Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII, all credit for characters, locations, etc. belong solely to Square Enix and their affiliates.

Summary: And really, how well could they claim to know each other? It was a forced relationship, one of need and necessity, born of a shared enemy and an entwined fate. How could either of them have known how much they needed each other, how much they'd come to rely on each other? Flight; Fang/Lightning.

Author's Note: This took the space of a few hours, is relatively unedited and is my first upload on my new account. It is currently a one-shot until further notice, but if I am inclined to make it a multi-chaptered fic, don't expect frequent updates; I'm not exactly known for keeping to an update schedule. Will be listed an incomplete until further notice.

Symphonic

Strawberry locks blew in the Archylte Steppe's late afternoon breeze, fluttering about that carefully blank face like a curtain. After a long moment, Lightning brushed her hair back behind her ear with a sigh. Perched high on one of the many rocky masses that spotted the Steppe, Lightning kept her eyes locked on the horizon. Cocoon hung high in the sky, a deceitfully beautiful reminder of their, of her, circumstances.

She was alone for the moment, having taken advantage of the distraction her comrades' arguments brought. Lightning had snuck away when Fang and Snow had begun laying into each other. Their fighting would have, a short time ago, infuriated her, but all she could muster now was mild irritation, and even then, only in the fact that they were fighting within themselves, not with the fate that they were supposedly bound to. She could not stand to listen to their bickering. There was only so much she could take.

Though Lightning did understand why it was happening, why they were slowly turning on each other, it wore no less on her nerves. At its very roots, it came about because of painful indecision. They were making very little headway on the prospect of what to do next. After the fight with Alexander, they may have resolved to head to Oerba, but with the way things were going, Lightning was coming to wonder if any plans made would follow through. The party was currently split as to what they would do; Snow and Vanille wanted to stay and help some of the lingering Cie'th Stones; Sazh and Fang were eager to start progressing to Oerba, deeming it too risky to stay much longer; Lightning was rather indifferent, though preferably she wanted to head to the village sometime soon; and Hope would go wherever his unlikely mentor went. All in all, they were no closer to finding a way out of their shared Focus.

However, when it came down to it, Lightning could care less if she went Cie'th or not. The thought, though it may have come as little surprise to some with whom she found her fate entangled, was most certainly a morbid one. But truth, when it came down to it, was truth. Lightning was not prone to lying. If they dared to ask, she would share her views, but for now, she'd let them carry on with their pointless, time-wasting bickering.

In the end, it all broke down to whether or not she could save Serah anyway.

Lightning was, or rather, had been, always described as a cold, no-nonsense sort of personality. From the outside, she appeared the perfect soldier, without emotions or attachments to weigh her down. Sure, in some respects, those people would have been right, but in others, they were dead wrong. Since the moment her mother succumbed to her illness, since the moment she took up her new mantle, sworn upon her mother's grave, Lightning's life was no longer about herself. Everything she did was for the sake of another.

For Serah. It was a term Lightning often exercised, if only in her head, and it applied to her whole life to that point. Since the day she left Claire in the dust, her motivations had always been the same, silent hopes and wishes; to provide a good life and a bright future for Serah, to protect and ensure her little sister's happiness. It was everything a big sister hoped for a little sister, just taken to an extreme, like a parent for their child. And really? Serah was almost her child, with the role Lightning played in bring her sister up, educating her to the ways of the world, and yet shielding her from their wicked ways. It all broke down to love, her love for her sister, and her sister's future.

So no, Lightning did not particularly care if she became a Cei'th, so long as she could save Serah before she did it, maybe see her sister one last time.

Her thoughts travelled to Snow, who would very soon, all going well, be her brother-in-law—though if asked, Lightning would declare it all going bad, but still. Fleetingly, she wondered if the arguing was over with, for she had been perched atop the mass of rock and stone for going on an hour now…probably not, she decided. Turning her thoughts away from Snow, they instead travelled to the crystal tear that he carried with him, one of the last remnants of Serah.

Many times, their motley crew had played witness to the gentle giant telling nothing and everything to the crystallized fragment, as if somehow the feelings behind the words, even if she could not hear them, would traverse to distance, reach through the depths of crystal sleep to reach Serah. It was both endearing and, at times, laughable. Logically, Lightning knew it was beyond impossible that she could hear them, that is was more likely just another coping mechanism for the self-proclaimed hero. Still, in such a bleak time, it was nice to know that someone still had hope.

Lightning could make no such claim.

Her forehead creasing sharply downward, matching the set of her lips, Lightning allowed her eyes to shift onto the forms of a Behemoth and a pack of Gorgonopsids locked in battle. Bitter, Lightning reflected on her once prided place in the military, could feel the bad taste it left in her mouth, the feeling of being used. Dog eat dog, she mused, thinking back to something Amodar had once told her, though at the time it was about PSICOM, the thought rang true, survival of the fittest up there, huh, Farron?

It was with a deep sense of melancholy that Lightning thought of Lieutenant Amodar; her direct superior, the man who had become somewhat of an unspoken father figure, who had known her better than, perhaps, Lightning knew herself, even if he didn't show it. His loss had hit her surprisingly hard, against all odds. Though Lightning was unsure why she was so worried. Amodar was a part of the Guardian Corps, the military, and was exempt from the Purge; he was probably sitting in the Guardian base in Bodhum, cursing her out for going against his advice and meddling with PSICOM. Maybe it was that knowledge, or the knowledge that he might very well have done what she herself did, and 'gone down with the ship', so to speak. Most of all, perhaps it was knowing that if they were to meet again, it would probably be with him trying to exterminate her. Whatever it was, it was just another thing that made Lightning think wistfully of Bodhum's shattered peace, and those she had once protected, lost, dead, in the Hanging Edge.

"Heh."

Lightning watched as up, up, into the air a Gorgonopsid was thrown, flailing, bloodied and at the verge of death. Hm, survival of the fittest indeed, she thought fleetingly. These days she spent most of her time in thought, simply because there was nothing better to do.

So deeply entrenched in her thoughts was she, that Lightning didn't even notice the person slowly approaching from behind until they body dropped down next to her, a smoothly accented voice breaking through the relative silence, well, Behemoth roars and Gorgonopsid snarls aside.

"Feisty one that one, eh?"

Lightning's eyes shot over, startled out of her thoughts. "Finished arguing for the day?"

Fang wasn't looking at her, instead her emerald eyes, filled with that spark Lightning would always associate with the eccentric Pulsian, were watching the natural order as it progressed. The Behemoth had slaughtered the majority of the Gorgonopsid pack by that point, the only one left was rapidly being mauled by what Lightning knew from experience were thick, sharp teeth. The creatures, pitifully small in comparison to the thick, corded muscle, had stood no chance against the rampaging beast, but the animalistic need to protect their territory had gotten them slaughtered.

"More or less," Fang replied, turning her eyes to Light. "Can only listen to Snow's blabberin' for so long, y'know." Yes, Lightning did now. Snow wasn't exactly high on her list of favorite people, far from it, though he did have his moments. "Maker knows, he isn't the brightest crayon in the box."

Lightning's lips curled out of their frown. "Have they decided yet?"

"Well, you'd know if you weren't sneakin' off on us, Sunshine." Fang's eyes were sparkling with that same light they always got whenever she teased someone, a mischievous twinkle; Lightning knew it well, especially since Fang considered her one of the most amusing to annoy. "But nah, nothing as of yet. Snow and Vanille still want to stay here, do more missions. I don't think they realize that time's ticking away for you guys."

Of course it was 'you guys', not 'us'. Fang didn't need to worry, her brand was scorched and whited out, without a timeframe, free of the worries of becoming a Cie'th. If not for Vanille's active brand, Lightning severely doubted the Pulsian would be with them now. The only reasons, as it stood, that Fang travelled with them was in hopes of fighting their Focus, saving her surrogate sister. It was rather cruel that, if it came down to it, Fang would have to watch them turn Cie'th, but that was life—Lightning wasn't sure she would want that burden, even if maybe she would have considered it a blessing two weeks ago.

Fang looked to the horizon again. "We need to decide. This arguing can't go on, it's just wasting time."

"I know."

And she did, they both did. It was a frustrating topic, but again, one that was no closer to being resolved. Lightning could almost feel her brand progressing under the weight of her stress and concerns, concerns that she kept to herself, rather than burden her companions with. She may not have cared about herself, but it didn't mean she would stand by and watch them turn too. As strange a feeling it was, she was fond of them, would call them friends.

A long moment of silence passed between them, and Lightning took the time to observe Fang. The Pulsian was rather melancholy compared to her usual, almost inappropriate, bravado; she looked troubled, conflicted, which was understandable. Lightning wasn't exactly the picture perfect example of 'together' anyway, though according to others, she was handling it very well. Fang was dressed in her exotic clothing, the blue sari that looked more like a smooth motion of water than clothing, a piece of art, it covered a large portion of what her skimpy underclothes didn't. Lightning herself would never dare wear something so…revealing, but it fit Fang remarkably well, showing off toned muscle and bronze skin.

"We should be movin' on to Oerba. Should have left ages ago," Lightning blinked herself out of her thoughts, eyes flicking up to regard Fang's once more. "I…I don't wanna see any of you go Cie'th. I just got to know ya, it's too soon to lose ya."

"There's still some time left."

Fang narrowed her eyes at her. "How can you be sure? You think you know something we don't?"

"Just…" Lightning looked to the sky. "Just a feeling."

Lightning was telling the truth. For all she could feel time ticking away, she didn't deny the vague sense that they had some way to go before turning Cie'th was a real problem. They had time, sure, but maybe helping the Cie'th Stones wasn't the best way to use it. If Oerba didn't yield results, then they were as good as Cei'th; there would be no time to double back. They were placing blind trust in the ancient village, in the hope that it could save them.

Lightning was a firm pessimist, and even she could not deny the pull towards the city, the feeling of…something waiting there. It was as if all their answers lay in wait there, it was just a matter of resolving themselves to leaving. So far, Lightning had excluded herself from the debate, and even she was tiring of it.

"A hell of a lot of weight to put in a feeling. You sure?"

"…Positive."

Fang sighed. "Well, if you say so. It doesn't mean we should push our luck."

She understood that, of Fang's desire to press forward, in hopes of not playing the horrified witness to her friends' dreadful fate, when she herself would remain frozen. It really wasn't fair on Fang, or any of them that wanted to move on. If time were to run out while they were still doing missions, if they went Cie'th, then they would turn with hatred and guilt in their hearts.

"…I'll have words with Snow," Lightning told Fang after a long moment, looking to the Pulsian. "Perhaps it's best we move forward."

Fang's lips twisted upwards, almost bitterly. "Good luck. He's as stubborn as a Behemoth with a toothache that one."

Surprisingly, Lightning's lips twitched upwards, almost, almost, into a smile. Randomly, the ex-soldier flipped out her survival knife, the blade glinting menacingly in the fading sunlight. "Even a Behemoth can be persuaded using the right means."

Fang barked a laugh. "You know, you're alright. For a Viper."

"Hm."

Lightning made a noncommittal noise, flipping her knife away, tucking it into the side of her boot, eyes turned to the sky. The sunset blazed beautifully on the horizon, something that never happened on Cocoon; for all it was called paradise by its inhabitants, it lacked so much that made Pulse beautiful. If this was hell, then Lightning would rather live in hell.

"Ha! You're a regular chatterbox today, aren't ya, Sunshine?"

Lightning didn't respond, and Fang didn't expect her to, even she knew Light better than that. Instead, they sat together in silence, watching the sun slowly disappear over the mountainous horizon, the Pulsian moon rising to take its place. Both of them just stewed in their own thoughts, together in companionable silence. Before Lightning knew it, Fang was standing next to her, arm outstretched, offering.

"Let's head back, yeah? Before they get themselves killed looking for us."

The soldier nodded. sure enough, she could see Hope and Snow approaching in the distance, yelling something, undoubtedly scouring for them. If they didn't stop soon, Maker knows what king of beast would catch their scent. They, or rather Snow, who was making all the noise, really must have had very little survival instincts. Honestly, she wondered how Snow made it to this point.

Sighing, Lightning grasped Fang's hand tightly in her own and let the Pulsian pull her to her feet, ignoring the sharp shocks that ran up and down her arm. It was always like that with Fang; a strange connection existed between them both, and synchronicity that proved deadly on the battlefield. Lightning had learned to ignore it.

She dusted herself off, adjusting her gunblade sheath.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Let's go."

This had been one of her better nights, against all odds. Gran Pulse was rather peaceful, and Fang's presence wasn't entirely unpleasant. At least she knew when to shut up and leave her alone, unlike some people.

Maybe…maybe Fang was alright too. For a Pulsian.