*** Update (2/22/19): My progress on other writing projects has taken longer than I expected, and the revisions I had planned for this story have been pushed back indefinitely. I feel that it is best that I officially place this story on hiatus, for the time being. That said, I do not intend to abandon it. I simply need to take some time to revise it and work out a feasible timeline for the plot (going from pre-game to post-game presents a challenging amount of choices of storytelling options that I didn't originally take into consideration). For those of you who have read what's available, thank you for your support and your patience. It may take a while, but this story will be told. ***

(Disclaimer: As a work of fanfiction, the creation of this piece does not imply ownership of the Final Fantasy franchise, its characters, or any affiliated intellectual property.)

Her first clear memory was of the cold. Cold wind, cold rubble, cold flesh next to hers. She couldn't remember who the flesh belonged to, only that she must have loved this person very much, because she refused to leave them even when hunger pulled at her insides and her torn clothes no longer kept out the chill. She refused to leave when a pair of gloved hands shook her awake and enveloped her in warm, coarse fabric smelling of smoke and dust. And she cried out with all the strength left in her feeble little body when those hands lifted her away, ferrying her to a warm place, and another life.

"Selphie."

The word was muffled and sounded more like a gurgle, but Selphie recognized enough of her name to turn toward the speaker. She saw the army uniform and thought for a moment it was her father, but the man was too tall to be, and his face was too thin. He held his chin and frowned at her.

"That's what I was afraid of," he said to another man dressed in a white coat and sitting at a desk. "This is Tilmitt's girl."

Selphie couldn't hear the other man's reply. She shook her head to clear her ears, but it did no good. She'd spent the last few days drifting in and out of a deep sleep, half-aware but fully grateful that she could hear very little of what was happening around her.

The man at the desk stood up and she recognized him as a doctor. His stethoscope swung across his chest as he approached her, and he stuck a hard plastic instrument inside Selphie's ear. She yelped and squirmed.

"Her ears are looking good," he said. "She's going to be fine. Her hearing should return completely in the next few days." He sat back and scribbled on a sheet of paper. "Any surviving family?"

"None that we know of. All of Tilmitt's next of kin were in that house – his wife, his mother, his sons. I don't know how this little one survived."

The doctor sighed and turned to face Selphie. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward, smiling sadly. "Hello, Selphie," he said slowly, exaggerating his mouth movement so that she might read his lips. "I'm Dr. Harmon. How are you feeling today?"

Selphie began to answer him, but found her mouth wasn't working right. It was dry, and it felt like her tongue was coated with dust. She opened and closed her mouth several times before she spoke. "My head hurts," she said. "And my ears are all funny."

Dr. Harmon accepted a cup from the soldier and handed it to her. She drank, feeling the cold water slide down her throat, taking with it the dusty feeling in her mouth. Dr. Harmon nodded. "You took quite a bump to your head," he explained, "and the sound of the explosion hurt your ears. But it looks like you'll make a full recovery."

He checked the bags of intravenous solution hanging next to the bed, and Selphie became aware of the needle sticking in the crook of her arm. She shrieked and began fumbling at the tape holding it in place, managing only to scratch her own skin before the doctor caught her hand. He explained that the needle had to stay there, that that's how she'd been getting her medicine and nutrition.

Selphie let her arms drop and studied the weave in the blanket draped over her legs. She just wanted to go home. She'd only heard bits of what the doctor and soldier had been saying, but she'd caught the word "house," and maybe "mother," too. "I wanna see Mama," she said finally. "I wanna go home."

She looked up when the doctor didn't reply. He turned from her to the soldier and back again, then repositioned himself on his stool. He looked uncomfortable. Selphie felt her stomach tighten and cold sweat gather above her upper lip.

"Selphie, sweetie," he said, lacing and unlacing his fingers. He stammered, glanced at the soldier again, and told her everything.

Selphie cried, tearing at her gown and her hair, trying to kick and bite the doctor and soldier as they tried to restrain her. She fought until she felt a cool surge in her arm, and her world darkened at the edges and dropped away.

Selphie picked at the sticker on the front of her overalls. She lifted the top corner and examined the green fuzz collected underneath, then found that no matter how hard she pressed on it, that corner no longer stuck to the fabric. Deciding she would go by "elphie" from now on, she gave up on the sticker and looked at the two women talking to each other a few feet away.

Ms. Beaufort was the taller of the two, dressed in a dark gray suit, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Ms. Beaufort had taken Selphie in for several weeks after Selphie was discharged from the hospital. Ms. Beaufort was kind but distant, and stressed that Selphie's living arrangement was temporary. About a month ago, she came home with a thin folder and two tickets for travel to a place called Centra.

"You'll be living at the orphanage there," she told Selphie. "It won't be scary. There will be other children. Perhaps you can make some new friends."

Ms. Beaufort even brought out a map and showed Selphie where they were headed. Selphie followed Ms. Beaufort's finger as it traced a wandering line down the map from her home on the southern slopes of the Vienne Mountains, wondering where it would stop. When Ms. Beaufort finished marking their route, Selphie's eyes widened. Centra was at the other end of the world.

"It'll take forever to get there," she said.

Ms. Beaufort chuckled. "Several weeks, maybe a month. We'll take a car to the coast, and take a boat the rest of the way. You'll get to see some different places. You might have fun."

"It's so far away. Why do I have to go? Why can't I stay here with you?"

Ms. Beaufort knelt beside Selphie and hugged her. Selphie thought she must have looked really sad for her to do that. Ms. Beaufort held her for a few minutes, whispering reassurances, telling her that the orphanage would take very good care of her, better than Ms. Beaufort could.

The next morning, Selphie walked out of Ms. Beaufort's house, a gray canvas knapsack slung over one shoulder, and boarded the waiting car. As the car took off, Selphie twisted in the back seat and watched her homeland disappear into the fog that tumbled down the mountainside.

Now, Selphie stood on this strange, rocky ground, breathing in the warm ocean air and studying the matron of the orphanage. This woman was small, but beautiful. She was dressed all in black, and her dark hair hung loose past her waist. Two blond children, a boy and a girl, hovered near her, dispersing in a fit of giggles when she waved them back toward the house. Selphie could hear the women's conversation, but it made little sense to her, so she busied herself watching an insect crawling along the ground.

"I've had an influx of orphans from that area recently," the matron said. "Is something going on? Since we've lost radio contact, I haven't been able to keep up with the news."

"Civil skirmishes," Ms. Beaufort replied. "Adel was not well-liked, but she was not universally hated. Some regions and groups did very well under her rule, and they resent the installation of a new government without their input. The elites in Esthar City have isolated themselves and the nearby scientific and military facilities, and while they recognize the tensions in the hinterland, they haven't provided support. They only say that they are in the process of 'smoothing out the wrinkles' in this new government. It doesn't matter to them that these 'wrinkles' often result in innocent civilian casualties."

"This child's family among them."

"She lost them all in two days. Her father was a captain in the army, struck down during a riot that erupted in his hometown. The next day, the rebels commandeered a military vehicle and shelled the town, hitting his house. Selphie was the only survivor."

Selphie heard the matron draw a ragged breath, but when she looked up, the woman smiled. The matron walked over to where Selphie stood and bent to look at her face.

"Hello, Selphie," she said. "My name is Edea Kramer. I'm the matron of this orphanage. It's very nice to meet you."

For some reason, Edea made Selphie feel shy. Selphie looked at the ground and scuffed the toe of her shoe against a protruding rock. "It's nice to meet you, too," she said.

"How old are you?"

"Three."

Edea opened the folder Ms. Beaufort had given her. "I see your birthday is in July. What luck! It's only a few months away, so perhaps you will spend it here with the other children." She took Selphie's hand and straightened. The two of them walked back to Ms. Beaufort, who placed her hands on Selphie's shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"You'll be just fine, Selphie," she told her. "Remember that you are strong." She squeezed Selphie's shoulders and kissed the top of her head before picking her way across the rocky landscape to the beach and boarding the waiting vessel without a backwards glance.

As they watched the boat move out to sea, Edea tugged Selphie's hand. "What do you say we go meet the other children?"

Inside the front gate, the orphanage was abuzz with activity. Children shouted and laughed, darted behind walls and perched on short, broken pillars. They gradually quieted and drew near as Selphie walked in. She recognized the two blond children from before. The boy looked at her, shrunk away, and turned to run, but the girl caught him by his suspenders and pulled him back. An older girl, about eight or nine, with short dark hair, stepped out from behind the others and smiled. A smaller dark-haired boy trailed at her heels, hanging back slightly and eyeing Selphie warily.

"Hello," the older girl said. "My name is Ellone. A lot of the kids call me Sis, like big sister. And you are –" Ellone peered at Selphie's name badge, smoothing out the curled edge – "Selphie! Welcome."

"Thank you." Selphie's eyes flitted from one curious face to the next. So, this would be her family, for the time being. She wondered if these kids would want to be her friends. She feared they might tease her, that they might all hate her. She feared – no, she shouldn't fear anything. She was Selphie Tilmitt, she was strong, even Ms. Beaufort said so. Selphie straightened and gave everyone her widest smile. "I'm Selphie Tilmitt," she declared loudly, "and I like to play tag and hide and seek and lots and lots of pretend! We can be friends!"

Ellone laughed and the other children began speaking over one another, waving and shouting greetings. Taking Selphie's hand from Edea's, Ellone guided her toward the group, out of the shadows and into the warm morning sunlight. The air smelled of earth and sea and flowers. "Here," Ellone said, "let me introduce you to everyone."

As Selphie came to know the children at the orphanage, she gravitated toward a small group made up mostly of children her own age, several of whom she'd noticed when she first arrived. The two blond children who had been playing near Matron that day were Quistis and Zell. Quistis was nice enough, but she always tried to act much older than she was. She looked up to Ellone and tried to be like her, but where Ellone was patient and sisterly, Quistis was easily frustrated and often bossy. Zell, on the other hand, was as skittish as a wild animal. Nearly everything frightened him, and his reactions were so predictably dramatic that he became the constant target of the resident bully, a boy named Seifer. When he was calm, though, Selphie found that he was fun to play with, mainly because he never said her ideas were boring or stupid.

The dark-haired boy who followed Ellone everywhere was named Squall. He was very quiet, more of an observer than a participant. He hovered at the edges of the little group, his big blue eyes taking in every detail, every gesture, every word spoken. Since he clung to Ellone more than the other children, Selphie wondered whether they were actually related, but all Ellone said when she asked was, "Kind of." Selphie was able to get Squall to talk with her a few times, but only when none of the other children were around. He seemed very shy.

Then there was Irvine. Irvine was mischievous. If there was trouble, he would find it, then try to charm his way out of it, usually by telling Matron how lovely she looked that day as she bandaged the cuts and scrapes he'd sustained in his latest misadventure. The small success rate of his method never stopped him from trying again the next time. But his adventurousness made him an ideal playmate for Selphie, and Selphie soon found that he would readily do her bidding, no matter how foolish or dangerous her request. She used this to her advantage several times to procure extra sweets from the pantry, which she successfully hid under her bed until the ants found them, and her feet.

Adjusting to her new life, Selphie felt the warmth come back into her heart. Her new friends, and her new adventures with them, helped push her painful memories to the back of her mind. She still woke up crying sometimes, from a dream so vivid she could feel her mother's arms again, but morning light always chased those shadows away. Her world was so vibrant now, so full of life, that there was no room left in it for tears.

Enjoying the sun and the seafoam, the flowers and the trees, Selphie did not notice the cold chipping away at the edges of her new life until it found its way in.

Matron had taken ill. Squall said he had seen her talking to a strange man dressed in black the day before, and that night she screamed herself awake several times. She tried to convince the children the next morning that she had only a minor illness; a cold, perhaps. But Selphie saw the way her hands trembled as she pulled a shawl around her shoulders, and the blue tinge creeping around her eyes and lips looked like symptoms of something far worse.

Matron left Ellone in charge of the other children and returned to her room. Along the way, she stumbled and placed her hand against the wall to steady herself. When she removed it, her handprint remained, glistening as frost upon the stone. The children crowded around the handprint, examining it. Irvine angled his head and moved closer, reaching toward it.

"Don't touch that!" Ellone cried, but it was too late. Irvine shrieked and recoiled, holding his hand to his chest. Ellone pushed the others aside and took his hand in hers. The middle finger of his right hand was already blue, and the color was spreading rapidly. Ellone grabbed a nearby dishcloth and wrapped his hand in it, breathing on the towel and leading him to the stove, instructing him to hold his hand above it for warmth. She unwrapped his hand and Selphie could see that the blue had already reached his wrist. Ellone gasped and ran to the next room, from where the children heard her rummaging through the cupboards. She returned with one of Matron's elixirs. She poured a small amount of the elixir on the towel and rubbed it over Irvine's hand, then told him to drink the rest. Irvine ceased howling long enough to swallow the elixir, and no sooner had he finished, than the blue receded from his hand.

Ellone sighed and looked at the others, who had been watching in stunned silence. Irvine still whimpered beside her, more from fright now that the effects of the magic were wearing off. Selphie heard shuffling behind her and turned when Matron entered the room.

"What happened?" she asked. "Who's hurt?"

"It's Irvine, Matron," Quistis piped up, and the rest of the children joined in with their own excited tales of what had just occurred.

"He's all right," Ellone shouted over the clamor. "He's fine now, but I had to use one of your elixirs, Matron. I'm very sorry."

"Not at all, Ellone. That's why they are there." Matron looked confused until Seifer spoke up.

"The big dummy nearly froze his hand off," he said. "All because he touched that."

Matron followed Seifer's finger and shivered when she saw the handprint on the wall. She stepped back and Selphie got a good look at her face. Matron's eyebrows twitched rapidly, her expression alternating between horror and mirth, and small purple lines crept across her skin from her hairline. Her eyes darted around the room and Selphie thought she saw them change color, flashing bright yellow for an instant. The others must have seen it, too, because they backed away from Matron, moving toward Ellone for comfort.

"No," Matron whispered, then collected herself and turned toward the frightened group. "Children, it seems I am more ill than I thought. Nothing terrible, but I will need to rest. Cid will be returning this evening, but until then, I must ask you to play quietly and listen to Ellone. I will see you later tonight, I promise." She tried to smile at them, but it became a grimace, her face a grotesque mask that chilled Selphie's heart. Matron disappeared into her room and the children dispersed, albeit with downcast eyes and shuffling feet.

When Cid returned and Ellone told him what had happened, he rushed into Matron's room without greeting anyone else. Selphie snuck close enough to the door to hear them speaking to one another, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. Irvine and Zell hovered nearby, and the three of them scattered when the doorknob turned and Cid emerged. To Selphie's surprise, he did not scold them; he just looked at them absently, then called for Ellone.

Dinner was late that evening, and Selphie had resorted to chewing on blades of grass to trick her stomach into thinking she was having a meal. Matron joined them at the table, looking more like her old self. Ellone, on the other hand, looked pale, and merely picked at her plate despite not having eaten any more than the other children had. She hugged each of them in turn that night, holding them tighter and longer than she ever had, telling them to be strong. Selphie's throat tightened; she'd heard those words before, and she learned that they were just another way of saying goodbye.

Her fear was realized some days later, when she and the others stood in Ellone's room, staring at the bare mattress on the bed, looking for, but finding no sign that Ellone had ever been there.

Ellone's absence changed life at the orphanage, and Selphie's close group began to fracture. Though everyone missed Ellone terribly, Squall seemed completely heartbroken. He wandered away from the orphanage for hours each afternoon, searching for her, only to return discouraged. His sadness caught Seifer's attention, and Seifer abandoned teasing Zell in favor of this new project. Quiet though he was, Squall could be provoked into fighting back, and it wasn't long before his run-ins with Seifer became physical.

Quistis, trying hard to fill Ellone's role as big sister, would break up these fights, often stepping in front of Squall to shield him from Seifer. This only made both boys angry with her, and after each fight, Selphie saw the three of them walking in different directions, each equally dejected.

One cloudy afternoon, Seifer and Squall had a particularly nasty fight. Selphie joined the ring of children that had gathered around them, listening to the boys' muffled grunts and the dull smack of knuckles on skin. They were in a heap on the sand by the time Quistis pushed her way through the crowd, grabbed Squall by the arm, and pulled him away.

Seifer sat up, wiped the blood from his cut lip with the back of his hand, and laughed. "Look at this baby," he said, "can't even fight for himself. He needs a girl to save him!" When the other children remained silent, he only laughed louder.

Meanwhile, Squall struggled free from Quistis' grip. He was biting his lower lip and his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white. He glared at Quistis and flung his arm out, driving her back. "Leave me alone," he shouted. "You just make everything worse. You're not Sis. Stop trying to be her!" He turned and ran in the direction of the lighthouse, leaving Seifer laughing and Quistis in tears.

As the afternoon dragged on, and the orphanage quieted down, Selphie noticed that Squall hadn't come back. She had felt bad watching him get beaten up and then teased, so she stuffed an extra stick of candy in her pocket and walked down the beach to look for him. Reaching the base of the lighthouse with no luck, she began to climb over the rocks next to it.

Breathing hard, her little fingers scraped raw, Selphie hauled herself onto the largest boulder in front of her and looked down. There, perched on a flat rock and looking out to sea, sat Squall. Selphie grinned.

"Ha!" she said. "Found you!"

"Go away."

"Come on. I brought you candy. Irvy helped me steal some. It's peppermint." She held up the sugary stick. Squall turned around, looked at it, and made a face.

"It's all fuzzy from your pocket."

Selphie inspected the candy and pulled off bits of green lint. "So you don't want it?" Squall shook his head. Selphie shrugged and put the candy in her mouth. Knowing better than to head back while eating a stolen treat, she slid down the gravel slope and sat next to Squall. He didn't move. She could see a big reddish-purple mark blooming on his left cheek, and a little bit of dried blood where his skin had split against the bone.

"Why'd you get so mad at Quisty today?" she asked. "She wanted to help you."

"She treats me like a baby." Squall flung a small stone into the waves below. "I don't need her takin' care of me. I gotta be strong, all by myself, so I can find Sis."

Selphie nodded, munching a chunk of candy. "Yeah, I gotta be strong, too." Squall looked at her. She continued, "Matron thinks I forgot my family, 'cause I don't talk about them. But I didn't. We had a pretty house, and it was me and Mama and Daddy and Grandma and my two brothers. I miss them a lot, but they can't come back. Sometimes I'm sad, but I can't do anything. So I just hafta be strong!"

Squall frowned. "But you don't act sad. You're always laughing."

"That's 'cause I don't like crying."

His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, but he quickly turned back toward the sea and sighed. "I don't like laughing."

Selphie giggled at this and he glared at her. She finished her peppermint stick and licked her fingers, then got up and dusted the seat of her overalls. The sun was dipping lower behind the clouds, and soon the lighthouse keeper would light the beacon. Selphie turned and clambered back up the rock, and after a moment, Squall left his sulking to follow.

When they reached the beach, Selphie smiled at him. "Race ya!"

"That's stupid," Squall replied, but when she ran ahead, he broke into a run, too. Selphie knew he hated games, but he hated losing more, and when he passed her, she saw a corner of his mouth pulled up in the faintest of grins.

As the days grew shorter and the flowers faded, the little group broke apart, child by child. A rich-looking couple came to adopt Quistis, and a few days later, Cid disappeared with both Seifer and Squall. A man and a woman with wind-roughened skin and easy smiles took Zell home as their own. The orphanage became very quiet, and noises Selphie had hardly noticed before – wind blowing through empty rooms, creaking door hinges – suddenly felt spooky, as if the building itself was crying for the children it had lost.

All of this upheaval dampened Irvine's mischievous nature, and when an important-looking man in a blue and gold coat handed him a suitcase and told him to pack, he meekly followed orders. Finally, just before the beginning of winter, a man and a woman dressed in fur-lined coats arrived for Selphie. Matron made pleasant conversation with them, but Selphie could tell she was struggling to smile. When the strangers slipped a coat onto Selphie and led her toward a waiting boat, Matron stood at the orphanage door and waved, but offered no hug or kiss farewell.

The strangers introduced themselves as instructors at a new school, where Selphie would study and live from now on. They assured Selphie that she would love her new home, and told her there would be more children there than at the orphanage, and that there would be clubs to join and classes to focus on. She would soon forget about the orphanage altogether, they said, and, remembering how painful it had been to lose her second family, Selphie agreed this would be a good thing.

Their boat sailed north from the orphanage, retracing the route that Selphie had taken to get there, and she hoped they would stop somewhere warm and green, where the sunlight could melt her sadness away again. But her hope faded as they passed harbor after harbor and the breezes took on sharp, chill edges. She thought she might cry when, one morning, she looked out the porthole next to her little bunk and saw chunks of ice floating in the dark water. She shook the tears away and dressed, retrieving her coat from the bottom of her knapsack.

When the boat docked at a frozen beach, Selphie hesitated. The frosty air stung her eyes and made her cheeks burn. She heard the mixture of sand and ice crunching beneath the instructors' boots and she shivered. But when the female instructor turned back and offered her hand, Selphie straightened and accepted it, breathing in deeply, realizing then that she would never escape the cold.