A/N: A big thanks to Esklera for letting me use her wonderful dark!Hope headcanons for this fic. I also integrated some of Shadowmeowth's post-LR headcanons into this fic, so a big thanks to her too.
I
Lightning takes a deep breath before stepping off the train. She's been postponing this moment for a long time now, and she has to admit she's a lot more nervous than she thought she would be.
The wind plays with her hair as she walks across the platform. It's a warm summer day in Alsace, and she almost feels like the world is standing still. She smiles to herself. I'm finally here, she thinks, tucking a strand of hair behind ear. We'll finally be together again.
It's been over a year since she last saw him. He's the one she wanted to see the most, but she still couldn't bring herself to meet him. When Hope saved her from the chaos, she finally realized what the rest of the gang had known for years. Hope Estheim was in love with her—still is, according to Serah. Lightning knew she had a lot of things to figure out before she could go and see him, so she stayed away. Now, her mind is made up. She's finally ready to meet him again.
He's waiting for her right outside the hotel, wearing a white shirt and slacks. His face lights up in a beautiful smile the moment he sees her.
"Light!" he says, hurrying towards her. "You're finally here."
He stops a couple of steps away from her, hesitating.
"Hope." She smiles at him and closes the distance between them to give him a hug. "It's been way too long, hasn't it?"
"Way too long."
He wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly. She can't help but blush when he burrows his nose in her hair and takes a deep breath. He's taller than me, she realizes. It shouldn't come as a surprise after all the times she watched him from Valhalla, but it still does. She leans against him, savoring every moment. The year she spent without him, she always felt like something was missing. Now, she finally feels complete again. This is how things are supposed to be, she thinks. We're supposed to be together.
"Why didn't you come see me?" he asks her in a low voice. "You visited everyone but me. Do you have any idea how painful that was? How worried I was? You said we'd be together, Light. Why didn't you come see me?"
"I'm sorry," she replies, pulling back a little so she can meet his eyes. "I had to figure some things out before I came to see you. Things about me . . . and you."
"I see." He looks at her with curiosity and a hint of fear in his eyes. "What did you come up with?"
She swallows hard. "I'm still not sure what I feel about this. About us. I'm not good at this whole . . . love thing." She looks down on the ground. "All I know is that I want to be with you. I missed you so much, Hope. I missed hearing your voice. I missed having you watching my back. I . . ." Her voice grows thick, and her vision starts to blur. She wipes the tears away, embarrassed with herself.
"Light." He cups her face in his hands and tilts her head back. "Light, look at me."
Reluctantly, she raises her gaze and meets his eyes again. Where they always that green? she wonders as she stares up at him. The hint of fear in his eyes is gone, replaced by pure, unconditional love.
"If you want me to be your friend, that's what I'll be," he says, smiling warmly. "If you want something more . . . I'd love that, too. I'll be whatever you want me to be, as long as I get to stay by your side. I love you, Light. I just want to be with you."
Before Lightning even knows what she's doing, she's already up on her tip-toes and pressing her lips against his. Hope tentatively kisses her back, as if he can't believe it's actually happening. She smiles against his lips and wraps her arms around his neck. Before she kissed him, she hadn't been sure, but now she knows. She's in love with him. She probably has been for a very, very long time. This is how things are supposed to be, she thinks. We belong together.
II
It doesn't take long before Lightning notices that there's something different about Hope. She can't really put her finger on it, but she knows there's something . . . wrong. The others can't see past the charming smile he always gives them, but she knows him well enough to see his true feelings. It's not that he dislikes the others in the gang—he simply doesn't care about them. He smiles at them and talks with them like he always has, but beneath the surface, he's completely indifferent. The only person he seems to genuinely care about is her.
Maybe there's still a part of Bhunivelze in him, she thinks as Hope walks her to the door of her apartment after a dinner at Serah's and Snow's place. Maybe the trauma damaged him beyond repair. She knows she has no right to judge him. Being used by Bhunivelze changed her too.
She looks up at the man walking next to her, the Hope Estheim that isn't really Hope Estheim. He looks just like he used to, as handsome as ever, but there really is something different about him. It worries her.
"Is something bothering you?" she asks as they come to a stop outside her door.
"No," he replies, raising his eyebrows. "Why?"
"It's just . . ." She pauses for a moment, hesitating. "You don't seem to care about the others anymore. Not even Vanille. Did something happen?"
He blinks in surprise. "I care about them."
She shakes her head. "No, you don't. Don't do this, Hope. You can fool them, but you can't fool me."
Hope sighs, and for a brief moment, he lets go of the façade. She sees something cold and calculating flicker in his eyes, but it all disappears when he turns to her. He lifts his hand and gently caresses her cheek. Her heart skips a beat.
"I care about you," he murmurs. "Isn't that enough?"
Lightning wants it to be enough. She really, really does. It was always us against the world anyway, she thinks as she grabs his tie and pulls him inside the apartment. They leave a trail of scattered clothes behind them as they make their way into the bedroom. She lies down on the bed and pulls him down on top of her. When she tries to catch his lips for yet another fiery kiss, he suddenly pauses.
"Are you sure?" he says in a strained voice.
She nods. "I'm sure."
He gives her a warm, loving smile—the genuine kind of smile only she gets to see. "I'm the luckiest man on the planet."
When he finally touches her, his hands are gentle. Frustratingly gentle. She tries to switch their positions, but he places a hand on her shoulder and carefully, gently, pushes her back down on the mattress.
"Please," he says, "don't rush this."
He continues to trail butterfly kisses down her neck while his hands roam over her skin. Her breathing quickens, and she feels like she's about to lose all control over her body. How can he stay so calm? she wonders, glancing at Hope. He's kissing her chest now, as slowly and as gently as he kissed her neck. His eyes are burning with desire, but he touches her as if she was made of glass.
"I'm not going to break, you know," she mumbles.
He smiles again, but this time, there's sadness in his eyes. "I could never forgive myself if I let you get hurt again. I just want to make you feel good, Light." He rises up and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. "Please, let me make you feel good."
She nods again and hopes he doesn't notice the blush on her cheeks.
He places his hands under her thighs and hooks her legs over his shoulders. Then, he pauses again, mere inches from where she wants him the most. "Is this . . . is this okay?"
She groans in frustration. "If you don't do something right now, I'm going to kick your damn ass."
Lightning soon finds that Hope, despite his frustrating gentleness, really knows how to make her feel good. He may not care about other people, but he truly cares about her. It's enough, she tells herself. It has to be enough.
III
She's never loved anyone the way she loves him. The love she feels for him is different from the familial love she feels for Serah. She was always dependent on her sister, but not like this. Not like she's dependent on Hope. Just thinking about being without him hurts. She thinks about it sometimes when she's cradled in his arms at night, about how much she needs him to function. His smell calms her, and she loves falling asleep to the sound of his breaths. With his arms wrapped around her, she feels safe. Protected. She knows that nothing bad could ever happen to her when she's sleeping in his bed. He would make sure of that.
She rarely sleeps at her own apartment anymore. It's not because I can't sleep without him, she tries to convince herself. I sleep at his place because I want to, not because I have to.
Hope suddenly stirs in his sleep, and his grip around her body tightens. It doesn't surprise her. It's not the first time she witnesses one of his nightmares, and she knows it won't be the last.
"Please don't leave me," he mumbles. "Please, don't leave me here with him. Please!"
"It's okay, Hope. It's just a dream." She turns around in his arms and begins to slowly stroke his hair, just like she always does when he's having his nightmares. "I'm here."
His body starts to shake. "Please," he whispers over and over, "please don't go."
Lightning continues to stroke his hair until he finally opens his eyes. He looks disoriented for a moment, but then he sees her.
"You're here," he states.
"Yes."
He carefully raises his hand and touches her cheek. "You're real."
She smiles. "Yes."
He wraps his arms around her and holds her even tighter than before. She rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes. His pulse continues to race for a couple of minutes, but eventually, it returns to its usual rhythm.
"Tell me you won't leave me again," he says in a hoarse voice. "Tell me you'll stay this time. I . . . I don't know what I'd do if you left me again."
There's a dangerous tone in his voice, but she chooses to ignore it. She finds it easier to just ignore things like that than to actually accept just how much he has changed.
"I'll stay," she says. "I promise."
He kisses the top of her head, and soon, he's already gone back to sleep. She lies awake a little while longer, listening to the sound of his breaths. He's not the Hope he used to be, but it doesn't matter. She still loves him.
A part of her wonders if she could really bring herself to leave him even if she wanted to.
IV
After living with Hope for a couple of months, Lightning begins to notice a pattern. A strange, slightly worrying pattern. Sometimes, when she tells him about her day, weird things happen. Most of the things are just small and insignificant, like the time she tells him about a rude waitress at her favorite café and finds that she's been fired the very next morning. A coincidence, she thinks. It's just a coincidence. Another time, she tells him about the guy she's been chatting with at the gym. The guy complimented her training routines, and since it made her feel proud, she shares the story with Hope. The next time she sees the guy at the gym, he's sporting a black eye and a broken nose. He refuses to even look at her. Coincidences, she tries to convince herself. Just coincidences.
The strange incidents start to pile up, but she still refuses to think of them as anything other than just coincidences. If she did, she would have to accept that her boyfriend isn't who she thinks he is, and that's something she simply can't bring herself to do. How could she? He's Hope. Her Hope. He wouldn't beat someone up just for talking to her. Would he?
"How was your day?" he asks her as they sit down at the dining table.
She hesitates.
"Didn't you have that interview for officer training today? How did it go?"
She fixes her eyes on the plate. "Not well."
"Hey." He gets up from his chair and kneels down next to her, taking her hands in his. "What happened? Talk to me."
She glances down at him. He's looking at her with worry in his eyes, worry and care and love. What am I doing? she asks herself. He just wants to hear about my day. What am I waiting for?
"The colonel said I wasn't qualified," she finally says. "I only graduated high school. According to him, that's not enough. If that was the case, I'd be fine with it, but I know it's not true. I know some of the guys who got in, and they have the same credentials as me." She clenches her fists. "I don't know if it's because I used to be the savior or if it's just because I'm a woman, but that man will never accept me. It doesn't matter how good I am—that man has already decided that I'm not qualified. It's just so . . . frustrating." She sighs. "I really wanted to become an officer. I'm not sure what to do now."
Something cold and menacing flickers in Hope's eyes. Before she can stop herself, she's jerked her hands away from him. The look in his eyes immediately disappears, as if it never existed in the first place.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs before taking her hands again. He lifts them up and kisses her knuckles, one by one, until her hands relax again. "I just hate seeing you upset like this. Is there anything I can do?"
She shakes her head. "I don't think there's anything anyone can do. I guess I just have to find a new career."
He stands up and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Don't give up just yet. I'm sure there's still a chance that the colonel changes his mind."
A couple of days later, Lightning receives a phone call from a different colonel, calling her in for another interview. When she's waiting outside the colonel's office, she can't help but overhear the loud receptionist talking on the phone.
"Yeah, I heard he had a nervous breakdown," the receptionist says. "From what I've heard, they found him on the balcony, covered in blood. That poor man. Apparently, there were shallow cuts all over his body, and they found the knife on the ground beneath the balcony. It's not like we haven't seen it before, but I never suspected him of having problems with PTSD. They say he kept mumbling something about a silver-haired man, but the shrinks think it was just a hallucination." She glances at Lightning and lowers her voice. "I'm sure this is why he declined that woman's application. His mental health must have been failing for quite some time."
Lightning stands up and rushes into the ladies' room. She collapses on the floor, feeling sick to her stomach. It can't have been him, she thinks. He wouldn't do something like that. He's Hope. My Hope. He wouldn't . . .
But he would. She knows he would. No matter how much she's tried to ignore all the signs, the truth has still managed to find its way into her mind. Hope would do something like that if it thought it would make her happy. He would do anything for her.
He's the one who did this, she thinks, and he did it because of me.
A couple of minutes later, she leaves the bathroom and goes back to the colonel's office. The new colonel apologizes on her colleague's behalf, saying that the former colonel must have made a mistake when he looked at her credentials. Lightning smiles politely, even though she feels like she's about to cry. She signs the necessary papers, and after that, she returns home. When she opens the door to the apartment, Hope is waiting for her in the hallway. He's wearing an apron, and judging by the smell coming from the kitchen, he's already started making dinner. He looks like the most picture-perfect boyfriend in the world.
"How did it go?" he asks, looking at her curiously as if he doesn't already know.
"It went well." She gives him a halfhearted smile. "I'm going to be an officer."
He tilts his head to the side. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
"It is." Her vision starts to blur, and she quickly wipe the tears away with the back of her hand. "I'm just tired."
Hope sighs and walks over to her. When he wraps his arms around her, she burrows her face in the crook of his neck. She takes a deep breath, savoring the familiar smell. Even though she knows what he's capable of, his presence still calms her down.
"It's okay," he murmurs, stroking her back. "It's all going to be okay."
She loves him. She knows what he did, but she still loves him. The rational part of her brain screams at her to get as far away from him as she possibly can, but she ignores it. She's gotten really good at ignoring things like that.
"I love you," she whispers. "I really, really love you."
He kisses the top of head. "I love you too. More than anything."
She's glad he doesn't ask her any further about why she's crying. She can't exactly tell him that the reason she's crying is because she's helplessly, irrevocably in love with a sociopath.
V
"Is that it?" the sergeant sneers. "Is that all the savior has to offer?"
Lightning struggles against the two men who are keeping her pinned against the locker room wall. I should have seen this coming, she thinks. The three sergeants messed with her from day one, and every passing day, their stunts only got worse. That night, they managed to corner her in the locker room. I should have known they were planning something.
The sergeant grabs her hair and slams her head into the wall. "You stuck-up bitch. You might have been a savior then, but now, you're just a useless little girl. What are you going to do now, huh?" He punches her hard in the stomach. "I don't see any vengeful gods here to smite me. You're just a shitty little human, just like us."
"I'm human, but I'm not like you," she spits. "I'm a good soldier, which is more than can be said about you three."
The sergeant looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. He raises his hand and aims a punch towards her face, but the man holding her left arm stops him at the last second.
"Not the face," he hisses. "We talked about this. We only hurt her where no one can see it."
The sergeant nods, and then, the beating begins. Lightning suffers through it silently. She used to take beatings like this back in the Bodhum military training too, when men with fragile egos couldn't stand the thought of being defeated by a fifteen year-old girl. She knows that sooner or later, the beatings always end.
When the sergeants finally grow tired of their little game, Lightning's torso and thighs are covered in bruises. She doesn't think anything's broken, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell. I should have known that something like this would happen, she thinks as she slowly makes her way home. I get top grades while they're at the bottom of the class. Of course they're pissed. She smiles a little to herself despite the pain. The fact that they hate her so much only means that she's good at what she's doing.
When she opens the door to the apartment, Hope is waiting for her in the hallway with a deep wrinkle between his eyebrows.
"You're late," he states. "Did something happen?"
She shrugs with faked nonchalance. "Not really."
Hope can never know about this, she thinks. She doesn't even want to think about what he would do if he ever found out. After giving him a quick kiss on the lips, she tries to sneak past him. He grabs her wrist, and she winces from the pain.
"Are you hurt?" he asks her. He tries to roll up the sleeve of her sweater, but she stops him by grabbing his arm.
"It's nothing," she quickly says. "I messed up on one of the exercises. I must have sprained my wrist or something. Really, it's nothing."
"Then please, let me have a look." He pulls his arm out of her grip, and before she can stop him a second time, he's already pulled up her sleeve. There are five bruises on her wrist. Four of them are lined up in a row, and the fifth one, located about an inch beneath the rest of them, is slightly bigger than the others. There's no doubt about it—the bruises are obviously shaped after a hand. I must have gotten them when they pinned me to the wall, she thinks, glancing up at Hope. She shudders when she sees the look on his face.
"It was those three again, wasn't it?" he asks. His voice is calm and controlled, but his eyes are burning with fury. "What, exactly, did they do to you?"
"It's nothing, really, they just . . ." She doesn't know how to continue. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and for the first time in her life, she's truly afraid of Hope. She knows he would never, ever harm her, but she still fears him.
He tilts his head to the said and scans her from head to toe.
"Please don't hurt them," she whispers, but she doesn't think he can hear her.
"They thought no one would notice it, didn't they?" he mumbles before lifting the hem of her sweater. He freezes for a moment when he sees the bruises on her stomach. The façade drops. There's no warmth in his eyes anymore, not even the slightest hint of compassion. All she can see is pure hatred.
The moment passes and the façade pops back up again. He smiles at her and gives her a soft kiss on the forehead.
"I'll handle this," he tells her before grabbing both his and her keys from the hallway table. "Please, put some ice on those bruises. I'll be right back."
"Hope, wait!" She tries to chase after him, but it's already too late. He closes the door behind him and locks it from the outside. "Hope! Don't do this!" She slams the locked door with the palm of her hand. "Hope!"
It's no use. Hope is already gone. Her knees buckles and she sinks to the floor. He's going after them, she thinks. He's going to hurt them because of me. She considers trying to escape the apartment through a window or from the balcony, but since the apartment is on the 21st floor, she figures it wouldn't do her any good. She would never catch up with Hope in time anyway.
He wouldn't do things like this if it weren't for me, she realizes. As far as she knows, he's only attacked people who are associated with her in one way or another. If it wasn't for her, he might even be normal. I'm the one who makes him behave like this. I bring out the worst in him.
The realization is painful—way more painful than any of the bruises on her body—because it means that if she wants him to stop hurting others, she needs to get out of his life for good. She's going to have to leave him. The mere thought makes it hard for her to breathe.
Hope returns to the apartment a couple of hours later. Lightning crawls under the covers and pretends to sleep when he comes into the bedroom to check on her. He gently strokes her hair before disappearing into the bathroom. When she can hear the sound of the shower going, she carefully sneaks into the bathroom after him.
It's worse than she expected. A lot worse. The clothes he's left on the bathroom floor are drenched in blood. The white shirt he was wearing is now red. His pants are red. Even his wristwatch is stained with red.
She hurries back into bed, her eyes filling up with tears. Her whole body is trembling. What did he do to them? she wonders—but deep inside, she already knows.
Hope joins her in bed a couple of minutes later. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, burrowing his nose in her hair. His presence still calms her, and it nauseates her.
"What did you do?" she finally whispers.
"What I had to." His grip around her body tightens. "They'll never hurt you ever again."
"Did you . . ." She pauses for a moment, gathering strength. If she puts the question out in the open, there's no going back—but she still needs to know. She needs to be sure.
"Hope, did you kill them?"
He hesitates for a moment, and then he gives her the answer she dreads the most.
"Yes."
The next morning, Lightning packs her bags and leaves.
VI
She travels from town to town, from one motel room to the next, searching for something, anything, that could keep her from thinking about him every waking moment. London, Madrid, Berlin—she's been all around Europe, but her heart still won't stop aching. There's a hole within her where he used to be. I'm doing this for him, she thinks. I'm doing this because I love him. She often wonders how he's doing without her. She wonders if he'll ever get over her. A part of her wants him to be happy. Another part of her wants him to miss her as much as she misses him.
She keeps seeing him in the corner of her eye. She knows it has to be a figment of her imagination, that he can't possibly have followed her on her long journey, but her heart still races every time she catches a glimpse of something silvery.
"When are you coming home?" Serah often asks her when they talk on the phone. "I miss you, and little Claire would really like to meet her aunt."
"Not yet," she always replies. "I'm not ready yet."
So she continues to travel, searching for something, anything that could make her heart stop aching like this. It's almost as if time has stopped for her again, just like it did in Valhalla. Everyone else is moving forward, but she is once again stuck in an endless loop.
She's not sure what it is she's doing, but she knows it's not living.
VII
Lightning continues to live her barely-living life for months. She helps out wherever she's needed, regardless of whether she gets paid or not. Helping the police out in hostage situations, ending bar fights, saving children from burning buildings—it all gives her enough of an adrenaline kick to make her stop thinking about him for a while. It distracts her, and for a moment, her heart doesn't ache quite as much. It's something.
When she hears about a massive car crash on a nearby bridge in Stockholm, she's doesn't think twice before deciding to help out.
"I'm Sergeant Farron," she tells one of the paramedics when she arrives at the scene. "What happened? What can I do to help?"
"Drunk driver," he says with a thick Swedish accent. "At least a dozen injured. We've gotten all of the victims away from the bridge, but the driver is still stuck in his car. Parts of the bridge collapsed on top of his car. If we move him, everything might crash."
Lightning nods. "I'll get on it."
"Did you hear what I said?" the paramedic yells after her. "It's too dangerous!"
She ignores him and jogs up to the pile of metal and concrete in the middle of the bridge.
"Hey, are you alright in there?" she asks. She sticks her head through the broken window of the upside-down car. The man is hanging from the seat, still strapped to the seat by the seatbelt. A large metal pillar has pierced the windscreen and crushed right side of the front seat, mere inches from the unconscious drunken driver. She sighs. If she wants to get the driver out, she's going to have to climb in there.
She takes off her coat and crawls into the car through one of the backseat windows. The car roof creaks menacingly.
"This is why you don't drink and drive," she mutters to the driver. "You're lucky no one's died yet."
She places a hand on the man's neck. He's got a pulse, she thinks. Good. She manages to squeeze herself between the driver and the metal pillar. After releasing him from the seatbelt, she aims a kick at the front seat window and breaks it with her boot.
"Alright. Here we go." She shoves the driver out of the window. The paramedic she spoke with earlier catches him and puts him on a stretcher.
"Nice job, sergeant," he yells. "Now get out of there!"
The roof creaks again. She follows the driver out of the window as creaking sound gets louder and louder. Just when she's about to leave the car, she feels her foot get stuck on something.
"Are you alright in there?" the paramedic shouts.
"I'll be fine," she yells back. "Focus on the patient!"
She goes back into the car to free her foot. There's a big bulge in the roof now, and the creaking only keeps getting louder. She knows that if she doesn't get out soon, she's going to be crushed—and for some reason, that thought doesn't make her all that nervous. Would it really be that bad? she wonders. Would it really—
"Damn it, Light!" a male voice shouts, and suddenly, someone grabs her shoulders and pulls her out of the car. The car collapses milliseconds later. She could definitely feel something break in her foot when she was pulled out the window, but she's alive. Somehow, she's still alive.
"Why do you always do things like this? Damn it, Light!"
She looks up at her savior. "Hope . . . ?"
He cradles her in his arms, holding her tightly. "You were seriously just about to sacrifice your life for a drunken driver. I look away for one second and there you go again, running straight into mortal danger to save people you don't even know. Why? Why do you always care about everybody but yourself?"
"I . . . I don't know." She stares at him. He looks just like she remembers him. "How did you find me?"
He smiles at her and gently caresses her cheek. "I'm always looking out for you."
"So it wasn't just my imagination," she mumbles, still in shock. "I did see you."
"I tried to be discreet. I knew you didn't want me in your life anymore, so I tried to stay away." He lowers his eyes. "I don't know if I can do this anymore, Light. I . . . I need you. I need to be with you. I need to be close to you, to feel you. I need you by my side. If you leave again, I . . . Light, please come home."
Her control snaps, and she finds herself wrapping her arms around his neck. She burrows her face in the crook of his neck and finally feels like she's home.
"I missed you," she whispers. "I really, really missed you."
"Does that mean you'll stay with me?"
She knows what she should answer, but she can't bring herself to do it. She can't bring herself to leave him. Not again. Never again.
"Yes," she says. "I'll stay."
"Thank god," he murmurs before kissing her forehead. "Let's go and find a doctor to look at your foot."
He lifts her up and carries her away from the collapsed car. She clings to him, savoring the feeling of finally being in his arms again. We're supposed to be together, she thinks. This is where I belong.
A part of her would always wonder what Hope would have done if she had said no.
A/N: I just wanted to say that I'm not trying to glorify or romanticize this kind of relationship. The relationship I've described in this fic is about as unhealthy as it gets, and it shares a lot of traits with an abusive relationship. So yeah, this fic is not really meant to be romantic. It's more of a worst-case-scenario kind of fic.
I suspect that some people are going to disagree with my interpretation of Lightning in this fic. Most people want her to be stoic and independent, but considering her relationship with Serah, I actually think that she might be the kind of person who gets too emotionally dependent on other people.
This fic is very different from anything I've ever written before, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.
Love,
Cecilia