Chapter 63: The Night

Claude sat down in his room with his eyes closed. He couldn't look at the blood without thinking of how it had ended up on him, so it was a great relief to have Elaine here to help him wash it off.

With a wet cloth, she wiped the blood from his skin. She started at his hands and went up his arms, then started on his torso.

"Watch the scar." Claude warned.

"I'll be very careful." Elaine promised.

She was. She didn't hurt him at all when she cleaned over his scar.

Soon she stopped and Claude opened his eyes. He was clean. The blood that made him think of Esmeralda being stabbed was washed away. But now his scar was more obvious. He'd actually failed to realize that he'd been walking around with that thing visible. It hadn't been a concern when Esmeralda's life had been at risk.

Elaine noticed Claude looking down at himself in silence.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

Claude came back to reality. He looked at Elaine and nodded.

"Thank you for this." He told her.

"Of course." Elaine replied. "You're my friend."

Claude was taken by surprise.

"Are we on those terms now?" He asked.

"I mean, if you're okay with that." Elaine explained. "I feel like you're my friend since you've saved my life and been so nice to me."

Claude barely smiled despite his unhappy mood.

"You'll hear no complaint from me." He assured.

Elaine smiled back.

Claude got up and went to his wardrobe. He found a clean tunic and put it on. Behind him, Elaine looked around the room.

"Are those Quasimodo's carvings?" She asked, noticing the wooden figures on his desk.

"Indeed." Claude replied. "He made those for me when I was sick. I... quite like them."

It pained Claude to remember a time when Quasimodo had felt nothing negative for him, and when he had pathetically failed to accept that affection.

"You hung up my painting." Elaine observed next.

"Ah, yes. It's a very good one."

"Do you really think so?"

"I do, and I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it. I'm rather an art appreciator, and I dare say you're on par with some very famous painters."

Elaine blushed at the compliment.

It occurred to Claude that the girl probably didn't have many people to say these things to her. Her parents were dead, after all.

"I'm sorry your parents aren't around." Claude said sympathetically. "They'd be proud of you."

"I like to think so." Elaine said hopefully.

"I'd be proud if you were my daughter." Claude shared.

Elaine smiled sweetly. She looked as if she'd been relieved of some kind of burden. Claude was happy to see it, but the feeling was short-lived.

"I need to see Esmeralda." He reminded.

Elaine nodded and went with him to the room where Esmeralda lay. The door was open, and inside they could see Quasimodo standing by his injured friend, holding her hand.

Claude hesitated to enter. Seeing those two together in peace was a good thing. He didn't want to interrupt it. But Esmeralda soon noticed him in the doorway.

"Claude..." She acknowledged.

Quasimodo frowned.

"I'll give you two some space." He said sadly.

"Wait, will you be back?" Esmeralda asked nervously.

"Definitely." Quasimodo promised.

He kissed her hand before going out to the corridor. Claude looked at him with a touch of guilt.

"Go." Quasimodo encouraged. "She wants to see you."

Claude gave in and went into the room. Quasimodo took a few steps down the hallway, and Elaine followed him.

"We made up." The bell ringer shared.

Elaine was glad to hear that, but Quasimodo didn't seem nearly as glad. His tone was sorrowful.

"You don't sound too happy about that." Elaine noticed.

"I just realized how much of a jerk I've been... Esmeralda didn't deserve what I put her through. I can't believe I was such a bad friend."

"You're not a bad friend, Quasi. You only acted that way because you were hurt."

Quasimodo looked down at the floor, frowning.

"I told her I want her to be with him."

Elaine looked at him in disbelief.

"Really?"

"Yeah... And I meant it. I don't really know how I feel about him, but I know he's not like he was before. He's decent enough. And he makes her happy..."

Elaine was impressed. She knew how hard it had been for Quasimodo to see his best friend with his mother's killer, but he'd somehow managed to look at the situation differently. That couldn't have been easy.

"You really are a good friend." Elaine praised. "I'm sure it meant a lot to her that you cared so much about her happiness."

"Yeah... I think it did..."

Quasimodo stopped in the middle of the corridor.

"You should probably get going." He suggested. "So your uncle doesn't worry."

"What about you?" Elaine asked.

"I'm going to talk to Frollo. I don't want to go another day without getting my questions answered. I'll catch up with you later."

Elaine felt more proud of her friend than ever. Something told her that this conversation would be important. She would be anxious to hear the results of it.

"I think that's a good idea." She encouraged. "Good luck, Quasimodo. I'm proud of you for being this brave."

Quasimodo barely smiled. He hugged Elaine warmly before she started away. But before she could leave, she stopped.

"Oh, I wasn't sure if you knew this." She began. "Frollo keeps your carvings on his desk."

Quasimodo was completely surprised by that.

Claude anxiously came to Esmeralda's side.

"Esmeralda, darling..." He practically sobbed.

He touched her cheek with one hand and grabbed her hand with the other. A small, relieved smile came over her face.

"You're okay." She said gratefully.

Claude smiled back sadly.

"Thanks to you." He reminded.

Esmeralda suddenly lost her smile as she winced at a wave of pain.

"Are you alright?" Claude asked concernedly.

"I'm fine." Esmeralda assured. "It's just a little pain..."

Claude's expression became an ashamed frown.

"I'm so sorry!" He apologized. "I shouldn't have let this happen. I-"

"Claude, stop it." Esmeralda cut off. "Why on earth are you apologizing? You stopped me from bleeding out."

"You shouldn't have been hurt at all. I should have-"

"Claude... There was nothing you could have done."

That was a fact. Everything had happened so fast. Claude could not have possibly reacted fast enough to prevent Esmeralda from being stabbed. And yet, he felt that he should have.

"I find it so hard to accept that..." Claude said pitifully.

"You have an awful habit," Esmeralda started. "Of blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault."

Claude quickly realized how true that was. Esmeralda knew him well.

"...Indeed, I do." He admitted.

Esmeralda squeezed his hand.

"I thought I wouldn't see you again." She told him. "I'm so glad I was wrong... Thank you..."

Claude held back a few tears that accumulated in his eyes.

"I wouldn't let you go so easily." He assured. "I love you too much."

Esmeralda smiled, but soon winced in pain again. Claude hated to see her in this state. He had to do something to help her.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked. "Can I make you more comfortable?"

Esmeralda looked at a bloodstain on her sleeve. She remembered how much she'd bled earlier. The thought of being covered in blood made her cringe.

"Can you... Get this blood off me?" She asked weakly.

"Of course." Claude replied.

He briefly left and found a servant, whom he asked for a few buckets of water. They were brought to him in the room where Esmeralda stayed, and he quickly shut the door before getting to work.

Esmeralda groaned in pain as Claude helped her out of her bloodstained clothes, which he put in the buckets to soak. Even her bare skin was covered in blood, so Claude went about cleaning her up. Her eyes closed as she lay down in pain and weakness. Claude made sure not to make it worse, being gentle around the injury.

The wound was dressed in a bandage now, but the blood surrounding it was enough to upset Claude. He was sickened by the evidence of the earlier violence. The violence Esmeralda had suffered for his sake...

Claude tried to maintain his composure as he dragged a wet cloth over her skin, but a slight tremble in his hand revealed his state of mind. Esmeralda half-opened her eyes.

"It's not your fault." She whispered.

Claude barely nodded.

He soon wiped the last of the blood from her and got her under the bedsheets.

"I'll be right back." Claude promised.

He found the bloodstained tunic he'd suppressed the bleeding with earlier and threw it into one of the buckets. He then took them out of the room and handed them to a maid. Next, he went to his room and grabbed one of his tunics, which he slipped onto Esmeralda when he got back to her. It didn't cover her too much, so it would be easy to check the wound if needed, but it would keep her from getting too cold.

"How is this?" Claude asked.

"Perfect." Esmeralda replied. "It smells like you."

She smiled playfully despite her pain.

Claude slightly chuckled. Only Esmeralda could make him see humor in such a difficult moment.

He held her hand as she tried to relax through the pain. Luckily, it wasn't long until she fell asleep. Claude was relieved that she could rest. She would certainly need it.

There was a knock at the door. Claude went to answer it, but not before kissing Esmeralda's forehead and adjusting the sheets over her.

When he opened the door, he was met with a guard and a distressed Phoebus.

"I came right away!" Phoebus reported. "Is she alright?!"

"Yes." Claude replied. "She's asleep now."

He left the room to join Phoebus in the corridor, closing the door behind him.

"Oh, thank God!" Phoebus sighed. "I was so worried when I heard..."

Claude had sent guards to both Quasimodo and Phoebus when Esmeralda had been hurt, but it had taken longer for the latter to arrive, since he lived farther away. It was unfortunate that Phoebus wouldn't be able to see Esmeralda tonight, but he was nevertheless glad to be aware that she was alive.

"Think she'll mind if I drop in tomorrow?" Phoebus asked.

"Not at all." Claude replied.

"Then I'll be here. What about Quasimodo? Does he know?"

Claude realized he didn't know where Quasimodo and Elaine were. He looked in both directions of the hallway, but they were nowhere in sight.

"He was here..." Claude said confusedly. "I don't know where he went, but he was able to see her."

"Good. I... Understand they had a falling out."

"Well, I think they've worked it out."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Phoebus spoke with the same cold tone he typically was with Claude, but Claude wasn't bothered by it. He knew Phoebus really was thankful for the good news, even if he didn't like who he was hearing it from.

"I'd better be going." Phoebus decided. "Let Esmeralda know I'll be visiting."

"I will." Claude promised.

The guard escorted Phoebus away. Claude looked through the empty corridor again. He sighed. Perhaps Quasimodo hadn't been able to endure being around him any longer than it took to see Esmeralda. That was understandable, but Claude found himself brooding over it. Could this night get any worse?

He ended up resorting to alcohol once again, since nothing else seemed capable of easing his troubled state. He made no attempt to be refined about it, simply treading through the hallways, drinking wine straight from the bottle and criticizing himself between every sip.

But a surprise awaited him when he came to pass the room where Esmeralda now slept. Not far away, Quasimodo was sitting against a wall, crouched over in obvious depression.

Claude was taken off guard by the sight. He briefly debated what he should do, but the answer came to him without much thought. He approached the sad bell ringer slowly. Quasimodo looked up when Claude came to stand in front of him. As they looked at each other silently, Claude offered the bottle to the younger man. Quasimodo hesitated, but soon took the bottle and started to drink from it. Claude sat down next to him.

"How is she doing?" Quasimodo asked.

"She's sleeping, thankfully." Claude replied.

Quasimodo set the bottle down.

"I was so afraid I'd lost her..." He said sorrowfully.

"You and I both, Quasimodo..." Claude returned, picking up the bottle and taking another sip.

They both stopped talking for a moment. Claude decided to bring up what he'd been thinking.

"I thought you left." He said curiously.

"Elaine did." Quasimodo explained. "I just... Went for a walk."

He yawned.

Claude realized how far into the night they were getting.

"It's getting late." He observed. "Why don't you stay the night?"

"Stay?" Quasimodo questioned. "But... I have to ring the bells in the morning."

"I'll send a message to the archdeacon." Claude assured. "He can find someone to fill in for you."

"Really? But I've never..."

"Don't worry about it. No one will mind if you take a morning off."

Claude asked a guard to send the message, then guided Quasimodo to a bedroom. The bell ringer was quick to climb on the bed to see how it felt, since he'd never slept on a real mattress. He laid himself down to take in the feeling of it. It was a good feeling.

"How is it?" Claude asked.

"Nice..." Quasimodo replied. "I can't believe I've never had one of these."

"I'd be glad to have that fixed." Claude offered.

"...Thanks." Quasimodo managed.

He eyed Claude silently, trying to think of a way to bring up everything he was curious about.

"Is there something you want to say?" Claude asked.

He worried he would hear something angry after asking that, but what he heard instead was completely unexpected.

"How long has your hair been like that?" Quasimodo asked.

Claude realized the return of his natural curls had not gone unnoticed.

"Since I was bedridden." He replied. "I used to straighten it, but I didn't when I was hurt. Esmeralda told me it wasn't as bad as I thought, so I kept it this way."

Quasimodo couldn't believe he'd never known that Frollo had naturally curly hair. But then again, there seemed to be a good many things he didn't know about the man.

"I have more questions." He informed.

"Ask them." Claude permitted.

Quasimodo took a moment to decide what to ask first. Since Esmeralda was on his mind, he chose to start with her.

"How long have you and Esmeralda been in love?"

Claude wished he'd been asked a less awkward question, but he couldn't blame Quasimodo for being curious about this.

"Not terribly long." He replied. "We were friends... And then one day we realized we wanted to be more than friends. Things just... Progressed."

That was reasonable enough. Quasimodo accepted the answer, though he would have to ask Esmeralda for more information later. Right now he had something more important to inquire about.

"Why are you being so nice?" He questioned.

Claude looked at the bell ringer silently. He wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"I'm trying to save you trouble." He finally replied. "At this time of night, it's easier for you to stay here."

"That's not what I mean." Quasimodo said coldly. "I'm asking why you're... The way you are. All my life you've been a terrible person, and now suddenly you tell the truth and treat people well. Why the sudden change? And why were so bad for so long? I just don't understand! You've never looked out for me like this! You always hated me! You called me a monster! Why?!"

Claude was overwhelmed, both by Quasimodo's sudden change of mood and by the answers he was being asked for. He took a breath before answering.

"I treated you that way because I envied you." Claude replied.

Quasimodo's mouth dropped open.

"What?" He asked in shock. "You envied... ME?"

It was unbelievable. What could possibly have caused the Minister of Justice to feel jealous of a deformed boy?!

"...Why?" Quasimodo questioned.

Claude closed his eyes in a sigh.

"Because you were loved." He replied.

Quasimodo stared at him silently, struggling to take in what he'd just heard. Was he to understand that Judge Claude Frollo... Felt unloved?

"Your parents loved you." Claude reminded. "Your mother even died trying to protect you. I... I never had anyone to love me like that."

"...Didn't you have a family?" Quasimodo asked. "You must have. At some point..."

"Not a loving one." Claude said sadly.

Quasimodo was speechless. He wanted to ask about this, but it felt too rude. Claude read his mind.

"You can ask me anything." He assured. "I won't be offended."

It was certainly tempting to avoid giving details, but Claude remembered what Elaine had said about Quasimodo needing answers, and he was willing to share anything if it meant Quasimodo would feel better.

"How... How bad were they?" Quasimodo asked nervously.

Claude took a moment to work up the nerve to answer.

"...Bad enough to give me that scar on my chest." He replied.

Quasimodo was struck with horror. He struggled to even think of another question.

Claude decided to take care of that for him.

"How much do you want to know?" Claude asked with dread.

"Um... Everything." Quasimodo replied. "But... Only if you want to tell me."

Claude was hesitant to share these things, but he realized that he did want to. He knew by now that the secrets were a burden. Telling them to Esmeralda and Jean had helped, but Claude wanted someone else to know.

Taking a deep breath, he went to lie on the bed next to Quasimodo, who lay on his side facing him and prepared to listen. Claude closed his eyes, since he didn't feel prepared to say these things unless he pretended to be alone.

He told Quasimodo everything. He relayed the horrors of his childhood and the ways he'd been taught to think. He explained how his obsession with perfection had led him to such a twisted view of the world. He shared how he had come to his senses and how Esmeralda had been involved in it. He told the whole story.

Quasimodo learned everything Esmeralda already knew. Claude didn't spare any of the difficult details. He spoke of the nightmares, the madness, the abuse...

At moments he slightly teared up. But unbeknownst to Claude, Quasimodo was tearing up more than him. The bell ringer felt more sympathy than he'd ever thought he could feel for the man who had raised him. Suddenly, Judge Claude Frollo wasn't an overpowered man who got whatever he wanted and never struggled. Now he was just a man. A man who had been through too much...

Claude finally opened his eyes to find the tearful eyes of Quasimodo looking at him.

"I'm so sorry..." Quasimodo said compassionately. "I had no idea..."

"No one did..." Claude said as he wiped his eyes. "I was lonely for a horribly long time. But..."

He finally brought himself to make eye contact.

"You did so much for that, Quasimodo." Claude shared. "That's why I never missed a chance to see you. I didn't admit it to myself, but I liked your company. You've always been so good... So much more than I deserved... I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that."

"I understand why." Quasimodo assured. "I understand everything now, and I'm sorry all that happened to you..."

He trailed off as he searched for words, but he found them quickly.

"I know I never said it but... I love you."

Claude was taken by surprise.

"Are you serious?" Claude asked.

"I mean it." Quasimodo swore. "I never said it because I never thought you wanted to hear it. I didn't think you cared if anyone loved you. But I do. I always have. I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I'm sorry you thought no one loved you..."

Claude looked at Quasimodo in shock.

"I was horrible to you..." He said regretfully.

"But you raised me." Quasimodo reminded. "You taught me how to carve wood. You tucked me in at night. You took care of me. You were my father..."

Claude couldn't believe he'd failed to realize that someone had loved him for twenty years. He'd never once expected love from the child he'd raised so poorly. Respect, yes. But not love.

"I love you." Quasimodo repeated. "I really do."

Claude shed a tear.

"I know I'm awfully late to say this," He started. "But I love you too."

Quasimodo had always wanted to hear that. It had seemed impossible for so long, but things had really changed. Claude Frollo was no longer a madman. He'd found it in him to love.

"Can I... Hug you?" Quasimodo asked.

Claude nodded.

Quasimodo put his strong arms around him, and Claude returned the embrace. They were silent for a few minutes, until Quasimodo whispered something.

"I forgive you." He said sincerely.

Claude felt his eyes gush.

"Thank you..." He sobbed.