Darius had long learned it was pointless to get Sister Alice to change her ways. One of the cathedral's eight resident nuns who maintained their residency within the church itself, was nearing her fiftieth year and staring pensively up at the statue of the Virgin Mary from the back of one of the empty pews. She and her twin sister, Jeanne, were perhaps the only nuns in the cathedral that chose to discard the traditional nun's habit and coif, instead opting for a set of plain black woolen robes that she accentuated with a simple gold braided rope belt around her slender waist. Her gray hair was pulled back into a loose French braid as she surveyed the two from afar.

"What does she want with our boy, Father? Oh, you don't think this little blonde our boy's taken quite a liking to, she's not a Frollo supporter, is she? Lord knows there are still a few of those."

At that, Darius nearly spat out his wine and choked. "NO!"

"She's got some humor to her, doesn't she, Darius," Alice chortled over the rim of her goblet of wine. Darius felt a hot feeling beginning to swell within the pits of his stomach as he thought over this sudden admission that he suddenly began to feel very...protective of the young Barreau woman. He couldn't explain it, nor did he want to.

"Uh, yeah. So funny. Too bad he can't talk to a girl to save his life." He winced at the dark look the nun shot him. "That was inappropriate. Sorry," Darius mumbled, averting his gaze, though he knew his tone wasn't sorry.

Alice, for her part, remained unconvinced. "Uh-huh," she muttered, deciding to drop it for now, returning her attention to the two seated at the head of the nave, staring up at the Virgin Mary statue. The nun regarded Father Darius Barret in silence for a moment.

She scoffed at the look of longing in the priest's eyes. She'd known all along that the man wanted her, this girl who had mysteriously come into their lives, but why, she didn't know, though she had a feeling she could guess. But he would never act on it. "Looks like it's up to me," she sighed wearily, draining the rest of her goblet in one swig, earning a quizzical look from Father Darius, though he chose not to comment. "She really is quite a pretty little thing, isn't she, Darius?" asked the nun, pouring herself a fresh goblet from the flagon at her feet."No wonder our boy's taken such a shining to her."

"Yes, she is," Darius grunted darkly, not liking where the sister seemed to be leading this conversation. "What are you playing at?"

"Do you think she'll teach him?" came Alice's question, innocently enough, though Darius knew by now not to be fooled by her antics.

"ALICE!" he shouted. "Knock it off! Leave them be, woman!"

"I was only trying to reiterate your little friend is far too gorgeous not to have had a suitor or two throughout her life. I know she's quite the looker. That boy that she met her first night here, Phoebus's cousin, Frederic. Are they still together, or did she finally come to her senses and go for our gallant Sun God, Phoebus?"

That did it. Darius could not stop the angry yell that escaped past his lips. Never had such a man's name sounded like a curse coming from Alice. Startled by the priest's outburst, the pair turned to look towards the source of the noise that had disturbed their talking.

Alice shoved her knuckles into her mouth to keep from erupting into a bout of wicked laughter. "What?" she whisper-hissed lowly, folding her arms across her chest as she set her goblet by her feet.

"That was rude!" snapped Darius, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks as he gingerly waved Quasi over to where the bell ringer was never a light sleeper and spent most of his evenings wandering the lonely corridors and hallways of the cathedral.

"Oh, please," she snorted, rolling her eyes. "You know it to be true. The boy's been alone all twenty plus years of his life, and we knew Esmeralda was never his type! The girl didn't do well inside stone walls and now she's dead and buried, six feet underground, so he's certainly not going to get any attention from her."

"Now is hardly the time to discuss it!" protested Darius wildly.

She lowered her voice an octave and stifled her laughter as Quasi finally spotted the pair of them talking and sauntered over, a suspicious look in his eyes.

"Alice, Father," replied the bell ringer rather formally, somewhat stiffly. The pair noticed affectionately that his gaze kept drifting to the young midwife, and then back to Darius, as if to gauge his reaction. "What are you two still doing up? It's late, shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Oh, you know…we couldn't sleep, so Darius here is joining me for a drink," Alice replied coyly, lifting her goblet, noticing Sophia's eyes light up and immediately she searched for a second seat to sit.

Darius snorted, rolling his eyes. She'd never been one to turn down a drink, in all their years of their friendship. "Join us, love."

But he shook his head. "No. No, I—I don't drink," he mumbled.

Alice quirked a delicate brow the bell ringer's way but made no remark. The bell ringer quickly bade them all goodnight, leaving them alone. "He doesn't talk much, does he? He's a listener."

All Darius could do was nod in agreement. They didn't know how long they sat, just making idle conversation, but Darius knew he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. This. This felt right, true, if Alice was by his side. She was very much like a mother to him, and reminded him of her before his mother had fled from his life when he was sixteen. Content to watch the raging thunderstorm outside one of the beautiful stained-glass windows, Father Darius knew that in a storm it could be tough to recall the light, hard to see the temporary nature of such beasts. When the raging deluge was closer to your own skin than the air, when it thundered louder than any bird could ever sing and pushed harder than boat oars in the sea waves—it could only burn itself out. Storms came masquerading as knife and coffin, yet were neither, they were more, like a teacher professing tough love who dared to cross the line. Sophia's own father Marcus had taught Darius to learn to shelter through the gales, to seek refuge within the rage, yet do reflect and embrace the gifts he could discover when it vanished, that was when he would find a new chance to flourish.

To make something good after its passing.

"Alice!" came Jeanne's voice, jolting the sister out of her thoughts. "I need you!" Her voice sounded terse. Whatever it was, it sounded urgent. Exchanging a quick glance, both Darius and Alice bolted from their seats in the pew and hurried over towards one of the other statues of the saints. "Oh my God!" whispered Alice, beside herself.

Darius was first to arrive, kneeling on the black and white checkered floor and gingerly lifted Madellaine's unconscious form in his arms.

"Be sure to support her head," cautioned Alice, to which the handsome priest shot Sister Alice a dark look.

"I would never harm her, Alice!" Father Darius snapped, looking offended at the very suggestion that he might. "What happened, Jeanne?" he demanded hotly.

"I don't know," confessed the other nun, a furtive, guilty look in her green eyes. "I...I found her passed out like this. Looks like she broke two of her fingers. We'll have to re-set the bones back in place. I suggest we take her back to one of the spare cloister cells and do it there while she's still passed out. She won't feel it," she added darkly, noticing the dawning look of horror in their priest's blue eyes. "We need to hurry!"

Darius nodded, not hesitating and broke into a light jog, being careful not to jostle her limp form in his arms too terribly much. Only one thought was on his mind as he gingerly set her on the spare cot once they'd reached one of the open cloister cells. That man from the confessional did this to you, sweetheart. I just know it.

This girl was in grave danger, and he wasn't sure what he could do to protect her.

"That smug son of a bitch, this is all that bastard's fault! If he dares to show himself on our doorstep again, I don't care what he looks like, I'll kill him myself! I hope he burns in Hell! She—she almost died because I didn't stay close!" bellowed Darius, drowning his own sorrows in what had to have been his third glass of red wine from Alice's stores.

The two cousins focused their attention on the distraught priest in front of them. The bell ringer was once again ringing his bells. In his haze, the priest couldn't discern what message they were echoing throughout the darkened streets of Paris, nor did he care. It was late. Far too late for any respectable person to still be up at this ungodly hour, yet here he was, drinking away his sorrows and ranting to anyone who would listen. In this case, Jeanne and Alice. "She never should have been allowed to wander off alone like that! What in God's name was Madellaine thinking, going off on our own? She—she almost died tonight, because of me. I—I don't understand! Why did she do it? She shouldn't have done it!"

"But she did," spoke up Jeanne quietly. "You mean so much to her, Father, I can see it in her eyes. It's time you saw it too."

As the distant clanging continued, Darius downed his goblet of wine, shuddering as the alcohol burned going down his throat.

The image of the young, sweet Barreau girl looking worse than death on the floor of the nave would haunt him for perhaps the rest of his life. "She should have stayed by me! I could have—I could have protected her, but she wandered off!" He quickly brought the rim of the wine bottle in his hand up to his mouth. It was empty. With a frustrated shout, he flung the bottle across the room, startling the sisters, where it struck the opposite wall and completely shattered. He wasn't concerned.

Alice was the first to recover. "That might be the first time I've seen you truly lose control over a woman, Father. You care for her," she said carefully, minding her choice of words.

"More than you know," he answered quietly. "She—she means more to me than I can put into words, Sister," he snapped.

Darius sighed, reaching for another bottle to pour a fresh glass. No matter how much he drank, she always managed to seep into his thoughts. Madellaine, this girl with the beautiful blonde hair the color of golden wheat. Her sharp eyes that never missed a thing, capable of counting the flaps in a hummingbird's wing, and steadfast determination. She had been his light that broke through the fog that war had cast over him, and Hanna's death, he'd suffered greatly until she had quite literally walked into his life. And what had he done to save her? Nothing. Not a damn thing. Darius closed his eyes and tried to push away the pain of an oncoming headache. Pain, either physical or psychological, was all he felt these days. Heartache at losing his baby girl, and now faced with the thought of losing the only new friend he had left. He couldn't bear the thought. He tried to numb it with alcohol, but to no avail. It never left him. His memories kept ripping at him, tearing into his heart and mind and very soul, always whispering the same name repeatedly, whether he liked it or not. She's all you have left. He heaved a strangled, choking sob and struggled, as it turned into a coughing fit. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he grasped a nearby chair to steady himself and felt his shoulders relax as he felt Jeanne come up behind him and support him, helping him to stand.

"What's your story, Father?" she asked, quirking her brow at the priest. "It's obvious you're hiding something from Alice and I, you've been with us a year and still, we know so little about you. It's clear to us, you and this girl, there's something there between you two, and judging by the look in your eyes, you can't imagine life without her, so what is it? It's obvious to me she's so much more than your best friend."

Darius felt the last of his strength give out as he collapsed into a chair, rubbing his temples wearily. Dare I tell them the truth? One look at their faces was more than enough. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and choosing to focus his gaze at a spot on the wall behind Alice's head. "I had a wife once. And a baby girl. Only good thing besides Sophia in a bad life that was taken away from me. When they were gone, I—I didn't know what to do, so I joined the French army with Marcus Damas and one day, something in me changed. I don't know…"

"The girl," nodded Jeanne quietly, agreeing. "If there's one thing that will make men give up acts of violence, it's a woman. So how did you become Darius the Destroyer, then? Don't you give me that look, you're famous all throughout Europe, boy."

Darius fell silent for a moment, thinking. "You know, it's funny, now that you say that," he murmured quietly. "Before, before I was a soldier, I would often go for rides on my horse when Sophia and I were younger, shortly after my first wife's death. It was the only way I could clear my thoughts. And I'd get this—this feeling that…something was behind me, a presence. Almost as if…as if it were waiting for me to become it. Darkness." Darius shot Jeanne a dark look but continued. "Sophia is all I have left of my old life, and…" he hesitated, unsure if he should continue. "You're right in that there is…something there, but I can never act on it," he admitted, looking pained. "Not now. Her parents wish us to marry one day, but…"

"Why not?" challenged Alice hotly. "You have a choice."

"I don't want to ruin what she and I have," he confessed, averting the sisters' piercing gaze, suddenly uncomfortable. "If I were to ever act on my urges one day, everything would change, and I can't risk losing my Sophia's friendship. I just can't."

"No offense, Father, but that's a bunch of bullshit."

Alice chirped up, taking a softer approach. "You will never know how Sophia feels unless you take a chance and ask her. If you don't, don't come crying and complaining to us if she marries someone else one day because you were too much of a coward to confess your love," she added, as an afterthought. "Anyways, what of this girl?" asked Alice.

"I...she looks so much like my Hanna, it's unsettling," Darius confessed, and yet feeling relieved to have finally lifted this burden of carrying such a heavy secret the past few weeks. "I know that she and our bell ringer are becoming quite close, and it would be wrong of me to interfere in that regard, but I care for her too. She's...beautiful."

"Oh, look at that, Al, we've made him jealous," snorted Jeanne, rolling her eyes and draining her goblet. "It's charming."

"I won't have Madellaine in harm's way any longer," growled Darius darkly, standing shakily to his feet. "She means too much to me to ever have her put her life at risk again. I can't lose her. Not when she's the only thing that reminds of the only good thing left in a world that's dark and cruel to us all."

"What are you going to do about it?" asked Jeanne.

He fixed them both with a hard stare. "Not let her go."