Chapter One: A Rough Start

A/N: All right guys, a long time ago I deleted all my works in a foolish hasty act and have regretted it ever since because I never saved my works either. :( Oh well, I figured it was time I moved on and I am writing again! With this New Year I'm bringing a flood of stories whether they are the old stories I deleted, old ideas I never used, or brand new ideas, I promise many new stories on the horizon! I plan to have a Weasley-cest one-shot out within the next few days and start a new Sora/Riku story. :3 I plan to update this story and the Sora/Riku at least once a week each! I've all ways wanted to write a Snow/Hope but never gotten around to it so I hope this story properly captures their personalities and characters! Oh! I nearly forgot! This story does take place on Gran Pulse, but without L'Cie.

All right everyone! I have made a few changes brought up by the GREATEST beta reader ever, G-AnakinRPG.

Disclaimer: Naturally I DO NOT own any of the characters or locations mentioned in this work. All credit for characters, locations, etc. goes to Square-Enix.

Horror flashed before his eyes as he ran for the slim, small build of the woman he was to protect. She wore a nice suit that was the color of a thundercloud; a matching skirt suit completed the outfit. He reached into his trench coat and withdrew a gun swiftly firing off rounds at each of the men that fired on him and his client. Discarding the handgun he withdrew the automatic pistol and fired in bursts enough to take down each of the men, but it was of no use; so the man dove to shield his target from a barrage of bullets, however, it was too late. One moment, the woman that he was protecting was standing there, and in the next she collapsed in a mist of red. Her face twisted into a pained expression as she lay there, limp on the ground.

When Snow awoke, everything was blurry; slowly his eyes came into focus and he was sitting in his car. According to the clock he had dozed off just minutes ago and had woken back up still waiting on the young man he was to pick up. He could hear his client's voice still in his head as she said: 'As part of your contract, if I die, you are to take custody of my child and protect him from any possibly dangers. If you fail to accept these conditions, the deal will be off,' the woman told him in a stern voice; it wasn't an option, decision, or offer. Nor was his client - she was a high ranking politician that had just come back from a diplomatic mission. There was talk of a few people that were upset with some of her decisions and a plotted assassination attempt, but it was not taken seriously. So they hired Snow, a hired bodyguard and mercenary in desperate need for cash.

Now, Snow had failed to save someone for a second time in his life and was now having to take custody of her orphaned child and raise him. He had yet to meet or see the child but he knew things weren't going to be easy. It was his fault the boy's mother died. Snow gripped the steering wheel of the car and then he released it with a groan. He usually had an upbeat and optimistic attitude, but reality was sinking its sharp claws into him so that there was no room for pseudo happiness.

Finally, a silhouette appeared in the doorway of the building. A small figure, only about five feet or so, stepped down the steps with a suitcase in hand; the boy reached the car and opened the back door, putting his belongings in the back seat and climbing in. Snow observed the boy; he had silver hair that reached down to his jaw line. The boy did nothing more than stare out the window, not uttering a sound. As Snow started the car back up, a million thoughts raced through his mind. He didn't know the beginning to raising a kid. He didn't even know what his name was, how old he was, he didn't know anything! Finally, he found courage to break the silence as he put the car in drive and merged into traffic.

"So..." he paused for a few breaths, unsure how to proceed. "I am sorry for what happened to your mother…" he said while glancing in the rearview mirror, and seeing that the boy was still looking out the window. He didn't so much as acknowledge him. Snow let out a quite sigh.

"It should have been you," a hushed voice whispered from the back catching Snow off guard. "You should have been the one to die. It was your job," the kid said, still facing out the window. "My mother died because of you; you failed to protect her. Why weren't you there to defend her?" His voice was so soft and neutral and it was obvious that he was trying to hold back the rage and sorrow from his voice.

"I know," Snow's hands gripped the wheel tighter as he clenched his teeth and contempt flooded through him; not towards the child, but towards himself. Nora was the second person he had failed to protect. "You don't think I tried to throw myself in front of the bullets? You don't think I used all the power I had? Do you know what it is like to watch the very life drain from someone before your eyes while you have to stand there helpless? I tried! I failed!" he cried out as a few tears rolled down his cheeks, blinking the rest away. He wanted to blame Nora; she knew the dangers and the threats that were made and that the actions in turn took to protect her were not ample. No one could be blamed for this. "There was about six of them. As I escorted her to her vehicle, two flanked us from the side out of an alleyway. Four others approached in a vehicle and jumped out guns blazing. I handled the two with no problem, but the other four had the perfect angle because I had positioned myself between the two and your mother. What happened has happened. It's the past and there's nothing that can be done to change it. I can tell you I am sorry, I can give you all the money in the world; I can lay down my own life for you if it will please you. But it won't make the grief or pain any easier…" Just like Serah… he told himself mentally.

Just as the events of Nora's death flashed clearly before his eyes, he could see the death of his own beloved fiancée before his eyes. He was twenty-four at the time so the event took place just three years ago; Snow and Serah were out having a peaceful night together and were to be wed in just a few weeks. Unfortunately, one of the jobs Snow had taken up previously had angered a man that held a lot of influence in the criminal world. He sent a few of his men to teach Snow a lesson and Serah was caught in the crossfire. As the fight ensued Snow received minor injuries thanks to the metal plates he added to his trench coat for protection. As for his dearly beloved, she died in the hospital later from internal injuries. Those cruel memories haunted him and he slumped down slightly in the driver seat.

Snow pulled into the driveway of his small home. It wasn't much, but for a single guy it was all he needed. All of the basic necessities for living as well as a few pleasures were tossed in. Snow and Hope sat in the car, both refusing to budge or say anything; finally, Snow gave in and climbed out of the car with a sigh. He contemplated his next move for a second and finally made his way around the vehicle to open Hope's door so that he could take the boy's luggage- a few acts of kindness could serve to go a long way, he imagined, so that's where he would start. He still hadn't the slightest clue on how to even begin taking care of the kid - the boy seemed to be in his early to mid teens and his face showed no signs of facial hair and it still held soft, childlike features and innocence. Hope's silver hair was in contrast with his radiant green eyes that seemed to emit such beauty that when Snow caught the younger boy's eyes he couldn't take them away. He offered a weak smile that he knew wouldn't help. Looking into boy's eyes, Snow could feel his pain and knew what he was going through. He honestly did and he knew that nothing he could say would help the boy understand that or feel any better.

Finally Snow spun on the heels of his boots and withdrew a ring of keys out of his coat's inner pocket and inserted one into the doorknob of the front door; the door opened to a small entranceway. To the left there was a small entranceway, to the right was a small hallway, and straight ahead was a small closet. Snow kicked off his boots and dropped them into the bottom of the closet and hung his coat on a hook inside the closet door. There were various odds and ends in the closet: an umbrella, a few spare sets of boots, and some other things. Snow shut the door too quickly for Hope to see what else was inside.

"Well," said Snow while removing his bandana and shaking his head, letting his messy blonde locks fall down. "Welcome home! You will be sleeping in what was the guest bedroom, but seeing as I don't have too many guests, consider it your own!" he said, using his thumb to point over his shoulder. "That's the living room, in case you haven't noticed," Snow said, stepping into the hallway and turning left. He led Hope into the first door to the right. "This is your bedroom," he said while laying the boy's luggage on the bed; then he led him down to the next door, a bathroom, and finally the door at the end of the hallway which was his bedroom.

He turned left at the end of the hall which led to the dining room and kitchen; a small doorway also led into the living room from the dining room. Finally, there was a door next to the one leading to the living room, but Snow failed to mention it. It tugged at Hope's curiosity for a few moments before he shrugged it away without asking.

Both of the man obviously wanted to be alone due to the emotional trauma which each had just recently suffered. Hope headed for his room, his body hunched as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Meanwhile, Snow made his way to his own bedroom, a beer in hand. He clutched the can so tightly he feared it may crush under the pressure. He closed the door to his bedroom with his foot - it slammed shut a bit harder than he had intended and it echoed through the silent house. As he looked down at the beer he grimaced. After opening and chugging the beverage, Snow tossed the can in the general direction of the trash can. Its contents threatened to spill out onto the floor if it wasn't emptied soon. Ever since the death of his dearly beloved he began to live like a slob. He only took out the trash when absolutely necessary and spent much of his time drinking to dull the pain of the memories and feelings.

He removed his gloves and shed his vest and shirt and then looked at his tone and muscular body in the full-sized mirror. He sat on the edge of the bed; removing his socks and tossing them into a dirty clothes hamper which was also beginning to pile up. He sat there in his pants, his elbows rested on his knees and his body bent over. He took a few deep breathes to calm himself.

Meanwhile, Hope was busy unpacking his bag. He tucked his clothes away neatly in drawers and hung up the others - his only other pair of shoes was similar to the ones he wore now, he thought sadly as he realized that his mother would never buy him another pair. Crossing the room, he placed the shoes in the bottom of the closet, leaving them to suffer the same fate he had; living within a closet. He reached into the bottom of his suitcase and withdrew a photo of he and his mother. His father had perished in a car crash just a few months before his mother had found out she was pregnant with him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at the photo and laid it on the nightstand near the bed.

Snow was still sitting at the edge of his bed when there was a soft noise that broke the stillness and his thoughts. After a few moments it came again and he realized that there was a knock at his door. In a fraction of a second, all of his cold, sad memories washed away and he held a warm, kind grin.

"Come in," he said softly, and the door opened as Hope stood there, his head lowered. "Hey Hope!" His eyes were closed as he smiled at the boy and he patted (phrase deleted) the bed next to him, a gesture that invited the boy to join him. Hope crossed the room in a few steps and sat next to the tall, muscular man. Snow brought a strong, muscled arm around Hope's shoulder. "Is there something you want to talk about?" Snow inquired, offering the boy's shoulder a gentle squeeze reassuringly.

It took the boy a moment to begin to talk. "Well," he began before a short pause. Then he continued, his voice slow and dripping with undesired, malice that he couldn't hide no matter how much he struggled. "I can't forgive you for what you have done. But, I wanted to thank you," he said, pausing throughout the monologue as if the words were difficult for him to say."For . . . you know . . . taking me in like this." His voice trailed off as he shrugged Snow's arm off his shoulders.

"It's nothing," Snow responded, his voice full of warmth he hadn't thought that he could have during a time like this. "You know . . . you're mom isn't the first I failed to protect. She was the first client I have had that has ever died on me. The other was my girlfriend; she perished because made the wrong people mad and she was caught in the crossfire," he said, his voice having dropped to a near whisper.

"I'm sorry," Hope said in response to Snow's sad story, but it was only a 'sorry' anyone would say after hearing such tragic events. It wasn't that he didn't care, but it wasn't completely sincere.

"It's getting late," Snow said glancing at the clock it was an excuse to break the awkwardness. "I think you need some rest; it will help. You have free roam of the house and if you can find something in the kitchen that is edible - have at it!" he said, his cheerful demeanor returning. He stood, making it to the door of his bedroom in a step and a half and he opened it slowly, gesturing for Hope to exit.

Hope did, going back down the hallway towards his bedroom. Snow fumbled into the kitchen and withdrew another beer from the refrigerator and chugged it in three sips and crushed the can in his hand and tossed the flattened can over his shoulder towards the trash can - the trash can too was beginning to overflow. As he look around the house he realized just how messy it was; so many trash bins were over-flowing, crumbs and stains covered the carpet, and dirty clothes were spread throughout the house. He shuddered; he could only imagine how the young, now orphaned boy, felt in a strange environment with a complete stranger.

Snow made a mental note to begin cleaning the house, but it was too late to worry about that. Before he knew it, he was back in his room lying on his stomach on his bed. Today had moved by too quickly for him; everything that has happened seemed like some twisted, hellish nightmare. He closed his eyes, not bothering to crawl under the covers of his bed.

Snow was awoken in the night, a loud cry causing him to roll out of bed and jump in one swift motion. He darted for the door, blindly feeling for his dresser; too late. A sharp corner of the dresses pierced into his side. He grunted at the pain, it stung, but he had endured worse. He threw open his bedroom door and found himself bounding down the hallway throwing open the young boy's bedroom door. Snow stepped inside and saw that Hope was talking and from the way it sounded, he was suffering from the events from the previous day. Unsure of what to do, the tall blond man leaned over and gently shook the boy - the terrified Hope shoved Snow away. It wasn't the boy's strength more so that he just caught Snow off guard. He fell on his rump and after a moment climbed to his feet. Now sitting up in bed, Hope stared at Snow, his expression cross. A sigh escape Snow's lips, he looked down at the boy.

"Sorry, I heard you screaming and crying and I panicked is all," Snow said, gently pushed Hope until he was lying back down and he began to pull the covers up over the young boy.

"No!" Hope cried before Snow could pull the covers back to cover him - the boy slapped his hands away. "I don't want your help," he said, pulling up the covers and turning over on his side.

"Goodnight," Snow whispered, but either his farewell fell on deaf ears or the boy had all ready dozed back to sleep. Snow felt his way back to his bedroom, his side still stinging a bit from the run in with his dresser. He fell back on his bed and laid there for several long minutes while listening to the cries down the hall before he finally fell back asleep.

Snow woke up what felt like only a few minutes later - the clock read noon. Holy shit! he cursed mentally; he had slept far later than originally intended. He jolted out of bed, finding a muscle shirt and sliding it on. He opened his bedroom door to find that the house was almost silent save for several different voices that were speaking in the living room. Snow sneaked down the hallway and glanced around the corner and peaked - Hope had made a small hole amidst magazines, paperbacks, and dirty clothes to sit on the couch. He was almost disturbed to find that Hope was watching the news report of the killing of his mother. He nodded my head frowning before heading into the kitchen.

Snow downed two more cans of beer before starting to cook. Sure, he wasn't a chef, but living alone was either learn to cook or starve. So after frying up a few eggs, some bacon, and sausage he placed them on a plate and brought them into the living room. He fixed a glass of milk as well and sat them on a table that sat between the sofa that Hope sat on and the couch that was adjacent to the sofa. He looked at the food and then back at the television screen.

"Are you hungry?" Snow asked after a few moments. Hope ignored him. "I know it may not be perfect, but I tried my best. I figured it was the least I could d-"

"Look, Snow!" Hope cut Snow off midsentence. "If I were hungry I would go into that thing you call a kitchen and dig around through the trash to find something to eat. I'm not helpless like you; I don't expect you to keep up this kindness around me when it isn't true. It doesn't make me feel any better, okay? Got it? Just leave me alone!"

Snow drew back for a moment as if he was slapped to the face. The boy's sharp response hurt. Snow tried to figure out how the words of a child could hurt him so greatly. He frowned, looking down at the silver-haired boy. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it back as he considered his words.

"I am to protect you; I am to take care of you. I know it's not much but I will do my best to do so; even if it kills me." Snow spoke as he crossed his arms.

"Just like you protected my mother? She obviously made the wrong decision leaving you in charge of me. I'm sorry that you were too weak to protect your girlfriend, but just-" Hope's words ended abruptly as Snow grabbed the young man's shoulder tightly and drew back his other first. A look of terror crossed the young man's face when he realized just what was about to happen.