Author's Note: Hey, so, quickly, if you somehow missed it clicking into this fanfic, this story is going to deal with some sensitive subjects such as suicide. If this is going to upset you, or begins to upset you later, I implore you to click away. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Please have a good day. *virtual hug :)*

"Storm" is going to follow Lightning, which I haven't done very much of, but I've had a lot of fun exploring her character. I'm not planning on posting the rest of this until I finish it entirely, but I do have about five or six chapters done already, so if you want, I can post periodically instead. Just let me know! :)

I hope you enjoy this more serious fanfic.

She adjusted her grip on her gun, sweat slipping uncomfortably between her skin and the warm metal. She tried not to think too hard about whose skull the barrel was pressed up against, or what she had to do. But orders were orders.

He hadn't moved. Not when she was breaking in, not when she pulled out her gun, not when she put it to his head. He knew this was coming. He was prepared.

"It took you longer to get here than I thought," he mused, "I've been expecting you for a week."

"Well, it took us longer to find you than we thought. You went through a lot of effort to hide your wife."

"If you were married, wouldn't you do the same?"

She pushed the gun more firmly to his head, "This isn't about me."

"This isn't about me, either. It's about your government, about your order of things. You're not going to kill me because I rebel against the system, you're going to kill me because I represent everything wrong with the system."

She clicked the safety off the gun, "You won't be able to talk like that much longer."

"But there are others. This doesn't die with me. Or with the man below me, or the man below him. It lives on in every single one of your citizens. In every momentary wonder of why their lives are the way they are, if things could be different. Every child with a dream, every man or woman tired of their job."

"Stop talking," she growled, "this isn't a game."

He finally moved. He turned his head to face her, his eyes looking so blue in the darkness, calm with a fierce determination. He believed in his cause. He wasn't just prepared to die, he was willing.

"I don't have to be silent for you to kill me. I'll never be silent, too many people have heard me already."

"Dead men don't talk."

"But words live forever."

Her finger shook on the trigger. She could shoot him now, right between the eyes, and silence his damn mouth forever. She should. She had to.

She took a breath.

"Daddy?"

They both looked to the door. She guessed the child to be at least three years of age. She rubbed one of her eyes sleepily, dragging what looked like a Carbuncle doll.

He stood, passing her to get to his daughter. He wasn't afraid of her shooting him in front of the little girl. He was right not to, because she wouldn't. SHe lowered her gun.

He scooped his baby girl into his arms, "Is something wrong, Nora?"

Little Nora snuggled into her father, willingly dropping her toy, "My light broke..."

"Well that's no good," he said understandingly, "Why don't you go sit in the kitchen where there's some light, and I'll be out to fix your light when I'm done talking to this nice lady, okay?"

The girl looked over his shoulder at her with innocent little green eyes. She nodded, and he put her down, making sure she had her doll, "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Daddy," Nora murmured, then toddled out.

Once the child was out of earshot, he turned back to her, gesturing as if to say, "Your move."

She kept her gun gripped firmly in her hand, though she didn't want to raise it quite yet, "I didn't know you had a child."

"Children," he corrected, "Her younger brother is due in a few weeks. But don't worry about them, they have plenty of other father figures to help raise them after you kill me."

That was a challenge.

She had to kill him. It was her job. She didn't join the army to be soft on rebels, especially one of their strongest leaders. Besides, if she didn't, she would bring shame to her family. She'd never be able to go home again, if her superiors didn't have her killed before she even got the chance to consider it. This was the most important mission of her life, she couldn't back out now.

She huddled with her younger sister under their parents' bed. The loud sounds had stopped a few minutes ago, but she didn't think they were safe yet. Her sister clung tight to her, for once not asking a million questions. They were both very afraid, but she had to be strong. Daddy told her to.

There was a shuffling sound, and they retreated further under the bed. The bedroom door opened.

"Girls?"

Little did they know, it would be the last time they saw their father alive.

Always fight for what you feel is right, she thought, recalling something her father told her very often, listen to your heart.

Her heart wouldn't let her put Nora in the same position she and her sister had been.

Never breaking eye contact with him, she clicked the safety back on her gun, and holstered it.

His eyes smiled a little, but the rest of him remained deadly serious, "If you don't kill me, you can't go back."

"I know."

"We can protect you."