Chapter One
Lightning knew she shouldn't be worried, but she was nonetheless. Which was a recipe for disaster, given the state of her emotional maturity. She supposed that, on one hand, she should give her parents credit for dealing with her as well as they did, while on the other, she simply didn't view any of their comforts as good enough.
But such sentiments were hard to voice when she only had the acumen of a three-year-old. While her thoughts were plagued by the memories and nightmares of the old world, her present self was limited to the development of a child. Which she understood, but it was a weight that existed in the back of her mind nonetheless.
"Everything is going to be alright, Claire. There's no need to be so upset." Her father was saying such things over and over again, holding her against his chest while rubbing her back comfortingly. She tried not to cry, but the efforts were mostly futile. Fat tears trickled down her cheeks, which she ignored as she laid her head upon his shoulder. Gripping his shirt in tight fists, she tried not to imagine the worst, but ultimately couldn't succeed.
"A little sister isn't something to be so upset about," her father went on murmuring, Lightning only half listening. It wasn't the thought of a little sister that had her upset, or even the distress her mother was going through in trying to deliver that little sister into the world. Rather, what she feared was that said little sister would be the wrong little sister.
She had the same parents, certainly, but did that guarantee she'd end up with the same sister? When she could be at her most rational, which wasn't often with the body and brain of a toddler, she could claim that it was likely given her parentage. But then the fear would surge up and she'd be reminded that there was no guarantee of fate or intention in anything. And even if there was, this new world didn't work the same as the old, not as far as she could tell.
Perhaps this new sister wouldn't be Serah. Perhaps this new life really was completely new and she'd have to live it with no comforts from the old. Instead, she'd be left with only the scars.
She was excited about her mother's baby, but also terrified.
These were the thoughts that flit through her young brain for hours, her emotional state making it nearly impossible for her father to leave her. But when it came time for the baby's delivery, he did leave her under the watch of a nurse just outside the delivery room door. Crying and crying, she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
When she was finally allowed in the delivery room, she was crying worse, clutching the nurse's hand despite how she despised the weakness of doing so. And she cried even more when her father gingerly picked her up and brought her up near the bed, where she could get a good look at the tiny bundle wriggling in her mother's arms.
She was afraid to look, but knew it was inevitable that she did.
And it was in the few slow seconds that she looked into that tiny, crinkled face that she knew her worries could be laid to rest. Crying in frustration and about whatever other discomforts babies did, was Serah. Her Serah, be she small once again.
Three years of her new existence Lightning had spent in a constant state of unease, accented by loneliness. But all of that seemed to fade away inside that delivery room. Serah was there with her—had been reborn at her side as was right—and that made her new existence far less daunting.
"See? Nothing to be worried about," her father murmured, rubbing her back as she sat on her knees beside her mother. "Everything turned out just fine."
Yes, Lightning decided as she reached out and allowed Serah to grab hold of her finger, holding tight. Yes, she supposed it had.
Lightning could tell within days of bringing Serah home that her sister was in much the same predicament she was. Reborn young and new with all the memories of the old. She could see it in the way Serah looked at her, or tried to. And how fussy she was, never happy about anything and always taking far too long to warm up to what normal babies preferred. She hated being fed, she hated being changed, she hated that she couldn't move. She tried not to cry, but gave in just as Lightning always did.
Her father said he "wasn't surprised" that Serah was difficult, even by baby standards. Lightning had been the same. They'd get through it.
Hoping to comfort Serah as much as possible, Lightning spent nearly every waking moment with her sister. She tried to help her mother, but supposed she got in the way more often than not. Yet she liked to think Serah preferred she be there, even if they couldn't communicate. Yet.
Time would tell.
Though she was difficult at first, Serah seemed to give into the inevitable eventually. Which her parents were grateful for. Even to that day, Lightning was difficult to manage at times. But leave it to Serah to adapt to their reality with a sort of acceptance that Lightning struggled with every day. She eventually came to be a very happy baby, more focused on trying to talk and walk than any infant really ought to be.
"You were the same way," their mother would say when Lightning was trying to teach Serah new words. "Always wanting to learn more and as much as possible."
Which was understandable. The faster they learned, the faster they could make it in this new world. But learning things anew was much like learning a new language. Even if they both knew what they were trying to say, they couldn't always articulate it properly. Which was probably best. A two-year-old walking around spouting grammatically correct sentences likely wouldn't do them any good.
"Look, look, big truck coming in!" Serah—now almost three—was yelling one day, bouncing up and down beneath the window. Always more apt to investigate than ignore, Lightning was at the window in moments, eye narrowed suspiciously.
"Looks like the new neighbors are here," their father said above their heads. His statement only had Lightning feeling even more suspicious, if only because she didn't trust anyone in the neighborhood. Not when she had to do the difficult task of getting Serah all the way to adulthood.
Darting away from the window, she ignored Serah's exasperated call and instead skidded into the kitchen. Her mother was there making dinner and, quiet as she could be, she waited until she'd turned toward the fridge before dashing up beside the counter. Using the drawer handles as a ladder, she clamored quickly up, deftly removed one of the steak knives from their holder, and jumped back down again. All without her mother even noticing she was there.
That was the third time that week. She was getting good.
Keeping the knife out of sight, she skirted her way out the front door. Hopping down the single concrete step, she ignored the side-walk leading out to the street and instead bee-lined it across the yard to the finely-trimmed bushes that divided their house from the one next door. Ignoring how the branches tried to claw at her bare legs, she slipped through the bushes toward the other side. Getting down on her stomach, she army crawled through the dirt until she was able to make out what was happening next door.
Sure enough, there was indeed a large truck backing up the driveway. New neighbors, as her father had surmised. There was a woman as well, standing on the narrow deck and watching as the movers backed closer and closer to the house. She was small, light colored hair. But other than that, Lightning could make out no defining features.
She'd have to get a closer look, no doubt. Find out all she could about these people. Maybe she could get their backgrounds checked, if she could get their full information…
"What're you doin' out here?"
Hissing, Lightning turned onto her side and held her knife up threateningly. But though he appeared displeased with her reaction, Snow didn't back away. Instead, he continued to push his way through the brambles until he was crouching down beside her.
"Go away," she issued quietly, before turning her attention back to the movers.
"Your dad said you ran out here. You spying?" he asked, sounding almost excited at the prospect. Settling down in the dirt beside her, he kicked his legs up and nearly gave away their cover when he got his pant-leg stuck in the bush.
"I'm surveying," she explained quietly. "Now go away." She didn't need Snow there clogging up her reconnaissance. It was bad enough he only lived across the street and four houses down, which meant he was over at their house all the time. Eating lunch, watching cartoons, teaching Serah words she had no business knowing yet. He was quite the hindrance a good majority of the time and Lightning had little use for him.
Also, he was loud.
"Surveying what? What'd these people ever do to you?"
She shushed him, brandishing the knife once again. He frowned, but fell silent, which allowed Lightning the concentration she needed to watch. The movers were opening the truck now. She needed to get closer and see what was inside. Did these movers have the proper licensing to do what they were doing?
"I don't like it," she admitted quietly.
Snow snorted. "You're so dramatic."
"Excuse me?" she said, very much offended. "I more certainly am not."
"No six-year-old talks like that."
She kicked him in the leg.
"Yes, that should be good." It was the woman that spoke. She'd come down off the deck and seemed to be directing the movers in one fashion or another. She was a slight woman, but appeared confident in her posture. Lightning could respect that.
"Hey, wait a minute…" Snow stiffened beside her, lip pooching thoughtfully. Thinking took quite a bit of effort, no doubt. "I know her."
"You do not," Lightning replied shortly.
"I do!" he claimed before abruptly crawling forward out of the bushes, thus giving away their position.
"Snow!" Lightning hissed, reaching out to stop him. Her fingers only skimmed his pant-leg, however. Swearing to herself, she watched helplessly as he scrambled to his feet before jogging up toward the front of the house.
Certainly, this couldn't end well. She'd better do something.
Supposing any discretion was now for naught, Lightning impaled her knife in the dirt (she'd only brought it for stealth operations, as any adult that happened to spot her with it would likely attempt to disarm her, which could only end badly) before scooting forward out of the bushes as well. Jumping quickly to her feet, she sprinted after Snow. She wanted to stop him before he was seen, but she was just barely too late. He'd rounded the corner to the front of the house just as she was reaching for the back of his t-shirt.
"Heyo!" he shouted in the same moment, Lightning flinching as the woman in question jumped and whipped around to face them.
"Um, hello?" she said questioningly, clearly surprised to see two six-year-olds prancing through her yard.
"You just movin' in?" Snow asked, sauntering right into the driveway and up in front of her.
It was the worst case scenario, Lightning decided. Scowling, she gave the whole scene a quick once-over—making sure to glare threateningly at the movers—before she stomped her way up beside Snow. Slamming her hands across her chest, she stared straight ahead, not the least bit fazed. Showing weakness would only make her more vulnerable.
"Er, yes, just today," the woman explained. "Do you two live around here?"
"I live in the blue house down the street," Snow explained, gesturing to the west, "and Lightnin- I mean, Claire here lives next door."
How dare he give away such vital information. Lightning was absolutely fuming.
"Oh, is that so?" The woman smiled. It was a soft, gentle expression, but Lightning did not give in to its welcoming aura. "It's good to know there are kids in the neighborhood. I had hoped there would be. How old are you two?"
"I'm six, I guess." Snow shrugged noncommittally. "So's Lightning."
"Lightning?"
"Er, Claire." He grinned. "Sorry, nickname."
"I'm almost seven," Lightning added darkly. It was important Snow remember she was older than him.
"Six and seven." The woman hummed. "Do either of you have any younger brothers or sisters?"
"Lightning has a little sister that's three," Snow volunteered, which had Lightning groaning in exasperation.
"Oh, that's wonderful." The woman smiled wider. "And right next door too."
Snow quirked a questioning eyebrow. "You like kids or something?"
She laughed. "I like to think I'm fond enough of them," she replied. "But mostly I just hope that maybe my baby and the neighbors can be friends. It was the whole point in us deciding to get a place in the suburbs."
"You have a baby?" Lightning asked.
"I will soon," she explained, before placing her hand on her belly. "I'm three months pregnant."
Gasping, Snow abruptly snapped his fingers. "I got it!"
"Got what?" Light snapped irritably.
"Uh, I mean…" Snow shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, I get it. Your baby can be friends with Serah, Lightning's sister."
"I would like that," the woman replied. "Very much."
"Yeah, Serah's super nice," Snow went on. "And we can be friends with your baby too! Even though we're older."
Lightning couldn't believe she was getting roped into this.
"That would be lovely!" The woman crouched down so she was more on their level. "So it's Claire—or Lightning—and her sister, Serah," she nodded in Lightning's direction, "and your name?"
"Oh, right! I'm Snow!"
"Snow, how nice."
"What's your name?" he asked, before interrupting her just as she was about to speak. "Wait! I bet I can guess."
Lightning snorted and rolled her eyes, knowing Snow was up to something based on the tiny smirk pulling at his lips. She should just go home—this was clearly a pointless endeavor.
"Oh really?" the woman sounded doubtful. "Okay."
"Hmm…" Snow tapped his chin with his finger. "You look like a… Cheri?"
"No."
"Maybe… Mary?"
"Nope."
"Wait!" Snow winked then. "I got it."
She waited, and Lightning died a little inside.
"Your name…" he took a deep breath for effect, "is Nora."
"Of all the ridiculous things you could-"
"Wow." The woman's wonder cut right through Lightning's scolding. "You got it."
Snow grinned. "I knew I could."
"Nora?" Lightning asked, before the realization of who she was looking at struck her. Blinking owlishly, she looked from the woman's face to her belly and back to her face again. Silver hair, soft features, turquoise eyes.
She'd been fearful when her sister had been born—scared that things wouldn't be right. But Serah was with her, and then Snow had barged his way into their life.
The odds were on her side it would seem.
"Yes, I'm Nora." She held her hand out for Snow to shake, which he did after only a moment's hesitation. "Nora Estheim."
Hope's mother.
All of Lightning's misgivings dropped away like dead leaves. "You're pregnant?" she found herself asking despite already knowing the answer. But she was just a bit shocked over the whole thing, even if excitement also trilled in her stomach.
"Yes, I am," Nora affirmed, once again placing a hand on her belly. "It took a lot of work and faith, but I am going to have a baby. We've made it through so far…" She appeared abruptly sad. "My small, baby Hope."
Gritting her teeth in determination, Lightning pointed up at her. "You'll make it. And him too! You'll see!"
Nora appeared taken aback by her declaration, but not offended.
"And I'll make sure he's safe when he comes," she went on. "I'll protect him just like I do Serah."
"Yeah!" Snow pumped his fist in agreement.
Nora smiled again. "That's very nice of both of you."
"Claire! Snow!"
It was Lightning's mother that called, startling both kids into turning back the way they'd come.
"You'd better head back," Nora said, standing straight in the same moment. "I'm sure we'll see each other soon."
"We will," Lightning guaranteed, before she and Snow turned to head back through the bushes. Snow waved, Lightning too filled with her own thoughts to think to do so. But she did pause after a few steps and turn back. She met Nora's gaze, before once again looking to her belly.
Darting back over, she went right up to Nora and placed her small hand on her stomach. Ignoring Nora's gasp of surprise, she stared hard at her sweater. As if she might be able to look right through it.
"You'd better come out soon," she muttered, as if she could will it with her own determination. "I'll keep you safe, partner."
She stood there for only a second longer before sparing Nora one final look and turning to dash after Snow.
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I've never done a childhood friends story. This should be fun. Leave reviews if you can, I doubt this story will get much attention.