A/N: This chapter is probably one of the more dramatically altered. Originally, it was a bunch of Bella/Stella funfriendshipfluffiness. As adorable as the fluff was, it had to be cut back to make room for something new, an actual plot! Three years from the story's start I have learned how to write something with plot. Hopefully anyway. I left some of the fluff intact because it enforces an important part of Gargoyle biology and allows the reader (I hope) to get to know some of the characters a little better. But I get it out of the way very quickly.
On that note: The plot thickens!
…
Bella did try her best to be brave. It was difficult at first; she spent the beginning and end of those first nights in tears. But each evening, she wept a little less, and finally not at all. Stella was no Gabriel, but she did know lots of fun things; like how to make cookies and sew dollies and play hide and seek in the maze of bookshelves that covered the first three floors, and two hidden sublevels of the library.
Stella would be waiting in the secret passageway every evening when Bella awoke. They would cook breakfast together; or sometimes dinner. Bella was not picky about the order of her meals. Then they would settle down in the study, the gargoyle with a toy or a book and Stella with the night's work. Stella would tell her stories, or play word games while she filled out reports; or the two would talk. More often than prudence should have allowed, Stella would find herself abandoning her papers in favor of games of chase or tickle fights or to spend extra time brushing Bella's silvery hair.
"Stella, what is the sun like?" The little Gargoyle asked one night after they had settled down for the evening.
"Well," she hesitated. How did one describe the sun? Stella realized that she had never tried before. She had never known anyone who had never experienced the daytime before. Even the blind knew at least what the sun felt like. But Bella turned to stone during the day, always the moment before the sun rose above the horizon.
"Well, it's big and slivery, the color of your hair, only brighter." She grasped for a description. "Imagine the light of a thousand lanterns, together in one globe."
"Wouldn't that hurt your eyes?"
"Only if you stare at it for too long." Stella said, "But you can look away. It's…like the moon I suppose, but so much brighter. And during the day, you can see everything much more clearly. Colors are richer, lighter; you can see each detail." Bella had asked what the sun was like, she reminded herself; not just how it looked.
"It is warm; or rather it makes the air warm. Or, even when the air is cold, you feel warm because of all of the light. Does that make any sense?"
"I think so." Bella cocked her head to the side, clearly mulling things over. "I've always wondered, but" her voice lowered. "I never had anyone to ask."
It was the first time Bella had spoken of life before the massacre. Stella had come to know the signs that came before one of Bella's sad, silent spells. She stood, setting aside her work and scooped the Gargoyle up in her arms. She was so marvelously light. Stella supposed that she would have to be in order to glide on her thin wings. Bella wrapped those wings and her arms around Stella and rested her head on the processor's shoulder.
"Hush, little beautiful." She waited for sobs, but was relieved when Bella only yawned and nestled her head into the crook of Stella's neck. "It's almost sunrise, is it not?" Bella nodded. "We should get you to your hiding place."
Stella had done her best to make the passageway homey. She hung quilts to cover the dank stone walls. There was a plain metal bed in the corner—the secret room had been intended for hiding agents and people who had clamed sanctuary from the Order. It was Spartan, but Bella did not seem to mind. Stella supposed that it might remind her of home. Gargoyles were known to live in caves.
Bella yawned again as Stella set her down. She stretched and bared her teeth, attempting a battle pose.
"Do I look like a warrior?" she asked, trying to keep her mouth in a ridged snarl and speak at the same time.
"You're frightening me, you're so fierce looking!" Stella teased. Bella's scowl dissolved into a proud grin, and froze that way as the sun set outside.
"Buona notte, Bella." Stella said, closing the passageway. "Or rather, buona mattina,' good morning."
Stella was exhausted, but she hours of work ahead of her before she could even think about resting. She was beginning to envy Bella, who slipped into stone sleep whether she wanted to or not. She did not have to stay up until all hours running errands for pompous clergymen. No sooner had Stella picked up her pen did she hear the back doorbell ring.
"'There is no rest for the wicked'." Stella grumbled, gazing skyward. "Did I do something to deserve this? I'm coming!" she shouted when the bell rang again. God forbid it occur to someone that she might be sleeping at four in the morning.
But her complaints faded when she opened the door, replaced by fear and alarm. She knew her visitor's face, had seen it in the Order's files.
"I'm lookin` fer the Processor." He said without introduction. His accent confirmed Stella's fears.
"I am she. How can I be of service, Signore Canmore?"
"A woman? Things must be a damned sight worse here than I've heard."
"We manage." she said coolly. Stella positioned herself so that she blocked the door. She found herself studying Canmore with a hateful fascination. Since coming to Rome, Stella had seen murderers, monsters, and madmen. Stella knew Canmore to be the first of the three traits, and a moment's observation told her that it was not likely the only one.
"I'm sure. I need to see some documents."
"Do you have clearance?"
Canmore's expression darkened.
"My family has always been allowed access to the Order's records."
"Times have changed, Mister Canmore. Security has been increased since the attacks last winter."
"I don't see any security. I see a frail spinster woman blocking my way." he growled, eyeing her bare left hand. Canmore drew himself up to his full height and leaned forward. Though Stella was not short by any means, the Scottish knight towered over her. "I see you don't know who yur dealing with, spinster lass. I'm thinking I may have to teach you better."
"I know exactly who I am dealing with, Mr. Canmore." She emphasized the address. "You may be the son of kings at home, but here, you are just another agent, If you have a request, you can take it up with the Cardinal."
"I may just do that." he said threateningly. He turned his back on her and headed out of the alleyway. "Mark my words, spinster, I will have those records."
Stella realized suddenly that she had been clutching the doorframe for support. Despite her brave words, she was terrified. She closed the door and bolted all of the locks. Leaning against the wall, she suddenly felt exhausted. What ever work she had planned on doing would have to wait. She doubted that her hand would stop shaking enough to allow her to grip a pen. No, the Council of Faiths could wait another a little longer. Stella could do nothing more that day but curl up in bed and sleep like a stone.