Hi everyone! Let's just say it's been yeeaarss since I was so obsessed over a story/movie/actor. Like, it's unhealthy, I'm all grown up. Anyway, I see it more as a guilty pleasure :)
I make references to things that happen in the movie as well as the original novel. To be honest, this is definitely Hugo's best novel and I am disappointed it is more or less "forgotten" in the 21st century. If you haven't read it I highly recommend doing so! You can find the ebook for free on (it is NOT an illegal download, btw). I tried to more or less stay humble to Hugo's way of writing and failed miserably. Oh well, at least I tried.

This will not be one continuous story, but rather one story which jumps between past/present or specific happenings quite suddenly. Every one of these specific times entries will be several chapters long (if that makes any sense). I will indicate in the chapter title which chapter belongs to which part of the story.

Rated M for ... you'll find out soon enough.
Also, English is not my first language, so bear with me.

Story takes place right after the film's ending!
Enjoy!

Ursus couldn't believe his eyes, and rubbed them to make sure he wasn't seeing a ghost. Yet no one in the world could resemble Gwynplaine as much as the figure who stood before him. Dea sat up, clearly confused. The figure ran up to them, his face astonished. "I made it in time," he said, and Dea's face turned to shock and her cheeks turned white. She wasn't imagining anything. There, somewhere, her Gwynplaine stood. She called out his name and soon felt his body pressed against hers and his arms wrapped around her. He hugged her so tightly that she could nearly breathe. Yes, he smelled like Gwynplaine, she thought. Dea laughed, still shocked to the core.

"Dea, I'm back! I made it in time. Homo swam all the way to the shore to fetch me."

Ursus was in tears. He hugged Gwynplaine, the only man he saw as his son. Soon Gwynplaine removed his arms from Dea's neck, giving her space to breathe. "I... I don't feel so well..." the man panted, and before Ursus or Dea could even reply the man crashed into Dea having lost consciousness. "He is bleeding!" one of the crew members pointed out, and Ursus indeed now noticed the red stain forming through Gwynplaine's waistcoat. Ursus was quick to handle, asked the crew to fetch his case in which he had stored away some medical supplies just in case. He took off his scarf and clasped it into Dea's hand.

"Use this to cover his grin, Dea. I don't want to attract any more attention than we are already doing but make sure he can breathe freely."

Ursus turned Gwynplaine over, the limp body heavy in his hands, and quickly unbuttoned the waistcoat and tore apart the shirt underneath it to reveal a hideous cut in Gwynplaine's stomach, just below the ribcage. "Lord have mercy," Ursus whispered under his breath upon examining the cut more closely. It was deep, too deep to not be stitched, and the clothes were already a deep red colour, signifying the amount of blood lost. Dea was in tears, and held Gwynplaine's face close to hers as Ursus was busy to patch him up as best as he could, but knew they needed to see a surgeon as soon as they arrived in France. She felt her lover's slow breaths on her arm, the only thing that told her he was still alive. She prayed that he would not be taken away from her for a second time. His face was hot and he was sweaty. Dea wiped away the perspiration from his brow with her sleeve.

"Take him inside the old van, he needs to rest. This is all I can do for now. Dea, dear child, pray for him." Ursus' voice cut the silence after what seemed to Dea like an eternity. She felt several men pick up the limb body. "Be careful not to force the wound!" Ursus instructed the sailors.

She held his hand for as long as she could, until it lifelessly fell from hers. "Gwynplaine!" she called out, crying. She reached out, not yet ready to let go of him, but a pair of hands took hers instead. It was Ursus. "Take me to him," she demanded between her tears, "I want to be with him."

"Dea, I don't think that's a very good-"

"Take me to him!" and with one swift motion she stood up, folded the blankets around her, and slowly stepped on the creaky floorboards of the boat, trying to determine where they were taking her lover. "Dea, don't do this." Ursus said, and followed her, just in time to catch her when she slipped, unfamiliar to the rocking of the ship. She began to sob even harder. "Please, papa. Please, let me be with him."

Ursus sighed, he knew he couldn't deny anything she asked for and began to lead her to her lover.

Gwynplaine was laying on the small bed in the van and Ursus seated Dea on a small stool next to the bed. He adjusted the blanket around her to be sure she was warm enough and then did the same to Gwynplaine. "Will you watch over him, Dea? He probably won't wake up till we arrive in France."

"I'll stay with him," she said with a smile, "I'll call you if anything seems wrong." Ursus kissed her forehead before leaving them alone.

When she kneeled beside the bed she felt his chest, and her fingers moved up to touch his face. She placed her head on his chest, and gently stroke his hair. Dea hadn't slept a minute that night. She hadn't since they told her her lover was gone. She was worried; she was frightened; she was scared that at any minute Gwynplaine would disappear again, as if turning into thin air right before her blind eyes. He was in a restless sleep, and occasionally groaned in pain, and was talking in his sleep. Every time Dea heard him she would whisper is name, thinking he was waking. Yet every time she was met with silence. And in the silence her heart stopped beating, and she waited... impatient, for a reaction. Those were the longest moments of the night. But when her desperate whispers did not receive a reply, she soon lost faith. She did not know where he had been, or what had happened to him, but his scent was mixed with sweet perfume she did not recognize. It smelled expensive and reminded her of the folded paper she had found the night Gwynplaine disappeared after the performance. Was it that woman, the duchess? Did she write to him? Had he been seeing her? Did he not love her anymore? But then why would he abandon the Green Van only to return in the last minute? And how did he end up wounded and in such a state of distress?

He shot up with a cry, his eyes wild, his breath in short, fast blows. He looked around confused. Where was he? He felt himself moving and felt nauseous, sharp pains roared in his stomach. He was startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but when he looked around he could make out Dea in the darkness of the room. "Dea!" He was about to embrace her, but when he moved his torso he cried out in pain, and Dea sat up, pushing him down. "Stay down!" she demanded and her tone was so stern that he could not but obey. "Dea, where am I? What has happened? Where is Ursus?!"

"Don't you remember anything?" she asked him concerned. She sat beside him on the bed, her hands feeling his face to read his expression, but her eyes examined the invisible walls. "I... I don't know. My head is a mess. My stomach... why is it hurting so much?"

His hands reached down to examine his torso but halfway he met Dea's who, on accident, caught his. "No, don't touch it, you are badly injured. We are on our way to France."

Gwynplaine remained silent. It explained his nausea. Yet everything else remained a puzzle to him. What in the world had happened?

"Ursus told me you must rest."

Yes, rest. Now that he came to think of it, every muscle in his body seemed to ache severely. He wanted to sit up and find Ursus, but his body said otherwise. He was burning.

"We should arrive in France soon," Dea continued, "you've been asleep the whole trip."

"Why are we going to France?"

Dea was silent. "I don't know," she admitted at last.

Although the pain was unbearable, Gwynplaine knew he had to find Ursus. He sat up, much to Dea's protest, and soon carefully put his two feet on the floor which he now recognized to belong to the Green Van. He didn't recognize the trousers he was wearing yet he recognized them to be worn by nobility only. They were fancy, but dirty and torn at the knees. He was wearing his own shirt on the other hand, and saw specks of blood forming around his waist. His eyes were blurry, and in the dark he had trouble making out the room. Dea frantically pleaded him to remain put, but he needed answers. In one swift motion he raised himself to his feet, nearly losing his balance as he did so.

"Let me help you at least," she persisted and carefully placed his arm around her. He didn't protest, not sure how far his shaky legs would bring him on his own. In that unfortunate moment, he was her sight, and she was his sole support. He opened the door, and was met with the red pink light of sunrise. He smelled the sea and heard the waves. It was chilly, and it cleared his mind ever so slightly.

"Ursus?" It was Dea who called her foster father. Homo barked upon seeing Gwynplaine, and ran up to his beloved owner, but Gwynplaine was in no state to pet the wolf. Instead, he felt nauseous again, and leaned again the doorpost for support, afraid he would crush Dea if he leaned too much on her. He felt weak in the knees, the wound throbbing. Through the blur of his vision he saw Ursus running up to him. "Are you crazy?! You've got a cut that could kill you yet feel like taking a stroll?!" But Gwynplaine's legs gave way underneath him and he was caught just in time by his father.

"What happened?" Gwynplaine asked as he was taken inside by Ursus again, barely able to stand on his legs, his hand still holding Dea's tightly. "You escaped Death, that is. Lie down, you imbecile, before this cut will end you."

Gwynplaine groaned as he carefully lay down again. He felt like his eyes were twisting in their sockets. "My head's a mess. I can't remember anything," he groaned.

"You don't remember being taken by the wapentake? My God, they made us believe you were dead, Gwynplaine! Yet here you are, albeit more dead than alive, let's be frank. Maybe Dea's right, maybe you truly are an angel but that gives you no right to make an old man nearly have a heart attack 'cause of fright... twice!" Ursus scolded. Gwynplaine knew Ursus didn't mean it like that. "And look at your clothes," Ursus continued, "they could've been sold for a fortune, this is the finest silk I have ever laid eyes on, yet in this state they are not even worth a penny. And in your pocket there was a purse filled to the brim with golden coins!" Ursus sighed, paced the room for some more moments, then decided sit down and take care of the bandage around Gwynplaine's waist. If Gwynplaine wanted to survive they would have to arrive in France fast. "What in heaven's name have you been doing with that nobility? And where in the world did you get this money from? I don't get it, Gwyn."

Though Gwynplaine felt he became dizzy as soon as Ursus nursed his wound, his memory returned at the same instance as if in an epiphany. He groaned as the past 36 hours returned all at once; a wave of memories engulfed his mind.

"I...I... I'm the heir to the title of Lord, Ursus. My name is Fermain Clancharlie. I was bound to be married to that Duchess... on... on orders of the Queen," He said softly. Dea gasped beside him, taking his arm and Ursus, too, was shocked. "Well, that would explain your attire," Ursus admitted dryly.

"But... did you..." Dea began, tears falling down her beautiful face.

Gwynplaine took her hands, and placed them on his cheeks. "No Dea, thank God. I fled. I've made quite a scandal. There is only person I want to marry, Dea; you." He kissed one of her hands, and his life was slowly returning when he was met with Dea's gorgeous smile. She blushed and didn't say anything, but their souls silently agreed to what they did not express out loud. Though the happiness was only short-lived as Gwynplaine was soon overcome by fatigue again.