A PLACE TO REST

by Hydraa

I haven't written any fanfiction for about five years, so hopefully this won't be too strange. This is inspired by the anime.

SPOILER ALERT

Chrno Cross doesn't belong to me. No copyright is assumed.

The funeral was over. The hosannas had been sung, the prayers had been made, and the grave had been filled.

It was late now, the sky half black with clouds, half filled with shining stars. The moon drifted uncaringly across it, shining just enough light that the old car that bumped its way across the graveyard didn't quite hit any of the tombstones.

Finally, it reached the grave it wanted, a fresh one underneath a huge lilac bush that wasn't yet in bloom. It stopped, its headlights shining on that grave, and a few minutes passed before the driver's side door finally opened and a man stepped out.

He was old, his back hunched and his hair white. Huge, black glasses obscured his eyes as he rose and went over to the grave. He was decades too old for this, he thought as he looked down at the quiet grave, the fresh topsoil covering it a sharp contrast to the moonlit grass or all the flowers that had been left. It should have been a young man doing this work.

It should have been done in the first place.

He bent, his joints protesting in ways that he normally ignored in the warm light of day, and began to clear the multitude of flowers away from the grave. It took a while, there was so many of them, and his back ached by the time he finally straightened and went back to the car.

He opened the trunk, the old metal creaking as he lifted it. The man winced, but there was no one there to hear. Anyone still awake would be at the wake, remembering the young girl who lay in that grave alone.

She'd be canonized soon, he'd heard. After all, she'd performed the three miracles required for that exalted state. She healed the sick with her touch, she defeated a devil…

…She made a demon love her.

Out of the trunk, he took a heavy shovel and frowned. If moving the flowers made him ache, this was going to be really painful. Still, he turned and slowly went back to Rosette Christopher's grave. After a muttered prayer, he began to dig.

The soil was fresh and light. Still, his back started to ache after a few shovelfuls and by the time he got a foot down, pain was lancing down his spine and into his hips. Yes, definitely something for a younger man to do.

"Elder! What are you doing??"

The Elder startled, almost dropping the shovel as he turned. Beside the car, her hands clasped under her chin, stood Azmaria, her hair a fall of silver in the moonlight and her eyes obviously red from all her weeping, even in the dim light. "Why?" she whispered.

The Elder's shoulders sagged and he blew out a breath. "I'm doing what has to be done, girl. Go back to bed."

She ignored his order. "But what are you doing? Rosette's dead!" Fresh tears shone in her eyes and his heart lurched.

He blew out another breath. "Chrno is in the back seat," he admitted wearily.

Azmaria turned to the car in surprise, her hands still clasped together. For a moment she stared at it, then turned and grabbed the car handle, wrenching it open.

Chrno lay in a patch of moonlight on the back seat, huddled on his side with his dark lashes vivid against his pale face. His long, lavender braid was draped over his shoulder and onto the floor of the car. Gently, Azmaria moved it before she knelt there, tears now streaming freely out of her eyes. She'd never seen him so still, except when they found him and Rosette sitting together on the swing outside that battered old cottage.

He was so cold that she could feel it without even touching him, but still she laid a trembling hand against his cheek. Though she'd known it then, and knew it now, still it sent a shock through her. He was dead. There was nothing lying there but a little body smaller even than her. She started to weep.

"No one would tell me where he was. They took him away and no one would tell me where he was!" She wiped her eyes. It was so unfair. Rosette got the funeral of a hero and Chrno wasn't even spoken of. No prayers had been said for him at the funeral, save the ones she whispered.

"He was brought to my lab," The Elder told her. "The Council wanted me to use him for research into better ways to kill demons." Azmaria stared at him, horrified. "I didn't touch him, girl. I put him in my cold room until tonight. I'll make something up for my report."

Azmaria turned back to Chrno, stroking his cheek gently and brushing a stray hair away from his face. Her throat felt thick. "Why didn't he turn to ash like all the other demons did when they were killed?" she whispered.

"I don't know. I suspect because Chrno died very peacefully, not in violence." Azmaria squeezed her eyes shut to hold in her weeping. "Or maybe God does have miracles for demons." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Come and help me."

Azmaria leaned forward to press a tender kiss to Chrno's forehead and stood. "What are we doing?"

The Elder smirked. "My official orders are, once I've finished with him, I'm to find a hole somewhere to dump him in."

A hand flew to her mouth. "I can't believe Sister Kate would order that!"

The smirk widened. "The Council ordered it. Sister Kate suggested that I put him under a lilac bush. Since I can't find any holes under any lilac bushes, I figured I'd make one. Care to help me?"

Azmaria looked towards Rosette's grave. Was it sacrilegious? She didn't care. If God was what she believed He was, it was holy. "Okay," she whispered.

Together, she went to the side of the grave with the Elder, where he took up the one shovel and started to dig, his arms trembling.

"Elder," the girl begged. "Please, let me help." He looked down at her and wordlessly passed the shovel over.

Azmaria started to dig, but she was only a twelve-year old girl and the dirt was heavy. The hole barely grew at all before he took the shovel back and slowly took some more out, obviously tired.

"We'll never get it dug before dawn!" she cried. She had no illusions that this would ever be allowed officially.

"Can we help?" a hesitant voice asked from behind them. Both the girl and the old man whirled to see Sisters Anna, Mary, and Claire standing behind them. All three carried shovels.

"What?" Azmaria gasped. "How did you know?"

The first nun, Anna, shrugged. "We didn't. Sister Kate suggested we go for a walk and we saw you both. We figured out what was happening and went to get shovels."

"Please let us help," Claire added. "It's what Rosette would have wanted."

"And Chrno," Mary finished. "Please."

The Elder and Azmaria looked at each other. "Very well," the old man said at last, secretly relieved.

The three nuns stepped forward and with their help, the grave was opened quickly, the women eventually just taking over and letting the old man and the girl stand aside and watch. Azmaria went back to kneel beside Chrno, holding his hand.

"Thank you for everything you've done," she whispered to him. "You saved my life so many times, and you saved Rosette. Thank you."

"Azmaria," the Elder called. "We're ready."

The girl rose and went back to them. The grave was open, the coffin exposed. As she prayed, the Elder wedged it open and lifted the lid. New tears sprang to her eyes. Rosette lay inside in a white gown and headdress, her hands folded on her breast. She was beautiful, but just as still as Chrno.

Together, the nuns and the old man moved her over some, shifting her to the side of the coffin. Then Azmaria started to sing very softly as they went back to the car.

The Elder lifted Chrno out, the nuns stepping in to help support his body. Azmaria darted in to catch his braid before it hit the ground. Together, Azmaria still singing, they moved slowly back over to the grave, Chrno carried on a bier of their arms.

Her song ended as they stood over the grave. "Goodbye, boy," the Elder said gruffy. "You were a good housemate, even if you didn't care to look up girls' skirts." The nuns blushed. "Plus you did my laundry. I'm going to miss you."

Sister Claire looked up at him to see if he was done. "Goodbye, Chrno," she said then. "God be with you." She leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"Goodbye, Chrno," Sister Marie said next. "God be with you and may you find Rosette waiting." She kissed his hand.

Sister Anna smiled. "God is with you, Chrno. And I'm sure Rosette is too. Goodbye." She kissed his other hand.

They all looked at Azmaria, who stood there clutching the end of his braid so tightly that her knuckles were white and her tears soaked the lavender strands. More tears she was convinced would never stop were pouring down her cheeks. "Oh, Chrno!" she sobbed, bolting forward to throw her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "I miss you and Rosette so much! I love you!" She sobbed hard, but his skin only warmed from her touching it and he didn't answer. The nuns whispered reassurances to her, but it was a long time before she was able to let go. She would have run then, not wanting to see any more, but then no one would have been able to hold up his braid and she couldn't let it get dirty on the ground. So she stood there as the four adults knelt and managed to lower him into the coffin.

There wasn't room enough to lay him on his back like Rosette was. Instead they settled him onto his side, his head pillowed on Rosette's shoulder, his arm draped over her so that his hand curled beside her head. Azmaria laid his braid down across them both and wiped her eyes furiously, weeping again.

For a moment, all five of them looked down at the two, lying in an intimate embrace that was the only way for them to be together and now would last for eternity. Finally, their heads lowered in prayer and as the moon started to touch the horizon, the Elder closed the coffin lid and they began to refill the grave.

It didn't take as long as digging the grave out and soon it was pristine and full again, soon to be covered in a layer of green grass. They replaced the flowers and stood there some more. It wasn't until dawn itself that the Elder took the car back to the church and the nuns moved away, holding each other and weeping.

Azmaria stayed at the gravesite until the sun was high in the sky, alternately weeping, singing, and praying. The grief didn't ease, but eventually she felt a little better, or at least too tired to cry.

Rosette and Chrno were together. Neither of them had wanted to die, but really, as she believed in God, Azmaria knew that all that died were their bodies. Their spirits still existed and she knew in her heart that they were together, just as their bodies were now. God wasn't so cruel as to allow anything else.

Azmaria wiped her eyes one more time. They ached, as she ached for need of sleep.

"Goodbye, Rosette. Goodbye Chrno. I'll never forget you." Slowly, she walked away.

She never did forget them and she came often to lay flowers on the mutual grave, but not once did she or any of the others speak of who else lay in that grave with the Saint. That secret they kept in their hearts, where it was always holy.