Chapter Twenty-Five

Madellaine stared at herself in the mirror hung on the wall in the cold, desolate chambers that had become something of a prison to her over the last several hours. She bit her bottom lip in a slight pout, hard enough that she didn't even realize it was bleeding until it was too late as she uncorked the vial of penny royal that she'd swiped from Ashan's chambers. She had gone to the old healing maester in a panic the minute Jehan Frollo had left her alone.

She brought the vial to her lips and hesitated, blinking back briny tears that formed and gathered at the corners of her eyelids, threatening to spill over. Taking a frightened, shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nostrils, willing her entire body to calm down. "Were that I had strength enough…I do not want to live in a world without you, my love," she whispered, hoping that Quasi could hear her, somehow.

The young blonde stifled a half-choked sob that threatened to escape from the back of her throat. May God forgive me, for I cannot live in a world without my husband by my side. If this is the only way to see him again. "Then I will do it," she whispered, surprising herself at the strength in her voice, at her newfound resolve. I will not live my life as Jehan Frollo's wife, the murderer of my husband, his own father. I cannot. I won't.

Before her resolve could fade away, she felt her jaw muscles tense and lock up and she downed less than half of the pennyroyal, mixing it into her cup of tea one of the serving girls had brought up for her. It was not fatal (yet) but in time, if she did not seek medical treatment, and with her husband gone, she fully intended not to, it would kill her. Madellaine sat at the very far end of the room, her back up against the damp cold stones of the wall, body aching, cheeks burning with the flush of fever. She would have cried for help, but there was no strength in his voice, just a whisper.

Her breath quivered in short, quick gasps every time she inhaled, her lungs having no choice but to painfully and rigidly take in the chilled air around her. She couldn't seem to stop shaking either. Sometimes it was rough, other times she could manage, but every time she'd get close to sleep, a new spell of violent shaking would force her awake. "I'll get better. I'll get better," she repeated to herself, feebly rubbing away at her arms in a sickly attempt to cease the unsettling chill that continued to run down her spine and made her skin crawl.

Madellaine tried her hardest to fight back the sudden wave of nausea as it clawed at her throat, and she tried to force down the bile, but it was too late. Her stomach kept on contracting violently and forcing everything up and out. Her face was white, dripping bile, sweat and tears. She lurched forward and sank to her knees as she dry-heaved and retched until only clear liquid was coming up, and then nothing at all. Her throat felt sore from the stomach acid that was layering it and her mouth tasted of vomit. Wiping her mouth with a handkerchief, she poured herself a chalice of water and tried to wash the disgusting taste from her mouth.

She stifled a sob with the scuffed palm of her hand and sunk to the floor. Her face was sallow, her eyes lifeless and helpless at her situation. The circles under her eyes were prominent from lack of sleep, she'd agonized over her predicament and what to do about it. She saw only one way to rectify her problem, and she hated it.

There was no other way. So it was. Madellaine cursed Jehan for the bastard he was, spewing vile thoughts from her lips in a whisper; grateful Quasi wasn't nearby to hear her black thoughts of wickedness as she wished upon him a terrible, violent death. She didn't try to stop her thoughts, she let them come to her, providing what little relief they could as she condemned her husband's father to a life in hell where he belonged.

Surrounding by four stone walls, there was nothing else to do but stare at them. To look at the stones weathered by age, chipped off slightly or gouged out from other parishioners that had claimed refuge here once prior to her arrival, slowly going mad, anything to pass the time, theorizing absurd meanings from the wall's blank stare.

She didn't have to wait long. Almost immediately, intense cramps of a horrendous magnitude overcame her abdomen. Clutching her side, she couldn't bear the pain as the fire tore through her insides; she wasn't able to catch herself as she fell, writhing in pain on the floor in her quarters.

The pain wasn't sharp like a needlepoint or a knife; it burned around her innards better than boiling water. Everything felt scolded and, move or not, she was in more pain than she could have ever imagined was possible. If this was her penance to pay for just wanting to be by his side again, then so be it. She would die here. She would not inflict suffering and torment upon herself any more.

She bit her tongue hard enough that she drew blood to prevent herself from crying out, but it wasn't enough. Madellaine screamed and gasped as she felt a horrible tingling swell within her chest, and her throat started to close off, making it hard for her to breathe. She was having another panic attack.

Her gut-wrenching screams had brought Esmeralda rushing, horrified to find her door locked. Damn, she swore inside her head. Wildly glancing around for something to use, she managed to jam the handle of iron skillet in the door handle until the lock broke. She flung the door open, her face flushed and white with shock at the scene before her. "Oh, no," muttered Esmeralda, stooping low to cradle Madellaine's head in her hands. "Oh, God!" she moaned, distressed at the state of the poor girl writhing in pain on the floor.

Madellaine was lucky she hadn't killed herself with what she'd done, and that was still very much a possibility if Esmeralda and the others didn't get her help, and soon. "I'm sorry," she cried, barely seeing Esmeralda through her haze of pain and her hallucination. "I didn't know any other way! I'm sorry."

"Lena, what have you done? What did he do to you?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes. She knew Jehan Frollo had done this to her. "He did this…"

"H-he did. I'm sorry," she whispered through her tears. "I couldn't." She closed her eyes. Forgive me, God. "I'm so sorry," Madellaine gasped, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She was beside herself with grief, and let out a heart-breaking wail that felt like it reverberated off the chambers walls, echoing through the whole entire estate. The cramps were too much for her to handle.

The young woman cried and begged for release from this pain, but she knew it was her punishment, the pain she must endure for killing herself with the bitter potent mixture she'd stolen from Jehan's stores. If she died, no one else would get hurt because of her.

Jehan had taken everything from her.

The other day when he had saved her life from drowning, he had taken what he believed to be rightfully his. In the midst of her personal Hell she was experiencing for killing herself she began to hallucinate. A blinding white light glared into her vision and the image of a laughing child floated across her vision. The child was a girl, with blue eyes like her own and beautiful auburn curls, red hair like her father's. Quasi's face filled her vision and was looking at her with such warmth and love in his eyes that she knew then that he was her everything.

With true love, she felt like he was the reason her life was beautiful now. What she had always longed for. It was when she was lost in those eyes of his, those thoughts of adoration and affection for him and Madellaine thought of them every moment.

Loving him was the best feeling because when she felt at her lowest and she talks to him, all he says to her in this moment is "It will be alright; I'm right beside you. You're safe." She knows that right now, he is. He's with her, guiding her through the worst of her pain, he was her beacon of hope, he is the reason she has to not let go, to continue to try to fight this. His loving expression turned into one of disgust and hatred as the child in her vision began to distort, the beautiful image of the baby girl twisting and shrieking like a banshee, began to transform her shape like that of a shape shifter into a hideously malformed wretch, screaming at her for her decision to kill herself.

"I'm so sorry," she cried out, still hallucinating, tears streaming down her face. She screamed, unable to take the feelings of heartbreak and rage, wishing it would just end. If she were to die here, then so be it. She didn't want him to suffer because of her.

"I—it's okay," Esmeralda breathed. "Y—you're safe," she moaned, blinking back briny tears. She saw no other way. I'm sorry, my love, but I have no choice. I'm so sorry. She would have to bring him into this. The girl needed help. "Damn it," she whispered-hissed angrily, clenching her teeth, and balling her hands into fists. "PHOEBUS!" she bellowed, her powerful voice echoing through the hallways. It didn't take their captain long to arrive, winded and panicked. His face blanched and he looked like he was going to be sick at the sight before him.

"Oh, God. What happened?" he demanded urgently, kneeling down, and holding Madellaine gently as she passed out from the pain, still clutching her stomach. He cradled her gently, smoothing her hair, kissing her forehead. "What did you do, Lena…?" He hated seeing her like this.

"He did this to her," Esmeralda whispered, her eyes flashing angrily. "You've got to stop him, Phoebus."

By God… Phoebus felt his heart sink to the pits of his stomach. "It's going to kill Quasi, to see her like this."

Esmeralda nodded bitterly and spat in disgust. "Jehan did this to her, find him, Phoebus, and gut the bastard." Phoebus opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off, furious at the girl's predicament. "No. Don't argue with me, Phoebus. I've seen it. Madellaine's our friend, and we cannot let Quasi's wife suffer like this. Jehan Frollo needs to be stopped, and you're the only one that can do it. His…aunt, was right. Helena. The boy doesn't need more blood on his hands. Don't fight it. I know you have what it takes within you to do what needs to be done," she snarled, her eyes blazing. "If you truly love her and want to protect her, you've got to kill this man. Aim for his head…."

Phoebus's body shook with the effort to remain calm and composed, but seeing her like this was making it very difficult for him. The soldier wanted nothing more than to return to his roots and track down the man who had done this to her and gut him and watch, satisfied, as the man's entrails spilled from his stomach. A violent, bloody death, for a violent, bloody man. "She can't stay here," he whispered, gently lifting Madellaine in his arms and holding her close to his chest.

"Where are we supposed to take her?" snapped Esmeralda.

"She needs medical attention," he said thickly, turning away from Esmeralda, his voice breaking. "She needs treatment now or she'll die."

"I can't care for her here!" Esmeralda shouted, momentarily losing her temper. Esmeralda sighed and rubbed her temples. What a night this is turning out to be. By God, she's lucky to be alive. She had taken just the right dosage to induce cramps, but if she had taken anymore, the girl would have done irreparable damage to her body.

For that matter, she might already have. "Helena's waiting outside. We have to take her back to the tower," spoke up Esmeralda finally. "Don't you dare tell Quasi, either," she added harshly, her face only inches from Phoebus's.

"What…?" Her husband was confused.

"He doesn't need to know," Esmeralda answered simply.

"We can't keep this a secret. He has to know!" Phoebus shouted.

"If she wanted anyone else to know, she would have come directly to me," she snapped, grabbing a rag and began to wipe her hands clean. "The fact that she tried to keep this a secret tells me she doesn't want our bell ringer to know what his father did to her," she snarled, an ugly expression on her face, one of pure hatred and revulsion.

"I can't just let this go by without saying something—"

"Do not tell him," she hissed. "If you tell him the truth, there's no telling what kind of rampage he might go on. I've seen how he looks at her. Quasi would kill for her. You and I know that better than most. The best thing for him is to never find out about this. We need him. She needs him," Esmeralda added sadly, gesturing her head to the unconscious girl in Phoebus's arms. "Give her to me. Helena and I will make sure Madellaine gets back home."

His face white, Phoebus could only nod in shock. "You have my word, sweetheart," he muttered darkly, standing and without another word, carrying her outside, where the pretty brunette was waiting, who wordlessly took her to a healing room to get cleaned up, her dress changed.

Madellaine was lucky she hadn't been killed with what she'd done, and the situation just got worse as Quasi rounded the corner and froze, his face white with shock and horror.

"Oh, God," moaned Phoebus, wanting to avoid exactly this confrontation. His face drained of color as his mind quickly put together what their newest caretaker of Notre Dame had done to herself. "So much for not telling you."

Madellaine was in so much pain her complexion was ashen, and Phoebus could tell the girl barely felt anything at all as Notre Dame's bell ringer rushed and immediately took his wife from the captain, sinking onto the floor, using the stone wall as a brace for his back, her head lolled against the crook of his elbow, her blue eyes open but un-seeing.

Her skin sunken in tone to something so lifeless and white like a corpse that it scared Phoebus just to look at her. Her eyes closed and she sucked herself into a deeper place to cope with her pain, diving for the blackness of unconsciousness when it came for her.

All Quasi could do for her was stroke her hair and hold her hand. It barely seemed enough, yet her heart rate slowly came down. From time to time, his blue eyes dropped to her wedding band on her hand, heartbroken at what had transpired, but mostly they were fixed on her face in a soft stare so that whenever Madellaine opened her eyes, his eyes were the first thing she would see.

"I've been in your dark place before, sweetheart. I am here, I'm here, I've got you, Lena, a—and I'm not going anywhere. You're not in this alone, sweetheart, I promise you," he whispered, keeping his voice low so that only she could hear him, pressing his lips to her forehead for a chaste kiss. "I've felt more pain than I knew a human body could bear and it breaks my heart to see you this way."

She murmured something inaudible and stirred slightly in his arms but she did not wake. Quasi gingerly lifted her unconscious form in his arms, ready to go with Helena and Esmeralda and return her back to Notre Dame, where she belonged.

The poor boy's face was white with shock and he had such a look of grief in his eyes that Phoebus had to turn away, he was unable to look, he thought he might break down in tears.

"Don't let her out of your sight," Captain Phoebus advised sadly, his voice shaking as he transferred her unconscious form to the boy's arms. "She needs you," he said softly. He coughed to cover the fact his voice was cracking, and Captain Phoebus was close to tears. "Don't leave her alone." Their bell ringer could only nod, a look of pain and rage in his eyes at the one who had attacked her.

Phoebus briefly wondered if he'd have to station a guard outside the bell tower to keep an eye on the boy once the lot of them made it back to the cathedral, make sure he didn't do anything rash. He sighed as he realized that method would be ineffective. The boy would just scale the church walls, as usual.

"I don't want you going after him," he added sharply, eyeing the bell ringer carefully. "I know you're thinking it. Don't do it. I beg of you. She needs you." He noticed the bell ringer's back muscles tense up as he straightened his shoulders.

As he turned to face him, Phoebus was not surprised to see a look of rage upon the younger man's face.

"That son of a b—" Quasi growled darkly, but Phoebus held up his hand and cut him off.

"Language," reminded Phoebus gently. "Mind your tongue."

"I can't just stay back in the cathedral and do nothing!" Quasi snarled. "What if he comes again for her? Jehan needs to be stopped!"

"You don't have a choice!" he urged, doing his best to keep his voice down. It wouldn't do to start an argument and wake her.

"Damn it, Phoebus, I can't just stay back and let this hap—"

"You watch your tone with me. You leave finding Jehan to me. I will take care of it. He won't be getting anywhere near her, but I can't do this on my own. I need you. I need you to stay here and protect her, keep an eye on her. Don't let her out of your sight."

The bell ringer didn't say anything; he was at a loss for words.

"She needs you here," Phoebus snapped, ignoring the low warning growl that escaped from the back of Quasi's throat. "I'm not going to allow you to risk your life foolishly without thinking about her and your wife's needs, when she loves you and wouldn't be able to bear it if she lost you. Don't give me that look of surprise, you know I'm right. Care for your wife, Quasi. She's pregnant, in case you've forgotten. She and your baby need to be looked after, and what she needs right now is you by her side. I want your word, Quasi."

This revelation took the younger man by surprise. The poor man had such a lock of shock on his face that under normal circumstances, Phoebus might have laughed.

The captain sighed, raking a hand through his blond hair. He swallowed hard. He didn't want to admit that he too, wanted nothing more than to find Claude's brother and gut him like a fish, but if there was anything that might deter the bell ringer from doing something so idiotic as to risk his own life to bring her attacker to justice, it was that.

"She loves you," Phoebus whispered, his voice cracking. "She does. Surely, by this point in your marriage, you know this, my friend."

He could only watch as the bell ringer coughed to mask the tears that were forming in his eyes and to disguise his own lump that was forming in his throat.

"I won't leave her," Quasi answered thickly, reaching up a trembling hand to stroke her hair. Even unconscious in his arms, she was still so beautiful.

Phoebus raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "I need you to give me your word, Quasi," he answered simply. "Do not go after him. I will take care of this. Do you trust me, Quasi?"

It was a moment before the younger boy nodded. He was saved the trouble of responding by Madellaine stirring in his arms.

Her face had a grayish tinge neither of them liked, the circles underneath her eyes more pronounced. She blearily opened her eyes and looked around, her eyes resting on the bell ringer's.

Her blue eyes met Phoebus's hazel brown eyes for just a moment, and he had to look away. He couldn't stand to see her like this. It was killing him.

"You're here," she whispered weakly, gazing up at Quasi with relief, as if for some reason, she thought he might disappear. "A—am I dead? I—is this heaven?"

Her husband fought back tears, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he shushed her gently. "No, sweetheart. You're not dead. Y—you're alive. Don't try to speak. Shh," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Her skin was clammy and beaded with sweat. "I'm here," he promised soothingly. "I'm here, you're okay," he reassured her, only half-believing it himself. He wasn't sure how much longer he could remain calm; his panic was nearing the surface.

"You saved me," she whispered, such pain and fear in her eyes that he could not bear it. "You saved my life."

"No," he whispered, gazing at Phoebus, who had collapsed onto the top step outside and buried his face in his hands. "I didn't. Esmeralda a-and Phoebus—"

"Yes, you did," she insisted, reaching up a shaking hand. Quasi stopped her gently and took her hand in his and kissed it.

"What are you talking about?" he urged gently, not accusingly.

"I dreamed of you. You—you brought me back," she whispered, leaning her head into his chest, and shuddered as another cramp overtook her body. Her voice was shaking with the effort to power through the worst of pain. "I'm telling you the truth!" she protested.

"You need to sleep, Madellaine," he said gently, shifting her slightly in his arms so he held her closer to his chest. His grip on her tightened, as if he were to let her go, he'd never hold her again. He had no intention of losing her. "You've been through something no one should ever have to go through. You should be resting. I should let you sleep; I need to—"

"I love you," she whispered. He froze, staring at her with his beautiful blue eyes. "I—I never should have…let him catch me like that. I—I think our baby….is safe," she sobbed. "I only wish I could have told you sooner."

"What?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it. "Are you—?"

"I told you…to trust me," she said quietly, wincing at the pain in her ribs as she spoke. "I just thought you should know; in case something happens to me..." Her voice trailed off and her blue eyes searched his, fearful and afraid of his answer to her declaration of her feelings for him. What he would say to her. She bit her lip and waited for him to respond.

Quasi's voice cracked as he spoke. "I love you too. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you." She reached up as best she could and kissed his cheek before laying her head against his chest and collapsing, losing herself to the darkness of her pain. The girl needed Sister Rosemary's care now or she would die.

"You'll take care of her?" Phoebus asked, breaking the silence.

Their bell ringer glanced up at him and nodded, looking like there was more he wanted to say, but at the urgent insistence of both Esmeralda and Helena to go while there was still a sliver of light from the moon, the four of them left.

Madellaine looked exhausted, but deep down, Phoebus knew she would pull through, for which he was relieved. He sighed and politely excused himself. Phoebus made it to the bottom of the estate's steps, before his legs gave out and he sat on the step, his shoulders shaking with sobs as he struggled to regain his composure.

"God forgive me, for I know not what I do, but I do not know if I've strength enough," he whispered through clenched teeth, clutching his sword so tight in his hands, he was sure he was going to have one hell of another callus there in the morning, if he lived. "I do not know what you ask of me in this life, but I beg of you, grant me permission to go after the one who would cause harm unto my family. I cannot idly sit by and watch as my family suffers. Please." Don't fight your urges. Give in.

Quasi turned around, a distraught look on his face as it twisted and contorted, though he was able to tear his gaze away from Madellaine's unconscious form long enough to ask a question. "What did he do to her, Phoebus? What happened?"

"She needs medical treatment tonight or she won't make it," Phoebus said coldly, his pain hiding underneath an emotion he was much more comfortable with: Anger, and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he felt his jaw go hard and rooted, his voice clipped and hard at the thought of this precious girl leaving them before her time.

"What—what happened?" cried Quasi, smoothing her bangs back away from her forehead, her head resting against his chest as she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Phoebus hesitated, torn between two desires to tell the truth and keep the secret. If he found out what happened tonight, he would try to go after whoever had done this to Madellaine, and though Phoebus himself would be the first one to admit that he wanted it more than anything, to gut the bastard that did this to her just as he had his own father all those years ago, they needed a plan, and that took time.

"I don't know," he admitted through gritted teeth, turning away sharply and closing his eyes. He had lied through his teeth for perhaps the second time tonight and he hated every second of it. God forgive me, he begged internally. For I know not what I do, but he cannot know.

The noise woke Madellaine as she opened her eyes, hazy and in a daze, confused as to her surroundings. She blearily tried to focus her gaze a few feet in front of herself as Quasi met her gaze, his blind eye hazy and ice cold in its blueness, frozen over solid like a glacier in winter. His good eye, the blue hue held so much heartbreak that Madellaine could hear bare to look. Yet, she could not seem to pull her gaze away. "I…"

"What happened? What happened to you, Madellaine? Talk to me, tell me the truth," he demanded, almost sounding angry with her. Phoebus recognized the signs of an outburst coming, the way Quasi's face drained of color, the way his eyes would lose all semblance of warmth.

"I.. I can't," she whispered, resting her head against his chest, too drained of energy to respond to his question.

"Quasi," warned Phoebus, but he was not listening to the Sun God and man that he considered like a brother. He had eyes and ears only for Madellaine in his arms.

Quasi opened his mouth to speak, but his voice trailed off and faltered as she reached up a trembling hand and caressed his cheek with the pads of her fingertips, reaching up with the last vestiges of her strength to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. "What…?" he whispered, his voice cracking as she pulled back to study his face, to look into his eyes.

"I couldn't do it…" she whispered, resting her head against his chest and dove for the blackness of sleep as it came to her. He had no time to ask her what she meant.

"I…Phoebus, what happened to her?" he asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat and blinking back salty, briny tears.

"It has to be her choice to tell," Phoebus said softly, standing to his feet once he was sure he was stable enough to, brushing his hands on his tunic. "I can't tell you, Quasi. You'll take care of her?" he said, knowing full well the younger boy would say yes. "Will you?"

"Yes," he whispered; his gaze unwavering as he studied Madellaine's unconscious form in his arms. "I'd give my own life for hers if it came to it, Phoebus. She's my wife. The mother of our unborn child, how could I not protect her? I—I love her," he admitted, his tone pained as he glanced upwards at Phoebus. "What can I do for her?"

The look of heartbreak in his eyes was too much to bear.

Phoebus fixed Quasimodo with an ice-cold stare. "Not let her go."