Jehan's POV:

A splitting headache was not the only ache I had. The bitter taste in the back of my throat coupled with my dry mouth made for a miserable morning. I mumbled to myself when I realized I had slept on the sidewalk…again.

Stupid whore. I never should have trusted her. The few coins I had left were nowhere on my person. And I couldn't even remember if I'd enjoyed myself…

Cursing, I struggled to my feet. Money…where could I get money…

There was work, but that was too much…well, work. Hmm…my insufferable brother…how long had it been since I'd seen him? More importantly, would he want to help me out?

I glanced over at the cathedral. It seemed an awfully long walk, but it couldn't be any worse than the bleeding headache I had. I was gathering up what was left of my strength when I noticed a man and a woman talking to an old beggar woman. She gestured towards me.

What in the…?

I couldn't decide if they looked like trouble or not. I lost my chance to walk away; they started towards me.

"Are you Jehan Frollo?" the woman asked.

"For you, sweetheart, I could be anybody," I purred.

She seemed a little taken aback by my words.

"We've come with word about your brother," the man said, linking his arm protectively with the woman's, "he's been seriously ill recently and almost passed away."

I shrugged.

"So?"

That surprised them.

"So…don't you want to go and see him? To make up with him?"

"Is he still a priest?" I asked in a mocking tone.

"He is now the archdeacon of Notre Dame."

Hmmm…archdeacons had money…didn't they? Surely they had to keep some on hand. He could always write it off as an act of charity. I started towards Notre Dame cathedral.

"Not that way," the girl said, "he's staying with a friend of ours."

I gave them a Look.

"What's he outside for? Don't they all stay in the cathedral? Or have the rules changed?"

"We'll explain it on the way."

I staggered along behind them.

I wondered what my old friend, Phoebus was up to. I hadn't seen him in quite some time…he and I would sometimes look for ladies together. It was always great to get drunk with someone else…you didn't have to worry about looking like a fool all by yourself. Though alone was almost as good…

"Who in the Hell is this?" the old lady at the door asked bluntly.

"Nice to meet you, too," I said sarcastically, "I came to see my brother. He is still here, isn't he?"

"Who's there?" a familiar voice called from the top of the stairs. There was a series of footsteps. Then, I could see him.

Though my head still hurt, I was more aware of everything now. He had gotten a little older, the lines on his face a tiny bit deeper, but he was still my insufferable crucifix-waving brother. It was hard to say whose appearance shocked him more. His eyes kept darting back in forth between me and the delicious lady on the poet's arm.

"Jehan?"

His voice was high-pitched almost like a kitten's mew.

"Well, Claude…why aren't you in that great big cathedral? Did they throw you out or something?"

He winced and I realized too late that I'd said something.

"Where have you been?" he asked quietly.

"All over the world," I sighed, "but I got tired of it when I nearly got thrown off the last ship. Apparently, I counted as a stowaway. I came back to Paris about two weeks ago."

He ventured closer, but turned his face away in disgust.

"God's Cross, Jehan…did you fall in a wine cask recently?"

I grinned.

"Close enough."

"Never mind that," the old lady simpered, "when was the last time you had a bath?"

I shrugged. I couldn't really remember.

"Don't know…I've had a bit of bad luck recently," I said as pathetically as I could, "my purse got stolen last night."

Only the poet seemed suspicious. The rest just looked at each other.

"So…can you help me out a bit?"

My brother shook his head.

"I wish I could…" he said sympathetically, "but…I have nothing to give you at the moment. Some unfortunate events have taken place recently."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Hmmm…like what?"

"I'll tell you when the hangover stops."

With that, Claude looked over at the old bat.

"Oh, no. He is NOT staying here," she growled.

He didn't break his gaze.

"Don't look at me with those big blue eyes, no!"

The slightest of a smile ghosted his lips. He was going to win, I could see it.

"Oh…Claude! Fine! He can sleep it off, but if he wets or vomits in his sleep, YOU are in charge of cleaning it up!"

"Come on," Claude motioned me forward.

"I'm only doing this because I know you'll make me regret it if I don't," she scolded my brother as we ascended the stairs.

"What an insufferable old bat," I snorted.

"Isn't she?" Claude chuckled. Then, suddenly sober, he sat down on the bed beside me.

"You and I have a lot to catch up on later," he commented.

"Yes, I know…"

He held a small bottle out to me.

"Take a drink. Margot swears by it."

Too desperate to argue, I upended the bottle and made a face at the taste. All too soon, I was drowsy again and sagged backwards.

I suppose it's better that I won't have a headache…he'll keep me here all night, lecturing me, I thought.