anyway." She cleared her throat. "Why don't you take Deline-sama for a tour of the property, ok?"

"Oh, eh, sure." Pierre glanced back at his mother and she nodded.

"Yes, why don't you run along, Pierre, chérie; the adults need to talk."

"Oui. Come on, Deline."

"…"
Deline followed him silently, and he didn't speak either until they made it to the backyard. When they got there, he let out a sigh, but there was a large grin on his face.

"So, Deline, huh?"

"Oui."

"Is that all you say? Oh, I mean…" he blushed. "Sorry. I'm not used to being around other kids…."

"Really? Why?" Deline asked timidly, and he shrugged.

"I don't know, actually. Maman and Papa never told me."

"Oh. Wow, I…." Deline just trailed off, and Pierre just laughed.

"It's fine: I find enough to do by myself that I really don't mind." He grinned. "Let's go play in the orchard area; do you like to climb trees?"

"In a dress?" Deline snorted, but for the first time she smiled faintly, and he just laughed.

"Sure, why not? Not that I've ever worn one, you know, but…"

Deline giggled, and then covered her mouth with her hand.

"Sorry…"

"Please, feel free to laugh, I don't mind. It's rather pleasant…ah, I mean, not to sound weird or anything, um…" he blushed. "I'll stop talking."

"Don't. Deline chuckled. "Anyway, how old are you? Rona never told me…"

"Oh, um, twelve: Why do you ask?"

"Oh just wondering. I'm nine, by the way." She replied as he swung up onto the lower branch of a tree, then she added quietly. "Your parents seem nice."

"Yeah, they are, I guess." He shrugged. "They don't listen to anything I say, but that's just how they are. They have to keep up appearances, you know?"

"Yeah, I know….." Deline mumbled, and she had such a sad look on her face that Pierre felt like he had to do something. He held down his hand, smiling.

"Come on; I'll help you up."

"What? No way, I-I can't…" Deline frowned. "I'm a lady, I can't climb trees. Plus, I'm in a dress…"

"Little matter." Pierre grinned. "You know you want to."

"I..." Deline sighed, but he saw the trace of a smile on her lips. "Fine. But your parents and Rona better not see us."

"They won't. Come on, Deline." He grasped her thin hand and tugged her up, causing her to yelp. But when she was settled in on the branch, there was a broad grin on her face.

"Wow, there's a great view from up here…"

"I know, right?" Pierre smiled fondly as he stood, leaning against the trunk. "It's very nice and clear out today; you can see almost the entire city…"

"Yeah…" Deline stared out at the horizon longingly. "It's beautiful…"

Pierre didn't reply, but instead just swung down onto the low wall that bordered the orchard. Deline yelped in alarm.

"Hey, don't leave em here! I can't get down in this darn dress, you meanie."

"Relax, chérie, I'm not going to leave you up there." Pierre laughed. "I'll go back up in a minute."

"Meanie." Deline pouted, and Pierre just grinned incorrigibly in reply. She stared at him, then sighed, dropping her head into her hands.

"Have you ever wondered what would happen if your parents died?"

He's torn between his honor and the true love of his life;
He prayed for both, but was denied…

Pierre froze unexpectedly, spinning on his heel and almost losing his balance. Deline stared at him, surprised at his wide eyes and gaping mouth.

"What did you say? How…" he shook his head. "No. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Pierre?" Deline frowned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you such a question. I didn't know it would upset you."

"I'm not upset!" Pierre snapped, and then covered his mouth. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I-I don't know why I did that…"

"Because there's something bothering you?" Deline asked kindly, and Pierre shook his head, resuming his walk along the wall.

"Nothing's bothering me, Deline. Why should there be? I have a family, I have a nice house…I'm really very well off, if you think about it."

"You're pretty mature for twelve years old." Deline remarked, and Pierre snorted.

"You're younger than me, Deline, yet you act much older; and you speak better." He added, causing Deline to wrinkle her nose.

"I guess so. But only because I studied a lot since I had a lot of extra time on my hands. Besides, I've always been mature: most people who have bad things happen to them are."

"Have you really had such bad things happen to you? Ah, I mean…" Pierre sighed. "I am terribly sorry. I've been very rude to you."

"No, you've been frank, and honest: it's actually quite nice, to have someone who's not afraid to blurt things out to me and make me feel uncomfortable."

"That doesn't sound like a very nice thing." Pierre remarked, and Deline chuckled.

"It is when you've had people stepping on eggshells around you for years. It's nice to have someone new, I guess. And someone my age."

"You haven't had people your age around either?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Not for a couple of years now. My childhood friends were left behind in my old home, when I have been passed amongst relatives. Not that I mind being here." She added hurriedly. "Really, I think it'll be great to be here. You seem like a very interesting kid."

"Er, thanks, I think…" Pierre smiled, and Deline laughed.

"You're Welcome. Now, about what I said be-"

"Pierre! Mlle. Deline! Come back in and get ready for dinner!"

Deline glanced back at the house.

"Who's that?"

"My nurse, Lucille." Pierre grumbled, swinging back onto the tree branch and extending his hand. "Come on, we better go inside: I'll help you down."

"Oh, um, merci, Pierre." Deline smiled, and Pierre smiled back. He was just helping her back to the ground when he heard a tutting from the ground.

"Pierre, good heavens, what on earth are you doing?" Lucille tutted. "The young Mademoiselle should not be climbing trees like this. Come on down, Pierre."

"Oui, Ma'am." He grinned, jumping down right in front of his nurse, and she didn't even flinch.

"Get on inside, Pierre, and get cleaned up for dinner; you can follow me, Mlle. Deline."

Deline nodded, staring at Pierre who just grinned and ran off into the house, Lucille caught her watching and shook her head.

"I just don't get that child. It may be very out of place for me to say so, but I honestly believe there is something wrong with that child."

"Why?" Deline asked quietly, "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing really, but he's just so mature, and he has nightmares, without telling anyone what they are about or why he's having them: He's a very strange and lonely child." Lucille concluded, and then looked down at her charge. "Forgive me; we must be getting along, or the Madame and Monsieur will be kept waiting. Come with me."

Deline just nodded, looking distracted as she thought on what the nurse had said.

Nightmares, huh? Just like…

"Come along, Mlle. Deline."

"Oui." Deline walked swiftly to catch up with Lucille, but her thoughts were far away…


So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed;
Was it worth the ones we loved, and had to leave behind?

Summer passed quickly, and Pierre's parents finally noticed something was wrong with their sun as the season's changed. He became solemn, and often sat in the trees, staring at the leaves, by himself. However, he did take time to play with Deline still, and it was one such day that Deline finally managed to ask him something that had been on her mind.

"Pierre? Why is it you keep staring up at the leaves like that?"

"Hm? Whatever do you mean?" He looked back down at her, but shortly after his gaze drifted back up. Deline sighed, kicking her legs against the low wall she was sitting on top of.

"Like that: your mother and father have begun to notice as well. And I think I know what it is that's bothering you." She added coolly, and Pierre looked over, his cocked eyebrow showing his clear skepticism.

"Is that so? And, pray tell, what is it that's wrong with me?"

"You have dreams, am I right? Visions."

Pierre froze, then burst out laughing, but Deline was rewarded with the fact that it seemed nervous, strained.

"That's just crazy, Deline: it's impossible. You know things like that don't exist."

"Oh, don't they?" Deline retorted, and Pierre nodded, smiling.

"Of course they don't: and besides, even if such crazy things managed to exist, why on earth would I be having these, ah, 'visions'? It's just crazy."

"You're nervousness simply proves my point." Deline replied, gesturing airily. "And you're obsession with the changing of the seasons. Normally people don't stare at the changing leaves with such a frightened expression on their face."

"What makes you think I look frightened?" Pierre snapped irritably, and Deline just grinned in triumph.

"Don't hide it, Pierre: I understand, I can help you with this…"

"You can't help me." He replied angrily, "What do you know, huh?"

"More than you, obviously. And if you must know, I went through the same thing, Pierre: I know what is happening to you. And I can help you through it."

"No you can't" he muttered. "Besides, you're just a kid."

"And what does that make you?" she retorted, "Just because you're three years older doesn't mean anything: I've seen things that would make you run crying for your mother, and would give you worse nightmares for years to come. You don't want to mess with me, Pierre Feuilly. Now, tell me what the hell you've been seeing."

"No." He replied, switching back to his cool, calm personality in light of her explosion. "There's nothing I have seen. You are assuming things, Deline."

"I am not!" She snapped. "And you're just going to cause more trouble if you don't tell anyone, Pierre! Trust me, I know!"

"Really?" was all he replied, and Deline was about to yell back when Pierre's mother called from the path.

"Children, what on earth are you yelling about?"

"Nothing, Maman." Pierre replied calmly. "Just playing, you know; kid stuff."

"Sounded like the two of you were arguing." She replied, gazing at him skeptically, and then Deline, who just shook her head.

"It's nothing, Ma'am. We were just playing around, as he said. Really, it was nothing."

Mme. Feuilly gazed her son, then her niece, and finally sighed.

"Really, Pierre, what's gotten into you these days? It's like…like you're a completely different child. Where's the happy little Pierre I once knew?"

"I'm happy, Maman." Pierre told her, and indeed, his expression would have shown such to one who did not know him. But to his mother, it was only an admission of his uncharacteristic behavior. She sighed again.

"Chérie, why won't you just tell us what's wrong? Did something happen to you?"

"Non, Maman." Pierre replied, sounding bored, but neither female was buying into it. "And I wish you would all stop pestering me about it."

"I worry, Pierre." His mother said. "You always look so upset and tired these days. Have you been sleeping well? Maybe we should call in a doctor-"

"I'm sleeping fine, Maman." Pierre replied, beginning to sound irritable now. "Really, there's absolutely nothing wrong with me, so please stop asking me about it."

"Alright…" Mme. Feuilly sighed wearily. "Since when were you so rude, Pierre? You were never like this before."

"There's nothing wrong with me." Pierre snapped, finally letting his irritation show, but he quickly backed down. "You needn't worry, Maman. I will try to refrain from such rudeness in the future: I don't know what got into me today."

"That's the problem." Mme. Feuilly muttered, but she just sighed, shaking her head. "But if you insist you are fine…anyway, you two should get cleaned up: one of the neighboring families is coming over to dinner tonight."

"Really?" Pierre perked up instantaneously, and his mother nodded.

"Yes. Now go get cleaned up, chéries."

"Oui!" both young children chorused, and they ran towards the house. Mme. Feuilly stared after them, the smile sliding off her face. She was starting to get concerned about her son's change of demeanor, and his attitude towards her questioning only heightened her concern. She sighed deeply once more, saying quietly to herself.

"I'm sure it's simply a phase he is going through. Yes, that's it: a phase, nothing more…."

So many years have passed, who are the noble and the wise?
Will all our sins be justified?

"Maman, must you go out tonight?"

Mme. Feuilly looked down at her young son, buttoning the buttons of her coat. She raised her eyebrows, but just smiled.

"Pierre, your Papa and I have been planning to go to this party for at least a month now. You know this."

"Oui, mais…" He stared at the ground, twitching nervously. "Maman…I just…I feel like…."

"Pierre, is there some reason you don't want your father and I to go out tonight?"

The curse of his powers tormented his life;
Obeying the crown was a sinister price…

"Of…of course not, Maman." Pierre laughed nervously, finally looking up. "It's just that….I really feel like…."

"Pierre, chérie, if you aren't going to give me a reason, your father and I are going to leave very shortly. What is it you need?"

"I…." he just froze up, unable to get out the words he really wanted, needed, to say to her: To get her to stay home, to not go out that night. But she just sighed, shaking her head.

"You'll be just fine staying here with Lucille: you have done this several times before, Pierre. I don't know what it is that has you so upset, but…just give us this one night, chérie. Then I'll spend as much time as you wish with you."

"But what if…what if you…" Pierre shut his eyes in frustration, trying to just spit out what was on his mind, but he couldn't, and no matter how hard he tried the words just wouldn't come out. His mother just tied on her hat, shaking her head sadly.

"I'm sorry, Pierre, but your father and I really must be going-Pascal, chérie, are you ready?"

"Oui." Pierre's father stood, smiling as he hooked his elbow with his wife. He smiled down at his son. "We'll be back before you know it, Pierre. Adieu!"

"Mam-"

"Adieu, Pierre. See you later." His mother just waved as his father led her out of the house and down the path to the awaiting carriage. Pierre just stood staring, unable to look away, until a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What is it you see?"

He jumped, turning to see Deline standing at the bottom of the staircase, her arms folded across her chest, a knowing expression on her face. He opened and closed his mouth, but only one word came out.

"Non."

And then he fled, following the carriage that was already rounding the bend. Deline just stared after him, shaking her head.

"It's too late, Pierre Feuilly. Too late…"

His soul was tortured by love and by pain
He surely would flee, but the oath made him stay…

"Maman! Papa! Wait, please! Please, come back!"

He's torn between his honor and the true love of his life
He prayed for both but was denied…

He tore after the carriage, which moved much faster than his legs could carry him, but he ran after it regardless. Try as he might, he could not stop the tears that began to track down his cheeks, and it only made it harder to run. He sobbed, cursing himself.

"Why, why didn't I tell them? Why…please, wait up…"

He ran and ran, but slowly his strides shrunk and his breathing grew ragged, forcing him to slow. He stared at the carriage that drove slowly out of sight, and he just collapsed to the ground, curling into himself.

"It's all my fault…it's going to happen, and it's all my fault…Maman…Papa…."

So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed
Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?

"Mlle. Deline, where is Pierre?"

Lucille entered the guest room, and Deline turned to look at her, surprised to see the sad look on her face and the traces of tears in her eyes. She got down from the window seat where she had been sitting, waiting for her cousin's return.

"What happened, Mlle. Lucille?"

"I…your aunt and uncle…they got into an accident…"

"What?" Deline gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Mon dieu….how did this happen?"

"I do not know the details…" Lucille replied, her voice wavering as tears streamed down her cheeks. "They just sent a policeman to inform me. But where did Pierre go?"

"He…he ran off." Deline just shook her head, dazed, and muttered to herself. "So that's what he saw…mon dieu….Oh Pierre…."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Deline replied, looking back up at Lucille. "Should I go out and find him?

"Heave's, no…I'll send for a policeman."

"What will happen to us now?" Deline asked quietly, and Lucille just stared down at her sadly.

"Your grandmother has been contacted. She is too ill to keep you two, but she'll take you for at least a little while they find another place to put you." Lucille frowned deeply, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. "it is so sudden. How aful, two such nice, kind people…"

Deline just nodded, turning back to stare out the window, her thoughts on her lost cousin.

So many years have passed, who are the noble and the wise?
Will all our sins be justified?

HE couldn't go back. Not to his empty home, where there was nothing left for him. Not after what had happened. After what he'd done…Pierre sobbed as he headed towards the center of Paris. Hr clutched his thin coat, shivering in the autumn chill. Suddenly a voice said from a nearby alleyway.

"Kid. Hey, kid."

He looked up, wincing in the light from the street lamp. A man stood in the shadows of the alley, but even in the shadow, Pierre could see the rags he wore and the few missing teeth from the man's smile. He shivered.

"What?"

""what' he says." The man snorted, stepping out into the light. Pierre took an automatic step back and the man laughed.

"What's a rich twerp like you doing out all alone, eh? Where are your parents?"

Pierre's lip quivered at the mention, and this only caused the man to laugh loudly.

"Aw, did I frighten you? Well, just come with me, kid, and we'll get you something…"

"N-no!" Pierre stepped back, so scared that the tears starting streaming from his eyes again. THE man just advanced more, grinning wickedly, but was stopped right before he reached Pierre by a man who stepped between them. The man in rags snorted.

"What do you think you're doing, student? This ain't none of your business."

"You were going to harm this young boy." The student just said, adjusting his spectacles calmly. "I suggest you go before I am forced to call the police."

"Why you-"

"Off with you!" The student commanded, and to Pierre's surprise the ragged man actually left, glaring contemptuously at the young boy before heading back into the alley. The young student waited until he was out of sight before turning and smiling at Pierre.

"Hello there, young man: are you all right? Oh, dear, your face is a mess: here, let's clean you up."

The student smiled warmly, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping at Pierre's tearstained face. Pierre was too exhausted to stop him, but he didn't say anything. The student frowned, and then asked quietly.

"What happened, Monsieur…"

"…Pierre…." Pierre replied hesitantly, and then he added quietly. "I can't say. That is…I…."

"It's alright: you needn't tell me if you don't wish." The young student smiled. "MY name is Combeferre. Etienne Combeferre."

"Nice t-to meet you…" Pierre yawned, but then tried to repress it at the student's raised eyebrow. "I'm not tired. And I'm not alone. I'm-I'm just going home…I…"

"Really." Combeferre looked at him suspiciously. "You know, you could come over to my place while we contact your parents. I have a friend of mine who lives with me already that you could talk to if you wanted, he's just a few years older than you, I would think-"

"No!" Pierre backed away. "No, thank you, really, I-I can,…by myself...um, bye!" he turned and fled. "Thank you..."

"Wait!" Combeferre called, but Pierre didn't listen, tears running down his face as he ran alone into the dark depths of the city…

Please forgive me for the sorrow, for leaving you in fear;
For the dreams we had to silence, that's all they'll ever be….

Almost ten years later, Pierre (now simply Feuilly) sat in his dark hotel room. It was four in the morning, but he could not sleep, nor did he plan to.

"Not if I have to see that again…" he shuddered as he spoke to himself. "When it's not visions these days its nightmares. I don't need that, especially not today…" he sighed, staring at the small calendar he had posted on the wall. It was September 18th, a day he could never forget, no matter how much he tried to persuade himself he had…

"Maman…Papa…"

He shut his eyes, willing himself not to cry, but he could only remember that night, and those dreams, those dreams…they'd never go away, no matter how many years went by, no matter how he presented himself to others. Sure, he seemed like an idiot who never remembered anything, but it was necessary. No one else needed to remember what he remembered, what he'd seen…it wasn't their burden to bear. Not Kira, not Combeferre, not anybody…he rubbed the tears from his eyes, but they just kept on coming. He scolded himself in his mind.

You idiot…ten years, and you still can't stop crying…what would Papa say?

Of course, this didn't help. He knew it wouldn't: it only would make him cry more.

The least I can do is save them….to make up fro my past mistakes, I must save the….

Still I'll be the hand that saves you,
Though you'll not see that it is me…

He stood up, grabbing his coat and scrubbing the last of the tears from his eyes as he headed out the door, ready. Ready for what he had to do, to repent, to make it up to his parents, in their memories…he ran in the dawn, hoping he wouldn't be too late to stop it…

Not this time…Not this time…

He ran once again through darkened streets, but now his eyes were dry, and they glittered not with tears but with determination, and strength.

Maman…Papa…now it's my time…my turn to be strong…

He stared into the darkness, no longer afraid, and swore to himself.

"I will save you."

So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed
Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?
So many years have passed, who are the noble and the wise?
Will all our sins be justified?