A/N

Note that we're back to present tense by the end of this chapter, and Claire's new assignment with GIGN. I must apologize to Vendethiel and all of my French friends for butchering GIGN (and probably Europe in general) so badly. I envisioned Light and Snow's conversation to have occurred on a bridge not unlike karluv most in Prague, although Serah's university is ostensibly still somewhere in Southern France. I've tried to avoid super explicit references (I nearly had Light talk about the Kardashians) but for the most part you can assume that their new world is our world. Let me know what you think?

Also warning: completely tone deaf chapter ahead. At this point I've just accepted that tone deafness is, unfortunately, the price I have to pay to have anything done and out.


you seem like sunlight
so can i stay close?
even if it's dark underneath

- Unknown

I'd leave the memory of you at the station, if it didn't already know the way home.

- Iain Thomas


Serah's dorm room was cozy, if not large, with two simple twin beds on each side and a large window overlooking a tranquil side street. Night was falling, and the two women could hear some commotion outside their door, the sounds of parents and friends helping new students move into their rooms. Serah's side of the room had already mostly been decorated, with photos of her family and friends as well as paintings of her favorite locales all organized neatly on the walls above her bed and desk; an earthy-toned carpet had been rolled out, and small pots of succulents and flowers (sent to her by Vanille, Serah had said) had been placed on the window shelf, filling the room with a sweet, gentle aroma. As Claire leaned back against one of the wooden chairs, scrolling somewhat listlessly through train schedules, her sister patiently folded and hang up, one by one, dresses and shirts the younger girl had brought with her for the new school year. "Snow says he'll be back in five."

"I told him he could have just gotten it delivered."

"You know him. He's never been that kind of guy. The restaurant could be ten kilometers out and he'd still go pick it up on a motorcycle." Serah's eyes twinkled and Claire felt a strange feeling rise to her throat, something both familiar and unfamiliar, settled yet wanting. "Still thinking of leaving first thing tomorrow morning, sis?"

"Yeah. Don't you have class in the afternoon?"

"It's just one seminar. My roommate's not coming until next week, and she said you can borrow her bed for as long as you want."

"Mhm." Claire closed out the tab and placed the phone on the adjacent table, looking up to meet her sister's inquisitive eyes. "Shouldn't you spend some of these first days with Snow? He's also only around here every other week, as you told me."

"Sis…" There's just the slightest hint of a blush on her sister's cheeks. "You sure you'll be okay on your own? You know I don't doubt that you'll be safe, it's the –"

Claire reached out to give her sister's arm a light little squeeze, holding her own expression as evenly as she could. "Yeah. I'm just taking a short break – will be back in no time. Just call and text me, yeah?"

"Let me know how it goes, yeah? Tell everyone I'd have loved to come with you, but school term dates are not very flexible."

"You know they're not going to complain at all. You've spent the entire past few weeks filling up their inboxes with postcards and small handmade gifts."

"… Hey!" The blush was really coloring Serah's face now, but the younger girl's expression was playful as she brushed a lock of hair from Claire's shoulders. "I hope they liked them. Vanille, Hope and Noel told me that they liked theirs, at least."

"I've seen Vanille wearing that bracelet. Looks cute on her. I'm bringing that perfume with me, too."

"The one I recommended? You liked it?" Serah's face lit up like the way it used to back when she was twelve and Lightning had come home with new flavors of ice cream.

"Mhm. Might get a different one in the same series, but the series itself was nice." Claire had to remind herself to add the last line. Serah would appreciate it. "Thanks for the recommendation."

"Sis. You used to always scoff at those things. For as long as I could remember." Serah picked up a pale carnation-colored dress from the bottom of her open suitcase and held it up critically between the two women. "I was so glad when you enjoyed our shopping trip – how do you think this dress would look for a date?"

"With Snow? That guy doesn't care a single –"

"I want to look nice! Come on, just tell me if it's cute."

"I don't have the eye for these things –"

"Doesn't matter! I just want to wear something you think is cute. Come on. How's this one?"

Claire looked up semi-reluctantly and tried her best to appraise the item. "I like the color and the pattern near the waist. Not sure how it'd look on your figure, though. Maybe a lighter colored pair of leggings?"

"BURGERS AND FISH, COMING IN HOT!" A familiar voice thundered just outside the door, followed by a few surprised mutterings from families in the corridor.

Chagrined, Serah gingerly put the dress down on her bed, rising to let her boyfriend in. "Maybe later."


"Good night, sis."

"Good night, Serah."

Counting sheep had been a lot more fun when it was in Arya Village and sheep had the ability to lay eggs.

Claire stared at the ceiling moodily and continued to pretend to be asleep.

How long had it been? – half an hour, a whole hour? – They had eaten and played some awful board games together, then Serah had kissed Snow good night, then the sisters had checked her suitcase one last time, then they had hugged and turned off the lights. Serah had seemed to fall asleep easily enough – maybe her sister had gotten just as good at pretending to be asleep as her – yet Claire had continued to blink in the darkness as she breathed in and out, her body seemingly determined to feel every tiny movement of her limbs, any slight change in the effusive, warm late summer night air.

I didn't sleep much during the last thirteen days. I didn't sleep much at all in Valhalla. And working for GIGN…

Ah, screw it. I can probably sleep on the train if I have to.

She turned to her side again; tried to recall that strange power back into her arms, the tips of her fingers. It came, familiar-strange-unreal, a force that she knew had the power to save souls and shape the world. It had slumbered within her, only awakening when a fellow GIGN operator had pinned her to a wall in training. He had been unsettled – she had felt her heart sink into a pit in her being that she had not known to even exist – but after a coffee the well-mannered man had accepted her explanation that they had just both been exhausted and probably seeing things.

Am I… always going to be like this?

It would have felt strange, she supposed, if she had simply fallen back into the world as a regular human after all her years (decades? Centuries?) of divine service. She'd likely feel like a part of herself had been taken from her, a link to that past life she used to lead, a reassurance that if anything sinister was to arise, she could do something about it. Yet to still possess a savior's power after she had ostensibly sent the God of the previous universe into his death still felt wrong, not to say isolated her from everyone in this brand new and determinedly ordinary world.

Another good reason to take this trip. I don't trust myself to take on another GIGN mission right now.

She had wanted to take the trip to properly process her past and the idea of living with some distance from Serah, and her new discovery about herself had only strengthened her resolve.

I need to know what I can and cannot do. I need to learn how to control this power. I need to know if there's any obvious reason for the retention of my powers… and I need to figure out how to be me.

Lumina's laughter echoed all the way from the depths of the chaos to Serah's small dormitory room.

I haven't even told Serah yet. I don't want her to freak out. And I don't want it to potentially trigger any dormant seer powers within her, Etro forbid. This campus is so reminiscent of Eden University, and the look in her eyes when she saw Snow for the first time again…

Love can indeed be a wonderful thing…

The old sensation of feeling threatened by Snow (not to say deeming him unworthy) had mostly dissipated, leaving behind a newfound wistfulness and some kind of envy. Her sister had found happiness, a love backed up by the fact that a man had faithfully waited for her for more than five hundred years. There was still that bond of complete and unconditional trust between them, a devotion that puts all the other couples she had seen in this new world to shame. Serah was in good hands. But what about her?

Thoughts floated back into her mind, reminders of those last thirteen days:

Perhaps the greatest joy in life is to find a person who will share the journey, so you can walk through your lives side by side. Will I ever find that for myself?

Then love is mutual dependence - but where does that leave me? I've never been able to depend on others. Does that mean I cannot love?

The self-critical voice – that legacy of the childhood of Lumina – remained ever so sardonic.

How would I, with these freak savior powers, find someone to depend on anyway? It's not like anyone in this world would understand, with their fixation on social media it-girls and feisty female leads who would always care about their lovers before themselves.

Bhunivelze sure made this world…

The scene shifted, and she realized she had indeed, somehow, fallen asleep amid her wandering thoughts. A lucid dream – and no seer powers to know how to shape or interpret it, to know where it'd go.

I can handle whatever my mind wants to throw at me. I must.

Before her rises a graceful, tall cathedral, one not unlike the ones in Reims and Chartres she had seen in Serah's history books, or truly, unlike the ones she had seen for herself in this new world. As far as she had been able to tell, churches in this world did not quite preach like the Fal'Cie or the Order of Salvation; here people accepted the churches' teachings and their glorification of God without calling for a physical, tangible manifestation of Him, and did not, for the most part, go around telling people to actively prepare themselves for the end of the world. She had always been too wary to approach any church buildings or fervent believers, though, and –

And she found herself suddenly within the dwelling, surrounded by pillars of the saints on each side and the path to the chancel laid out right in front of her. Though she had been certain that the cathedral had been built with weathered, ancient marble, the interior was washed an ornate, regal gold; a gigantic, gorgeous pattern Serah had once described as a rose window shone a radiant, iridescent amaranth from above, its light even brighter than that of God's altar itself, and she felt herself drawn to it, wanting to see it more up close, to make sure –

Plaintive church bells, echoing between the walls like those tolling the end of a whole previous world. A cascade of pure white feathers suddenly drifting from the arches of the cathedral like snow. This was not God; this was her departed goddess, and –

"He had a dream of light…"

No, that's wrong, he had said eternity

She spun. Though the words, spoken more softly than the falling feathers, still reverberated in her being, neither Hope nor Bhunivelze was anywhere to be seen. The cathedral remained solid, with no signs of saints or slippage towards Cosmogenesis; this house of God was emptier than Etro's Temple, its figurehead gone, its sacred offerings left untouched, and its chairs for the faithful empty. When she turned, disturbed, towards the exit, with all her powers and anxiety crashing against the walls of her veins, the heavy wooden doors swung open for her.


The day was clear, if a little gloomy and cold, and Snow watched her as she picked up her suitcase, gently closed Serah's door behind her. The man didn't say anything as they traversed through the campus grounds and then the city, walked past streets full of cafes, murals and a few early-rising tourists; they walked at a fast pace, an unsaid sense of understanding lingering between the savior-turned-operator and Patron-turned-delivery man. It was only when they had passed the second tower of the historical bridge that he spoke up.

"Hey, sis…"

"Hm?" She stopped walking only when she realized he had. The waters under the bridge were dark, reminding her of the chaos by the shores of Luxerion and Yusnaan; a small congregation of white swans yet calmly dotted the murky canvas, however, giving her a sense of comfort. She had known Snow wanted to talk; about what, though, she wasn't quite certain.

"How much… did you tell Serah?"

An easy one. Snow's tone was hesitant, devoid of usual his bravado yet painstakingly sincere. She knew what he was referring to; it was his state in Yusnaan, how he had tried to sacrifice himself out of guilt and despair before she saved his life and sanity. "Nothing of the specifics."

She thought she heard Snow audibly exhale a breath he had been holding since they left the dorm. "Thanks, sis. Not that I don't plan to tell her, mind. I'm just trying to cheer her up for now; there'll be a better time –"

"I trust you. Think I'll leave Serah with you otherwise?"

A deep chuckle escaped from the blonde man. He sauntered closer and leaned against the side of the bridge, his arms crossed on top of the weathered stone and his face turned towards the river. He still wasn't looking at her. "Always a great compliment, coming from you."

"Don't push your luck."

"You doing alright, though, sis?"

She kept focusing on the swans, on their white feathers, the weird shapes of their bodies as they poked their long necks under water to look for sustenance. A small boat also passed by – some hydraulic worker rising early to go check the waterworks. "Yeah. GIGN operation break, you know how it goes."

"Too confidential for me." He wasn't wrong; despite being born into France like her and Serah, he – or nearly everybody else, for that matter – was not privy to the routine details of the nation's elite police tactical force. "Well, just know that Serah and Hope will always be there for you. I may not be much help, but those two have always been better at these things than me."

He had a dream of light. Snow had asked her about Hope after she had saved him in Yusnaan; she had guessed, then, they had been close. Perhaps they had gotten back into contact already. Snow had turned towards her at last, his face expectant. The words that finally came out of her were a little strained. "He's well?"

She thought Snow looked a little caught off guard. "Yeah. He's working in one of the universities in Switzerland."

So, they have indeed gotten back in touch. Being Swiss fits Hope, too – he's always been meticulous and reliable, and I can easily picture him working in Geneva, going between scientists and politicians and speaking more than four languages. The feelings nagging at the back of her mind stopped her, however, from conjuring a fonder picture, and she felt herself continue to tense. "That sounds nice."

A small stretch of silence followed her words. Snow regarded her with an enigmatic expression. She wondered if she should tell him about the retainment of her savior powers, ask him to keep watch on Serah's potentially latent ones. She knew she could trust him. But surely, he already knew of Serah's seeress past, and what could he offer her?

Not yet. Later. Soon.

Snow's voice, in the end, was surprisingly light and cheerful. It left her feeling heavy.

"Well, we should get going. Don't want you to miss your train. Keep in touch with Serah. You know she'll kill both of us if I didn't tell you this."


In an abandoned warehouse at night, she went about to practice swordplay.

Swords seemed to have long gone obsolete in this world; her GIGN training focused now on guns, close combat and cooperating with other sources of firepower and authority, yet she couldn't put away the thought that whatever had led to the retainment of her savior powers might one day call for her to again raise her sword. With her GIGN connections and Serah's connections with people in history and art history, she had been able to find one that suited her purposes; it had not been difficult to convince Serah that she needed it to alleviate her anxiety and to commemorate their past journey. She hadn't practiced in front of Serah – or much at all at home, really – yet she knew she'd slowly go mad if she couldn't be sure that she still had her skills up her sleeve.

She cut through metal and flesh easily. She knew she could slice through much of GIGN's on-field protection gear if she put her power into it. She could already take on her whole squad on her own, if they didn't have additional support from range or on air to disrupt her vision or movement. (How different are they from the original GC Corps or PSICOM, really? Admittedly, she's not been trained as a commander in this world, but she could always learn.) But what would possibly call on her to become like one of those superheroes in the cinema, though…

I have already destroyed God. What other conspiracy could be out there?

A part of her longed to ask Hope, to gain some perspective from his strength and knowledge; another part of her was afraid of meeting him again, unsure of what he might actually know, and uncertain about how to feel about him. It could just be because I really did destroy Bhunivelze. I had hijacked this world from him and never surrendered my powers. Or; there are still things in this world that may threaten its order and my powers are needed to protect the things I love. She had already heard of a journalist who went around interviewing people about their memories; soon, perhaps, the truth would come to light and a conspiracy might form. She could well have dismissed all potential meanings for the retainment of her powers and just carried on living her life; but she had so nearly failed to save those she loved – the last thing she wanted at this point was to have another close call.

Hope…

She had been a little callous with him, been forced to watch him disappear and nearly lost him to God. But what had he really wanted from her, if she was to take his words – not to say Bhunivelze's words – at face value?

Well, don't you trust me?

Obediently submit your body to me.

She clenched her teeth as she cut through another pile of metal rubble, gasping just under her breath. She must had been at this for hours. She still had such a long way to go to build up her stamina. All around her lay signs of destruction, broken machines all reassuring her that she still had her talent for breaking things into fragments. But to really enjoy the world she had helped to create? To be able to make those she loved happy, and to achieve happiness for herself?

We'll be together as partners again, won't we?


Three days from the end of her mini "vacation," she finally caved and called Snow.

"There you are, sis," Snow said, sounding relieved, and she wondered if he had been waiting for this call. Surely Serah has been keeping him more than updated on my whereabouts. "Oh, you want Hope's number?"

"Figured I should drop by and visit him before I go back to work." Her voice sounded even stiffer than she had imagined. Bad sign. Hope would be certain to either take it badly or tease her about it. "Switzerland is right there. Unless he's busy or out on a trip."

"Oh, I'm sure he can make time." Snow waved away her concern nonchalantly. "He's usually free in the early afternoon, since he works in his lab in the morning and has to –"

"You two sure are close."

Snow sounded a little abashed. "It's just that he's living alone. Figured he'd enjoy still being a part of the gang."

She hadn't quite thought about that. He's right. Vanille and Fang, Noel and Yeul, Sazh and Dajh, Serah, Snow and I… Serah's going to be living at her dorm, but she's still close, just an hour's drive away, but Hope's truly living alone in his own country. "What about his parents?"

"Hm?"

"Bartholomew and Nora." Surely they had been reborn into the new world, as well? She had tried to make sure of that.

"Oh, probably," Snow answered vaguely, his voice a little distant. "You know I'm not… the best person for him to talk to about his parents."

Oh, right. "… Sorry."

"No, no. Anyway, just give him a call so you two can set something up." She could hear some background noise – it sounded like Snow and Serah were out at some restaurant in the country. She was certain she could confirm her theory later by checking Serah's Instagram. Or just Serah's texts. "Or text him. He's pretty responsive to everything."

At least Snow doesn't seem to think anything is amiss. "Thanks. Tell Serah I'll call her later tonight? Won't get to the hotel until pretty late."

"Serah says take care, sis."


She ended up dialing his number late at night, just before going to sleep.

"Hello?" His voice came through her speakers and she leaned back violently against the frame of her bed, wincing as she heard the wood creak. "Light," he added, quieter, waiting. She thought she could hear reverence in the word, the gravitas not unlike the feeling attached to the dream of light in her cathedral. The speaker in the cathedral had been a child; this Hope was an adult.

"Hope," she responded, careful to enunciate his name and trying her hardest to keep her voice even. He had spoken perfect French. "Call me Claire?"

"You still sound the same, Claire," he laughed, and she felt her hands tremble because he didn't; he sounded older, more tired, and for a moment she wondered if this call would have been even harder if he had not returned to his adult body, had been forced to continue in the body of a child. Claire on his tongue sounded pleasant yet alien; Claire felt like a person Hope Estheim didn't know. She decided to force herself to get used to it. "Sorry if I sound different."

"No, no. You sound nice." And she was at a loss for words. This was not how she had wanted it to go, even though she had known that she wasn't going to be good at talking. I should have tried to write out my lines. Figured out exactly what I wanted and needed to say here, at the very least. "Pleasant, and… mature."

"I am older now. Twenty-seven and working with a few NGOs. A good amount of talking there, as well as research." He paused, as if to let the fact sink in or to collect his thoughts, and she imagined him giving presentations in front of large crowds, serving as panelist on talks about global poverty and hunger. "I heard from Serah and Snow that you're working for GIGN, now."

"I was reborn into the role. I suppose it was the old Guardian Corps soldier in me. I'm surprised, really, that you don't have a bigger role – would have thought you'd be Secretary-General or something."

"You flatter me, Claire. It was a privilege for me to even meet the man. He's a good person." His tone was cheerful, serious. She had hoped that the joke would enliven the atmosphere. Well. Maybe she should just get to the point.

"Hope?"

"Yes?"

"… My train's heading towards Switzerland tomorrow. It's not going to stop in Geneva, but it'll be close, so I figured –"

She stuttered over the word. He waited patiently. This was on track to become the most awkward conversation she'd ever held with anyone.

"- We could get lunch together somewhere. I don't really mind what kind of food we get. It'd just be nice to meet again. I know it's really short notice, but would you be able to come?"

"Of course. Just give me a time, and I'll look up some nice restaurants in the area."

That reminded her of the Hope in the Ark. I suppose he just will always be able to look up everything. "Snow mentioned a lab. You don't need to work?"

"Oh, the benefits here are quite nice. I have accumulated many vacation days. Let me know your station and how long you can stay – I'll be driving over, so we should have some time."


She met the journalist on the way to see Hope and thought it was probably some kind of sign.

Her disastrous calling skills aside, she had felt relieved after the call; Hope had sounded stable and friendly, and he had offered to drive them to a quaint little restaurant in the country where they could talk and share some wines. I know it's disingenuous, to share wines with the French, he had conceded, and she had thought she could hear the smile in his voice. But we had a project at Rheingau not too long ago and their Rieslings were wonderful. Even if you end up not liking it, why don't you try it to see if you think Serah or Snow might like it?

"I... No, all of us, mankind, humanity, we're alright. We're definitely going to be alright. There are times when we make one mistake after another, when we hurt each other. But even so, this world - "this world" that you and your friends won in your victory over God... this world is built on 'us," we're the ones supporting this world, we're the scaffolding. So, we'll try to sort this world out, with what little strength we have, by ourselves. We may be small and insignificant on our own, but together we'll make the world a better place."

She certainly knows how to talk, Claire thought, a shade touched despite herself, even as she knew she was not going to have the time for a proper reply. The train was already a few minutes late; she didn't want to keep Hope waiting at the station. I suppose if humanity will truly fight for the world in this way… I needn't worry so much about my savior powers.

"... I understand. I leave it to you."

There was a smile on her face as Claire stepped off the train, as she walked forward into the brilliant late morning, her hair glowing as it was carried by the soft breeze. She scanned the station for a flash of silver hair, for a tall, lithe figure resting against a wall or car.

It didn't take her long.

"… Claire," she heard his voice, relieved and somehow impossibly sweet, and before she could find out where he was, he was right next to her, stopping just a few inches from where she stood. His hair shone like the reflection of moonlight on water; just above the slightest hint of perspiration on his nose, his green eyes filled with liquid emotion, and she thought he must had been waiting for this day ever since they had arrived in this new world. "It's so nice to see you."

She reached out to hug him. He hugged her back fiercely, an overwhelming happiness mixed with something she could not identify, and almost reluctantly withdrew from her seconds later, his lips quivering as she tilted her head to really, really look at him. "Good to see you too, Hope."

He closed his eyes and smiled, an innocent, contented look that she wished could stay with him forever. "I've never been taller than you. This will take some getting used to."

"Hey, don't gloat," she warned, gently flicking his forehead and marveling a bit at how easily they seemed to have fallen back into partnership orbit. Even his light grimace seemed to have the essence of joy in it. "Height means nothing if you can't fight me."

He chuckled, somber, his voice just a touch raspy. "That is true. I'd go down so fast. Not that I'd ever want to fight you, though."

"I'm sure Snow is more than happy to set up some arm wrestling matches at parties."

"Only because he thinks he'll always win." A slight mischievous edge entered Hope's voice as he examined her in turn. "I'm sure you can take him down a notch."

The seemingly close friendship between Hope and Snow comforted her; it meant Hope would not have been lonely, and if Hope would ever get into trouble – as that overly paranoid part of her head continued to suspect and worry – again with Bhunivelze, she could count on Snow's support. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Had to wake up early this morning to drive over, but I like my playlist, so it was fun."

"Playlist?" He had avoided the question – they both had known that she meant something more – yet she wasn't going to pursue the topic if he wasn't being forthcoming. The mention of a playlist made her curious, though; he must had meant his car. Back during their first days, no one had had the leisure time (or the tools) to listen to music. She wondered if their tastes were remotely similar. "What do you like?"

"A bit of everything, really. Anything that speaks to me. You're welcome to plug your phone in, if you have anything on there. It's a short trip, though. We could just listen to the radio…" He trailed off and blushed slightly as he realized she was looking at him intently and had held out a hand. "Uh, Claire?"

"Take me to your car, then. I want to hear everything."

His hand in hers was gentle and warm. He had been nothing if not gentle and warm. She had felt the steady beats of his heart against her own as they embraced, and it had felt right, that conviction and love so close to her yet again. It really was just that paranoia within her speaking, that furtive voice that wanted to make up for that one wretched moment at the end of the thirteen days when she had tried to reach for his hand and had had to watch her own hand slip through and fail to touch. As he let go to get into the driver's seat, she gave his hand a little squeeze. She wouldn't lose him. Not again.

And if the way his fingers had wrapped around hers so lovingly was any indication, he didn't want to lose her again, either.


"Farron," her commander looks up from the table, lips pursed. "Welcome back. I have new assignments for you."

"Yes, Sir."

"You can find the detailed information in your folder." The commander tilts his head, as if to size her up. "You'll be moving to hostage rescue and protection of government officials – for the latter, there may be work soon in Geneva. There are some major UN congregations coming up."

If the commander saw her blink rapidly twice in succession, he has chosen to not mention it. "Yes, Sir."

"You'll be training under Moreau for the next few weeks. Report to him starting next Monday. You're dismissed."


(This was extremely difficult for me to write for a whole lot of reasons (GAH) but I hope we're at least moving the story along. Those last few Hoperai scenes, though. I'm just going to say I had to shut down a number of my senses and sensibilities to write it and it positively hurt to have to write it this way compared to how I wrote it in something like Faith. Take that how you will.)