There was a much deeper hole Pierre had dug for himself. There was more that Quasimodo had to know if the whole city was in a panic. Agatha was not so agreeable to allow him to join in their evening meal. There was no telling if either of them were to just trust the lanky man, right away. Especially not when the children were about and prone to pry. Quasimodo's kindness was something left hardly questioned when it happened. It was obvious to them that he wasn't all that willing but he personally knew something was awry during these last couple of weeks. The day was ending although and any hope of leaving those doors were gone.

As a new guest who now sat across from the blind woman he bumped into earlier that day as she stirred a wooden ladle into the small steaming hot cauldron. The cloister happened to be well organized, even for this odd family of people. There were four young adults, perhaps older than thirteen years of age, as the rest were very young. Two little girls and two young boys… so there had to be eight extra mouths to feed in total. Besides the blind woman, there was another who had a flush of deep ginger hair that matched so closely to the legendery hunchback's. Quasimodo was on his way back from the bell towers at needing to ring once for the vespers.

Poor Pierre had to answer slightly obscure questions about the earlier situations that day and he had little choice. Bonny, the dark haired lad was first, then there was William, who wanted to know a lot of things. Agatha was enjoying this very much.

"The guards were so mad today!" Bonny laughed. "What did you do?"

"I don't think that is up to me to answer that right away —"

"Did you steal something?" William prodded.

"Boys!" Adalyn had to press herself into the conversation. "He is not a prisoner, he is a hapless citizen. And he is going to share an evening meal with us. Now ease back." she gently pressed them away from the flustered young man.

"Many thanks, dear lady. Many, many thanks…" Pierre smiled at her.

She shared him a slightly questioning look before she began to serve them all bowls of stew.

"Don't you get used to that, sir. If he shows approval, then you can thank me however you wish."

Oh, how he knew that well. He had to get through to Quasimodo first. It wasn't long before the cloister door was opened and it revealed to be the weary bell ringer. Pierre's stomach began to churn the moment he saw a suspecting glance from those gentle eyes. Pierre saw the gingers exchange looks and the children were ushered to another spare room to eat their meal. Now the moment when Quasimodo took a bowl and sat down across from him, Pierre had the strong desire to run. Holding onto his courage, he stayed.

Quasimodo rolled up a sleeve a little bit not minding Pierre catching a glimpse of the hidden bandage beneath. He noticed and shared a saddened smile.

"This … is why I wear my sleeves long now." he began. "… because I know these scars will never go away. Now that I've told you a truth, you need to give me a truth. You can say that it's a little game we play."

"Sir, Quasimodo… I meant no ill against you. Perish the thought!"

"… so tell me why you are here. What have you done that vexed Paris this much?"

The lanky blonde had to look around, seeing that the blind was staring off at their general direction. It was obvious that she was into on every single word that was being uttered. She looked perturbed by how she was gnawing on her own lower lip.

"Agatha happens to be my ears and she said that you mentioned that you knew the former Minister of Justice …"

Quasimodo had to deeply lower his voice, on behalf of his family… because it was essential that a certain name was never mentioned inside these walls.

"Claude —"

Quasimodo rose a hand at him, with passive irritation behind his pressed lips.

"There is reason why we don't say it."

"… m-many apologies, sir. The least I want to do is to earn your contempt. I-I only need help."

"To help you get back in line to the gallows? No worries…"

Hearing the creeping anger in Quasimodo's voice, Pierre knew that he had to cut to the chase.

"Sir, I did make a huge mistake. Me being a former student of his ten years back ~ I'd reckon that you don't remember me. But …"

"I remember that he had many students during his time in Paris…" Quasimodo mentioned, darkly.

"Right. Thought so…" Pierre nervously chuckled as he set his own bowl of stew aside and crossed his legs even tighter. "Most importantly, I've been on a mission since the word of the seige reached the farmlands eastern. When I was thrown out with the sows, I decided to take it into my hands to be sure that the Minister wasn't murdered, but had fallen —"

"Who said he was murdered?" Quasimodo intruded, quite forcefully.

"The people hear things, even those who weren't there, they hear one word and it gets twisted ~ I-I'm not saying he was. B-but… but mouths speak and words spread along like a fungus."

He saw Quasimodo roll his eyes before he pinched the bridge of his squashed nose, trying to gather the rest of his patience. Agatha lifted her nose, very suspicious of where this conversation was headed.

"… so, when I crossed over into Paris, quite against my will, I might add … they were cleaning out the Minister's chambers."

Quasimodo's eyes sharpened at those words.

"I spotted the one carraige they were using to gather these things… and they were carting them off to a library to be sorted. As for the rest, they were going to be burned."

"What?" Quasimodo's voice reached a worried tone.

"… so one night when it was stopped I… let myself inside."

"You broke an entry into a noble's carriage, possibly his carriage, to steal… d-documents?"

"No no! Not steal, NOT stealing… Just to see if there was any written proof of what happened that morning."

Pierre wanted to curl up and hide, but that was the truth. Agatha started laughing, so hard that her head went back.

"That has to be the most pathetic, most hilarious confession ever to be given within the walls of this very church!"

"… agatha…" Quasimodo sighed with his face buried in both hands.

"Sure, sex scandals! Theft, treachery and mere stupidy is a given, but this will be remembered to best them all!" Agatha came smiling as she whacked Quasi on the shoulder with the back of her hand, playfully.

"Oh Lord, may You strike me down…" Pierre uttered, defeated and ashamed.

"Agatha, this is nothing to laugh at. Seriously. Really?" Quasimodo told her off, completely apalled.

"Pardon me just because we differ in sense of humor here. You know how ridiculous this is." she replied, now taking a seat with them.

"Ridiculous, certainly…."

"Ridiculous as in he went through all that trouble, anger the entire capital, when he could just come to you to get the right answers." Agatha explained her reason for hysterics.

"I needed more than just words, my lady. I needed written proof."

"Even though you have the perfect witness who was one of the victims on that one morn."

"Oh, Lord…" Quasimodo choked. There was no escape. "A-a-agatha… Just-just stop." he barked.

She nodded, knowing that he couldn't ever put this behind him, ever. She knew the entire story and her trust in him was as hard as stone. She started the fire, since he needed closure about this.

"Reason, my dear lady, I couldn't find him to begin with…. All due to our Spaniard friends, no doubt!" Pierre countered.

"You could have asked around, we were here for several weeks." she ended it right there.

"I needed written proof and I did happen to find something."

Quasimodo angrily brushed his hair back as he rose his eyes back to the blubbering man.

"You found what?"

"This is the main reason why I needed to claim Sanctuary, sir… You might not want to be near your family if you read it…"

"Seems like you want to be sentenced to death." Agatha scoffed.

She shut her mouth the moment she felt Quasimodo lightly elbow her in the rib. He sighed, heavily as he eyed this former student right in the eye.

"I really don't know what to think of you. I do not know whether to trust you or throw out of this room, right now. Quite honestly. But it seems that you know about him and me, in particular. I really do not want this. I really do not want this family in any kind of danger. What we say and whatever you have to show me has to stay in secrecy and stays inside this room. As soon as this is finished, you are gone. I don't want you here. … am I clear?"

"Um-" Pierre instantly picked up on the bell ringer's anger.

"Am I clear?"

"Yes! Yes, sir. I mean, I did say that I don't have any ill against you. Nor do I wish to make an enemy, I swear…"

"Then this is not a good impression… to bring up the past. You actually had the gall to bring this up."

"I am so sorry that I did. I had to. But you cannot run from the past, but you can move on from it."

"That was exactly what I was trying to do. Not sure if you knew, but we are trying to help these orphans, and I do not want them involved."

"You can throw me out, by all means… but this is important that you have this."

He dared to reach into a loose pocket in his thin grey jacket. With that, he pulled his thin hand out holding a shriveled parchment, neatly folded in an old piece of shawl. If Quasimodo was angry enough, he almost wanted to order not for it to be given to him… but gently, he took it from Pierre's shaken hand. As he did this, he was shrinking at the sharpening eyes of the trusted bell ringer as he slowly unfolded the parchment. The entire cloister fell into a terrible silence.

Quasimodo had his eyes glued to the parchment, and with each word he read the less color he had in his face. Pierre knew that the chill of the night waited for him just outside. After what seemed like an eternity, Quasimodo finally looked at the former student before folding the parchment again. He stood up, shaking with growing rage.

"I want you out of this cloister."

"Sir, I—I know-"

"I said out. I will not have my family drawn into this." Quasimodo forcefully motioned before he threw the paper across the stone floor. "You do not know what we all have gone through to get here. Now, I want you out. A-and you better not come back."

"Y-yes, sir… I-I was just trying to solve a mystery. I h-had a feeling I would be making an enemy."

"You sure have. Now, I am sure the monks would provide for you, but you have no place near my family. I've had enough…"

Agatha was not all right either when she began to hear her dear friend's voice fall apart at the seams. As their guest fled in a flurry, as she could hear, she groped for the parchment he threw.

"Quasi…"

"Agatha, what have you done?" he finally turned his voice to her. "You know it! You know it…. You know we don't speak about it."

"I-I know, Quasi… I am sorry —"

"Why did you bring him here?" she heard his tone leak with hurt and shock.

The parchment, in question, which was now held in the blind's hands, was a letter salvaged written by Claude Frollo's hand, specifically. A piece of a neglected journal among notes and other personals. Due to time and weathering, the only main points Quasimodo saw were confessions of the murder of an innocent gypsy woman and the near drowning of her physically destroyed child.