Chapter 2: Saving His Life

As the rain pattered on Emelia's rooftop, she couldn't shake the feeling that something awful was happening. She already put Emily to bed, so she could go out and investigate if she so pleased even though Nana would probably object. Taking quick glances around the quiet house, Emelia grabbed her cloak and threw it over herself, so she wouldn't get wet from the rain. Quietly, she opened the door and stepped out into the rainy night. The rain was falling too fast and too much that it concerned her.

Oh, I hope people can find someplace dry to stay, she thought as she ran down the cobblestone path of the village. I haven't seen it come down this hard since the Feast of Fools some years ago. It was true because the last time she saw it rain that hard was at the Festival and they had to cancel midway due to rising water.

Emelia ran through the alleyways and found herself in front of Notre Dame. She chastised herself for thinking something horrible would happen, but she couldn't shake the feeling of dread around her chest. Squinting through the rain, Emelia saw a prone figure lying near some garbage and she scurried through the rain to see who it was. As she got down on her knees, she saw that it was the gypsy from before, the one that Emily liked, and he had bloody wounds on his arms, legs, and stomach.

Swallowing back bile, Emelia carefully wrapped her arms around Clopin's injured middle and slowly heaved him to his feet. As she steadied Clopin with one arm, she took off her already-soaked cloak and wrapped it around him, so he could stay a little dry and keep his wounds covered. Emelia placed one of Clopin's arms over her shoulders, kept a supportive hold on his torso, and struggled as she made her way back home. What did this guy eat? He weighed a freaking ton! If carrying him wasn't hard enough, the rain kept pouring down on them, not letting up the least bit. Hopefully they wouldn't wind up in bed because of illness.

"Nearly there…" she breathed as they approached the porch of her house.

Heaving him up the two front steps, Emelia flung the front door open and sloshed in, feeling as though she took a swim in an ocean. Of course, Nana happened to be standing there and she let out a gasp when she saw both Emelia and Clopin wet and chilly. Instead of grumbling like she did whenever Emelia brought injured strangers home, Nana grabbed Clopin from her charge and pulled him into the downstairs guestroom that had always been unused. It was going to be for another baby but since Emelia's husband died there were no babies in the near future.

"Miss," whispered Nana as she dried Clopin off as best she could, "where did you find this creature?"

Emelia shrugged slightly and replied, "I don't know, Nana, but I had a feeling something bad was going to happen and it did. Are you sure he'll be okay?" It wasn't that Emelia had feelings for Clopin but she remained concerned because she did not want to attend another funeral.

The elderly lady looked at the younger woman gently and said, "He'll be just fine, Emelia. You got him here just in time. You need to go rest, dearest. You've been through enough today. I'll sit here in case he wakes up."

Emelia held no argument because she was tired, so she headed to the door and exited to go to bed.

…

"Wake up, Miss," whispered Nana's gentle voice as Emelia felt herself being shaken awake.

Emelia opened her eyes and gazed at the elderly lady with expectancy. "Did he survive through the night?" she asked anxiously, grabbing one of Nana's veiny hands in hers.

Nana nodded with a smile and her dark eyes sparkled. "Yes," she answered. "He's not strong enough to move around yet because of his wounds. Where in the holy Mother Maria's name did he get those wounds? They were everywhere—on his back, legs, arms, and stomach. I wonder if he got into a tavern fight."

"What makes you think that?" asked Emelia, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well," said Nana quietly in a hesitant, "he seems like one of those types who likes to get intoxicated in bars. I do not have prejudice towards gypsies, but I have bumped into a few in my past and they were always somehow drunk around me." Nana's aged brow crinkled as she sank into a thinking mode.

"Did he say anything?" asked Emelia calmly. "When he woke up, did he say anything?"

The elderly lady bit her bottom lip and nodded slowly, thinking back. "He mumbled a few things in gibberish but he mentioned you and Emily, saying that he had to protect you two. I tried to question him about it, but he fell asleep, and he's been that way for nine hours now."

Emelia threw back the sheets and stood out of bed to get changed into a dress for the day. After running a brush through her hair, she pulled it back into a bun and slid on one of her peasant gowns, so she could start her chores of the day. Finally, after applying some light perfume, Emelia walked out of her room and into the kitchen to start breakfast.

As she made some eggs and bacon, she wondered if her guest would want any food even though he was still sleeping. She slid some bacon and eggs onto a china plate and walked over to Clopin's makeshift room. When she opened the door, she saw Clopin lying in bed awake, but he looked tired. He looked over to her, nodded at her casually, and continued staring at the ceiling with curio. Quietly she left the plate for him on his bedside table and walked out to leave him alone for a while.

"So, how is he?" asked Nana's husband Andrew, who was now in his mid-sixties and just as silver-haired as his wife. "Nana told me that we had a guest, so I had to be curious and check about it."

"He's awake," answered Emelia quietly, "but he doesn't seem quite happy." She recalled back to his grave expression with a heavy heart.

"Well," said Andrew, "you know gypsies are like birds. They can't be in a cage for too long. This Clopin fellow probably wants to be free but he can't go because he needs to heal."

"Try telling that to him," joked Emelia as she walked back into her small kitchen.

…

A little later, Emelia decided to visit Clopin and see if he was all right but when she opened the door she saw him out of bed and putting his tunic on. Unbeknownst to him, Emelia saw the horrible purple and black wounds that decorated his tanned skin and had to swallow back bile to continue looking. He turned back and looked at her with a bemused look on his face.

"Did you help me out, madam?" he asked, straightening his tunic out.

She nodded as she replied, "Yeah, but Nana cleaned your wounds. What happened out there?" She gave Clopin a curious look.

"I ran into some trouble," he answered, his brow crinkling as he thought back. "Some of Frollo's lackeys. They're not particular fans of me or my people."

Emelia nodded, understanding, but how many of those lackeys beat Clopin because he was pretty banged up. What about his people? Weren't they worrying about him? Instead of asking these questions, Emelia moved towards the empty table tray and grabbed the plate that had no food on it. He must have devoured it while she was leaving him alone but that was good because he needed food to help heal.

"So," she said with a wry smile, "why were out there last night?"

Clopin sat down on the bed, staring at the woman curiously. She didn't miss a thing, did she? "Well," he answered, "I had to go in place of a young one who aggravated Frollo." A dark look crossed over Clopin's face when he thought back to seeing that child look so terrified.

Emelia sighed and closed her eyes. "Look," she said gently, trying to sound conciliatory, "I know my uncle isn't that good to you, but he would never hurt a child."

Clopin's dark eyes connected to hers in a flurry and fury burned in his torso. "Are you telling me that Frollo is your uncle?" he demanded through gritted teeth, his fury catching her off-guard.

"Yes," answered Emelia firmly with another nod. "He is a good man once you get to know him. If you gave him a chance—" She was broken off by Clopin giving a derisive snort.

"I would never want to get to know that man," he stated darkly. "He is evil and cruel. He picks on gypsies just because he thinks we're heathens. I've got something to tell you, Emelia Allen, we gypsies are not heathens and we don't deserve to get killed or worse because of him!"

Emelia felt torn; she wanted to believe her uncle was a good man but Clopin had said such horrible things about him that sounded true. Why would he say such things? Automatically, she shook her head in disbelief because she didn't want to believe her uncle was a bad man. Sure, he was a little cold-hearted but deep down inside he was nice. He was the man who provided for her after her husband died.

"I don't believe you," she said coldly, feeling her balance give away. "I can't…" She sat on the bed, feeling totally lost and confused.

When she looked at Clopin, she saw him trembling with fury and long-suppressed grief and, before she could fight him, he grabbed her by the shoulders tightly and slammed her to the wall painfully. She could feel the strength of his hands digging into her bones and did her best not to cry out. Tears of anger swam in his dark eyes as he pressed his strong body into her small, slight one, making her wince in pain. He had her trapped.

"He took away the only woman I ever loved, Emelia," he growled brokenly, grinding his teeth as he tightened his grip on her shoulders even more. "We both got tortured for helping out some gypsy children but after what he did to her…she took her own life." Tears rolled down Clopin's cheeks as he talked about his past lover, but Emelia didn't want to believe it. He couldn't be telling the truth. He just couldn't.

"You're lying," she whimpered in outrage as tears rolled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes to keep more tears from spilling forth.

"Look into my eyes, Emelia," hissed Clopin in a chilly tone that she felt in the base of her spine, causing the woman to open her eyes. "Do these look like the eyes of a liar?" His tone sounded so harsh and domineering that it made her look into his eyes.

As soon as she did, she saw pain and anger in those dark eyes but also truth. He was telling her the truth about her uncle when it came to gypsies and it made her cry even more. Why did her uncle have to be so cruel to gypsies? More importantly, why did it have to be this gypsy to tell her about her uncle's darker side? She wished she could wipe her mind clean, but she couldn't.

"I'm so sorry, Clopin," she wept, feeling defeated, as she bowed her head, so she didn't have to look in his eyes anymore. "Truly I am." She didn't know what else to say.

"Don't pity me, woman," he retorted almost laughingly, "but hate me for the person I am." He sounded much too sincere for her liking.

Emelia closed her eyes again in sadness and defeat, wishing to disappear right there on the spot. Finally, she felt Clopin release her and back away from her to sit down on his bed but her shocked condition finally overcame her and she fell on her knees, her hands trembling. She looked up to see Clopin staring at her in concern, but she managed to stand to her feet and shakily walk to the door.

"I have to go," she whispered in anguish, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry." With that, she walked out the door and shut it behind her, leaving the man who was both her patient and enemy.

…

Once she walked up to her room, she fell on her bed and began weeping in anguish, wishing she didn't hear what she heard. She did like Clopin because he was kind to her daughter, but how could he say such cruel things about her uncle? She knew it had to be true. Otherwise, Clopin wouldn't have cried the way he did. In her heart of hearts, she knew it was true, but she loved her uncle too much. He was the one who was there for her when no one else in her family was.

The tears streaked her face and her lower lip trembled. "Oh, Luke…" she cried out her dead husband's name as if trying to speak to him in heaven, "what do I do?"

Receiving no answer, she bowed her head and prayed for the answer and the hope to be strong.

A/N: Yes, Emelia is a bit of a defensive and naive woman, but wouldn't it be horrible if someone said such bad things about your family? Anyway, this is where she starts to see that Clopin is right about her uncle and later she'll confront him about it. Read and review!