Foolhardy Farron
On a cold, quiet afternoon when the graying sky engulfed the sun, Lightning ventured down a hidden mountain path and happened upon a secluded beach. A strong wind blew past her, pulling her cape out to wave like a flag as she neared a lone tree that overlooked the murky water. Its leaves had long fallen and its branches resembled long, crooked fingers reaching up to reach the lost sun. She leaned against the cracked trunk and closed her eyes as the howling wind blew harder against her face.
Her skin prickled as the cold air swept away its heat, and her once rosy lips turned pale. Yet it didn't bother her. Now her body could feel what she felt in her heart for too long a time. As the wind continued to suck out her warmth, Lightning released the floodgate holding back years of repressed thoughts and feelings.
A man popped into her head—one she tried hard to forget. "I don't need him anymore," she would think to herself and then force his memory to disappear. But nothing kept him buried anymore; one by one, all of her mental barriers fell and painful memories surged to strike her heart.
Lightning clenched her jaw, either to keep her teeth from chattering or to stop herself from screaming. The frigid, murky tide sprayed water across her face as a gust of wind sheared through it. Droplets streaked down her cheeks.
"You'll catch pneumonia if you keep this up, you know."
Lightning's eyes went wide. Her breath hitched, and she slowly turned her head to where a man stood just a few feet next to her. Almost the size of Snow, he had to look down to make eye contact with Lightning. The brim of his fedora shielded his face until he propped it out of the way. His long, white scarf waved like a cape in the wind, and raindrops streamed down his brown bomber jacket, leaving him warm and unfazed by the acclimating weather.
With the cold numbing her body, Lightning could do little else but stare at him in awe.
"No, you're not dead," said the man. "Not yet, anyway. I know you love the beach, honey, but coming here to lounge around during a tropical storm isn't the smartest thing you've ever done." He took a couple of steps closer, unzipping his jacket and slipping free of it. "Come now; let's get you all warmed up, eh?"
The man held up his jacket for Lightning, but she flinched away and reached for her Gunblade.
"What are you?" she asked, fighting to keep her teeth from chattering. "A fiend? A ghost? A hallucination?"
"I am what I am, Claire—"
"Don't you say that name!" Anger rushing through her veins to warm her, Lightning unsheathed her Gunblade and made to slash the man, stopping the blade flush against his neck. She looked into his face, scowling at his calm eyes and smug smile. "You're not my father!"
"How can you be so sure?"
"Jack Farron is dead."
"Although that's true, it doesn't mean I'm not him."
Lightning clenched her jaw and forced the blade harder against her target. "Give me a real answer or I'll do it. I swear I'll do it!"
Jack continued to smile despite the threat. "Go ahead and do it, then," he replied. "Just promise me you'll run home into a warm bath the second you do. Maybe even make yourself a warm cup of tea and huddle next to a heater with your sister, because, honey, let me tell you: crying your heart out alone in the cold isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"How dare you!"
The clouds overhead turned black and started to downpour. Thunder rumbled through the skies, ushering in another gust of powerful wind that blew past Lightning and her cornered visitor.
"Better make up your mind fast," Jack shouted over the storm. "It's only going to get worse!"
Though her feet struggled to stay firm in the sand, Lightning her position. Her free arm shielded her from the wind while she struggled with the other to keep her Gunblade steady. The strong winds and raindrops bombarded her eyes until she could barely see even while squinting. Her short burst of energy drained and Lightning's knees buckled. But Jack caught her just as she fell.
"Let's get out of here!" he cried, and tugged her towards a nearby cave.
The second they stepped inside, Lightning tore her hand free and again held up her Gunblade. But it wobbled in her grasp as her vision started to blur and an incessant itchiness in her chest and throat sent her into a coughing fit. With her defenses down, Jack was able to finally wrap his jacket around her.
"You've really grown," he said in admiration. "I remember when this thing used to bury you."
Lightning instinctively pulled the jacket tighter and snuggled into its familiar softness. When she realized her actions, another coughing fit stopped her from altogether tossing it to the side. She sniffled a bit as she reached to pick the Gunblade from where it had fallen.
"I'm not finished with you," Lightning said in a congested voice. But her words touched no one. Jack had vanished.
Heart racing, Lightning shoved the weapon back into its holster and jogged back to the cave entrance. Outside, the storm continued to batter the shore, and Lightning's panicked eyes trained across it in vain. The withered tree stood alone on the beach, losing several of its brittle branches as the wind whisked them away. Lightning hugged the jacket closer, reluctant to turn around and face the perpetual darkness awaiting her in the cave.
"Don't tell me you're thinking of going back out there again."
Lighting's heart skipped a beat. With bated breath, she turned her neck and squinted to see Jack approaching while whistling a sweet little tune. Flashing ruins carved into the walls lit his return from deep within the cave. He carried an armful of kindling that he dropped at his feet.
"Toss me my lighter and I can get a fire going. You remember where it is, right?"
Without a word, Lightning reached into the jacket's inside pocket and pulled out a silver lighter. She held it for a while, running her thumb across its sleek surface where it lingered on the engraving etched onto its side. Though she couldn't see it clearly, she could feel out the familiar shape. While she traced her nail along the grooves, one thought kept popping into her head: "This can't be real. He can't be real."
"Did you find it?" Jack was now standing in front of her. He touched his hand to hers, and this time, Lightning took the time to feel his warmth and she wished it had lasted longer than it did. "Ah, you got it! Thanks, honey." Jack took the lighter and cautioned his way back to the pile. After a few flicks, what began as a small flame flourished into a roaring campfire.
"Come sit down," Jack said as he patted the ground next to him.
With a sniffle and a cough, Lightning cautioned her way to the fire and eased herself to the ground. The warmth emanating from the flames spread over her chest and crept through her body until the numbness and tingling subsided.
The two sat in silence for a long time. Lighting held her hands up to the fire, still coughing on occasion. A river of thoughts rushed through her mind as she watched the dancing flames. Her eyelids soon grew heavy and her neck could no longer support the weight of her head. She offered no resistance when Jack wrapped his arm around her and gave his shoulder up as her pillow.
My earliest memory of my father is of a trip we had taken right before Serah was born. He took me camping near a cave he had discovered, where these strange markings flashed with a rainbow of colors depending on the song you hummed near them.
That night, our campfire songs must've triggered a set pattern, because the next thing we knew, smoke flew out of the cave followed by a squad of robots. He told me to hide, so I ran behind a large boulder and watched as he took a gun out from his rucksack only to turn it into a sword. The robots didn't stand a chance; his sword struck them like lightning. We were back sitting around the fire and eating marshmallows in no time.
I liked it so much that I asked him if we could do it again. I must've been crazy, but he was even crazier because he said "yes".
It's strange. I always thought he was invincible—that he was some kind of superhero who would always be there to hold me up with the strength of the world. But then I grew up, and I realized he was human just like everyone else. Superheroes don't exist.
When he died, my whole world fell apart. Mother grew ill, and Serah needed someone to protect her. My childhood ended with him. All of his responsibilities shifted onto my shoulders, and I had to make myself strong enough to carry that kind of weight.
My father was a reckless man. Even though he grew older and wiser, he continued to flirt with danger. "It's my job," he'd say, and he'd say it with pride. He loved what he did, and when I was young and foolish, I loved it too. I loved it until his job took him away from me.
Sanctum officials came to our door one night. I heard my mother weeping, and I rushed out of bed to see what was happening. I'll never forget that feeling; it was surreal, almost like a nightmare but at the same time, I felt detached from the whole thing. I didn't believe for a second that my father had been killed. I couldn't believe that. He always came home.
Always.
Those men were lying; they had to be, because my father always came home.
That's what I told myself, anyway. But I didn't stay in denial for long, not when they were lowering the casket.
When they buried my father, they buried Claire too. They just didn't know it yet.
Lightning awoke to the sound of a familiar tune. She remained motionless with her eyes half closed as she listened to her father hum. All around them, ancient glyphs and markings flashed with bright colors until her father paused to yawn. The colors faded until the only light in the cave came from the campfire.
"You're still here…" Lightning said as she lifted her head.
"Good morning to you, too, sunshine," Jack chuckled.
"You're not supposed to be here."
"Where's a father supposed to be if he's not shielding his daughter from the cold?"
"You know what I mean!" Lightning shrugged out of her father's one-armed hug and distanced herself from him.
Jack gave a self-spiting smile and readjusted the fedora on his head.
"All I want is for you to be happy and healthy. That's all I've ever wanted."
"You liar!" The words exploded from Lightning's mouth and echoed throughout the cave long afterwards.
The smug smile fell off her father's face as she glared at him with tearing eyes.
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
Lightning pounded a fist into the ground. "If you really wanted me to be happy, why did you continue risking your life like an idiot?" she snapped. Her eyes burned hotter than the fire. "They had a name for you around town: Foolhardy Farron. Everyone could see how reckless you were being. When I did a bust on an illegal gambling ring not too long ago, I found some old bookkeeping on how many bones you'd break on each mission. Everyone knew you'd be cut short; everyone except you. Tell me how I'm supposed to be happy when I had a father as stubborn and irresponsible as you?"
Jack fell quiet for some time but never let his gaze wander. The wrinkles on his scrunched forehead grew deeper and more defined the longer he watched his daughter fight back her tears. "Is that what you've thought of me all this time? You think I'm more in love with danger than my family?"
"Save any excuses! Your actions speak for themselves."
"You think me foolhardy? Isn't everyone?" Jack tossed another handful of kindling into the fire and watched it burn. "You can't expect to live without some kind of risks. We've all got a clock, Claire. It's always ticking. The problem is, we can't see where the numbers fall. That's why you have to make every second count."
"That doesn't mean you should provoke it!"
"Oh no? Even if you sit still to slow your own clock, you hasten the ones of those around you." Jack prodded the fire with a stick. "When you love someone with all your heart, you stop caring about your clock. The only thing that matters is your loved ones' safety."
"This coming from a man who got himself killed and doomed his family to despair," Lightning scoffed.
The fire crackled. One of the twigs exploded, scattering its embers across the cave. Their light punched holes in the darkness. "I delayed Dysley's plans."
Lightning's eyes widened. "What did you say?"
Jack looked up from the fire. "I killed the Pulse fal'Cie Ophiuchus, who was smuggled into Cocoon by Dysley. He had intended that the excavation team be branded and trained to herald in the new Ragnarok. But after so many years of researching Pulsian ruins, history, and lore, I recognized the trap before it was sprung. I gathered all our explosives and detonated the ruins from a distance, killing the fal'Cie inside without offering up anyone as a sacrifice.
"No one got the brand, and Dysley was furious. He personally executed my team before they could tell the tale, but I got away. My finger was itching to pull the trigger with the barrel right next to his pale, fat head. I didn't get too far into Eden before PSICOM fell on me like a hammer. I'll spare you the gory details. Suffice to say whatever you heard about my life and death are flat-out lies."
Lightning stared transfixed at her father. "They said there was a cave-in."
"I'll bet they did," Jack grunted.
"We visited it when Mother was still healthy, and laid flowers there…"
Jack gave a small smile. "The thought's appreciated. I'm not here to place any blame on you, honey. Just clearing the air."
"Then all this time…" At a loss for words, Lightning closed her eyes and the tears she fought relentlessly to hold back streamed down her cheeks. "How did you know Dysley was out for you?"
"I didn't. I recognized the fal'Cie markings and knew we were playing with fire. I couldn't let a Pulse fal'Cie escape. Whenever we found something potentially lethal, like ancient mechs or weapons, it was SOP to blow them sky high. But I had no way of knowing how far up the ladder such a conspiracy went, let alone that there was a conspiracy to begin with."
"If you didn't know, why didn't he let you walk?" Lightning clenched her fist. "You couldn't name him; you should've walked!" she shouted as the hot tears continued to flow.
Jack sighed and tossed the last of the kindling to feed the fire. "I knew too much about other things—about Gran Pulse and Ragnarok; about Cocoon and Orphan. I think that's the real reason my team and I were set up to fall. I could've published volumes with all the knowledge I held after coming out of that last dig."
"Dammit all!" Lightning repeatedly punched the ground until her whole arm tingled. She went to switch hands, but her father took it in his.
"Stop." Taking the tail end of his scarf, Jack dabbed his daughter's face dry. "You've shed enough tears. Time to smile."
"How can I?"
"It's easy. Just watch Daddy." Jack flashed her a cheesy grin, to which she couldn't help but laugh at.
"Stop patronizing me," she said with a small smile as she gave him a playful punch with her still-numb hand.
"Don't question my methods; they work."
"Yeah." Lightning sniffled and wiped away one last stray tear. She looked at him fondly as the dying fire flickered across his face, and leaned into him when he reached to wrap his arm around her. Her energy dwindled, replaced by a newfound weariness and she closed her eyes. "You won't leave again, will you?" she asked after a long while.
Jack placed a soft kiss on his daughter's head and hugged her closer. "I've never left you, Claire, and I never will."
The fire ate the last twig and darkness enveloped the cave, but Lightning remained warm and secure.
"Hey, Sis! Wake up!"
Lightning groaned as an energetic hand shook her shoulder. She lifted her head from off a desk littered with papers and scowled at Snow. "I'm not your sister!"
"Not officially until this weekend, at least!" Snow grinned.
"Tch." Lightning gave him the eye, though that hardly dampened his spirits. He was as chipper as ever, even with a fresh new gash across his chin. "How'd you get that?"
"What, this little nick here? Some kids were playing in the construction zone. Pushed 'em out of the way of a weak support beam."
"And what if that beam collapsed on you? I won't let my sister marry a corpse."
Snow couldn't help but laugh. "Hey, I fell off a building and hauled an unconscious kid all the way to his house with a chest full of broken ribs. I think I can handle some steel beams and stray rods."
"Just don't go making a habit of it."
"As long as there's someone to save, a hero's gotta do his job." To his surprise, Lightning didn't punch or scold him. She actually hummed in accordance. "What, no lecture on how Serah needs someone more reliable and less likely to get killed in action rather than come home five hours late due to heavy traffic?"
Lightning though for a moment, involuntarily stroking her fingers across the rough cover of a book lying on her desk. "You're a brick-headed, giant battering ram who has no regard for authority and who loses more blood than could hope to fill a lake. You throw your body around to shield everything that breaths, and you don't know the meaning of the words 'give up'. I can't think of anyone more suited to be with Serah."
"Wow..." Snow's mouth hung agape. "That's...I didn't expect that. Thanks, Sis. I'll do you proud." He gave Lightning a fond pat on the shoulder. "Heh, I guess I'm growing on you, huh?"
"Don't push your luck." With a tinge of pink in her cheeks, Lightning smacked away his hand and eyed a nearby digital clock. "It's that late already?"
"No kidding! I wanted to check up on you when you didn't show for breakfast, but Serah figured you'd pull an all-nighter sifting through these reports. She said I'd get a fist to the jaw if I'd wake you up any later than noon."
"You could learn a thing or two from her on sibling etiquette," Lightning said off-hand as she organized the scattered files and documents.
"Hey, I'm trying," Snow said in earnest as he leaned forward to get a peek at the files. Lightning flicked his forehead and he backed off. "So what had you up all night with your nose in the books? Anything fun? The more we learn about Pulse, the better we'll be able to rebuild."
Lightning paused with her hand over a battered, old journal that looked as if it had been saved from a fire. Adding to its illegibility, three bullet holes were spread out across the book.
"Sis?"
"Just some old excavation notes," she said eventually.
"Cool! Anything on Pulsian architecture? I was thinking maybe we should go for some authentic buildings to mix it up a bit in New Bodham."
"Yeah, because that idea's really going to fly with the conservatives."
Snow pounded a fist into his palm with a proud smirk. "Well, with us heroes protecting them, they'll just have to learn to be more open-minded!"
Lightning let out a sigh. "Hey, Snow; want to do your new sis a big favor?"
"I'll bet you want breakfast now, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Too bad, Sis. Serah's already whipping us up some lunch. But I'll go check to see if it's ready."
"You go do that," Lightning said while fingering the book. After Snow had gone, she flipped the journal open to the last entry. It was short and written in a hasty scrawl on a page with several bloodstains.
I never believed it would come down to something like this. This started as one of the greatest adventures of a lifetime and has turned into a harrowing nightmare. I've killed Cie'th, mechs, and monsters, and now a fal'Cie, all while thinking I was the hero. But that bastard Dysley tried to make me his patsy. I'm no tool for destruction. Sometimes the hero has to sacrifice everything for the greater good. If I'm going down, I'm taking Dysley with me. I'll throw everything into the pot if it means making the world safer for my children. I'll make sure Dysley never has the chance to—
A bullet hole cut off the end of the sentence, but Lightning figured it went to describe Dysley's plan to summon Ragnarok or whatever. It didn't matter. Dysley was dead…and so was Jack.
Lightning closed the journal and stared at its beaten and scorched cover. Her gaze then drifted to the open window where the sun shined brightly over the planet's luscious green vegetation.
"Us heroes, huh?" she wondered aloud, mimicking Snow's words. "Then I'm just as foolhardy as the rest."
Lightning smiled.
A/N: I'm not sure what to make of FFXIII-2; I wrote this story as my own conclusion to Lightning's personal story, since I doubt I'll be satisfied with whatever Square has planned. They have a habit of churning out unsatisfactory sequels and spin-offs.
I had actually written most of this in September, but never found the time to go back and finish it. It lay forgotten until I was organizing one of my main story directories. Better late than never, I suppose. Not that there was any rush.