12
THE smell hit Quasimodo's lungs like a poison. His throat burned, and his eyes stung with tears he couldn't afford to shed. Fire. Somewhere ahead, the flames were growing, and somewhere in the middle of it all was Madellaine.
He ran faster, faster than his body should allow, his heart pounding like it would tear through his chest. Sarousch's cruel laugh echoed in his mind. The image of Madellaine—tied up, surrounded by flames—haunted him, driving him into a blind panic. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop.
The heat was rising, thick smoke filling the air, choking him, but he pushed through it. "Madellaine!" he tried to shout, but his voice was already ragged, barely a whisper against the roar of the flames.
The darkened hallways of Notre Dame twisted around him, stone and shadows blurring together. But none of it mattered. All that mattered was reaching her in time—if there was still time.
He had to get to her. Before it was too late.
Quasimodo's legs burned as he ran, every breath feeling harder with the thick smoke filling the air. His eyes watered, both from the smoke and the fear that gripped his chest. The fire was close—too close. The flickering light from the flames danced on the walls, casting long shadows that seemed to mock his desperation.
"Madellaine!" he tried again, his voice hoarse, cracking with fear. No answer. Just the roar of the flames devouring everything in their path.
He turned a corner, nearly slipping on the stone floor, and froze. Smoke billowed ahead, thick and black, rising toward the high ceilings, and through the haze, he saw it—a dull orange glow, too bright, too alive. The fire had already spread.
Panic gripped him like a vice. He was running out of time.
His heart pounded as he pushed forward, the heat scorching his skin. Every second felt like an eternity. The thought of her—bound, helpless, trapped in the middle of this inferno—filled him with a terror so deep it was unbearable.
And then, through the smoke, he saw it. The treasury door. The fire was here.
"Please… no…" he gasped, barely able to breathe through the thick air. He threw himself against the door, forcing it open with all the strength he had left. A wave of heat slammed into him, stealing his breath. He staggered back for a moment, his body screaming for relief, but he couldn't stop now.
"Madellaine!" Quasimodo shouted, his voice breaking with desperation.
Then, as if by a miracle, through the swirling smoke and flames, he saw her—tied up and lying unconscious and still on the stone floor. The fire had already reached the wooden crates piled around her, crawling upward, inching closer to her.
"No!" he cried, the word tearing from his throat, raw and desperate, as he ran toward her without thinking, throwing himself into the room, into the fire. The heat was unbearable, the flames roaring all around him, but none of it mattered. All he could think about was Madellaine. He had to reach her before the flames did.
He reached her and dropped to his knees, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he reached for the ropes. "Madellaine…" he stammered, his voice trembling, barely holding together. His breath came in quick, ragged gasps as panic overwhelmed him. The flames were everywhere, creeping closer, snapping at his heels. "I-I'm here….I'm right here…"
Her eyes fluttered weakly, but she didn't speak. She coughed, her breath sounding shallow and her face turning pale, and Quasimodo's heart nearly stopped. He fumbled with the knots, his large hands clumsy and unsteady. "No, no, no…" he muttered, frustration and fear choking him. "Come on…come on!"
The fire roared louder behind him, the heat unbearable. "P-please, hold on!" he begged, his voice cracking. "Just hold on… please…"
At last, the ropes loosened, and without thinking, Quasimodo scooped her into his arms, his whole body trembling with fear. She was so light, so limp, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he might have been too late.
"No… no… Madellaine, stay with me… please…" he whispered, his voice barely a breath. Tears burned in his eyes as he clutched her tighter, panic bubbling up in his chest. "I-I've got you… I've got you… I won't let go…"
The fire was closing in, the heat suffocating, but Quasimodo forced himself to stand. His legs shook, barely holding his weight, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. "We… we're getting out of here… I'll get you out…" he gasped, his words tumbling over each other in desperation.
He staggered toward the door, each step harder than the last. His lungs screamed for air, the smoke so thick he could barely see, barely breathe.
"Almost there…" he whispered, his voice breaking. "Almost…" With a final burst of strength, Quasimodo crashed through the doorway and stumbled into the hallway.
Cool air hit him, but his mind was racing, spinning with terror. He fell to his knees, laying Madellaine gently on the floor, his hands trembling as he brushed her hair from her face.
"M-Madellaine… please… please open your eyes," he begged, his voice shaking. "Don't… don't leave me…"
For a moment, everything was still, and the silence was suffocating. Then, slowly, her eyes fluttered open, weak and unfocused. Quasimodo's breath caught in his throat as she slowly turned her head and managed to look at him, relief flooding him as she did, but fear still gnawed at his heart.
"I-I'm going to get help," he whispered, his voice shaky, thick with emotion. "J-just hold on… please… hold on…"
To his surprise, Madellaine stretched out her hand, her hand weakly reaching for his. "Q-Quasi, wait, I…I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice so soft he could barely hear her through the distant crackling of the flames. "I'm so sorry, Quasimodo…"
Tears blurred in his vision as he looked down at her, his heart shattering at the sight of her lying there, so broken and fragile. "Shh," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't talk. You're going to be okay. I'm going to get you help."
But Madellaine shook her head, squeezing onto his hand with as much strength as she could muster, though her grip was weak. "No…I-I need you to know….I—I never meant to hurt you. I-I was so scared…"
Quasimodo's chest tightened painfully, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Don't… don't say that," he choked out. "You're going to be fine. I'll get help, and we'll fix this. I promise."
But Madellaine's grip on his hand weakened, her eyes slipping closed once more.
"No… no, please, Madellaine," Quasimodo begged, his voice cracking. "Please don't leave me. Please."
Quasimodo's heart pounded in his chest as he tightly clutched Madellaine's hand, his mind racing. Every second felt like an eternity, and all he could do was pray that she would hold on.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, sharp and quick. Quasimodo's head snapped up in the direction of the sound, his heart leaping in his chest. Through the haze of smoke and panic, he heard a voice already barking orders—familiar and commanding.
"Phoebus!" Quasimodo whispered, hope flooding through him, almost choking him. His voice was raw and hoarse, barely there, but the relief was so overwhelming it nearly knocked him over. The heavy footsteps grew louder, closer, until at last, through the swirling smoke, Phoebus appeared, his face pale with shock and alarm.
"Quasi!" Phoebus shouted, his eyes wide as he took in the scene—the fire raging behind them, the flames licking at the walls.
Madellaine lay motionless at Quasimodo's feet, and the horror on Phoebus's face was unmistakable.
"Quasi! I was just coming to check on you and see how you were holding up!" Phoebus exclaimed. "My men and I saw the smoke from outside and feared the worst. What happened? Are you hurt? Is she—" His voice faltered, stopping mid-sentence as he quickly took in the scene. Quasimodo's heart pounded in his chest, and he shook his head, struggling to find his voice.
"She—she's alive," Quasimodo rasped, his voice cracking as his eyes filled with fresh tears. "But we—we n-need to get her help. Please…Phoebus….help me…" He could barely form the words, his throat thick with fear and exhaustion.
Phoebus's face tightened with determination. He turned sharply, barking orders to the soldiers behind him. "You, two of you, get buckets! We need water now! And the rest of you, help clear the way—this fire is spreading fast!"
The soldiers snapped into action, their hurried movements filling the hallway as they rushed to do as Phoebus commanded. The Archdeacon appeared, followed by nuns in white habits, their faces filled with concern as they moved quickly, trying to contain the growing flames.
"We have to stop it before it spreads through the whole wing!" Phoebus shouted to the Archdeacon, who nodded, his expression grim.
Quasimodo could hardly hear the rest, his world narrowing to Madellaine in his arms, her shallow breaths barely audible over the chaos. He squeezed her hand tighter, his heart aching with fear. The flames roared in the distance, but help was here. Hope was here.
Phoebus knelt beside Quasimodo, his face tense with urgency. He glanced at the fire, then back at Madellaine, still unconscious in Quasimodo's arms.
"Quasi, listen to me," Phoebus said, gripping his shoulder firmly. "Take her up to the bell tower. It's safe there, far away from the flames. Don't leave her side—no matter what happens here. Keep her safe."
Quasimodo's heart pounded in his chest, the weight of everything pressing down on him. The words he knew he needed to speak stuck in his throat, tangled by fear and panic.
"P-Phoebus, wait," Quasimodo stammered, his voice shaking as he tried to speak, "it—it was Sarousch…"
Phoebus froze, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Quasimodo. "What?" he asked sharply, his tone incredulous with shock and disbelief.
"S-Sarousch…." Quasimodo's breath hitched as the words tumbled out in a rush. "He—he set the fire, Phoebus. He…he tried to….he tried to kill her!" His hands shook as he clutched Madellaine's limp form closer to his chest, his voice breaking with desperation. "I—I tried to stop him, but…he tied her up and—Phoebus, he almost—almost…"
Phoebus's face hardened with anger as he processed Quasimodo's words. His eyes flicked to the growing flames, and then back to Quasi.
"Sarousch," he growled, his voice low with fury. "How could I have been such a fool to let this happen? My men and I should have found him sooner. That bastard…"
Quasimodo nodded frantically, his words tumbling over each other. "I—I got her out, Phoebus, but I—I don't know what to do. What if she—" His voice cracked, unable to finish the thought, his eyes brimming with fear and guilt.
Phoebus knelt beside him, his expression shifting from anger to urgency. "Quasi, listen to me. Get her to the bell tower. It's safe there. We'll handle Sarousch." He stood, shouting to his soldiers, "We've got to contain this fire before it spreads any further. Sarousch is responsible! Spread out—find him!"
Quasimodo barely heard Phoebus's orders, his mind spinning, still trying to grasp what had happened. He looked down at Madellaine, her pale face almost ghostly against the flickering light of the flames, and he felt his heart twist painfully in his chest.
"Go, Quasi," Phoebus urged, his voice gentler now but firm. "Take her and don't leave her side."
Quasimodo nodded weakly, struggling to stand as the weight of everything overwhelmed him. His legs felt like lead, his mind foggy with fear, but he knew what he had to do.
He wasn't going to lose her. Not like this.
As Quasimodo struggled to lift Madellaine in his arms, suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the smoke-filled corridor. His head snapped up just in time to see Esmeralda rushing toward him, with Zephyr trailing right behind her, Djali at his heels.
"Quasi!" Esmeralda called, her face filled with fear and confusion. She froze as she took in the flames, the soldiers, and Quasi holding Madellaine unconscious in his arms. "What's going on? We came to—"
But Phoebus cut her off as he shot to his feet, his face darkening with anger and worry. "Esmeralda, get out of here! Take Zephyr and go, now!"
"But I can help, Phoebus!" Esmeralda protested, glancing from Quasimodo to Madellaine, then back to the fire. "What's happening? Let me do something!"
"No!" Phoebus snapped, his voice hard with urgency. "This is no place for you or Zephyr. It's too dangerous." He looked at his wife, his face set in a determined, protective expression. "Please, Esmeralda. Get him out of here. I'll explain everything later. I promise."
Esmeralda frowned, clearly torn, but Zephyr tugged her hand, his eyes wide with fear and curiosity. "Mama, why's everything on fire? What happened? Why is Quasi holding Madellaine? I-is she hurt? Where's Papa going?"
Quasimodo, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts that burned his lungs, tried to respond, but the words got stuck in his throat. He opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a weak, "I-I…"
Phoebus turned to Quasimodo again, urgency dripping from his tone. "Quasi, take Madellaine to the bell tower! Get her out of here, now! She'll be safe there. I'll come find you once we've put out the fire!"
Esmeralda stepped forward, ignoring Phoebus's orders, her eyes locking on Madellaine's still form. "Quasi, let me help. You can't carry her alone." Her voice softened as she placed a hand on his arm. "Please, Quasi, let me help you."
Quasimodo, trembling with fear and exhaustion, looked up at her, his throat tight. "I-I don't know… I-I can't—" he stammered, his words breaking apart as he tried to form a coherent thought. His grip on Madellaine tightened. "Please… I don't know what to do…"
Esmeralda's eyes filled with understanding, and she gently placed her other hand on his shoulder. "We'll do it together, Quasi. We'll keep her safe."
Zephyr, wide-eyed, continued to tug on Quasi's tunic, his little voice rapid with questions. "Why is there smoke? Why's she sleeping? Is she sick? Did something bad happen? Why are you scared, Quasi?"
Quasimodo looked down at Zephyr, completely overwhelmed, his heart pounding in his chest. "I-I…" he stammered again, the words failing him, his mind spinning too fast to make sense of Zephyr's barrage of questions.
Phoebus, seeing the chaos building, grabbed Zephyr's hand firmly. "Zephyr, enough!" he said, his tone gentler but urgent. "Go with your mother. This isn't a place for you right now."
Zephyr looked up at his father, confused but quiet, and then back at Quasimodo and Madellaine. "But—"
"No more questions, young man," Phoebus barked, his eyes softening as he glanced at his son. "Just go with Mama."
Esmeralda nodded to her husband before turning back to Quasimodo, her expression steady. "Let's get her to the bell tower, Quasi. She'll be safe there. We'll take care of her."
Quasimodo nodded, his breath shaky, and together, they moved carefully, carrying Madellaine up the twisting stairs of Notre Dame, away from the flames, and toward safety.
They finally reached the bell tower, the faint echo of the fire still roaring in the distance below. Quasimodo, gasping for breath, carefully carried Madellaine into his small, tucked-away sleeping nook in the loft. His legs were trembling, and his lungs were burning, but he knew they were safe here, away from the fire.
Esmeralda followed closely behind, her face tight with worry, but her eyes were focused on calm. "Here," she said softly, guiding Quasimodo as he gently laid Madellaine down on his bed—nothing more than a pile of blankets, but they were soft enough and would keep her warm.
He knelt beside her, his hands shaking as he touched her face, desperately searching for any sign of improvement.
Esmeralda knelt too, brushing back Madellaine's hair with a gentle hand. "She's breathing," she said, her voice steady but tense. "That's good. But we need to keep her calm, and make sure the smoke hasn't done too much damage."
Quasimodo nodded quickly, his mind spinning, unsure of what to do next. "I—I don't know how to help her," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I… I'm scared…"
"You've already done so much, Quasi," Esmeralda said firmly, giving him a reassuring look. "You saved her from that fire. Now we'll keep her safe."
Zephyr, standing nearby, shifted from foot to foot, his little face scrunched in worry. "Can I help too?" he asked, his voice small but full of determination. "I wanna help her, Quasi…"
Quasimodo looked up at Zephyr, his chest tightening. "Y-Yes, Zephyr, you-you can," he stammered, unsure of what task to give the eager child.
Esmeralda smiled softly at her son, though Quasimodo could still see the worry flickering in her eyes. "Zeph, why don't you go and find a bowl of water and a clean cloth? We need to cool her down a little."
Zephyr nodded eagerly and rushed off to find what his mother asked for. Quasimodo watched him go, then turned his attention back to Madellaine, still pale and motionless. His heart squeezed painfully. Was she going to wake up?
Suddenly, a soft scuttling sound broke the quiet. Quasimodo's head jerked up towards the noise, and there, darting forward from a small shadowy corner of the loft, was Boots. The little mouse skittered across the floor, moving frantically as if he sensed something was wrong.
"Boots…" Quasimodo whispered, his eyes widening as the mouse scampered right up to Madellaine's side, its tiny paws pressing against her blanket as it sniffed at her, clearly distressed.
The sight made Quasimodo's heart twist even more. He had seen how much Madellaine loved that little mouse—how it was always by her side. Now it was here, as if trying to understand what had happened, just as he was.
Esmeralda reached out gently, letting Boots climb onto her hand for a moment. "Even Boots knows something's wrong," she murmured, her voice soft as she watched the tiny creature's anxious movements.
Quasimodo could only nod, his throat tight. "I-I don't know what to do….Esmeralda, I…I don't know if I can save her…"
Esmeralda placed Boots carefully beside Madellaine, then put a steady hand on Quasimodo's shoulder. "You've already saved her once, Quasi. Now, you just need to be here. Sometimes, that's the most important thing."
Quasimodo swallowed hard, looking down at Madellaine's pale face, then at Boots, who curled up next to her, as if guarding her. He took a shaky breath, his heart full of hope and fear all at once.
"I-I'll stay with her," he whispered. "I won't leave her side."
Quasimodo stayed kneeling beside Madellaine. His hands trembled as he gingerly brushed strands of her hair away from her face, trying to calm his own shaking nerves. He had never felt so helpless. The fire, the fear—it all clung to him like a fog.
Esmeralda sat beside him, watching Madellaine's shallow breaths. She sensed Quasi's inner turmoil, the tension still gripping him.
"Quasi," she asked softly, her eyes full of concern, "what happened? Who did this?"
Quasimodo's jaw clenched, his eyes filled with pain as he looked at Esmeralda. The words felt heavy, but he forced them out, his voice trembling with both anger and guilt. "It… it was Sarousch."
Esmeralda froze for a moment, her eyes widening. She turned to look at Quasi, her expression shifting quickly from shock to fury.
"Sarousch? He did this?" Her voice was sharp, dripping with anger. "That snake. I should have known he was behind all this…I've seen the way she looks whenever the circus is brought up. She never wants to talk about it. She was so scared yesterday during lunch when we tried to ask her more about herself. I wondered if she wasn't being treated well. But for him to do this? To set a fire, to almost kill her?"
Quasimodo nodded slowly, his throat tight. "He—he tricked her… She trusted him, and h-he tied her up… I tried to save her, but the fire…" His voice cracked, overwhelmed by the memory of the flames nearly taking Madellaine.
Esmeralda's eyes narrowed, her fury building. She clenched her fists, her face hardened in a way Quasimodo rarely saw. "When we leave, before taking Zephyr home, I'll head to the Court of Miracles and talk to Clopin. If Sarousch is still in the city, he'll know. He'll spread the word and make sure Sarousch can't hide."
Quasimodo felt the color drain from his face at the mention of Clopin. A lump formed in his throat as memories of that horrible moment six years ago rushed back—the moment Clopin had nearly hanged him and Phoebus in the Court of Miracles, simply for entering to save Esmeralda. A low growl escaped him, and the emotions he had been bottling up—fear, panic, exhaustion—shifted, giving way to a darker force. His teeth clenched as an unexpected fury rose within him.
"Clopin?" he spat, his voice tight. He turned to face Esmeralda, his eyes dark with frustration. "You…you're going to ask him for help? Why?!"
Esmeralda blinked, startled by his reaction. "Quasi, I—"
"You want him to help?" Quasimodo's voice rose, his anger bubbling over. "After what he did? He tried to hang me, Esmeralda!" Quasimodo burst out, his voice shaking. "Do you think I've forgotten? He wanted me—and Phoebus—dead! Just because we came to help you! How can you still trust him?"
Esmeralda's shocked expression softened, but she didn't back down. "Quasi, that was years ago. Clopin made a mistake. He thought you and Phoebus were working for Frollo. He didn't know—"
"He didn't care!" Quasimodo cut her off, his demeanor angry, his voice filled with hurt. "He didn't care about who I was or what I was trying to do. He was ready to…to kill me!" His hands tightened into fists, the burning feeling in his lungs worsening as his anger grew. "How can you just forget that?"
Esmeralda let out a frustrated sigh, though her gaze was gentle and understanding. "I'm not asking you to forget, Quasi. I'm asking you to trust that I know what I'm doing. Clopin and his people can help us find Sarousch before he gets away or worse, causes even more harm."
Quasimodo angrily shook his head, his voice quieter but still full of anger. "I…I can't, Esmeralda. I—I can't trust him. Not after what he did."
Esmeralda knelt back down beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "I understand why you feel that way, Quasi. I do. But right now, Madellaine needs our help. And Sarousch is out there, still a threat. Please. Let me do this—for her."
Quasimodo's heart ached as he looked down at Madellaine, lying so still on the blankets. He couldn't lose her. He wouldn't. But the thought of Clopin, of the noose tightening around his neck, filled him with a bitterness he couldn't shake.
Before Quasimodo could respond, the sound of quick footsteps echoed up the stairs. Zephyr came running into the loft, holding a bowl of water and a damp cloth. His little face was determined, though his eyes were wide with worry.
"I brought the water, Mama!" Zephyr called, hurrying toward them and setting the bowl down next to Esmeralda. "Is Madellaine gonna wake up soon? Can I help?"
Esmeralda smiled softly at her son, brushing a hand through his hair. "You've been a big help already, Zephyr. Let's see if we can cool her down a little."
Quasimodo watched silently as Esmeralda dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out, placing it gently on Madellaine's forehead. Zephyr hovered beside her, his eyes full of questions.
"Why is she still asleep? Is she gonna be okay? Why is it so smoky outside? Did something bad happen?" Zephyr fired off questions faster than Quasimodo could process.
Quasimodo's heart clenched as he tried to respond, his voice faltering. "I-I… I don't know, Zephyr. I… I don't know what's going to happen." His voice cracked with uncertainty, the weight of everything pressing down on him.
Zephyr, frowning, looked from Quasimodo to Madellaine. "But we have to make sure she wakes up, right? You're not gonna let anything bad happen to her, are you, Quasi?"
Quasimodo blinked, tears welling up as he struggled to keep his voice steady. "N-no, I won't. I'll do everything I can…"
Esmeralda, sensing the tension in the air, gave Quasimodo a reassuring look. "Zephyr, why don't you help me with the cloth? We'll keep her cool, and that'll help."
Zephyr nodded eagerly, his small hands dipping into the water to help his mother. Quasimodo sat back slightly, his heart still heavy with everything swirling in his mind—Sarousch, Clopin, the past, and now Madellaine lying so still before him.
Esmeralda stood, her expression both firm and kind. "I'll go see Clopin. I promise, Quasi, you won't have to deal with him. But we need all the help we can get."
Quasimodo looked down at Madellaine, her pale face soft under the cool cloth, and his anger wavered. He couldn't lose her. Not now.
"I'll take care of her," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "I won't leave her side."
Esmeralda smiled softly, placing a hand on his shoulder before turning to leave with Zephyr. "She's in good hands, Quasi. Just stay with her. You need to be here with her when she wakes up. I'll be back soon."
As Esmeralda and Zephyr began to head toward the stairs, Quasimodo's heart raced. A thought suddenly struck him, cutting through the swirl of emotions. He shot up, panic flickering in his eyes as the realization hit him.
"Wait—Esmeralda!" Quasimodo called, his voice trembling with urgency. She stopped and turned back, concern etched on her face.
"What is it, Quasi?" she asked gently.
Quasimodo fidgeted, his hands wringing together as he tried to find the words. "Erik… and Colette… her friends, from the circus. They—they should know. Madellaine… she… they care about her, and they should know what happened. B-but…" He hesitated, his voice faltering as his worry took over. "I-I don't know if they should come right now. I mean, w-with everything… I'm not sure…"
Esmeralda took a step closer, her eyes soft with understanding as she listened to his stammering explanation. "You're right, Quasi. They deserve to know. I'll go to the circus camp and wake them up. They'd want to be here for her."
Quasimodo nodded quickly, though his face was still filled with uncertainty. "Y-yes… I just—" He glanced down at Madellaine's still face, then back at Esmeralda. "What if it's too much for them? I mean, seeing her like this… they'd be worried, but what if—what if it makes things worse?"
Esmeralda smiled softly, stepping forward to place a reassuring hand on his arm. "Quasi, they're her friends. They'll want to be here for her, just like you are. But if you think they should wait until she's stronger, I'll explain that to them. We don't want to overwhelm her right now."
Quasimodo bit his lip, his eyes flickering between Madellaine and Esmeralda. "I… I don't want them to see her like this… but I also don't want to keep them in the dark. Erik and Colette—they've always looked out for her. I-I don't know what the right thing is."
Esmeralda squeezed his arm gently, her voice calm and reassuring. "I'll talk to them, Quasi. I'll explain everything. They'll understand."
Quasimodo nodded, still nervous but grateful. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice small but full of emotion. "I-I don't know what to do without your help."
Esmeralda smiled warmly at him, her eyes filled with compassion. "You're doing everything you can, Quasi. I'll make sure Erik and Colette know what's going on. We'll figure this out together." With a final reassuring glance, she turned to leave, Zephyr and Djali following close behind.
Quasimodo watched them go, his heart still heavy, but with a little less weight knowing that help was on the way. He turned back to Madellaine, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and whispered, "Your friends will be here soon, Madellaine. Just hold on… please…"
As Quasimodo knelt beside Madellaine, his heart pounded. The room felt heavy and silent now that Esmeralda and Zephyr were gone, so different from the chaos they'd just escaped. The burning feeling in his lungs had calmed slightly, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was Madellaine. She wasn't moving. He squeezed her hand, hoping—begging—she'd open her eyes. She had to.
But then, like a shadow creeping in, Frollo's voice whispered in his mind. Cold, cruel.
'You think if she survives, she'll love you, Quasimodo? You of all creatures? Foolish boy, as always. You'll never learn that no one could ever love a creature like you.'
Quasimodo froze, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn't the dim room that scared him—it was the voice. His voice. Out of the shadows, Frollo's ghostly image appeared, dark robes swirling, colorless grey eyes sharp and mocking.
'Just look at you. Hoping for something that will never be. You're nothing but a monster. If she survives, she will leave you. Just like they all do, Quasimodo.'
Quasimodo shook his head, but the words burrowed deep into his heart. He wanted to shout, to scream, but the doubt gnawed at him. What if Frollo was right? What if he was always right?
"No," Quasimodo whispered, but it sounded weak, hollow. His fists clenched at his sides, but the strength he sought wasn't there. The weight of Frollo's voice, the years of cruelty, crashed over him like a tidal wave, dragging him down. He had never been enough. He had never deserved love.
Frollo's sneer deepened, his voice smooth and sharp. 'You've always been weak. Pathetic. Clinging to false hope. Do you think anyone could love something as wretched as you? You'll always be the monster I raised you to be.'
Quasimodo's heart pounded, each word sinking in, wrapping around him like chains. The shadows seemed to grow darker, colder, and suffocating. His grip on Madellaine's hand faltered, the warmth slipping away. What if Frollo was right? What if she left him, just like the others?
His chest tightened, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He could hear Frollo's voice clearer than ever, cutting through him like a knife.
"No," Quasimodo whispered again, but this time even quieter, as if he was convincing himself.
'You failed to save her,' Frollo's voice whispered, softer now, more insidious. 'You always fail. It's who you are.'
Quasimodo felt the world closing in. His body trembled, and his legs felt weak. Maybe Frollo was right. Maybe he was always right.
But then, out of the darkness, he felt a touch. Madellaine's hand in his. Small, but steady. She hadn't let go. Her presence was real. She cared for him. His heart trembled, but the smallest flicker of hope pushed through the suffocating shadows.
"You don't control me anymore!" Quasimodo shouted, his voice shaking, but louder now. "You have no power over me! Not as long as I have her!"
Frollo's sneer wavered, but only for a moment. 'Fool. You're deluding yourself. Love? What do you know of love? You'll lose her just as you've lost everyone else.'
Quasimodo winced, the words striking him like a blow, but he clenched his fists tighter. His fear roared louder inside him. "I… I love her," he stammered, voice cracking. "A-and she… she loves me, I—I think. But even if she doesn't—" He hesitated, his heart pounding.
What if she didn't? What if she left him too?
Frollo's ghost flickered, growing weaker, but still there, clinging to Quasimodo's doubt. 'You are nothing without me. I made you. Without me, you're worthless.'
Quasimodo's breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around him. Worthless. He had heard it so many times. Frollo's voice thundered in his mind, a storm of doubt and pain. But then, beneath it all, something small and fierce sparked inside him. He wasn't nothing. Not anymore. The thought grew, burning brighter, cutting through the storm.
"N-no, you're...you're wrong. I-I'm not nothing," he said softly at first, but then louder, more certain. "I'm more than what you said I was. I'm more than your cruelty. I have people who care about me. People I love." He looked down at Madellaine, his voice softening. "And I love her." He glanced back at Frollo, eyes fierce. "You will never understand love. You only knew how to control and destroy. But I'm free of you now. I don't need your approval. I don't need your voice in my head anymore."
Frollo's ghost flickered, his form fading more rapidly as Quasimodo's words unraveled him.
'You cannot escape me, Quasimodo,' he snarled, his voice weaker but still desperate, clawing for control.
"I already have," Quasimodo said, calm but firm. "You're just a shadow. And now, I'm letting you go."
Frollo's image twisted one last time before vanishing into the darkness. The shadows that once haunted Quasimodo's mind were gone, and for the first time in his life, the silence in the room felt like peace. Quasimodo let out a shaky breath, heart still racing, but it wasn't from fear anymore. It was from the release of a burden he had carried for so long. Frollo was gone. For good. And he would never let that voice haunt him again.
Suddenly, the quiet was broken by a sound—a loud crack that reverberated throughout the tower and the soft shuffle of stone against the wooden floorboards. Quasimodo's heart skipped a beat, his instincts heightened, and every fiber of his being was on edge. He looked around the dim loft, his eyes narrowing as a familiar voice broke the tension.
"Quasi! What's going on out here?" Hugo called as he, Victor, and Laverne rushed into the loft, their faces filled with concern. Hugo quickly moved to Quasimodo's side, his eyes widening at the sight of Madellaine. "Whoa! What happened? She doesn't look too good, kid." His tone softened as he noticed Quasimodo trembling. "Quasi, buddy, you alright? You're shaking like a leaf."
Victor's brow furrowed as he shuffled closer, his wings giving a small flap. "It's not just him, Hugo. Look at the poor girl. She's barely breathing."
Laverne, who had been quiet so far, squinted down at Madellaine, her usual sarcasm replaced by genuine fear and worry. "Oh no, this is bad. Really bad. You didn't sign up for this kind of heartbreak, sweetie."
Quasimodo could only nod, unable to speak past the tightness in his throat. The fear that had gripped him in the fire hadn't loosened its hold.
"I…I don't know what to do," he finally whispered, his voice strained. "I don't know if she's going to wake up."
Victor sighed deeply, his stone features softening. "The human heart is a fragile thing, Quasimodo. But you've done more for her than most would even dare to try. You saved her."
Hugo, always the comic relief, was uncharacteristically subdued. He shuffled closer to Quasimodo, his voice barely above a murmur. "You've got a heart of gold, Quasi. That's gotta count for something."
"But what if it's not enough?" Quasimodo's voice trembled as he looked up at them, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "What if I'm too late?"
Laverne's stony features softened, her tone gentler than usual. "Then you stay. You stay right here, with her. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is be there when someone needs you the most."
Quasimodo nodded, his gaze falling back on Madellaine. Her face was so still, so pale against the flickering light of the candle in the corner. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. The silence of the loft seemed to stretch endlessly, broken only by the faint creak of the wooden beams above and the distant sounds of the city below, still oblivious to the danger that had nearly consumed them.
Victor, ever the philosopher, gave a small cough, his voice deep with thought. "Quasimodo, my dear boy, the flame of love and the fire of life are not so easily extinguished. She's strong, and she'll fight. Just as you have."
Hugo sniffed, nodding vigorously, "Yeah, she's tough. And you've got us watching over you, big guy. Ain't nothing getting past us gargoyles."
Quasimodo managed a weak smile, his heart swelling with gratitude for his friends, but the fear still gnawed at him. He glanced at the small mouse, Boots, curled protectively beside Madellaine. Even her tiny companion seemed to understand the gravity of the moment.
The silence stretched on again, and Quasimodo's thoughts drifted to everything that had happened—the fire, the betrayal, the terror of almost losing Madellaine. His fists clenched as Sarousch's name bubbled to the surface of his mind, and anger flickered through his heart.
"I'll find him," Quasimodo muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl, the sound startling even himself. "He'll pay for what he did to her and to the cathedral."
Laverne, always the voice of wisdom amongst his three stone friends, leaned closer. "Quasi, honey, don't lose yourself to vengeance. Justice, yes, but not anger. Madellaine needs you now. That other stuff can wait."
Victor nodded in agreement. "You've carried so much weight for so long, Quasimodo. Don't let Sarousch add to it. She needs your heart, not your hatred."
Quasimodo looked at his friends, their words slowly sinking in. The fury in his chest ebbed slightly, replaced by a deeper resolve. They were right. His focus needed to be on Madellaine—on helping her heal, not on Sarousch or the fire or the pain of the past.
Quasimodo sat next to Madellaine, holding her hand, tears streaming down his face. The relief of saving her was mixed with enormous guilt and fear. He tried to hold back the sobs, but they came anyway, shaking his whole body. He hadn't realized how much he'd been holding in.
"I…I was so mad at her," Quasimodo whispered through his tears, his voice shaky. "I-I thought she betrayed me, used me. I was so angry with her…and now this…" His words trailed off as the memory of thinking Madellaine had been part of Sarousch's plan flooded his mind. "She almost died, and I…I couldn't even look at her before. I thought she was part of it all."
Victor, Hugo, and Laverne had been quiet, listening to their friend pour out his pain. Victor was the first to move, his usual calm demeanor softening even more as he approached Quasimodo.
"Quasimodo," Victor said gently, placing a hand on Quasimodo's arm. "You were hurt. Anyone would've been. But look at her now—you saved her. You didn't let her down."
Hugo, usually the jokester, wasn't grinning this time. He came closer, scratching his head as he tried to find the right words. "Yeah, big guy, cut yourself some slack. You didn't know. And she didn't do what you thought, right? She's here now because of you."
Quasimodo shook his head, his sobs growing louder. "I was so angry. I thought she was like Sarousch… I thought she was part of his plan. I—I couldn't even look at her." His voice broke, and he covered his face with his free hand, the guilt weighing on him. "But she wasn't. She wasn't, and I almost lost her tonight because I couldn't see it."
Laverne, always the one to cut to the heart of things, finally spoke up. "Listen to me, Quasi. It's okay to feel what you're feeling. You were hurt, you were confused. But don't let that guilt tear you apart. You've been through a lot, and you saved her in the end. That's what counts."
Quasimodo looked up at her, his eyes red and filled with pain. "But I pushed her away… and now she's lying here because of me."
Laverne shook her head and hopped closer. "She's lying here alive because of you, Quasi. You didn't give up on her. You ran into a fire to save her."
Victor gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You were brave, lad. Brave and strong. Don't let guilt overshadow what you've done for her."
Quasimodo still felt the weight of everything pressing down on him, but their words were slowly sinking in. "What if she doesn't forgive me?" he whispered. "What if… I've lost her?"
Hugo leaned in with a determined look. "Are you kidding? When she wakes up, she's gonna see how far you went to save her. No way she won't forgive you."
Quasimodo glanced at Madellaine's peaceful face, still asleep. The knot of fear and guilt tightened, but the gargoyles' words were a comfort, easing the pain bit by bit.
"You have to give yourself a break too, Quasi," Laverne added softly. "You've been through a lot tonight. You made a mistake, sure. We all do. But what matters is that you didn't give up on her when it counted."
Quasimodo sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His sobs quieted, but the guilt still lingered. "I just… I love her," he whispered, surprised to hear the words come out. "And I was so scared of losing her."
Victor gave him a proud look. "You didn't lose her, Quasimodo. She's still here. And when she wakes up, she'll know how much you care. You've already shown her that."
Quasimodo nodded slowly, the tears still glistening on his cheeks, but the weight on his heart began to lift just a little. He looked down at Madellaine again, her hand warm in his. The fear and guilt still twisted inside him, but with his friends by his side, the burden didn't feel so heavy anymore.
He would stay with her, through the night and whatever came next. And when she woke up, he'd tell her everything—how sorry he was, how much he cared. But for now, he was just grateful she was still there, breathing beside him.
The gargoyles stayed close, watching over both Quasimodo and Madellaine. Hugo, trying to lighten the mood, grinned and hopped forward.
"Hey, Quasi, when she wakes up, she's gonna say, 'You're my hero!'" Hugo puffed out his chest, imitating a grand voice. "And she'll be right!"
Quasimodo let out a small chuckle, grateful for his friends. They always knew how to help, even when he was lost in his own emotions.
"You guys are the best," Quasimodo said softly, his voice filled with gratitude.
Victor smiled warmly. "We're family, Quasi. That's what we're here for."
"And don't forget," Hugo added, "when she wakes up, she'll see just how amazing you are!"
Quasimodo smiled more this time. His heart still ached, but the presence of his friends made the fear and guilt just a little easier to bear.
Laverne noticed how Quasimodo's eyelids drooped, his entire body slumping with exhaustion. She moved closer, concern in her voice as she spoke gently, "Quasi, you've got to rest. You're exhausted, and it's not helping anyone."
Quasimodo shook his head, gripping Madellaine's hand even tighter. "I can't, Laverne. What if she wakes up? What if she needs me?"
Victor stepped forward, his tone firm but understanding. "You've done everything you could tonight. You saved her life, Quasi. Now you need to take care of yourself."
Rubbing his eyes, Quasimodo tried to shake off the overwhelming fatigue. "No, I-I need to stay with her, Victor. I can't sleep now."
Laverne crossed her arms, her expression soft but insistent. "You're no good to her if you're running on empty. Let us handle this for a bit. We'll keep an eye on her, you've earned a break."
Hugo hopped over, eager to break the tension. "Yeah, don't worry, big guy! We'll keep watch. And hey, if anything goes wrong, Boots'll handle it. That little mouse has got more spunk than all of us!"
A weak chuckle escaped Quasimodo as he glanced at the tiny mouse curled up beside Madellaine. Boots twitched in his sleep, and despite everything, Hugo's joke managed to bring a small smile to Quasi's face.
Victor placed a steadying hand on Quasimodo's shoulder. "Get some sleep. You need it. We'll make sure everything's alright."
Hesitating, Quasimodo looked down at Madellaine one last time before nodding slowly. "Alright… but wake me if anything happens."
Laverne gave him a reassuring pat. "You've got it. We'll wake you if anything changes."
Slowly, Quasimodo let go of Madellaine's hand and moved to his little corner. His legs felt wobbly, and every part of him ached with exhaustion. He slid down onto the floor, using the wall as a brace for his back, far away enough to give Madellaine the space she needed to rest and recover, yet close by if anything changed. He kept his gaze fixed on her as though he could fight off the sleep threatening to take him.
But sleep was relentless. He blinked hard, trying to keep his eyes open, but his vision blurred and his thoughts grew muddled.
Victor, Laverne, and Hugo exchanged looks, knowing they had to keep their promise. Hugo, unable to resist one last comment, whispered, "I still say Boots could take on a whole battalion if he had to."
Victor rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Hugo…"
Laverne chuckled softly. "Shh, both of you. Let the poor boy sleep."
As Quasimodo finally gave in to his exhaustion and slipped into sleep, the three gargoyles settled in to keep watch over him and Madellaine, their silent promise holding strong through the quiet night.