This is sort of a transitional chapter between those of more recent events;
the flashbacks are mainly important in routing the changes caused by
Ellone's absence.


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The Hollow Chapter Two
Where the Ocean Meets the Land
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The Lighthouse Orphanage
13 Before Lunar Cry (BLC)
Fifteen Years to the Present
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The waves were riding high that night.

The wind had carried in a swift-winged squall, borne on the backs of roiling,
purple clouds. The sea for a time was divided almost perfectly between open
sky and the gathering storm, until the rain arrived.

Edea Lyn Kramer was standing waist-deep in the sluggish waves-- the sea
had been glassy-smooth not an hour before-- when the sky opened above
her and began to weep. The waves were rising, and the rain was a mere
spattering of cold upon the warm sea. So she stayed. It was a fun game, to
jump the waves, and battle the rising sea for a dubious position in the sand.
The children were safe inside, and so, alone, she reveled in the power of the
sea.

A far-off wind was pushing the waves, driving them into the shore; it caught
her after a jump, the cold, steady breeze cutting straight into her lungs.
Lightning crackled across the sky, and somewhere in the distance thunder
rolled. She had to leap, almost desperately, to clear the next wave's crest,
and lacked the strength to do more than dive through the one after.

She stood, clearing salt water from her eyes with rapid flicks of one hand,
using the other to push back her cascade of ebon hair. The cycle had ended,
and the next wave was easily jumped. She floated a bit, catching her breath,
watching the storm rise in the east. The part of the sky that had not been
overtaken by clouds had turned an odd jade color. The clouds themselves
looked angry, the color of a bruise. It was time to go in.

Sand dragged at her toes, and she sighed, utterly exhausted, as she reached
her clothes. She pulled on her oversized raglan sweater, turning to watch the
downpour chase toward her across the far sea. The waves would be twelve
spans or more within minutes. The sea would dredge up its dead whether she
willed it or not. She rubbed a towel through her long black hair, and started up
the path to the lighthouse, turning her back on the sea.

***

By the time she had washed and changed, it was pouring. The world was a
jade curtain through the streaked-spotty windows. Two of the children were
curled up in one of the beds when she came down, cowering together. The
wind sounded like a howling geezard, and the thunder was making even her
flinch.

"Zell?" She said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Quistis relaxed her hold,
letting the blond boy raise his head. He sniffled, and smiled.

"Matron!" he said happily. She smiled gently in return, still toweling water from
her hair.

"Are you frightened, Zell?" she asked, dropping the towel to cup his cheek in her
hands. He was four, probably, and utterly adorable.

"No!" he said insistently, shaking his head so vigorously that his blond hair puffed
out like chocobo feathers. She smiled again, and smoothed down his hair.

"It's okay to be afraid, Zell," she admonished gently. "Everyone is afraid sometimes.
You just have to make sure that fear doesn't keep you from doing what's right."

"It's okay, Matron," Quistis spoke up, her blue eyes very serious. "I'll look after him
until he grows out of it. I used to be afraid of storms, too."

"That's right," Edea laughed. "I had forgotten. Okay, then. You two stay here until
I finish with dinner."

"Dinner?" Zell asked, struggling from beneath Quistis' hold. "Can we have hotdogs?
Can we?!?!?"

"Alright!" Edea smiled, kneeling down to ruffle Zell's yellow hair. "Hotdogs it is.
Now go wash up," she said, standing. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

The other children perked up at her announcement; Irvine dropped his stash of
building blocks and ran for the washroom. Seifer chased after him, yelling "Me first!
Me first!" Selphie looked up from her sketch pad, threw her pen across the room,
and scrambled to catch up to the boys, hollering wordlessly for no apparent reason.
Edea sighed, and stood to follow.

She was halfway to the kitchen when she heard a sound at the door.

Zell had burrowed back under the blankets, and Quistis was staring wide-eyed at
the whitewashed door. The knock came again. Edea swallowed, knowing exactly
what type of men might be about on a night like this.

Sometimes she wished Cid weren't so fucking noble. She'd rather have him *here*.

"Please!" Came a voice.

She couldn't be sure, but the voice sounded male, and weak. She swallowed again,
and opened the door.

Quistis screamed, and a man fell inside with a gust of rain; Edea fell beneath him,
too startled to make a sound and unable to support his weight. A wash of blood
immediately stained the floor and her blouse.

"Please." He said again, quietly this time, before going utterly still.

"No," Edea whispered, fighting to roll him over and off of her. He was too heavy,
and she was too tired from fighting the waves all afternoon. Finally she tipped
him onto his back with a thump.

Rain was still pouring through the open door; she ignored it for the moment,
dragging him further inside. His blood left a broad streak across the flagstones.
She grimaced, and knelt beside him, checking for the wound that had killed him.

"Matron?"

"Aah!" she screamed, startled, and jumped back. Quistis screamed too, and ran
back to the bed. "Quistis!" Edea gasped, her hand over her heart. "Don't startle
me like that!" She breathed for a moment, watching a contrite Quistis play with
Zell's hair, before turning back to the body.

The man had probably been handsome once, but death had robbed him of all
color, and the rain had soaked him until his mane of hair was a tangled, muddy
mess. His clothes, cheap and familiar but well-made, had been shredded by
what looked like claws, but what had probably been army blades. Through the
tears, she could just make out the edges of a gaping wound . . .

She turned away, hand over her mouth. The man had been disemboweled.

Gutted.

How he'd kept his intestines from spilling into the dirt, she would never learn.

She staggered to the door, staring blindly out into the rain. Oh Hyne, the wind
sounded like a child's cries. She gasped for breath, cringing when a small
hand was slipped into her own.

"What is it, Zell?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"Do you hear that?" he said, very quiet and very serious.

"Hear what, Zell?" she asked, voice tired.

"Sounds like crying."

"It's just the wind, Zell." she said wearily, moving to close the door. Zell was
getting wet. He made a small sound of frustration and tugged her hand, so
unlike his usual displays of pique that she looked down into his bright blue
eyes.

"It sounds like a boy," he insisted. "A boy like me. He sounds afraid."

" . . . Okay," she said slowly, still staring into his eyes. "I'll go outside and
look. Go get back in bed with Quisty, okay?"

"Kay," he grinned easily, reassured by her acceptance, and toddled off.

She cast about the room, avoiding the man's body, until she found her cloak;
she swung it about her shoulders, lit the lantern, and headed for the door.

"Now you two be good," she said. "Quistis, you're in charge."

And she was gone.
***
***
Moments later Seifer returned from the kitchen; he sauntered into the room--
as much as any five-year-old *can* saunter-- and over to the bed.

"Hiding from the rain, Chicken-wuss?" he asked snidely. Quistis glared down
at him, shielding Zell within her small arms.

"Shut up, Seifer! Matron left me in charge, so you'd better do as I say!"

"Or what?" he sneered. "And what do you mean, left you in charge? Where'd
she go?"

"When's dinner?!" Selphie moaned, entering the room. "I'm *starving*!"

"Hush! Matron's gone looking for something," Quistis said sternly.

"What in Hyne's name is *that*?!" Irvine shouted, stumbling into the room.

"Irvine Kinneas! Don't swear!"

"But--" the boy protested, pointing at the body. Seifer and Selphie turned to
look at the corpse, both wrinkling their noses.

"Where did *that* some from?" Seifer asked, brows furrowed petulantly.

"He just came in and fell over," Quistis said reasonably. "I don't know who he
is, and Matron didn't seem to know him either."

"Should we move him?" Irvine asked quietly, chewing on the ragged hem of
his t-shirt.

"He's too big," Quistis said, rolling her eyes. "Matron couldn't even move him."

"I'm hungry," Selphie moaned.

"Matron will come back soon, right?" Irvine asked, dropping the hem of his tee
in order to hug himself.

Then the door was flung open again, rain bursting in upon a breath of wind. The
children shrieked and jumped back. Matron staggered inside.

"Quistis!" she shouted, carefully lowering her burden to the floor. "Get me some
blankets, honey, okay?"

"Kay, Matron," Quistis said, jumping up and running to the hall closet.

"What is it?" Seifer asked, edging closer to the water-soaked bundle. Matron
was tearing at the cloth, and seemed not to hear the green-eyed boy.

"Come on," she muttered, splitting a seam with a ragged ripping sound, like
the cloth had been rotten. A small arm, limp and porcelain-pale, spilled out of
the fabric. Seifer jerked and stepped back, but the arm didn't move. The skin
was almost translucent, the blue veins clearly visible, and covered with chocobo-
bumps.

"Here, Matron," Quistis said proudly, dropping an arm-full of rough woolen
blankets at Matron's feet. She nodded quickly, grimacing as she ripped apart
another tangled bit of cloth.

"Oh!" Seifer breathed as the boy's face was revealed. He looked dead, he
was so pale, but his eyes were moving about beneath their lids, and his lips
were blue, and trembling with cold. His chocolate-colored hair was plastered
to his skull, and his cheekbones looked sharp enough to slice through the skin.

"He's beautiful."

Matron didn't hear him, busy ripping another seam; the cloth split open like
butterfly wings, baring a thin, pale chest. The boy wore a chain around his neck,
hung with a man's ring and a sharp-edged pendant that had cut into his fair skin.
Blood streaked the moon-pale flesh, and had dried to a gummy black crust on
the pendant. Matron tsked, moving the chain aside gently.

"Help me with him, Seifer," Edea said, gathering the bared body into her arms.
The small limbs flopped about helplessly, and Seifer bit his lip sadly for a moment.
"Spread out that blanket," she directed, gently chafing the boy's back as Seifer
followed her instructions. "And Quistis, for Hyne's sake, close the door before we
all catch our deaths."

"Yes, Matron," Quistis called, skipping over to the door. Oh how she loved to be
helpful.

"Irvine, sweetheart, do you think you can get me some water?" Edea said,
wishing she dared ask the four-year-old to heat it for her as she examined the
shallow cuts. "In the bucket, okay?"

"Kay, Matron," Irvine said quietly, still very pale as he edged out of the room,
refusing to look at the man's body.

"Seifer, go and help him carry it. Quistis, I need some rags, can you find some
for me?"

"Rags?"

"Clean ones, okay? From the closet."

"I'll find some!" Quistis smiled, bustling off cheerily. Zell lay forgotten, burrowed
as he was in the bed, and Selphie sat miserably by the door to the kitchen,
rocking back and forth and holding her stomach.

"Okay, sweetheart," Edea murmured, gathering the naked boy into her arms
again. "We're going to get you clean, and warm, and then you'll be just fine,
alright?" She kept up her low-voiced reassurance, more for the other children
than for this wounded boy; he was beyond hearing, for now.

She wrapped him in a blanket, gently chafing his fragile limbs; the pendant and
ring clanked tinnily, and she reached to unfasten them with an annoyed scowl.
Her fingers, wet and aching from her time in the storm, were fumbling numbly
with the clasp when the boy woke.

He stirred weakly, eyes slitting open to reveal a half-moon of color; his mouth
opened, closed, and one arm raised itself above the blanket. She smiled, a bit
startled, but nonetheless prepared with her usual, calming routine. Her fingers
stirred on the chain--

--and the boy *screamed*. She jerked back, eyes going wide, and he stilled.
His eyes rolled a bit in their sockets, still showing little more than a sliver of
cloudy blue, and his hand fell back to his side.

"Sweetheart?" She whispered, smoothing a hand across his damp brow. But
he didn't move again, and she was hesitant to touch the chain-- even as an
experiment.

Irvine and Seifer returned with the water not long after, and she cleaned the boy
around the pendant and ring. The boy didn't stir again that night, not even when
Zell climbed into bed with him. She left the two of them there, curled securely
against the night, as she went to drag the body outside.

Well, she'd been right about one thing. This storm had certainly dredged up the
dead.
***

A/N This was originally to be the prologue, but it just didn't read right without the
Squall-Kitten scene tacked onto the end. ::sigh:: Confession time: I actually
have over fifty pages of material for this. It's just in a terrible jumble is all, so
posting will slow as editing becomes more difficult. Reviews would help, of
course. ;)