Chapter Text
Terra sank into the loveseat by the fireplace with a sigh. She drew the afghan that was laid across its tired upholstery down around her shoulders. A hot sip of cinnamint tea warmed her from within. She blinked heavily against hypnotic flames dancing in the hearth.
Each night in the orphanage, the oldest kids helped bathe and put the younger ones to bed. Then Terra read them the next chapter in the Highwind Chronicles and ushered them to bed too. Leaving herself at peace for as long as she could stay awake. Her personal record was an hour.
Terra grinned as a memory of Mog’s interpretive fire dance flickered in her vision. Had it been a year since they had brought down Kefka? It felt like she had battled alongside her comrades only a few weeks ago. Their faces shone vividly in her mind throughout these domestic yet no less hectic days. Locke when one of the boys came back with an outlandish tale of adventure in the barn. Strago when she felt thoroughly exasperated by “kids these days.” Celes when the aria birds sang from the balcony of a tree limb. Celes when the girls had sword fights with dragons. Celes when she sat by the fireplace alone with the kids tucked in.
Terra’s head jerked in a sleepy nod. She gripped her teacup tightly in both hands and poured several gulps down to empty it. One night a cup had fallen from her half-dreaming hands and cracked against the wood floor, waking the toddler and then all of the children. She’d rather face Kefka again than repeat that disaster.
Sleep had never been cast so effectively by her enemies than by the eight boys and girls she had taken as her wards. Four of the children were abroad now to learn and train with her former comrades, leaving her with the youngest ones. And the most troublesome one.
A faint knock on wood sounded. A toy dropping to the floor? The fire was swimming before her eyes, and she resolved to drag herself to bed before Morpheus ambushed her in the drawing room again.
An icy breeze and the rustle of heavy clothing startled her awake. For a heartbeat, Terra thought that her troublemaker had snuck in from an after hours jaunt outdoors again. But a taller figure with a fall of long blond hair knelt before her in the firelight.
“Hey,” the visitor said quietly. “I was about to use a Phoenix Down.”
Terra pushed herself up from an awkward slump against the arm rest. “Celes.” Her voice came out more breathless with surprise than she intended. Terra rubbed at the upholstery pattern impressed on her cheek to get her blood and brain flowing again. “What are you doing here?”
Celes flashed her a wry grin. She was still poised on her left knee, her sword arm resting casually atop her right knee. They leaned close enough to speak in hushed tones. Realizing their proximity, Terra’s blood was flowing freely again. Her brain however strolled out the door with a wave goodnight. “It looks like I’m saving you from a level one neck cramp,” Celes answered. “And I brought your supplies.”
The next day Terra would come up with a half dozen more clever things to say. Stifling a yawn by the fading fire she simply said, “It’s late.”
Celes’ cheer faltered and she stood. “Yes. I’m sorry. Go on to bed. I’ll get things put away and see to myself.”
Terra caught her gently by the hand before she stepped away. “Celes, what are you doing here?”
Celes lips pinched in a tight smile, and a matching line creased her forehead. She squeezed Terra’s hand for a second before letting go. “Tomorrow.” Celes turned on her boot and strode quickly to the entry hall.
-
It was midmorning before they had time to pack the supplies away properly. The older three kids almost trampled the back door down in a rush to go sledding. Terra kept the toddler in the corner of her eye as he helped drag a bag of potatoes around the kitchen.
Terra stood in the narrow pantry flopping bags of sugar and flour onto the baking shelf as Celes handed them to her. Terra steeled herself to ask the question she least and most wanted to ask. She hadn’t seen Celes traveling alone since the fall of Kefka’s Tower. “How’s Locke?”
“I don’t know. Fine, probably.” Celes spoke idly, as if they were discussing the weather and not a man she’d grown very close to during the war. “We broke things off a while back. He’s such a wandering spirit, never puts down roots.”
Terra sidled to the deepest part of the pantry and released a sigh. She set the canned beans down with light clinks as they met in tight rows and columns. “He should date Setzer.”
Celes chuckled. “Last I heard, they were getting traded back and forth by that opera singer Maria, but who knows. Maybe they’ll get tired of her games and elope.”
Terra’s eyebrows slowly climbed. The words had been a joke leaving her mouth, but coming back into her ears, it was all too easy to picture. She didn’t know why she hadn’t considered it before. The men could be best friends, at least, if they weren’t always fighting over a woman.
Terra tried to check on the toddler, but the agile length of Celes filled the pantry doorframe. “Is he?”
Celes twisted to glance over her shoulder, drawing her shirt against the long muscles of her arms and back. It’s wide collar revealed fine clavicle bones that met in a subtle divot where Celes’ neck began. “He’s fine.”
Terra gestured to the shelves just inside the door when Celes held up jars of fruit preserves with a questioning look on her face. Terra leaned back, nonchalant. “So you’re not a wandering spirit. What kind of spirit do you think you are?”
“Hmm.” Celes shuffled jars around to arrange them by color. “A build-a-fortress-and-defend-it spirit?”
“How very martial of you, General Chere.”
“They didn’t promote me because I won the battle of Albrook.”
Terra laughed. “Yes, they did.”
“Hearsay.” They smiled at each other for a moment, chores forgotten.
Terra pushed off the well-stocked shelves she was leaning against. “I was there, you know. You saved my life that day. And a lot of others.”
“Yes, well...” Terra slipped passed Celes and out the pantry door. That her breasts brushed across Celes back in the narrow space couldn’t be helped. “All in a day’s work.” Celes cleared her throat and followed Terra into the kitchen. “What kind of spirit do you think you are?”
Terra scooped up the toddler as he worked in vain to open his potato sack. “Despite what you may have seen--“ Terra winked, alluding to her naked, feral Esper form from the war. Celes focussed suddenly on slinging the potatoes into the pantry and closing it, a pink tinge rising in her cheeks. “I think I’m a raise-a-big-family spirit,” Terra finished.
Celes turned back with a half grin. “How very maternal of you, Matron Branford.”
“It’s not the stuff of epic adventures, but I’ve already had one of those.”
-
The grin slipped from Celes’ face as she took in the sight of Terra standing in her kitchen with a little boy tugging on her jade-colored hair. Somehow, Terra winced happily. “You’ve found your home.”
“I’ve made a home, with the help of an octet of rugrats.”
Dodging an unexpected pang of jealousy, Celes slipped out of the kitchen into the refreshing chill of the back porch. She tip-toed around piles of boots and scarves to the last supply crate she had hauled in the night before. Prying it open, she raised her voice to say, “How are the ones away for training doing?”
“Good. We hear from them almost every week in letters.” Terra appeared in the kitchen doorway across the sea of winter gear. “Fang is becoming impossible,” she said softly. “She seemed happy when her sister went to Figaro, but then reality set in or something else happened.” Terra shook her head.
Celes looked up into pale green eyes, wanting with a sudden sharpness to fix any problem Terra confided in her. Like she’d been pricked with a pin in the center of her chest. She’d come here equipped for blizzards and dragons, though. Not teen angst. With nothing better to offer than distraction, Celes waved to the crate and said, “The rest is clothes and bedding.”
Terra nodded. “Right.” She set the toddler down and ushered him to walk across the kitchen. “Up-stairs, Dajh. Up-stairs.”
“Uppa!” He ran suddenly, bare feet slapping on the wooden floor. Terra’s eyes widened and she hustled in pursuit.
Celes hugged as many sweaters and blankets into her arms as she could and lumbered after them. Her load lightened when Terra stole a blanket off the top to cleared her line of sight. Terra shook her head at Celes in silent amusement and rolled the blanket under one arm. Her free hand hovered behind Dajh as he crawled up the steps only a little slower than Celes was moving.
At the top of the steps, Celes dropped her bundle in a heap, and Terra began to separate it into four smaller heaps that Dajh decided should be fifteen one-item heaps. “This isn’t much of a fortress,” Terra said, shuffling things back into groups, “but the orphanage could use some defending against the cold. These upstairs rooms are drafty, and storms rattle the windows. Besides.” She stood up with the first group of clothes. “You owe me for saving my life.”
Celes mouth fell open as the pile was hefted into her arms. “I owe you?”
Terra nodded gravely, though her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I’m afraid so.” She corralled Dajh into his room. “Go play with Moogoo, Dajh. We’ll go back downstairs in a minute.” Closing him safely away from the stairs and his questionable sweater organizing techniques, she led Celes on to the small bedroom at the end of the hall.
“And how am I to vanquish this cruel invader?” Celes said.
Terra folded a blanket to lay across the foot of the twin bed. “I’m told there’s a substance called caulk. I don’t feel inclined to know anything about it, but the neighbor fellow Duane claims he’s an expert. Says he’s used it all over his house with Katarina to warm things up.”
Celes coughed to clear her brain as much as her throat. “Remind me never to enter that house without knocking. Loudly.”
Laughter lit Terra’s face with a cheery glow, making her look for a moment like that girl in the halls of Vector who had never yet worn a slave crown. Never shapeshifted into an inhuman form she didn’t understand, never lost the battle that razed the old world. The real reason that coming here had seemed like a good idea sprang vividly to the front of Celes mind, stealing her breath away.
Oblivious to the black magic of her smile, Terra finished putting away a pair of sweaters. Celes summoned the courage that came more freely when she faced a Behemoth than this slight woman. They were alone for a minute and not likely to find another like it until nightfall.
She sidled to Terra’s side by the nightstand, grinning with more calm than she felt. “I’ll take care of the windows since you’re not inclined.” Celes slipped her hand into Terra’s. Forward but undemanding. “Maybe there are other ways we can warm things up around here.” Terra’s open-mouthed sigh set Celes heart fluttering. Their fingers closed together. Terra’s eyes locked in her gaze, repeating all the things they’d said silently to each other like this only once before. Her eyes fell to Celes’ lips. With a quick intake of breath, Terra closed the last step between them.
-
Their mouths met with an elemental spark. A magical feedback that grew like spell-casting energy along Terra’s spine. The reflection of her innate fire in the mirror of Celes’ innate ice.
Celes curved a strong arm around her back, drawing the full length of their bodies together. Terra turned her head, savoring a slow kiss to Celes’ upper lip. Lower lip. Her skin was warm and smelled of something heady that was uniquely Celes. Terra opened her mouth to deepen the kiss.
A door burst open downstairs. Their lips broke apart to a cacophony of sliding chairs, “hot chocolate!”, the swish of walking snowpants, and “shh!”
Celes kissed her forehead instead. Her temple. “Later,” she whispered in Terra’s ear. Then stepped back. Weaving her thoughts slowly back into a coherent pattern, Terra smiled at the flushed cheeks and dazed expression on Celes’ face.
A clattering lid in the kitchen brought full sobriety like a thunderclap. “Bring Dajh down?” Terra asked. Celes nodded, heading for the toddler’s room. Terra bolted downstairs before the three terrors could decide their plan involved the stove.