Disclaimer: Obviously, I own none of this. Please don't sue me.

Chapter Two: A New Home

On the outside, Kit pretended everything was fine. As she watched her brothers pack her belongings into various boxes, she acted as if it was perfectly normal to rush away from the life she knew immediately following the murder of her parents.

Jacques had changes dramatically during the night. He became much more loving and patient; it was somewhat uncanny to Kit. When the packing began, Jacques advised that they "Pack only the essentials," and Kit didn't need to ask why. After all, what would be the purpose of bringing furniture if their new home was a hotel?

She sat miserably on the steps watching taxi cab after cab come to her beloved home, load a few boxes and drive away into the night. According to her brothers, a moving van was "too conspicuous."

"Really, and a caravan of taxis isn't?" Kit demanded, but she received no answer.

Lemony kneeled and placed his hands lovingly on his sister's shoulders. "Kitten, sometimes what we do… won't make a whole lot of sense. You just have to trust Jacques and me, and I know that's going to be tough. We're doing everything we can to keep you safe, I promise."

Kit nodded and watched Jacques carry a box labeled "family photos."

"We don't keep pictures." She looked right into her brother's eyes. "What's in there?"

Lemony shuddered. It was, frankly, unnerving how cold and terrifying his young sister could be. It shouldn't be like this, he thought. She should be happy. She should have a family, a whole family.

"Like I said, this is one of those times when you just have to trust us," and he went to help Jacques.

Kit sulked up to her bedroom. Upon first glance, everything seemed normal. Her bed was still there. The open window blew her curtains in a sort of dance. The bedside lamp glowed. It looked happy, whole.

But it wasn't. Like her, it only looked complete on the surface.

In reality, the drawers were empty, like her heart. Her closet was dark barren, like her eyes. The curtains swirled helplessly in whichever direction the wind dictated, like her body.

Unwilling to cry, Kit moved over to her bed and began to fold the blankets. She ran her fingers along the embroidery; this was the quilt her mother made for her first Christmas. Some of the stitches were uneven, and the top squares held more stuffing than the bottom. Sometimes, her mother changed thread colors mid-pattern.

To Kit, it was perfect.

It was made with love, and it smelled like Mom. That was all she needed.

On the bottom row on the third square, a tiny tear separate the layers of cloth. It was too small to notice, unless someone was intentionally looking for it. But it was just big enough for two tiny fingers to hide a small, folded family portrait inside. Kit reached and took out the picture, looking at her parents' smiling faces.

They were at the beach, all five of them. The picture was years old, and Kit didn't even remember the trip. That didn't matter.

There they were.

Kit's vision blurred and she tasted salt on her lips. Angrily, she wiped away the tears.

"I miss you," she confided. "I miss you so much."

"We all do," said a voice behind her.

Kit jumped around, embarrassed to be seen in such an emotional state. "Hi, Beatrice," she greeted as she folded the picture back into its hiding place.

Beatrice took a step closer to Kit. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kit shrugged. "Not really," she replied.

Beatrice sighed and sat down next to Kit. "You know, it's alright to feel upset and angry and everything else. It just means you loved them."

"I know, but I don't know if they did."

"Sweetie, of course your parents knew you loved them. Why would you say that?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm not thinking straight." She took a deep breath. "I'm so scarred."

"Why?"

Kit looked solemnly at Beatrice. "Because whoever killed them is going to come back, and this time they'll come after me and my brothers."

"What in the world would make you say that?"

"I'm young, not oblivious. My family is clearly involved in… something. I don't understand all of it, but I know I'm not safe, not now, not ever."

Beatrice paused. "That's a lot to worry about for someone your age," she said as she wrapped her arms around Kit.

Surprisingly, Kit leaned against her friend and closed her eyes. Beatrice ran her fingers through the child's hair until she finally fell asleep. She gently laid her down and covered her with the quilt.

"Goodnight," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her own eyes began to water.

"Beatrice?" Lemony called from down the hall.

She quickly leveled her voice. "I'm in Kit's room," she quietly answered, and she heard footsteps approaching.

"Are you alright?" Lemony asked.

"Yes, of course, I'm fine," she responded without taking her eyes off Kit. "I just think this is too much for her to handle."

"You're underestimating her. Kit's strong; she's a fighter," he laughed softly. "Hell, I never want to face the wraith of a fully determined Kit."

"You know that's not what I mean. She's so young, too young for all of this."

Lemony walked forward and held her hand. "You know this isn't what I want for her, for any of us."

"Yes, I know," she whispered. "But I wish there was something I could do to keep her safe. She's like my little sister."

"She is my little sister, and I swear that I'm doing everything in my power to protect her."

"I know," she whispered again. She closed her eyes tightly and felt a tear fall, then another. "I just don't want to lose you."

He guided her face toward his and looked at her in the eyes. "I'm right here," he reassured as he brushed away a tear and held her hand tighter.

This time she smiled. "I know," and she kissed him tenderly. "I love you."

He smiled back. "I love you, too."