Chapter 2

A Matter of Honor


(Lightning)

As soon as I saw Hope I could tell that something was wrong with him. He was walking like he was mildly intoxicated, his steps were clumsy and he even tripped over his own foot once. As he got closer and I could make out his expression, it looked like he was uneasy or at least preoccupied by something. My eyebrows twitched, wanting to form a frown, but I kept my face stoic. An odd feeling traveled through me when I saw the haunted look in his green eyes.

"What took you so long? You were supposed to be here almost an hour ago," I began, moving my eyes away from him long enough to search the area behind him. "Where's Snow?"

Guilt flashed like a lightning strike through his eyes so quickly that I almost missed it. All kinds of red flags flew up in my head when cold indifference slid onto his face. Something had definitely happened.

"We got separated. I don't know where he is," he replied, his voice taking on an odd tone that I didn't like.

I approached him slowly, struggling to keep my face calm. I softly laid my hand on his shoulder, hoping that it would get his attention, but he didn't move. He was rooted to the spot, still as a statue, staring down at the ground with an empty gaze.

"Hope," I whispered harshly and when he met my eyes I was caught off guard by the intensity of his stare. "What happened?"

He shook off my hand. "I already told you – we got separated. I don't know where he is."

He brushed past me and right when I was about to grab him and demand answers, something in the back of my mind stopped me. There were about a dozen questions I wanted to assault him with, but my voice wouldn't work and I had no idea why.

Fang walked outside right when Hope was walking in and they collided, the larger woman nearly knocking him on the ground. He didn't say a word as he regained his balance and merely looked in Fang's direction before rushing inside his home. By the confused expression on her face as she watched him depart she was more than likely having the same thoughts I was.

"What's eatin' 'im? Did you say somethin' that rubbed 'im the wrong way?" she asked as she came to stand next to me.

I glanced at her briefly before continuing to stare at the spot the youngest member of our group had been standing in just a few moments ago. "No, it's what he said that concerns me."

"Oh?" she prodded, urging me to continue. One of her dark eyebrows arched suspiciously as she waited for me to answer.

"He said that he got separated from Snow on their way here. He's never given me a reason not to believe him before, but, for the first time since I met him, I've got a feeling he's lying."

I met Fang's gaze and her eyes were narrowed slightly. "Well, there's only one way to find out. I say we go in there and knock the truth out of 'im."

I looked towards the empty doorway and felt my already furrowed brows scrunch together even more. "As much as I agree with you, I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. I've got a bad feeling about this and I hope my assumptions are wrong."

"What d'you think happened?"

"I'll keep that to myself until I know I'm right," I replied, walking inside to see how Hope's reunion with his father was going.

I wasn't really sure what to expect as I walked through the halls of the Estheim's home towards the sitting room. His father, Bartholomew, hadn't been what I was expecting either. Hope had described him as uncaring and generally disinterested when it came to him, but I had discovered that wasn't exactly the truth. The poor man was worried sick about his wife as well as his teenage son. When I continually refused to answer his questions pertaining to what was going on mere moments after we had arrived at his Felix Heights home it only made him more distressed, especially since Hope wasn't yet with us. I had deduced that Bartholomew was like every other parent that was unsure of how to relate to their teenager. I could tell that he genuinely loved his son, but he just didn't know how to express his feelings to him.

Hope better realize how lucky he is to still have his father, I thought as I turned the corner into the main living room.

I could hear muffled voices coming from the small sitting room and approached with mild reluctance, unsure of what I was going to hear or see. I peeked my head just far enough around the corner to see and saw Bartholomew hunched over with his head in his hands. Hope was sitting on a small couch on his father's right side, staring at him like he was seeing him for the first time.

"Nora…" Bartholomew sobbed, his voice overcome with grief.

Hope's nervous fidgeting caught my attention and his uncertainty was painted all over his face. I thought I could detect something else roiling beneath the surface of his façade and my aggravation over the unknown set my nerves on edge.

"Dad, I um… I know…" he stammered, his voice uneasy. I could see his hands quivering from my vantage point. "I'll be in my room."

He rose and I instinctively moved aside, listening intently when Hope spoke again. "We're gonna rest up. Then we'll leave. If they find out you're sheltering l'Cie, they'll – "

I looked back around the corner when a loud thud interrupted Hope. Bartholomew had slammed his fist down on the coffee table, making all the items on top of it jump around like they had suddenly been brought to life. I saw Hope's shoulders scrunch up towards his ears when his father's voice rose above the sound of the television behind me.

"You're my son!" he exclaimed. "This is your home." Hope met his father's gaze then and he stood there as motionless as a statue for only a few seconds before moving to go sit beside him. Bartholomew smiled as he gently laid his hand on his shoulder. "My son."

My mouth twitched as I watched their sentimental exchange. I knew that when all of this l'Cie nonsense was finally over Hope would have somewhere to go back to. I slid into the doorway and leaned up against the door jam, feeling a tiny pang of regret at having to break up their moment. I needed to talk to Hope alone and it couldn't wait any longer.

Bartholomew noticed me almost immediately. I saw Hope shift uncomfortably out of the corner of my eye and wondered briefly if he knew what was coming.

"What can I do for you, Lightning?" he asked, moving his hand away from his son's shoulder.

"I need to speak with Hope," I replied, looking at the small silver haired teen that was sitting on his father's right.

"Of course," Bartholomew said, reaching up to squeeze Hope's shoulder one last time before he rose from the couch. I met the older man's eyes as he walked past me and I was momentarily confused by his expression. It seemed as though he was almost reluctant to leave us alone.

Once Bartholomew had joined Fang in the living room, I slowly slid the door shut halfway then went to stand in front of the coffee table, staring down at Hope with an empty expression. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and refused to meet my gaze.

The silence between us grew thick and my chest tightened painfully. The fact that he wouldn't tell me what was bothering him upset me. He'd been so open with me on our journey here and not knowing how I could help him now was immensely aggravating. I propped my hands on my hips and dug my fingertips into my leather miniskirt, fighting to keep my emotions in check.

"What's going on, Hope?" I said just loud enough for him to hear.

He looked up at me, his eyes as hard as emeralds, and I was briefly taken aback by how serious it made him look. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered harshly.

His attitude was confusing me more and more every second. What was the catalyst? My frustration was quickly turning into anger. "You know damn well what I'm talking about," I growled, keeping my voice low so our conversation wouldn't spill into the other room. "Where's Snow?"

I caught a brief flicker of something in his hardened expression and I would have missed it if I wasn't being observant. His mask slid back into place a moment later and a sense of helplessness washed over me. "I already told you," he mumbled, his voice flat. "We got separated. I tried looking for him but, by then it was already getting late." He paused and narrowed his eyes at me. "Why do you care so much about him anyway? When all of this started whether or not he lived or died didn't matter to you."

The accusation in his tone sounded vaguely possessive, making my confusion double. "You of all people should know the answer to that. Everything I do, I do for my sister," I snapped, feeling my voice nearly stumble when I thought about Serah. I clamped my lips together to prevent Hope from seeing them quiver. I took a deep breath and rubbed my face with one hand while I regained my composure. "Snow has been the only constant in her life for a while. It's up to me to make sure he's still around when she wakes up." Even though I still didn't like Snow that much I knew my sister needed him.

Hope's entire demeanor changed instantly. He hung his head and drug his fingers through his hair, looking as if an enormous weight had been dumped on his shoulders. I could see his hands shaking from where they were gripping his scalp and I knew something wasn't right. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. Every cell in my body wanted to go to him and force the truth out of him by whatever means necessary.

But, before I could register what was going on, Hope rose from his seat on the couch and went to walk past me. My hand moved automatically, flying over faster than I thought possible to latch onto his wrist before he had the chance to escape. He tried to rip his arm out of my grasp, but I tightened my grip and turned toward him, determination burning in my eyes.

"I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong," I whispered, trying to communicate my concern through my eyes.

"I don't want your help," he retorted sharply, refusing to look at me.

I was so stunned by his reply that I dropped his hand like he had struck me. I had never heard his voice sound so cold since I had met him. I watched him walk away from me, my feet rooted to the floor, feeling more lost than I had felt in a long time.

Once I had collected myself satisfactorily, I emerged from the sitting room to find Fang and Bartholomew lounging in front of the big screen television; Hope was nowhere to be seen. The 'l'Cie threat' was all over the news and I screwed my face up in disgust as the female reporter on the screen went on and on about how we were a 'band of soulless monsters'. I forcibly shifted my focus away from Hope, if only for a few moments, so I could regain my bearings. I glanced down at my gloved hands, the woman's words echoing in my head. I was almost willing to agree with her. The things I could do now… How much stronger and faster than I was before almost scared me sometimes. It almost made me feel like I really was a monster.

But I'm not, I thought, tightening my hands into fists. I'm still the same person. No matter what anyone else says.

The sudden thought that losing his mother, not being turned into an enemy of the only home he's ever known, changed Hope. After all, he was technically still a child. If he felt anything like Serah and I had felt over the loss of our own parents, I knew what he was going through. I was the only one that could relate with him. I sighed and crossed my arms as I approached Fang and Bartholomew, who still hadn't noticed me.

"Fang," I called as I walked past them. I needed to talk to her, but I didn't want Bartholomew to hear what I was about to say. I paused next to a decorative end table in the middle of the hallway and stared down at the photographs arranged on top.

"What's up?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"You know that bad feeling I had earlier?" I began, looking into her dark eyes earnestly.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I just tried talking to Hope again." I paused and tried to put reason to what had just happened between us, but arrived at the same conclusion every time.

"You think he did something to Snow?" she asked, obviously coming to her own conclusions.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, wishing I didn't have to speak the accusation in my mind aloud. I wouldn't be able to get any closer to the truth if Fang didn't believe me. She was the only one I could confide in right now. I sure as hell wasn't going to tell Bartholomew that his son was a murderer.

"Spit it out, Lightning," Fang prodded, drumming her fingers on the table's surface impatiently.

I nodded and breathed in deeply through my nose. "I think Hope killed Snow."

I was prepared for the dead silence that followed my confession. Fang's thoughts probably hadn't gone that far. "You're kidding, right?" she asked, her eyes visibly wider.

"I wish I was," I replied, folding my arms loosely over my stomach. The knot in my throat was slowly getting bigger and I knew it wouldn't be long before it choked me.

"What makes you think that?" she asked as she glanced over my shoulder, making sure Bartholomew wasn't coming over.

"Because he told me he was going to take out his revenge for his mother's death against Snow. I thought I had talked him out of it."

"Well whatever you said apparently didn't do the trick. How are we gonna get him to tell us the truth?" she asked, continuing to look over my shoulder.

"I don't know," I replied, absentmindedly rubbing the back of my neck. I hadn't exactly asked him straight out if he had taken out his revenge on Snow. I had been hoping he would confess without me having to ask, which was wishful thinking on my part.

"Where's Hope got to now?" Fang inquired.

"I think he went to his room," I muttered, glancing over my shoulder at Bartholomew. He was sitting on the couch with his eyes glued to the television screen, none the wiser about what we were talking about.

To be so blissfully unaware, I thought. I wish I had that luxury right now.

"We need to get the truth out of him. Maybe if we both take 'im on…" she suggested. I could hear the cold, calculated huntress side in her voice, and I didn't like it. Hope may not have been with us by choice, but he was still our comrade. I didn't want Fang treating him like he was our enemy.

"Let's give him some space," I said, suddenly feeling intuition strike me. "At the end of the day he's still a child. If he really did kill Snow his conscious is probably eating away at him as we speak. Just don't mention anything to his father."

"I'm not that thick," she remarked. "What are we supposed to do until he decides to come clean? Just sit and act like everything's peachy?"

"Yes, that's exactly what we're going do," I whispered harshly. "We won't get any closer to the truth if we try to force it out of him. Plus, I'm still waiting to see if Snow shows up. What if they really did get separated? If so, I don't want to accuse him before we know he's guilty."

"You act like we have all the time in the world. In case you've forgotten, we're still l'Cie on the run from the Sanctum. We can't sit around and wait for Hope to tell us what happened. We don't have that luxury," Fang reasoned, propping her hands on her hips.

I knew she was right, but something was telling me to give Hope the benefit of the doubt. "I know that. Just trust me on this."

The muscles in her jaw tightened, but she nodded her head stiffly. I wanted to get to the bottom of this as much as she did, but my judgment had been tainted by the connection I had forged with Hope on our journey together. I wanted so badly to believe him. If he really had killed Snow… I didn't even want to think about that yet.

"Fine then," Fang said as she walked past me.

I stayed where I was for a few moments, leaning up against the table and heaving a tired sigh. I just wanted to go to sleep and forget about all of this. Ignorance was bliss, after all.

When I finally made my way back into the living room both Bartholomew and Fang were gone. I followed the muffled shuffling and banging coming from down the hallway, finding them both in the kitchen. Bartholomew was rooting around in the cupboards while Fang was standing near the back wall, staring out the window. There wasn't much to see besides the lights of Palumpolum but I knew she wasn't standing there by choice. She wasn't happy with me about my decision to wait and it was probably driving her mad. I turned to Bartholomew who was staring at the contents of the fridge with a lost expression.

He caught me looking at him and chuckled nervously. "Nora was the cook." His voice broke then and I could see his eyes glistening from behind his glasses. He reached a hand up and attempted to wipe them dry. "Forgive me, my wife's death is proving quite difficult to deal with."

"Understandable." I paused as he went to sit at the dining room table, sinking into one of the chairs like a marionette whose strings had been cut. "You've already done enough by offering us shelter. Don't feel like you need to cook us dinner as well. I'm sure we can manage on our own."

"It's the least I can do," he replied, his voice sounding like it was on the verge of breaking again. "You kept my son safe. I won't ever be able to repay you for that."

I didn't quite know how to respond to his compliment so I changed the subject. "We'll be leaving early in the morning. Hope needs to come with us."

"Yes, I know," Bartholomew replied, hanging his head. "He wouldn't be safe here." He looked up and stared at me with a strange expression on his face. "You'll protect him?"

I wasn't quite sure if he was asking me or telling me, but I nodded all the same. But how am I going to protect him from himself? I thought with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I won't let you down," I answered, fully intending to keep my promise whatever the circumstances.

He left the kitchen without another word and went elsewhere. That was the end of our conversation for the rest of the night.

I let Fang handle dinner, as it had never been my strong suit. Serah had handled all of that after our parents had passed. Cleaning up after her had been my responsibility. Remembering what my sister had been like growing up only made me think of her current predicament now and my mood immediately turned dark. I hated being reminded of how uncertain the future was when I thought of her.

My train of thought was interrupted when Fang set a plate of food in front of me. I frowned down at the assortment of different items and briefly wondered if she had gone to a buffet. I couldn't have cared less though. I hadn't eaten since early this morning so I was happy with whatever she had managed to scrounge together.

"I didn't even know what half of the stuff in his fridge was. Sorry if any of it isn't edible. That's what I get for being in crystal stasis for so long, eh?" she joked, more than likely trying to lighten up the mood.

"It's not like you had control over it," I replied, idly picking at what she had prepared.

Our conversation didn't go much farther than that, although she continually drilled me on what I was going to do about getting the truth out of Hope. She was beginning to sound like a broken record. Her sense of urgency wasn't lost on me, but it was beginning to get aggravating. It didn't matter how many times I told her I had the situation handled. She insisted on bringing it up every chance she got.

After helping Fang clean up the kitchen, Bartholomew set up the guest bedroom so we could get some sleep. The fact that there was a separate bed for each of us – a small couch that folded out and a twin sized bed – sent a wave of relief through me. I hadn't shared a bed with anyone but my sister and that wasn't going to be changing anytime soon. While I watched Bartholomew fold out the bed from the couch, I looked over my shoulder into the hallway, my mind whirring with concern for Hope. I already had an idea of how I was going to get the truth out of him, but I was choosing to keep it to myself, mostly because I didn't want Fang getting involved. Hope was my responsibility.

"Mr. Estheim," I began, a strange feeling of pressure suddenly falling over me.

He straightened, firmly rubbing the base of his back, and turned to me. "Yes?"

"Thank you," I blurted. "Everything you've done for us... You're too generous."

He smiled and shook his head before continuing to spread the sheets over the mattress. "I know Hope didn't mean to befriend any of you, but I'm glad he did. It's the least I can do, really."

I propped my hands on my hips and bit down on the inside of my cheek hard. I could feel myself stalling when I should have been putting my plan into motion. What was keeping me from getting to the bottom of this? You know what it is, my mind whispered to me. It was the fear that I was right. I knew the longer I stalled the longer I could pretend that everything was fine. If I kept expecting Snow to waltz in the door with a cocky smile on his face then Hope was still innocent.

I left the guest bedroom as quickly as I possibly could without looking like I was running away. I had the urge to step outside to get some fresh air, but ended up gripping the back of a chair in the living room so tightly that my knuckles turned white. I was so preoccupied with the tumult in my head that I didn't notice it when Fang came up beside me.

"You are thinking about this way too much," she said, disapproval evident in her voice.

I tried not to act surprised by her sudden appearance, but failed miserably. "Don't remind me," I snapped, unable to keep my temper in check any longer.

"I suggest you go find him and refuse to leave him be until he gives you the truth. This is getting on my nerves," she urged, firmly wrapping her hand around my shoulder to stress her point.

My mouth tightened into a grim line as I looked at her. I had known she was right from the beginning; I just hadn't wanted to admit it. "Wish me luck," I said, walking away from her and striding down the hall in search of Hope's room before I had the chance to change my mind.

I paused at what I assumed was his door. The light from within was filtering out into the hallway and I was suddenly wishing that he was asleep so I could carry out my plan with more ease. I curled my hand over the metal door handle and stared down at it like it was going to spontaneously tell me all the answers I needed. After taking a deep breath to prepare myself for whatever was going to come next, I pushed the door open.

I stopped in the doorway, taking a few seconds to examine my surroundings, as I searched for Hope. His room looked a lot like mine had when I was fourteen. It had all the necessities that a bedroom needed, but unique in its simplicity. My eyes settled on Hope's form slumped over his desk and I felt a smile tugging on the corners of my mouth, both at the sight and convenience of the scene in front of me. I swiftly but quietly closed the door behind me and approached the sleeping teen with only one thing in mind.

Finding my knife.

If he killed Snow, some evidence had to have been left behind on it. I really was hoping that I wouldn't find anything incriminating, but the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach was telling me different. My hands were shaking as I peered over his shoulder and my breath caught in my throat when I saw what he was lying on. I could only see one corner of the photograph of his mother, but I was pretty sure a much younger Hope was in the picture as well. Small droplets of moisture, which I assumed were tears, were splattered across the surface. My chest constricted painfully as I wished there was something more I could do for him.

Stay focused! I thought, remembering why I had come in here.

I took a deep breath to calm myself and continued to search for my knife. It wasn't on his desk or his bed. I didn't think he would have hid it, so all that I had left to search was his person. Going through his pockets would be difficult because I risked waking him up. The last thing I needed was him to think I was being inappropriate. After covertly checking his front and side pockets only the back ones were left and my nerves were shot. If it wasn't in one of those, I was at a loss for what to do next.

I heaved an enormous sigh of relief when I saw it sticking out of his right back pocket. My heart was pounding in my ears as I slowly began to extract it. He twitched in his sleep when I had almost pulled it out and I froze, watching him like a hawk. The seconds ticked by like hours as I cautiously pulled the knife from his pocket a millimeter at a time. Once it was in my hand I backed a few paces away and stared down at it. The answer to all of my questions was right here in my grasp. This was it.

I flicked the blade open and my stomach plummeted through the floor. A dark brown streak of dried blood painted the top portion of the blade. I felt my stomach turn.

My mouth dropped open in horror as my gaze moved from the knife to Hope's back. He had really done it. He had killed Snow.

My shock erupted into anger when I realized that he had been lying to me from the second he got home. The corners of my mouth turned down into a disgusted sneer as my hand tightened around the survival knife I had given him to help keep him safe. I had never intended for him to use it like this.

My temper flared white-hot and I slammed my clenched fist down on the desk mere inches from his head. Hope jolted in fright and fell out of his chair in a stupor, still half asleep. His dreamy looking eyes widened when he saw me standing over him. I could practically see the blood draining from his face. I tossed my knife onto his stomach, but his terrified gaze never left mine.

"You lied to me," I seethed, the intensity of my voice cutting through the air between us like a knife. "Why?"

"I-I'm sorry, Light," he stammered, scooting along the floor until his back was pushed up against his bed. "I was scared. I didn't know what to do."

"Then you should have come to me for help!" I exclaimed, my voice raising a little higher than I intended. "You should have taken me up on my offer instead of shoving it back in my face." I paused to take a deep breath, the rush of adrenaline through my veins making it almost impossible to stay calm. "And I thought I told you that Operation Nora was over. Why didn't you listen to me?"

His throat convulsed as he swallowed, his eyes beginning to glisten. "I had to do it," he answered, his voice still quivering.

"Hope, I don't think you realize how serious this is. You killed him," I said, jabbing my finger at the knife that was still lying on his stomach. "Your mother is never coming back and now neither is Snow. Do you think she would be proud of you right now if she knew what you did?"

The conviction in my words made him bow his head in shame. A moment later, his shoulders began to shake. "No, she wouldn't," he sobbed, his voice thick.

I reached down and ripped him off the floor by the collar of his shirt. "You're taking me to him," I growled, my face uncomfortably close to his. I was close enough to see the fear and unshed tears swirling through his green irises. I hated scaring him like this, but I was done playing games.

"Now?" he asked incredulously, his bottom lip quivering.

"Yes, now!" I answered, nearly screaming it at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and cringed away from me. "The fact that the Sanctum hasn't found him yet is unbelievable. I don't think we should push our luck any farther."

"How do you know they haven't found him yet?" Hope asked, trying his hardest to keep up his defensive front even though he was absolutely terrified.

I dropped him then without warning, suddenly wanting to be as far away from him as I could possibly get, and watched him land unceremoniously on the floor. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?" I asked, my eyes wide in bewilderment. "His dead body would have been splashed all over the news. People would have been dancing in the streets, Hope! And you want to know the worst part? Your father would have had to see what you did to Snow." Even though I had said it, those words still hit me like a ton of bricks. Personally, had that actually been the case, I would've had no idea how to react. Finding out the truth from a biased television reporter would have been like a cold slap to the face.

"You wouldn't tell him, would you?" he rasped, his eyes darting between my hardened expression and the door like his dad was going to barge in any second.

"No," I answered, leaning over him menacingly. "But I'm going to get very angry if you don't bring me to where you left him right now."

"But-but how are we going to get past Fang and my d-dad?" he stammered as he attempted to stand. His entire body was shaking so much that he couldn't even regain his balance by himself.

I growled in frustration as I once again grabbed hold of his collar and hefted him to his feet. "Leave that to me," I replied, keeping my grip on his shirt as I led him toward the door.

Sneaking out of Hope's house was the easy part. Bartholomew had already retired – and so had Fang – and the house was dark. Hope removed his yellow and orange jacket, leaving on his green scarf and black undershirt, so he wouldn't stand out too much.

Once we were back on the streets of Palompolum, navigating got just a little more difficult. Sanctum patrols were constantly going up and down both sides of the streets, which seriously impeded our progress. Even though Hope was leading me through all the back alleys we still had to be careful because about every five to ten minutes one of the PSICOM soldiers would come into the alley and shine a bright spotlight back and forth for about thirty seconds. Keeping to the shadows was the only course of action available to us.

When we finally reached the alley way that Hope had left Snow in, my legs locked up. I had seen my fair share of dead bodies, but I had never – and would never – get used to the sight of them. Hope paused next to a large wooden crate and waved me over as he stared down at something out of my view and I suddenly felt nauseous. My chest constricted tighter and tighter with each step, my anxiety threatening to choke me.

Not many people besides my sister, Snow and myself know that my parents had died within a year of each other, not at the same time. Having to deal with the loss of my father and then my mother shortly after that had nearly driven Serah and I mad. Attending two different funerals and looking down at my parents as they laid peacefully in their caskets had been like torture. After our mother had passed, the fact that we were alone had us crying ourselves to sleep during the first couple weeks. The grieving process hadn't been easy for either of us.

I hadn't realized that I had stopped next to Hope until I looked down and saw Snow's motionless body lying in a pool of coagulated blood. Miraculously, I kept my outward reaction relatively calm even though I felt like screaming and running away. I was almost glad that there was hardly any light to see by just so I didn't have to see any detail.

The smell by itself made me cover my mouth and nose with my hand and turn away. He had only been dead for a few hours, but the muggy weather of Palompolum wasn't exactly hospitable to dead bodies. Now that I could see Snow with my own eyes, see what Hope had done to him, my anger was beginning to come back full force. I slowly wrapped my left hand tightly around his shoulder, my knuckles turning stark white against his black shirt. I saw his head shift slightly out of the corner of my eye.

"Get a nice long look at this," I said, not bothering to look at him. "When my sister wakes up you're going to tell her exactly what you did."

I knew that the image of Snow lying dead at my feet would be burned into my memory for a very long time. When Hope's silence stretched on for an unnatural amount of time I risked glancing over at him and nearly gasped at what I saw.

He was crying.

Once all of my attention was on him, I noticed his shoulder quaking beneath my hand. Tears were leaking steadily from his eyes, creating skinny trails that shimmered in the meager light shining down from Eden. I blinked in surprise at his change in attitude. A few hours ago he was acting like killing Snow hadn't even affected him, like he had enjoyed it almost. Now, after the realization of what he had done sank in, it was a completely different story. I removed my hand from his shoulder so quickly an outside observer would have thought his shirt had suddenly become searing hot. He met my gaze and the helplessness I saw in his eyes was staggering.

"Light, I don't know what to do," he sobbed, his voice cracking. "What do I do?"

I clenched and unclenched my fists as I turned toward him. "Hope, you don't understand," I stressed, my frustration threatening to boil over. "There's nothing I can do for you now. I told you that Operation Nora was over. How many times do I have to tell you that I was wrong before you start listening to me? Why didn't you just let it go?" My hands were shaking so bad that it looked like I was shivering, but that couldn't have been any farther from the truth. I wanted nothing more than to grab Hope and shake him till his teeth rattled, but I knew that wouldn't solve anything.

"I had to do it!" Hope exclaimed, his voice rising about half an octave. Tears were continuing to fall from his eyes as he spoke. "He had to answer for what he did!"

"No, not like this!" I shouted back, jabbing a judgmental finger down at Snow's lifeless body. "This could have been handled differently! As much as I disliked him I don't think he deserved to die."

"You're supposed to be on my side, Light!" the teen cried, backing up against the stone wall a few feet behind him, bunching his hands into his hair in frustration and yanking on it.

My patience had reached it end. I crossed the small distance between us quicker than I thought possible and wrapped my hands aggressively around his upper arms, hefting him up to my eye level. He hadn't expected me to move as swiftly as I had so when my blazing blue gaze met his terrified green one, he gasped and tried to squirm out of my grasp. I dug my fingertips even deeper into his arms and slammed him up against the wall.

"I am on your side!" I bellowed, not really caring if the Sanctum heard me. "Why didn't you come to me for help?"

"I-I'm…sorry. S-S-Sorry," he sobbed, hanging his head in shame. "I-I…was s-scared."

I set him back down on the ground, albeit not so gently, and walked away from him. I made an entire lap around the dead end alleyway before coming to stand beside Snow. Saying that I was upset about all of this was a severe understatement. This was going to break my sister's heart, I just knew it. I stared down into his dull, lifeless eyes and knew that wherever he was now, it was a lot better than here, on Cocoon, constantly on the run from the Sanctum. He could rest now.

I risked a glance back at Hope, the corners of my mouth turning down when I saw his face stuffed into his knees. Once again, I wished there was something I could do for him, but it was too little too late. As I turned back to look at Snow one last time I ignited a Fira spell in my hand and said my piece to him in my head while the magic charged. Once the spell was ready, I lifted my hand and stared into the swirling flames for a moment, wondering if what I was about to do was the right thing. Before I could overanalyze it any longer I directed the spell at him and squinted my eyes at the bright flash that engulfed him in the searing flames. I stood there for an indefinite amount of time watching the fire consume him. The last thing I wanted was for the Sanctum to find him and splash pictures of his dead face all over every television screen in Cocoon. I knew, in the end, this is what he would have wanted.

When I turned away from Snow for the last time Hope was staring wide eyed at me like what I had just done was ten times more appalling than what he had done. I paused for a moment and took a second to just look at him. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy from how much he had been crying. He looked weary and much older than fourteen, something I could sympathize with. Seeing death at such a young age had completely changed me. Now that Hope had not only witnessed his mother's death, but also killed someone I knew his innocence was gone.

"Let's go," I said, marching past him without looking down.

He scrambled to catch up with me, continuing to stare over his shoulder at Snow's burning body. "Why'd you do – " His speech was cut off when I yanked him into a dark doorway as a PSICOM patrol came around the corner ahead. I clamped my hand over his mouth as they passed, my most powerful Thunder spell charging at the edge of my mind just in case they saw us.

The soldier passed by without noticing us, but he headed right toward the alleyway that Snow was still burning in and I knew he was going to see that. I watched the retreating back of the patrol, wanting to wait until he was a little farther away until Hope and I made a run for it.

"Alright, run now!" I urged, taking my hand away from his mouth and pushing him into the street. "Keep going until I tell you to stop!"

Hope took off down the street as fast as he could, needing no further prodding from me, looking back only once to make sure I was following him. I quickly overtook him to make sure he didn't run headlong into another patrol. My heart was pounding in my ears, waiting to hear the inevitable alarm sound that I knew was coming.

Even though I was ready for it, I still jolted when the sirens started blaring. All around me I saw lights coming on in windows that had been dark just moments ago and that's when I started to panic. I slowed down so Hope could pass me. The last thing I wanted was him getting captured.

"Keep going!" I called just loud enough for him to hear me. "Don't you dare slow down!"

About a block later we were forced to hide again when a large group of PSICOM soldiers came running down the street. I heard them talking amongst themselves about a body that had been found burning in an alley. So far, none of the soldiers that were already there couldn't identify it. The only thing that they could confirm is that l'Cie magic was used to destroy it. I couldn't help but sigh in relief. The Sanctum wouldn't have any reason to celebrate if they didn't know one of us had been killed.

It took us almost as long to get back to Hope's house as it did for us to find Snow. I was so physically and emotionally exhausted that I could have laid down in the middle of the front yard and fallen right to sleep, not caring if I was discovered or not. I was almost wishing for tonight to be some kind of horrible nightmare and that when I woke up in the morning everything would be back to normal. Of course, I knew it wasn't that simple. Nothing in this life ever was.

I spotted Fang crouching in the shadows of the front door with her spear ready as we crept from the stairs to join her. "About time you two got back," she said, sounding irritated. "Heard ya leave and I've been waitin' ever since." She paused and shot me a knowing glance, only one question shining in her dark eyes. "Well?"

"I was right," I answered, not at all proud to be speaking those words. I covered half my face with one of my hands as I leaned up against the wall. All the raw emotions I had experienced earlier were slowly making me numb.

She chuckled, but I knew she didn't think what I had said was funny. "Shit," she cursed, glancing over at Hope. I could tell she wanted to say something to him but instead chose to stay silent, something that rather surprised me.

I turned my head just enough to get a quick look at Hope, the guilt and shame in his expression earlier had been translated to the rest of his body. He had slumped against the side of his house beside me, looking as limp as a wet noodle. I could still see tears falling from his eyes, making damp spots on his black shirt. It almost hurt to see him like this. I sighed to myself, worried about what he would become now that he had killed someone. He was still just a child. He should have never had to make such a grown up decision.

This should have never happened, I thought with disdain, bringing my gaze back to Fang.

"What now?" she asked, tightening her hands around her spear.

"I don't know," I replied, shaking my head. For the first time since my parents passing I really had no idea what to do. I had people depending on me for answers and I was the one wishing I had someone to turn to.

Serah, I wish you were here…