a/n: Hi there. Please enjoy, this will be quite a lengthy story I hope. Some things will need to be explained as I go along but the introductory chapter doesn't have too much taxing information I hope. Let me know if its any good ^^.

"Shit..." whispered Snow, ducking down and pulling Serah with him by her hand. She stooped and carefully rested into his side.

"What is it?"

"Patrol... they've put a barricade, we're gonna have to take the really long way round."

"That doesn't matter. If it takes longer than we want it to, then it takes longer. What's really important is protecting our people."

"You're right, babe," he grinned wryly, falling in love with her all over again.

"Move, move!" urged Hope, swatting his hand towards the frightened masses as drones and armed troops came swarming in on them all. He mentally cursed feeling so aimless but his primary motive was to get rid of their pursuers. The Vile Peaks, the spot he had found himself dumped in, had ample hiding spots at least. What, with the rubble and uneven terrain, they easily had the upper hand. The armed forces weren't going to make that much of an effort to clear them all up - the focus was primarily on keeping the cursed and forsaken people on Cocoon and away from ships boarding to Pulse.

Everything was supposed to be okay. They'd felled Orphan, Fang and Vanille had sacrificed themselves for the good of mankind and saved Cocoon from plummeting straight out of orbit, Lightning had fought to the death. They were supposed to have won and be left to enjoy their bittersweet victory. For a while, everything really was fine. Serah sprinted towards them, free from her stasis and they mourned the loss of Fang and Vanille, and Lightning especially. But it seemed a new hope was on the horizon.

And then, the dream all ended; the reality scraped their joviality away. It seemed as if Cocoon itself had retaliated to mankind's triumph. Hundreds, potentially thousands, had been dragged under a wave of mysterious force - transformed into a power they thought dead. The world had become awash with Sanctum L'cie.

And it frightened the rest of the population. They demanded the l'cie be left behind as not to pollute their new world with damaged goods. And someone somewhere had listened to their pleading and set up a pseudo-governmental force to keep the l'cie up, and take those who were spared down to their better lives.

"Everyone, move to higher or lower ground!" he ordered, figuring that the best means of avoiding the oncoming troops was to place a level between them. They were scaremongering rather than cleaning up anyway.

He knew not everyone would obey but at this point; he didn't know if it was his problem anymore either. And he knew they had no reason to listen to a kid anyway, even if that kid had battled through more harrowing experiencing in his few years than they had ever done. They weren't to know. But the majority saw sense in his advice and dispersed.

He forced himself to let go of his compassion for just a moment and let the damned be damned. Maybe they'd get lucky somewhere.

He hurdled over a rusted metal beam and vaulted down to lower ground, searching for some kind of opening. He didn't know what was going on as he tumbled sideways dramatically; it would've been comical any other time. All he knew is that something had a grip on his wrist and panic froze him in place as he assumed the worst. Better to expect that than to be optimistic and complacent. (Idly, he reflected that maybe Lightning wasn't gone at all, and was just living on in his mind as his conscience. That absolutely sounded like an ideology she would have.)

When nothing happened and the forces swept past his location, he dared to breath and searched for the source of his capture. His head turned to his right, where he'd been snared by and he was met with another head and eyes boring into his soul. The old and cowardly Hope would've whimpered and tried to pull back but this Hope poised himself ready to retaliate should this figure grasping him try anything suspicious.

To his bewilderment, his wrist was relinquished, but that didn't mean he relaxed any. The pseudo-soldier in him laughed at how stupid that idea was. (And the mini-Lightning in his conscious joined him).

"Sorry," whispered a feminine voice. "You were about to overlook this spot..."

So... was this girl a savior.

"Come out into the light," Hope instructed softly.

There was some vague shuffling sounds and finally, a lithe girl emerged, standing straight. He couldn't help a slight gawk as her red hair tumbled down over her shoulders and ended at the bottom of her back. She was dressed most bizarre - in deep purple cloth wound around her figure, unlike anything Cocoon had ever witnessed in its vibrant fashion scene. Her knees were scuffed above her brown leather-looking well-worn boots and her bangle adorned arms were dirtied and bruised. Her eyes were green and sharp but exhaustion lulled beneath them, her pert nose had been broken sometime or another, and her pale red lips were pulled into a tight, uncertain grimace.

She carried the vibes of a fighter, but the body and face of a catwalk model and her hair seemed highly impractical to combat and survival. Until she pulled it over her shoulder awkwardly and twisted the length up into some fashion of a bun and tied it up.

"A-Am I in trouble?" she stammered awkwardly, playing with her hair. Hope couldn't hold back a demure laugh at the idea he'd intimidated her so much.

"No, I was just surprised. I didn't realize you were a person; thought a machine or monster got me. Or worse; the troops."

"Oh, yeah. That would be unfortunate but the machines are easy to malfunction because they're so old..." she mumbled awkwardly.

"Hope you know how to do that 'cos I don't... c'mon, let's get out of here. It's best if we keep moving!"

He made to start weaving through all of the trash but halted when he realized his were the only footsteps. The girl stood, hands weaved together and frowned at him lightly. He paused and turned.

"What's wrong..?" he asked, concerned.

"It's just... I don't know you. And yet, you're being quite kind. I'm overwhelmed..."

"Well, now is no time for nastiness but I wouldn't be anyway. If it... makes you feel better, my name is Hope. Hope Estheim. And, since we're in the same boat, maybe we should stick together until we're safer. Two's company, right?"

"... I'm Fiala," she replied weakly and looked overhead as drones stormed by. She looked back at Hope and nodded. "Hang on," she said, ducking down and going back into her hiding hole for a moment before emerging with a small metallic spear. "For... for fighting, and protection... you know?"

Hope nodded and smiled slightly, inclining his head towards an opening. Fiala hooked her spear through her belt, tip pointing down and followed his lead.