Chapter 2 ~ The Promise

We all meet different people everyday. Whenever we met one another, before we made that final promise—we went on, never knowing that the first connection had been made. Some of those connections we make fade over time—they stagnate, or change, or are replaced by others. But the one bond that could never, ever be broken was that of two sisters, linked by more than just blood. One that not even Sephiroth was able to sever.

She had only been here before once—high-ranking Shinra personnel weren't, after all, normally stationed out in the slums—but it was easy to track down her destination: a bar, known as the 7th Heaven, where her sister worked as a bartender. Snow and AVALANCHE had already stormed in, scaring out all the civilians to free up the place for their secret meeting—and from the number of people streaming out of the doors, quite a number of Sector 7's residents were drinkers.

One, however, caught Lightning's eye: a tall, dark-haired woman whose rather revealing clothing consisted of something that Light could only describe as… primitive. A foreigner, perhaps? The woman was being herded out of the bar, and she shook her fist at Snow angrily. From her appearance alone Light gathered that she was not inexperienced in combat, and for a heartbeat she expected a fight to erupt—but a familiar figure rushed out of the bar, coming between the wild woman and Snow: Lightning's younger sister, Serah. She was apologizing profusely to the customer that Snow had chased out, handing to her what appeared to be a full refund in gil. The gift didn't seem to fully appease the strange woman, but the worst of her anger had passed; she snatched the proffered gil, and walked away grumbling. Serah shouted a last apology before returning inside the bar.

Snow stood guard just outside the bar, using his height and size to his advantage whenever some curious eye drew towards him. When he spotted Lightning, the man waved cheerfully in recognition. Another eyeroll on the former SOLDIER's part—her respect for him as a resistance leader was sinking, and fast. "Go right on in," he told her, letting her pass.

"Daddy—ah!" A little girl, perhaps four or five, realized that the woman wasn't her father—whoever the irresponsible idiot was, leaving a child of that age in a bar of all places. The girl scampered back to the counter, hiding behind another woman's legs.

"Claire!"

"It's Lightning."

That did not deter the young eighteen-year old. Serah Farron only smiled at Lightning's grouchiness—and immediately rushed forward to her sister with open arms. "Welcome back! Did you have any trouble…?"

Lightning crossed her arms, looked to the side, and scoffed. Trouble? That was another word for the man, she supposed. "What was up with that woman Snow chased out?"

"Oh, she only came here asking about someone she had lost—if we'd seen her anywhere near here." Almost as if Serah could read her mind: "You didn't fight with Snow, did you?"

She would have had much and more to say about Snow Villiers, when said man barged in behind her. "Daddy!" The young girl escaped from behind Serah's skirts to greet him. Snow laughed, lifted her up high, and placed her easily on his shoulder. "Daddy, I missed you!"

Serah must have seen the look of shock and disgust on Light's face. "That's Marlene," she explained, smiling as Snow twirled the girl around. "I look after her when he's… out."

Lightning wondered who the mother was. Given her opinion of Snow thus far, she wasn't surprised if he happened to be a divorcee of a hasty, immature marriage and saddled with the monetary burdens of child custody. "Come on, both of you," Snow directed to them, carrying the giggling child on his shoulder towards the pinball machine against the wall. "The others are already downstairs, right?" Without waiting for an answer, he pressed a button on the side of the machine. The entire thing—Snow, the machine, and the wooden platform it rested upon—traveled slowly downwards. Light distinctly remembered—that was their so-called secret hideout, wasn't it?

Lightning was about to follow as soon as the machine rose again, but Serah stopped her. "All work and no play," scolded her younger sister. "Out from one dangerous mission and on to the next—why don't I fix you a drink?" Serah beckoned invitingly towards the counter—but Lightning shook her head. "Oh, come on—oh! A flower, Light?"

Lightning produced the petite flower from her carrying pouch and proffered it to Serah. "It's something I bought," she explained, "on the way." The small white flower had miraculously survived the rough journey on the way back to the hideout. Of course, it would have to be sturdier than the average flora to have been grown in the environmental wreck of lower Midgar…

"Hello," a voice called to the ex-SOLDIER from amidst the chaos. The bomb had sent people scattering in all directions in fear and shock as the power went out for a few agonizing minutes. Lightning turned around—it was another kid, around the age of Maqui and Yuj: 16, or perhaps 17. He had a basket of flowers dangling at the crook of his arm. "What's going on, miss?"

Perhaps it was the military appearance of Lightning, and her uniform, that caused him to ask that. Light shrugged, decided to lie. "Not sure, but it's chaos out here. Why don't you go back home?" The boy with the spiky blonde hair was about to turn, perhaps take her advice… but something made her call out to him: "Don't see many flowers around here." Actually, the basket made him an eyesore—what sort of man would be carrying around flowers?

"Oh, these?" The young man scratched the back of his head with his free hand, embarrassed. "I'm just selling them for my sister." When Lightning did not reply, he held the basket to her. "It's only one gil for one flower," he said enticingly.

Huh. It was true, flowers were rare in this city—the entire area where Midgar was built upon, as well as the surrounding countryside for miles all around, was devoid of flora, because of all the Mako that Shinra was sucking out—and it could be a rare, heartfelt gift for her Serah that at the same time didn't bankrupt her. Light pulled out a small coin from her pack, flipped it to the boy, and picked out a white flower. "Thanks, miss!"

"A boy selling flowers, huh?" Serah giggled as Lightning tucked the flower into her hair. "You see something new everyday, I guess…" With a final, fierce hug, Serah whispered, "Welcome home."

"This isn't home, Serah." Lightning held her sister at arm's length. "Not yet." With that she followed Snow and the others down into the basement, where she'd have to settle this issue with her money—civilly or with her gunblade in hand, either way was fine with her as long as it was Snow's face on the receiving end of the firearm.

The atmosphere of the hideout reminded her of those birthday parties back home at Nibelheim: cheering, smiles that quite nearly went ear to ear. The large television placed on one side of the room showed a shot of the explosion they had caused, and the news anchor covering the breaking news story was reassuring the people to stay calm, that Shinra would protect them from the destructive terrorist organization known as AVALANCHE—"All because of our bomb," Maqui boasted over the coverage. "We're literally famous! Look at that blast!"

While Maqui and Yuj argued over who had contributed most to the creation of the bomb—which, Lightning suspected involved more contribution from some pyromaniac's computer website than anything else—she walked up to Snow, who was entertaining Marlene. "Villiers." At first the man pretended not to hear her, laughing in an uproar over some joke Gadot popped out, but Lightning slammed her fist down on the table beside them. "Villiers."

"Oh—Lightning!" Snow ignored the anger in Lightning's face when he nonchalantly offered her a drink. "Relax, sis, it was a mission well done—"

"I'm not your sister." The room had gotten quiet, the only sound coming from the news on the television. "We had a deal. After the mission, you'd—"

"Wait!" It was Serah, who had followed her down; she threw herself between her and Snow. She twined her arm with his, and the look they shared should have told Light everything—but no, she had faith in her sister. She had faith that Serah wouldn't do something as stupid and idiotic as going ahead and—

"Lightning, Serah and I… are engaged."

For a heartbeat, the ex-SOLDIER did not understand the simple statement. It was when her sister confirmed it with the embarrassed look on her face that Lightning reacted. "What?" When neither moved to defend themselves, she continued. "I ask you about my pay, and you bring this up?" She let out a laugh—a forced, choked laugh. "Full points for guts, Villiers.

"This is a suicide group. Sure, you lucked out today—but once Shinra starts sending some real SOLDIER members down, you won't be so lucky. You'll always be on the run, once they find out about this little hideout. And you think you can say to my face that you're going to be marrying my sister?"

"We're not getting married until everything is over with," Serah protested. Lightning glared at her, but her sister was not so easy to cow. "After everything settles down, we can move to somewhere nice and quiet like Kalm—"

Snow punched his fist into an open palm. "Once we pull the fat Shinra corporates off their thrones, we'll be able to raise a family that won't have to live in a dump like this—"

"Once you do? Didn't you hear me, Villiers?" Lightning drew her gunblade, clicked it into a saber, and pointed it at Snow's face. Gasps from all around the room—yet no one moved to stop her. "This is Shinra. They aren't a bunch of kids playing at war." At the word kids, her eyes traveled around the room and settled on Yuj and Maqui. "How could you possibly think you could defeat Shinra with the likes of these, without endangering Serah?"

"Claire, I—"

"And you." Lightning did not point her weapon at her sister, but her blue eyes burned with disapproval. "What possessed you to tag along with them?"

Snow answered for her. "For the good of the Planet, Lightning—"

"Shut up." If he was going to launch into yet another speech about some bullshit about the 'good of the Planet', she was going to have to pull the trigger. All this idealism and naïveté was making her sick. "I'm out." She slipped her weapon back into its holster, satisfied when that single action released all the visible tension in the room. "I'm going upstairs. And I want to talk about my money, Villiers. Now."

"Listen, Clai—Lightning. I'm asking you—please join us."

"In what? Your doomed marriage or your suicide mission?"

Serah let out a defeated sigh. "We won't bring up the engagement again, I promise. Not until everything's over and we can settle down someplace nice, together." She paused, as if waiting for Lightning to step away from the exit or to take a seat. Lightning only crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. Say what you want, her eyes told Serah, and say it quick, before I walk out of here. "It really is about the Planet, Light—it's dying. Slowly, but surely, it's dying. Someone has to do something."

"Then leave it to Snow and his gang. It has absolutely nothing to do with you, and especially not me."

"So you're just going to leave?" Serah asked angrily. "You're going to walk out on your sister?"

Lightning wanted nothing more than to be able to walk away from that, without a backwards glance… and yet she knew, much to her chagrin that she could not. Her sister meant much more to her than that. "I'm not going to leave you."

"Then what are you doing now?" Before Lightning could reply to that, Serah had donned a look of hurt, and accusation entered her voice. "You've forgotten the promise we made, haven't you?"

"What promise?"

Serah took a step back, hesitant—then took a seat at one of the abandoned tables. "I can't believe you've already forgotten. Remember—it was seven years ago, in Nibelheim…"

A fourteen-year-old Lightning—no, Claire Farron—sat on the platform of the town's water tower, swinging her legs over the edge impatiently as she waited. Finally her sister arrived, sleepy but curious. "Sorry I'm late," Serah yawned, twelve years old. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Come this spring… I'm leaving for Midgar. To join SOLDIER."

"I didn't know there were girls in SOLDIER."

"There are—we just don't hear about them much. But you'll hear about me." Lightning clambered up to the very top of the water tower, admiring the silent moonlit town from her high perch. "I'll be the best there is—just like Sephiroth."

Everyone, even her sister, knew who Sephiroth was. The war hero, who had won fame in the recent war on Oerba. "Maybe we'll hear about you in the newspapers all the way out here in Nibelheim, huh?"

Claire laughed—something that her current twenty-one year old self found hard to do. "I'll try, Serah."

"Hey, Claire. Let's make a promise."

"A promise?"

"Well, it's nice if you become famous and all, but…" Serah paused dramatically—a natural actress. "If I'm ever in some kind of trouble I can't get out of… you'll save me, right?"

"That's silly—you've been reading those fairy tales too much, Serah. I'm your sister, I don't have to promise—"

Serah's face had taken on the likeness of a puppy dog: her eyes were large and pleading as she looked up at her sister. "Come on!" she begged. "Just promise me! Humor me, at least?"

Overhead, a falling star blazed a trail of bright blue in the night sky. "Fine. I promise, Serah—I'll protect you, always."

Serah was impatiently tapping a foot on the wooden floor. "Remember now, Light?"

It was so like Serah to hang onto such a naïve, childish promise. "Don't be such a child, Serah. That was seven years ago." Even so, her sister refused to budge. "The war ended before I joined SOLDIER. I never became famous, not even a hero. I can't keep that promise."

"But you made it in, didn't you? Not a lot of women even make it into SOLDIER, much less First Class!" Light looked away angrily—why couldn't Serah just understand? "Please—you have to fight with us! Everything that happened in Nibelheim five years ago… it was Shinra's fault, wasn't it? We can't just let them have their way all the time!"

Five years ago. A mere half of a decade… and yet it seemed a world away, in a separate universe. That doesn't matter to me anymore. All she could do was mutter, "Sorry," and turn to leave. Snow wasn't going to pay her—why wait for the impossible?

"Here, miss ex-SOLDIER!" Lightning turned just in time to snatch the bag of gil that sailed through the air towards her. It was pitifully small, but the weight felt about right: 1500 gil. "As promised."

Such a sad, pitiful life she led. She clutched the money angrily; part of her screamed at her to fling it to the ground and leave—but something stayed her hand. It's Serah, Lightning realized. No matter what her sister did, no matter what kind of stupid choices she made—Serah was her sister. They had lost both their parents in that incident five years ago, hadn't they? She's all I have. Snow was insidiously creeping into her life, in ways that Light disapproved of—after all, Serah was only eighteen—and yet, what kind of sister would abandon that sister?

"This is my pay? Don't make me laugh." For a second Serah's face was twisted by despair, Snow's by defeat… and that made the next words all the more satisfying: "I'll do the next job for double this."

"Three-thousand—" Snow almost choked on those words, and Light's spirit lifted almost sadistically. "But sis—"

Serah immediately took Snow's arm, and had to go up on the tips of her toes to whisper loudly in Snow's ear. "Come on, we're hurting for help, right?" Serah looked at her sister gratefully. "We had some money saved for Marlene to go to school, but…"

Light approached her sister, ruffled her pink hair—like she used to do. Her sister blinked from the unexpected show of affection. "I was joking. Two thousand, then." The ex-SOLDIER suppressed a laugh from the visible relief on Snow's face. She'd go along with AVALANCHE, Lightning decided. She'd stay close to Serah, and study this Snow Villiers, the man who saw himself worthy of Serah's hand. And if he didn't pass Lightning's test of approval… She frowned. At least she had her trusty gunblade. "And I'm not your sister."

The issue of Snow Villiers was for later, though. For now, all that mattered to Lightning was the sisterly love reflected in Serah's eyes. "Thank you."

A/N: Alright. I lied. There is no Aerith... but in her place is a certain blonde spikey-haired protagonist we all know and love (or love to hate, whichever be the case). Be warned, though—I lowered his age, and am using his personality as shown in Crisis Core (A game that I won't be borrowing much plot elements from, mainly because... I can't remember most of it). Can you just imagine said protagonist walking around selling flowers fer a gil each? Augh.

Anyways. I understand that the crossover 'genre' doesn't have much to offer, hence the teeny audience. And whatever is in the FFVII/FFXIII crossovers out there appears to be mainly gushy CloudxLight fics, which I don't approve of because it's FLight all the way—*shot* So I'll try my best to finish this for the sake of hobby writing, rather than reviews. :') Although they help mightily. Like, really.

Thanks for reading!