This chapter feels like a whole lot of effort to not get very far...why did it take so long to write? Dunno why, but I also had trouble getting the site to upload it. Oh well, it's more to help transition to the next chapter.

Anyway, CHRISTMAS. I've been trying to decide what to do for my loyal readers this year! I will be accepting requests again, like I did last year. Same concept of "It's not part of the main Fairy Tales story line, but it's related." Not something AU, or that contradicts the already established story, or that I just can't see the characters doing. But if it's not one of the first two, I will do my best to make it work in a way that the third isn't a problem.

Besides just opening the floor to requests again, I was thinking about having another contest that would last until New Years. Because I'm just all shameless in wanting to see people write stories for me for a change. But a contest must have a reward, and I couldn't think of anything! The story is at a point where I don't think I can work in a cameo appearance again, at least not one on the level of LLOYD and Allie. *Sigh* Well, if anyone has good ideas for a prize, maybe we'll try to hold one anyway?

Aj70t:

Glad you enjoyed~ Though don't be so certain about which fairy is responsible for what just yet. In the end, all of them are hiding a little something extra up their sleeves.

Angelic:

When has Nevi ever not been a jerkass bastard? He's just a bigger jerkass now than he let on before. The "ten times happier" thing from the omake is before Letha had to put up with all that other crap from him. Oh, how much she'd love to punch him now! Happy Dayz aren't quite here for her yet.

And Alastor. Heeeh, you're right about him being a smartass that poor Chase has to deal with. Him not rising up to make a good comeback about his hypothetical relationships is a bit of a nod to Shiroi Iyasu's character Ange. Because I (not so) secretly think that's a hilarious and adorable ship. But it's still intentionally vague there, since Ange is a bit AU to FTaBV's continuity.

x x x

Chapter 56: Wavering Feelings

x x x

There is nothing more healing to the human body than sleep. Well, in Terca Lumireis, gels and blastia with healing formulas go a long way, but even they couldn't replicate the same benefits of a deep sleep.

Though my rest wasn't as peaceful as could've been hoped. It was full of feverish dreams, replaying a constant loop of memories in my head.

-Lily had the inn set me up in a room and provide extra towels and hot water. She cleaned away all the blood, my own and the darker blood of the dogs, slapping away my hand when I tried to do it myself-

-biting my bottom lip to keep from whimpering as I cleaned the cuts in my hands, trying not to make noise that would wake the inn owner, the maid, or Raven, or even the knight if he was still around. When the wounds from stupidly grabbing Cumore's sword (should've let him and the dog kill each other...run the other way) were clean I ate two apple gels to close the wounds and finally stop the pain-

-to set my broken arm Lily cut the sleeve of the uniform open, making me wince as I protested that I still had to return it. I shut up pretty fast when she straightened my arm to line up the bones again-

-Raven and Judith pulling the yellow spine from my shoulder, and apart from the pain all I could think of was 'why didn't it just go through?' Curse Nevys for being decidedly unhelpful even when he does try to help (or is he even trying?)-

-stripped off the rest of the borrowed uniform, discovering the other bites, bruises, and scratches she'd missed during her initial inspection and diagnosis. She clicked her tongue at the deep teeth marks in my right shoulder, made by a larger mouth than the ones marking my calf and ankle. The bruises and scratches, mostly picked up by my trip up and down the Evil Christmas Tree, were laughable in comparison-

-I was glaring down through tree branches at the group of Red-eyes surrounding the base of my tree, too close for me to escape from between them but not so close that I could get away by climbing across a branch over their heads to get by them. And then Gibbs ordered two of them to climb up and drag me down out of the tree, but before they could do more than grab at my feet a red fletched arrow (those arrows...Alastor's?) took one through the neck-

-red seeped through in tiny spots on the white bandages that dressed my varied injuries, a splint and sling immobilizing my arm-

-taking his arm in mine as my sidestep brought me up beside him and facing the same direction. One step forward and moving his arm to guide him, I used the Blood Alliance member's attack against him by using his own momentum to launch him over the rail. Turning to face my other opponent, the man who would be the first human I'd kill, (what? I don't want-) and my blood ran cold knowing-

-pressed something cold against my upper left arm and firmly said, "First Aid," and finally, finally! the constant aching throb coming from it receded. My caretaker whispered another First Aid over the slowly reknitting bones and flesh, moving on to my neck, the worst of the bites, my ribcage-

-the small child asleep with his head resting against my chest. The wolves didn't even bother to approach us with stealth, seeing us as prey that just hadn't realized it was dead yet. Gently I shifted the boy from my lap, and murmured reassuring words (cursing Ragou's memory, rot his bones) when he woke up-

-a gentle hand, cool against my skin, brushing away the hair sticking to my sweaty forehead-

-glass was cool against my temple, watching the headlights of cars approaching from the opposite direction and zip past us. The scenery rolling by out the window was stark black and eerie white as the light dusting of snow glowed in the starlight.

The van pulled over to the side of the road, I didn't recognize the area after we'd been driving wherever for the past hour. Looking around, I saw no buildings or parking lots or any sign of people, not even other traffic on the road.

Everyone was getting out of the car, someone talking about hot chocolate in a thermos. "Why did we stop here?" I asked.

"The leonids are tonight," a mature woman's voice (You're...who?) explained to me.

"The what?"

"Look up." (Who are you?)

I was outside the car, obediently craning my neck back to look up at the sky. What a marvel! The velvet dark night sky with hundreds, thousands of stars crisp and clear. And every inch was streaked with shooting stars carving bright lines. No matter where you looked, you could easily see dozens, and each that fell was replaced by another almost before its light faded.

It was awe inspiring, leaving a profound ache deep inside my heart, and I would never forget it.

"How very touching," an insincere voice drawled.

"Who was that?" I looked around, realizing that the others (familiar others...who were they?) were gone, along with the van. "Hello?"

"How easily you forget." The voice was at my side, but when I turned no one was there. "I should say I'm pleased to an extent, but otherwise it makes your troublesome tendencies all the more...troublesome."

"I know you..." I realized slowly, my thoughts whirling back through the dream fragments (dreams, they were dreams) back to my present, and hissed when I recognized the voice, "Nevys."

"So the tool does recall its master." Even spinning around in circles, moving as fast as I could, I just couldn't find him. Instead, the snow melted away, steaming upwards, until I was surrounded by a gray fog that blocked out the stars. "Good. I'd hate to think I'd done my work too well."

I swallowed. "So you are behind my memory loss. Like Verte said." Giving it up as a lost cause, I stopped trying to visually locate him and stood still. Not to mention, I no longer wanted to risk looking behind me. It was enough that I could feel a warm breeze from that direction and hear the faint susurrus of waves on a shore. "And now, apparently, you're riding around in my head and watching my dreams. Why?"

Fog began twisting on itself, becoming denser. Wary, remembering the last time that had happened in one of these "dreams," I began backpedaling away. The fog achieved solid mass, shape, pigmentation... "Because..." Nevys stood in front of me, striking an imperious pose with arms crossed over his chest. His spread open wings painted a shocking splash of orange and black in the fog. "You are my tool, and I will use you up completely."

"'Use me up' you say," I mirrored his posture, folding my arms over each other and standing with feet set apart confrontationally. Though a nagging memory of seeing a specialist on tv give an interview on body language whispered in the back of my head that my actions could also speak silently of insecurity. I shook the thought from my head and brought my focus back to the matter at hand. "I'll take that as tacit admission that you tried to have me killed."

He smirked, so smug it felt almost poisonous. "Does your wild allegation have any proof to support it?"

"But the dogs!" I practically shouted, "The fairy dogs that attacked me! They were yours-!"

"And the proof?" he reiterated.

With doubt introducing itself to my angered convictions, the strength behind my half of the argument began crumbling. "Ve-Verte said..."

"'Verte said'," he repeated mockingly. "And you trust her words so implicitly, on the basis of such a short acquaintance?" His purple eyes narrowed. "The dogs you speak of could very well have been her own, or those of Alastor."

"That could be..." I grudgingly gave him the point, "But that doesn't mean they couldn't be yours!"

"You grasp at frayed threads, tool," he warned, not in the least impressed. "And with each strand you pull, my patience swiftly unravels."

I was treading on thin ice, as he'd so poetically informed me, but that didn't make either of our points less true. Nevys could be responsible for the dogs' attack, or he may not be. But in either case I'd already been wronged by him on multiple levels. I decided to take a little chance. "Yuri saw you," I lied, embellishing on the truth. "When you were talking with Ludwig in Nordopolica. About killing me."

The fairy man stared at me for a heartbeat, lines in his forehead becoming more defined as his frown deepened. Then his wings stirred the fog in the air as he semi jumped, semi flew the short distance between us. One hand grabbed a fistful of my hair at the roots, yanking my head to the side and back as he glared down at me. Down. Somehow, in the last five seconds, he'd gained a foot and then some in height.

"Does it amuse you to insult my intelligence?" he snarled, eyes flashing violet, "Or have you truly deluded yourself into believing I'd fall for your transparent trap of words?" I was a bit too preoccupied with trying to pry away his fingers from my scalp to really even think of asking 'what the hell?' about either the random growth spurt or mood swing. Mood swing wasn't that much of a surprise, really, and his new height advantage probably had something to do with using the malleability of dreams to try and force a sense of dominance over me. Or just his ego slipping through.

Nevys leaned down and hissed into my ear, "A consummate liar and tale teller you may be, but it is child's play to see through you. If your 'friend' Lowell had seen such a thing, you would have come to me with your griping and caterwauling long before, or have continued to keep the knowledge to yourself. A secret piece of knowledge to use as your trump at the time you would stand to profit most. Hnph," warm breath from his scornful laugh tickled my ear, "You know nothing, and bluff in the hopes of learning something."

Drawing in a shaky breath, I did my best to glare back at him from the corner of my eye. "I've been to Nordopolica twice, which you and your tracking system tattoo would know. Once weeks ago, and then just yesterday. By saying 'long since' you confirmed that the meeting with Ludwig was during that first time. Your words wouldn't make sense otherwise." I paused for a moment, call it dramatic effect or just giving him time to catch my meaning, I don't care which. "How would you know when that meeting happened, unless you were there?"

Nevys flung me away from him, as if touching me had burned him. I stumbled back, catching my balance before I fell. Or before I took a tumble through space, as I realized there was only air behind my heel. Again, I stood on a cliff with a sunset behind me, warm light playing on the bank of fog I yet faced. And Nevys, at the head of the fog, sneered at me. A strange smile twisted his mouth, not at all with pleasure or humor but with...a bitter sense of satisfaction? I wasn't sure what to make of it.

"A mind, it has," he spoke condescendingly, "when it chooses to use it. If only it were not hellbent on playing with the distractions along the way..." He passed a hand over his face, smoothing a few stray strands of his pale blond hair back into place. "Enough of these petty games and evasions. While I could denounce your latest accusation as the groping of the blind through the dark, the prospect of perpetuating this tires me."

He turned on his heel and started walking away into the fog, his black dress shoes clacking with each step. "Verte may have confused your trail for you, but we both know that you yet dance in the palm of my hand. Run and hide if it pleases you, but everything you do, in living or in dying, will still serve me foremost of all." And the last sign of him, the vivid orange of his wings, was swallowed up by gray fog.

x x x

A low groaning rumble in my ears greeted me as I woke up. Groggy and confused, I lay still in bed (I was in a bed?) trying to label the sound I was hearing. A low sound, almost deep enough to be felt in my diaphragm, that rumbled and rolled on and on like a hill of boulders suddenly knocked loose. And underlaying it was a constant hiss, like sand slipping through a massive hourglass to count away the minutes. It was when an instant of light flashed, making me see dull red behind my yet closed eye lids, that I recognized it all for a thunder storm.

Lily's ministrations hadn't completely patched me up. The bodhi blastia she had used to heal me was a reject, it's formula too weak for any of the knights or nobles to consider it of much use. Somewhere along the way it had ended up in the possession of the lower quarter, and the people kept it as a community secret. With it Lily had been appointed something along the lines of the neighborhood's all purpose doctor.

My arm was no longer broken, but the ghost of the pain it had suffered still lingered. She'd told me to keep it in its sling a little longer, as a precaution, and not to engage in any strenuous activities that would put strain on either my arm or ribs. Nothing had been done about the fever, as far as my knowledge went, I'd been nearly out of it by the end of the treatments. The slightly damp cloth on my forehead suggested a more traditional method of care taken.

I rubbed my right hand across my eyes, then slid it up to wind the fingers through my tangled hair so that my palm rested on my forehead. The pressure as well as the cool touch on my skin felt good, calling to mind a similar sensation from earlier. Lily did the same. It felt...really nice. Reassuring. Lifting my hand up again, I stared at my own fingers, a pale shape in the dark. I suppose my mother must have done the same, once upon a time...

...What did I dream? For some reason, all I can remember was the confrontation with Nevi-Nevys, I need to take him more seriously now- and bits of memories from since I met him. But there was something about stars?

I let my hand drop again, resting on top of my closed eyes. Not the important issue right now, other than that it seems to be yet more proof that Nevys is rewiring my brain or something. He denied that the dogs were his, but didn't give a great argument to disprove it. Didn't seem to really try that hard to either. If anything, I'd say he got worked up more because Verte was interfering and I wasn't being a good little mind slave.

Sitting up, wrapping my good arm around myself, I felt a shiver roll down my spine. But if he has control over my memories, what else could he be doing in my head? Erasing my memories...changing my name...could he even change the way I think? A wash of fear crested in me, God, could he rebuild me into someone else entirely? Someone who knows and thinks only what he approves?

But then what will happen to me?

The constant shushing fall of rain and wind calmed slightly without dying completely. In the comparative quiet it became possible to hear a muffled snuffling somewhere nearby. Eager for the distraction, I looked around the darkened room while trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Not really comfortable with ignoring strange sounds in an unfamiliar environment, I slipped out from under the thin sheets and blanket of my bed.

Shivering when my bare feet touched the wood floor, I glanced down at myself to see I was wearing only a simple cotton shift, once probably white but now a faded gray, that left my legs bare from the knees down. Chilly. Someone had taken away my daggers and bodhi blastia hair clip, making me feel more vulnerable than I cared for. But if it made them more comfortable with leaving me alone...I doubted anything too dangerous for me to handle would get in here. I still had my hands, and could, I dunno, hit someone on the head with a lamp or anything else lying around if I needed to.

Padding on quiet feet across the room, floorboards creaking slightly under my weight, I reached the door and stood with head cocked, listening. The sound was in the hallway outside, not directly in front of my door (thank God, don't need some weird "Here's Johnny!" scene). Though rather than some deranged lunatic with an ax, it sounded more like a child was crying.

Opening the door a crack, I looked out. The set up of the inn reminded of some motels or apartment buildings back on Earth, where every individual room's front door is on a single open landing. And for this inn the doors were on the side farthest from the main street, all facing a nice little courtyard. Nice? Not nice, it was raining and the overhang above the landing had some leaky spots.

But besides observing that the rain was soaking the wood of the landing up to about a foot in front of my room, I saw a little girl in a pink nightgown, hair pulled up in two pig tails on the sides of her head, sitting with her back against one of the other doors. She was sniffling with her face buried in her arms, folded across her knees.

Intentionally allowing the door to squeak on its hinges as I opened it wider, shifting my weight on my feet so that the floor accompanied it with a groaning creak for good measure, I stepped out into the hall. The girl's head shot up, and she made a noise somewhere between a hiccup and a squeak when she saw me. She clutched a rag doll with floppy ears that she'd been holding even tighter, hiding her face behind its disproportionately large head.

"D-don' eat me, p-pwease!" she begged. "I'm sowwy I was a bad girl!"*

"What?" I'd been about to ask her what was wrong, and there we go, adding cannibal to the list of things people thought of me. The people in the lower quarter aren't on that bad of terms with the knights, are they?

"T-Teddie says dat ghosts c-come ouwt, dey come ouwt and eat bad girls dat get ouwduv bed at night!" she sobbed. "B-but da thundur and lightenin' was scawy!" I tried not to frown or anything while deciphering the childish enunciation in order to figure out what the heck she was saying. Little kids always sound as if they're talking around a mouthful of gum. And once I did catch up with her, I couldn't help a wondering shake of my head. I'm a cannibal ghost now.

But I decided I couldn't blame her. I looked a right mess, my hair a dark and snarled tangle that needed to be washed, skin paler than normal from the blood loss earlier, and the shapeless formerly white night shirt/dress would be spooky to see on the dark even if the weather was more favorable.

I knelt down in seiza on the floor, hoping that putting myself on her level would make me less frightening. "Don't worry, I'm not the type of ghost that eats little girls."

A big, watery eye peeped out from behind a floppy ear. "Yew don' eat dem?" There was another flash of lightning, making her flinch and hide her face again.

"Nope," I answered cheerfully. "Not a ghost at all, actually." The thunder from the last lightning bolt boomed and she whimpered. I scooted over until I sat next to her, tucking my nightshirt in around my legs. Holding up my good hand, I offered it for her examination. "See? You can't touch a ghost, but I'm solid."

For awhile, it seemed like she was going to just keep hiding behind her doll. There was another flash, outlining her trembling little figure, before her round eyes rose up above the doll's head again. Her small hand reached out until her fingers poked at my palm. "Id's cold," she informed me, with all the seriousness of a child making a profound observation.

"Yeah," I agreed, "Nights like this are for sleeping in bed. So what are you doing out here?"

"Mama's sick," she sniffled, nose sounding a bit stuffed up, "Miss Lilly says Mama's con-tay-juice, and Teddie's Mama, she made me a bed hewre. An' I'm s'ppossed to stay, to stay until Mama's feewin' bettuh." A moment to translate that in my head while another crash of thunder sent her cowering behind her toy guardian again. "But it's scawy, an' lowd, an' Mama's not hewre to make it bettuh!"

I nodded, then levered myself up until I was standing again (not as easy to do as I would have liked). "Come on, sweetie," I leaned down and offered my hand to her, "Let's get you back to bed, where the bad ghosts won't come for you." Her small hand squeezed mine tightly, and she timidly led me down the hallway to a third room. I wondered in passing who's room she'd been sitting in front of.

Tucking her back into bed, I tried to keep up a soothing but happy demeanor. "There, this is better, isn't it? Not cold or wet, and these blankets will keep the ghosts away. Feeling better?"

"Mmm," she nodded, pulling the blankets up to her nose. But then there was more thunder, and with a little "eek!" she pulled the blankets over her head. I sighed, and patted the mound of blankets where her head should be.

"What does your mother usually do when there's a storm?" I asked. Really, what worked with little kids that wouldn't sleep? I couldn't remember any personal experiences to draw from, if I had any similar to begin with.

"Mama sings me to sweep." The bundle of child and blanket shifted. "Will yew sing fo me?"

...Ah. Well, that's an easy solution, I suppose. I don't even know how long it would take her to get to sleep if I were to tell her a bedtime story. "I guess I could," I felt my cheeks heating up, "Though I'm sorry it won't be the same as when your mother sings for you, but at least I know a few lullabies." I found a chair and pulled it up by her bedside so I could sit down, patting her on the head again as I did so.

Then, feeling a touch grateful that she was still hiding under her blankets so I wouldn't end up feeling quite so self conscious, I began humming the intro of what I personally considered the most calming lullaby I'd ever heard. The melody was short and very repetitive, but that served to give it a hypnotic effect that was meant to promote sleep.

Keeping my voice soft, barely audible over the rain, I shifted from humming the tune to vocalizing it. The song I knew had no words, only a sweet, motherly voice singing in soothing sounds. It was a spontaneous whim that had me weave words into the melody.

"Close your eyes,
Close your eyes,
Sleep until the dawn
Rain and wind shall pass
Thunder will calm

"Go to sleep,
Go to sleep,
Day will come again
Sleep and dream of dancing
In the morning Sun"

I kept it up in that vein for awhile, occasionally switching from improvised lyrics to wordless crooning. Not sure how long it would take, or how long I had even been singing for, I slowly lifted up the edge of the blanket and folded it back. A cherubic face was revealed, cheek pressed against the doll (not a rag doll like I'd thought, but a rabbit like plush toy that had been worn threadbare by years of unconditional love) and a small thumb stuck in her mouth. She looked relaxed and peaceful, her breathing deep and even.

Standing up, I stretched my muscles as far as I dared, making a face at the twinges in my mended bones. Tiptoeing out of the room, I glanced back only once when I reached the door to make sure the girl hadn't woken up again. She slept on blissfully.

Quickly crossing down the hall, not wanting to linger outside in the rain heavy breeze any longer than necessary, I was forced to hesitate momentarily while I tried to figure out which was mine. Fortunately, mine was the only one still open ajar. It was the second down from the outdoor stairway to the ground floor. The door the girl had been sitting at was the one right next to the stairs. ...Isn't that Yuri's room? Huh. Wonder if he's the "go to" guy for all the impressionable little kids around here.

A slackness came to my face. Not my business to pry. Don't I know more than my fair share already? Remembering the incredulous expressions of Yuri and Flynn in Nordopolica, and how Yuri's had become one of fear and suspicion... I may not have told them my full secret yet, not in so many words, but that had probably been the true moment of revelation. And, whatever may come later, in that moment I had been rejected.

Loosing a resigned sigh, I slipped back into my own room. But I still promised to explain... I suppose I'll still have to, if I can meet up with them again. And if Chase hadn't already covered that lesson as the substitute teacher, though I'd probably have to go over it myself either way before they'd be satisfied. Hmph, hope they rake him over the coals with their talk. I still don't want to forgive him...even if I can understand a little...

The specifics of the conflict between the fairies and the purpose of the heirloom they were squabbling over may have been largely a mystery to me, but it was certain that Chase was neck deep in all of it. Regardless of how much he told the others, he'd still have plenty to answer for once I got ahold of him. Like how Verte fits into this mess now. I'm getting the vibe that she and Nevys represent the conflicting sides.

Crawling back into my own bed, I curled up on my side and stared at the wall. Alastor, and apparently this Sybelle, don't seem as...forward, in their methods. What have they done, really, besides follow me around and get on my nerves? Nothing but steal my wallet. The mess in Ragou's place was as much my fault as anyone else's. But if their goal is the same as Verte's, why didn't they make a more decisive move like she did? Or...are they up to something else?

I watched as the occasional flash lit up the room, casting a silhouette of my reposed form on the otherwise blank wall like a black and white picture. What do I do now? I'm terrified of what Nevys is doing to me, I don't trust Verte's intentions for me, and I don't understand what Chase and his group are planning. I don't have enough reliable information to figure out what's going on with all of them...or am I just making excuses now? If I knew the reasons behind their actions, I wouldn't be able to just go with the flow anymore. I'd have to decide my own course for once, and choose one side over the other.

...Sorry Yuri, guys, I think I've been lying to all of us, including myself, this whole time. The truth is, I don't even know what I want anymore.

x x x

When next I woke it was light out. The door to my room opened, triggering ingrained habits that roused me enough to crack my eyes open and peer muzzily at the intruder.

A passingly familiar older woman stood in the doorway. She invaded my personal space without a second thought, coming in and shucking me from the bedding I'd burrowed into. Clucking disapproval at my bedraggled appearance she gathered me up in her momentum and shooed me out of the room. Brain still half asleep, I felt like I'd left it behind on my pillow as I was herded down to the other end of the building in only my nightclothes.

The human whirlwind of a woman had me in a bathing room and full tub of hot water before you could say "mortified," and then bustled off again leaving the "promise" (threat?) that she'd be back. I was left to soak and wonder what had just happened. It seemed wise, though, to wash up quick. If she came back before I was finished, I wouldn't put it past her to scrub me down herself.

It was while I was in the bath that I made another discovery of unsettling implications. My left hand, the one marked with Nevys' tattoo, had picked up another mark. His mark had seemed like an abstraction of either a butterfly or a four petaled flower, its lines spread across the entire back of my hand to my wrist and shifting through a spectrum of the dark colors. But now the colors had become flat black, and green lines with stylized leaves erupted from a single point on my wrist to twine through the black mark and around my wrist itself, like I'd been tattooed with a bracelet.

The color and vine motif gave a pretty good clue who was responsible. It also, perhaps, explained what Nevys had been going on about when he claimed that Verte had done something to cover my trail. Did that mean he wouldn't be able to send more dogs after me? But we were still connected, the dream proved that much. Groaning, I dunked my head under the water. If I get out of this, I don't ever want to get caught up in the faes' power struggles again. With that despondent resolution in mind, I grabbed the soap and started working up a lather to get the rest of the clotted blood and dried sweat out of my hair.

I finished just in time too, having just rinsed off and started to gingerly towel myself when the hurricane innkeeper returned (yeah, by that time I'd woken up enough to remember she was the owner that Lily had talked to the night before. If her name had been given, I'd forgotten it already). This time her arms were full of neatly folded clothes. "If they're a mite big on you, I won't be surprised," she said while shaking out what proved to be a light blue (color only slightly washed out) dress and holding it up below my chin to judge approximate fit. "Nothing a belt and a few pins in the right spots won't fix. Now, Miss Owie, do you need any help getting dressed?"

"No, I can manage, but-" I blinked, mind belatedly registering something, "I'm sorry, what did you call me?"

The woman's smile made about five years fall away from her appearance. "Little Lia's been calling you that all morning. Although, she's actually saying 'Owia,' or some such, but the older children say that's close enough." Apparently already impatient with my progress in getting dressed (I'd only just taken the clothes from her, hoping she'd step out and give me some privacy...), she took back the white blouse I'd been provided and held it up for me to put my arms through. "Most likely what she's trying to say is 'Aria,' or that's what the rest of us think."

"Aria?" I repeated, further baffled by this explanation. "Miss Owie" would almost make sense, in a sad, sad way given my state on arrival, but "Aria?" Isn't that for opera? But...I blushed as I realized I could probably guess who "little Lia" was, and how she might have started associating musical terminology with me.

"Yes," the woman finished buttoning up the blouse and then began helping me get the dress on over my head. I hadn't accounted for how raising my left arm up too high would hurt. "Catherine, she's Lia's mother, you know, she always did have a fascination with the finer things. The things that only the nobles have the time and money to enjoy." Her animated chattering led me to guess that the woman was a lover of gossip, and would probably keep talking for as long as someone was around to listen. "Lia's been growing up on all the bits of song and theater her ma tells her about, and takes to it like a spark to fire. Like mother, like daughter!"

"Mmhmm," I inserted, guessing that was all the input I was expected to give. Just enough to make it sound like I cared. The clothes really were too big, the blouse's collar, sleeves, and cuffs all hanging looser than intended. The neckline of the dress was probably lower than on its original owner too. A belt did serve to gather the excess material at the waist in, but having the long skirt swishing around my ankles gave me the feeling that I'd trip over it anytime. "Er, not to be rude, but I wouldn't have minded if you had some men's clothes to spare..."

She brought out a needle and thread from...somewhere. "Beggars can't be choosers, especially not when they're getting handouts from humble folk in parts like these," she said jovially enough, though I kicked myself. Mega duh. Turning around meekly at her gesture, I stood still as she adjusted the straps of the dress, shortening them so that it didn't hang quite so low. "Now then, all cleaned and dressed. All that's left is to get some good warm food in you, and then there's a pair who'll be wanting to have a friendly talk."

"Really?" I shifted the belt, trying to get the folds of cloth trapped under it to lie a bit more comfortably. I missed the accustomed weight of weapons strapped around my hips. "Who would want to talk to me?"

"Well, Hanks and Nolan had some questions they wanted to ask you, and Lily may drop by to knock their heads together." At my look of confusion, she clarified, "Hanks is the old fossil who can actually gets things done around here, and Nolan is more protective than a father meeting his only daughter's boyfriend." Well, I already knew who Hanks was, not that she'd know, but now I could guess that the other guy at the fountain was Nolan. "Now get a move on, Miss Aria, or Lily will be having words with me about letting one of her patients turn to skin and bones!"

I was tucked away in a corner table down in the inn's main room. Becca, the innkeeper and mother of Ted, wouldn't serve me any solid foods (Lily's orders) but gave me plenty of porridge and milk. Yup, milk. I let little soundbites of a raging Edward Elric refusing to drink his milk play in my head in order to ignore the fact that all of the tables closest to me were conspicuously avoided. But even if all the other patrons avoided me like a leper, their eyes kept glancing in my direction as they all whispered to each other over their late breakfasts and early lunches.

Until one person was brash enough to greet the outsider who'd come in knight's clothing. At my elbow stood a boy around Karol's age (probably a year or two younger?), with tousled brown hair, a striped shirt, and a shy brown pigtail poking out from behind his back. He genially stuck out a hand, "My name's Ted, you might remember me from yesterday."

Bemused, I shook his hand in return, internally trying to reconcile the adult mannerisms with the childish appearance. "Pleased to meet you properly," I politely said, though I left out my own half of the introduction.

He waited until it was clear that I didn't plan to share my name, and then turned so I could see the little pigtail girl hiding behind him, one hand fisted in the back of his shirt. "This is Ophelia, though everyone just calls her Lia. Mum and I watch her for her mum sometimes, but she wakes us up every time she can't sleep." Here he rubbed the back of his head a bit sheepishly, looking a bit more his age, "I tried making up a story about ghosts last time to make her stop, but that didn't work out so well."

"But Yewi said it was twoo!" the little girl objected a bit angrily. I choked slightly trying not to laugh out loud.

"Anyway," Ted doggedly continued after he managed to calm down the indignant Ophelia, "I just wanted to say thanks for looking after her last night, Miss Aria."

"Don't mention it," I was quick to say, "Just, could you call me something else?"

"Oh," his eyes widened innocently, "Certainly, Miss Owie."

"Aria will be fine..."

Not long after that Hanks and a man in overalls, who I assumed must have been Nolan, arrived. Nolan was average height, had a square cut jaw and slightly crooked nose, and was fairly well muscled with little excess flab other than the suggestion of what could one day be a beer belly at his stomach. His hair was cut short, nearly to the scalp, so that his head looked covered in dark bristles. Most of it was hidden under a bandanna stained past the point of telling its original color. I had the impression that he was a man given to manual labor for the better part of the day, and to a good strong drink in a bar during his hours off.

Ted had been called away by his mother to help out in the kitchen, and I'd been watching her bursting in and out of the doors all over. It was a bit like a cartoon when the character takes one door and seconds later comes out another on the other side of the hallway. And Becca always had a load of something she was carrying, be it laundry to be washed, laundry to be folded, or dishes she had just cleared away. Prime case of a woman aging before her time because there weren't enough hours in the day for all the work to be done.

It was when a chair scraped across the floor that I realized the two men had joined me. "You're certainly looking better," Hanks started off. "Yesterday you looked closer to the grave than I am!"

"I wouldn't say that doesn't still hold true," I quipped wryly, "Seeing how my luck's been running out on me in the worst ways lately." That got a chuckle out of the elderly man, but Nolan scowled.

"And just what are you going to do if your bad luck follows you here?" he demanded. "Folk here have enough to worry about just getting by without outside trouble."

Hanks was unappreciative of his companion's bald accusation. "Now, Nolan, there's no call for that."

"No call my ass," the younger man scoffed, "this one has all the signs of a troublemaker on the run."

"It's alright," I assured Hanks, "I perfectly understand. In fact," I leaned forward on the table and stared Nolan in the eye, "I can tell you this right now. I doubt my trouble will follow me here, but if it does? I'll smack it across the room myself and leave with it."

The man met and held my stare with his own flinty glare for a slow moving minute. Then one side of his mouth rose up in a grin. "I'll hold you to that," he promised.

"Well, now that we all understand each other," Hanks diffused the remaining tension, "care to tell us who you are and what you're doing here, young lady?"

Falling back against my chair again, I sighed at the return of the basic matters of interest. I don't think I've given anyone a satisfactory answer to those questions yet. "If I knew my name, I'd tell you. Right now it doesn't much matter to me what anyone calls me, but it seems I've been named 'Aria' for the duration." Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the nearby tables suddenly had occupants that hadn't been there five minutes before, several covering their mouths with their hands to stifle sniggers. Seemed the compulsion to eavesdrop was stronger than small town (in a manner of speaking) wariness.

"As for why I'm here, well, not much reason other than to make sure my arm didn't fall off." I shrugged my right shoulder. "So...I guess right now I'm just waiting for someone I know..." I trailed off at the end. My feasible options were limited, either I could find work and earn a paycheck to support myself with, or I could wait for Verte to come back like she'd said she would. Or for Nevys to beat her to it. And really, they all amounted to the same unless the first choice resulted in a sudden windfall that could be used to supply and run off before either fairy came. "...For someone I know to come pick me up."

Hanks cleared his throat with a "harrumph!" before folding his hands on the table and giving me a stern "I will know when you lie" look. "Would that someone happen to be Yuri Lowell?"

Whispers erupted at the other tables, people practically stretching their ears to catch every word. I knew my own expression must have betrayed me, since I foolishly hadn't been expecting that. Therefor, I opted for the most truthful story. "I do know Yuri, yes, and I'm even aware that he grew up here. But we've...taken our separate paths. I don't expect him to be in these parts for awhile anyway."

The room's overall response was disappointed, but Hanks and Nolan nodded. "The boy's doing well, though, right?" Nolan asked.

"Driving the knights up the wall every day," I confirmed with a straight face, "and coincidentally helping out other people each time he's at it."

Nolan smacked a hand on the table with a guffaw, "Same as ever then!"

x x x

Lily did drop by, gave me a quick check up, and then practically threw me through Becca's kitchen door. By her reasoning I was well enough to do simple chores and thereby I should pull my weight by washing dishes for my hostess. I decided it would be better for my continued health if I took her professional "advice."

Ophelia sat on the floor watching me, rabbit-like plush in her lap (whatever creature it was supposed to be was naggingly familiar) and thumb in her mouth. "Miss Owia," she said around her hand, "Sing anudder song?" Plates clattered against each other as I added another to the stack. I looked back over my shoulder while reaching for the next dirty one.

"Maybe later. I don't sing very often." More often than I would admit though.

"But yew were, yew were hummin' eawier." Because the kid had been bored enough to sit on that kitchen floor for the past hour, scooting out of people's ways as if she had a sixth sense to know when someone was about to step on her. And I'm less guarded about my humming than my singing.

"That's different."

"Pwease?" she gave me puppy eyes. Huge, shining, watery puppy eyes. Dammit, kids play dirty. "Whud wewre yew hummin'?"

I sighed, recognizing defeat. "Another lullaby. You wouldn't be able to understand this one," definitely not. Not because it was complicated, but because it was Swedish. Or Polish. I kept forgetting which. "Hmm, it'd be a hack job, but I can try and translate it."

"Byssan lull, koka kittelen full,
där kommer tre vandringsmän på vägen..."

I sang through the first verse, more to remind myself of what it was about. It wasn't a language I was familiar with, but I could remember approximately what each line meant. I followed up by singing the same verse in English, not exact but as close as I could remember while getting it to fit with the melody.

"Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
three wanderers are coming.
Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
three wanderers are coming.
The first has a limp
The second one is blind
The third has such tattered clothing"

Pleased, I worked my way through the rest of the song in the same manner. All the while I steadily worked with my forearms in the soapy water, baggy sleeves rolled up past my elbows.

"Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
three stars are shining in the sky.
Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
three stars are shining in the sky.
The first one is white
The second one is red
The third is the bright yellow moon.

"Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
three winds are blowing on the seas.
Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
three winds are blowing on the seas.
From o'er the great ocean
And the little Skagerrak,
And up from the gulf of Bothnia.

"Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
three ships are sailing in the harbor.
Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
three ships are sailing in the harbor.
The first one is a barque
The second is a brig
The third has such tattered sails.

"Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
in the chest there are three treasures.
Byssan lull, boil the kettle full,
in the chest there are three treasures.
The first one is our truth
The second is our hope
The third is the red passion of love."

"Sing anudder! Anudder song!" Ophelia squealed, but I snapped my head to the common room door suspiciously. I thought I heard it... Shaking my head, I looked back down at Lia. She'd migrated across the floor in order to hug my leg and give me another taste of the puppy eyes.

"Nope," I declined, prepared this time for the little beggar and her pout, "Don't want to lose my voice. Why don't you go find Teddie Bear?" The nickname was, admittedly, too easy and childish. But that's what the cheeky brat got for the "Miss Owie" thing.

"Okay," she mumbled dejectedly. Leaving was a whole theatric production of getting up off the floor and brushing her dress off, scooping up her toy to finally flounce out the door. How childhood dramatized even the smallest slight...

Alone in the kitchen, the lunch rush over and the dinner rush some time off, I was finally able to finish washing all the dishes. Jeez, it felt like they'd set up a conveyor belt to keep bringing me new ones to wash for awhile there. With a rag I mopped up the counter top, cleaning the sudsy spills and swiping off bits and crumbs into my other hand to throw out. Tired as I was of dish washing, being even a little productive made me feel better than just sitting in my room, waiting until I was back in top health and form.

The rest of that day at the inn was spent on more chores and errands. At one point I asked Becca if I could borrow a sewing needle and some blue thread to try and mend the uniform I'd borrowed from Sarah, and she very happily gave me what I needed. Along with a basket full of clothes she hadn't yet found the time to fix up. Not eager to sit alone in my room, I set myself up at my corner table again with the basket next to my chair.

At first, I was treated to more of that "island in a sea of solitude" phenomenon while the tables around me were avoided, but curiosity won out in the end. A few daring souls would take the other seats at my table and ask me for news of the world outside Zaphias. The empire didn't always see fit to keep its people updated on current events.

Leaving out my own role in everything, I chatted about whatever came to mind. Halure's barrier failing, the people being protected by Flynn's brigade (and a number of people began pridefully boasting about how they'd always had known their Flynn would do well) and the barrier getting fixed again. About Ragou's corruption in Capua Nor, and how a joint effort between Flynn and Yuri (twice as much pride) uncovered his shady hobbies and the crazy weather blastia in basement, but had to ruefully admit the magistrate hadn't been punished at the time. And in the process the two lower quarter men had found and rescued the throne candidate Ioder. (Maybe I shouldn't have shared that last part? Oh well, too late.)

I told them about the trouble in Dahngrest when Leviathan's Claw had sabotaged the barrier, about Flynn almost inadvertantly starting a war with a forged letter but preventing it from getting too far out of hand by recovering the real one. The part about Phaeroh attacking I glossed over, only vaguely saying that a huge monster had, for reasons unknown, attacked the city. And that the Heracles had been used to chase it off.

Flynn had been the champion in the Nordopolica coliseum; I only told them that was a rumor that may or may not be true. I left out the news about the blockade in the Weasand...and the fact that Ragou and Cumore were respectively dead and "missing." I didn't mention anything at all about the fiasco with both the knights and the Hunting Blades attacking and killing Belius. It wasn't just because I wanted to distance myself from those unwelcome memories, but I didn't have the heart to give these people the details about the failings of their local heroes. Revealing those parts would have made it obvious that I couldn't have known so much unless I'd been there in person.

But no one seemed to notice any of the inconsistencies that were still present in my stories. All the talk about Yuri and Flynn had loosened their tongues and brightened their tempers, so that they in turn began regaling me with stories about those two's youth. I felt like I was going to die from laughter when I heard that, not only did Yuri have a crush on a woman fourteen years older than him when he was younger, but that just happened to be Lily.

Until she scared the crap out of him (and most other young men with their eyes on her) by punching out a patient that refused to stay in bed and then healing those new wounds along with the old ones. And, one sly eyed old man told me, that patient had actually been Nolan. Which was why he rarely ever won an argument against her, though he never stopped trying.

It felt a bit...uncomfortable, hearing all these anecdotes. About how Flynn had fallen into the river, how he and Yuri would be practically joined at the hip some days and then refused to talk to each other for entire weeks, how everyone would know when they'd made up when they'd start wrestling each other in the streets (Flynn always won, though some of those victories were debatable, being the result of luck and happenstance), about them sharing a sword and trying to teach themselves to fight... I felt like I didn't have the right to know all that stuff, on top of all the other information I'd brought with me from Earth. From knowing the game. If Yuri knew that I was learning all this stuff about him from the people who'd been there to see it, maybe it wouldn't bother me. But he didn't, and I did feel bothered.

Sighing, I looked out the window of my room, down to the branch of the river flowing by the street outside. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?" I murmured. "It doesn't really matter, does it? Embarrassing childhood stories...aren't on the same level as the secrets I already know." But there was no helping my nosediving feelings. If only I...if only I could start over again, or something. I've gone and made a mess out of my life, and don't see what path can bring me out of it again...

x x x

"Lullaby For You" by Tron Syversen (little hard to find, here's a link to one of the few youtube videos I can find with it: www .youtube .com/watch? v=btKCz2VmCTE&feature ), words came from the top of my head.

"Byssan Lull" is a Swedish folksong, its currently popular lyrics are attributed to Evert Taube. There are some variations from version to version (like the last line in the first verse being about a man who can't speak, instead of one with tattered clothing). I apologize to people who understand the language and can tell where I got something wrong or purposefully tweaked it a bit. The version I favor (and hear Letha singing to in my head, though I only included her singing her English version) is by Peter LeMarc. www .youtube .com/watch?v =5CgVjI-LiiY&feature

*Translation for little Ophelia's childspeak:

"Don't eat me please! I'm sorry I was a bad girl!"
"Teddie says that ghosts come out, they come out and eat bad girls that get out of bed at night!"
"But the thunder and lightning was scary!"
"You don't eat them?"
"It's cold."
"Mama's sick. Miss Lilly says Mama's contagious, and Teddie's Mama, she made me a bed here. And I'm supposed to stay, to stay until Mama's feeling better."
"But it's scary, and loud, and Mama's not here to make it better!"
"Mama sings me to sleep. Will you sing for me?"
"But Yuri said it was true!"
"Miss Aria? Sing another song?"
"But you were, you were humming earlier."
"What were you humming?"
"Sing another! Another song!"