Since I was on a roll last night, I decided to post this chapter earlier than expected! I hope you all enjoy! Plus, we begin to see some tender moments between our main heros! Onward!

Chapter Ten

Of Healing and Song

Third Person

Sophia's POV

She was seated on the floor of Quasi's sleeping tent, a basin of hot water off to her right and a white cloth clutched in her hand. Gently, she wiped away the pulpy mess that had dried over the pale skin of his face, chest, and back. His now stained and torn tunic lay not far off from her, forgotten and abandoned. Quasi was seated directly in front, his back facing her so as to allow her to wipe away the fruit and vegetable mess.

"You have done enough Sophia. Allow me see the wound."

Was it possible for his already soft and timid voice to become any softer? It must have been because that's exactly what his tone sounded like. Even since they had reached the bell tower and began cleaning up the pulverized mess that was his hair and upper body, Quasi had become so silent and withdrawn. Sophia was beginning to worry about him. True, he was normally a soft spoken person in the first place and yes, he did enjoy listening to her talk more than him but still. He had not spoken much since she had finished his hair and began working on his chest and back.

"No Quasi, I'm almost finished. Allow me to take care of you before we worry about me. Besides," She added offhandedly. "It is not as bad as it looks."

Just as she had cleaned away the last of the pulp, Quasi turned and gently took her wrist holding the cloth in his hold. She sat there in surprise, not sure how to place the current expression he wore. It was a mixture of concern, fear, and something else she could not place.

"Quasi," She started, feeling slightly breathless.

"Sophia I . . ." He trailed off and looked over through the flap of the tent to gaze at his work table.

He turned fully around so he was facing her directly, then he took the cloth from her hand but still did not relinquish his hold on the small appendage. He gazed down at it as if it was the most interesting and beautiful thing he had ever seen, even running his thumb over a scar just above the first knuckle.

"Are you . . alright?" He asked timidly, still not quite looking at her. "That man, he could have . . could have killed you."

So that was the root of the issue. He was worried about her. Sophia sighed softly, not sure if she was ready to talk about it and, in truth, she really wasn't. She had been terrified, the event as a whole had been terrifying. Quasi being led up on the platform, him being assaulted by the people of Paris, seeing him tied down to that horrible wheel and displayed like a common animal. Even worse, trying to get to him over and over. Trying so hard to reach him and end his torment but being stopped over and over. It seemed like it had taken an eternity to reach him.

Sophia leaned forward and gently placed a hand on his bare shoulder, giving it a comfortable squeeze. "Quasi, I am fine. Right now, I am more worried about you. If anything, it is you who needs comfort; not me."

His head snapped up so fast that Sophia had to move her head back to avoid connecting with it. "How can you be so calm!" He did not shout, but he seemed so shocked, so confused by her response. "You could have been killed and yet you are more concerned with my well-being? Why?!"

'Because I love you.' Her mind answered, but she did not voice it.

"Because you are my friend Quasi." She insisted instead, trying to make him see her side of the situation. "Because I have never had a friend like you before. I meant what I said earlier today Quasi, there is no one else in Paris I trust more than you."

"I do not deserve your friendship," He stated coolly, turning his head away from her. "Nor do I deserve your trust. I have done nothing but cause you hardship and strife. If not for me, you would have never had that man hold a blade to your throat."

Anger rose within her, but she stomped it down, refusing to let him see it. Why did he always place the blame on himself? Why did he feel like he was the one responsible? It was her fault. She had insisted that he go. Insisted that he get out of the bell tower and start thinking for himself; stop letting Frollo control him and look at the result! This is what came of her pestering and insistence!

"Don't you dare!" Sophia firmly gripped both of his shoulders and forced him to meet her gaze. "Don't you think for one minute this was your fault! The blame lies with me and me alone!"

Quasi's eyes widened at her seriousness and agitation; he had rarely seen her like this. "Sophia," he murmured softly, surprised at her insistence.

"No Quasi!" She interrupted, shaking her head wildly and staring at the floor beneath her. "It was by my pestering and begging that caused you to give in and go. I was the one who was being selfish and self-absorbed. I didn't listen at all!"

By now, hot tears were threatening to pour over. Sophia tried to contain them, tried not to let them fall, but it was futile. The emotional stress was weighting to heavily upon her, threatening to engulf her. She wanted to cry, she wanted to hold Quasi to her and never let him go. But she couldn't. She was the one who didn't deserve him. She was the one who had done this to him. She was the one to blame. She wanted Quasi to yell at her, to scream at her for what she had done. She wanted him to be angry at her, not himself.

"Sophia."

His voice was gentle, yet there was a firmness there that told her to look up. She couldn't. After all she had done to him, she didn't deserve to look at him ever again. How could she call herself his friend now? How could she say she loved him when she had caused him pain? How?

"Sophia, please."

Now he was begging her; she couldn't resist him when he did that. She never could. Her hold on his shoulders loosened, then fell away entirely. She couldn't hold back the tears, her body shook as a result but she still did not raise her head. Suddenly, the back of a hand was underneath her chin and gradually pushing it upwards until her face was level with his. She closed her eyes immediately, shutting him out. She heard him sigh softly before he spoke again.

"Open your eyes."

He sounded tired, as if he really didn't want to press her and yet, felt it imperative that he do so.

"I . ." She tried to make her voice level, but it came out all wrong anyway. "I can't!" The last word left her as a sob.

He paused for a moment, then asked timidly, "Do you . . do you trust me?"

Did she trust him?! What a question! Oh course! There was no one else in all of Paris that she trusted more than him! She knew he would never lead her astray, never doubt her, never leave her, and would never, ever force her to do something she was not willing to do. She trusted him with her very life!

"Y-yes," She responded, still trying to stem the tears that she knew were falling down her cheeks. "With my life."

Oh dear! She didn't mean to voice that aloud! She did trust him, but suddenly revealing that she trusted him so much that she would put her life in his hands? Well, that kind of thing would scare the hell out of some people! His hand still hadn't left the spot from under her chin, but she could feel him give a start at her words. Great, now he'll pull away and . . .

Suddenly a hand reached out and caught her around the shoulders, pulling her forwards. She lost her balance and fell into something soft, firm, and ever so slightly, hairy. Sophia opened her eyes just in time to see Quasi fold his large, yet gentle arms around her still damp form; she had forgotten that she was still wet from the rain. It was then that full realization hit her. Quasi was holding her! A slight blush overcame her as she tried to clear her head and make sense, though, it was proving to be more difficult than she expected.

Quasi's figure was not like that of a regular man's. His back was bent and slightly twisted, his legs seemed to thin to support him but they were stronger than one thought at first glance, his arms were overly muscular from pulling the heavy iron bells day after day for twenty years, but it was his torso that she never really had an idea of. Now that he had her nuzzled against him, she could tell that it was not toned. It was loose and soft. Warm. There was muscle of that there was no doubt, but it was not finely toned like many other men's were. It was not defined, yet, there was such warmth and comfort! Something at this point she desperately needed.

"It is alright Sophia," He murmured, his chest vibrating rhythmically as he spoke. "Let it go."

Then the tears she had been trying to keep at bay finally released themselves from her lids and a shuttering sob escaped her. Sophia gave in and just let the stress and worry flow out of her and into her friend who tightened his arms around her, creating a circle of protection and, in her mind, love. She felt one of Quasi's large hands rub comforting and soothing circles into her back and that just made her cry all the more. That he still cared about her, that he wasn't angry with her or mad in any way. It simply amazed her of how much tolerance and patience he had.

After a minutes of crying, Sophia finally got a hold of herself and stemmed the last of the tears. She felt so much better! Much, much, much better! By now, Quasi was slowly stroking her hair, which, was still damp as well as her clothes. Realizing this, she reluctantly pulled away from him and wiped a stray tear from her eyes.

"Quasi," She began, a slight giggle escaping her. "I'm all wet."

"I . . um . ." He trailed off, a nervous and thoroughly embarrassed hint in his voice.

Realizing how awkward this was, Sophia decided to change the subject before things got too awkward.

"Sorry for all that," She offered quietly. "I didn't mean to . . ."

"Sophia, it's alright," Quasi just looked at her, his eyes filled with understanding. "You needed it."

She smiled back, "I think we both did."

She watched slightly amused as his face flushed a light pink before moving to stand. Sophia moved to follow him, but he reached out and gently grasped her shoulder, carefully guiding her to sit down again. Confused as to why, Sophia offered a puzzled look but he only shook his head and hobbled out of the tent. As he lifted the flap, he threw her a pleading look that told her to stay put and then he was gone. She sighed. What was he up to? She got her answer a moment later when he returned with a fresh cloth, a small bowl, a bottle of wine, and clean bandages.

"Now," He began, resuming his seat in front of her. "Let me take care of that wound."

Sophia grimaced as he laid out all his supplies and poured a little of the wine into the bowl. She was not going to enjoy this one bit. "Can't we just leave it as is?"

Quasi gave her a pointed look, "No we cannot. If we do, it may get infected and that will be of no help to anyone. Now, let me see."

Reluctantly, she pulled her blouse slightly to the side (she didn't have to move it much since the cut was closer to her collarbone) and allowed Quasi to examine it. Tentatively, he prodded it with one of his fingers, tilting his head this way and that so as to know the best way of treating it.

"How is it you know medicine?" She asked curiously, tilting her head in the opposite direction so as not to be in his light.

"Books," He replied simply. "From the archdeacon's library. He taught me a great deal about healing and medicine. From what I could not learn from him, I learned from his books."

Even after knowing him for ten years, Quasi still managed to surprise her with numerous facts about himself she could never have guessed. She knew he loved reading, she did too. But she didn't know that he had learned medicine from them or that he could for that matter. Still, for a day like today, his medical skills were much appreciated. Even if the wine stung like hell. As he gently cleaned the cut, Sophia could tell by the strained look on his face that he was battling something internally. Something that was making it very hard for him to keep calm.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, not sure if it was an answer he wanted to give.

He sighed, put down the now bloody rag, and began bandaging the cut. He was trying not to think about it, trying to keep his hands busy and his mind clear; of this, Sophia was certain. It was a moment or two before he spoke.

"I-" He paused, as if unsure to continue. "I never felt so . . enraged before."

It didn't take Sophia long to understand what he was talking about. "Quasi, you were scared. When people are scared they react in ways that under normal circumstances they wouldn't. You didn't hurt him, that's what matters."

"But I could have," He argued, his tone turning dark. "I could have easily killed him if I wanted too. And I did, I wanted to. If you had not have stopped me-"

She shook her head in disagreement, "That's where you're wrong. I don't think you could have, even if you were in that kind of a rage. Quasi," Sophia reached out and pressed a hand to his heart. "You would have stopped even if I hadn't. I know it."

"How can you be so sure?" He asked incredulously, shaking his head and tying off the ends of the bandage. "How do you know that I wouldn't have?"

Sophia smiled at him, "Because I know you, Quasi. I know the kind of person you truly are and you would not have killed him because your heart would not have allowed you to."

He opened his mouth in protest but something far off in the distance stopped him. He raised his head and looked toward the sound, his face widening in surprise. His whole body went still as he listened intently to . . . whatever it was. Taken aback by his strange behavior, Sophia too, stilled herself in order to hear what he was hearing. For several moments, she couldn't hear anything that would warrant Quasi's current behavior. Then, she heard it! The tell-tale voice of someone singing!

It sounded far off, like it was coming from the sanctuary. But, as far as Sophia knew, there was no choir practice scheduled for today and, whoever the person was, sounded like they were singing alone. She cast her friend a questioning glance but Quasi was too absorbed in the voice to notice. She sighed. There was no point in just sitting around here wondering; may as well investigate.

"Come on," Sophia rose to her feet and headed for the tent flap. "Let's see who it is."

This snapped Quasi out of his dreamlike state. "W-what?"

She rolled her eyes in slight frustration, her hand paused on the flap. "Don't pretend you don't want to. The way you were looking just now was priceless."

He blushed furiously, his cheeks staining a deep red. "I . . well . . um . ."

"Oh, for the love of-" Sophia briskly walked back over to him, took his hand in hers, and led him out of the tent. "Come on!"

As she led him out of the bell tower and through Notre Dame to the sanctuary, she couldn't help a small smile from spreading across her face as Quasi's hand tightened around her own. A warm, tingling feeling ran up her arm and straight to her heart. Holding his hand was definably one of her favorite things, even if his hand was so large that it engulfed it completely. Still, she clutched the edge of his hand in hers for that was all her small hand could grasp. She would never let go it she could help it. Never.

. . .

They reached the sanctuary minutes later, still pleased to find that the woman (they finally identified the voice as such when they got closer) was still continuing her somber tune. As Sophia reached the balcony that overlooked the practitioners and monks below, she noticed one figure looked very displaced. Upon closer examination, she found it was La Esmeralda! And never straying far from her skirts was her little white goat companion!

She was singing a prayer of some sort to the Virgin Mary, conveying her pleads for her people and those who had been forgotten by the world. It struck a cord somewhere within her and a tear or two welled from her eyes. It was beautiful, simply beautiful. They followed the young gypsy about from the upper levels, soaking in her voice and words. Now that Sophia had spent more time around her, even if it was without the young woman noticing, she liked her. She wasn't the person she had thought she was before.

And it seemed Quasi had taken a liking to her as well.

She shook her head, this foolishness had to stop. This jealousy she had of the gypsy was utterly useless and unfounded. Quasi barely knew her and the only reason he was so smitten with her was because she was something new in his world; something he had never experienced. That did not mean that he . . . right? Again, she shook her head. This was utterly ridiculous!

They eventually found their way down to the ground floor just in time to hear Esmeralda end her song which, ended on quite a high note. Literally. The ebony haired woman then knelt down and embraced the goat beside her in a tight, loving hug. The kid seemed to mean a lot to her. The little goat raised his head at bleated softly, as if conveying his affection for her. The woman smiled warmly down at him and offered his head a gentle pet.

Suddenly, one of the doors to the cathedral burst open and Frollo, followed by several soldiers entered with spears and swords drawn.

"Arrest her!"

Ohhhh! Wasn't expecting that were you! I decided to switch Frollo's and Pheobus's interaction with Esme after she does the song. I think it'll play out for the best this way so all the characters get enough screentime in the story so to speak. Anyway, please leave a nice little comment in the box below! It really helps!