~*Solidarity*~

"My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believed in me." - Jim Valvano

What, in the name of the Maker, had he done to deserve this?

Someone needed to answer him. Someone. He didn't care who. But the longer he went without an answer, the more he wanted to claw at his chest, find the tattered remains of his heart, and hurl it out the nearest window.

Hell, fate wasn't done with him yet. No, not even after the incident with the Fal'Cie and the L'Cie and the death of his mother. It seemed destiny wanted to toy with him some more, pick at the precious few strands of his family that he had left.

Whoever it was—the Maker, some devilish entity—had taken his father, Bartholomew, away from him.

Hope thought that his house had never seemed emptier. He supposed it was the truth. He was a fifteen year old left alone in a rather sizable structure that was a part of a former ghost town. Oerba, the former home of Fang and Vanille, had been rebuilt by the citizens of Cocoon, and now it was used as the main base of operations on Gran Pulse. The main reason for this was because the settlement had been mostly intact anyway.

That and Lightning, along with the rest, had decided to do it as a homage to their lost friends.

Placing his head in his hands, he took a deep, shaky breath. The world seemed to have drained of color. He hadn't even gotten completely over the death of his mother, Nora. And now…his father was dead and gone. And he was alone, the last of his family name.

The concept was staggering. And painful. Horribly so. Words couldn't even begin to properly describe the pain burning in his chest. It emptied his mind, leaving him feeling hollow and singed.

And to make matters worse, Vanille wasn't there to comfort him. Not this time.

"It's too much, isn't it? Face it later."

"Yeah…but does that always work?" He sighed and fell back onto the sofa, draping an arm across his eyes. He wasn't old enough to live by himself. He simply couldn't. No…he'd have to see if Sazh or Light or Snow would let him live with them.

They probably will, but…

A tendril of flaming thorns worked its way down his stomach, setting his innards ablaze. The heat of his own agony was enough to almost make him start crying. What were the odds of both his parents being killed? What were the odds?

He heard the door open with a soft, slow creak. This was followed by measured footsteps, and he recognized the clink of boots against the tiles of the hallway. He didn't move, didn't stir, as the figure came closer.

Hope said without opening his eyes or otherwise moving, "The funeral's tomorrow."

The newcomer paused. He knew who she was already. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," he choked out, fighting off another wave of despair and willing back tears that were threatening to spill. He would not let Lightning see him crying. There was no way in hell he'd let that happen.

The couch dipped a bit as she sat down beside him, and he sensed her uneasiness. Sazh, Snow, and even Serah had been by earlier with comforting words and promises to be there for him. Hence why he knew all of them would gladly take him in since he had nowhere else to go.

But Light? Light wasn't good at the consoling business. If it was a corporal obstacle, something she could break down with physical strength and wit and blade, there would be no one better to call upon. But her actions spoke louder than her sparse words, and here, she probably felt helpless.

"What happened?" She asked at last, her tone calm and even. She was probably trying to sound collected for his sake.

Instinctively, Hope shied away from the memory of the incident. It was too much, too much, all at once and too close together and—

"Accident," he blurted, removing his arm from his face and sitting up. When he blinked his eyes open, the living room appeared unnaturally dull. There was only one light on, and even the small computer monitor in the corner seemed to glow black and gray.

Silence. "What kind?"

Still not looking at her, Hope muttered, "Someone…on a velocycle… collided with Dad's craft on the way to work. He died in the hospital only a few minutes after I arrived."

Lightning shifted, and he heard the quiet tap of her fingers against the hilt of her gun-blade. She was most likely searching for the right thing to say, but when it came to death, there was really nothing. Words were meaningless.

"Funeral's tomorrow," he repeated. An invitation, though she didn't need one. "At-At Palumpolum. He's going to be buried next to Mom."

"Hope."

He knew what she wanted, so he looked at her reluctantly, peeking up at the soldier through his platinum bangs. He found her expressionless as always, but her eyes were kind and open. It was a shock, seeing such a…motherly aspect in her gaze.

She moved her sights from him, staring off straight ahead, hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes became distant, as she delved into her timeworn memories.

"I've told you this before. Serah and I…we lost our parents too. So I know how you feel. Alone and broken."

Hope was about to add something more, but she cut him off.

"You probably feel worse. At least I had Serah. You think you're all alone…" Lightning trailed off, and again, she seemed to be trying almost frantically to find the right way to express what she wanted to tell him. He was touched enough that she had left work to come sit with him.

"Light…"

"Remember what I said?" She interrupted sharply, making it clear that she wasn't quite done. "I'll protect you. You still have a family. You…can be a Farron. If you want." The last part was tacked on in a somewhat hasty fashion. Giving him a choice.

His throat began aching terribly for some reason, and he couldn't force anything past the lump that had formed there. He met her eyes and swallowed hard, repeatedly, blinking several times in a futile endeavor to keep the tears away.

Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms around her and leaned into her shoulder as the tears began to fall. Lightning seemed a little astonished at first, but he felt himself relax even more as she hugged him warmly.

"I-I-I'm sorry," he gasped out, leaning away from her after he couldn't sob anymore. Hope had the nasty feeling that his ears and cheeks were red.

"What for?" She looked at him questioningly.

"I...got your clothes wet…" He wiped at the traitorous tears furiously. "And I cried…."

"There's nothing wrong with crying."

"But…you don't do it." His tone hardened. "And I need to be strong. Like you."

The corner of Light's lips twitched. "I used to."

The idea was so contradicting to his vision of Lightning that he laughed a bit, though the action sounded devoid of any real emotion. More like a mocking bark. "Really?" He inquired wryly.

"When my parents first died, I did a lot. Then I changed my name."

"And now you don't?"

She nodded once, curtly. "But Hope…crying is fine, when you're still becoming accustomed to what's happened."

He sniffed once. "O-Okay."

Lightning flicked his forehead, a playful motion between them. "Do you still want to sit here in the dark?"

Hope gazed at his surroundings, and he swore the room suddenly regained its color. The house abruptly felt small, airless, and claustrophobic. The clean, tranquil feeling that had consumed him after he cried morphed into something a little more…normal. A little more real.

He didn't feel as if he didn't belong in his own body.

"Let's go," he declared, standing up and straightening his rumpled outfit. He ran a self-conscious hand through his hair, smoothing the locks out. His eyes were probably red, but oh well.

There was a funeral to attend tomorrow, and an abundance of sorrow in store, but Hope decided to take the advice of two wise females.

The funeral? It was…too much. Right now. He'd face it later, its meanings and everything it contained, when it actually came. And not a second before.

The sadness? It would never be completely banished, but as he walked beside Lightning—Claire—through the restored streets of Oerba, he could find solace in the fact that he wasn't alone.

~*X*~

Author's Note: This probably sucks. Let's be honest here. I had a small bit of Writer's Block on something else and this was written up on the spot, and I must say, I think it worked, my creativeness is flowing again.

Review, even if it's to tell me this was a piece of junk.