Quasimodo, My Love:Part Three

Just like the others, this contains stuff created by Victor Hugo and Walt Disney, NOT ME!!! I don't own the Hunchback of Notre Dame!!!
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He held me closer, softly breathing on my ear. I shuddered, his strong arms supporting me by the curve of my lower back, and breathed in his delicious scent. I could smell the light sweat on his skin, mixed with an earthy musk. Our lips embraced, with a force of passion on both parts. His breathing quickened, and my lips parted slightly. Our tongue tips met, and soon embraced. I tasted sweet blackberry wine in his mouth, and my knees soon buckled.
He dipped me onto the bed, running his hands through my hair. he sat beside me, and I felt one of his hands leave my side, and the room went dark. The hand soon returned, and I gratefully stroked his stubbled face. My hands ran through his glossy, black hair, and I began to think of all the things that I loved about him; his smell, his hair, his laugh, his accent, his kiss. I love him, I love him, I love him...
I began to see an image through my closed eyes. As he kissed me all the more passionately each minute, I began to hear bells.
Bells.
The image soon became clear, more focused. I saw a horseshoe mouth, a scrunched up nose, and a large wart that covered one of a pair of blue eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes. I knew those eyes. I knew their wearer. I froze, shocked. As I watched my mind's image, I saw fresh tears spilling out of them.
Oh, Quasi, how could I do this? I was here, kissing a stranger, in an unknown place, hoping that somehow you could possibly possess feelings for me. What was wrong with me?
Clopin paused, confused. He gently pulled away, raising a hand to his face, and was surprised to find my tears there. He reached out to me, only to find more tears running down my cheeks.
"Oh, Clopin." I buried myself in his shoulder, crying my eyes out. His arms raised instinctively to hold me, while he sat, shocked.
"W-what is wrong? Are you hurt? Did I--?"
"Oh no, it's nothing you've done. I just...oh, Clopin."
He sat there, holding me still in his arms. We stayed there for a minute, then he rose, gently pulling me up with him. We walked out of the room, into the next one, finding the men from before passed out in a drunken haze. Clopin rolled his eyes at them, and we soon had exited the Court of Miracles.
We walked along the now dark streets of Paris, keeping our eyes out for guards. Seeing none, Clopin led me to my sleeping house. My room lay on the side of the house, so he carried me in through the window, silently pushing back the shutters. He laid me onto the bed, holding my head in his arms. I cried some more. When I had stopped, I sat up, shuddering a sigh. Clopin held me, rubbing his hands along my arms. Trying to lighten the tone, he spoke:
"Uh, those men, they...should have had a live wire like you to keep them awake, eh? Wow!"
I smiled, looking up at him. How was it that he could make me smile when everything went wrong?
"Clopin, how can I be a Little Priestess when I am so unholy?"
"Haha! Is this what all these tears were for? Don't worry, Ashley, if you are to be unholy, then I most surely will be unholy with you!"
I laughed. "No, it's not that, it's just...God, why am I so cruel to people?"
"Cruel? Ha, if that's what you call "cruel", then I'd love to see your idea of kind!"
I laughed, hugging him. He smiled, laughing back. When we had stopped laughing, he looked out the window, watching the moon. His smile faded, and he looked down at me as if to say, I have to go.
He kissed my forehead, and started to climb out the window, hand on the sill. "Wait!" I held my hand out, as if to stop him from going. He looked back at me, intrigued. My hand returned to my lips, and, blushing, I said: "I mean, would you like to, um, stay the night?"
He drew breath, as if to speak, but didn't respond. He seemed to be in undecided thought. He looked back at the moon, then, lingering for a moment, turned to me, and said:"You know what? My men are asleep, so there's nothing to talk about, and even if they were awake, the only thing to discuss would be my poor leadership skills. Plus, I haven't had a night's sleep in days."
I smiled as he lowered back down onto the bed beside me. "Is your mother a light sleeper?"
"Oh, no; she sleeps like a rock. As long as your gone before seven o'clock, she'll never have known you were here."
He sighed, stretching himself out on the bed, one arm behind his head and the other around me. I smiled, curling myself into his shoulder, hand on his chest. I looked up at his handsome face, a smile upon it that was framed by a short black beard. He opened one eye to look at me. Grinning, he cocked an eyebrow in that mischievious way of his. "What?"
"Your just too breath taking for words."
He rolled his eyes, shifting positions so that he was closer to the headboard. I sighed as i moved closer up onto his warm breast. I knew that I was not going to be able to sort out my situation before morning, so for the time being, I allowed myself to be happy. I fingered the dark purple cloth of his shirt, listening to his breathing. Soon, laying there beside him, I was lulled into a gentle sleep...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ He stared at the sleeping girl laying beside him. He would watch her sleep. Curled up like a child next to him, he scooted her closer to his chest, laying his cheek against her hair. He closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating sleep over watching her, but they were soon opened to the sound of her cries. She was whimpering quietly, as though in pain. Her body curled up, her knees to her chest, her eyes closed tight, biting her teeth together. Her grip had tightened on his shirt, and she talked, as though in a dream, not sure of what she was saying.
"No, no, Fro-llo, no, run..."
He looked at her with concern, realizing that she was having a nightmare. He started to wake her up, afraid that she might scream and awaken her mother. She continued to talk in her sleep.
"No, no, no, Quasi, I...Quasi I love you..."
He froze. He replayed what she had said over and over again in his mind."Quasi I love you...Quasi I love you..."
He looked at her again. She was relaxed now, a small smile on her face. He sighed. Tried to tell himself she was just another girl, plenty more to go around. But she wasn't. She had been different. He had even began to think that he might be--no, impossible. "No matter now," he thought, turning to climb out the window.
Suddenly, her grip tightened again, as though she knew that he was leaving. He looked back. A tiny tear had slid down her face. She began to talk again, curling up again.
"No, no, I don't--know, no, I don't...know...Clopin, I--I love...Clopin I love you."
He sat back, confused. He held her in his arms again, thinking about what she had just said. "Clopin I love you...Clopin I love you..."
"Okay then," he spoke quietly to himself. "I love you too."
She relaxed again, curling herself against his chest once more. She smiled, her tear now dried. His cheek laid against her hair again, he closed his eyes, her breathing a melody in his mind.
"I think."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The first rays of sunlight made me blink my sleepy eyes open. I sat up, stretching my tired limbs, and when I dropped my arms to my sides again, my eyes wavered to my fingertips. I froze. A man was next to me on the bed. I jumped back, frightened,clutching at my chest.
I studied the sleeping face, and when I saw the tan skin, glossy black hair, and short beard, I relaxed, recognizing him as Clopin. Remembering the good parts of last night, I smiled, fancying him a child, dreaming his sweet dreams. My eyes moved to the bedside table, and I caught sight of a broken pair of spectacles. They had broken when I had fainted at the Festival, and I had never bothered to fix them because Clopin had told me that I was prettier without them.
I laid down beside him again, smiling when I felt him stir, hugging him closer. He stretched, yawning, and I soon felt the familiar warmth of his arms on my sides. I hugged his neck, turning up to look at him. He smiled at me, exposing a pyramid-shaped gap in his teeth that I loved, nearly fainting when my tongue had brushed over it the night before.
"Good morning."
His delicious accent curled around my ears, and I leaned my head into his breast again, whispering, "Good morning." I breathed in, hoping for the familiar scent of earth and musk. I did smell it, faintly, but there was another, more common and familiar scent as well. I blushed into sudden realization, and looked up at him, embarrassed. He tried not to, but was obviously having trouble holding his laughter in. When he could hold it in no longer, I heard him say through stifled laughter,"Y-your face--it's as red as a tomato! What's all this blushing for, eh?"
I shyly grinned at him. "You smell like me."
He stared at me a minute, then, covered his mouth, trying not to make noise with his laughing. I hugged his neck again, grinning at my foolishness. He composed himself, holding me in his arms once more, breathing gently on my ear. He fingered my hair, studying each strand and the way it looked in the sunlight. His long fingers slid along my jawline, gently lifting up my chin, leaning his forward towards mine...
We heard a knock at the door.
Clopin froze, then quickly jumped under the bed, away from the door's view. I pulled my blankets up to my chin, half-closing my eyes. My mother's head silently appeared as the door pushed open. She seemed to think that I was asleep, because she smiled, then pulled her head back from the door frame. I didn't pull out of the covers until I heard her shut her own door down the hall.
Clopin pulled himself back onto the bed, sighing. I cast my eyes down, knowing that he would have to leave now. I saw him sit there, staring at his hands, as though not sure what to say.
Suddenly, I realized that I was very tired of being confused and worried. I didn't know who I loved, Quasimodo or Clopin. I was such a weak, ridiculous girl, in love with a gypsy for his charm and what he felt each day, his pain and struggle; a stupid, selfish girl in love with a deformed outsider that I loved for his hurt and soul, his pain and longing, both such powerful loves. For one moment, I wanted them both...but one would never love me, and this one...he might care for me, he would hold me and kiss me, maybe love me. I would never hold the poor misshapen boy in my beautiful church building in my heart's grasp, because we both had fallen pray to a trap of Paris--we were both in love with gypsies. I stared at mine, my chin trembling. He had began to look my way, and I was immediately overcome with romanticism as I stared into those eyes, that tan face, the short beard, and i lunged forward.
My arms wrapped around his neck, my eyes closing to the image of his surprised face. He nearly fell backward from surprise, but as my lips landed smoothly along his, his arms took hold of me, holding me in his strong grasp. A swirl of colors spun through my brain, purples and golds, blues and oranges, pinks and reds, and the music of a piper played in the background. I saw the wonders of the sky-high view of Paris, the shining beauty of the Court of Miracles, and the feelings of all the gypsy kisses of my secret past, all flooded before my spinning mind. His fingers pressed against my skull through my thick hair, the fingers of the next hand against my hip. His arms pressed against my back, and I ran my hands through his coarse hair, lifting his hat off his head and placing it onto my own. He kissed me with a force that he never had before; strangely; it seemed like he had never kissed anyone before, because each moment he acted more eager and surprised than the last. I forgot everything at that moment, melting there in his arms, wishing that I could stay here forever.
But all things must come to an end. We both pulled gently away, faces still mere inches from each other, eyes still half-closed. He looked at me with a pleased, yet tired expression.
His eyes darted to my head, and he laughed, covering my eyes with the hat. I smiled, putting it back onto his own head, then twirling my finger on the tip of his nose. He grinned at my playfulness, catching sight of the window as he did. He smile dropped, and he hurriedly climbed onto the sill. Pulling my chin forward, he quickly kissed me again, then jumped away, slipping into an alley back to the Court of Miracles.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Quasi, please open up. It's Ashley."
I had stood at the door knocking for several minutes, listening to the sounds of bustle within. I knew that he must have been hiding Esmeralda in this time, but I tried to place it out of my mind, rolling my eyes at the thought. I smiled. I was becoming more like Clopin everyday.
The door opened, and his face appeared. I sighed in relief. I had been away from him for so long, I had started to forget his sweet face and expressions. I smiled at him, wondering if he would let me inside.
"Oh, Ashley. Please, come in."
"I'm sorry I haven't visited in so long," I said, taking a step into the room, which was not as overturned as I had expected it to be.
"Long? It hasn't been that long ago now, has it?"
I bit my lip. He hadn't even noticed that I was gone. Biting my lip, I said,"Well, it has been a little over a week," trying to tell myself that I deserved it and shouldn't expect anymore. I thought about it, remembering how much Frollo had upped the stakes for gypsies wandering through Paris. I hadn't been able to see Clopin but from afar, to the sight of him being chased by more soldiers.
"Wow, I--I had no idea that it was so long ago...have you been well?"
I shrugged, smiling at him painfully. "As well as I could be without seeing you." He blushed, and I ran to give him a long overdue embrace. As he pulled away from our hug, I saw a slight tear roll down his cheek, as he had seemed to just remember his long childhood friend."What has kept you, my friend?"
I looked down, unable I supposed to admit what had "kept" me was a handsome gypsy's lips. "I just...thought that you weren't feeling like guests for a while there, and I got...tangled up with someon--I mean, something."
He guiltily bowed his head, sorry that he had sent me away before. "I was...tangled up with something as well."
I decided to change the subject. I walked to his work table, on which sat a miniature version of Paris. I looked at the small figures that he had carved, remembering the day he had showed me the doll of myself. I smiled, picking it up. He walked over to me, and I handed it to him. "Remember when you showed this to me?"
He blushed, grinning to himself."Yes and when I put it in your hand, you squeezed me by the neck and kissed my ear."
"What?! No way, I don't remember that!"
He laughed at me, and I laughed back, finding his character on the table...standing next to a newer doll. This one held a tambourine in its dark hands, and a small goat stood beside her. Her colorful clothes and dark hair held instant recognition in my mind, and I stopped my laughter, staring at it in disbelief. No doubt was in my mind now that she was hiding behind the curtain around his bed at that very moment. I tried, unsuccessfully, to bit back the tear that was now running down my face. Quasi stared up at me, concerned. I picked up the demon witch that he had carved, fingering her carefully painted raven hair, her tiny tambourine made with immeasurable detail. My face curved to fit the array of tears that now had begun to fall. I angrily wiped them away, glaring at him with my hurt eyes. Surprised, he held his hands up in defense, glancing at the doll in my hand, still confused. After all these years, how...how could he POSSIBLY be confused? How? All the years of my friendship, all of my years of running to him when I needed to be comforted, and I running to him when he needed the same.
I held the doll up in my hand, shaking. "W-who is this? As if I didn't know. How? How could you--how could you even think of hiding her here? W-what about Frollo? He. Would. KILL YOU, if he knew she was here!"
Shocked, his hand flew to his breast, grasping something through his shirt. I could see the outline of what looked like a crude caricature of a fish, but he soon revived himself, dropping the hidden object. He stepped forward, straightening up, defensive. "I-I don't know what your talking about. I have no idea where she is. I--"
"Oh, don't lie to me, Quasimodo. I know she's here. I've known since I heard that she had been trapped in the cathedral. I knew how strange you were acting a week ago, and I know what a terrible liar you are."
He stood there, speechless. Finding his voice, he stuttered, "Wh-what was I supposed to do, Ashley? S-she helped me, and now she needs help.She has nowhere to go--"
"Oh, please. She could easily go to the Court of Miracles. Frollo doesn't know where it is, and Clopin and his men have been worried sick about where she's hiding."
I heard a gasp from the curtained portion of the room, but I ignored it. Perhaps now the vixen would learn to think of her friends when she made unwise actions.
"Clopin?" Quasi looked at me, confused once more. "Who is--"
"King of the Gypsies. I have been in the Court of Miracles. He's worried to death about the girl, and he's working himself sick."
"Why were YOU in the Court of Miracles?" He sounded suspicious.
He had hurt me, and now, though I hate to admit it, I wanted to hurt him. Rolling my eyes, I said sarcastically,"I suppose you could say I was helping,"clean out," the King's personal chambers."
He backed away, repulsed. "Y-you mean, you--"
"Relax, Quasimodo, I'm still pure enough for the church, but just barely."
He sat on his stool, one hand on his thigh, the other holding up his forehead. He looked dizzy.
"Of course, the little witch behind that curtain is impure enough to be struck down by lightning in here."
He looked up at me, surprised. His expression turned to anger, and he stood up, limping toward me. I backed away, but still glared at him. He kept walking until I was up against a post. He stood on a piece of wood, rendering us eye to eye. He looked liked he had done so many years ago, when I had come to see him before lunchtime. No, it was different. Then his anger was not so much towards me as at the world. Now he stared at me like I was one of the imbeciles that laughed at him, as if my worth were no more than that of a bug. My expression softened, hurt.
"D-don't you EVER say that about her. That may be what you and all the others think, but it's not true. Sh-she's more than that. Impure? Ha! An angel cannot be impure. She's an angel, Ashley. She's my friend...and I thought you were, too."
I stared at him a moment, into those blue eyes that no longer seemed familiar. I pushed him away, swallowing the urge to sob. I moved toward the staircase, turning my back on him. I opened the door, and paused for a moment. Then I said something that I will regret for the rest of my life.

"She doesn't love you, Quasimodo. And she never will."

I shut the door.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I ran down the stairs, not caring who I saw. Frollo, the priests, the nuns, no one. I pushed past the people, holding back the tears.
She had taken him from me. My beautiful, precious Quasimodo. She had taken him, and he had gone with her willingly. I was certain of his fate now.
I hurried past the priest, barely stopping to bow my head in respect. I hurried so fast, not caring where I went. I nearly ran straight into the soldier standing in the middle of the room. I tried to mutter an apology, but I could not help looking up into his face. Quite handsome. Wavy, blond hair, with a bit of a beard on his face. I wanted to go, but something about him seemed familiar. Of course. The day in the square, when Frollo had instructed him to arrest the gypsies. Captain of the Guard.
"You."
"Er, excuse, have we met?"
"No, but my friends and I were nearly met with a jail cell, thanks to your commanding officer."
"W-what? But--but, your not--"
"A gypsy? No, I'm not, but I can tell you're looking for one."
He looked at me, surprised. He looked around, making sure that no one was listening. Lowering his voice, he said, "La Esmeralda? Do you know where she is?"
Angry as I was, I still felt it my duty to keep her whereabouts secret, at least for Clopin and Quasi's sake. "No...why?"
"Please, I'm a friend. My name is Phoebus, and she told me to meet her here. Rather, her goat did." I noticed the small animal standing beside him. "I even have the message she sent me. Look!'
He handed me a crumpled sheet of parchment, with spindly handwriting running across it. I looked into his eyes. I was taken aback by what was there. I had only seen that look a few times before, when I saw a reflection of myself when talking to Quasimodo, and when Quasi had told me about what an angel Esmeralda was. Oh, so the Captain of the Guard was smitten with little Ms. Vagabond too, hm? I sighed. Was there no one in this bloody town that did not feel for this wretch?
"Go to the bell tower, Captain Doofus--"
"Phoebus."
"Right, whatever. I doubt he'll let you in, but you may as well try."
I turned to go, walking away from this ass. "Hey, wait!" he called, but I ignored him. He could figure it out for himself. Meanwhile, I had to get out of here. I was close to breaking down, and each step made me feel all the more weary. Where would I go? Home? No, my mother would only pester me with questions about what was wrong, why was I crying. Charlotte's? Tempting, but it would do me no good to go there. I was left with one option.

The Court of Miracles.

Of course. I would tell Clopin that I loved him, that I could never be with the hideous monster upstairs. I tried to convince myself of this, that I could not truly be in love with Quasimodo, how could I possibly love him? He loved that gypsy witch, and if he had feelings for her, he couldn't possibly be my true love. But I knew it was a lie. His sweet expressions, his beautiful voice and pale blue eyes, his kindness and gentle nature...everything about him drew me towards him.
No. I must go to Clopin. I hurried out of the church, trying to remember how I had felt when he had brushed my hair out of my face, when his tender lips had met mine, while his hands held strongly to my waist. I loved him, I loved him, I had to have loved him...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I entered the Court quite easily. After the crowd of gypsies had run down to the sewers, I explained to Jacques, who just happened to be one of the guards, that I was there to see Clopin. I ran steadily to the wooden building, moving around to the back alley. I passed the governing room beside his own, hearing a great many arguing voices within. I stopped at the door tarp, listening for a sound. Oh, please, don't let him be with another girl.
Hearing noting, I gently pulled back the oiled tarp, peering inside. He stood there, arms crossed, facing the wall. His back was turned towards me, and he was speaking. No one else was in the room, and he didn't know that I was there.
"Oh, Esme...why?"
I drew in a quick breath.
"He's coming, Esme, he's coming...for all of us...why did you do it?"
His head bent low, I was startled to see a tear slide down the side of his face. I drew away, hand covering my mouth. I backed away, leaving him to himself. He loved her, too.

I ran away.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The buildings of Paris flew by, and my bare feet barely felt the rough cobblestone beneath them. I wouldn't have felt them if were running on broken glass; I was too preoccupied with the feeling of tears rolling down my cheeks. I blindly rushed past all of the people, ignoring their stares.
I ran for as long as my lungs would allow, and when I stopped to catch my breath, I looked up at Notre Dame, afraid of what I would see. For an instant, I thought that I had seen the silhouette of a girl, scaling down the side of the great church, but when I looked again, she was gone.
I started running again. The sun had completely sunk below the horizon, but I didn't care. If I never returned, what did it matter? What did I have to return to?
Unfortunately, exhaustion won out in the end. I sank to my knees, my legs burning after the blind dash. I held my head in my hands, sobbing. Staring up at the night sky, I saw it. The Wishing Star. The evil, glowing orb that had tricked me throughout my childhood, and now held it's bright gaze on me, mocking me with it's cruel indifference.
"Have YOU made a wish, you cruel, evil thing?! Was your wish for me to die of a broken heart, to lie in anguish, praying for the sting of death? If so, then you are just about to receive it!"
I heard a sound then, in the dark. Men, women, and some children. I looked around, searching for a mob. Behind me, in the narrow Parisian street, a group of soldiers marched forward, herding with them a sea of dark faces.

Gypsies.

I backed away, wiping the tears off my face. At the front of the line, Claude Frollo stood, personally pulling forward a beautiful tan-faced girl. She was struggling, but it was obvious in her eyes that she had lost hope. This was La Esmeralda.
Captain Phoebus was shortly behind them, but, instead of pulling a gypsy forward with the rest of his men, HE was being tugged along. He was resisting like Esmeralda, but his expression held the same fate as her's. A huge mass of gypsies was walking with Frollo's men, some trying to run, others' faces downcast, some even crying. When they past me towards the square, I saw that they were being led into large wooden crates, with wheels on the bottom. The soldiers pulled them the center of town, and I caught one last look at Clopin before he was shoved into a cage with the others. I saw no hope in his brown eyes.

When the crates had passed on to the square, I stood there, spellbound. I turned behind me to see two other soldiers behind me, pulling along a single man. His head was hung in silence and pain, and he made no attempt to help the men as they pulled him along. Grunting, they dragged him by his arms toward the great church.
I recognized the figure, as I would anywhere. Quasimodo. His hunched back stood out, and the men began to converse, as though he weren't even there.
"How we gonna keep him in there, eh? He breaks all the ropes."
"Frollo said to make sure he stays here. We'll use chains. Don't suppose he'll wriggle out a them!"
"No, you'll give us no trouble at all, will ya, 'unchback? 'Cause if ya do, I'm sure Frollo won't mind too much if we made CERTAIN that you won't, hehe!"
No reply.
Still grunting, the pulled open the doors leading him inside. Chain him up. Let him watch the girl he loved die.

Well, I wasn't about to watch the two men I loved die. I stared up at the old church, probably for the last time. The stone carvings which covered it seemed to whisper goodbye to me as I took a deep breath, then walked toward the second set of doors of Notre Dame Cathedral.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I stood at the top of Notre Dame, overlooking the burning city. I had watched as the men tied her to the wooden post, throwing firewood at her feet. Her eyes were vacant. Dead.

I had climbed to the roof of the opposite towering of where they had tied Quasimodo. It was a struggle to reach the top of the cathedral from a window, like the one that Quasi had showed me so long ago, but I had done it. The air was now still, as if the wind were holding its breath for what was about to begin.
Hundreds, it seemed, of gypsies waited in cages around the large bonfire that was to soon engulf them all. La Esmeralda was tied at the center, and I could faintly hear Frollo's conviction of her crimes. The cries of the citizens and the gypsies could be heard up to the sky, indignation plain in their tones and faces. It was useless. nothing could stop Frollo now. All hope was lost.
I took a long look at the archdeacon who had caused me so much trouble and grief. I truly wished that I could believe that this was all his fault, but I still felt it was mine.
I breathed in the beginning scent of ashes and sulfur, taking one last look at the sun-ridden sky that burned like embers. No pain would be felt. That was the good thing. The bad thing was the pain that would be felt all the way down.

Deep breath.

I closed my eyes, and jumped.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I could hear it, faintly at first; the sound of someone's cry. Someone shouting a fierce "No!", and the ringing of thousands of bells. Through the wind rushing past my ears, I could faintly hear Quasimodo's voice.
For an instant, I believed that he had seen me, and that he was coming to rescue me at last, save me from this cruel world. But then I looked, and I couldn't see him anywhere near me. I turned to my left, and I could see, just barely, that a figure was swooping down, far below, to what seemed to be a rescue of HER, not me. I felt sad at this, but the wind blew to fast for me to cry.
I fell on.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I promised myself that I would not look down. I had told myself that it would do no good, to see the cause of my demise coming. But Just barely, my eyes had flickered open, had looked down out of morbid temptation, and I had seen the ever advancing cobblestone.
I screamed.
I screamed my lungs raw, even though I knew it would not help. I shut my eyes, at last wiling away the urge to cry out. I braced for the impact, and the ground seemed to call to me, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming........

I hit hard.

The wind in my lungs left me, and In saw black. Faintly, in the back of what I assumed was my head, I began to hear a voice. Rustic and startled, it seemed familiar to me. I moved with a heavy accent, and for a moment I wondered to myself, do angels have dialects?

"Little Priestess? Is that you? W-where did you come from? How did you fall? Little Priestess? Little Priestess, answer me!"
Little Priestess. Only one person would call me that. I opened my eyes, thinking that Clopin had burned quickly, before I had hit the ground, but when I saw that the sky was still as burning red as I had left it, I realized that I had not fallen to my death. Rather, I had fallen into Clopin's conveniently outstretched arms.
"C-Clopin? is that you?"
"Oh, thank the stars, mo cherie. You nearly killed when you did not answer. What..happened? Where did you fall? Why--"
He looked up, trying to pinpoint my falling point. When he saw that the only place within dropping distance, he looked back at me, a sickening stroke of realization on his face.
"Y-you? How? Why?"
His expression turned to anger, and He held me tighter, shaking me in his arms. "Jumped. Of course. You jumped. Why? Why would try--oh, do you have any idea what you do to me with these things? When you were crying that night, I felt as though a hole had been cut through my heart, and now you say that you tried to kill yourself? How did you think I would feel when I saw your crumpled body laying on the streets of Paris? How did you think I would feel when I tried to call out your name, to hold you in my arms again, when you did not answer to Little Priestess, when your lips felt cold against my own?" He pushed me to his chest, sighing as he held me in his arms.
Confused, I pushed against him, looking him in the eye. "How did you think I would feel when I saw you pining after Esmeralda, when I saw the look in your eyes when she brought that soldier home with her?" Anger leaked into my voice, tough I wished I could push it away.
Confusion now seeped into his tone. "Esme? W-what? You think I--oh, ugh, Ashley, you...she is like my sister, Ashley, I raised her."
"What?"
"I was worried about her because Frollo was trying to find her--to find all of us."
He frowned. "You mean to tell me that you jumped because of jealousy? Because you thought that I loved her?"
I blushed. "N-no, that's not why I jumped." Or was it? "I-I jumped because...because Frollo was going to kill all of you, and because--even if you escaped, I did think that you--and Quasimodo..."
I willed away the tears. Not now, nor ever again would I shed a tear over this business. Clopin looked at me, concerned, but I cast my head downward, shamed.
"I-I love you, Clopin," I said slowly," But, I love him, too."
He had placed me on my feet at this point, and I pulled myself away from his embrace, turning away. I was unwilling to look him in the eye, unable to face what I felt sure would be hatred in his gaze. I was surprised when I felt his arms slid around my waist from behind, and when he placed his cheek against my temple, I blinked, startled.
"I know."
"How?"
"That night...when you were sleeping, you whispered...'I love you, Quasi.' Then you whispered, 'I love you, Clopin.'"
I turned to face him, still in his arms. So I did talk in my sleep. My mother had always told me I did, but I had never believed her. We stared at each other long and hard. I wished that I could look into those brown eyes and whisper that I loved him, that he was the only one that I could possibly care about, but I couldn't. I knew in my heart that I loved Quasimodo, and as much as I wanted to tell Clopin that I would forget all about him, I knew I couldn't.]
"You love him," he concluded, reading my thoughts. I sighed.
"I do."
"You realize, that I could give you everything-everything you ever wanted. You would be the Queen of the Gypsies. I would love you, hold you, kiss you...anything," he whispered these thoughts to me, almost pleading. How UnClopin-like. He was not one to seem vulnerable.
"I will always love you, Clopin, but he..."
I was cut off, rather abruptly, by the force of his lips against mine. My hands reflexively raised to move through his soft hair, and I smelled that familiar smell of sweat and musk, perhaps for the last time. I felt like I would cry when our lips slowly opened for what seemed like the thousandth unholy time, but I remained surprisingly calm. His hands moved over the back of my neck, and I felt the urgency in his mood, as though he were trying to tell me something, no, convince me of something. I didn't care; all I cared about at that moment was that I could hold him, kiss him just one more time, to savor all the wonderful memories of him...
We pulled away gently, and we both knew that this was the last time that we could be together. For one instant, he looked back at me with that same pleading look in his eyes, and then it was gone, as if his personality had suddenly jumped back under his skin. He calmly held me in his gaze, smiling at me with that crooked grin of his, cocking his eyebrow in that familiar fashion.

"You! Gypsy, where did you come from?!"

We turned sharply to face Claude Frollo and his horde of soldiers. I looked behind us, trying to answer that question myself, when I saw a open cage door with a blackened-eyed soldier laying beside it. Facing Frollo again, I reeled in horror at his distraught appearance. His face was more haggard than usual, his gnarled old finger pointed out accusingly. His hair stuck out in tuffs from under his pointed hat, and his yellowed teeth were bared in anger. About five or six men stood behind him, and we were obviously outnumbered.
Clopin stiffened up, held on to me more tightly, opening his mouth as if to say something that would only anger him more. No, I would not cause him to get into trouble. Not this time.

"What are YOU doing here, you waste of flesh and bones?"

Frollo stared at me, shocked. I spoke with greater confidence than I felt. I pulled myself away from a horror-stricken Clopin, casting him a "don't worry, save yourself" glance. He was the one that needed to leave, not me.
I marched up to the archdeacon, the weight of my malice in each footstep. "You miserable, horrid, disgusting old man, you!" I screamed into his face. "It is YOUR fault! All of this! You treated him like a dog! You tried to kill him! You beat him and wrapped him in chains, and you didn't care! I hate you!" I spit into his calm face, wishing that I could hold a knife to his throat as well, as I had done to the gypsy in the Court of Miracles. His expression remained as calm and disgusted as before.
His men encircled me quickly, and Clopin, shocked and worried , hurried away after throwing me another frightened glance.
They grabbed me by my arms, staring up at their master like dogs waiting to be fed. With heartless eyes boring into my skull, he said, "Bring her to the Palace of Justice. Lock her in the dungeon, and make sure she stays there."
They pulled me roughly away, my feet dragging along the cobblestone. My eyes burned with hatred as I watched him coolly wipe away the wetness on his cheek, then preceded to the hangman's stage.
I kept my head down as the brutish guards carried me away, hoping that they would obey his orders and only place me into the dungeon, not take my punishment into their own hands. I cringed at the thought, and tried to remember that this was for my friend, that I had saved him, at least I hoped so. Clopin was street smart; he knew every back alley and crevice there was in Paris. The bright red sky hung over us as the Palace of Justice drew closer.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The dungeon was dank and filthy, much different from the clean and bright atmosphere above. Mildew clung to the walls, and a rat scurried past our feet. Grumbling, the guards reached a wooden door with a set of bars at the bottom for food. Unlocking it, the brusquely tossed me inside, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Now you've prob'ly made us miss the witch's burnin', wench! Normally we'd set to "punishing" you, but we don't think that Frollo'll mind if we hurry on back. Lucky for you, we'll at least get to see the rest o' them gypsies burn, hehe!"
With that, he shut they shut the door, enclosing me in the darkness. I held my breath, listening for a sound, a breath, anything to signal that I was not alone. When I heard nothing but a rat's quick skitter, I relieved my tired lungs. No light penetrated trough the cold prison except for the small beams that came through the bars along the edge of the door. I hugged my legs, trying to keep warm. The mold etched itself along the walls of my lungs, making it hard to breath. I laid m forehead against my knees, crying softly to myself. I cursed myself inwardly, knowing it was silly and childish. I had what I wanted, didn't I? I wouldn't live to see my friends die; I would most likely die here, in this dank, smelly, awful place, never seeing the light of day again, fed crusts of bread and dirty water, abused by Frollo's men for the rest of my life.
Would he ever know? Would he ever know that I had loved him? Or would he finally have the perfect girl, the tan-skinned beauty who danced in the street for coins? Or would the arrogant Captain of the Guard have her? Would Frollo win, and all the gypsies die? Or would Clopin find some way to save them? Would Esmeralda die? Of course she would, her death was certain, as she had been tied to a post surrounded by flames when I had left her. But...wait. Hadn't it been Quasimodo that was swinging by on a rope, when I had been falling before? When I had thought that he was coming to save me? Of course, he would save her, and he would be safe! I smiled, brightening for a moment, then darkening again. No, Frollo was still in the picture. He wouldn't stop until he had stopped every last gypsy in the place. I buried my face again, trying to wipe away the tears with a dirt covered hand. My eyes stung with fresh tears, and I finally gave up and cried without trying to stop.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Is anyone here?"
Footsteps sounded in the quiet hallway. I started at the soft voice, a sweet sound that I knew well, that had broken the silence of the prison. For a moment, I didn't believe my ears. Surely, it couldn't be him; was he truly there, in the darkest times, so close in my grasp?
"Quasimodo?"
"Ashley?! I-is that you?"
I moved quickly to the bars, grabbing them as I pulled my face through to see him more easily.
"What are you doing here? H-how did you--"
"What are YOU doing here? I-I thought they chained you up in Notre Dame!"
"T-they did--I broke the chains," he said, squatting down to look in the bars at the bottom of my cell door. He clutched my chilled hands in his, and from the light of the torch he carried I could just make out his sweet face. "What are you doing here?" He repeated, more softly this time.
"Frollo's guards brought me here after I--after I spit in his face."
He opened his one good eye wide. He sighed. "You seemed to have changed so much in this last week," he said, reaching to take my face in his hand, then pulling back.
Guilt bit into my stomach. "Quasi, I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to say those awful words, I was, I was just..."
"...Just?"
Deep breath.
"...jealous."
"What?"
"I love you, Quasimodo."
He gasped. There, I said it. I sighed in relief. I looked up in his eyes. Those big, blue, wondering eyes...
"W-what? Did you just say--"
"I love you, Quasi. You are the most wonderful person in this world, and I-I'm so sorry."
He stared at me for a long time, and I bowed my head, thinking that he must have been trying to think of a way to tell me that Esmeralda was the only one he could ever love. And why shouldn't she be? With her beauty and gypsy charm...I knew from personal experience just how captivating a gypsy could be.
I felt his warm fingers gently lift my chin up. He had a smirk on his face, and the dim light shone in his eyes. "Sorry? Sorry for what? I'm the one who should be sorry."
I started to protest, but he put his finger to my lips, leaning closer. His voice barely a whisper, he said, "Sorry for never realizing what was in front of me the whole time."
Cautiously, he pushed his lips against mine, a little nervous of his actions. My eyes opened wide at his touch. This was unlike any kiss I had shared with Clopin, and I suddenly hoped that I didn't have any recognizable traces left of the gypsy king. This was sweeter, more gentle, and I felt more at home here, like this was where I belonged, resting on Quasimodo's lips in a dungeon beneath Paris. So this was what true love felt like. Nothing felt more divine or perfect than this.
When he pulled away, all of his ugliness seemed to slip away, not that I had seen it there in 14 years. He was still my savior, my rescuer, my...love. He was Quasimodo, my love.
"I love you"
Those three words melted me, and I reached out to him to keep from fainting. I looked back at him, and sighed.
"You need to go back to them. They need your help."
"But I--I can't leave you here, you'll--"
"I'll be fine, but you need to go. Did you come here to find more gypsies?"
He nodded.
"Well, none are here. I'm the only prisoner. You must go back. I love you, but some of my friends are out there, too. They need your help. If something happens to Clopin, I'll lose one of my dearest friends."
He looked down akwardly.
"But if something happens to you, I'll lose my life."
He looked up, surprised at my harsh words. I sighed.
"Don't worry about me; I'm not going anywhere." I smiled
He smiled back, and stood up to leave, squeezing my hand one last time. "And Quasi--"
"Yes?"
"Come back for me."
He looked back, his face serious. "Nothing could stop me."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the morning he came back, and kissed me again. He took me home with him, and we asked the archdeacon when would be the best time for us to wed. My mother was outraged that I had kept this from her for so long, but she soon got over it. I worried about Clopin for a while, but lately, Charlotte has been awfully quiet, and I believe that I saw a pair of multicolored tights slip into her window last night.
Quasi and I are now married, and I am expecting to bring a new little bellringer into the world very soon. Quasi is ecstatic. We have decided to name the baby Marie if it is a girl, after Quasi's favorite bell, or Charles, if it is a boy, after Charlotte.
Everyday Quasimodo is busy carving new toys for the baby, and his face lights up when I come into the room. I love him. And he loves me.
Quasimodo, my love.