Thanks for the reviews!!!

Work has been busy, I haven't had much time to work on this, but I'm slowly finding the time.

Summary: Esme and Claude have a heartfelt talk and confess some things to eachother. Phoebus has a hallucination. Lots of talk about penis size in this one...primarily Phoebus'(Phoebus has a major insecurity.) If you are offended by a man's insecurity about his size, then I suggest you not read the majority of Phoebus' hallucination.

Preview: A naughty bathtub scene between Esme and Claude. Word of Phoebus' death reaches Claude and Esme.

As always reviews are welcome, flames not so much.

Phoebus slammed the door shut and went back to the damsel who lay on his bed.

"My name…"

He stopped, placing a hand to his head. His head felt funny. A strange feeling washed over him. He forgot everything; his name, where he was.

"I am…"

He fell to his knees in agony, clutching the bed sheets.

"I…I…"

His voice had been reduced to gurgling sounds, as he felt vomit rise in the back of his throat.

"Claude!"

At last Esmeralda remembered who she had once been completely grateful to.

"Claude?"

She looked around, but could not see him. She only saw a man, lying face down in a puddle of vomit. The man had no face, only a hollowed out skull. Her face scrunched up, as if she were about to cry.

"No."

She wanted to turn away and to lean against someone, but no one was in the crypt. She alone sat on the concrete slab with on bodies of those who used to exist.

Claude had heard a loud "thud" coming from the room, but he was afraid to re-enter.

As he entered the bed chamber, Claude watched as Esmeralda's body convulsed, he saw tears being squeezed out of her eyes and could hear faint gasps for help.

"I don't want to die."

He could hear her whisper.

"I am here."

Claude spoke, trying to soothe her. He did not know what else he could say.

Esmeralda's hand rose to feel the soft velvet doublet of the man who had rescued her. Claude winced, unsure of whether this would be another violent moment.

Claude let her hands explore his features, even the gashes on his face.

"Claude?"

She slowly began to open her eyes.

"Yes."

She opened her eyes to see no darkness, no bodies strewn about. She saw her husband standing over her with a worried look on his face.

"I was in a crypt…and there was this horrible man…he appeared dead, but was not. He tried to have his way with me, but I fought to get away from him…and…Claude?"

For the first time she noticed the gashes on his face.

"Did the captain do that?"

She questioned, running her hand over the wound.

"No."

He turned his gaze to the ground.

"I suppose I was the awful man."

He spoke with such dejection and self loathing.

"No. You were the one who saved me! I saw the clothing the other man wore and it was a soldier's uniform."

She pressed her lips to his, happy that he was there to hold her and to comfort her once again.

Claude gently disengaged her lips from his. He did not want her to kiss him, he did not want her to hold him. He could barely look at her. He slinked out of the room, walking past Jehan and Isabeau and out the door.

"What was that about?"

Isabeau questioned Jehan, but all he could do was shrug.

Esmeralda decided to try standing. She felt her legs wobble beneath her and fell. She then saw the captain, lying in a pool of bloody vomit.

"Phoebus?"

She whispered, shaking his shoulder lightly. She was certain she had killed him. She must have struck him, she must have done something to knock him unconscious. This must have been why Claude seemed so angry.

Esmeralda rushed out of the room, nearly tripping over the captain's body.

"Jehan, where is Claude? What happened?"

"He left. Esmeralda, what exactly did you see?"

It was clear to her that something had happened between her and Claude.

"I saw a man who appeared dead. He was trying to have his way with me. He looked like Phoebus…"

She rambled, trying to make sense of what had happened.

"Really? Claude rushed in and you attacked him. Phoebus forced Claude out of the room and was about to have his way with you."

Jehan was visibly angry.

"I saw Claude kill him!"

Jehan wanted to yell and slap her.

"He killed him didn't he?"

Esmeralda wanted to cry, but saw the pure hatred in Jehan's eyes.

"Claude killed Phoebus."

Esmeralda curled her tiny hands into fists and struck Jehan's chest.

"No. No, he did not kill him. But, perhaps he should have. Esmeralda, you act as though you still love the captain."

Jehan's voice was cold and distant.

For the first time Esmeralda was unsure of how she felt. Phoebus had been her first love, and for that reason alone was he important to her. Claude was the man she currently loved and was the father of her children.

"I have to go."

She replied, leaving, trying to catch up to Claude.

Claude had returned home and was bathing in a tub of cool water. He needed to wash away the night's events. He had promised her that he would not kill the captain and he had broken that promise. He felt unworthy of her now and could not foresee her forgiving him this time. He heard an odd knock at the door, followed by the door opening.

"You have every right to be angry with me."

He began, thinking that was why she had come into the washroom. What he never expected was for her to climb into the tub, fully dressed.

"I…I killed him."

Claude looked away from her.

"I gave him wine with…with both the poisons in it."

His voice shook and she could tell that he was on the verge of tears.

"Shhh."

She did not want to hear him speak of how he killed Phoebus. He did so, only to protect her.

"I still think of him from time to time. I think about what if he had come to save me and what if he and I were husband and wife."

She could see Claude expression change from guilt stricken to emotionally bruised.

"You can not tell me that you do not think about what your life would be like now if you had never seen me!"

She let herself cry.

"You can not tell me that you do not think about how happy you could be right now as a priest. And if you were to do so, it would be a lie."

She allowed him to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Yes, I think about him. But I know that if I were his wife, I would not be happy. Just as you know in your heart that if you were still a priest you would be miserable."

She was absolutely right. Even if he had never met her, he would still be searching for something to make him a happy man. He could see in her eyes that despite the fact that she sometimes thought about the captain, she truly did love him.

"If you are angry with me for moments of indiscretion and thoughts I sometimes have about what might have been, then you are very wrong!"

Claude saw the love in her eyes.

"Esmeralda!"

She stopped, letting him speak at last.

"I killed him, not because I thought you still loved him, but because he was trying to take advantage of you and your state of mind."

She felt like a silly little girl, a fool for barging in and blurting everything out.

"And, you are right. There are days when I ask myself what my life would be like if I had never met you. It would be boring and joyless."

He pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

It was getting late, but for the unconscious Phoebus it was a bright, warm and sunny day. He could hear doves cooing and see the bluest sky above him. And all around him there were woman; pretty young women. They laughed and spoke in small groups as he walked by. He recognized one of them, a sweet young blonde woman. And then there was that little brunette he had pursued in Lyon, and the red headed tramp he spent the week with in Provence. He recognized each and every face in this crowd and there was not another man around. It seemed like the average man's paradise! But for Phoebus this was a true Hell. He walked past a small group of three or four girls and could hear small bits and pieces of their conversation.

"He pays well…"

"Yes, but wouldn't it be nice to be paid that well for something you actually enjoy?"

"I wouldn't mind it lasting for more than five minutes…"

"Five? You were lucky then!"

They soon began pointing and laughing; they were pointing and laughing at HIM!

"He was so small!"

He heard one girl blurt out. He looked around and saw the little hussy who had uttered those words. He could only see her pretty blonde hair, it was put up and she wore finer clothes than the other girls. He stomped up to her, grabbing her arm, making her face him.

"And he still is."

This little tart was not a tart at all. This was Fleur-De-Lys who was now laughing in his face. He looked at her in utter shock. He looked into her eyes, searching for an explanation.

"And soft. Oh so very soft."

Phoebus had always prided himself on how he could pleasure woman and how many he was able to pleasure. Fleur-De-Lys seemed to find putting him down enjoyable.

"He can hardly keep it up at all."

She whispered into his ear.

"That is, unless you are some little gypsy girl."

He was visibly wounded by her words, which seemed to be what she wanted.

She laughed anew, looking down at his manhood. For the first time he realized that he was completely nude.

She had always defended him, always stood by his side and now she was taunting him.

"I remember our wedding night."

A deviant smile crossed her lips. For a moment he thought she might have fond memories of that special night.

"I hoped it would be madly passionate and full of love!"

There was a small hint of innocence in her eyes.

"It was quick, lacked passion and three minutes into the act he fell flat!"

She was cruel to him.

"Were you thinking about your little gypsy demon? Could thoughts of her not keep you hard?"

He blushed, not knowing what to say.

"Or perhaps you prefer men."

Fleur-De-Lys mused.

Phoebus was growing irritated with her, but could not find the strength to speak.

Phoebus was not dead. He was still alive. Somehow he had managed to stand and began to walk into the parlor. His legs wobbled and he swayed from side to side, giving him the look of drunkenness.

"I am not small!"

He bellowed, sword in hand.

"And the reason I can't keep it up is because…because…"

He felt something bubbling in his stomach and that bubbling migrated up into his throat and mouth. His mouth opened, spewing a red vomit on the Persian rug next to Fleur-De-Lys' feet.

She looked at him with disgust.

"Because you were a nagging little virgin!"

He wiped the vomit from his lips and pointed the sword at her.

"Do you know why I married Claude?"

Another familiar voice and lovely face to match. He turned around to see Esmeralda standing there.

Her dark hair stood out against the blue sky.

"I married Claude because you weren't enough of a man for me."

She walked up to the captain, taking the holster he held and lovingly examined it. Grabbing hold of the hilt of the sword she withdrew it. She snorted, holding a tiny poniard dagger. She threw the dagger and the holster to the ground, tossing her hair. She stood there, waiting for someone. Phoebus watched as Claude walked up behind her and pressed himself against her, placing his hands around her waist and kissing her neck. She closed her eyes and swooned in ecstasy.

Phoebus could hear Claude chuckle. He was mocking him.

"Besides, Claude's is bigger than yours, much bigger."

Esmeralda giggled, wrapping her arms around Claude's neck and pressing herself against him.

Her laughter echoed through his mind and surrounded him.

Phoebus watched as Claude gently let go of his wife and calmly walked over to him. He clapped his hand on the captain's shoulder and whispered something into his ear.

"You couldn't even keep the interest of a virgin."

Phoebus felt something sharp enter between his ribs. Gasping for air and clinging to Claude's doublet Phoebus hung onto the last shred of his life. He reached for his sword, but realized now that his sword and holster were a few paces away and out of his grasp.

The swirling sense Phoebus had once had was disappearing. He could hear voices all around him and each one was recognizable.

"Phoebus!"

He heard his beautiful wife shout, but could not react. He wanted to take hold of her and reassure her that he would be alright, but he couldn't. He would not be alright, he would not wake up, he would not rush to Fleur-De-Lys' side and comfort her. He was dead.