A/N: Okay, so this chapter is a bit shorter, but it's also more angsty - there's only so much dramatic content a reader can take in one sitting :P I had a really crappy week and would love a little review encouragement. Hope you guys enjoy this somewhat serious installment!

Also, side-note, beta-roomie returns next week! *leaps for joy*

Chapter 3: Straws

Lightning spent the next two weeks on high alert, waking each morning with a mission-worthy adrenaline rush. She didn't have the luxury of prowling around town to directly assess the situation with the so-called New Order of Salvation, but that didn't prevent her keeping an ear out for news and a watchful eye on Hope's behavior at home. Not a word from his mouth, a single nervous gesture, or his occasional lack of appetite escaped her scrutiny.

And while she mechanically went about her days with Claire, she wondered how long it would take for the other shoe to drop. She jogged home each afternoon anticipating an incident report from Hope or an empty house – some sign of backlash for what she had said and done in the market.

Still, the third week came to a close with no indicators of trouble from the cult. Other than Snow's recent report on the Order's new trend of black armbands bearing her Savior insignia, nothing striking had been passed down. She was gradually beginning to relax, but a nagging sense of danger remained. It lingered in the air of their home like the slightest of gas leaks.

Lightning was not quite ready to drop her guard.

As Hope headed for the door that Friday morning, she asked him again, "You've got my knife with you, right?"

"As always," Hope said, his dragging feet and the sinking tone to his voice catching her attention. "But I'm pretty sure stabbing someone wouldn't do any good for my reputation. I'll be lucky if it doesn't get confiscated."

She joined him at the coat rack, looping the scarf around his neck while reading his every move.

"Where are you going today?"

He shrugged, slipped his gloves on, and grabbed his knit cap from a hook. "Where I usually go when there's no council activity and nowhere else to go. Back to school."

Lightning latched onto his coat sleeve before he could escape, reiterating for what had to be the fiftieth time, "Nothing says you have to leave. You can always stay here or help me at Serah's."

"Light, you've got to let this go," Hope sighed, pulling the cap over his bed-head. He set his lips in a thin line and burned his eyes into hers. "I have to keep trying to find my place and do my part. I refuse to just give up and disappear. We both know that gets us nowhere."

His tone carried the weight of judgment. Jolting backward from him, she snapped, "Don't make it sound like I chose to give up on the border patrol. And if you're holding my decision to crystallize in Valhalla against me—"

"No!" he blurted, pressing his hands to his chest. "I'm holding this against myself! For my own weakness. Don't you think I understand what it means to be beaten into submission? To do everything possible, right up until that final straw breaks you?" He gripped her arms and tracked her evasive eyes.

"For you, it was Serah. I get it. I've been there," he murmured, finally glancing away. "But that existence is over, and we all need to move on."

"It's not that simple, though. Is it?" she said. They stood suspended in a tense moment of reflection, unsaid thoughts buzzing in the air like electricity before dying away.

Hope suddenly flashed a grin as he released her and opened the door. "I thought you liked a good challenge."

"Hey, don't get cocky!" Lightning gave him a light shove outside, smiling to herself at the restored spring in his step. He waved, and she returned the gesture, pushing back the fear for his safety that still lurked in the corners of her mind.

His words had conjured up a taunting new question, as well. Any of Hope's little revelations from the centuries she had missed were rare, and they always spiked her curiosity. He claimed to know how she felt – no, to have felt that same sense of defeat she'd experienced after Serah's death. And if that was the case, Lightning had to ask herself…

What exactly broke him?

The question refused to be ignored. Baby Claire's dirty diapers and fistfuls of food mush be damned. It spiraled Lightning's thoughts out of control.

All because she had no good answer. She understood what happened to Snow, Noel, and Sazh. She had experienced their pain and grief at the loss of their closest loved ones, and she'd fought through their bitterness to restore hope and a will to go on, even at the end of the world.

Hope was a different case. He'd been mysteriously overtaken long before she came on the scene. Targeted, trapped and remolded. And Lightning knew him too well to believe he'd gone down without a fight, even against a god. The mighty Bhunivelze had required a bargaining chip for her support as the Savior, after all. He clearly was not omnipotent enough to bend whomever he wanted to his will – least of all the Hope she had seen and heard about. The one Snow remembered.

The one she never got to know.

Maybe it was just too lonely at the top, Lightning wondered, aimlessly collecting toys from the floor. I can relate to that, I guess… She retrieved a ball from under the table and started backing out on her hands and knees.

But was he really alone? Lightning recalled a certain man from Luxerion who lost his entire family and somehow forgot them, along with his plot to avenge their deaths, in his ageless existence.

After all, three centuries is more than enough time to find someone and tragically lose her—

She stood too soon and banged her head.

"Damn it…" Lightning walked in a circle as she massaged the sore spot. When Claire toddled over, she hefted her into the air and asked, "What do you think? Would Hope keep a secret like that from me?"

The baby wriggled in her grasp, let out a shrill note of protest, and kicked her in the ribs.

"Ow! Okay, fine," Lightning grumbled. "I'll take that as a no." She planted Claire on the floor and continued straightening up the room.

Have I ever even asked him, though? He said a lot of his memories were fuzzy, but he's always having those nightmares. It has to be related.

Lightning mulled over that distracting line of thought for another hour, alternating her babysitting tasks with rounds of shoulder stretches, squats, and sit-ups, but by the time Serah finally came home, she had come full circle to the concerns of Hope's present.

It didn't help that her sister stepped in the door with a less-than-convincing smile.

"Hey, Sis," she greeted, plopping a bag of rations on the table and glancing around the room in search of her baby. She spotted her on a pallet in the floor, a trickle of drool trailing down as she slept. "Sorry I'm late. The distro center finally got a shipment in from one of the villages down south, so it was kind of a madhouse. How was Claire?"

"She tried to eat a pebble and a lint ball, but I took care of that. No other issues," Lightning summed up. As she gathered her things around the room, she asked, "Anything new at school?"

"Actually," Serah dragged out, twisting the end of her ponytail around her fingers, "I needed to talk to you, before I forget. About some strange things I've been hearing."

Lightning stopped in her tracks. This was going to merit her full attention. She took a seat at the table and waited for Serah to do the same.

"What kind of strange things?"

"Well, I don't know if he told you, but Hope's spent a lot of time at school the last couple of weeks," she started in, and at Lightning's nod, continued. "I've heard quite a few cult-related rumors circulating in the cafeteria, and even in my class around the same time – rumors about him. You know how kids are. They probably hear stuff at home and just repeat it at school. No filters…"

"Did Hope come to you about it?"

"No, he kind of avoids me over there," Serah admitted, a little pout forming. "I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Then what about these rumors?" Lightning asked again.

Serah shifted her eyes away. "It's pretty hard to take seriously. Maybe the kids are exaggerating things, but they're basically saying that Hope is evil. That his soul is tainted, that he's possessed, that he's some kind of demonic manifestation Bhunivelze created to trick you— I wish I was making this up! But I guess they really believe it, because they won't go near him in any common areas."

Lightning glared off at nothing in particular, holding her rising anger at bay to ask, "What about in his classes?"

"I wondered the same thing. So I talked to a couple of his teachers after school today," Serah pressed on, fidgeting with the buttons on her sweater. "It was pretty discouraging. I think they believe something's wrong with him, too. Mostly because he always aces their tests, no matter how much class he misses. One of them also said he's freakishly quiet."

"Sounds like everyone else does enough talking, anyway," Lightning ground out. She stood stiffly, whipped her scarf from the back of the chair and tied it on in a rush, heading for the door. "I knew something was wrong."

"Maybe it'll die down soon," Serah tried, but her hopeful expression faltered and she cast her eyes to her lap. "I mean, I don't even know where this New Order of Salvation is getting such crazy notions. It can't be long before everyone sees that Hope isn't a threat, right?"

"I wish I could believe that, Serah," Lightning sighed, stopping with her hand on the knob. "But right now, I intend to get to the bottom of this."

"Well, if you're going to confront Hope," Serah offered, "Try to take a more subtle approach. And it's a sensitive subject, so be gentle. He'll probably clam up or get defensive, otherwise."

Lightning frowned and rubbed at her left temple. "Subtle and gentle is not my forte, but I'll keep that in mind."

Jerking the door open, she growled at the blast of cold wind in her face and the entire situation at hand. Lightning marched away in the snow, muttering to herself, and stormed toward her home with a dozen points of interrogation forming in her head. She batted at them like pesky flies.

No, no, no! A barrage of questions isn't very subtle. But how else am I going to find out anything?

She finally stepped inside and shut the door behind her. The clicking sound of the latch rang in her ears before it was sucked into a void of silence. All her words jammed in her throat when she looked to the fireplace.

Hope was standing at the hearth, but he didn't spare a glance to acknowledge her arrival. He didn't even seem to hear the door close.

So Lightning watched him as he added split log pieces onto the fire. He alternately stoked the hot embers and blasted them with the bellows, pausing for the occasional cough.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was off about him. Not once looking away, she removed her boots, her coat, her scarf…

And it hit her. She strode over to where he stood and gripped the end of the dark green scarf that trailed down his back, beginning to unwind it.

Hope dropped the poker and arrested her hand in mid-air. "Don't."

"Why are you still wearing this?"

"Maybe I'm still cold." His voice was scratchy and weak. Lightning freed her hand and turned him by the shoulders. He wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Maybe you're lying."

Be gentle. Come on, let's not make this any worse.

She turned his face from side to side, zeroing in on the redness around his eyes, and asked instead, "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"This isn't your problem," he rasped.

"Your problem is my problem. You trust me, right?"

Hope nodded, but he still flinched when she started unwrapping the scarf again. As the last of the fabric slipped away, Lightning spied faint, pinkish marks on the sides of his pale throat. Her fingers hovered over them, trembling as a surge of anger coursed through her.

"Who did this?" Her words were slow and stilted. It was all she could do to keep her voice in check.

Hope coughed harshly, sinking down to the floor to hug his knees. "It doesn't matter. I'd guess they were in a grade above me, but I didn't recognize them."

"They?" Lightning hissed.

Goddess help me, I've never wanted to murder teenagers so badly.

She clenched her fists and made a swift round of the room before calming herself enough to join him on the floor. "So. It was more than one. Did you run or try to fight back?"

"It's easy enough to run from just one boy. Clearly, I didn't get far." Hope continued to stare at his hands, his broken voice coming and going when he added in a rush, "I tried to get the knife, I swear, but the biggest one knocked me onto my back. Pinned my hips with this-this crushing weight. I couldn't even use my legs. A-and the other two got my arms. The big one pulled my hair to make me look at him, when he called me an abomination." He coughed again and rubbed at his sleeves, over and over. "Then I couldn't breathe…"

Lightning stilled his hands and took them in hers, and he raised his face, blinking hard as he bit his lip. "Hope, listen. I hate to keep making you talk," she began, beating back the sting behind her own eyes. Her stomach had tied itself in a dozen knots. "But I need to know everything. This might call for a trip to the clinic."

Shaking his head, Hope pulled a hand free and traced over his neck. "Nothing else happened. Some people were coming down the hall, so they scattered. My throat's just sore. Maybe a little swollen."

Lightning dipped her head for a moment to blow out a breath of relief. "That can still be dangerous," she explained. "I should get your parents. They can take you to the clinic, just to be safe."

"No!" Hope croaked, reclaiming both of her hands. "Please, I don't want anyone else involved. This is embarrassing enough."

"Hope, I'd take you myself if I didn't think—"

"I don't need to go!"

"Then we're making a compromise," Lightning declared, abruptly standing to her feet and crossing the room. "I'm going to get Vanille. She's done enough charity work at the clinic by now to be useful. And you are not going back to that school."

Snatching her coat from the rack, she paused to give him a once-over. "Are you going to be okay for a few minutes?"

At his slight nod, Lightning was out the door.

"And you didn't, y'know, go under?" Vanille asked, to which Hope shook his head again.

"Well then, lucky for you." She probed lightly around his neck, feeling for spots of concern, but ultimately sat back with a sigh. She smiled, cocked her head to one side and extended her arms.

"Your sweater, please."

Hope stared back at her like she'd grown a second head. "Why? And no."

"Lightning said they pinned your arms. So let's just have a look."

Rolling his eyes, he slowly pulled his arms out of the sleeves. "I think you're just trying to steal my sweater again," he scoffed as he tugged it over his head.

From across the table, Lightning could see the bruises around his wrists and forearms. She truly hoped that his t-shirt wasn't hiding additional damage.

Vanille whistled in awe. "Must o' had them shaking in their boots if they pinned you that hard."

"They wanted to see how immortal I was," Hope rasped, slouching in his seat. He rubbed at his damaged wrists. "Probably expected some outburst of divine power."

"Aw, well that's too bad." Vanille patted his head. "Light would've shown the little devils some divine power," she added, winking over at Lightning. "Wouldn't ya? Teach them what's what."

Tch, I would've obliterated the bastards with the power I used to have.

"If only," Lightning muttered into the hand her chin rested upon. She directed her gaze at Vanille and asked pointedly, "Is he in the clear, then?"

"Oh yeah!" she replied, bouncing to her feet. "He'll be sore and hoarse for a few days, but I don't think there's any permanent damage."

Not on the outside, anyway, Lightning thought, observing the tremor in his fingers as he ghosted them over his neck again.

After Vanille departed, Lightning attempted to make hot tea, Hope donned his sweater and attempted to drink the tea, and they sat at the table for several minutes without a word.

"Do you think you can eat anything?" she asked.

Hope shook his head.

Lightning walked around the table and helped him to his feet.

"Let's sit by the fire, then."

They settled down on cushions, soaking up the warmth and silence like it was any other evening. When Lightning gathered Hope to her shoulder, though, the tears finally came. Sobs racked his frame as he choked on them, so she held him more tightly and tried to talk him through.

"I'm here," she murmured. "It's okay. You're safe with me."

Eventually, she felt his body relax and his breathing settle against her neck. Hope continued to cling loosely to her waist, but he pulled back after a minute or two and swiped his sweater sleeve over his cheeks. The serious set to his mouth caught Lightning off-guard.

"Light, do you feel safe with me?" he asked.

Floundering, she blinked rapidly and replied, "How— What do you mean by safe? I don't understand."

"Are you ever afraid of me?"

"Of course not," Lightning said, frowning at his reasoning. "Why would I be?"

Hope released a sharp breath through his nose. "People think Bhunivelze still has a hold on me. They believe it enough to hurt me. I can see real hate in their eyes. And sometimes I wonder, because of my dreams… It's like he is tormenting me."

"That sounds more like post-traumatic stress disorder," Lightning refuted. "We've been over this. I killed Bhunivelze, plain and simple."

"If it's just PTSD, why am I the only one suffering from it?" Hope countered hoarsely. "We all went through hell before the end, and you know it. You had a fake Serah dangled in your face, Sazh thought he was going to lose his son, and Snow turned Cie'th. But you're all perfectly fine. What's so wrong with me that I can't just be normal?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, we're not perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with you, either."

"Really? Then what is it about me that bothers you?" Hope pressed. He tilted his head, following her gaze when she dodged his. "And don't deny it. I've seen the look on your face plenty of times. Like something is off that you can't quite place."

Lightning huffed, her brow knit in frustration. "You don't bother me. I just can't figure you out sometimes." She smacked a fist on the cushion and added, "This is one of those times. If I was scared or bothered by being close to you, I wouldn't just let you live here and cry on my shoulder, now would I?"

"You might," he sighed, resting his chin on his knees. "You're stubborn and fearless. Maybe you just put up with me because you pity my sorry condition, or you think it's your duty to keep on saving me."

"I'm not fearless, Hope." Lightning reached out to ruffle his hair, and she offered a sad smile. "This isn't about pity, or any damned obligation. I'm afraid that people will keep hurting you – maybe even take you from me. And I'm afraid that I won't have the power to stop them. The best I can do is to keep you close."

Hope's eyes filled to the brim by the time she finished. He returned her smile, lowering his knees and moving in to wrap her in an embrace.

"I'll stay close, then."

Lightning's heart decided to wage war on her ribcage, but she lifted her arms anyway. He was warm, he was safe, and the sudden rush of gratitude tightened her hold.

It left her with the uncanny feeling of completeness.