Author's Notes: Characters belong to Squaresoft, not me. Inspired by the lyrics to Celes' opera song, "Aria di Mezzo Caraterre." Props to my friend Amy-chan for helping to conceive part of the idea that led to this fic. Feedback welcomed at lassarina_angharad_aoibhell@hotmail.com.

~*~Chapter Five~*~

~*~Like Night Into Day~*~

"Celes!" Cyan caught her as she folded to the ground. He gently laid her on the cool grass, bending over her with concern. Sabin was there too, looking worried as he towered over the Doman warrior and the former Imperial general.

"She's fainted," Terra said softly, kneeling next to her friend and laying a hand on Celes' forehead. "I knew this was a bad idea."

"She insisted," Edgar reminded her, his tone not unsympathetic.

"I know." Terra sighed. "I think we'd best take her somewhere else. She shouldn't stay here. It'll be too hard on her. There are too many memories here....It would be cruel."

Cyan nodded. He knew all about memories. "But where can we take her? There are memories for her in so many places."

"She didn't go with us to Doma," Sabin offered helplessly. "It's probably the only place she didn't go while we fought Kefka."

Cyan nodded. "I would be happy to have her in Doma. She won't have as many memories there....and perhaps I could help her." It was odd, really....the first time he had seen Celes, he'd wanted to kill her for what she had done to the helpless folk in Maranda, and for what the Empire had done to Doma. But as their struggle against Kefka wore on, he had finally seen her for what she was: a woman of integrity and strength, never afraid to fight for what she believed in or for the people she loved. Did Locke cause that change in her, or was she that way all along, under the Imperial training? he wondered.

Terra studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I think perhaps that would be best, Cyan," she agreed. "Sabin, will you help me carry her to the airship?"

"Help?" Sabin looked like he would have laughed if it hadn't been such a sad occasion. "I'll do all the carrying, Terra." He picked Celes up and looked at the casket. A suspicious brightness gathered in his eyes before he turned away.

Terra started to lead the way back to the airship, seemingly unaware of the tears that glittered in her own eyes. Cyan had to blink back a few tears of his own. No matter that he had often disagreed with the irreverent young treasure hunter. Locke had guarded Cyan's back more times than the Doman cared to count, and had proven a trustworthy comrade.

Sabin carried Celes into the airship and laid her on the couch. Her eyelids fluttered open, showing the sapphire eyes that were now dark with sorrow and pain. Terra knelt by the couch. Celes looked around her. "This isn't Kohlingen," she said in a voice hoarse and uneven with unshed tears.

"No. We're going to Doma for a while," Terra said, trying to make her voice cheerful and brisk. Cyan stared at her. The tears running down the Esper girl's face thoroughly impaired her efforts to put on a brave front.

"I...." Confusion swirled through her eyes. "I want to stay in Kohlingen. I have to be here when Locke comes back."

Cyan winced and traded looks with Sabin. The burly martial artist shrugged helplessly. "Celes, thou art tired and confused," Cyan began. "After a good night's sleep, things will seem much....clearer." It was the best he could come up with.

Sabin offered him a mildly appalled look for his trite babble. Celes turned her face to the wall. Looking helpless, Terra rose and stepped away from their friend. Cyan seated himself at a blackjack table and waited out the flight, hoping the abominable mechanical thing wouldn't crash.

~*~

Rebuilding a castle was bloody hard work, but at the very least it exhausted her. Celes heaved another granite block onto the parapet of the East Tower and swore when one of her short nails broke. Blood trickled down her finger. She ignored it. Compared to the pain in her heart, that was less than nothing.

More mortar. Another stone. She forced herself to focus on the monotonous task, aligning the edges of the stones with obsessive precision. Everything was in the details. If she occupied her mind with inconsequential matters like placing stones in as near-perfect alignment as she could, she didn't have to think about Locke.

Blood dripped onto the stone she was setting. She wiped the stone with a rag and dragged her hand across her black work pants to blot the crimson rivulets. Rock dust grated on the wound. She ignored it and went back to spreading mortar with the care of a master baker icing a cake.

"Ooooh! You hurt!" Slender tanned fingers wrapped around her wrist.

"Not now, Gau." Cyan had done a marvelous job teaching the wild boy proper speech, but he often forgot to employ what he'd learned when he was upset or concerned.

"Celes? 'Tis nearly sunset."

She gritted her teeth and ignored Cyan. The physical effort of rebuilding hadn't drained her enough. She wouldn't stop until it did. "I'm not done."

"Thou art bleeding." Cyan turned her hand palm up to inspect the damage. His lean swordsman's fingers were stronger than Gau's, and she couldn't break his grip. Cyan narrowed his eyes at the gash across her index finger. "'Tis time to go in, Celes," he said quietly.

She couldn't go in now. She'd be up all night weeping. The pain of memories was worse by far than the ache of strained muscles and torn skin. "I'm fine."

Cyan sighed and bowed his head. "Celes....thou cannot heal if thou wilt not face what hurts thee. I know."

Celes leapt on his words like a starving alley cat on a plate of scraps. It was all the opening she needed to press the argument they'd been having for two months. "Then let me go back to Kohlingen."

He sighed again, sorrow deepening the lines in his face. But he hadn't told her no. She pressed her advantage. "I'm no use to you, Cyan. You've got master builders here who can do this--" She waved her trowel at the half-built parapet--"much better than I. And it's not as though Doma needs another warrior."

The expression that crossed his face was unlike any she had ever seen him wear. With a mild shock, she realized it was one of defeat. "One of Setzer's Airship Runners is here with messages from Figaro," he said, referring to the courier service the gambler had created after Kefka's fall. "I shall prevail upon him to take thee back with him."

"Thank you." She set down the trowel and wiped stone dust and blood from her injured hands on her pants. "I'd better pack."

Cyan muttered something under his breath and followed her down the stairs.

~*~

She barely heard the click of the latch as the door swung shut behind her. The cottage looked no different. She wondered why she'd expected it to.

Because he's not here. The answer hovered in her mind. It was true. Everything about the cottage was the same, except for the terrible echoing loneliness that surrounded her.

The dying rays of the setting sun framed everything in a blood-red glow. She dropped her bag in the front hall and walked unsteadily toward the bedroom.

Three pairs of stout boots littered the floor--one pair was hers, the other two his. A pearl choker trailed out of the jewel box on the dresser. She picked up the necklace, running her fingertips over the smooth gems. A gold-and-ruby pendant of a phoenix hung from the center of it. She had to exert the strongest self-control to keep her hands from clenching on the jewelry and breaking the fragile silk cords on which the pearls were strung. Carefully she placed it back in the jewel box and turned to the bed with slow, reluctant steps.

Her blue robe lay casually tossed across the rumpled covers. A battered leather jacket and swordbelt with two dirks also adorned the bed. But the object that drew her attention was the dark blue silk bandanna that hung half off the bed, on the verge of slipping to the floor.

Until now, she had been able to keep the realization of his death at a distance because she hadn't really thought about him being gone. The pain of knowing it, intellectually, was crippling enough. She had shied away from truly believing it in her heart. But that bandanna, the same one she had found wrapped around a pigeon on the Solitary Island almost two years ago....Now, it was real.

She didn't remember sinking to the floor, or starting to cry. Huge, racking sobs shook her slender frame. She clenched her hands into fists and pressed them against her stomach, trying to hold in the tears, and failed. Hours passed and she didn't realize it. There was only her grief, beating relentlessly against her defenses until everything crumbled.

When the tears finally faded, nausea set in. She couldn't stop shaking and she was sure she was going to be sick. The room spun dizzily around her and she slowly, cautiously lay down and curled on her side. The wood floor was cool against her hot face. Gradually the room stopped revolving.

Exhausted from the emotional storm, she fell asleep.

A sound or maybe a shifting shadow woke her. She blinked slowly and sat up. The first pale rose streaks of dawn had appeared in the eastern sky. Her whole body ached, a combination of her exertions yesterday and her nap on a hard wooden floor.

She had run here to wall herself off in memories, using them as a shield against her loss. Now she remembered what Cyan had said to her before she left. "Thou cannot heal if thou wilt not face what hurts thee." "You're right, Cyan," she said softly aloud. "You were right."

A floorboard in the hall creaked. She spun toward the door, immediately tense and alert. A sound like a shoe being dragged along the floor was followed by a heavy footstep and another creaking board. Edging into the shadows, she looked out into the hallway, braced to defend herself.

A man of perhaps average height, dressed in ragged black trousers and a battered black jacket, stood with his right hand braced on the hall table, his head bowed. He wore a black hat and appeared to be favouring his left leg. She coldly noted that he held his ribs with his left hand. These were weaknesses she could use against him in a fight.

She gripped the hilt of her sword and took a deep breath, then stepped into the hall. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?"

Slowly he looked up, gray eyes meeting hers. "Celes?"

She stared in silence, unable to believe the sight in front of her. A thick scar ran the length of his jaw, stopping just under his ear. His nose was crooked, as though it had been broken and healed badly. And if she was any judge of injuries, his left knee was probably damaged beyond repair.

But it was him.

She dropped her sword and ran to him, flinging her arms around his neck and holding tight. He carefully wrapped his left arm around her and squeezed. "Locke....you came back."