Home

Quasimodo stood in his quarters, within the tower of Notre Dame. His neck remained a mosaic of different colours, from where the Lich had torn into him. Blue stitches poked through his bruised skin. He walked about the series of rooms, gathering books, clothes and a few mementos. With care, he packed his things into an aged wooden trunk. He stood for a moment, glancing at the few items, arranging them so they would not shift. He closed the lid and shoved the trunk toward Hellboy. Both disappeared down the ladder.

Kate watched as Quasimodo passed through the little rooms once more. He walked out last, securing the door with a shiny metal lock. He stood at the top of the ladder, leaning against the old door. Kate followed his eyes upward, to the mechanical bells and ancient beams.

"This place, it's my world." He looked to the beams and wooden supports. "Paris doesn't even know I exist. It will never even know I'm gone."

"It's one year, Quasimodo." Kate offered her hand. "Experience something new. Should you wish, I will personally bring you home, to Notre Dame."

"I can't believe that I'm doing this." Quasimodo climbed down the ladder, his eyes remaining high into the tower. "Promise me that if I do die... I mean, if anything should happen..." He passed his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. His fingers came rest on his chin and he sighed. Kate followed his gaze upward, toward the dusty beams. "...I need to rest here."

"You'll be fine, Quasimodo. You'll not be going on field missions."

Together, they walked from Notre Dame. The streets of Paris were alive with the vibrant colours of sunset. People filled the streets, consumed in their activities. Skateboarders rolled about between the gardens in the square. Other tourists stood, snapping photographs of Notre Dame. Hellboy garnered some looks, Quasimodo and Kate ignored. Bells chimed out over the city, the sound echoing from the towers of Notre Dame. Quasimodo turned to face Notre Dame one last time. He turned toward Hellboy and Kate and nodded.

"I'm ready. I can do this."

Within moments they were in the BPRD van, driving out of Paris. Quasimodos face lay near the window, drinking in the landscape. The van pulled up to a gate, surrounded by barbed wire. A single black and white sign bearing the words "Base aérienne 117" was riveted to the gate. The van drove onto a narrow airstrip.

The driver opened the door near a small cargo plane. Hellboy walked on, followed by carts of equipment. Quasimodo remained behind, his eyes fixed on the wings of the plane.

"Quasi, what's wrong?"

"We will ride to your home in that?" He paused. "They fly over Paris all of the time. I never thought I would ever..."

"Ride in one? It's OK." Kate smiled at him. "Now is not the time to say you're scared of heights."

Quasimodo swallowed, then stepped into the plane. He followed Hellboy and Kate in buckling himself in. Hellboy and Kate donned headphones, offering him a set. He set them onto his lap.

Hellboy sat beside him, drinking beer from a clear glass bottle.

"Make yourself comfortable. It's a long ride to Iceland." Hellboy offered a pack of gum. "Chew on this or your ears will pop."

"Iceland?" Quasimodo raised his eyebrow. "No thanks, I have trouble with gum."

"Iceland for re-fuelling, two hours in Gander to pick up a few documents and finally Connecticut." Hellboy offered his cooler. Quasimodo drew out a bottle of beer and popped the cap with his callused thumb.

"I just know you will enjoy your stay. There are students who would love to learn everything you know about bells." Kate pulled a book from her satchel and passed it to Quasimodo. "Not just bells, either. Many wish to learn the old ways, craving the knowledge you hold. Stained glass, sculpture, alchemy, literature, medieval medicine... "

"I do know many things about bells." Quasimodo smiled. He thumbed through lists of proposed studies and courses, resting his thumb on a photograph of a cathedral window. "What would people, would students, say? About..." Quasimodo looked to his shoes, then to his hand. He motioned to his face. "...about this?"

"About as much as they say when Abraham instructs them. My students desire to learn and will be professional."

"You are both nerds." Hellboy continued to drink.

The plane began to tremble as the engines started. Quasimodo jumped in his seat at the sudden onslaught of noise. He hurridly fit the headphones over his ears.

"The BPRD library is massive. I'm certain you will be spending many hours enjoying what it has to offer. Abraham is eager to meet you, as is Johan." The elevator carried them higher. "They should be back from Chile later this week. There were more vampires in the cult than either of them expected."

Quasimodo looked to Kate. "You said this visit is strictly academic."

"No field missions, I promise." Kate stepped out of the elevator.

Dr. Corrigan and Quasimodo stood in the hallway, on the top floor of the BPRD headquarters. She placed a pair of keys into his hand. A small bell dangled from the keys, attached with a broad green ribbon.

"These are your quarters and you may come and go at your leisure. Everything should be to your liking." Kate smiled. "We were also able to find something special for you."

Quasimodo unlocked the door. Sunlight filled the room, causing him to shade his eyes. He stepped inside, toward the large windows that overlooked a treed valley. He paused midway across the room, looking up. Emmanuel hung, silenced, overhead. Quasimodo froze, his eyes fixed inside the bell.

"Where did you find him?" Quasimodo circled under the bell, noting the clapper had been padded with rubber.

"England." Kate looked at the bell. "Only Emmanuel remained. The others are gone, melted. I'm sorry."

Kate directed him to his trunk. Quasimodo walked slowly, his feet dragging the laminate floor. Kate walked him to the kitchen, opening the cupboards for him. She prepared the coffee maker.

"The cupboards are stocked with the basics. If anything is missing, write a note to housekeeping and it will be addressed." They stood in the kitchen. "There will be a meeting at 06:00 tomorrow, regarding the Lich and it's destruction. The report is written and the file will close quickly. You will need to bring the necklace." Kate looked at Quasimodo, who appeared drowsy. "I will leave you to settle in. You have about 20 hours. Try to get some rest."

"Thank-you." Quasimodo smiled. Kate smiled back, then left.

Quasimodo explored his new space. The space was larger and much less cluttered than Notre Dame.

The bedroom was darker and colder, with a large soft bed in the centre of the room. He pressed the foam with his fist, sinking the blankets to his wrist. He passed his hand over the blankets, they were smooth and free of patches and holes.

He wandered about, noting that every room was bare of all but the essentials. The walls lacked art, as well as mirrors. Everything was new and unused. Bars of soap remained in boxes, stacked next to sealed bottles of shampoo and fresh towels. Pencils lay neatly in a desk drawer, un-sharpened. The notebooks and drawing pads were in their original plastic wrappers.

Quasimodo poured himself a mug of coffee and sat next to the trunk. He lifted out quills, papers and journals, loading them into the desk and onto the shelves. He unpacked his few clothes. After struggling to unwrap the hangers, he realized his shirts slid off them with the slightest tilt. Instead, he tossed his clothes into a drawer.

He walked to the large window, looking at the landscape. Trees lay before him, as far as he could see. What appeared to be trails wove through the forest. He stared into the sky, toward the clouds. The occasional bird flew above the building, over the windows. He could feel the quiet, the lack of a low rumble beneath his feet. There was no subway, no sirens. It was like it had been long ago, when all was silent all the time, save the bells.

Quasimodo felt the row of windows, locating one that could be opened. He pushed the desk toward the window. He tore the plastic wrappers, opening a new notebook and a pouch of pens. With care, he laid out his coffee, notebook and a pen onto the desk. He opened the window, allowing a blast of cool air into the apartment. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking in the scent of trees and clean air. It had been centuries since he'd breathed air this fresh. He raised his pen to the blank page.

"BPRD, Day 1..."