Author's Note: This story was originally written with the intention of making my dissatisfaction known with the way the anime series ended, with the premature deaths of Chrno and Rosette, neither of them able to live out their lives as they had wished, or—as I'm sure as we would have all liked—together. As you can probably see from the description of this particular fan fiction, it has evolved into much more since then.
Also, readers please note that this is a work of FICTION. I did quite a bit of research in order to compose this tale, but a lot of information I give here is, for the most part, fabricated. Please do not sue, hurt, kill or otherwise maim me for my fictionisms.
I'd also like to make it known before I begin that I am a self-proclaimed agnostic. If I commit any blunder in the religious aspects of my story, please do not hesitate to tell me!
Now please enjoy (and review, if it pleases you!) the first chapter of The Cross of Lorraine!
—Koru-chan
Edited 07/28/06--I was too lazy to fix it before, but at the reminder of a reviewer, it seems I have misspelled Remington's first name. He will now be referred to as 'Ewan' as opposed to 'Euan.'
Chapter One: The Merced
It was Sunday, and all three friends had the day off. It was a perfect day to take a walk by the seaside, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. On one side was a girl with smiling, Asian eyes. She stretched her arms way up into the air, careful not to let her sleeves slide off her wrists, and shook her long, silky black hair out in the wind coming off the sea and laughed.
"What's got you so happy, Steph?" The tanned man in the middle asked her, a contagious grin on his thin lips.
Stephanie just giggled and slid her arm into his and leaned up against his shoulder.
"It's been so long since we got out and did something together!" she sighed. "It's just feels so good to be outside!"
The girl on the other side laughed at this, her short, wavy brown hair brushing around her face.
"It's only been a week!" she said, pushing her hair back behind her ear.
"But it seems like so much longer!" Stephanie drawled. Then she jumped up in front of them and held out her hand, pointing at both of them so they had to stop. "I've got an idea! Let's get ice cream! My treat!"
"Your treat?" the man asked. "You dare make a mockery of the only male in this little faction? If it's going to be anyone's treat it's going to be mine!"
Stephanie giggled and linked her arm in his once again.
"Well, Nathan, since you insist!" she said with mock admiration.
The brown-haired girl laughed at this. Things had always ended up that way since Nathan had joined them. Stephanie would insist on doing something nice, and Nathan would take it on himself, always calling it 'his duty, as man of the house.' They all thought of it as a nice joke, but she knew it should have been her treating them, although both Stephanie and Nathan protested every time she offered, saying that she had given them enough already.
She was suddenly pulled out of her thoughts when the sight of a man caught her eye. His blonde hair shouldn't have stood out among the other Caucasian people along the street, but he was sitting, slumped over against the wall of a building, covered in an old, greasy rag of a blanket and apparently sleeping.
"Ellen!"
She looked up as Nathan and Stephanie came back from the ice cream vendor. Two were in Stephanie's hand.
"Which do you want, Ellen?" she asked. "Chocolate or strawberry? You'd better say chocolate, because I'm in the mood for pink!"
"Well, that's not much of a choice, is it?" Ellen laughed, taking the chocolate one.
She took a bite and reveled in the cool sweetness in her mouth, compared to the heat of the day around them. She reminded herself that the heat wouldn't last long now—it was nearing mid-autumn. The nights were getting colder. This reminded her of the man she had seen by the building and looked over. He hadn't moved.
"What are you looking at, Ellen?" Nathan asked, and he and Stephanie followed her gaze to where the man sat. "Oh."
They watched as all of the people who passed him paid him little or no mind. He didn't even have a cup or hat to beg for change with. They had seen this before; people who simply gave up on life. They didn't last long on the streets in that condition. It's what had almost happened to Nathan, before Ellen and Stephanie had saved him.
It was almost a year ago that Nathan had been in that same way. Ellen and Stephanie had come over to him and simply offered him a place to sleep, some food and water, and a chance to get back on his feet. At first, he had been very suspicious—who wouldn't be, in that situation? But he had taken their offer, and after a while found that they were offering him genuine kindness without asking to be given anything in return. Once his strength had returned, he asked them why it was that they did what they did. They told him that they called themselves the Merced, and their mission was to spread the word of God by showing people His mercy and how He freely gave second chances. Hearing this, Nathan was inspired, and asked if he could join them, having nothing else he could really do with his life. Having grown fond of their new roommate, they agreed. He had been around ever since.
Both Stephanie and Ellen were sure that he saw himself in the blonde man there, as he did in every homeless person they saved. And since he had come, it was getting easier for the girls to help their victims, as Nathan knew exactly where their minds were at, having been there himself.
Nathan walked wordlessly back over to the vendor and bought a fourth ice cream, and then went over to the man. Stephanie and Ellen followed at a distance, knowing from experience that it was Nathan's job to break the ice, and he did this better on his own than with company. He had told them that crowds just made the homeless feel defensive—they were exposed to crowds every day. What they needed was contact with a single, caring soul. He had taught Ellen and Stephanie how to approach these people with this mentality, but he was still better at it than they were.
Ellen and Stephanie watched as he squatted down next to the blonde man and offered him the cup.
"My friends and I are going to sit on the docks and finish our ice cream. You're more than welcome to join us."
The blonde man lifted his head and revealed tired, blue eyes. His questioning gaze was met with Nathan's smiling face. He hesitated.
"Go on," Nathan prompted. "It's not like I poisoned it or anything!"
The blonde man's expression suddenly took on a skeptic look, and Nathan laughed at the implication. He put the treat at the man's side and stood up.
"Hope to see you over there!" Nathan said, then waved and went back to Ellen and Stephanie. The three of them headed for the docks.
"Are you sure that went okay?" Stephanie asked Nathan. "He didn't look too eager."
"Well," Nathan said, not looking at her. "It's like you guys say; if they can't accept the smallest kindnesses, then they won't be able to accept your offers, right?"
Stephanie and Ellen exchanged glances. This was their theory, and it had held sound since they'd developed it. Nathan was right; they would just have to wait and see.
The day was beginning to fade into the afternoon when the three had finished their ice cream and Stephanie was beginning to get restless.
"We've been sitting here for hours," she whined. "He must not be coming. Let's just go."
Ellen sighed. She hated it when there wasn't anything she could do about the suffering of others. But there were some who just couldn't see the light ahead of them, or didn't have the strength to reach out and take the helping hand offered to them. She stood up.
"Let's go home."
Leaving the docks, all three glanced over at where the blonde man still sat, the ice cream at his side, now a melted puddle. His head was bowed, hair shading his face.
Ellen stopped.
"Ellen?" Stephanie asked, then looked over at the man and sighed. She went to Ellen's side and put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Come on, Ellen, there isn't anything we can do for him."
But, wordlessly, Ellen pulled away from Stephanie and began walking over to the man.
"Ellen?" Nathan called after her, but she didn't stop.
Ellen came to a halt before the man. This time he didn't look up. She knelt down before him and tilted her head to look up under his hair at his face. His eyes were closed, and dark patches circled heavily under his eyes.
So much pain, she thought. She reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead. He didn't move. So that's why you didn't come.
"Nathan!" she called back to her friend. "Come help me with him, would you? He's unconscious!"
Nathan and Stephanie exchanged surprised looks, then went over to help. Ellen propped herself under one of his arms, and Nathan got the other. Slowly, carefully, the three carried him back to their apartment.
The blonde man awoke to the feeling of morning sun on his face and the smell of coffee in the air. He opened his eyes slowly, expecting the dream to fade as he came closer to consciousness, but neither sensation died away as he had expected. Instead, they became stronger. Soon, he could hear the sound of something sizzling, and a faint musical humming.
His eyes opened wider and he took in his surroundings. He was in a small, simple room with a desk and chair by an open window. There was a dresser across from the desk, and also a sink and mirror. He lay in a single bed, under a warm blanket and clean sheets. He rose up and took another good look at the room around him.
Where am I?
The humming was getting louder. Someone was singing now. It was a familiar song, but he couldn't place the lyrics. He got out from under the bedding and stepped onto the hardwood floor. He found himself dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Beside his feet were a pair of slippers. Without thinking, he put them on and got up, following the smell of breakfast out the door of the room, down a long hall to an open doorway and into a dining room, with a kitchen in the corner. Standing there, back to him, was the source of the noise. He recognized the brown-haired girl as one of the two who had been with the young man who had approached him. What had happened after that? He couldn't remember.
Then, still singing out loud, Ellen turned quickly around to reach for something on the kitchen counter top and caught sight of the man. She was so startled that her song was cut off mid-note and she dropped the cloth she had been swinging around.
"Ahh!"
She lost her balance and nearly fell over, but caught herself and, when she realized who was standing in the doorway, blushed furiously.
"Oh," she stuttered. "Y-You're up. Good! Um…"
She glanced over at the bacon that was sizzling in the frying pan, then back at the man.
"Would you like some breakfast?"
The man couldn't seem to think of what to say, so Ellen came over to him and took his arm, guiding him into a seat at the table.
"Just sit here for a moment, okay?"
Then she rushed back to the stove and pushed some bacon off onto a plate. When the toast popped, she reached over, balancing on one leg to grab the two pieces and threw them onto the plate with the bacon, then brought the plate over and set it before the blonde man.
"The eggs will be ready in a little bit," she told him with a smile.
He had been watching her this whole time, but only now, with her face much closer, could he see the thin but dark circles under her eyes.
He only got a glance of her face, though, before she turned away and opened the refrigerator, grabbing out a couple eggs. She bustled around the kitchen, grabbing what she would need.
"How would you like your eggs?" she asked him, not looking back. When she got no answer, she turned and asked, "Is scrambled okay?"
It took a second to register, but the blonde man nodded.
"Good," she smiled, turning back to the kitchen. "'Cause I'm not good at anything else!"
"Then why did you offer?"
This was the first she had heard him speak, and it startled her out of her search for a whisk and bowl. She turned back around and looked at him in surprise, then smiled.
"Well, you're my guest," she said. "I thought it would be polite to offer."
"Good morning—!" Stephanie began as she walked into the room, stretching. She stopped when she saw who was in the kitchen.
"Ellen, what are you doing still up? You should be in bed!"
Ellen blushed and turned back to the stove. "I was making breakfast," she mumbled.
It was then that Stephanie noticed the other person in the room.
"Oh, hello," she said. "How are you feeling this morning?"
The blonde man just looked at her.
She blushed and rubbed the back of her neck nervously.
"Not much of a talker, are we?" she said as she sat down opposite him at the table. She looked at the plate in front of him, still steaming.
"If you don't eat that quick, it'll get cold," she told him. "Shame, after all the trouble Ellen went through to make it for you."
"Oh, no," Ellen protested. "It wasn't that much trouble…"
"Of course it was," Stephanie told her. "You've been up since yesterday! You must be exhausted!"
The blonde man frowned at this.
"It's okay," Ellen said. "I get my sleep during the day."
"Which is what you should be doing now," Stephanie reminded her, getting up and taking the pan and spatula from her friend. "You go to bed, and I'll finish up here, okay?"
There wasn't much Ellen could do, so she didn't protest.
"Okay," she said. "I'll see you later."
"G'night, Ellen," Stephanie said pleasantly.
"You mean good morning," Ellen said, indicating the morning light in the window above the kitchen sink. Stephanie laughed.
"Just go to your room!" she scolded her. Ellen laughed in response and left.
"That girl," Stephanie laughed. "She never knows when to quit. She has to be told."
She finished up with the eggs and shoveled some onto the man's plate, then put the rest onto a second one, which she brought to the table for herself.
"Could you pass the salt?" she asked the man.
He hesitated, still a little overwhelmed by this girl's straightforwardness, in comparison with the other's timidity, but he picked up the little white shaker and handed it to her.
"Thanks," she said, then shook some salt into her hand. When she felt she had enough, she scraped it off in little sprinkles onto her eggs. She stopped when she noticed that the man was staring at this process, unmoving.
"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Never see someone use salt before?"
"Not with that method," he replied. "No."
She didn't bother concealing her victorious smile at getting him to talk. They usually commented on her unusual table manners. She finished scraping the salt off and dusted her hands, then picked up her fork.
"So, you got a name?" she asked, putting some egg in her mouth and staring at him unblinkingly.
"Fa—"
He stopped himself. That name was long behind him, and yet it still rolled off his tongue so easily. He wondered when that habit would be broken; it had lasted much longer than all of his others.
"Ewan," he said, looking down at his plate and picking up a piece of toast. Just as he was about to put it in his mouth, a hand was thrust out under his nose. He looked up into the girl's smiling face.
"I'm Stephanie!" she said. "But you can call me Steph!"
He took her hand, expecting her to shake it with the same vigor her demeanor implied, but he got a sort, firm shake instead.
"Nice to meet you!" she said, then went back to her breakfast.
There was a brief silence before Ewan said, "And that other girl's name was Ellen?"
Stephanie looked up in surprise.
An observant one. That's refreshing.
"Eleanor, actually," she said. "But we call her Ellen."
Ewan nodded. "And the other one?"
Stephanie's smile widened.
"That's my puppy!"
Ewan's eyebrow shot up, his face donning a disgruntled look. Stephanie laughed.
"His name's Nathan," she added happily. "And he's my puppy. He's at work right now."
"Ah," Ewansaid, then bit into his toast, looking out the kitchen window with a thoughtful look on his face.
For a little while, there was silence, until Stephanie had finished her eggs, then took her plate to the kitchen and rinsed it off, blocking Ewan's view of the window and cutting into his thoughts. He watched her for a little while, then decided to voice the question that had been bothering him ever since he had woken up in that room. No—since Nathan had first approached him.
"Why?"
Stephanie turned off the water at the sink and turned around.
"What?"
"Why?" Ewan repeated. "Why are you doing this?"
Stephanie held still for a moment, as if considering how to answer him, then picked up a towel and began drying her plate and utensils. It wasn't until she had safely stored the plate in its proper cupboard that she turned back to Ewan, still drying her hands with the towel.
"Well," she said. "I've got to hand it to you; you're a lot quicker than most to jump to that question."
She sat down and put the towel on the table, then looked Ewan straight in the eye.
"It's a long story—you really want to know?"
Ewan looked away thoughtfully for a moment, then turned back to Stephanie.
"I've got nowhere to go," he said tonelessly.
Stephanie shrugged as if seeing the sense in this, then settled herself onto her chair and cleared her throat.
"It all began with Ellen," she told him. "Her parents died about four years ago, leaving her with a substantial amount of cash. She was their only daughter, so she got the lot of it. She was a good girl, though, and didn't really want to live an overly-luxurious life, as the money would have allowed, so she just kept it in a savings account for a while, untouched. She had a nice job anyway; working late hours at the hospital got her a pretty penny. She thought she wouldn't ever need the money, and considered giving it to the church."
"Ellen is religious?" Ewan interrupted.
"Kind of," Stephanie said, making a face. "I guess you could say that we all are, in a sense. But none of us follow the usual regime; going to church on Sundays and Holidays, praying regularly; we don't really do any of that."
"So what do you do?" Ewan prompted.
Stephanie grinned at him, as if this is exactly what she had wanted him to ask.
"This!" She threw her arms out and gestured around the room.
Ewan looked confused, and she laughed.
"We call ourselves the Order of the Merced," Stephanie explained. "It pretty much started right after Ellen's folks died. They believed in going to church and everything, but once Ellen took her job, it was impossible to get up early enough to attend, so she just kind of prayed on her own. When I met her, that's what she was doing. I wasn't the religious type, but I knew what she was doing was kind of weird and I asked her about it. She told me that she couldn't go to church, so she found her own ways of acting on the will of God. She told me that she just used what time she had to do her best, to help people as she could, and to spread the word of God."
Here, Stephanie paused and pulled her hand away from her arm, where she had been subconsciously fingering the hem of her sleeve.
"After we'd gotten to talking," she went on, trying to sound as though she hadn't stopped. "She somehow got out of me why I was at the hospital. I really don't know how—she's just got some kind of empathetic gift or something—but when I told her that I didn't really have anyplace to go, she invited me to stay with her. I was kind of reluctant, and had figured on just taking her up on her offer, stealing what I could from her, and splitting, but then I learned what a genuinely good person she is, and I couldn't. We even became friends, eventually.
"A little later, I found another girl who was in the same kind of situation that I had been not too long ago. I felt for her so much that I asked Ellen if she might be able to take the girl in if I were to leave, but Ellen didn't like that idea, so she told me about this fortune her parents had left her when they died, and said that she'd use some of that in order to buy a bigger space for us. We took the girl in, she lived with us for a little while, and then word started getting out about us. Soon we had more people coming in, requesting us by name; we even got donations once—Ellen sent it back, of course."
Stephanie laughed at the memory, shaking her head.
"So, why were you in the hospital?"
Stephanie looked up, a little startled.
"If you don't mind my asking, that is," Ewan added cautiously.
"Oh, not at all," she said. "I'm actually surprised you hadn't noticed yet."
She rolled up her sleeves and put her forearms on the table, exposing deep scars across her wrists and up her arms. Ewan was silent, but his wide eyes spoke for him.
"Ellen saved me from a lot of pain," Stephanie said, no pain left in her voice now. "She's like God's own embodiment of grace and forgiveness. I won't ever be able to repay her for what she's done for me. I don't think anyone we take in will."
She removed her arms from the table and pushed her sleeves back over them.
"I think what sticks with me most is what she told me when I asked her why God hated me so much to put me in the family He did. She told me that she thought God didn't really have any part in it—all he did was give us life. It was up to us what we did with it."
Ewan frowned wonderingly at this theory.
"I guess it's kind of what we base all of this off of," Stephanie went on to say. "That God doesn't really grant us His grace directly, but rather gives us the choice to show this grace ourselves, to our fellows. Ellen is a living example."
Ewan closed his eyes, but knew that there were no tears left for the loss he still felt. He, too, had known such a vassal of grace once a long time ago.
There was a sudden sound of heavy footsteps from the hallway, and both Ewan and Stephanie looked up to see Nathan poke his head into the kitchen.
"Mmmm," he breathed in. "That smells great! What is it?"
Stephanie had already bounced up from her chair and was running around the table towards Nathan.
"Me!" she cried, leaping into his arms.
"Well, hello there, beautiful," he grinned, catching her up and kissing her swiftly. He glanced over at Ewan.
"Ah, been torturing our friend with 'the history'?"
"What?" Stephanie whined, pretending to be insulted. "He asked!"
"Oh, really? And how far did you get before I interrupted?"
"Pretty far, actually," Stephanie admitted. "I just haven't gotten around to the 'here and now' deal."
"You mean how we space our jobs?"
Stephanie nodded sort of dreamily, leaning in to nuzzle his nose.
"Like the one that you're about to be late for?"
"The one I'm—what?" Stephanie quickly looked at her watch and let out a shriek at the sight of the tiny neon numbers. "Oh, shit!"
She jumped out of Nathan's arms, and dashed out into the hall.
"I love you and I'll see you later, bye!" she called out over her shoulder. Ewan and Nathan heard the door slam shut not a couple seconds later.
"My, she can get going when she wants to," Nathan smirked.
"So what is it about your jobs that it seems I need to know?"
Nathan raised an eyebrow at Ewan, wondering at his straightforwardness. But, sensing no intended ill in his words, shrugged and leaned against the wall behind him.
"Nothing, really," he said. "Just that we space them out so that two people are always in the house at any given time."
"To keep any of your 'saved' from a line of thievery?" Ewan asked in the same emotionless tone he had used with Stephanie.
"It's never happened before, if that's what you're wondering," Nathan said. "But it was Steph's idea—better safe than sorry, you know?"
Nathan pushed off from the wall and went into the kitchen.
"You guys make any coffee yet?"
"I'm pretty sure I smelled some earlier," Ewan said.
"Ah!" Nathan grabbed himself a mug and poured some coffee after he'd found the pot. "Want some…what was your name?"
"Ewan," he said.
"Got a last name with that, Ewan?" Nathan asked.
"Remington."
He mentally cursed himself for speaking without thinking like that. It was usually at times like these that he chose to change his name in order to preserve his own identity, but this time it simply rolled off of his tongue, as it had done for the past fifty years.
Who knows? He thought momentarily. Perhaps this is the name I was meant to keep.
Nathan was putting the milk back in the fridge when something unusual caught his eye. He thought he saw a white-haired man standing on the sidewalk across the street from the building, but when he blinked, the man was gone.
Nathan shook his head in an attempt to get rid of the strange image.
Gotta get more sleep, he thought, then took a sip of the coffee. Ugh. Needs more sugar.
Farther into the city stood a block of abandoned derelict buildings, among which stood what looked like an ancient gothic-style cathedral. Many of it's once-glorious stained glass windows were now full of holes, it's beautiful stone streaked from exposure to the unforgiving elements, it's roof collapsed in a couple places. The once-proud structure had at one time been home to many faithful worshippers, but now taking shelter within its walls were souls of the damned.
At the end of the church, where the altar had once stood was now erected a throne of sorts, constructed of what seemed to be a blackened and thorn-covered wood that had simply grown out of the floor. Lain out in a curve of the creation was a lavish red velvet cushion, on which sat a woman with long, wavy magenta hair and lavender eyes. Over her perfectly red lips, the tips of her fangs showed, the edges of her mouth turned up in anticipation of the report to come. At her side, her three followers knelt, eagerly awaiting the news themselves. They had all sensed the presence of the white-haired demon before he entered the cathedral, but all four waited patiently until he had approached the woman and bowed before her.
"Charlotte-sama," he addressed her formally. "I have been observing them as you requested of me. The priest was found, and he is being cared for. Our target, however, is not yet ready for the operation to commence."
Charlotte's mouth twitched, and her fangs grew brighter for an instant.
"We are running short on time, Aion," she told him.
"No one knows that better than I, Charlotte-sama," he told replied, apparently unafraid of her impending wrath, as the three at her side were; their hands were shaking. "But we must give it just a little more time. The Saint has not yet awakened."
At this, Charlotte seemed to become a bit more testy.
"I've told you before," she growled. "Do not use that name. It speaks to highly of the simple vassal we are to use for this rite."
Aion bowed again humbly.
"I apologize," he said, still as coolly composed as though he stood before the mere throne itself, and not the powerful entity that sat before him. "I had forgotten."
"See that you do not forget again."
"Yes, Charlotte-sama."
If either of them heard the snigger that came from the red-haired female at Charlotte's side, neither showed it. Seemingly dismissed, Aion turned to leave, but before he could get halfway to the door, Charlotte called to him.
"Aion."
He stopped, but did not turn.
"Need I remind you why we are doing this?"
He remained silent, but she knew he was listening. This was the only reason he obeyed her as he did. She maintained control over him through his lust for power. He would never forget.
"This is the only way, Aion," she said, her smile revealing fully all four of her gleaming white fangs. "The only way to restore the power that was taken from you when you were defeated by the Saint's Sinner."
Aion sneered unconsciously. He would have liked to forget that day. He would have liked that very much. He left without another word. Silence was left behind him.
"My lady," one of the male demons said after a while. He was the thinner of the two, and his tight, black tank made this quite apparent. "Are you sure he is trustworthy? He is, after all, one of the Sinners."
"The last of them," Charlotte added with an amused smile.
"Yes," the man agreed. "But he and his kind got their title from slaughtering our own. Can we trust him?"
Charlotte laughed; a low, sensuous tone that made the man shiver.
"I trust him about as far as I can throw him," Charlotte answered.
The man knew this expression had a mixed meaning, for he had witnessed how far Charlotte could throw Aion. It had not been pretty for Aion, but the sight had been much enjoyable for the man. He grinned at the memory.
"Never fear, Yen," Charlotte told him. "This demon is mine so long as I hold power before him just out of his reach, but lead him to believe that he can take it from me."
Yen's grin grew into a short laugh.
"You are most clever, my lady."
