Frollo gripped the unconscious boy tightly as he descended the ladder and emerged into Quasimodo's room.

The scene before him was chaotic, with Abella trying to both unchain Quasimodo and fend off Jackson, but as soon as they heard him approaching, all three froze.

Abella was the first to move. Abandoning Quasimodo, she took a halting step forward, her face a wild mess of anguish as she saw Ezmere laying seemingly dead in Frollo's arms. She fell to her knees and even from across the room, Frollo could sense her hysteria rising.

He ignored her. Ezmere was the only thing that mattered.

"Jackson," he barked in a thunderous voice. "Run and fetch the doctor. We will be in one of the rooms below."

Jackson stumbled over his own feet in his haste to do as Frollo ordered.

As soon as he was gone, Abella rose on wobbly feet and lurched forward. Frollo side stepped her and warned, "Interfere now and Ezmere will surely die."

"He's alive?"

"For the moment."

She clung to the information like oxygen and did not attempt to hurt Frollo as he swept from the room and bore Ezmere to one of the lower levels of the church. Here, down below the main floor and under the worship hall, was a wing of rooms that currently lay empty. They would be perfect for Ezmere's recovery.

The church was abandoned. Moonlight filtered in through the windows and bathed Ezmere in a silver glow. He looked as if he had been carved from marble.

Frollo wanted to tear at his own hair, infuriated at his lapse in judgment and now Ezmere might die for his mistake.

He bit back a bitter laugh. How many times had he wished the boy dead and yet now when Frollo's only desire in the world was for his survival, he may succumb to the darkness.

Soft footfalls padded behind him. He knew it was Abella following but he was unconcerned. They both knew Ezmere's fate was in his hands.

"Open the door," he instructed her and she darted in front of them, opening the door that led to the hallway of abandoned rooms.

He chose the largest of the three and placed Ezmere on the center of the bed. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he looked at the wound that marred the otherwise perfect body.

"Place your hands on the wound," he ordered Abella. "Do not let go until the doctor tells you to do so."

She nodded jerkily and rushed to Ezmere's side, placing both hands on the crimson bandages. She seemed to be in shock.

Frollo heard more footsteps in the hall and he went to meet them. It was Jackson and the doctor.

"This way," he said, motioning into the room.

The doctor, a short man named Smith, cast him a frightened look then bustled into the room clutching a bag of what Frollo assumed would be medical supplies. The man was still in his nightclothes and his hair was mussed from sleep.

Jackson made to follow the healer into the room but Frollo grabbed his arm. "You have work that needs to be done. Send reinforcements in your place to guard the door. Find out how many gypsies were captured tonight and order your men to place them back in the jail cells. Do not kill them. Yet."

"But the gallows, the pyres…" Jackson protested.

"You are not to use them."

"But sir!"

Frollo's face contorted in rage and he shoved the man away from him. "You heard me! Now do as I say!"

Jackson nodded and sprinted away.

Frollo watched him go and took a deep breath, trying to reign in his temper. As for the gypsies, if Ezmere lived they would be set free. If he died, so would they.

Smith was muttering to himself as he looked over Ezmere.

"How long since the stabbing?"

"An hour I'd imagine," Frollo said casting his mind back. "I found the boy gutted in an alley way. It no doubt happened as the gypsies tried to leave and I wouldn't be surprised if it was one of his own people that stabbed him. They are a volatile race."

"Kind of you to take him in…" Smith muttered.

Abella hadn't even flinched at Frollo's lies. She was watching the doctor with wide eyes. "Will he live?"

Smith didn't spare her a glance. "I don't know."

She blinked back tears and turned wild eyes on Frollo. "You did this," she hissed. She began to stalk towards him.

Frollo wasn't afraid of her but his actions were limited in front of a witness. Smith was glancing at them out of the corner of his eye.

Fortunately, four guards arrived before Abella could attack. Frollo snapped his fingers at the first two.

"Take this girl and throw her out of the city. Do not let her reenter!"

"No!" she protested as they grabbed her by the arms and pulled her bodily from the room. "Ezmere! EZMERE!"

Her screams echoed through the empty hallways as she struggled in vain to return to Ezmere, then Frollo heard the final, thunderous boom of main doors slamming shut and silence was allowed to resume.

Frollo glanced at Ezmere to see if he had been disturbed by the commotion but he had not moved. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips and his eyes were shut.

Frollo pulled his robes tighter about his slim frame. It was extremely disconcerting to see someone usually so full of life, laying still as a corpse and he knew then that he could not stay. He could not watch the doctor struggle to save Ezmere and fail.

Turning to the remaining two guards, Frollo said brusquely, "Lock this door. Let no one in or out until I say. Fetch the doctor anything he needs but he is not to leave that boy unattended. Do you understand?"

Two nods.

"Good. Good," he muttered. He cast one last, hard look at Ezmere then strode down the hall. He heard the door swing shut and the lock click into place.

He could have easily called for a carriage to take him home but instead he walked the empty streets, the dense smoke from the fires making his eyes water.

He could still feel Ezmere's shaking.

Frollo clenched his jaw and shook his head side to side as if trying to rid himself of a fly. He couldn't describe what had happened up on the roof but in that moment, just as he had been about to take Ezmere, he had been hit by one sickening realization; Ezmere had been right about everything.

He had accused Frollo of lusting after him and Frollo had not only proved that to be true, but had been prepared to let such a beautiful creature die just so he could be physically satisfied. He had been consumed by the basest of human emotion. Gone was his control, his patience and above all, his logic and reasoning. If it was Ezmere he desired most in the world, how could he let him die?

A howl built in the back of Frollo's throat until his rage came screaming out of him. He tore at his hair and punched the wall of the nearest building until the skin of his knuckles split.

The pain made him slump to the ground, clutching his wounded hand and he moaned piteously.

"Blessed Mary, help me," he panted. "You placed the boy in my hands and I abused your gift…" He shifted so he was sitting against the building he had just attacked and continued his prayer. "Let Ezmere live and I will use the time with him to tame my lust. I will love the boy as does Christ. I will lead him to a life of light and righteousness. Just let him live!"

His voice cracked and he trailed off. His head ached and pulsed with each miserable breath he drew. He drew his robes closer around him and closed his eyes.

Darkness prevailed and he sighed as his mind presented him with the memory of Ezmere falling to his knees, his eyes half lidded with pain. He saw each drop of rain drip off the bronzed skin…

"Let him live," Frollo moaned. "Let me have another chance to love him."

Then he slumped over and succumbed to the blackness caused by his injuries and the tumultuous thoughts pounding in his mind.

A gentle voice was whispering prayers over him.

Frollo slowly opened his eyes and glancing around, he found himself lying in his own bed with his servant, Gabrielle, staring at him in concern.

"You are awake!" she cried in relief. "When the soldiers brought you here, we feared you were dead!"

Frollo pushed himself into a sitting position. "How long was I asleep?"

"Two days, Monsieur!"

He let out a harsh breath. Two days… Ezmere was either long dead or still on the perilous road to recovery. Frollo balled his hands into fists beneath the blankets.

"Water," he said.

Gabrielle snapped to attention and handed him a cup full of cool water.

Frollo's throat felt ragged and raw from inhaling so much smoke. His headache remained ever present.

"Summon the captain of the guard. I have much to discuss with him."

Gabrielle curtsied and flew from the room, returning a few moments later with Jackson.

"I was downstairs," Jackson said, when Frollo raised an eyebrow at his immediate appearance.

Frollo smoothed his blanket down the motioned for the captain to approach.

"Tell me the condition of the city."

Jackson closed the door on Gabrielle and said, "Thirty-six gypsies remain in prison. It would be a greater number but it seems a mass breakout freed the others we had previously controlled. We are struggling to contain them. The rest of the city is in chaos and we have instructed everyone to remain indoors until the fires are quelled and the smoke subdues."

"The camp still burns?"

Jackson shifted his weight from side to side and said uncomfortably, "The blaze jumped the walls and spread to the grass field outside the city. We are fighting it even now."

Frollo looked him over and noted the layer of soot that darkened his clothes and skin. "Spread the word that the gypsies set the fire as they left. I want none of this coming back to us."

"Understood."

Frollo's head gave a particularly painful throb and he was eager to rest again. "Anything else, Captain?"

Jackson shrugged. "The girl who we threw from the city has returned. She haunts Notre Dame, trying to find a way inside but every way door has been locked. We have removed her from the steps several times. I was unsure if I should imprison her."

Frollo rubbed the bridge of his nose as he frowned. What a thorn in his side Abella was… "Yes, place her with the rest of the vermin for now. I will deal with them all in the coming days, once I recover."

"We will extinguish the fire soon enough, or it will burn out," Jackson assured him. "But do not venture out of your house right now. The air is toxic and the smoke has blocked out the sun."

Frollo glanced at the fog outside his window. Smoke, he corrected himself, not fog.

"I understand, Captain. I have only one more order for you. Have someone release the hunchback from her chains and place guards at her door. In fact, place guards at every door of the cathedral both inside and out. No one is to enter or leave until I say so." He hesitated then before asking, "Do you know the condition of the boy?"

"No sir. I have been preoccupied with the fire."

Frollo waved a hand in dismissal. "Very well. Carry on, Captain."

Jackson gave him a slight bow before leaving the room.

When he was alone, Frollo's breath hissed out from between his teeth. He had no idea as to Ezmere's fate and from the looks of the smoke, he would have to wait several more days before finding out.

As it turned out, the days went by quickly. A healer was summoned to treat the stab wound in his thigh and to address the issue of the smoke inhalation. He rested a great deal and sent missives to calm the fearful population.

The fifth day since the ordeal on the roof top, brought a torrential rain that stomped out the remnants of the fire and forced the smoke to the earth. The rain was hailed a blessing and the people praised both the Lord and Frollo even when the rain flooded the scorched earth and sent brown muck flowing through the streets.

It was at this muck that Frollo stared as his carriage rolled through the mud splattered streets. Every now and then tendrils of filth would splash up onto the carriage windows. Frollo wrinkled his nose and looked away.

Worry about Ezmere's condition had almost driven him mad, though one would never tell by looking at him. His expression was hard and his eyes, cold. His hair was combed and smooth and his skin was clean. He looked every inch the imposing man of faith he had always been and yet on the inside, Ezmere was eating away at his conscious.

When the carriage came to a halt outside the cathedral, Frollo stepped out and was immediately aware of a commotion to his left.

He strode around the corner to find Abella brawling with two city guards. She was covered in so much blood and ash that there was not an inch of clean skin. Her face alone was the only part Jackson had not cut though that too was filthy with dirt and tears.

The guards pounced on her and pushed her into the mud, one of them struggling to clamp manacles around her wrist.

Abella kicked him away, and scrambled back to her feet even as the second guard descended upon her. He hit her in the stomach several times and again she fell though this time she was unable to fight the man off.

She curled into a ball and cried out with each of his cruel blows.

Furious, Frollo strode forward and pushed the men back. "This girl is not to be harmed! Did your captain not inform you of this? Why is she not jailed?"

The men looked both surprised at Frollo's anger and fearful of it.

"He said we were to imprison her days ago but this is the first we've seen of her! The flood washed her out of her hiding place."

Abella rolled onto her back and she stared up at Frollo with tears flowing down her cheeks. "Is he alive?" she whispered, her voice raw and scratched. "I have to see him. Please let me see him!"

Frollo stared down his long nose as he beheld her. "I regret your injuries. I promised Ezmere no harm would come to you, but you try my patience. "

He crouched down and leaned over her as he said, "I will give you one last chance to leave this city, or else you will be thrown in jail for the rest of your days. Do you understand?"

Her face twisted with despair and she asked again, "Is he alive?"

Frollo stood and began to walk away.

"Is he alive?" she shrieked.

Frollo allowed himself a small, inward smile. He would enjoy this. Without looking back at her, he said in a firm, cold voice, "No."

He had expected her to scream and wail but it was as if his words had killed her. Her face went completely blank and she did not make a sound. She would not move, even when the guards prodded her with their feet. Seeing no other option, they grabbed her by the arms and pulled her limp form down the street.

Frollo watched in satisfaction until they were gone from his sight, then he took a deep breath and threw open the doors of the cathedral.

Several priests bustled forwards to greet him and he performed his duties as their leader with barely concealed impatience. He did not have time for this.

When he finally extricated himself from their midst, he descended to the lower levels of the cathedral, moving silently as a specter amongst the cold, unfeeling stone.

Ezmere was waiting for him. Their new life was waiting for him. Or else… he would be visiting a corpse.

The guards outside the doors stepped aside at his arrival and he stretched out a long, pale hand to open the door.

Ezmere was laying still as stone on the bed. To his left, sat the doctor, who was slumped against the wall in apparent exhaustion.

Frollo drifted to Ezmere's side and after a brief pause, reached down to take hold of his wrist. He waited for several seconds, then he closed his eyes and sent up an ardent prayer to blessed mary. She had saved him. Ezmere's pulse beat weakly beneath his skin.

Frollo sat heavily on the bed for he feared he would not be able to remain standing.

The doctor, Smith, jerked awake as he did so.

"You're here," he croaked, seeming to take this as permission to leave.

"I am here and you have done well," Frollo said, sitting up as straight backed as if he had been in a wooden chair. "I take it the boy will survive?"

"He should," Smith said, weariness staining his voice. "He has yet to wake but this is expected considering the amount of blood he lost."

Frollo considered this, then nodded in agreement. "You may return to your home but I expect you to remain his doctor. You shall visit him twice or thrice daily if needed. Any decline in his health, I will blame on you."

Smith scrubbed at his bleary eyes and stood on unsteady legs. "I understand." He turned to leave but then hesitated and looked back at Frollo, "If I may, why does this boy's life mean so much to you? I have no great love of gypsies and you yourself seemed not to care for them."

Frollo's eyes flashed dangerously and he said in a smooth but deadly voice, "You think I do not care for all of the Lord's creations? Do you find my conscious so absent as to abandon a boy to torment and death?"

"Please, I didn't mean-"

Frollo spoke over him. "I saved him because the Lord would have saved him. I shall show him mercy and compassion as would our savior and he will turn away from his sin riddled life and be born anew in the power of Christ!"

Smith looked as if he didn't quite know how to respond to this. He was silent for a few moments, then bobbed his head and muttered, "Very charitable of you."

Then he left.

Frollo snorted in annoyance then closed the door after him.

He dragged a chair next to the bed and sat down, straight-backed and ridged as he looked at Ezmere.

A large, white bandage covered the wound and wrapped around his slim torso. His skin was ashen and darkness ringed his closed eyes. The only visible sign that he wasn't dead, was the shallow rise and fall of his chest and the sheen of sickly sweat that covered his forehead.

His breathing sounded louder and wetter than it should have, as if he struggled for each breath.

Frollo gazed at him, quite convinced he had never seen anything so beautiful.

There was so much to plan. Ezmere would need to be fitted for new clothing, he would need to attend mass, be baptized, and then be reintroduced to society as Frollo's ward. He would also need quarters where Frollo could keep him contained. He did not want him venturing outside and running away or, god forbid, finding Abella.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hacking cough on Ezmere's part. Frollo stared at him expectantly, hoping the cough would drag him from unconsciousness, but after the cough subsided, Ezmere continued to slumber.

Frollo reached out a hand and placed it on Ezmere's forehead. As expected, he was burning. His hand lingered there for several seconds as he hungrily took in every detail of Ezmere's face. It was almost a blessing that Ezmere was unconscious as it gave him the ability to study the boy without those blazing, green eyes watching his every move.

Unable to stop himself, his fingers slid slowly down Ezmere's skin. His fingers skimmed over his cheek, traced the arch of his dark brows and ran along his lips.

"Lord give me strength," he moaned, feeling his need rise. This was his test. Though his heart was pounding, he took a deep breath and forced his mind away from the lure of Ezmere's body. With regret, he took his hands from Ezmere's face and placed one over the boy's heart. "Give him a taste of hell, Blessed Mary," he whispered, eyes now closed in prayer. "Let fear turn him from his sinful path. Let him accept my generosity and love."

He whispered a few more words, then made the sign of the cross over his chest before opening his eyes. He was startled to see that Ezmere too, had opened his eyes.

He was staring emptily at the ceiling with such a dull expression that Frollo half believed he had died. There was no life in those eyes.

"Ezmere?" he asked cautiously, forcing his voice to remain empty of the utter jubilation he felt at his awakening.

Ezmere didn't move, not even when Frollo cautiously reached out and took his hand.

After what felt like an age, Ezmere took a shuddering breath and asked, "What happened?"

He spoke so quietly that Frollo almost didn't hear him.

"I saved you. You are going to live."

Ezmere's gaze dropped from the ceiling to him and Frollo's heart skipped a beat. The eyes were no longer vacant but they may as well have been. They held nothing but despair.

"I don't want this," he whispered. His hand twitched in Frollo's grip.

Frollo raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary. The order came from your own mouth. You told me to save you."

A tear fell from the corner of Ezmere's eye.

Frollo watched, transfixed, as it rolled over his temple before vanishing into his black hair.

"I don't want this," Ezmere said again. He was so weak that he could barely talk and yet there was so much pain and heartache in his words that Frollo swallowed uncomfortably and hastened to reassure him.

"You saved the lives of your people. Thirty six prisoners will be released as soon as I leave you."

Ezmere said nothing. Frollo wasn't even sure he had heard him.

"Abella?"

Frollo nodded. "She is gone."

Ezmere released a strangled breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

Frollo watched him for a moment then asked delicately, "Do you remember the conditions we discussed?"

He could see Ezmere's eyes wandering listlessly beneath his lids.

"I have to stay with you," he said softly.

Frollo nodded. "You must stay with me." He continued to watch for any sign of a reaction. "You will be baptized. You will be transformed."

They sat in silence for so long that Frollo was convinced that Ezmere had fallen back asleep. He stood and bowed over Ezmere's prone form to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

When he reached the door he knocked twice on the door, signaling he was ready to leave. In the fractional span before the guards opened the door, he heard Ezmere whisper, "One day, I am going to kill you."

"You may try, dear child."

Ezmere slept for two more days.

Now that it was almost certain he would survive, Frollo checked in on him more frequently than the doctor.

"Has he tried to leave?" he asked the guards, eyeing Ezmere as he spoke.

"No sir. He hasn't moved."

Both pleased and concerned, Frollo entered the room, a bowl of broth in his hands. As was his custom, Ezmere made no motion to acknowledge Frollo's presence.

"I hear you are refusing food and drink."

Annoyance bit at him as Ezmere remained silent.

Holding the bowl in one hand, he dipped the spoon into the pale broth and held it before Ezmere's lips. He could see they were dry and cracked.

The spoon lingered there and yet still, Ezmere would not eat.

Frollo snorted. This was ridiculous. "I have no intention of letting you wither away before my eyes! You will eat!"

Ezmere stared at the ceiling and did not move.

"Shall I threaten you, Ezmere? What words would convince you to open your mouth?"

Again, he jammed the spoon before Ezmere this time intent on getting a reaction from the boy.

"If you'll remember, I do not need your consent to get things past your lips."

His words had an instant reaction. Ezmere turned a blotchy shade of red and his face contorted with pain, he reached up and hit the spoon out of Frollo's grip. It went sailing across the room and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

Broth splattered Frollo and the bedsheets.

"Go to hell," Ezmere snarled before retreating once more behind his expressionless mask.

Frollo's arm drew back as if to strike Ezmere who did not even flinch.

"Damn you," Frollo seethed. His hand burned where the broth had landed on his bare skin.

He snatched up the spoon and then clamped his hand down on Ezmere's nose, cutting off his flow of oxygen.

"Open your mouth!" he snarled as Ezmere struggled and bucked beneath him. "Open it!"

Ezmere would not and the pair of them locked eyes. Frollo snarled wordlessly down at him, then Ezmere suddenly went limp and his eyes began to roll back into his head. With a terrible gasp of realization, Frollo released him and jumped back as if he had been scalded a second time.

He could hardly see straight for his anger as he stared at Ezmere who was gasping and coughing on the bed.

Frollo clenched his jaw. "I will be back shortly."

His furious path led him out of the bowels of the cathedral and up several flights of stairs before arriving at Quasimodo's room. He threw the door open and stepped inside.

She was sitting amidst the wooden village, her back to him. They had not spoken since that night, over a week ago now.

She stiffened at the sound of his footfalls.

"Come Quasimodo, I have a task for you."

She was the second person of the day to ignore him and it did nothing to ease his temper. Still he forced himself to remain calm. He would treat their impudence with all the tolerance the blessed lady provided him.

"I understand you anger," he began but Quasimodo interrupted in a quaking voice.

"You chained me… You… You hurt him…" She turned wide eyes upon him and asked in a whisper, "Why?"

Frollo studied her carefully. From what he remembered, she had been unconscious for the majority of the drama. He doubted she knew of the kiss or the true nature of what had taken place on the roof. He intended to keep it that way.

"Everything I did, I did to protect you. Once I learned that Ezmere meant to spirit you away, I sent guards to your room. I had them chain you because I knew you could not possibly understand the delicacy of the situation. I did not want you hurt."

She stared at him in confusion and he could see her trying to work through his explanation.

"But…"

"No," he said sharply. "He would have subjected you to a life of misery. The world is cruel, Quasimodo! There is no place for you in it!"

Her face fell and Frollo sensed the shift. She believed him and he was glad for it. He had no more time to waste on her.

Pleased, he continued, "I expect no thanks or reward for my actions, only that you understand and help me with Ezmere."

"He's alive?" she gasped.

"He is, but he is weak and has been refusing food and drink all these days. I need your help getting him to accept and adjust to this new life if he is to stay with us."

Quasimodo's mouth fell open and she gaped at Frollo. "He's staying here? With us?"

"For the time being. I intend to show him the kindness and mercy of our blessed savior. I will change him into a man of God."

"Change him," she echoed. "But you can't…"

She flushed under his stern gaze. "I only meant it seems impossible."

Frollo drew himself up and said imperiously, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

"Yes, Master," she mumbled.

He waved a dismissive hand at her apology. "We cannot give up, you and I. He is counting on us to lead him into the light."

The guards outside Ezmere's room stared openly at Quasimodo with a mixture of revulsion and disgusted pity. She ducked her head low and shuffled inside as quickly as possible.

As Frollo had hoped, the sound of her limping gate made Ezmere actually look up as she approached.

A weak smile danced over his lips though it never reached his eyes. He reached out a hand to touch her cheek and she covered it with her own.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded and Frollo watched as she drank in the sight of Ezmere.

He was so very, very pale and yet it was such a magnificent feeling to even know he was alive.

Suddenly, Ezmere's expression darkened and he looked accusingly at Frollo.

"You said she would leave with Abella! You promised that if I…" He blanched and trailed off.

Frollo slammed the door shut on the guards so they would hear no more. "I'm sure you will understand that there were complications. My first priority was you, Ezmere. Abella ran off the first chance she got and I could hardly sent Quasimodo after her, alone. No, I thought it best she stay."

"I don't want to leave," Quasimodo pipped up. "I want to stay with you!"

Ezmere bit his lip and shifted against the pillow. He winced.

Frollo caught Quasimodo's eye and nodded towards the soup.

After a hesitant look at Frollo, then Ezmere, she cautiously dipped the spoon into the broth and held it before Ezmere.

Ezmere considered her and the spoon before his lips. His brow furrowed and he glared openly at Frollo who felt only a smug pleasure.

They both knew exactly what had been accomplished by bringing the girl down to the room.

As soon as Ezmere opened his mouth to accept the soup, Frollo knew he had won for Ezmere would not refuse a chance to make her happy.

She beamed with pride as he swallowed yet another spoonful, then another and another but around the seventh sip, he turned slightly green and refused anymore.

Quasimodo looked to Frollo in question, who nodded. He was satisfied for the moment.

Basking in his victory, Frollo considered this new development. He had thought the only way to control Ezmere was through threats, pain and abuse but now Quasimodo provided an entire arsenal of leverage. Frollo could only imagine how far Ezmere would go to see such a pitiful creature smile.

This form of manipulation continued on for the next several weeks. If Ezmere ate and drank, Quasimodo was allowed to visit him for an hour after every meal. It was clear that both were miserable and starved for human contact.

Little by little and day by day, the color began to return to Ezmere's skin and the haunted look in his eyes faded. Frollo had expected it to be replaced by a simmering anger, but instead came nothing. He was a shadow of his former self. Even when he was with Quasimodo, his smile did not come easily and it never reached his eyes. There was none of his usual laughter, his joy, his excitement.

This did not matter to Frollo, in fact it made everything easier. An empty vessel was much easier to reshape than one that was full.

It was on this note that he selected three books from his own personal collection and brought them to Ezmere's room. It had been three weeks since he had awoken from his coma and Frollo thought it high time he begin to fulfill his end of the bargain.

He was surprised to find Ezmere not in bed, but sitting at the small, wooden table that stood against the wall. He supposed Quasimodo must have helped him across the room for he was still not strong enough to walk alone.

Frollo placed the books in front of him and said, "I thought you would enjoy a distraction from the pain. These books discuss several issues of morality that I believe you will find interesting."

Ezmere glanced at them, then looked away, uninterested.

"Do you not wish to better yourself? Do you not wish to learn?" Frollo asked when he did not reach for the books.

"I can't read."

"But you have read the Bible. You spoke the scripture," Frollo said with a frown.

Ezmere merely shrugged, then after a moment added, "Marleen read it to me once when I was a boy. I remember the verses."

Frollo sat down opposite Ezmere as he considered this new development.

"You remembered the verses? Even after all this time?"

Ezmere looked as if he couldn't care less that he had impressed Frollo. He took a long, tired breath then recited, "You shall therefore lay up these words of mine in your heart and in your soul, and you shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes."

"Deuteronomy," Frollo breathed. "What a mind you have…"

He went to touch Ezmere's hand but Ezmere quickly moved it off the table.

Ignoring this slight, Frollo carefully evaluated him. He knew exactly what had to be done and yet it had to be approached delicately. If everything went the way he wanted, then this would be the beginning of a new relationship for the two of them.

"If you'd like," he said in a soft, cautious voice, "I could teach you to read."

Ezmere was silent.

Frollo waited with baited breath to see if he would protest and when he did not, he said, "I shall gather the necessary supplies."

When he returned less than an hour later, Ezmere was still sitting at the table.

Frollo arranged the stacks of parchment, ink and quills neatly on the table then sat and said brusquely, "We shall begin with the letters that make up the English language. These are the core of all words both spoken and written."

Dipping his quill into the ink, he then traced a tall and elegant "A" onto the parchment.

"This is the letter A." He explained the sounds it made. He could see Ezmere watching out of the corner of his eye.

Frollo wrote out several words that started with the letter. Anchor, ant, apple.

Ezmere studied the list, his eyes narrowed, then said hesitantly, "Abella."

A sour taste filled Frollo's mouth but he did not let his irritation show. He inclined his head. "Yes."

He wrote the girl's name below the other words then pointed to the B in her name.

"That, incidentally, is the second letter of the alphabet."

He added a B to the line of letters but Ezmere remained fixed on the name of his past lover.

"You said she ran?"

His brow furrowed and he stared at the name with such intensity that Frollo half expected the girl herself to materialize before them.

"Yes. Once I brought you down the ladder and sent Jackson to fetch the doctor, she ran without a backwards glance at you. I fully intended to have her wounds bathed and cared for but she did not give me the chance."

Ezmere was silent as he digested this.

"I never expected her to abandon you in such a state. I thought she would care to know your fate but it seems your life is of little consequence to her."

He continued with his lesson.

It was only when they reached the letter H that Ezmere interrupted, "I don't believe you."

"About what, dear boy?"

"Abella."

Frollo set the quill down and looked to him in question.

"I don't believe that she abandoned me. I think you either killed her or forced her to leave."

"She is not dead, Ezmere," Frollo said sharply.

Ezmere glanced at him. "Either way, I am glad she is free of you."

Despite the unsavory topic of conversation, this was the most Frollo had heard Ezmere speak in weeks and he was eager to savor the sound. If only to keep the conversation going, he said, "I would have let her stay throughout your recovery. I think she would have been a comfort to you."

This made Ezmere snort in derision but the action clearly pained him and he clutched his side. "Don't lie," he said, his eyes watering from the aching wound. "You wanted her gone. You wanted me alone."

"I do not deny that," Frollo said intending to placate him, "but it does not change the fact that she abandoned you."

Ezmere shifted in his chair and a lock of hair fell into his eyes. Frollo reached out to brush it back.

Ezmere went stiff as a board and his hand shot out to grab Frollo's wrist, pushing him away.

They glared at each other, neither one willing to let go.

They stayed locked in the stalemate, frozen like statues until Ezmere's arm began to shake and he was forced to let go.

Defeated, his hand fell limply into his lap and he did not resist as Frollo combed the wayward hair back into place.

On his face was again that terrible, empty and expressionless mask. The muscles twitching in his neck were the only indication of his discomfort.

"What is it, exactly, that you want from me?" he asked, though his jaw was clenched so tightly that it was a marvel he was able to speak at all.

Frollo raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what you mean."

Ezmere flushed and he spat, "Why am I here? Why didn't you just fuck me and let me die?"

"Mind your tone. You are in the house of the lord and you will not spew such venomous words!"

He gave Ezmere a stern glance then took a breath and continued, "I saved you because you deserve more than death even as you ask for it now. What bleak lives you gypsies must live if you would throw away your life with such eagerness."

Ezmere glowered at him. "Yes, my life is bleak now. Every time I see your face, I am consumed by hatred for what you did to Abella and I would rather die than let you turn me into a monster, twisted by eternal loathing."

Frollo slammed a hand on the table, upsetting the ink bottle. "Again you speak of that viper!"

"I love her," Ezmere growled.

With those three words, the temper that Frollo had been fighting to contain the past few weeks surged up and broke past his carefully place barriers. He leapt to his feet and with one sharp motion, he swept the ink, quills and paper onto the ground.

"Never say that again, you ungrateful rat!" he spat, his face turning red with emotion. "I saved your life! Not her! I saved you and lifted you from a life in the slums, a life of sin and depravity Ezmere, and I will be damned if I let that wicked girl hold you back! I love you! She does not! Speak of her no more!"

He stood there with his chest heaving wildly and his own words ringing in his ears.

Ezmere's jaw went slack and he stared at Frollo in complete revulsion.

"You don't love me!" he cried. "This isn't love! This is lust and obsession! You have learned to take by force what you are not given!"

Frollo ignored the insult and lowered his head so his face was inches away from Ezmere's. "If that were true, why did I not simply have my way with you on the roof?"

Ezmere looked more enraged than Frollo had ever seen him. "You did…" he growled.

Frollo laughed cruelly. "Not in the way I wanted. I wanted, I still want… all of you."

The terrible words hung between them. He could see Ezmere's chest heaving with anger. If he had been at his normal strength, Frollo was sure they would have been at blows. Now his injury made him an immobile prisoner.

Frollo walked around the table with slow, deliberate footsteps, stopping once he was directly behind Ezmere.

"What is stopping me from taking you right now?"

Ezmere struggled to rise but Frollo grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head down onto the table and held him there.

Ezmere groaned horribly as his wound was wrenched then his mouth snapped shut and he took shuddering breaths through flared nostrils.

Frollo tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling as he took breaths almost as wild as Ezmere's. No one else made him feel so alive, so acutely aware of the wonders of the world.

"Do it then!" Ezmere gasped. "Just do it and let me go!"

His pleading made Frollo's blood burn with triumph.

"You are here," he said, still keeping Ezmere pinned down, "because I see in you the perfection of our fallen race. You can be saved and redeemed and I will be the one to do it. You owe your life to me and one day you will thank me for it."

It was only then that he let Ezmere go and returned to his seat.

"Please!" Ezmere groaned as he painfully sat up. Tears splashed down his cheek. "I'm not what you say! I can't be what you want!" He trailed off as pain overtook him, then he looked at Frollo with wide and desperate eyes. "I'll do anything you want, you can have whatever you want, just please… please… let me go!"

Frollo closed his eyes and smiled. "Begging? Where is your pride, Ezmere?"

"Gone," Ezmere said, his voice raw. "You have taken everything from me…"

"Do not fear, child," Frollo whispered as he stood and swept towards the door. "The Lord shall provide."

Ezmere's face fell into his hands and his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Frollo saw this and his smile broadened.

Ezmere was broken. It was time to start to rebuild.