Breakfast the following morning was a rather sordid affair, with neither Darius nor Quasi speaking much to her. She knew both men were still angry with her for sneaking out of the cathedral. Jehan had been following her the better part of the morning, taunting her. He followed her all the way back up to the north tower loft as she carried a bowl of porridge and a fresh flagon of ice water. Her husband had, again, collapsed from his injuries, still too weak to do anything beyond his normal scope of his duties. He would need all the help she could provide for him, and after the events of last night, she owed him. He had been right. She could no longer risk her life or their baby's. Madellaine could feel the fear crawling in the pit of her stomach. She could not concentrate on anything else. Her heart started to beat harder and faster, her adrenaline levels rising to dangerous levels. Her heart felt as though it crawled up from deep within her chest. Negative thoughts kept coming to her like waves crashing against rocks, dashing and destroying any hope or positivity she might have had. She couldn't take it anymore and began pacing their bedroom irrationally. The arguments in her head got so fast and so disturbing that her brain shut down her body. She collapsed into a nearby chair at their bedside and stared at her husband's sleeping form, his chest slowly rising and falling as he dreamed in his sleep. Sweat formed and completely covered her forehead, and her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest. The sadness flowed through her veins and deadened her mind. It was a poison to her spirit, dulling her, killing off her other emotions until it was the only one that remained. It was as if a black mist had settled upon her and refused to shift and dissipate, no matter how bright the day was, she would feel no sun and hear no bird song this morning.

For the world was lost to her, and the only thing that would bring it back into focus for her was for her husband to make a full recovery, to wake up from his deep sleep and color to return to his face. At least his lips aren't blue anymore, so that's something.

"What good it does him," snarled Jehan mockingly, as if he could read her very thoughts, startling her as he materialized in front of her, kneeling beside their bedside, reaching up a strong hand and feeling her husband's pulse. "What if he dies? What then? You'll be all alone, just me for company."

"Shut up, Jehan," Madellaine snapped, glaring at him.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's like I keep telling you. You won't be rid of me."

Ignoring Jehan's cruel smirk, she turned her attention back to Quasi, who slept despite her outburst. She didn't know how long she sat next to their bedside, whether it had been minutes or hours, she didn't know, but she did know that she couldn't leave him. Not like this. Madellaine watched his chest slowly rise and fall, each breath he took a deep, rattling, labored noise, an unsettling reminder that her husband, although improving slowly, was not out of the woods just yet. She sighed and picked up her lyre. The soothing chords of her lyre filled the room as she played, willing her pain and suffering at seeing her beloved husband in this condition to flow from her fingertips and into the soul of her music. She hoped and prayed he could hear it somehow, even in sleep. "I suppose I should thank you after all this time," she growled darkly, glowering at Jehan, where he sat perched on the edge of their bed, an amused look on his face as he looked at her. "However much of a bastard you were, Jehan, you made sure I was educated. You taught me to play."

Jehan flashed a charming grin her way that sent a chill of fear down her spine. "Think nothing of it, lovely," he teased, waving away her comment with a wave of his hand. "I can't wait to be front and center when you tell your dear husband that it's all your fault, what happened," he accused mockingly.

Fear seized her heart and clutched it tight, rending her unable to speak. "What do you mean?" she demanded harshly. "Tell me!"

"Your baby, lovely," he emphasized, his dark eyes glinting like pinpricks in their dimly lit bedroom in the bell tower. "Surely you've felt it over the last few days. The cramps, your nightmares. Something's wrong, you know it."

"That's not true!" she shouted and flinched as she watched her husband stir in his sleep, a small groan escaping him.! I can't wake you up. Not now, I—I should let you sleep. Damn it, what's wrong with me? Jehan, why the hell am I even listening to you, you bastard? You've never once helped me, not once.

"Come now, Madellaine, you're smart. Think. Use your head! Surely, you've felt it the last few days. The cramps, your fatigue, the constant sickness, unable to keep anything down…."

She felt her face drain of color as she processed Jehan's words. Oh, God. What if you're right? Please, God, no. I can't take this. "You're wrong," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You're a liar. Why should I listen to you?"

"But what if I'm right and something's wrong with your demon spawn?" Jehan challenged, resting his head in his hands, smiling.

"Don't call our baby that!" she shouted, not bothering to mind her tone. "Shut up right now, Jehan, or—or, I'll…"

"You'll what?" he smirked. "Stab me to death?" He spread his arms and looked around. "No one will believe you're hallucinating. It's not like you can tell anyone about me, lovely. If you do, well, I'd hate to think what would become of you. They'd lock you up, or worse, and you know this to be true. You can't tell a soul of this."

Madellaine felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized the bastard was right. Figment of her imagination or not, she couldn't tell anyone, not even her husband. She needed to be strong. For our baby, she thought and suppressed a tremor. Jehan had insisted she learn how to play music after his father's passing, paying for her lessons, and the benefit had paid off greatly. The young woman played swiftly, her nimble fingers smooth and deft in her expertise. Often had he required of her to play music for him during his meals, almost every night it was expected of her. Both the sisters and her mother had insisted she rest, but she was unable to. I'm not leaving you like this, she thought fiercely, and a surge of affection washed over her as she watched Quasi sleep. I won't leave you. Not when you hover so close to Death like this. He'd shown signs of improvement over the last few hours, but had ignored Darius and Alice's protests that he stay in bed for a few more days, insisting he had to help out in any way that he could, but he'd collapsed from fatigue and had demanded immediate care from Alice and Jeanne as he was still cold to the touch and shivering constantly with no seemingly no signs of relief or improvement on his part anytime soon. All the cousins had required of her was to sit with him by his beside and play for him, which she would have done regardless. It was believed that music held the power to heal, and the soul could hear the music even if the physical body couldn't. Madellaine shifted her lyre and set it down for a moment, cracking her knuckles. Her fingers tinged with pain and screamed for relief. She'd been playing for what felt like hours, and probably, she had.

Madellaine's dark thoughts were raging in her head. She was going to pass out if she didn't get air soon. She stretched and walked out over the balcony; gasping for air in deep, slow breaths to control her nausea. She gazed out at the foggy streets of Paris below and shivered in the freezing temperatures. A light rain had started, although with the way the clouds were blackening, it would threaten to turn into more snow soon. The black and purple thunderclouds loomed in the distance, descending upon Paris with slow grace, threatening another storm. The wind had picked up slightly, bringing a cold, winter breeze in through the balcony and all throughout their bell tower.

It's so cold, she thought, distraught. She shivered but didn't deny it felt refreshing. Madellaine could only hope that in some way, he could feel it too. The young woman closed her eyes, feeling the wind as it caressed her cheeks, the way it swirled around her, carrying power from all over. The wind carried with it possibilities. It carried with it the promises of rain and sunshine, the smells of distant lands, places she dreamed of one day visiting with her family. Tonight, however, it only carried with it the scent of rain. Madellaine brushed her hands on her brown dress and glanced back wearily at Quasi's sleeping form. She was thankful her dress had long sleeves to protect her from the worst of the cold, but she knew if her husband were awake, he'd chastise her for not dressing in warmer clothing if she was going to stay outside here.

You've had a harder life than most, beloved. You don't deserve this.

Madellaine sighed and adjusted her fabric belt at her waist tighter and sat back down next to her husband, fighting her urge to sleep. She was saved the trouble of starting again by the arrival of Laverne and Victor and Hugo. Good, she thought to herself. I could use a distraction right now. She was barely fighting her urge to sleep as it was. She felt a surge of affection for her husband's guardians. "How is he?" Victor asked, the scholar of the three.

"He's a fighter," she responded, smiling sadly. "He'll make it."

"Of course, he will," Laverne replied, her yellow eyes glowing like topaz in the night. "Your husband's a fighter, it's going to take more than the winter to put him out of commission," she teased. "Besides," she snorted, suppressing a low growl in the back of her throat, "If after twenty years of listening to you two doesn't make him sick, nothing will," she laughed, earning an eye roll from Hugo. Madellaine laughed, but it didn't mask her worry. In her sleeplessness, she was drunk on the silence. For hours, it had seeped into her pores, dowsing her mind in its thick toxicity. The usefulness of her thoughts left her along ago. Madellaine wanted so much to not think at all for a few hours, to be absorbed into the darkness that the night had promised her hours ago. She wanted to be waking refreshed to streaming white daylight, unaware of the hours between then and now. But as usual, her wishes mean naught and behind her eyes, the idiocy continued. She had been up since the crack of dawn and approaching severe fatigue. The bags underneath her eyes darkened and grew more pronounced, her face looked like gaunt and drawn, even ill. Her body would not allow her to slip into the unconsciousness of sleep. Her heart told her to stay awake for her husband. "God," she whispered, clutching Quasi's cold hand in hers and holding it gently, bringing it to her lips for a gentle kiss. "Jehan really was a bastard, wasn't he?" she asked, a slight smile tugging on the corner of her lips. "It's because of you he's dead. I owe you my life, my love. Without you, I—I wouldn't be here." She was glad he wasn't awake to hear her curse. Madellaine had heard the scolding he often gave to Alice and Jeanne whenever they swore around him, which was quite often, and she had no intention of being next. She'd seen his temper firsthand this afternoon with Frederic. She hoped she would never anger him again, for him to unleash that part of himself that he hated…

"Shouldn't you be resting?" a man's voice spoke up from behind her, causing her to jump, caught off guard by the outburst. She had been expecting Darius or even Brother Giovanni to come up and check on him, but Madellaine was surprised to see Frederic standing in the tower loft, leaning against their bedroom's entryway, his tall form towering in the shadows, his arms folded and his face shrouded in the shadows. Even though she couldn't see his face, Madellaine knew that Frederic was worried for her. As much of an ass as he could be at times, she knew that he cared for her.

"I can't," Madellaine whispered desperately, her voice cracking. Madellaine turned away in shame, not wanting to look at Frederic. She knew what she looked like. A mess. She was approaching her twelfth hour without sleep. Her face was ashen and emaciated from lack of sleep. "I can't go to sleep."

"I—I brought you some tea," he managed, stammering over his words. Damn it, he cursed himself and tried again. "I thought, you know, it might…calm your nerves," he finished, holding out a steaming cup of hot herbal tea in front of him. "Please. It'll do you good," he promised, his green eyes twinkling hopefully.

Madellaine managed a small half-smile and took the steaming cup gratefully. "Thank you," she said quietly, smiling up at him. She lifted the cup to her mouth and stared at the young soldier over the rim of her cup as she drank, the tea slightly burning her throat as it trickled down her throat, sending a pleasant warmth all throughout her body. It soothed her throat and calmed her nerves. She'd not had much of an appetite the last few hours and was close to collapsing. But still, she could not allow herself to rest.

Madellaine had to be strong. For Quasi. She owed him this.

Frederic said nothing at first. He stepped forward into the light and held his arms outstretched, waiting for her to come to him. "Come here," he encouraged. She stared. Madellaine could detect no animosity or lust in his tone. The handsome soldier seemed to sense what she was thinking as the corners of his mouth turned up in a soft, kind smile that was unlike him. "I promise you, Madellaine, I mean you no harm. I know what it's like," he said softly, any joking tones in his voice vanished and his eyes glazed over with a sudden sadness. He swallowed a lump in his throat as she hesitantly went to him and the young soldier wordlessly enveloped in a tight, protective hug and rested his head on top of her hers and held her. "You won't do your husband a kindness if you pass out from exhaustion, now, will you?" he said softly. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he attempted to control his worry for the young blonde in his arms. Before he could process what, he was doing, he reached up a gentle hand and smoothed a few strands of Madellaine's hair, enjoying the feeling of how soft and smooth her hair was. When he leaned a little closer, he realized her hair smelled of apples and the harvest season.

For just a moment, he forgot his concerns. He forgot the fact that he was missing a few of his toes, and the fact that the feud between him and the bell ringer of Notre Dame was far from over, but for now, all that mattered in the moment was making sure she was safe. Madellaine couldn't stop her tears from flowing as they gathered at the corners of her eyes as they spilled over. She tried to hold them back. She hated this. "I'm not going to leave him alone like this when he hangs by a thread," she gasped, struggling to control her tears. Madellaine buried her face in her hands, ashamed to look at Frederic. "Don't ask me to leave."

"Hush," he soothed, doing his best to calm her. "I know you can't. And I'm not asking you to. I just think you need to sit down before you keel over."

Madellaine felt a wave of darkness come over her suddenly, with no warning. "Oh, God," she moaned, instinctively reaching out to grab Frederic's arm. She would have collapsed to the floor if Frederic hadn't caught her. "What—what's happening to me?" she cried.

"Easy," he muttered quietly, taking in the sunken complexion of her face and noticing how pale she was getting. Her skin was clammy and beaded with sweat. "Sit down, before you pass out or hurt yourself, and then your husband is going to have my head if I allowed you to be hurt and didn't help you—"

He guided her back to her chair just as she let out a piercing scream that he knew would haunt his dreams for the next few nights. Her scream had a raw quality, the realness of a woman being consumed by her pain that knew no end or limit. Madellaine bit her lip to keep from crying out, but her efforts were futile. Sharp pains laced through her stomach and her vision ebbed and flowed, colorful spots flashing before her eyes. "Frederic…" she groaned through gritted teeth, panting in between pain spasms.

"Jesus," he groaned, growing panicked. "What can I do?"

"Get…Alice…please," she begged, biting her lip as another spasm of pain rippled through her entire body. She couldn't hold it back anymore and Madellaine let out a primal scream and tried to ignore the pained look Frederic was giving her, his face terrified. He let out a startled shout as she fell out of her chair, clutching her stomach and whimpering in pain.

"Oh, God, Madellaine, just—just hang on, I—I'm going to get you help. Hang on," he pleaded. Her naturally pale skin is almost white, translucent in color, her skin sunken in tone to something so lifeless it scares Frederic just to look upon the young woman who saved his life the other night. Madellaine's eyes closed and she sucked herself into a deeper place within the recesses of her mind to cope with the pain she was experiencing. All Frederic could do was stroke her corn silk blonde hair and hold his hand and shout for help. It barely seemed enough, yet her heart rate came down to something that felt more normal. From time to time his eyes flicker over to their bed, where her husband still sleeps, undisturbed in his unconscious state, but mostly they remained fixated on her face in a soft stare so that whenever she opened her eyes, he would be the first thing she sees. I've been in the same dark place as you, Madellaine, felt more pain that I knew a human body and soul could bear and it breaks me to see you hurting this way.

But don't worry. I'm going to help you, as you helped me. You'll see.

The pain seemed to come for him in waves. Each time he dived for the darkness, the relief from this tide of immense aches and pains his body was undergoing as it struggled to revert to a normal body temperature, not this frigid shell he'd become accustomed to over the last several hours and days.

Groggily, he opened his eyes and focused his view a foot from himself. His wife was sitting at the head of their bed next to him perched on the edge, stroking his wild tuft of red hair lovingly with a gentle hand, her fingers entangled in his thick locks. "You're awake," she breathed, utterly relieved.

"Lena," he murmured in surprise, sitting up and scrunching his face at the stiffness and how much his legs ached. "How long have you been up here?"

"Half an hour," she answered, her gray eyes softening as she met his gaze. "I was starting to think that, well, you might not make it, Quasi," she whispered.

Madellaine leaned over and her pressed her lips to his forehead, flinching at how his skin was like ice. "God," she whispered. "You're so cold, beloved…"

Her husband rolled his eyes and let out a light laugh. "Please. It's going to take more than a winter storm to get rid of me, Madellaine. Nope. You're not getting rid of me that easily. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid," he joked.

She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. He let out a tired sigh. "I'm glad you're here with me, sweetheart," he murmured quietly. "It means the world."

Quasi flinched and jerked away as his wife leaned over his arm and rolled the sleeve of his linen shirt up, placing a hot rag over the crook of his elbow and let out a startled cry as the sudden warmth almost seared his ice-cold skin.

"This might sting a little, and for that I'm sorry," Madellaine apologized, trying her hardest to apologize with her eyes, biting her lip hard enough to bleed. "I have to get your body temperature up, or you're not going to—"

He grinned, his brown eyes getting that all-too familiar mischievous glint that made his eyes lighten, and his smile making him look years younger than his age of twenty-eight. "Oh, I can think of a better way to do that," he laughed.

Now it was Madellaine's turn to roll her eyes. "Only when you're better," she joked, swatting his hand away as he grabbed her by her waist and yanked her forward, roughly than he intended to, for she fell on top of him. "You—"

"I'm better right now," he pouted, his grip on her neck tightening slightly as he pulled her down, so his lips met hers in a passionate kiss. He flinched only once as he grew audacious enough to flip her beneath him, pinning her arms above her head, covering her mouth with another fiery kiss. "No touching."

"That's cheating!" she protested, squirming against his grip, but he was too strong. But she relented after a moment of him just watching her, recognizing the hungry look in his eyes. "Fine, fine. Get someone else to ring the bells for evening Mass tonight, then," she giggled, biting her lip and waiting for him to catch onto her meaning. It didn't take him long. The slight stubble on his chin tickled the tender area at the base of her neck as he planted gentle kisses on any part of her he could reach. "Shouldn't we wait until you're more rested?"

"No," he growled, his tone terse. "It's been days since we've had any time up here alone to ourselves, love. I just really need to kiss you right now, so shut up and let me. Be quiet and just enjoy this, sweetheart." She nodded, recognizing that shift in his tone. Her body with rigid with surprise as the euphoric warmth from his tender touch blossomed within her once more. The two of them were mirrors and echoes of one another in so many ways that they both knew the two of them were soulmates, with their innate connection, the strongest bond two humans could ever forge. She knew that her husband was the only one who could reach inside of her with such ease, igniting her passions, extinguishing her storms when they came for her. Just by knowing him, Madellaine could become her true self, gaining the strength and confidence that she so desperately needed in her life to let her true colors shine through the very essences of her personality so brightly. She was his angel of fire and warmth, the very tips of her fingers burning flames that with every gentle touch and light stroke would send his mind reeling, his body craving more of her embrace. Her husband pulled back to study her face.

Quasi broke into a satisfied, soft little smile that she wished she could see more of, and leaned down to kiss her again, but the sound of Alice clearly her throat loudly behind them broke them out of their intimate moment. "Well."

Madellaine froze, just barely seeing the nun out of the corner of her eyes.

"My apologies," Alice smirked. "I came up here to get you out of bed, boy, it's past six-thirty in the evening and if you don't get a move on, Darius is going to have your head for missing the evening Mass tonight. I can see though you have…other ideas on your mind. I should leave you two to it."

The nun stood in the doorway that led into their sleeping nook of his tower, holding a heavily laden food tray bearing soup and a few loaves of bread. She had a delightfully suggestive smile on her face, her brow quirked at the couple. "You know," she added, unable to resist a jab of her own as she set the tray down and pulling up a chair and taking a seat, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest, surveying their bell ringer's face with something akin to amusement in her brilliant blue eyes. "If you wanted to be alone, all you have to do is say so, but, please…for the sake of all us downstairs, keep the noise down. You know we can hear you, right? In fact, we can hear everything," Alice added, shooting Madellaine a furtive wink.

She felt the heat creep to her cheeks and burrowed under the blanket, burying her face in her husband's chest. She'd never felt more embarrassed.

Sister Alice took that as her sign to continue. "You are both, but especially you, boy, are extremely loud. Spare us the details, I don't need to hear them."

Madellaine didn't even have to look over to Quasi's side of the bed to see how flushed he was becoming. Her husband ran a hand through his hair, struggling to control his temper. She drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs and held it, fully steeling herself for one of his infamous outbursts.

But it didn't come. With as much dignity as he could muster, he smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt and glowered at Alice, who he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off her face. "Need I remind you, Alice, that this is our tower. Nobody, not even you, comes up here without my permission."

Madellaine shot him a dark look, her eyebrows disappearing so far up into her forehead that they almost merged with the beginnings of her hairline.

"And hers," he added quickly, shooting his wife a nervous little laugh. "We were alone," he spat bitterly. "Until you showed up. Unannounced, by the way, I might add. I thought I warned you don't come up here unless you let us know first and you didn't, so get out of here and go the hell away," he snapped. He pulled Madellaine close, burying his head into her chest. "Go away!" Quasi moaned, resting his chin against her shoulder, letting out a sigh.

His wife, meanwhile, was still doing her best to will the color in her cheeks to return to normal. "Um, nothing—nothing happened!" she squeaked, feeling quite flustered. She knew just by the glint in Alice's sky-blue eyes they were in for it. She's not going to let us hear the end of this one anytime soon, is she?

Alice bit her lip playfully, turning away from them for a moment so she could pour them both steaming mugs of herbal tea. "Of course, it didn't," she chirped happily. She rolled her eyes and glanced back at the young woman over her shoulder. "Keep up this behavior, you two will have christened all the furniture in both these damn towers by midnight, and you'll have another baby on the way before this one is even out," Sister Alice joked, much to their horror. "Have you two been…christening a lot of the furniture lately these days?" she asked slyly, a wicked grin creeping onto her face as she sat down.

"That is absolutely none of your business," Quasi snapped, growing irate.

Madellaine, however, took on a calmer approach. She shrugged her shoulders, draping her around about his shoulder and pulled him even closer.

"I guess we have, Alice," she confessed, much to her husband's horror. She shot Alice a dazzling white smile. "We are newlyweds, Al, can't deny that, can you?" she joked, shooting the beautiful nun a coy little wink her direction.

Sister Alice snorted, crossing her legs as she smiled at the couple. "You know, say what you want about me, but I really am happy for the both of you," she replied, getting a wistful look in her blue eyes as she studied them over the rim of her wine goblet. "I believe the strongest bonds of love are formed in the most extraordinary of circumstances, just like yours were, and even me and my Lionel, before he passed away from a complaint of the heart." A beat. A pause. Alice gave Madellaine Barreau a once-over, considering her normally pale face, which was now quite pink and flustered, and her slightly disheveled blonde hair that had needed a trim since yesterday. "Oh, I was good. Very good," she added happily. "But you… you're better," Alice complimented warmly. The nun finally stood, groaning at the stiffness in her legs as she did so. "Well, don't let me keep you, then. I'll let you get back to yourselves," she cackled, heading towards the flap of their curtain to leave. Alice erupted into laughter, startling a few pigeons.

"Forget it, Alice," Quasi growled darkly, collapsing back against the pillow, closing his eyes. "The moment's now gone, thanks to your little interruption."

The nun shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, you're welcome," she added.

"I'm just going to just lay here," he sighed exasperatedly. "Rest my eyes and…try to shake off this afternoon." He turned towards his wife. "Love?"

Madellaine's face was unnaturally pale, almost white, the color of a moonbeam, or an ivory carving. A snowy face, beautiful, like a snow queen's in a fairy tale. Her hands too, were bone-white, but soft and elegant, as pale hands often were, though right now they were trembling slightly. A fact that did not escape her husband's attention. His brow furrowed into a frown.

His wife looked like a porcelain doll—he worried she would shatter if she fell. He couldn't help but wonder if he reached out, would he only graze air.

As if she were nothing but a ghost. Madellaine was jolted out of her daydreaming and back to the reality of their embarrassing predicament at having allowed themselves to almost be caught. Turning back to Quasi, she whispered through clenched teeth, "I thought you said we were alone!" she hissed, but her gray eyes betrayed her anger as the worst of her annoyance at the interruption quickly evaporated. "No one comes up here but us!"

"They don't!" he protested, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought back his urge to laugh at the nun's antics. "Both Alice and Jeanne know better, but since when have either one ever listened to me?" he groaned. He allowed himself a brief smile and pulled her close for a lingering kiss. "I'm sorry about this, sweetheart. I'll have a talk with those two in a little while."

Smirking slightly, he pulled the covers tighter over himself and mulled over their situation, noticing Alice was still lingering in the door, watching his wife.

"Leave it to you, Al, to never learn to knock!" he snapped, disgusted.

"I can't," she pointed out, a truly wicked grin on her face now. "No doors."

She had to duck as he threw a spare pillow their direction. "Will you just go?" he bellowed, finally losing the last of his patience with the beautiful nun.

"Fine," Alice sighed. "I'll go, but here," she added, tossing an apple towards Madellaine, who caught it before it could hit the floor. "Eat that, you're looking a little too peaky to be healthy, girl. You're not eating enough. You need to be resting and doing more for yourself. You've a baby inside you growing, don't forget," she teased, finally turning her back and walking away.

"How can I forget when you remind us every day?" Madellaine called back, rolling her eyes. Regardless, she wasn't very hungry, she was, in fact, feeling quite nauseous, but took a bite of the apple regardless, allowing the sweet juices of the piece of fruit to settle on her tongue as she rolled the apple in her hands. She didn't speak much until the apple was gone, and she hadn't realized that she needed that. Almost instantly, her energy felt renewed.

Quasi laughed and collapsed back against his own pillow, allowing his thoughts to drift. "I love you," he murmured sleepily, scooting closer and burying his head in her shoulder, draping a protective arm across her stomach. "Both of you," he added.

She smiled and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I love you too," she responded quietly. "Go to sleep and get some rest, darling. I'll come check on you in a bit. I promise, but right now you should rest. I need you better."

Notre Dame's bell ringer would describe his falling asleep as his only release from the worries of his isolated world. In his sleep, he could escape and find relief. And for a few seconds when he would wake, he was oblivious to his concerns for his wife and if their baby would be all right. He would enjoy that brief respite of time before his troubles burst to the forefront of his mind.

Still chuckling at Alice's interruption, he rolled his eyes and nuzzled into his wife's shoulder, his red hair only inches from her nose. After a few agonizing minutes, she felt his body go limp and Madellaine allowed herself to smile.

She cradled him to her chest as he drifted off towards a blissful sleep.

"Let go, my love," she whispered into the shell of his ear, hoping that even in sleep like this, he could hear her. "Let go of your fears. You're a wonderful husband, Quasi. The best I could have ever asked for by my side. I know you'll be a wonderful father to our baby, and any others that we might have."

"Mm?" he murmured sleepily, only half-listening to his wife's words.

"All you have to do is let go," she whispered, kissing his forehead. Let go.