"When can I see Daddy?" Dajh asked as he flipped through the book, filled with colorful pictures of Chocobos. His little afro bobbed as he smiled at a particularly cute bird.
Jihl Nabaat suppressed a shudder, braced herself, before plastering a smile on her face as she turned to the boy. Through her glasses he stared back, short and rotund—entirely bothersome, but truly, truly valuable. That was the only reason she kept her temper. This was the fifth time in as many minutes the boy had asked for his father. She was tempted to tell him Sazh was one of the l'cie Dajh now tracked.
"Soon." Jihl said, soothingly. "Don't worry." Jihl's smile widened.
Dajh nodded, as if his little head was actually processing what she was saying.
"Now how about we get back to the dot game!" She heard a sound, a snicker, from the other side of the room. Jihl suppressed a curse. She had forgotten to dismiss the guards, who now witnessed her embarrassing coercion.
She tried to ignore them, almost pushing the boy to the navigational console. All the while she thought of what she would do to them once she was done with the boy.
"That one! That one!" the boy said, startling Jihl from her thoughts. "It's that one."
"The Lindblum," Jihl breathed. The Guardian Corps Calvary? Helping l'cie? Her confusion soon gave way to joy. Two birds with one stone. She could now settle old scores with the rival Guardian Core and fracture Pulse l'cie morale.
She allowed herself a small, real smile.
"What are you looking at?" Fang asked, turning to Lightning. "You've been staring at me for a long time."
"Nothing," Lightning replied, looking away. Snow lay in the other room, resting. Hope was with his father. She looked up, at an unfamiliar ceiling: Hope's home.
"Really? Nothing, huh?"
Lightning stiffened, feeling Fang's close proximity. Her skin prickled and her throat suddenly felt dry. She suppressed the strange reactions as she backed away carefully.
"Hey. Don't look at me like that," Lightning replied, eyes meeting Fang's.
"Why?" Fang grinned, her hands rising to her hips. "You're having such a good time ogling me. I thought I should pay you back."
Lightning looked away. She didn't feel like dealing with Fang. Besides, it wasn't like she wasn't like she was ogling. Was it really so perverted that her eyes traced circles around Fang's lithe form? Just because her eyes lingered in… odd places, didn't mean anything. She fought the foreign sensations down. If anything, she should be consumed with hate. It was her fault Serah was… no… that wasn't true.
"Ah. I know what this is about."
Lightning's eyes returned to Fang, whose grin widened. "You're thinking how unfair it was. You showed me but I didn't. Well it's not my fault my brand's on my arm."
Lightning cleared her throat, politely signaling her discomfort, not sure why she hadn't left or slapped Fang or turned away or kissed Fang or punched Fang or—Fang's hands fell to the formfitting top under her sari. She pulled it down for a second, giving Lightning a good long look, before pulling back.
Lightning burned inside—she was glad her cheeks still felt cool, but she knew she had looked for a moment too long. It would appear, she was "interested".
Fang grinned, sidling up close again. "I like you, Light."
Lightning prickled again. Why had she told Fang to call her that so soon?
"Strong, silent type, right? Wonder if you'll be quiet for this."
"Hey—"
Lightning saw Fang's closed eyes before contact, and then she too closed her eyes. She blinked when it ended, feeling embarrassed when she realized Fang had seen her with her eyes closed, reaching forward. She took a step backwards, mentally and physically distancing herself. Her lips felt weird.
"Sorry if this feels too forward. I don't normally try to get into peoples' pants this fast, but…" Fang trailed off. "I don't know how long this'll last so…"
Lightning took a step forward. Fang turned to meet her, letting the words die.
The door opened, Hope poking his head in. "Dinner—"
Cid Raines stared at Serah Farron with undisguised interest. Aboard the Lindblum, he found himself drawn to the girl encased in crystal, pulled by a morbid kind of fascination. This is what he would become if he fulfilled his Focus. A piece of crystal.
For the thousandth time he sent out another curse to Barthlandelus, for making him l'cie. So close to toppling the Sanctum, oh so painfully close. The brand on his arm blazed in his mind's eye. Do evil or become a monster.
The girl looked so serene in her stasis. Eternal. He quashed the vague thought of submitting to Barthlandelus. Easy for him: crystal stasis. The people of Cocoon….
He heard a scream, from somewhere far off. Then impact: everything trembled. The girl crashed into the far wall of the storage unit. Cid somehow managed to stay upright. He burst out of the unit, cape swirling behind him as he ran to the bridge, a sick feeling in his stomach that came mostly from the ship's rapid loss of altitude.
"Well, would you look at that," Sazh said, pointing into the night sky.
Vanille strained to see what had gotten the man's attention. There, in the inky night sky of Cocoon: a brilliant streak of light, falling.
"Make a wish," Vanille murmured softly. Luckily Sazh didn't notice, so engrossed with descending light.
Fang Vanille wished.
"All units return to last broadcasted base coordinates, repeat all units return. This is a code twelve procedure. All units—"
"What the hell's going on?" Lightning demanded.
"Calm down," Rygdea said, grappling with the impossible statement. Surely a mistake, miscommunication of some sort—a prank?
Lightning tapped a shoulder pauldron.
The words came out numbly, and left Rygdea with a bad aftertaste, as if he told some unforgivable lie.
"The Lindblum, our flying base, has been hit. It's going down."
"But that's… Serah!" Snow cried.
"Wait, what?" Lightning demanded, whirling on Snow.
"They called us—we're going there right? To the Lindblum," Snow asked.
"Yes. We are." Rygdea said, looking toward the pilot.
"She'll be okay," Snow said firmly, turning to Lightning. Lightning lowered her hand, which had been poised to strike. Fang's word's twanged in her mind: "Feel any better now that you hit me?"
"Tch." Lightning sat down.
Fang felt a twinge, empathy tapping several sore heart strings. If it had been Vanille on that ship…
"We're losing altitude, fast!"
Cid bit back the urge to shout back, "Then do something, dammit!" He took a breath. Keep cool. Keep cool.
"Evacuate ship, except the engineers working on repairs."
"Yes sir."
Cid was already down the hall by the time the announcement came in. "Code Yellow S, ship has been fatally compromised. Initiate non-
engineer evacuation measures immediately! Code Yellow S…"
Cid knocked on the engine room. With any luck they would be able to fix the issue without actually crashing….
I should have left with Lightning and the others. I shouldn't have been so stubborn, so stupid. Because of me, because I had to have her… Snow growled, self-loathing writhing in his chest. He sent out another fervent pray for Serah's safety. Please, please, please be okay, Serah… The fal'cie promised eternal life. No way she can she won't be fine!
Opposite of him sat Lightning, one leg crossed over the other, completely expressionless. Fang knew she had to do something, but the words just didn't come. She was left sitting next to Lightning awkwardly, trying to think of ways to bridge the abyss and failing. Five hundred years of stasis to think and she still couldn't come up with anything comforting. How embarrassing.
Fang thought about clasping Lightning's hand, to show some measure of support. "We're-in-this-together"—that kind of thing. Fang rubbed her jaw. But then again, discretion was the better part valor.
"Light," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone. She wondered what Vanille was up to, forcing herself not to conjure up horrific situations. The Sanctum would have said something, right?
The dark-haired Pulsian sat alone in the equipment room, glancing over all of the things. Some of them she recognized from her days on Gran Pulse. Others, she did not.
The tension in the room had become so heightened that Fang had almost felt like her composure annoyed Lightning. So she left.
She hummed as she handled the weaponry. Intricate and technologically advanced, yes, but nowhere as challenging as—
She heard the door open. Lightning stepped in, suddenly noticing Fang. "Oh."
Fang forced a smile. "Oh."
Lightning looked at Fang pleadingly, almost apologetically. Fang scooted in closer.
"I don't even know why I'm telling you this…" Lightning trailed off. "I just. I can't imagine a world without Serah. What if she dies? What if she shatters into a thousand crystal fragments in the crash?"
Fang patted Lightning on the back.
"I became Lightning for her; I'm fighting the Sanctum for her…. If she's gone, what's the point?"
"It's repaired, General Raines. We'll just start it up again and we should stabilize presently."
The ship dropped even farther.
"We should," the engineer said with a note of disbelief. "The pilot should have seen the status by now. Why hasn't he started it up?"
Cid sighed. Better than becoming crystal, or a monster. Sorry, Cocoon.
There was a slight twitch of warning, and then the world flew, the fastest blur of color Cid had seen all his life. He crashed into a pile of equipment, barely registering the impact before feeling the light. It happened so suddenly, one second a dizzy haze of pain and disorientation, the next light—pure, burning light.
The l'cie known as Cid Raines turned to ash. He felt nothing. I wish I could have at least saved a cape or two…
"Serah!" Snow raced towards the wreckage, pushing past soldiers and technicians.
"Stop," Rygdea said firmly, his hand catching Snow's shoulder. "Calm down."
"…"
Lightning strode forward, towards the still smoldering wreck. Every second she swore she saw crystal shards, swore she glimpsed melted puddles of the stuff. Her fears pressed on her. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead….
"Coming through, coming through!"
Lightning watched with initially uncomprehending awe as she saw a pair of soldiers rushing a small, fragile looking body off to the makeshift hospital ship. Singed pink hair poked out from the tan canvas of the stretcher, illuminated by the overhead lights of the various landed aircrafts.
"Serah!" she cried, unable to contain herself. She ran after the men, followed closely by Snow. The rest tried to keep up.
Cold. So cold. Snow clasped Serah's hand, so small and delicate in his own. He stared at the rhythmic rises and falls of Serah's chest, his heart seizing up. The monitor blipped at both of them, him and Lightning, informatively. Heart rate: weak; Body temperature: below average.
"You're going to be fine Serah. You're going to be just fine. I'll save you!" Snow said, eyes falling. He knew Serah couldn't hear him; the doctor had confirmed she was unconscious before rushing off to treat the other patients.
Snow rubbed his eyes. It couldn't end this way. Serah would get up any moment now, get up and hug him and it would be all okay. He twitched as the monitor connected to Serah skipped a beat. It had been going at a constant bip bip bip bip bip bip… but then, as the world blurred for a second… no bip. Snow squeezed Serah's hand tighter. Bip… bip… bip…
Lightning swallowed painfully, unable to look at her sister, so limp, like she was already dead.
Part of her wanted to explode, to grab Snow by the collar and scream at him. "This is all your fault!"
He would probably welcome it though. He had the look about him, a desperate need to repent. Part of her wondered at how easily her thoughts wandered. It was as if she was afraid she would kill Serah by thinking of the younger girl too much.
She was suddenly struck by a memory not so long ago, of another thin, pink-haired silhouette that lay still and lifeless on a hospital bed. She was struck by a sudden image: twelve-years-old, at the beach with Serah, building sandcastles while their mother watched over them. Long gone, long lost days. Serah was all she had left. She couldn't lose her. "C'mon, pull through…"
She felt a warm hand on her shoulder—Fang.
Lightning felt the irrational urge to cry. To begin weeping like a girl, something she imagined Claire Farron would do, but never Lightning.
Lightning swallowed again. She realized she was pushing back tears. Why tears?
Dimly she heard Snow banging against the display screen, demanding it to work. She barely felt the impact as he threw it to the ground, liquid leaking out of his face.
"Dammit!"
Bip….
Snow smiled dumbly, turning to Serah once more. "I'll save, I'll save, I'll save…."
He trailed off.
Silence.
Lightning swallowed for the thousandth time, barely feeling that Fang now embraced her.
Where was the bip?
The machine was broken; they needed to call in the doctor to get another one.
Why hadn't it made another bip?
It should have—each bip was a heartbeat, and Serah's heart should have beaten at least a couple times in the past seconds.
Silence.
Snow kicked the monitor, one last desperate move.
He fell to his knees, hands on Serah's wrist, which now seemed splayed at an unnatural angle. Cold. So cold.
Warmth. Lightning felt it. On her face. Marring it, carving deep scars in her visage. A sniffle. What an unnatural sound.
Snow wailed. He shook Serah by the shoulders. "Wake up," he gasped. "Wake up. I'm saving you, so wake up! Please, wake up! Serah!"
He shook her now, a ragdoll in the hands of a giant.
"Stop it," Fang demanded. Lightning suddenly felt cold without another person holding her. "She's dead."
"No."
Snow fell to his knees and did not get up.
The news screen buzzed dimly, in the faraway distance.
Lightning felt a ball in her chest unravel and break. She thought of Serah, for the thousandth time.
"Love is watching someone die," she had said.
Fang held Lightning together.