A/N: This little one-shot is a WAY overdue submission for 2017 Fandom Trumps Hate on tumblr. My offer for an FFXIII fic was picked up by dazais-guardian-angel on tumblr, if you want to check out the blog! The request was for more of a family fic, something post-FFXIII proper, and this little mish-mash of shenanigans is what happened.
Obviously, this fic is then dedicated to dazais-guardian-angel. SO many apologies for how long it took. Reviews are always appreciated and super encouraging!
The Peanut Oasis
Lightning stared through the gloom into her oblong, metallic home. While her sister had charged up the stairs with reckless abandon, wielding a flashlight and dragging Dajh into the dusty space through the semi-darkness, Lightning had stalled on the threshold. She leaned against the glass entryway and turned to the wasteland of Bodhum, a panorama of drooping fal'Cie-engineered palms and abandoned structures stretching down to steely water lapping on the shore.
It wasn't so much that Bodhum was unfit for re-habitation. The jarring but understandable lack of people made the area resemble old apocalyptic movies more than the home where she grew up, like the city remained a standing memorial to the Purge. In a twisted way, it was the ideal spot for the former l'Cie to temporarily take refuge in a post-Fall world. Lightning stewed on that for a long minute.
The sun was briefly visible through the gaping hole in Cocoon's shell. This time of afternoon, Lightning realized now, would be the only window of direct daylight possible inside. Shafts of light reflected on the rest of the moon-world, painting the majority of her "sky" in the same earthy tones of every other broken-down cityscape remaining.
The fal'Cie were gone. The power was gone. The light of Phoenix was gone.
Serah will be safe here, she affirmed, narrowing her eyes at the empty beach. For now.
Without l'Cie powers, camping in the wilds of Pulse was not a viable option. And at the mention of protective military custody in the confines of the growing refugee camp, she'd seen their collective feelings manifest on Hope's face: his cold outrage that escalated to defiance before shifting, finally, to helplessness. Unlike him, however, she and the others didn't have a father tied up in the effort to recreate governmental order over the chaos. They would only be in the way. They needed to just go.
Bartholomew was right. Sazh was right.
Her brow furrowed at the next thought.
Snow was right. Damn him.
Said buffoon announced his presence with a loud crash from the vicinity of the kitchen. Lightning snapped her sharp gaze toward the noise.
"Found the dustpan!" he bellowed. He tromped into view with a broom hefted onto his shoulder like a battle-axe. He cracked a grin at her narrowing eyes before removing his trench coat and hanging it on a hook near the door.
How can you be smiling at a time like this? She thought it but didn't say it – all part of her monumental effort to censure her criticism of Snow for Serah's sake.
"All set for the field day, Sis," he announced. "Think we're gonna have to clear out the fridge before it grows anything dangerous."
Lightning blinked. After weeks of absence, most of the stored food had surely expired, but the bigger issue was the entire contents moldering for several additional days withoutrefrigeration. He did have a point.
Hell-bent as she was on survival, Lightning bemoaned her lack of canning skills.
She nodded sharply and strode across the room, grateful to distance herself from her wanna-be brother-in-law. "Fine. I'll get right on that."
In the process of yanking out a trashcan from below the sink and staring down the refrigerator, Lightning reasoned through her irritation. Snow was not here to make her life hell – he was taking action and sticking by her sister, helping Sazh and Dajh where he could.
She swung open the fridge and tried not to gag as she held her breath against the putrid fumes. She threw a half-full gallon of chunky milk into the trashcan. The drawer of slimy vegetables was next.
Serah's laughter rang across the kitchen from where she had joined Snow in the living room, their voices mixed in happy chatter, and Lightning felt a familiar needling in her chest.
This wasn't about Snow's justifiable intrusion on her home or even his impossible optimism that sometimes bordered on stupidity.
This was about Serah. How Lightning was no longer her guardian, and how it would never again be the two Farron sisters against the world. On a level, she had accepted the truth, but it still stung.
Yes, Serah was happily engaged to Snow and Dajh had been reunited with Sazh. 'Support Team Lightning' currently consisted of one no-longer-Claire Farron.
She would have to make the best of it.
They somehow survived that first day. Lightning was surprised to see life fall into an almost comfortable routine after two short weeks.
She guessed that most of it had to do with her frequent hunting excursions and Snow's continued absence after day six. He'd accompanied Sazh on a flight back to the main refugee encampment on Pulse, saying something about supplies and the inability to live on monster meat alone.
"Spoiled dumbass," Lightning muttered to herself. Who says you can't live on monster meat alone?
She thought this with gradually dying irritation, dragging the carcass of a slain lobo to her midpoint camp on the outskirts of Bodhum. It had wandered from one of the small packs that prowled in the vicinity of Euride Gorge, straight into one of her new traps. Wandering alone like that was an easy way to die.
Lightning's mind returned to Serah and Dajh back at the house. She supposed that they deserved more than a steady diet of strange game, canned goods, scavenged vegetables from overrun gardens in the area (which wouldn't last long), and bland coconuts – which Hope had once insisted were the primary basis of one ancient island civilization's survival. God knew why; she didn't care to live like that. She supposed Snow had a point when he declared that they deserved toiletries and extra linens and maybe a toy for Dajh, too.
Above all, they deserved protection. Lightning had instructed her sister on their zone of relative safety, the hours at which they could roam that zone, and the proper way to barricade every window and door to the peanut if danger approached.
She found no reassurance in those thoughts now. Their extended, unnatural twilight period would fade to darkness before long. She cleared her mind and hurried through the process of skinning and cleaning her prey – tasks she purposely kept to camps like this one, distant from the house. Serah, friend to all things living and not party to the extreme survival of their trek on Pulse, hadn't been able to stomach the sight of an entire dead beast being skinned and portioned up just below the living room windows.
Not that Lightning could spare them the whole of it. Once she finished packing the pieces of meat in butcher paper and plastic bags within an old rucksack, she swiped an arm at the sweat on her forehead, uncaring about the blood marking her hands and face. She pulled at her gore- and dirt-smeared tank top, rapidly tugging it out and back in to cool herself. Her cargo pants looked even more like a crime scene. She needed an ocean dip before dinner, for sure.
As Lightning hauled her bag along the second half of the distance to her house, a rumbling, whooshing sound overhead indicated the approach of an aircraft, as well. She huffed in the general direction of the false sky, knowing Snow was on board, and headed home.
Her return strategy, crafted over a few miles of walking, was to remain a statue of intimidation when Snow inevitably answered the door, shit-eating grin in place as he delivered "news" from their trip. Lightning was only interested in news of Hope's well-being, and that much was gained from Sazh's transmitter when Bartholomew routinely checked in. It was one of many perks to having an on-call transport pilot living in the house.
For a moment, it struck her just how on-edge she'd become with the lack of that transmitter. The thought slowed her steps and pulled her gaze to the dark outline of Cocoon's Hanging Edge, but she shook it off and marched forward once more.
It was fully dark when Lightning reached the glass-enclosed staircase, save for a couple of lights shining through the windows. Something about that seemed odd, but she was too tired to question it and too busy trudging up a flight of steps. She had no intention of barging inside in her gross state, either, so she knocked twice and waited for the wave of annoyance that would hit with Snow. She could drop the meat sack at his feet and be on her merry way to the seashore.
The sliding door opened with a mechanical whoosh. Lightning blinked and squinted, taking a moment to adjust to the significantly brighter light in the hallway – electric light, she suddenly registered – before she could absorb the reality of who answered the door.
Wide green eyes stared up at her, far below the level of the Snow-giant she'd expected.
"Light… Are you okay?" Hope shuffled forward a step. "Can I take that bag?"
Am I hallucinating? She blinked a few times, but he stayed put. Peripherally, she spotted a familiar yellow and orange jacket hung on another hook in the hallway.
Hope frowned, brow knitted in concern. "Seriously, are you okay? Are you injured?"
Snow's raucous laughter announced his arrival. He captured Hope in a shoulder-crushing side-hug and hauled him out of the doorway, ignoring his protests, and waved a hand in her stunned face. Irritation flared to the surface of her mind.
"Welcome back, Sis! Told ya I'd bring a few things for the house."
"I am not a thing for the house," Hope grumbled.
Her plan had failed. Mission abort. Snow had seen fit to deliver a peace offering – one that had, for all she knew, miraculously restored power to the house by simply entering it. She hoped the offering himself had come willingly and not been abducted. Snow had once bodily hauled Hope back to his father and might have assumed the reverse was acceptable.
"Please tell me this was a mutual arrangement," Lightning said, voice on the verge of threatening. She dropped her bag just outside the door and crossed her arms. "If I find out that you've tactically acquired someone else's kid—"
"No way!" Snow started in. "You think I'd steal him from his dad without—?"
"I'm right here," Hope cut in. He glared back and forth between them. "I don't belong to my father, the government, or either of you, and I made the decision to come here on my own. It wasn't a hard one. Dad had the common courtesy to let me choose."
There was something else he wasn't saying, Lightning could see right away, but he was clearly pissed off. She had no idea where to begin addressing the situation. He made an obvious effort to shove everything down and look her in the eyes.
"You're welcome for rigging up the generator, by the way," he stated, waving a hand toward the living room as he answered her silent questions about the electricity. "It's temporary, but I have bigger plans to fix that. Now, seriously, are you injured?"
She felt chastised in the odd way that any adult feels when out-matured by a teenager. Snow rubbed at the back of his head and shrank away from the doorway, guilt-ridden.
"No, and thank you," Lightning said, shaking her head. She scrubbed a hand over her face and schooled her features. Restoration of electricity deserved more than a simple thank you – a task for later. "Butchering monsters is just bloody business."
Hope cocked his head. "You always go alone?" He had the look of a parent catching a child in unsafe practices. She would've laughed, but that would only make him angry.
"Can't exactly take Serah and Dajh along," she deadpanned.
His frown deepened, but he finally just reached for the bag at her feet. He strained against its weight, dragging it inside as he asked, "You want all of this stored?"
"We have a salt barrel in the basement. Serah knows what to do," Lightning sighed. She shot Snow a look that said You will die if you don't help him right this second, at which he snapped to action.
Satisfied, she turned to leave. "I'll be back in a little while."
"Hey, ya forgot something." She looked back just in time to catch the flashlight Snow tossed her way, along with his cocky wink. She was too grateful to punch him.
She wondered if Snow could avoid making Hope reconsider his murderous rage of the past before she returned. Between the two of them, the idiot's chances of survival were shrinking, and he seemed recklessly far from giving a damn.
Lightning returned around two hours later to the warm smells and sounds of dinnertime. The salty water on her skin and clothing had washed away most of the nastiness and dried during her jog back, but she felt gritty enough to want a cold shower and change of clothes as soon as possible.
She checked the main level bathroom first, which was in use, and padded down the hallway, past the kitchen where Serah hummed over a simmering pot on the stove and the living room where Dajh played obliviously, before heading toward a short flight of stairs to the dim lower floor.
The sound of a belting, off-key voice stopped her before she could descend. She quickly pieced the clues together – it was Snow in the shower with his terrible ear for music.
Saved me walking in on that, I guess—
"At least he announces his presence, right?"
Lightning jumped at the sudden other voice, glancing up. Hope laughed from his place not five meters above, in the loft that overlooked the living room and kitchen. He finished meticulously straightening a few layers of linens on one of the lounge chairs and stood, stretching toward the ceiling.
"What are you doing?" she asked without thinking. The answer was obvious. She'd meant to ask why.
Hope shrugged, pulling down the edges of his black t-shirt. "Setting up camp. I've taken the tour and done the math – you and Serah have your room, Sazh and Dajh have the couch-bed, and Snow is alone in the rec room. I know it's a big space down there, but I'd rather not stab him in my sleep. He can snore in peace."
The snoring was a fact that none of them could forget from their l'Cie journey. Snow's monstrous nighttime noises may have single-handedly kept the beasts of Pulse at bay while they slept – or so Fang once theorized.
"Fair enough," Lightning concluded. She wandered to a nearby linen closet and pulled a lumpy pillow from the top shelf. "Sorry if Snow didn't mention accommodations before he talked you into coming here. You're welcome to sleep on the recliner."
"No thanks. It's more secluded up here," Hope said, catching the pillow when she tossed it up. "And he didn't have to talk me into anything. I didn't come here for the accommodations – which are infinitely better than refugee camp, by the way. I'd just rather not sleep in the living room with early risers. Morning is the enemy."
Lightning quirked an eyebrow at that one. "You got up plenty early when we were traveling all over creation, though. Since when was morning the enemy?"
"Since coming back to real life!" Hope said, throwing up his free hand. He dropped the pillow in place and collapsed backward onto the nest of linens. "Growth spurts are the actual devil without curative abilities. I am done."
Nodding, Lightning decided not to question him further, leaving him to wallow in teenage misery. Snow continued to subject them both to his muffled but awful serenade. She gave up on the shower idea and went to change in her room, hurrying back out in less than two minutes.
"Sis! Your timing is perfect!"
This from the person actually qualified to use the title. Serah spun to face her from across the kitchen, beaming as she waved a wooden spoon. "I need a taste-tester!"
Hope must have been hungrier than he was tired, because Lightning hadn't taken two steps before Serah tacked on, "Oh, Hope, you too!"
At which point Lightning realized he was at her back. She supposed her lack of response was an after-effect of his constant presence at approximate arm's length, prior to his time in the refugee camp. He half-smiled and maneuvered to a free space just to Serah's right.
"I hope you both like mystery meat stew," Serah remarked. She took a quick slurp from the spoon, dashed in a bit more garlic powder, and stirred again.
Lightning snorted. "It's not a mystery," she said. "I killed a—"
"Nope! Not listening!" Serah exclaimed. She had clamped her hands over her ears. Lightning stared at her sister in silent judgment for a few seconds before Serah dropped the cover and explained to Hope, "I'd rather not know what it came from, that's all."
"Yeah, Light," Hope egged on. "Based on some of the movies I've seen, the contents of 'mystery' products never make for polite dinner conversation."
"I'm not masterminding an evil plot, I just hunt things," Lightning said flatly. "And what the hell were your parents doing, letting you watch movies like that?"
He rolled his eyes and smirked. "You really think negligent parents and horror flicks corrupted me?"
"Here, Hope, you look half-starved," Serah said, and a spoon of the proclaimed mystery stew was suddenly in front of his nose. Lightning watched the brief battle on his face between irritation over being called scrawny and happiness over the preferential treatment.
The latter won out. Hope ate the bite and chewed thoughtfully.
"I think… A little more pepper, maybe. Otherwise, it's delicious."
"Oh good, easy fix!" Serah said, more excited than relieved. It wasn't as if she ever made anything inedible. She squeezed Hope in a little hug, which he awkwardly tried to return, and patted his head.
Lightning was surprised to see him smile a bit over the show of affection, at least before rational thought came into play. Serah's perpetual mothering instinct was a thing of wonder, and no one needed it more than Hope. Well, possibly Dajh.
And Snow, in some respects, if she was completely honest. The man didn't understand the concept of hanging his damp towel on the rack. Serah was in for some house-training duty. They all were.
The telltale sound of water rushing through pipes had stopped. Lightning excused herself from the kitchen and went down to the lower floor's bathroom, curious if she was still right.
Sure enough, no used towel hung in sight. Snow emerged from his curtained-off section of the rec room clothed in loungewear and without a towel to return. He froze not two steps later, caught in the trap of Lightning's glare. Without a word, he disappeared behind the curtained area, grabbed the towel – probably from a wadded state in the floor – and took it back to the bathroom.
Enormous as he was, Snow still scurried past her and up the stairs.
"Woo, somethin' smells good!" Lightning heard Sazh proclaiming upstairs, followed shortly by a shout of excitement from Dajh.
It did smell good. Serah made her official announcement that dinner was ready, Snow clattered around with the dishes on his way to set the table, and Hope appeared at the top of the stairs to flag her back.
She could classify this as a good day.
Four days later, just in time for morning coffee, the generator stalled.
Snow smacked the percolator for the tenth time and swore up and down that the gods had it in for him. He swore at a number of gods and goddesses as well. The machine had stopped mid-brew, letting only a short-lived trickle of brown water escape.
"Hit my coffeepot one more time, dumbass," Lightning snapped, "and I'll get you a one-way ticket to Etro so you can say all that nonsense to her face."
Snow growled and dragged his fingers into his messy hair, giving it a hard yank. Finally, he dropped his arms and slumped against the counter, defeated.
"Don't act like you aren't just as pissed, Lightning," he muttered. She focused her attention more sharply at the use of her chosen name. "We both know it's not about the coffee – in a few hours we'll all be feeling the heat if we can't get the fans and A/C going. And before long, we'll have to use up any perishable food."
Lightning nodded once. Cocoon's interior was humid and stale most days, lacking any fal-Cie generated airflow to counter the reality of Pulsian summer. They'd been rationing energy use carefully, considering Hope's warning about the generator. He had only promised a temporary fix, for a few days at most, before a better setup would be needed. He admitted to being limited in technical know-how, parts, and manpower to make that happen.
She suspected Hope thought, on some level, that they would kick him to the curb for being less than one hundred percent useful. The entire concept was ridiculous. Lightning had all but resigned herself to post-apocalyptic survival mode before he'd arrived.
The household's collective lack of understanding as to how the fourteen-year-old rigged a scavenged dreadnought generator to the back of the house said it all.
Now, it was time for a new setup, ready or not. Everyone else was useless for the task.
Heaving a sigh, Snow pushed off the counter and rinsed his mug in the sink. "Well, that's my cue. I'll let Sazh know to prep for another flight so we can find parts and whatnot. Maybe you can get the kid to tweak one more day outta that generator. Y'know, before it starts to get muggy in here."
"Not sure it's worth getting him up this early," Lightning said. The sun had barely risen on Pulse, providing only watery, gray light to the interior of the shell.
"I'll do it, then," Snow offered, smirking on his way to the loft stairs. "And spare you the fun of dealing with his bad side."
Lightning glowered after him but swallowed her retort. Serah had materialized in his place, bleary-eyed and innocent.
"Morning, Sis," she greeted with a yawn. She approached the coffee machine, swaying slightly as she stared at the empty carafe. She pressed the button three times.
"Did Snow break the coffeepot?"
Snorting at her sister's automatic first-guess, Lightning shook her head. "Power's out right now."
"Oh," Serah yawned again. She stretched and went for the pantry, feeling around for something. "Oh well. Guess I'll make some pancakes."
"Serah, the power is out," Lightning repeated, laughing in spite of everything. She demonstrated by testing the useless counter lights and disposal. The scene took her back to the few but precious lazy days they had enjoyed in that very same space over the years.
"Mmhm." Finally giving up, Serah wandered over to one of the seats around the table and rested her head on her folded arms. She didn't even seem to register Snow's repeated calling of Hope's name from up in the loft to try and wake him.
A loud smack, one roughly blurted "Leave me alone!" and a series of scuffling sounds later, Snow tromped back into the kitchen area with Hope hoisted over his shoulder. The boy looked to be equal parts irate and tired, with a splash of mortification upon sighting his audience.
Before Hope had the chance to grab any weapons in range or wrest himself free, Snow dumped him into the nearest chair to sulk. He curled into himself and grumbled unintelligibly, one hand raking at his silver hair that stuck out in every direction.
Lightning turned her attention back to Snow. "Did you explain the situation?"
"He backhanded me when I poked his shoulder," Snow said with a shrug. "Didn't bother after that."
She buried her face in her palm. "How have you still not learned to never poke people to wake them up? Didn't I punch you the one time you tried that with me?"
"Yep!" Serah piped up with a sleepy grin, promptly falling back onto her arms.
Sazh simultaneously appeared from the living area, arms crossed as he appraised the scene. "You kids better settle down. Dajh needs his sleep more than all y'all combined."
"Lies," Hope muttered, planting his forehead against the edge of the table.
Lightning pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed at all of them. Time to get back on task.
She walked up to Hope's chair and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight shake. Snow's mouth dropped open when Hope didn't even flinch – she could see the oaf's sense of betrayal plainly written on his face – but Lightning silenced him with a glare.
"Sorry for the rude awakening," she explained, "but the generator's out. Snow and Sazh will need to make a trip for more parts, but could you check it out in the meantime?"
"Yeah, of course," Hope mumbled. He pushed himself upright with some effort, and Lightning had to suppress a smile at the mark the table had left on his forehead. "Sorry for making a scene, Light."
In spite of her usual anti-Snow bent, Lightning's eyes automatically darted to the man who bore the brunt of the punishment. Hope caught her meaning and winced, rotating his chair to face him.
"Sorry I slapped you, Snow. Just… don't touch sleeping people, okay? It's startling."
Snow cracked a smile. "No worries, kid."
"That wasn't an agreement," Hope deadpanned.
The giant just laughed at his sour expression. "Hey, you sleep like the dead, and I can't rule out emergencies. Guess I'll just get better at dodging the attack."
The stiff set to Hope's shoulders and his clenched hands suggested that more attacks would certainly follow, with or without prompting. Lightning took that as her cue to drag Snow by the arm, stumbling and protesting, out of the kitchen and down the entry hallway.
"Aw, c'mon," Snow whined as they came to a stop. "I was just kidding around. Are you gonna lecture me now, Mom?"
Lightning pinned him to the wall with one palm and a searing glare. "Call me that again," she growled, "and you'll be sleeping outside with the wildlife. I am no one's mother."
"Fine. Fine," Snow relented, hands raised in surrender. "But you know I'm in the right, here. Hope has some adjusting to do, whether he likes it or not. We can't all just cater to him. He was not waking up to his name, and I wasn't gonna shout and wake Dajh."
Lightning raised an eyebrow at his serious response. "I don't disagree. But that doesn't mean you should egg him on. Stop picking fights with a teenager that you brought here."
"Hah, that's rich," Snow laughed, rolling his eyes. "Don't even pretend you didn't want me to bring him here, and that you aren't aware that I did it for his and your benefit."
The comment held enough blunt force that Lightning shifted her intense focus to the coat rack, unwilling to expose her surprise that Snow had not only made a strategic move, but had made it on her behalf. As though all other benefits to Hope joining the household were just secondary considerations next to her personal well-being.
"So," she said stiffly, "you're still trying to make up for Serah, huh?" On some level, she knew he still carried some guilt over taking her sister away.
Snow scratched at his stubble for a moment. "No, not really. Serah's not happy if you're not happy, and you're too busy worrying about Hope to be happy. I'm no genius, but I'm not blind. I saw a solution and went for it."
He was right, again. The little wrinkle between her eyebrows deepened, but Lightning just said, "If you want me to be happy, stop picking fights." Without waiting for a response, she released him from the wall and stalked in the opposite direction, heading to her room.
Lightning plopped down onto the cushions of her small couch and stared up at the ceiling. The sound of footsteps up and down the hall, the grinding slide of the non-operational front door, and the occasional snippet of conversation reached her ears, but she couldn't will herself to join their activities. Her headspace felt strangely crowded – like more than just her home had been invaded by Snow Villiers and his optimistic, extroverted notions of life.
At the moment, it was a stronger dose than Lightning could handle. She flopped onto her side and growled against a decorative pillow. Who was he to dictate the norms of her home? Who was he to decide who or what she did or didn't need?
It irritated her most of all, though, that he was proving himself right.
She mulled that over in circles until her mind was exhausted. Without a working lamp to banish the darkness of such an early hour, it wasn't long before her eyelids dropped shut.
Hope gave the generator two days, at best. In his own words, pushing it any further would have backfired and blown up the rigging, possibly the house, and definitely his entire person. Snow and Sazh had left immediately, but their forty-eight hour goal for return was fast approaching.
It was a lazy, muggy morning – made muggier by energy conservation, which meant only utilizing fans for airflow and the minimum amount of light necessary for household tasks.
Lightning had to tear her eyes from the chrome hands of an abstract clock on the wall. She had retreated to the unused lounge chair in the loft, watching the wilted and hazy world outside on her left, panning to the calm of the household on her right, and sometimes actually reading the old weapons manual she held in front of her. A nearby fan fluttered its pages as it oscillated toward her again – enough to give some reprieve, but not enough to keep her from sweating.
Serah stood cooking at the stove, humming lightly, and Dajh played with a small toy truck in the living room floor. The rest of the boys in the house had recently constructed a small vehicular obstacle course from various knickknacks, bookends and gadgets, and it kept the five-year-old occupied often enough. This morning, though, he looked sluggish and almost bored as he dragged the truck across the floor panels.
"Miss Serah?" he said suddenly, and her sister jolted to full awareness.
"What's wrong, kiddo?"
"Um, d'you think Hope's coming back soon?" Dajh asked plaintively. Even from a distance, Lightning could see his nerves making him fidget until he'd knocked over a bookend-obstacle. "What if he got lost?"
"He's not lost," she called back from the loft, and the small boy jumped in place. "I've seen him circle by outside a couple of times. Whatever he's up to, he's staying close to the house."
That seemed to do the trick, as Dajh went straight back to playing without comment. Serah just gave her a wry look, shook her head and refocused her attention on the stovetop. Truth be told, Lightning had no idea what Hope was doing out there, only that he wasn't actually going any distance away – if he had been, she would've gone along with him.
It wasn't long before the front door swooshed open and Hope appeared from the hallway, barefoot and holding a smallish cardboard box with both hands. He was soaked from head to toe and dripped a puddle where he stood at the entrance to the kitchen.
"Could someone bring me a towel, please?" he asked.
Dajh all but launched at him. "What's in the box? Lemme see!" He made a grab for it, but Hope lifted the box out of reach.
Lightning pushed herself up from the lounge and shook out the numbness of her limbs. "I'll get the towel."
Serah had already left the stove by the time Lightning reached the linen closet, and both her sister and Dajh had crowded in on the mystery box when she returned with a towel.
"Can I open it? Please?" Dajh begged. Serah was barely able to hold him back by his overalls straps.
Hope finally set the box on the floor, taking the proffered towel instead. "Go ahead. Open at your own risk."
"What exactly did you just bring into my house?" Lightning muttered to him, but Hope only shook his head.
"Just watch."
Dajh lifted the lid with an unexpected level of care. His eyes went wide before he shrieked out a laugh, jumping up and down but unwilling to reach into the box. Serah took one look and gasped.
"Is that… a toad?"
"I think she's laid eggs in the inlet near the house," Hope said, by way of explanation, as he maneuvered around to the box and squatted down. He lifted the toad up and held it out to Dajh. "It's okay – she won't bite you."
Dajh locked eyes with the toad and prodded it with one finger. "Why's her throat doin' that?"
"Well, that's just—"
No sooner had he spoken did the toad make a play for freedom. It trembled, squirmed and leapt onto the shiny floor, hopping its way toward the toy truck course. Dajh chased it, trying to mimic its leaps.
Lightning pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why…?" she muttered, running a hand over her face. "Why is there a toad in my living room?"
Hope dodged her line of sight and chased both Dajh and the toad. He snatched the terrified thing before it could try to hide under the bookshelf and returned to Lightning, holding it up for inspection with a sheepish smile.
"She's kind of cute though, right?" he tried. Serah snorted from behind him, turning to go after Dajh, but Lightning only narrowed her eyes. Hope shifted tactics. "I mean, either way, Dajh liked it. I promise she's going back outside, okay? Please don't be mad…"
The toad, its throat heaving from the continued state of panic, sat clamped in his hands with its glassy eyes looking off sideways.
And yes, Lightning had to admit that it was weirdly kind of cute.
"I'm not mad," Lightning sighed. "But that thing's obviously rattled. You should take it back now."
"You don't want to pet it first?" he pressed.
"They carry salmonella."
Hope just smirked. "Aren't you a stickler for proper hand-washing anyway?"
"Fine." She did stroke the toad's back with two fingers, and by that point Serah and Dajh returned to do the same.
Her sister winced. "It's so scaly. I was expecting slime, not sandpaper."
"Can we name it, Hope?" Dajh pleaded.
At that moment, they all heard the front door whoosh open. Four pair of eyes – maybe five, if the toad managed to focus – looked to the entry hall. Snow's head popped around the corner, grin plastered on his face, and Lightning had the fleeting thought that the toad's arrival was not the worst.
When another blond head appeared from behind him, goggles affixed above a nervous half-smile, Lightning froze.
"Maqui!" Serah exclaimed as she darted over to crush the boy in a hug.
Lightning's laser stare returned to Snow, gaining intensity.
"Now, Sis," he began, coming into full view with his hands raised, "I told ya I'd bring everything we needed to fix this place up. There's no better repair crew than team NORA."
Lightning felt the sensation of yet another rug being pulled from beneath her feet. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "Snow, I swear to Etro…"
But new voices in the entry hall confirmed her fears. In a matter of two minutes, four new people had crowded into the living room and kitchen areas, bringing the grand total of warm bodies in the house to ten. Hope slipped around them all and escaped with the toad.
It took no time for Lightning to ascertain, through her sister's excitement and everyone's exuberant chatter, that these guests were here to stay. Serah was far too happy about it for her to protest the situation. Gadot was apparently hitting it off with Sazh, Lebreau was already taking over the forgotten food cooking on the stove, and the two teenage boys in their crew were gesturing and explaining all sorts of technological jargon to Snow.
Shell-shocked and distrustful of what might come out of her mouth if she opened it, Lightning wandered toward the front door instead, one hand rubbing at her temple. These were not bad people. They were just a lot of people. A lot of loud, enthusiastic people like Snow, in fact. She wondered how much more she could take before she finally left her home to the company of visitors and went to live in a tent somewhere.
Maqui and Yuj rushed by shortly after, stringing out apologies to her as they charged out the door and down the staircase. She assumed they were headed for the generator.
They plowed into Hope at the base of the staircase and dragged him off as well.
So much for that escape attempt, she thought, simultaneously wondering if there was any alcohol in the house. She also wondered if Hope might decide the refugee camp allowed him more personal space and just leave her here to lose her mind.
It took the trio of tech-heads a mere ten hours to completely construct a functioning, reliable generator – this with Snow and Gadot off-loading parts from Sazh's ship and hauling them to the site. They all worked late into the evening with the aid of additional electric lights.
Lightning, meanwhile, was roped into Serah and Lebreau's quest to make the rec room into a NORA campsite. It was the best possible way to escape the madness in and around her peanut home, though, because Lightning immediately volunteered to take Lebreau on a pillaging quest for curtains, rods, room dividers, and more bedding supplies in nearby buildings.
Snow had brought only the bare essentials to accommodate the NORA crew, after all. He was too predictable.
"When we're done here," Lebreau said casually, grunting as she tossed a heavy duvet onto Lightning's piled-up wheelbarrow, "we really ought to visit the old café. I've got a hell of a stash in the back there." She punctuated this suggestion with a wink.
Lightning shrugged, though inside she was leaping for joy at the thought of alcohol. "Sure. Why not?"
She knew that might become a recipe for disaster, should it result in a drunken NORA crew, but her calculations about the entire household dynamic gave that outcome a slim to none chance. Dajh lived there, and Sazh would be sure to kick everyone to the curb if they had any such partying plans.
More likely, the alcohol would just become a late evening coping mechanism on the challenging days ahead.
That thought in mind, as soon as they had finished confiscating enough materials for Operation Camp NORA, Lightning and Lebreau carried on with their side-plan. They grabbed several of Lebreau's recommended bottles and a large collection of spices for Serah to use in the kitchen while they were at it.
Hours later, thanks to Serah's master interior decorating skills and a crap-ton of rearranging, the rec room ended up more like a few mini rooms with their own hallway. Makeshift curtain dividers, folding screens and other devices marked out five separate sleeping quarters for the NORA members, with the bathroom immediately at the base of the stairs taking up what would've been a sixth space.
Serah looked over their handiwork with a satisfied – and almost smug – grin.
"Well ladies, that does it down here," she announced. She spun on her heel, dusted her hands and planted them on her hips. "On to the kitchen!"
Lightning cringed. She could tell that Serah didn't mean something standard like dish duty; she meant cooking. Backing down was not an option, even if Lightning did prefer to just bring in the raw materials and watch the highly domestic magic happen from a safe distance. But now that Serah was about to be cooking dinner for a small horde, she needed help.
Lightning swallowed down any hint of refusal and trudged upstairs.
A few cuts, burns, and a near-mishap with the electric can opener later, Serah must've finally decided it was time to banish Lightning from her kitchen triangle.
She had the decency to look apologetic. "Take a break, Sis," she said, one potholder-clad hand shooing Lightning away from the countertop – upon which sat the remains of a mutilated rather than diced tomato.
If slaughter had been the objective, Lightning was the clear champion. She glared at the uncooperative fruit, brandishing her gory knife with a frown.
Serah winced at the sight but shook it off. "Could you just… go check on the guys? Tell them dinner's almost ready?"
"On it," Lightning said. She dumped her knife in the sink and rushed off.
Nothing's on fire and I'm off the hook. I'm calling this a win.
Darkness had fully descended on the worksite outside by the time Lightning approached. They had rigged up a few flood lamps around the new generator, which looked to be a mishmash of wildly different parts. It seemed strange to Lightning that they would build another generator from the ground up rather than augmenting Hope's existing one, but she guessed they had their reasons.
She must have been staring at the scene longer than she thought, because Hope's head popped out from behind a piece of the new machinery and tilted toward her.
"Something wrong?"
"No," she clipped, snapping to the defensive. "Just delivering news. Dinner's almost ready."
Hope pushed the goggles up off his eyes. He didn't believe her, by the look on his face. "If you have a question, just ask it. We're attaching this mess to your house, after all."
"Fine," she huffed. Being found out was not her favorite pastime. "I'm curious why this" – she gestured to the hulking new generator setup – "is completely separate from the one you rigged up before. That's all."
"Oh, that." He didn't immediately answer, instead calling out across the machinery, "Hey, Yuj, could you pass me the wire cutters?"
"You got it. Head's up, Maq!"
An unidentifiable instrument floated through the air from the opposite side of the generator, was snatched by a hand that suddenly shot up from the top of everything, and then was tossed down to Hope.
He caught the object and rolled his neck, belatedly addressing the question. "Well, for one, we didn't want all this work to disrupt the house's electricity for a whole day – it would've gotten even muggier, and Serah wouldn't have been able to cook or set up the new beds in there. And for another…"
Hope hesitated just long enough for a different voice to fill the silence.
"For another, that old rig is highly unstable," the voice came, muffled within the generator until a blond, grease-and-goggle-covered head popped out from the top of everything. "You're lucky the house didn't go down in flames!"
"We dialed it back…" Hope muttered, his face stained in mortification, then shrank back behind the part he was working on. "Thanks a lot, Maqui."
"You're very welcome!"
"Obvious sarcasm!"
"Shut up and get back to work, you dorks!" This from Yuj, who finally showed his face from the other side. Lightning stifled a snicker at the sight of his decorative turban – god forbid the blue mane be damaged. How NORA's gang of drama queens came together in any sort of functioning unit was beyond her.
Then again, she begrudgingly admitted, we made things work as l'Cie, somehow.
"I was serious about the dinner announcement," Lightning repeated. Maqui and Yuj both shot huge grins back at her. "Plan on a break in about fifteen minutes. I'll spread the word to the transport crew." And with that, she turned on her heel and left them to it.
Dinner was rowdy. So rowdy that Hope all but inhaled his food and bolted back outside as quickly as possible, though not before enduring one cheek-pinch, two noogies and a small standoff involving pea-catapults. Lightning had opted to cope with a couple glasses of wine and a wide berth.
The remaining extroverted gang just kept on going. Dajh was fully entertained by Maqui juggling a few unused potatoes, managing to be so engaging that even Sazh had no complaints. After over an hour of enduring the noise and Snow's epic retelling of NORA adventures from days of yore, Lightning was finally done.
She muttered thanks to Serah for the dinner and slipped out unnoticed. Hope was buried somewhere in the guts of the generator, his tinkering the only sound other than muted noise that still drifted down from the house above.
"Hey," she called out, and the rattling noises stopped.
"I take it you're not out here for generator maintenance one-o-one," Hope called back.
"Fat chance," Lightning laughed. The idea was ludicrous to her. "I just hope the new company isn't turning you into a workaholic at fourteen."
"Better than an alcoholic at twenty-one," came the muffled response.
"Two glasses isn't alcoholism," she refuted.
"And one generator isn't workaholism."
Lightning threw up her hands. "That isn't a real word!"
Hope clambered out of the pile of a generator then, greasy and grinning. "It's about as real as my condition, then." He looked up at the glowing windows of the dining and kitchen area, where the source of the racket was still filtering through to the outside. He shuffled awkwardly in place.
"So, uh, I'm sorry my generator might've… almost burned down your house."
"I'm only sorry your generator incidentally brought a herd of miscreants into my house," Lightning sighed, "and then failed to burn it down."
Hope went wide-eyed and let his jaw drop in pretended shock. "But your sister's in there! And Sazh and Dajh! For shame."
"Snow can just burn, then?" she quipped, and he dissolved into laughter. "But seriously, don't burn down my house. And don't try to take down Snow. Serah would never forgive you or me."
"Honestly," Hope began, once he'd recovered his breath, "I owe Snow a debt of gratitude. He can be obnoxious, but he did find me and bring me back here."
"Where you're surrounded by a whole gang of obnoxious people?" Lightning raised a skeptical eyebrow. Some part of her still believed the crowded and loud conditions would drive Hope to return to his father, leaving her to face the madness alone.
Hope just laughed again. He raised his hands in front of his face, making a small frame around the dining room windows with his thumbs and index fingers, and squinted through.
"But they're our gang of obnoxious people," he explained. "Just a really crazy family, right? If I have to occasionally sleep in a tent or something, it's still worth it to stay here."
Several moments passed in companionable silence. Hope pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and started absently spinning it, while Lightning reflected on her sudden inheritance of a gigantic family. She had to admit that it wasn't all bad – Serah was overjoyed, and she could probably avoid becoming an alcoholic to survive the new and different challenges ahead.
Eventually, Lightning came back around to her less debilitating plans to cope – those along the same line as Hope's. She was fairly sure there were a couple of tents and assorted camping gear in the storage closet under the stairs. Maybe an occasional night under the stars would be enough to balance out the energy of her new home.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable shattering of a dish in the house, followed by the sudden outpouring of muffled laughter.
"So. You need a tent?" she asked at length.
Hope nodded. "Oh yeah, definitely."