Quasi felt like he was in some kind of horrible nightmare, a fog, as he bolted towards the balcony, hoping to catch her before she fell. Jehan was dead, and so was his love. He had nothing left to live for. "Quasi!" came Darius's voice, sounding weak but still present. The bell ringer's gaze drifted towards Jehan's lifeless corpse laying at the bottom of the steps. He let out a guttural growl from the back of his throat and kicked aside the man's boot. "Over here, brother! Hurry!"
"What? What is it, Darius? Can't you see I'm a little busy here?" he barked angrily, his tone dark and eyes lit with rage.
Quasi was not in a patient mood, so the priest had better say his piece, and say it fast, or else Darius Barret would find himself on the receiving end of the bell ringer's temper. His rapidly swelling rage was like a vexing of the soul for what Quasi felt was no human. It was twisted and distorted, but it was something dark and strong. It burned bad, like fire lacing through his veins and creeping up his spine, his skin was a deathly white, far too pale, but all he felt was desire. Desire to hate. "I asked one thing of you, Darius. One."
The bell ringer turned his wrath on Darius, who shirked and tried to shrink back into the pillar as much as his body would allow. Quasi was intoxicated with emotion he had no intention of ever feeling, the acidity of it was residing in his stomach waiting to be spat out of his mouth in foul and vulgar words he would be stared at for saying, except he wasn't going to say them to Darius. No, he'd scream. He was going to scream them with every ounce of breath that dwelled within his lungs if this man did not tell him where Madellaine was.
The former soldier and now priest of Notre Dame sheathed his weapon to the side and knelt beside one of the pillars. He gathered something into his arms and when he stood again, he held Madellaine, who had seemingly lost consciousness and was looking incredibly too pale. She looks like death, Quasi thought, feeling his panicked state rise. He felt his eyes widen and without a further care for what Darius thought of him, he immediately tossed the older man away from him, not even bothering to spare the monk a second glance as his wiry frame collided solidly against the pillar. He didn't give a damn about Darius at this point, anyway. Not when his entire world lay motionless and unresponsive in the arms of Darius.
He quickly drew near to Phoebus and when he was close enough, reached out to take the unconscious brunette from Captain Phoebus.
"Be careful, Quasi," he warned gently as the priest gingerly lifted Madellaine limp form from his arms. "Be sure to support her head."
Quasi sharply met Darius's blue eyes and offered him a withering glare. "I would never harm her, Darius!" he yelled.
Darius's face hardened under the bell ringer's icy gaze, but he did not flinch or shirk away. "I know that, Quasi, but all the same, I don't know how badly Barreau is wounded. It could be much worse than it actually looks," he spat venomously, shaking his head.
Quasi offered him a stiff nod in silent, begrudging agreement and carefully readjusted his arms to further support Sophia's head. It was only when he had a firm hold on her did the priest remove his arms from underneath her slim frame as a means of supporting the girl. Darius moved out of his line of sight and disappeared down a corridor. Sister Alice lingered in the doorway of the south bell tower, deciding to remain in the tower in case he needed her.
When Darius had gone, Quasi directed his attention to the young woman in his grasp. He could not help but notice how limp and almost doll-like Madellaine felt. But it was the slight chill that clung to her skin that was far too pale that frightened him more than anything. She grew so cold. He allowed himself to gently fall against a pillar and using it as a brace, gently lowered himself to the floor. Once he was settled, he balanced Madellaine's body across his thighs, thus allowing the free usage of his left hand, which no longer had to support her knees. Lifting his free hand, he gently tried warmth back into one of her arms. She looked already dead.
Her skin was too pale, absent of any color, her white tinge making her look a corpse. Deep, purple bags had begun to form underneath her closed eyes and beads of clammy sweat clung to her forehead. Luckily or unluckily, however he looked at it, the wound on her right ribcage was facing away from him, which meant the stab wound to her rib cage was not being pressed against him. Of course, this meant her wounded leg and severely broken left wrist now rested between them and it was not until Madellaine tried to move it that he noticed the injury on her arm. The first he felt was the extreme heat that emanated from the appendage and when he gingerly lifted her arm to examine it further, he noticed that the break was in at least two different places, at best.
"Jesus, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice breaking and cracking. He shifted her slightly in his arms, careful to be mindful of her injuries. One hand drifted to her uninjured hand, gripping it tightly, the other finding purchase in her hair, supporting her head against his forearm. "I—I'm so sorry, Lena. I should have…been there for you." A choked sob worked his way up into his throat. This was not supposed to happen. Madellaine should never have risked herself for him. Why had she done it? He was not worth her life. Take it back!
Madellaine should have run as soon as the fighting started. If she had, she would be safe right about now. Safe and unharmed, not lying here in his arms as icy as death and…and…dead. She was gone.
A stray tear slid down his cheek. He was crying for her. The first time in perhaps his entire adult life, Quasi cried, and she wasn't even awake to tease him mercilessly about it. He gently raised a hand and smoothed her hair, brushing strands of her blonde bangs out of her eyes. Madellaine's spirit was gentle, and her very presence was like the sun itself, and without it, his life was nothing. How could he be expected to continue when he would never again see her smile that beautiful white smile of hers. Lifting her limp form just so, he buried his face in her hair, his eyes clenched tightly shut, his teeth rooted gritted in the effort to stay calm. But he couldn't.
The dam broke and suddenly, he felt the tears begin to slide down his face. It was more than crying. It was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person drained of all hope. He cared not for her blood that soaked his robes or stained his palms. His gasping screams echoed around the otherwise empty tower. The pain that flowed from Quasi was as palpable as the frigid winter air and soon the only person at his side was Sister Alice, struggling to keep her own tears silent, looking up to the heavens above. He had to believe that his friend was safe now, comfortable and warm now. To look down at her in his arms would be to imagine her cold, bereft of his hugs and the kisses he should have given her. He…
"I love you, Lena," he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke. Hard, wracking sobs shook his slender frame, yet he no longer gave a damn. Let Alice see. He buried his right hand deeper into her hair and rocked her cold frame back and forth. It hurt him, it physically hurt him, wounded him greater than anything else in his life had.
She was well and truly gone. He sobbed harder, a panic beginning to rise within him, and he felt as if the last remains of his sanity were slowly unwinding. He felt as if someone had plunged their hand into his chest and ripped out his heart. He had lost everything now. Everything that mattered was gone the minute Madellaine Renee Barreau had left this world for the next. "I…I'm…so sorry, Lena. It's all my fault." He didn't know how he was even able to form words. With the amount of pain, he was in at this moment, it shouldn't even be possible. And yet, he knew he had to say something.
Even if she could no longer hear him or respond. He needed to say it. It was all his fault! His fault for being born in the first place. All he had ever caused others was pain and suffering, and now…now death! He had killed a woman. The very woman he cared for above all others. Above his own pitiful and useless life. How could he possibly live with himself now? Madellaine did not deserve to die like this! Not here, alone without her loved ones to surround her and bid her farewell into the afterlife. Without Alice or Marcus to hold her, to love her. He had robbed them of their chance to say goodbye. He was not worthy any of the kindness or care or love Madellaine had chosen to give him. He did not deserve it, not after what he'd done to his only friend. He wanted to hold her and have her hold him back. It was selfish, oh, he knew this. He did not deserve it and yet, he wanted it so badly, it ached! His sobs only intensified as he continued to clutch onto Madellaine's lifeless form closer to him as though his very life depended on her.
Eventually, by some strength he still possessed, he managed to pull away and chance a glance at her face. She was still pale, and her eyes were still beneath their lids, indicating that no movement could be found. Still, in a strange sort of way, she looked at peace and there, upon her lips, was a faint, barely noticeable smile. As if, even though she had been through so much pain, she had a reason to be happy. He raised a trembling hand and gently pressed it to her cold, pale cheek, caressing the smooth, silk like skin there with the pad of his thumb. Without a word, he dipped into the pocket of his tunic and pulled out the simple pair of plain yellow gold wedding bands that Darius had given him. If ever he was to marry …it would have been her, and he told her as much, though he knew she could not hear him, but still, this he needed to say now. "It would have been you," he whispered, choking back a fresh sob as he gently placed what would have been her ring on her left hand. "If—if ever I was to marry you, it would have been you, Madellaine," he sobbed. "Always." More tears flooded his eyes and it was with a heavy heart he knew it to be true. His friend was gone. Dead. She had left this world in a very painful and wrong way. Madellaine, who had been nothing but a gift to this world and to him, was gone because of the cruelty of other people. Quasi's heart gave another painful lurch and then, he had another realization. He was mourning her as if she was the very light of his life. "You are," he whispered, his voice breaking as he stroked her hair. He loved her. There was no trying to deny it anymore. To care so deeply for another that their very absence from the world would leave him crippled and hopeless, unable to envision a life or world without her? To care so much for her that it physically hurt to have her leave. To have this emptiness threaten to swallow him up into a horrible darkness so deep that it would have been better had he not lived at all.
"If this is love, I don't want it."
Now…now that he could understand, could think it for himself, would he be able to—to…say it out loud? Maybe, maybe then, she could somehow hear him and come back to him? "I…" he began, feeling rather unsure and hesitant. Yet, he steeled himself and pushed onward for her. "I…I love you, Lena. More than anything, my friend." Then feeling just, a bit bold, he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was soft and his lips barely touched her skin, yet it was still a kiss. Though Madellaine would say it wasn't a true kiss and that it didn't count were she awake to tease him about such things, to him it was real, genuine, and true. It came from the bottom of his heart and only one person in his life was worth giving it to, and she was here with him, in his arms. He'd keep her that way, as long as he could. He would stay awake with her all night if it meant he'd never have to let her go.
"Quasi, I'm so sorry, but we…I need to take her," whispered Sister Alice tenderly, placing a shaking hand on his shoulder. "She needs to…" The nun's voice broke and she looked away for a moment to compose herself.
He knew what the nun wanted. To prepare her for burial.
"No," he answered immediately, feeling his voice go hard and bitter. "You're not taking her, Alice!" he shouted, feeling his voice rise an octave and his ironclad grip on Madellaine's corpse tightened.
"Jeanne and I need to take her, son. I'm sorry, but she's gone."
Quasi heard Alice's words, but could not, would not, accept that as Madellaine's fate. He had never experienced grief this bad in a long time, not since Claude's death. Horrible judge or not, he'd still been his father. Now, it snuck up on him quietly and took him under its arms in an instant.
Every memory played like a ballad in his head, repeating itself for what seemed like forever. "Isn't it crazy, Alice, when the hand you want to hold is a weapon, and you're nothing without them?" he whispered, clutching one of Madellaine's limp hands in his, bringing his knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss. "She's so cold, Alice. So cold."
The nun gingerly knelt next to Quasi, her back resting against the other side of the pillar, close enough to talk to him, but facing the other way to give the man some semblance of privacy. "What are you feeling?" came Alice's question. Her tone was soft.
"I…" Quasi's voice cracked as he fought back a fresh wave of tears as he brushed back a lock of Madellaine's hair out of her face. "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. I'd go to the end of the world for her, or to the very end of time itself, Alice. It's crazy when the thing you love the most is the detriment. I thought…for so long, Alice, I'd been an enemy of love after I lost Father. My walls have been up for years, but she…she broke them."
Alice let out a sad chuckle, fighting back tears. "She's good at that."
"She is," he agreed, allowing the ghost of a smile to grace his lips. "For so long, ever since the siege, it's…it's felt like I've had to carry around this lie. This horrible secret, Al, and I hate it."
"Which is?" Alice prodded gently. Anything to keep him talking.
"My secret is that I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of Esmeralda and trying to love again." He paused to think for a moment. "Feelings. Jesus." He shifted Madellaine into his arms and held onto her tightly, burying his face in her hair, letting the gentle aroma of jasmine and lavender calm his nerves. "The truth is, Alice, for so long I'd forgotten what those even were. I'd been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep dark cave. And then, Sophia came back into my life, and for the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. At peace. But lately…"
His voice cracked as he glanced down at Madellaine's lifeless body. "I guess I've been feeling…distant from her. Like she's pulling away from me or something. I miss staying up late at night drinking with her, talking with her until sunrise before we doze off. But she's…" His brain would not let him complete that thought. "I guess…this change is what scares me. I—I don't want things to change, Alice."
All it took was another glance down at the young woman in his arms for the tears to come again. Quasi cried as if his brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of his every pore. From his mouth came a cry so raw that even Alice's eyes were wet with tears. From his eyes came a thicker flower of tears than he had cried for even his wife and daughter all those years ago. He had expected to bury Frollo one day, but never his best friend. Alice was talking to him for all the good that it did, trying desperately to calm him. The whole world had vanished for him, now there was only pain enough to break him, pain to change him beyond recognition.
"I know," Sister Alice whispered, brushing back her tears with a flick of her wrist. "But that's just not how life works, boy. It's naïve, to hope that things will never change. It's moving, always moving, whether we like it or not. And yeah…sometimes it's painful. Sometimes it's sad. And sometimes…it's surprising. Happy. Madellaine would have wanted you to be happy. Don't let her death stop you. When life hurts you, because it will, remember the hurt. The hurt is good. It means you're out of that cave." Sister Alice coughed, quelling the hard lump in her throat.
"I won't," Quasi answered thickly, anger and pain laced in his voice. "What happened to Madellaine was my fault, Alice. I—I can't…"
To that, Alice had nothing to say to that. What on earth would she say even? There was nothing that she, or anyone, could say that would comfort the distraught bell ringer. He was lost without her. He felt as though he had lost a huge part of his heart. He could not get that part back and he wanted her so back as his life depended on her, but she was gone. At first, he thought grief was something horrible that took him ten feet under with no hope of escape, but he knew now as he clutched onto Madellaine's lifeless form, that it was simply the price he had to pay for daring to love someone again.