Chapter 11
The room was cold and his shoulder was burning. That was all he could feel or think about for a while.
Well, besides worrying like an idiot about Winry.
And wondering where he was, but he pushed that to the back of his mind and waited for the pain to go away.
It started to when the old man was finished stitching up his wound and started binding it. The pressure helped a little bit.
When the old man was done, Ed sat up and looked around. "Where am I?" he asked, and his voice was level, and he was glad he didn't sound scared.
"You're in the top of Notre Dame's bell tower." the man says neutrally. "I am Archdeacon Marcoh."
"I'm Edward Elric."
"The soldier boy." It's not a question.
"Yeah." He remembers something fuzzy, a voice maybe. "Is anyone else up here?"
"Just Quasimodo." Marcoh says. "He rings the bells. You'll have no trouble from him."
"Uh-huh." Ed says, not convinced. "And where is he?"
"Hiding, I'd assume. He's lived here all his life-you can't expect him to be comfortable around another person."
"All his life?" Poor kid.
"Judge Cornello-" –and there is a definite tightness in Marcoh's voice- "-found him on the steps of the church as a baby. After I informed him that the civil Christian thing to do would be to take the baby in, he agreed, and Quasimodo has rung the bells here ever since."
He doesn't know what to think about that. It's weird to say the least, horrible to say the most. Leaving a kid up here to grow up all alone?
"Is he, you know, okay?" he asks the old man doubtfully. He doesn't want some crazy kid lurking in the corners of the tower, especially when he can't run away, being hurt like this.
"If you're questioning his sanity, I assure you he's fine. However, he refuses to let people see his eyes. Don't question it, just let it go."
"His eyes? Something I can sympathize with, I guess." Ed says, frowning. He's wearing his contacts now, but imagine if he hadn't been. He wouldn't have been in a house of God recovering from an arrow wound, anyway.
"He has been told all his like that he has demon's eyes and that if he looks at anyone with them he will infect them with evil. I've never even seen them-I doubt he has seen then, either. There are no mirrors here in the tower. It would not be a stretch for Cornello to tell him that his eyes were odd when they are truly just a normal boy's eyes-but that is just a speculation." Marcoh sighed. "But do not try to get him to remove his covering. He won't do it."
"I bet I could-"
"I tried once. He is always so kind, but he hit me, and scratched, and bit. After, he said that he couldn't bear it if he infected me." Marcoh shook his head. "Believe me, it is a much better idea to leave things as they are."
"Winry!"
Ten voices shout for her the moment she enters the Court.
"Where's Ed?" Rose demands, pushing to the front.
"In the bell tower…? He, uh, claimed sanctuary…" Winry stammered, trying to draw a breath through the tight hug Rose was giving her.
"Mon Dieu, Winry, have I taught you nothing? The safest place is with family! You need to take him here!" Rose said, jerking a hand through her bangs.
"I got him to Quasi. Quasi'll look after him." Winry protested, and Rose relaxed a little, but not so that she looked calm.
"Winry, what if the Judge goes into the tower? Hadn't you thought of that? He is in the church so often! He will find them, and we shall all be doomed!" Rose was slowly working herself into a state. Tobias put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently, and she yanked away.
"Well?" Rose demanded. "Did you think of that? Did you think at all?"
"I did what I could." Winry shouted, a hand twisting in her skirt. "He was hurt, Rose. He was hurt. He got shot, with an arrow, he got shot and he needed help, some real help, not this lot of gypsies in this cold, empty, stone tunnel."
"Don't say such things!" Rose shouted back. "This is our home-"
"He would have died." Winry screams, fisting her fingers in her hair and tugging, mad with worry. "What did you want me to do, Rose? He would have died down here in the cold and you know it."
Rose stopped. She looked like she wanted to yell-wanted to yell and scream and berate Winry for not thinking about this, about her options, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"I see." Rose said, and Winry heard how tired her friend was, how tired all the worrying had made her.
"I see." Rose repeated, her voice cracking, and Winry reached out to her friend and pulled her close, and when Rose fully relaxed against her she realized how incredibly scared Rose had been these past weeks.
"Mon Dieu, Winry." Rose said into her shoulder. "You have taken so many risks for this boy. Every time you left, I thought you would never come back. That you would die like your parents, just a scream in an alley with no one to hear. And I don't want that for you, I don't! But I don't want you to be unhappy, and so all I need to know is this-is he worth all this?"
"Yes." Winry whispered. There was nothing else to say. And, God, maybe she wished that things would make themselves okay, but they wouldn't. And all this boy had was a misguided soldier who couldn't truly stand up for those who deserved it, and he has her. And she couldn't fail him.
(And, yes, maybe she was a little bit in love with him. Or perhaps a lot. But, by God, she would save him, save them all, if it was the last think she ever did.)
Rose nodded at her yes, as though it was the answer she'd been expecting. "Well, then." she said. "What is it we are going to do?"
Winry felt a rush or relief as she saw that everyone, every gypsy in the Court, was listening.
Gypsies fought and bled for one thing-other gypsies. They protected their own, and ever since Ed had visited, they'd know he was one of them-and they would protect him.
And knowing that, Winry felt overthrown with the force of her relief, knowing that Ed had so many people ready to fight for him.
She also realized, with a jolt, how very tired she was. he felt herself wobble, and Rose laughed, sounding choked.
"You are going to sleep." Rose said gently. "And when you wake, we will rescue Edward, should he need it."
Winry fell asleep with her head on Rose's thigh, the older girl stroking her hair, the low murmur of voices rocking her, soft, to sleep.
Quasimodo watched the boy-Edward-with careful eyes. Not for the first time in the last few minutes, he checked his scarf to make sure it was secure. It wouldn't help matters if he infected the boy he was protecting for Winry.
Said boy was currently asleep, a marvel due to the pain he must have been in, but Quasi had checked and he was not passed out, so he must be sleeping. He snored softly, and Quasi would have thought this was irritating, but right now, he didn't mind the company. The boy's shirt was pushed up with one hand as he slept, his stomach out, and he looked peaceful, sleeping like that, and not as old.
He looked like a boy, sleeping, not a man. Even in his ragged uniform.
He started awake, and Quasi recognized the signs of a bad dream easily. He checked his scarf reflexively and then went to him, wanting to help somehow, not knowing if he could.
The boy's eyes were open. They were an inky black that didn't really fit with his gold hair, or his pale skin. Quasi watched him for a moment, puzzling, but when the boy tried to sit up, he spoke.
"Don't. Your arm is still hurt." he said, and they boy's eyes flashed to him.
"Are you Quasimodo?"
"Yes."
"You're the one who saved Winry from that fire at the festival."
"Oh. Yes." he said hesitantly.
"I was there. I wanted to help, but I didn't know her yet and I couldn't attract suspicion, being a soldier was my best chance of-anyway. Thank you. For saving her." The boy sat up, carefully, and Quasi didn't try to stop him this time. And once he was sitting up comfortably, the boy held out a hand. "I'm Ed."
Quasi took his hand and shook it warily, not bothering to repeat his own name.
"Is Win back yet?" Ed asked, looking around hurriedly as though Winry would burst from a closet somewhere. Quasi marveled at the easy way he said her name. 'Win', like they'd known each other for years apon years.
"No." Quasi said quietly, knowing there was fear in his voice and hating himself for it. "I'm sorry, she didn't-"
"Damn it." Ed said, flopping backwards, his head hitting the wall with a worryingly loud clunk. "Damn it." he hissed again, rubbing the back of his head.
"Be-um, be careful." Quasi said cautiously. This did sort of explain why Winry had been so worried, he assumed, for Ed seemed like he hurt himself quite easily.
"Yeah, yeah." the boy said, waving a hand. "I got it." He then started to stand.
Quasi watched and caught him by the elbows when he tipped forward. "You need rest."
"No way. I've gotta find Winry-the other gypsies-my brother-everyone needs me."
Quasi frowns. "You won't be any use when you can't even stand."
Ed set his jaw and Quasi could tell that he was prepared to argue more, to yell and scream and generally make it very difficult to force him to stop trying to leave the tower and help Winry. But that changed in a second when Quasi heard three bells ring a floor below-Marcoh's signal.
His mind went blank and he began to shake, remembering the hit to his face earlier, so scared he felt odd and separated from the world, like there was a layer of silence between him and anything else.
It wasn't truly rational to be so scared-it had been only one hit, and if need be, Quasi knew how to run-but the boy in the bell tower was slowly learning that fear was never rational. It took all it could and came back for more, unless you learned to fight it.
Ed was still here. He realized it dully, through the layer, and it shook him out of his stupor.
"Hide." he mumbled hoarsely. Then, speaking louder, he said it again, Ed looking at him like he'd gone mad, and perhaps he had. "Hide!"
"You're shaking-what-"
"Cornello is coming." he said, and watched the fear spread over Ed's pale face. "Hide!"
"Where?" Ed hissed, whispering as though the evil old man was outside the door at that very moment.
Quasi's eyes darted across the room. There were no niches, no places to hid a young man with a hurt shoulder, and he thought wildly that maybe he could hide, he could go out on the roof and Ed could pretend to be Quasimodo, let his hair out of its braid and-
A table. The room had a table, where he ate, where he carved.
"Under there." he said, pointing shakily.
Ed glanced at it like he would protest, then quietly eased himself under, wary of his injury.
Quasi straightened up quickly, tugging at the cloth that lay across the table, the cloth covered in wood shavings and chunks of wood from his carvings. "I'm sorry." he said. "Don't make a sound."
He muttered it to himself, walking around wildly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" until he didn't know who he was saying it to, just saying it for something to say-
He stopped, and took a deep breath. "It's going to be fine." he muttered to himself.
"Who on Earth are you talking to, boy?"
The voice was deceptively pleasant. Quasi turned slowly.
"The gargoyles." he said. "My friends."
"But they are not real, are they, boy?" Cornello said lightly, and Quasi nodded, knowing the routine, they'd done this before.
"No, they're just stone." he said. "Just stone. Not real friends." He tightened a fist, pretended to be angry. "And that gypsy wasn't my true friend either. She did not come back. She lied."
"You must stop chasing silly dreams, my boy. No one would be your friend. Not truly. You are cursed, after all." A hand on his shoulder, tight. Too tight.
"Yes, Master." he whispered, trying to sound remorseful. "You are right, Master. You are always right."
Oh, God, please God, have mercy, don't let him look under the table, please God don't let him look, I know I don't deserve it but they do, please, God, Winry does, and Ed, and please, please save them. Quasi begged, wishing he could fold his hands and pray properly, the way Marcoh had taught him, and he added a prayer for Marcoh, too, remembering a day when the old man had told him he was loved by God and taught him to pray even if Quasi had never believed it, but it was nice to know, you know, that someone thought so.
"How am I to fix it, Master?" he asked, trying to keep Cornello distracted. "How do I prove myself to God? I want to be worthy. I don't want to be a demon."
He wouldn't mind staying one if he could have friends. Gypsies. He would run away with the gypsies. He kept thinking that, rolling it over in his head, a decision he hadn't known he'd made but one that now seemed to be the obvious one.
Cornello's hand was tight on his shoulder, still.
"There is no way. You are cursed. You will always be what you are." Cornello implanted false sadness into his tone. "You must stay here. Always. We cannot run the risk of infecting the people of this city, can we?"
"No, Master."
Keep your head bowed. Be good. Don't do anything too sudden. You have never known anything but this. Think how you used to, when this was all there was in the world.
He fought to keep his body lax, to not tense up. Cornello would notice. He noticed everything.
He let his shoulders slump as though he was disappointed by what Cornello had told him, and then the old man let him go. For one blessed moment Quasi thought maybe he was leaving, but then he walked over to the table.
Oh, no. Ed was under the table. Ed was under the table.
Don't let him see you afraid. He'll-he'll realize and then you're done for and-
"Sit down, dear boy." Cornello said, holding out a hand, and sitting down at the table. "I have brought food."
"T-thank you, Master." Quasi said, sitting down at the table and taking a piece of bread. He tried to eat some, but it felt like metal going down his throat, too dry and cold and sharp to be food.
"Are you all right, my boy? You do not seem hungry."
"I am f-fine, Master." he said. Please don't look under the table.
He heard the worst noise of his life. A soft, quiet sneeze.
And Cornello, looking at Quasi in fake concern, could tell easily that the sneeze had not come from him.
Oh, God, please, no.
A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry this took so long to get up. I've been busy like you would not believe.
And I hope no one's too mad about the cliffhanger, lol.
I think there's only a few more chapters until this is done! Until then, please R&R.
Also, I own nothing but plot.
Much love, Ninjee