Long form, folks!

It's been awhile since I've written anything substantial. TL;DR? I've started dentistry school and am busier than ever—but it's finally time for some downtime. I've started my clinic run, which means no more studying, no more exams (for now) and that means I get to return to the idea that started over a year ago; when I played LR in Japanese.

I've always wanted to do this particular fic, and it's going to be a little shorter than my other completed ones (If you're following Trembling World still, don't worry, I've got plans to finish that as well) but I'm excited. I don't quite know yet how everything is going to pan out, so there's a little bit of the unknown in here, but I'm still excited.

Square didn't give us many details about the epilogue of LR, which is where I'll pick up, so for the things I've imagined, you're going to have to bear with me. I don't want to lay them out bread and butter here one by one, but, I figure you'd appreciate some backstory.

- Square has stated that Hope returned to his "adult" age, so I'm going with that.
- I've no idea what calendars and such exist (and it's not too important to the story anyways) but I've gone ahead and used the calendar we're all familiar with.
- I also haven't revived everybody, as Square said we did at the end of the game, but I don't think the characters I leave out are anybody of importance.

The rest of the background, I'll have to let the story tell itself, so, here goes nothing!

Disclaimer:Final Fantasy XIII belongs to Square Enix, and is always happily returned at least partially intact!

Reviews/constructive criticism is appreciated as always, and I hope to see you all soon. (:

Chapter One: The Other Side of the Boundary

March, CE 2

Despite the cool wind, it was almost as though winter had never come. The brown grasses were beginning to turn green again, and rain was starting to fill the crater like scars that giant talons had left in the earth. But the wind also blew the smell of ash and dust, and Lightning coughed into the dull scarf before tightening her hands around her shovel.

The ash mixed with the remaining piles of snow was disorientating, as though she lived in a world of grey. But that wasn't necessarily true, as she reflected; the world that she'd first seen was green, the colour of summer grass and what she'd come to associate with the promise of a future—and hope.

But that greenness didn't last very long. It wasn't long before their settlement of the new planet had brought unwelcome change. Or rather, they'd been the unwelcome change. She supposed it probably hadn't been completely unexpected. Trust the damned god to throw a wrench in our plans when he figured he was going to lose. They weren't alone. And just like the first time civilization had populated Pulse, this was much the same.

But the differences were deadly.

The summer that they'd landed had been peaceful, largely because most people had been too afraid to wander far from the small pockets of civilization. But when autumn came, and resources around the tiny towns had been exhausted, a few adventurous immigrants had gone hunting in search of new ways to sustain themselves. What they'd found—or rather, what found them—hadn't been pleasant at all.

Out of the northern mountain ranges swarmed dark parasites that had attacked like a nest of angry wasps when disturbed. Feeding exclusively off human life, they'd quickly caused panic and terror to arise in the small seeds of civilization that they'd managed to plant.

Intelligence had quickly dubbed them Drasil, after the tree of light that had sustained the dying world's last days. Numerous religious sects believed that the Drasil had come as punishment for the misdeeds that humanity had committed in the final days.

That's a load of garbage. Lightning didn't believe in their beliefs for one heartbeat—not that she had patience for the crazy nutters that roamed up and down the streets every morning, shouting the most idiotic things she'd ever heard. If they wanted to help, they wouldn't be sitting around doing nothing.

No one said this was going to be easy.

At the time, it had sounded wonderful—a new world without gods, without magic, without the timelessness that had held humanity still for five hundred years. But she had never expected it to be simple, and Lightning was tired of the complaints she heard every day, as though the dissenters had expected it to be that simple. Did they think we were going to wake up in a world already built for us?

That thought made her angry. If we're going to survive, we'll still have to fight for it.

Fighting itself had been a different issue. She'd kept away from the hastily put-together militia, and kept her head down. She didn't go out without a hood and a scarf to cover most of her head and face, afraid that people would recognize her from somewhere. When Serah had asked about it, she hadn't had an answer. She'd told her sister it was because she didn't want the attention, but deep down it was more than that.

She hated to admit it, but Lightning was afraid—in a way she'd never been afraid before—of the responsibility that might come to fall on her shoulders. She was afraid to have to be the one to make things right. What if it's my fault all those people have died? It was a gnawing fear that she usually managed to push away, but a vulnerability nonetheless. She didn't want to have to lead anyone again. That's done. I just… want to be a regular person. Is that selfish?

But whether or not her sister agreed with her, and whether or not Serah had her own misgivings, Lightning avoided the small chain of command that had been set up like the plague. Instead, I get to be here, digging out the ashes left by the last few firebombs. She knew Serah didn't exactly approve, but her sister had kept quiet—most of the time. She also knew that Serah had spent the last few months silently pondering the changes that had come over her, and wanted an explanation, but Lightning wasn't sure she wanted to share that part of herself just yet. Even to Serah.

I just don't think she understands.

She returned most of her attention back to digging. She had to admit whoever had come up with the idea had been smart: the Drasil were vulnerable to flame, so it made sense to throw crude explosives at it. A group of smaller Drasil could probably be handled with conventional weapons alone; even the shovel she had in her hands was probably enough to take one out. The problem was that not all drasil were the same size, and when one the size of several houses put together decided to attack a settlement it was harder to stop. The last one had come a little too close for Command's liking, and the higher ups there had ordered the bombing. It would have been a nice idea if we didn't take out one of the smaller settlements in the process. Intelligence had argued that everyone in the settlement was dead anyways—it wasn't like the Drasil were merciful—but Lightning wasn't sure if she agreed. However, since she wasn't part of the chain of command, and as far as they were aware, just a civil worker, she had to follow her instructions when the fires finally burnt out and come digging through the ashes left behind.

Wonderful.

She briefly wondered how long Command thought they could keep this up. Every time there was a drasil attack, more people were injured, and more people died. She wasn't in any position to question them, but anyone could see that there needed to be a solution—and soon. The tension around town was akin to the subdued quiet of cattle headed for the chopping block.

A brief ray of sunshine poked it way around the overcast sky, sending small refractions of bright light from the remaining piles of snow. Something needs to change. Soon. Shifting through the grey dirt, she coughed again when a gust of wind blew a puff of ash into her face. It wasn't a smell, or a taste, that could be gotten rid of easily and Lightning could've sworn it took ages for her to wash off. Even after spending half an hour at the small sink she had back home, she could swear that still more of it clung to her skin. Fire and death. That's all that's left here.

It was late in the afternoon when most of the horse drawn carts were full. She was careful to avoid eye contact with the one that held the corpses that someone would have to bury back in the main part of town, and she didn't envy the people that would have to do it. Hoisting the shovel onto her shoulder, she lined up with the rest of the workers by the south of the settlement ruins. The line moved slowly as the workers dropped off their tools and collected their earnings. Out of habit, she kept her head down; even out here, there was a chance that someone would recognize her and Lightning found herself staring at her ash-stained hands.

For some reason, the sight made her nostalgic, but only slightly. She couldn't say that she would miss the days that they looked otherwise, but for the umpteenth time since that first fight with the Drasil, she wished things could've been different. If only we had come to a world that isn't as dangerous and hostile as this one.

Then she snorted, disgusted that the thought had ever crossed her mind. Now I'm starting to sound like those ridiculous people in robes. She shook her head to clear those thoughts out of it.

Taking the small sack of coal and the modest amount of money that was the standard payment for all civil workers, she headed south, taking the flattened path of long grass. Once there'd been plans to build roads between the settlements, but that plan had long been abandoned. For now, the crude road would have to do.

Glad that the acrid smell of ash was no longer blowing into her nose Lightning loosened her scarf a little. She hoped no one would have the audacity to look at her; after all, she wasn't a friendly person. Nonetheless, she avoided speaking as much as possible in case someone recognized her voice. She was probably being paranoid, but after months of trying to avoid the Church and Command alike she was tired of being chased, tired of their insistence that she help them , and tired of being treated as though she could make everyone's problems go away.

Her fingers clenched tightly around the mouth of the rough burlap sack. Go find someone else to solve your problems!

Her less than happy mood persisted until Lightning reached the main portion of town. Truth be told, it wasn't much of a town. Houses had been thrown together hastily out of either wood or stone, and from all the fires that they'd had to create lately, most of them were soot stained as well until they were as grey as the dirt they'd been built on. Technology as she remembered seemed a long way off. Not until we defeat the Drasil.

The crimson sunset had driven most inhabitants back to their homes—although it was unlikely for the Drasil to come soon, the smell of smoke that repelled them wouldn't last long, and it wasn't as though they had enough resources to keep fires burning day and night. She cast a sullen gaze over at the concrete building towards the south of the settlement, surrounded by a slightly crumbling stone wall. Any sympathy she might've felt for Command had long been erased by their ceaseless hounding of her.

Unceremoniously, she kicked a stray lump of coal under her boot. Some people just don't grasp the concept of "unwelcome". Speaking of unwelcome…

She spotted Serah's drawn face peeking around the rough curtains that framed the crude glass of the windows. Her sister wore a look of relief as she opened the door. "You're back!" Accepting the hug that her sister offered her, Lightning dropped the sack of coal near the entranceway.

"You're going to get ash on your clothes," she rebuked her sister as she headed towards the small sink in the corner of the kitchen, intent on getting the dirt out from under her fingernails. Serah followed her with the coal, dumping it in the wooden bucket near the small heater.

"I'll just wash them later," came the reply. Lightning half turned her head to see a small smile playing on Serah's lips. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"I did promise to be careful," she replied dryly, still scrubbing at her palms.

Her sister's face failed a little as she went on. "Command was here again today, looking for you." There was a little pause before Serah went on. "I told them you were out."

Sensing that she was waiting for her to say something, Lightning turned off the water. "Thanks." Her sister hesitated, but she wasn't prepared to say more on the subject.

Handing her a towel, Serah sat down at the small table. "They're not going to give up on hoping to catch you sometime, you know. They know you live here."

Lightning felt like rolling her eyes. "They're just wasting their time," she said between gritted teeth. "The only reason they're not here now waiting for me is because they want to stay on my good side. Come on, Serah, d'you really think Heklar is that stupid?"

Serah pursed her lips, and she could tell that her sister didn't want to continue discussing this particular topic. Her sister brightened a little a moment later. "Snow's coming home today," she blurted out, clearly wanting to talk about something else.

Great.

"He's excited to come home," Serah continued determinedly, ignoring the distasteful expression Lightning was sure she was wearing on her face at the moment. "And he's excited to see you too."

"I'll bet he is," Lightning muttered under her breath. "He's excited to see everyone. He's like a big dog who's seen his favourite chew toy." And that chew toy, of course, would be me.

Serah gave her a long look. "Be nice to him, okay?" she asked pleadingly. "I know he isn't exactly your favourite person right now, but he's been really busy lately… I did tell him to stop being… annoying about it."

And as irritated as Lightning was at her de-facto brother at the moment, that was enough to draw a small smile from her, and she sighed. "Yeah… okay. I can't guarantee anything if he starts again, though," she warned her sister.

Serah returned her smile. "Trying is good." Getting up, her sister made her way over to the wooden box that was outside in the tiny backyard. Drifts of snow were still piled up in the corners, their ash-grey tops touched to a crimson gold in the sunset. For the time being it was still cold enough at night to keep food inside it, but they would have to find another way to keep the food fresh once summer came.

Leaving her sister to the cooking, Lightning found herself wandering up the half-flight of stairs. There wasn't that much more space upstairs, but with Snow coming home soon, she preferred to be upstairs rather than down. His perpetual good mood tended to ruin hers, and she snorted, remembering the broken man that she'd once found in Yusnaan. The memory seemed almost exotic, as though it'd been taken from someone else's life. It seems so far away now.

Could I really have imagined that this is the new future we fought so hard to save?

Lightning found herself on the tiny balcony that overlooked the small settlement into the dying red sun. Resting her chin on her palm, she found that she had no answer for that question, because so many other questions lay unanswered.

She supposed that she owed Snow a certain degree of thanks. The burly man had volunteered instantly to "help the people", something she inherently shied away from. It was thanks to him they even had a place to live—unlike the other settlers who had scrambled to put wooden shacks together in the outskirts of town before winter had hit. And because Snow had volunteered to work at Command, she was spared a certain amount of responsibility, although he hadn't stopped asking her to join them every time he came home.

That was what she hated most about him. Sure, he was a more likeable person now—or maybe she'd learned to just put up with him, instead of him being the bane of her existence—but she hated his pointed comments that he made an effort to make every time he was around, which, thankfully, wasn't often. He acted like he didn't know about the string of officers that were continuously dispatched to his own home. Serah, of course, agreed with him on principle. It wasn't that her sister was particularly fond of her working at Command, it was that she agreed with him that she should get out of the house more often.

Serah had noticed the change in her demeanor much more quickly than Snow had, although if the blond man still had no inkling of it, then he had to be on a whole new level of unobservant. But Serah doesn't understand. Lightning found her free hand clenching into a fist. I don't want to be responsible for everyone anymore. And if I go to command, that's exactly what's going to happen.

She wasn't exactly open to sharing that particular thought with her sister—she didn't want to be the topic of another soul searching conversation that wouldn't go anywhere.

Because Serah and Snow are different people. They're happy. They don't carry the weight of everything that they've done around with them on their shoulders.

I do.

But that little fact wasn't something she planned on burdening Serah with at all. After all, her sister was back, she was happy—considering the circumstances—and she wasn't about to break into that. If it meant putting up with the pair of them whenever Snow was around, then she supposed that was the price she would have to pay.

She half-smiled at that to herself. After everything they'd been through, she still wasn't comfortable emptying all her thoughts out like Snow did to her sister. Old habits die hard, I guess. She stayed put where she was, although she heard the door open and close downstairs, wrapped in a moment of uncharacteristic nostalgia, as the thought brought up memories that seemed like they'd happened lifetimes ago. And maybe they had, all things considered. Where she stood now seemed like the furthest thing she had in mind when she remembered her thoughts about the future she'd wanted to create. The old sense of unease crept through her limbs when Lightning caught sight of a distant plume of fire, bright already against the darkening sky.

I'm not the only person who fought for a future.

Fang, Vanille… and Hope. We all wanted the same thing. Where are they now, I wonder?