The wooden door groaned from its ancient hinges as the Minister entered the old cell, finding Quasimodo still sleeping soundly upon the wooden pallet. Frollo inched closer, noticing the boy was still sweating profusely.

Suddenly Quasimodo let out a hollow cough, indicating that he still had some way to go before he fully recovered. Frollo raked his fingers over his steely hair in agitation. Good God, why now? he thought frustratedly.

He had to send a message to his Captain that he would be absent from court to oversee his ward's further condition. It irked him to think he would lose another day of productivity, but his annoyance waned almost instantaneously when he looked at Quasimodo, still sapped from his illness.

He couldn't help but feel sympathy for the boy as he dabbed his forehead with a wet cloth and woke him to feed him regularly.

As he sat in the corner, keeping watch over the boy, Frollo felt his mind become distracted as it repeatedly circled back to the previous night. Crossing his arms over his chest, he remembered how convoluted and quickly the situation had escalated—as if years of his brother's constant mayhem had not prepared him for something of this magnitude.

Confusion etched on everyone's face wondering what decision Jehan might make. In one night, he had managed to lose any shred of respect that Claude might still harbor for him…Here he sat, tending to his own accidental charge, and yet Jehan allowed himself to relinquish his own paternal responsibilities.

"Master?" a small voice weakly whispered out. Straightening up, Frollo looked over to see his ward stir from his ill slumber. The boy was still very pale and sad to look upon, his crooked eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Hello my boy" Frollo evenly greeted, folding his hands in his lap. "I see that you are somewhat better than yesterday, a very good sign indeed."

Quasimodo nodded, pulling his covers over his small frame tighter as he began to doze off. Suddenly he snapped himself awake, remembering his guardian was still there and how it would be deemed impolite to do so. Sleepily, the boy asked "How's Jehan, Master? Is he in trouble?"

"Hardly," Frollo bitterly answered, leaning back in his seat. "For all the madness he creates, he always manages to walk away scot-free. And, of course, I am always the one to carry the weight of his sins."

"What…what happened?" the boy sounded exhausted, his red hair falling over his face lankily.

"Never you mind," Frollo softly answered, seeing that he obviously needed his rest. "Just a bit of…family disputes, shall we say. But enough of that; you must rest, Quasimodo."

The boy nodded his head and tiredly rubbed at his good eye. "Yes, sir." Frollo knew he should have stayed longer, but he knew that he still needed to get some work done today. He would return the next day to check in on the hunchback. He bid the boy farewell and left.

The Minister exited the stairwell with the same dejected frown as when he first entered. He was loathe to return to the Palace of Justice so soon after the last day and a half of headaches he was subjected to. Frollo decided that a few silent minutes to himself in the church's pews might ease his mind some.

Dutifully kneeling and crossing himself, Frollo clasped his hands in prayer as he mechanically went through his thanks to God. He was ever grateful that in the middle of the day, the church was empty and void of others who might disturb him. Then resting his elbows against the wooden pew, the judge circled his temples with his fingers as he could feel yet another headache taking effect.

His muddled mind had seldom given him any reprieve as he thought back to his and Jehan's interaction last night. He detested the nagging guilt that churned at his insides as he pictured those children's confused and disappointed faces—remnants of Jehan's recklessness. He should consider himself so fortunate, he thought grimly as he rested his head against his now folded arms. We just narrowly avoided an unwanted scandal and legal madness, no thanks to that boy, as always.

It was foolish to think that Jehan would keep his word of never seeking his brother's help again, but at least he had the decency to offer some pathetic groveling when asking Claude. But even that was not enough to make the Minister forgive him so easily.

No matter what, he cynically thought. He will always be nothing but a boy…

"Minister," a familiar voice softly greeted, one that he most definitely did not want to hear now of all times.

Biting back a swipe of irritation, Frollo straightened up to face the Archdeacon approaching him. "Father," the judge flatly addressed, offering a small nod.

"I'm happy to see you are so dutiful in keeping watch over Quasimodo during this awful ailment of his." Augustin beamed a prideful smile, almost as if in amazement of the Minister's supposed compassion.

Barely hiding the iciness in his voice, Frollo replied, "It's not as though I can allow him to succumb to his sickness. What good is a penance if the subject of such perishes under one's watch? I have already failed in rearing my brother—I do not need the death of the hunchback as grounds for further punishment."

Augustin scrutinized the man, noticing the exhausted and uncharacteristic slump of his usually straight shoulders. "Claude, is there something you wish to discuss?"

Tiredly Frollo rubbed at his eyes as he felt as if the weight of the world crushed him, like an insect under a workman's boot. "Of course not. It is simply another matter concerning Jehan—the vain attempts to make him grow up."

"Ah, I can only imagine what antics he has found himself in now." Augustin considered the poor boy upstairs, and how he would not want that innocent soul to be subject to his master's ever escalating fury. Taking note of the darkness surrounding said man, the Archdeacon carefully offered, "This is a safe space; if you wish to speak about what it is that plagues you, I will listen."

Any other day Frollo would have easily brushed off the Archdeacon's proposal to lend an ear. Today, however, he was so twisted in anger that he allowed himself to be less surly towards his former mentor. Hesitantly, Frollo recounted the story of yesterday's debacle regarding his brother, Augustin listening patiently and never interjecting.

"She was much too prideful to accept the money we had offered her," Frollo weaved, his fingers continuing to curl. "She agreed to take her children and never seek out our family again. But the minute she left, Jehan finally understood what he had just forced me to do. Where he is now, I have no idea, but I have no doubt that he's resumed his carousing and making mischief wherever he can."

At last the Archdeacon finally spoke, his voice gentle. "When you say that Jehan finally understood, do you mean he might have felt something over this woman? Pity, perhaps?"

"Guilt is a more accurate summation. Immediately after she left, he had the gall to question what he had just done."

The Archdeacon's eyes seemed to brighten. "It sounds as though he is maturing."

"Were you not listening?" Frollo asked indignantly, trying to keep from raising his voice. "He had one moment to prove himself a man and take charge for his own dilemma, only to coerce me into taking it into my own hands. How on earth is that "maturing"?"

"Late as it may be, Jehan is finally taking into account how his actions affect others. If he seemed to show remorse, it may show that he sees their impact on you as well."

"So you believe I should be grateful that he pulled me into his world of idiocy yet again?" Frollo tested.

"Think about it," Augustin reasoned, looking away to the stained-glass windows above them. "You of all people know how the influence of guilt can sway a person—is your brother not past due in learning such a lesson? And if history has taught us anything, it is that remorse has the power to bring us back to the light, especially after being lost in the darkness for so long. Or have you forgotten the parable of the Prodigal Son already?"

Irritability evident, Frollo answered, "No, I have not."

"I promise you, Jehan will find his way, especially after facing an obstacle like this."

"At least I was able to spare those children that pathetic excuse for a father," Frollo clipped, absently toying with the rings on his fingers. "Jehan can hardly care for himself; he'd be more than inept in caring for those poor children."

"You might be underestimating your brother." Father Augustin knew that in a discussion with the Minister, it was wise to keep his tone as neutral as possible as to avoid any more unwanted conflict.

"I don't think that's possible," Frollo pointed, a humorless scowl contorting his expression. "With every idiotic thing he does, he manages to outdo himself at every turn, as well as lose any respect I have left for him. Even calling him an imbecile is too great a compliment."

"Claude, have you ever considered what might happen should you leave your brother to fend for himself?"

"He would end up dead before dawn." Despite the caustic tone, it still pained the Minister to even think of the horrors that Jehan could have suffered without the help of his brother.

"Perhaps," Augustin agreed. "Or perhaps he might have the potential to do the right thing if it the only solution. And it might just be for the better."

Frollo's silence urged the man to continue his theory. "Remember what the Good Book tells us about children: those who love their children love them enough to give them the proper discipline."

"Then by that verse I suppose the Lord might believe I hate my brother for sparing the rod. I swear, if I hadn't promised our mother that I would do everything to put him on the straight and narrow, I would have left him to suffer at the hands of the world ages ago." To remember that solemn oath he had given his mother when Jehan was born made him momentarily wistful—it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Tapping his long fingers against the edge of the pew, a dismayed grimace adorned Frollo's gaunt face. He certainly felt no comfort when his own gaze traveled up to the colorful saints adorned above him.

"Perish the thought," the Archdeacon reassured the crestfallen judge. "Claude, I know you love your brother, but you mustn't lose hope in him. I know your constant intervening comes from a good place, but it might be time to let him learn from his mistakes. And you should also keep in mind that you have your own child to look after. The Lord knows that Quasimodo only wants your guidance and love."

Frollo's dark lips couldn't help twisting in disgust at the reminder of extending even a smidgen of affection to the poor hunchback. Snidely, he remarked, "My compassion only runs so deep."

Tiredly, the Archdeacon sighed, not at all surprised by the answer he received. Trying to mask his own disappointment, he added, "I truly believe you might be happier if you tried to be more than the boy's guardian, and rather his father."

Frollo could only shift his eyes away, choosing to hide behind his tightly folded hands. The perpetual battle between him and whatever sanity he had left was continuing to weigh him down like a boulder.

Frollo continued. "A father will continue to fail and is bound to his children; a guardian has the ability to keep his ward at a reasonable distance. Personally, I prefer the second notion."

There was suddenly something that did not sit well with the Archdeacon as he continued to study the tense expression over the judge's face. "Pardon me for asking this, but are you referring to Jehan's inability to be a father…or is it possible that you yourself carry doubt in your own facilities?"

The judge could feel his blood boil and readied himself for a heated verbal defense. He would not take such a slight by a man of God in His own house. "Of course not!" he hissed, rising up from the pew. "I'm certain that I have proven that I am more than capable in maintaining the city, as well as Quasimodo's well-being. The fact of the matter is that Jehan possesses a level of childishness so exceedingly high that he knows that he cannot survive without me aiding him."

"Do you truly believe that he is hopeless?" Augustin countered, his voice never straying from its even volume. "Would Jehan have been such a terrible father if he had been forced to take charge of his children?"
"Undoubtedly. He would have fled at the first trial of parenthood and never looked back. He probably would have led that family straight to ruin, unable to discipline them or lead them on the right path."

"And if this exact situation were to arise again, what would you rather him do?"

Frollo shook his head. Just imagining more bastard children begotten by Jehan looking for him was enough to tighten his chest. Chillingly, he answered, "I would rather he suffer for what he's done. And I have sworn that this was the very last time that I would lend him my assistance."

Even Father Augustin was astounded that the Minister would wish something so malicious on his once beloved brother.

Frollo coldly added, "You said it yourself: not sparing the rod is the only way to ensure proper behavior. I refused to teach him right from wrong as a child, and now he seems to be repaying me in kind. A person understands the ways of the world when they have endured its wrath, and Jehan has surely never had to endure anything that I myself have."

Steepling his hands together, the Archdeacon noted, "Careful, Claude. With words as hateful as those your tone sounds very close to someone else who taught you the very same lesson."

Frollo instantly averted his eyes to the cold tiled floor, clenching the pew behind him. "My father might have been strict, but I would never have thrust my woes unto him to correct. He made it painfully clear that if I was foolish enough to create trouble for myself, then I would surely pay the price." Anxiety rose as he saw in his mind the very man he reluctantly spoke of.

"But one must wonder," the judge mused heavily, a new look of defeat making its way to his face. Still refusing to look up to the Archdeacon, Frollo said thoughtfully, "At what point does a man become his father?"

Augustin's brows rose in astonishment. "Do you fear that you have become him?" he inquired delicately.

Frollo nearly wanted to laugh, every thought in his mind arguing with each other. "On the contrary—I know that I am nothing like him. If I could emulate just a fraction of control over Jehan as my father held over me, all of this nonsense he has put me through would be nonexistent."

"I admit, your father was stern, to say the least," Augustin mulled as he remembered that daunting man—the Minister of Justice who showed no mercy to wrongdoers, or even his own son. "But he was also a man in need of more empathy in his heart."

"Or perhaps he had the correct mentality," Frollo replied, now considering every hardship that that man had forced him to endure. He had spent his life fearing and resenting his father, but now he found himself questioning if the man was actually in the right. He did help in making you the man you are today, his mind pointed.

The judge continued. "One cannot show weakness in front of their children, lest they become a fool to bend to their spawn's will. And I will not be seen as such by Jehan any longer—as of today, he will have to rely on himself and his wits should he find himself in trouble."

"Claude, I am not implying that you cut your ties with him—only to consider what you have at stake before you entangle yourself in yet another mess, and possibly one that you will not be able to release yourself from."

"I know, I know. It just pains me to even think that it has taken so many years for me to finally force him to take responsibility." Frollo thought back on the countless dilemmas that Jehan managed to force his brother to handle. And now his charge lay above them, sickly and unsightly.

"Have I…" The Minister shamefully looked back up at the Archdeacon, eyes wan. "Have I failed in caring for the two?" His shoulders again slouched in defeat.

In that moment Father Augustin thought that the judge looked just as he did as a boy, seeking guidance in his otherwise grim world. "'Failed', no," he coolly answered. "Though you seem confused on how to go about it. You have doubts like all men at one point or another, but you must not let that deter you from trying."

Frollo rubbed the back of his neck as his headache began pounding heavily, tiring him even more. "Jehan was correct," he lowly remarked, not even meeting the priest's gaze. "There are some people in this world who are not meant to parent…And I believe that I am one of those select. Perhaps it is time to reconsider my priorities."

Augustin shot a look of confusion at the judge's cryptic words. "And what do you mean by that?"

Frollo finally straightened, chaperon in hand. He hollowly met the light brown eyes of the Archdeacon and answered, "I think it would be in the best interests of all of us if I part ways with Quasimodo."

Unsurprisingly, Augustin's eyes grew wide with disbelief. He lowered his voice and shakenly replied, "You must be joking—have you forgotten your penance?"

"I will find another way to redeem my soul since you hold that it is never too late to do so. After everything that's ensued because of the boy's mother, I believe that nine years' worth of guardianship is more than enough as payment."

"Precisely—only nine years and he is still a child who needs you. Your penance is not yet complete!"

Irked, Frollo quickly bit back, "And what if I write to the King and implore that he provide the proper funds to make repairs to the church? Would God not view that as an appropriate offering?"

"The Lord does not bargain and you know that." The Archdeacon fought to prevent becoming livid at the Minister's selfishness, and he especially didn't want to see young Quasimodo orphaned once again by the same man.

Frollo spitefully thought back to seeing his own father dropping pennies into Notre Dame's collection box every Sunday. The man had reminded his son that any sin could be erased at the right price.

"Do not be so quick to make such a rash decision," Augustin pleaded. "Do not give up on the boy—he needs you!"

"As does Paris," Frollo's tone remained unchanged. "Maybe the Lord sees that the time has come for me to separate myself from the boy and devote myself entirely to the city. He has already shown the way to remove myself from Jehan's madness."

"If you abandon Quasimodo now, you can consider your atonement incomplete."

"It can't be done!" Frollo suddenly spat, his gray eyes frantic as he leaned exhaustedly against the wooden pew beside him, chest heaving. Suddenly his taut frame began to shake. "I am torn between my obligation to the boy, keeping the city in check, and preventing Jehan from killing himself. God knows teaching my brother has all been in vain—who is to say that I won't fail in my other endeavors?" Anxiously, the judge gripped at his hair as he attempted to steady himself.

It was truly unsettling to see a man so reserved crumble, especially in a place so simultaneously peaceful and intimidating. Frollo clutched at his chest as he took in sharp breaths, distress coloring his face deathly pale.

Afraid the judge might fly into a fit of rage, Augustin spoke up. "What you need is patience, and God will grant you the strength to overcome these obstacles."

"Patience is of little help at this point," Frollo snapped. "I don't even care for the boy—the most logical solution would be for the two of us to part ways." He felt as though the Archdeacon's eyes burned into him with harsh condemnation, as if they damned him with the most loathsome of words, Coward…

The judge knew that he must have looked painfully weak in front of this man of God, but he could feel himself breaking apart with every passing moment.

"Claude," Augustin pleaded, inching toward him with his own hands folded. "I beg you, do not abandon Quasimodo. If this is a matter of doubt, consider this: it is possible to learn to love him, but you must keep your heart open. After everything that your brother has put you through, you can extend that same courtesy to your own ward."

Frollo felt himself become sick with grief as he listened to the man's words of wisdom.

Augustin continued. "You can still be a good father, and to do that, you can start by being the man you wanted your own father to be towards you. And you might be happier in doing so."

It made the Minister's skin prickle to know how much the Archdeacon knew about him and the past abuses at the hands of his father. Frollo knew in his heart that he could only care so much about his charge, and that he might never embrace him as his own. After all, it was his own father who reminded him that showing such emotions was a sure sign of weakness.

Detachedly, Frollo finally responded, "I suppose for the sake of my soul, it would be wise to complete the task the Lord has charged me with."

Augustin breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness," he muttered. "I'm proud of you, Claude."

Despite this, the judge was quick to spitefully remind the man, "But I am not obligated to love the boy. I will try and show more compassion, but that is all I can offer."

X

"And you saw to it that my brother is already gone?" Frollo immediately inquired from one guard upon returning to the Palace of Justice. The rain outside had lightened tremendously after the storm last night.

"Actually, sir, he hasn't left," the man answered, following the judge's strides. "He locked himself in one of the chambers and refuses to let anyone in."

"Is that so? Well I'm sure I can reason with him," Frollo replied, trying to hide his annoyance as he shook some rain from his robe. Could this boy not take a hint? What would make him believe that I'd give him any hospitality after the little stunt he pulled?

At the Minister's request, he was led throughout the Palace before being brought to Jehan's room. Taking the key-ring and unlocking the door, Frollo was immediately met with a strained voice crying out, "I told you to go away!"

Never faltering, Frollo drifted forward into the chambers where his eyes fell upon the miserable wretch balled up in the middle of his bed. Sarcastically, the judge quipped, "Well, forgive me for I didn't receive the notice."

Jehan sat up as soon as he recognized his brother's voice, roughly wiping at his eyes. Frollo noticed the younger was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, evidencing that he had hardly left his bed. The pelting of rain drops against the window pane tested the silence between them.

"Why are you still here?" the judge coldly inquired, crossing his arms. "One would think that there is a tavern questioning your whereabouts right about now." Frollo could barely make out the sullen expression on his brother's face in the dark chambers. Jehan didn't move, merely slumping as he peered up at Claude.

"Don't tell me you are still lamenting about them," the judge callously said. "For pity's sake, it's water under the bridge now—it's past time to forget about the whole ordeal and move on."

"But I can't!" Jehan cried, sitting up and facing his brother. "Claude, I feel terrible about those kids. I-I can't stop thinking about them…how I just let them go."

The judge covered his hand over his eyes in exasperation, shaking his head. "Why is this so difficult for you to accept?" he sharply asked, his voice rising. "Those people were practically a horde of strangers to you!"

"You don't get it." Jehan drew his knees to his chest, his expression pitiful and his eyes red and puffy. It was foreign to see him so wracked about something of this nature, as it was more expected to see him broken about the amount of money in his purse.

"I think I do well enough," Claude countered quickly. "You had one opportune moment to step forth and take charge for your actions—and your own flesh and blood at that—and did exactly the opposite. I can see how that might upset a person."

"But you of all people wouldn't know how it feels," Jehan fraughtly replied, tangling his fingers in his blond curls. "Finding out somebody had your children, and never having the chance to know them…You don't have any kids by blood, you just have Quasimodo, so I don't expect you to understand." Tears escaped from his bright blue eyes as he pleaded.

This bout of pity was beginning to grate on the Minister's nerves. To prevent himself from an outburst, he promptly folded his hands before him and evenly responded, "You are correct, but that is only because I have never had the luxury of having another person aiding me at every turn. Ihave always had to accept accountability for my actions. As for Quasimodo, he is still my responsibility as if he were my own. How I personally feel towards the boy is irrelevant."

"You never wish that sometimes you had children of your own?" Jehan asked, sniffling.

Frollo was almost baffled by such stupidity. "No. You and Quasimodo are enough," the Minister deadpanned.

"But those kids were my family!" Jehan's eyes began to shed more tears, trying to choke back a sob. "We shouldn't have done this!"

"Then why didn't you step forward and do the right thing?!" Claude wanted to reach over and beat the life out of this pathetic little man.

Jehan mumbled some incoherent answer, irritating his brother further. "I can't…Not with my life, the chaos, all of it. My lifestyle has no place for kids."

Claude's face twisted to an expression of indignation. "And do you think my own life was in need of children when I became Quasimodo's guardian—it wasn't! But I forced myself to do what needed to be done. I have obligations that you will never need to worry about, and yet I found the ability to do what was right!"

"I ruined those kids, Claude!"

"That's enough!" the man venomously snapped. At last Claude was done with this bemoaning. He marched closer and gripped his brother by his shoulders.

"Listen to me!" he dangerously growled, slate gray eyes narrowing. "You put them out of your mind this instant! They were nothing to you—they will always be nothing to you! They are not your family, do you understand? I am your only blood—I am all that you have in this world. The sooner you realize that, the better!"

Jehan balked at his brother's words, jaw trembling. It shook him that he could be so unfeeling towards something so personal. After years of giving his pity, it seemed as though Claude was finally spent. "But I…"

Before Jehan could finish saying anything, Claude menacingly ordered, "Repeat after me: they are nothing to us." He continued to tighten his grip on Jehan and his threatening gaze never left the boy's eyes. Even now he was forced to comfort his brother as a sniveling wreck, attempting to make him grow up.

For a moment Jehan just sat there, looking back to the apathetic grimace on Claude's face. His heart felt so heavy with guilt that he couldn't find the strength to repeat these pitiless words, even as his brother's fingers gripped savagely into his shoulders.

"Say it!" Claude thundered fiercely, shaking his brother with rage. As much as he wanted to throttle this idiot of a brother, he restrained himself to only this iron-like grip.

Jehan could feel more stinging tears running down his cheeks, now embarrassed that Claude looked upon him in this sorry state. Hollowly, he muttered out, "They're nothing to us."

"And…?"

"And they'll always be nothing to us." If he was unhappy before, Jehan was absolutely devastated now as the bleak words left his lips. The bereft feeling led him to ignore the bruises left by his brother's fingers in his arms.

Claude finally released him, grumbling, "Good. Now that we understand each other we will forget this little episode and carry on, correct?"

The boy vacantly looked down at the darkened floor, not acknowledging the Minister. Numbly, Jehan agreed, "Right."

Frollo couldn't help but roll his eyes at his brother, who tried to keep his tears from escaping anymore. "To wear one's heart on their sleeve is a dangerous thing, you know," the judge darkly commented as he headed toward the door. "You will only allow others to trick and manipulate you in doing so. I suggest that you lock those feeble emotions down now and learn to suppress them before anything like this ever happens again. In fact, you should have learned such a skill years ago."

Before he could turn to leave, Jehan's voice suddenly croaked out, "When did you become so cold? And unfeeling?" There was a sense of accusation in his voice, but at the same time he was truly curious.

Frollo's brows drew together as he looked back at Jehan, still slumped forward. The judge was visibly taken aback by such a question, stopping to ponder an appropriate answer. His younger brother, in turn, scrutinized him, waiting for an answer. In all their years together, Jehan had hardly ever been interested in his older brother's personal life, and now this?

"Have you always been so heartless?" Jehan added, a greater edge in his tone.

In a most grim voice, Claude answered, "I have always been cold; it is more prudent to do away with such trivial things like emotions. That is how you stay alive."

Jehan let out a choked laugh, although there was no humor in it at all. "So that's all that matters?" he tested, a little surprised by Claude's words. "Looking out for yourself?"

Placing his hands behind his back, Frollo unwaveringly answered, "It is called survival, yes. Do you believe that I have accomplished everything in life by sheer dumb luck, or by bending to the wills of others?"

"What—"every man for himself"?"

"Absolutely," Claude affirmed, casually dusting his robe. "I learned at a young age that the world is a merciless place devoid of any sympathy. One learns that life is determined to topple you down, and what matters is choosing whether or not to stand back up. You must learn to keep fighting for yourself, no matter the cost. Show any weakness and you'll be eaten alive like common prey. And personally, I prefer that to my heart being at the mercy of another."

Jehan ran one of his hands through his blond hair, sniffling again. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

Frollo gritted his teeth, wishing that Jehan hadn't asked him such a thing. Quickly, he instead replied, "I think we've indulged in enough mindless prattle for the day. You may stay the night, but I want you out by tomorrow morning." He left without another word.

X

Pushing his study door open, Frollo instantly noticed a slumped figure lazed about in the chair before his desk. He recognized the blond curls and rolled his eyes in irritation. He coldly greeted, "Why are you still here? I swear, Jehan, I will have you dragged out if I must."

Jehan straightened up and locked eyes with the Minister, blue orbs surrounded by dark, tired circles. "You were right," the young man croaked out as Claude sat down opposite him. "I shouldn't have forced you into this mess. I-I ruined that woman and those kids' lives. I made you help me when you didn't need to, and…I'm sorry."

Frollo had bitten back any more harsh reprimand once Jehan offered his own words of remorse. Seeing the defeat etched on Jehan's once cherubic face convinced him that such sentiment might be true.

Please, he's obviously trying to manipulate you, he mentally warned himself. Sternly, he replied, "Spare me the theatrics. I've cleaned up enough of your messes to know that you have no regret for anything that you've done, let alone this."

"I'm serious, Claude," Jehan weakly bit back, leaning forward on his brother's desk. "I should have handled this whole issue by myself instead of pushing you to take care of it. And I'll keep my promise and take care of myself."

Reclining back and folding his hands in front of him, Frollo raised a brow in doubt. "I've known you long enough to know that you do not intend to honor your word."

The young man rose from his seat, his posture not as confident as usual. "I swore that if I run into trouble, I'd handle it, and I will."

Claude still wasn't completely convinced at this immediate turnaround. It wasn't unlike Jehan to use his charm into swaying his brother into forgiving him, even in the most trying of times. Skeptical, he carefully questioned, "Is that so? And why the sudden change of heart? You have been offering me false promises of bettering yourself for years—why should now be any different?"

Jehan averted his eyes shamefully to the gray flagstones beneath his feet. When he found the courage to face Claude again, he defeatedly answered, "Because last night I realized that you've been acting like a father to me for years, and I should've treated you as my brother a long time ago."

The Minister was at a loss for words. He simply focused on Jehan and let him continue his confession.

Jehan sighed heavily, regret in his voice as he went on. "You were right: I should have acted like a man and handled things better. I guess…I suppose that's the difference between us: you have the ability to act as a father, and I didn't want to do the same for Pomona's children. And I feel terrible for what I made you do."

Claude found himself stupefied by this uncharacteristic tenderness by his brother. In all their years, their dynamic seemed to consist solely of guilt, resentment, and abuse. In his mind the judge could still see those small faces, so identical to his brother.

"The point is," Jehan uttered, brushing some hair back. "I had no right to make you do it—you've been saving my neck my whole life, and it's time for me to look out for myself. I mean, you have a kid to look after too—the last thing you need is me pulling you into some mess."

A brief moment of heavy silence passed between the two brothers, both lost in their own contemplative thoughts. Jehan himself felt his insides continuing to churn with agonizing guilt while Claude mulled over these heartful words.

Straightening his back, the Minister spoke up. "You really have never seen me as your brother? That is why you've taken advantage of my kindness all these years?"

Jehan shrugged. "Well, it's not that surprising—you've always been the one teaching me, defending me, screaming at me. And when Pomona said that she wanted me to help raise those kids. I…I knew that there was no way that I could do it."

Claude raised his eyebrows in surprise. Jehan had always touted himself as a man who never backed away from a challenge and thrived on chaos. It was something to hear him admit such a crippling fear which started to make the judge more inclined to believe in this change.

"I know I've never made it easy on you, and I didn't want to go through that," the young man added.

It was true: in all his efforts to keep Jehan out of trouble, Claude had ill-prepared him for the harsh realities of his misdeeds. And years of mocking his brother for being an adopted father must have secretly instilled fear in Jehan over the prospect of parenthood.

Claude mirthlessly chuckled, resting his head against the back of his chair. "I have been much too tolerant of your misbehavior," he replied, casting a grave expression to the boy. "Heaven knows that if you forced your own father to endure such an ordeal, he would have shown no mercy whatsoever."

"Really? How do you think he would have taken this?"

Flatly, the Minister answered, "He would have crushed you like a mere insect. He had no patience for foolishness, and your actions would have had you thrown to the wolves without a second thought."

Jehan's eyes widened, suddenly thankful for his brother's leniency. "I take it he wasn't as sensitive about these issues as you?"

Claude glared sourly at him, sitting up. "Let me remind you of something: when our parents passed on, I swore to God that I would do everything in my power to protect you. I could have easily left you on the steps of some chapel and washed my hands of the deed. But I chose to care for you because you are my brother. Our father felt no obligation to ever lend me a helping hand."

"You didn't learn everything from him, did you?"

"You should count your blessings that he didn't raise you—he could be downright ruthless should you be seen as weak. Do you know what he did to me when I was merely six years old?"

X

"Oh, for God's sake, you're crying?" The Minister of Justice taunted, rearing up from his seat in the parlor. He stormed toward his young son, who instantly recoiled.

Claude couldn't help the tears that managed to escape his eyes. "No, I'm not—I'm not crying, Father, please!" Suddenly the sound of thunder rattled the house, shaking its old windows. The poor boy couldn't prevent a terrified cry escaping his throat as he clasped his small hands over his ears.

"You're crying over a little thunder?" his father tested, gripping Claude by the arm. "How can you be a man if you can't even brave something as small as a thunderstorm?" He yanked his son out of the parlor roughly. "Come with me!" he ordered, dragging the frightened boy away. Rain continued to pelt against the windowpanes harshly.

His wife, while timid, quickly followed the Minister. "Nicolas, what are you doing?" she asked, worry causing her voice to shake.

He pulled his squirming son through the house, wife in tow. "Unless somebody has died, you have no reason to cry!" he bellowed at the boy, dragging him through the kitchen.

Nicolas's iron-like clasp and another booming crack of thunder petrified Claude. Without warning, his father pushed through the back door of the kitchen leading to the courtyard outside. Rain poured down on him and his father as the latter yanked him aside. Mud squished under Claude's feet and his black hair stuck to his face, a mixture of rain and tears nearly blinding him.

Once again Claude's mother cried out for answers, hanging onto the doorway in her hysteria. "What are you doing?!"

Clutching at his small son's shoulders, the Minister blared, "No son of mine is going to be made a fool of by a little noise in the sky! You're going to learn that thunder is nothing to be afraid of—you are going to stand out here until you aren't afraid of it anymore!"

Claude felt as though his arms were going numb by his father's deathly grip. He squeezed his eyes shut as another clap of thunder fell on his ears, all the while shaking like a leaf. "I have to stay out here?!" he reaffirmed, eyes wide in shock.

"Nicolas!" his mother called, evidently beside herself. "He's only six!"

"Stay out of this!" he barked, finally releasing Claude and sending the boy slipping back. He turned his harsh expression back toward his son. "You will learn to be a man, even if it is the last thing I do!"

Claude staggered up, trying not to slip back into the mud. "But I don't want—" he pleaded.

"The thunder is not going to kill you! Now stay out here and face your fear like a man!" Nicolas marched back into the great manor and shut the door forcefully, the heavy lock slamming back into place.

Claude wrapped his arms around his thin frame as the rain poured down on him mercilessly, trying to keep his teeth from chattering by gritting them tightly. Lightning rippled across the night sky followed by more loud crashes of thunder. The sound was murderous on his ears, but the only thing he could do now was wait for it to pass. His chest heaved as he stumbled through the slippery mud toward the tall oak on the other side of the yard. Seating himself against the trunk, Claude shivered as the rain seeped into his clothes and tears continued to roll down his cheeks.

X

The young man was visibly shaken, always uncomfortable when his brother shared a small tidbit of his past with him. He tried to lighten the gloomy atmosphere. "Maybe you're just a natural at the paternal role," Jehan remarked, placing his hands on his hips as he attempted to regain his old demeanor. "God knows you've always managed to protect me and Quasi. Some of us aren't meant to be parents—you might be, considering you're the responsible one."

"Well, it isn't as though I had much of a choice in becoming a surrogate father to you or the boy," Claude darkly stated, tapping his fingers against his armrest.

"You're still the closest thing we've got, so thanks for that. But those kids…they made me realize that you won't always be there to save me."

The judge nodded solemnly, gradually accepting Jehan's words. Perhaps this whole mishap was a small blessing in disguise. "Still," Claude morosely began. "I suppose we are saddled with each other, aren't we? If that is God's plan, who are we to argue with His will?"

"We're all we've got," Jehan added, a lopsided smile just barely stretching over his lips. "But hopefully not like Cain and Abel."

As if his antics haven't been taxing enough all these years, Claude bitterly thought.

"I'm glad we've reached an understanding," Jehan perked up. "I've got some things to take care of in the city, so I should be on my way." Before he could take his leave, Jehan turned back towards his brother, still planted at his desk. "Thank you again, Claude."

The Minister raised his hand to him. "You're welcome. But remember: this was the last time. I expect you to honor your word."

"Of course." Jehan threw his cloak around his shoulder and promptly left.

X

The next day Frollo returned to Notre Dame, to which he found Quasimodo at his table, busying himself with a little drawing on his wax tablet. "I take it you are feeling better, my boy?" Frollo inquired as he entered the bell tower, a basket of food in hand.

Quasimodo smiled and approached the austere man. "Oh, yes, Master! Much better!"

"I'm happy to see you've made such a swift recovery. I may have neglected some of my work, but a small sacrifice to make for your well-being," he smoothly drawled, extracting a grateful nod from the boy. Setting the basket down, Frollo took out an apple and handed it to the boy. "And we should thank the Lord that such an illness did not take you."

"Of course—praise be to God!" Quasimodo piped up. "A-and thank you, sir!"

The two sat and ate, Frollo always pensive. Suddenly, he spoke. "Do you realize how fortunate you are to have me as your guardian, Quasimodo?"

The boy quickly swallowed the fruit in his mouth. "Y-yes, Master, always."

Frollo decided that it was time to remind the boy of his power. "Especially after I saved you from the savagery of the townsfolk when you were just an infant. I still shudder to think of what they might have done to you had I not intervened. Never forget that had I not, they would have murdered you in cold blood."

Quasimodo's lips turned downwards, his expression crestfallen. "Why…why are you telling me this?" he asked carefully.

"Let us just say that certain events in the last few days should make us grateful for the ones we have in our lives. Although, some are more burdensome than others."

X

*A/N: I want to thank everyone who's been reading my stories, from this one, to "Little Boy Frollo" and "Love You to Death". I know the fandom seems to have gone silent still, but I still love reading and writing these.

I know this is a chatty chapter, but I wanted it to be important to Jehan's character development.

Thanks for reading, and please read and review!