| �Second Chances�
By Christy Chapter 16 The weeks crept by, with Quasimodo rarely leaving Minerva�s side. Her body grew stronger, but her depression didn�t waver. It always seemed to take a massive amount of effort just to get her to speak, and even when she did speak, she would only utter a few words at a time. The bell-ringer couldn�t even convince her to learn how to walk again. It was as if she had given up on living, determined to forget about any sort of life outside the bell tower. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night and heard her singing again, always in German, always beyond his understanding, but he could detect the word Frederich in the lyrics, which always tore at his heart. Then he would feel ashamed to be envious of a dead man, but he couldn�t deny that the envy existed. It was almost worse than being envious of Phoebus. At least he knew Phoebus, at least he and Phoebus could be friends. He could never know Frederich, never find out if Frederich would find him hideous, if Frederich would taunt him as so many others did. Esmeralda and Phoebus moved into the house Minerva had bought for them. Phoebus came to Notre Dame nearly every day to see his sister, but Quasimodo rarely saw Esmeralda, perhaps because the gypsy dancer didn�t know how to disclose to Minerva that she knew her and Frederich before. Or maybe she just didn�t want to face that her sister-in-law was an adulteress and a murderer. Murderer. Quasimodo still couldn�t pair that word with Minerva. He could accept that she committed adultery against the husband she did not love � especially since she already loved someone else before she married. A great sin, yes, but an understandable one, even though understanding it split his heart. But murder? How could his Minerva ever be capable of that? His Minerva. As if he owned her. As if she were nothing more than his models or his tools. Just an object. Quasimodo couldn�t believe how shallow his thoughts sometimes got, yet at the same time he couldn�t deny them. Finally Minerva grew strong enough to walk again. Even when she tried not to heal, she couldn�t stop her body from fixing itself. As soon as he found out about that, Phoebus once more begged Quasimodo to help her escape the cathedral. �It will be easy,� he said. �Just do what you did with Esmeralda.� �What I did with Esmeralda almost got us both killed,� Quasimodo argued. �Do you really want me to risk killing your sister?� �I don�t want her imprisoned here,� Phoebus said simply. �And you can�t be patient?� said Quasimodo. �She�s certainly been patient enough. In a little while the soldiers will probably forget about her.� Phoebus gave an exasperated sigh. �I might agree with you except for the fact that she�s related to me.� He stared at the bell-ringer. �You, Esmeralda, and I were all part of Frollo�s death � we can�t deny it. Now his brother is looking for any excuse he can use to arrest us. Minerva�s connection to us might be the very excuse he needs.� �All the more reason to keep Minerva here,� Quasimodo said firmly. �If she goes out there, she�ll be caught.� The former captain ground his teeth in frustration. �Quasi, do you know who you sound like?� �No, who do I sound like?� �You sound like Frollo.� Quasimodo suddenly found himself struggling to breathe. His eyes widened to their physical limit as he stared blankly at Phoebus. �H-h-how . . . how . . . how could you say that???� �It�s true,� Phoebus insisted. �You want to keep Minerva here without ever letting her leave, just like what Frollo did to you. He claimed he wanted to protect you from the outside world as well.� The bell-ringer couldn�t move, couldn�t think, as if the world had decided that time was an unnecessary luxury for him but still needed to move for everyone else. �Please,� Phoebus continued. �Esmeralda and I will be there to meet you at the bottom. Then we�ll take her to our house and the gypsies can take her back to Germany. She�ll be safe there.� Back to Germany. Back to where Quasimodo might never see her again. The bell-ringer suddenly felt ill, as if Minerva returning to Germany would erase all meaning from his life. He knew it was selfish to think like that, yet he couldn�t deny what he was feeling. Suddenly and completely unexpectedly, his world had become centered on Minerva. Now Phoebus was looking Quasimodo directly in the eye, a desperate, pleading look on his face. �Please,� he repeated. �Think about her.� About her. Not about him. �All right,� he said in a small voice. �I�ll do it.� - - - - - - Tonight seemed amazingly similar to the night Quasimodo helped Esmeralda escape � the stars were clustered in the sky without any clouds to be seen. There was also a chill in the air despite the fact that it was summer. Yes, it was very much like that night . . . the night that had led to the burning of Paris. Quasimodo gulped at the thought of all the innocent people who suffered because of him. Why couldn�t he have been more patient? Why didn�t he wait until Frollo�s anger had subsided to help Esmeralda escape? He couldn�t remember. Minerva was standing at the balcony, leaning over the rail, reminding Quasimodo of the night he found her leaning on the bridge, looking so solemn, so sad, so unlike herself. Back then, he didn�t understand why she was like that. He wished he still didn�t understand why. He cleared his throat as he approached her. �Minerva?� he whispered. �We�re ready to go.� �What if I don�t want to do this?� Minerva said in a shuddering voice, not looking at him. �What do you mean?� Minerva swallowed as if something were stuck in her throat. �I�m guilty, aren�t I? I have no business out there. A guilty person should either be here or in the dungeon.� She turned around, showing Quasimodo her tear-stained face. �My sister-in-law was innocent. I�m not.� Quasimodo reached over and gently patted her shoulder. �Minerva . . . do it for Phoebus, then. He wants you to be free and safe. I know you care about him enough to respect his wishes.� And do you respect my wishes as well? he wanted to ask, but those words couldn�t find their way out. Minerva sighed, glancing downward. �Yes . . . I do, but . . .� �Do it for Frederich too.� Mentioning her former lover�s name, made Quasimodo feel dizzy, but he pressed onward. �He sacrificed himself for you � do you want him to have died for nothing?� Minerva inhaled deeply, trying to hold in her tears. �All right, let�s go.� - - - - - - - Carrying someone down the walls of Notre Dame was easier the second time. It certainly helped that Minerva didn�t have an animal in her own arms like Esmeralda had. She was unusually quiet during the entire descent, not even gasping during the moments when it seemed like they might fall, almost as if she didn�t care whether she lived or died. When they reached the ground, Phoebus and Esmeralda were there as they said they would be . . . but so were a groups of soldiers emerging from the darkness behind the couple. �Look out!� Quasimodo shouted, but his warning came too late. The soldiers surrounded the group on all sides. Esmeralda and Phoebus were immediately kicking, punching, and biting, but the soldiers didn�t make any moves towards them; they merely shoved the couple aside. Instead, they approached Minerva, grabbing her by the wrists. �You�re under arrest,� said the tallest soldier, chaining her wrists. �So, so predictable,� said another soldier. �She couldn�t stand living in the church, could she?� �You can�t do this,� Phoebus growled. The tall soldier smirked. �Actually we can. This little lady committed a little crime ten years ago that she hasn�t yet paid for. Now that�s not fair, is it?� He leaned in until his spittle-covered lips were nearly touching Phoebus�s face. �And if I recall correctly, you�re not Captain of the Guard anymore, are you? So you have no authority over us, do you?� He pulled on Minerva�s chains and signaled to his comrades. �Come on, men. We have what we�re looking for.� As the soldiers led Minerva away, she glanced back at Quasimodo, her eyes misted, her face full of regret and despair. Quasimodo suddenly felt all energy drained out of him, all his strength faded away as he sank to his knees, clutching his stomach, unwilling to look at anything other than the cobbled streets. �Minerva . . .� he whispered. Back to Fanfic Back to Index |