Chapter 25:

His feet traced countless steps while Phoebus faded in and out of consciousness. The pain was throbbing in his back, but something tightly wound around him told him that he'd received a bandage at some point.

Priests were leading them through corridors, or at least he could smell incense and heard various references to holy things whispered with anxious breaths.

"He has sanctuary," Esmeralda told someone, "I heard him say it when we got in."

Well, that was probably a lie, but he'd lied for her, as well, so he felt no guilt.

Then they were ascending, and he wondered if he were being dragged up to haven while his feet automatically moved along with those feet on either side of him.

Finally she heard Esmeralda whisper, "I'll be back soon, I promise," and leave him to open a door.

Phoebus longed for the return of her warmth and her steady assurance the instant she was gone.

"Quasi?" he heard her ask before he blacked out again.

When next he awoke, it was to find the blurry face of Esmeralda hovering over him. He wanted to explain to her why he had participated in Frollo's purge, but she shushes him with a finger to his lips before he could utter a word.

He took stock of himself, as he was so distant from his body he could hardly feel it.

Everything seemed… warmer…

He was lying on something soft, and his muscles sighed with the release of tension. He no longer had to stand, no longer had to stay upright. Esmeralda had lain him on his chest, so that she could tend to the wound on his back, and her hands were quickly working to first undo the bandage she'd put on him, and then to pull up his tunic so that there was no barrier to his wound.

"Esmeralda…" he whispered, looking up at her from the one eye that could see her.

"Shh," she spared one finger from her work to shush his lips again. "You'll stay here until you're strong enough to move. You're in good hands, now, I know you'll be safe."

"Your hands weren't all that terrible," he smirked at her.

She smirked back at him, but in flickering candlelight, he could still see concern in her eyes. She placed one warm hand against his cheek, and he wondered how he hadn't noticed how cold he'd been. "I'm doing all I can… that family owes you their lives… you're a hero, Phoebus."

He noted a hint of something like worship in the way she said his name. It was so endearing…

"That's really the first time I've felt like one," he admitted while he felt her hands shifting at the wound on his back.

That bastard Frollo, of course he'd know just where the joints in his armor were.

"Nonsense, you're a war hero," she said gently.

He snorted. "Ask the Italians. They'll say something different… They're Catholics just like us, you know? They didn't do anything… they were just… we were hired to…" He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't afford to lose it right now.

"Italians?" she asked softly, but when he looked at her, she must have seen something in his eyes that convinced her not to ask again. "I'm going to stitch you up. It's going to hurt, but it's better than bleeding out," she told him.

"I can take it, I've had worse," he said, flashing her his best debonair smile.

When he saw her take a wine flask from someone, he grinned all the broader. "Great! I could use a drink!"

She seemed distracted at first, but she looked him over and offered him a sip of it.

He grimaced even as the alcohol burned its way through him and he recognized its bouquet. "Ah!" he coughed before Esmeralda poured the rest of the wine out on his back wound, at which point he cried out once more. "1470 Burgundy…" he grimaced at the taste, but yet it was still somewhat comforting in its familiarity. "Not a good year…" he coughed.

"It's the best I can do," she said apologetically, and he was sorry for his ill-conceived joke.

"I just mean… sorry, I wanted to lighten the…" he grunted as the needle slipped in and out of his flesh.

"I understand," she said, bending to snip the end of the thread with her teeth. "You know… of all the soldiers I've seen… you're either the bravest or the craziest."

He snorted, and rolled his eyes. "At this point I believe I'm an ex-soldier, remember? I am meant to be dead… dishonorable discharge after all that I tried to build… my family will be so pleased."

"I'm sorry… I've dragged you down with me, and you've dishonored your family…" her hand was trembling on his wound, but he took it and rolled over despite the tremendous effort it required.

"I've done an awful lot of things I'm not proud of," he told her softly, gazing up into her brilliant emerald eyes. "But that? What I've done tonight? I wouldn't change a moment... well," he cocked his lopsided grin at her, "except for the moment I got stabbed… that could have gone better."

"For everyone," she nodded. "How does your wound feel?"

"You've done a great job with me," he said, and pressed her hand to his heart.

"At least Frollo had bad aim, he didn't hit anything important. He could have pierced your heart."

His lips twitched into a smirk. "He missed, but Cupid didn't," he said, instantly regretting the mythology reference as it may not transfer.

Regardless of whether she caught his reference, she leaned closer, and he wasn't about to waste that opportunity.

Their kiss burned with the passions which had been building silently in their hearts for the past days, nearly knocking Phoebus out of consciousness with its ferocity. Instead he propped himself up on one elbow as he felt Esmeralda lean against his chest so he could feel how they had begun to share the same racing pulse.

If only it could last an eternity… but alas, the haze was pulling Phoebus back, and he was aware that as un-heroic as he was bound to look, he was about to need a nap in just a few moments.

"Sleep…" he heard Esmeralda whisper to him through the creeping haze, with her palm pressed to his cheek. "I need you to regain your strength soon… things aren't getting any easier out there…"

He nodded as he sank back against the pillow beneath him, dreams of her dancing in his mind, as if they were back at his little house, sharing an evening together untroubled by the outside world… he fell into this so easily, he was not prepared for the rude awakening which lay ahead.