Days 19-21

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"There is one more element missing before you can start, and it is up to you to decide what that is."

Hope turned the crystal over and over within his fingers, the small glowing stone a near perfect sphere gathering the light that shone through it. He aligned it up to the light of his room from where he was lying on his bed, trying to make out the different colors that prismed through.

He knew what Lightning would say. He knew what Serah would say, what Snow would say.

Caius had looked murderous when Yeul gave him the crystal, although Hope didn't understand why. Or maybe he did. The power it represented was not one to be taken lightly. Even now he didn't want the responsibility of having to chose.

"All the other players are in place." She told him. "You must choose the last."

Alyssa Zaidelle had no family. Everyone who could care for her had died in the fall of Cocoon. Because of this, she pushed herself with a drive unmatched by anyone else, seeking to distract her talented mind by creating solutions no one had thought of, by solving problems no one could comprehend. She spent years under the care of the government, and then caught the attention of the Academy.

She was a brilliant person, filled with life and purpose. Despite her origins, despite what happened to her, all Alyssa wanted to was live. She wanted that so much Hope couldn't understand it.

Noel Kreiss came from a desolate future. Hope didn't know much about the man, not like he had known Alyssa, but he understood loneliness when he saw it. He recognized the relentless determination, because anything was better than the alternative. The young man was cheerful and optimistic, willing to go through near impossible lengths in order to create a better future for mankind. He had been one chosen by Etro, chosen by Lightning, to undertake a task so important that Hope had never heard more than a few words from anyone about it.

He knew who the others would choose. Snow had been the one who came with Alyssa's arrest, after all, and Lightning's tone when he brought up her name said it all. Serah still missed Noel even now.

"There is one more wish left unfulfilled." Yuel told him before. "The others wished to save you. But your wish was never considered."

He could save one person, and only one.

He knew what the others would say. Knew what the obvious choice was. But even knowing, he didn't want to be the one who made the decision. He didn't want to bear that burden of knowing I chose to let you die. He understood the obvious choice, but no one else knew Alyssa like he did. She was brilliant. She was driven. She stayed with him for years when no one else was there. She was obsessive, and tended to be a perfectionist and would double, triple, check both his results and her own.

Alyssa laughed harder than anyone else, worked harder than anyone else, lived more than anyone else. She smiled and she lied and she helped him and deceived him, and Hope had never been able to understand her, but he also could never blame her for turning on him. He had known from the very beginning that she preferred her lies, and that she valued her own life above all. He accepted that, just as she accepted his tendency to stay silent on his past and his obsessive focus on saving his friends.

They had been an odd pair, true, but they got things done together. Hope would never have made it to 400AF without Alyssa Zaidelle. He wouldn't have accomplished half of what he did without her. She was important to him.

On the other hand, Noel was also an important person to him. He was so important to Serah, and was one of the few people Hope could consider a friend despite their brief encounters. He deserved to live, must want to live, just as much as Alyssa.

Hope closed his eyes, letting his arm fall back down so that the crystal rested lightly against his chest. It should have been his decision alone. No one should have the power to decide between human lives, no matter how they were supposed to save the future. It shouldn't be his decision. Rather, he was willing to argue for both sides, or perhaps play Devil's advocate for Alyssa.

He breathed out in a huff, lips twisting into a sardonic smile.

Devil's advocate, huh…? The phrase seemed so final to the decision. Was even he biased against her now?

"It's up to you." Lightning told as they left Bresha, still tense despite having left Caius and Yeul behind them. This time, Yeul had given him a number and pulled out her phone, explaining that in this lifetime she was born on Cocoon and wanted to stay there for a change. Hope had glanced over for Lightning's opinions on that, but her lips were tight at the exchange.

"It shouldn't be up to me." Hope had argued, shifting in his seat on the airship and trying to display his unease. "I'm not the only one this affects. Aren't we all in this together? I mean, we need to work together this time if we're going to succeed. Isn't that the reason why we're all together again?"

In the end, the choice had been left to him.

My wish, huh? He opened his eyes slowly, gazing at the empty ceiling. He had so many of them, and yet none at the same time. He wanted to save the world, but that could be accomplished through time and hard work. If nothing else, Hope had just about everything he could have wished for. His friends were back, safe and sound. And it had taken so many wishes, so many different people, and so much sacrifice, just to get to this point.

"This is a bargain. An exchange." Yeul told him carefully. "I am not entirely selfless. In return, you will have to do the impossible once more. This time, you will have to save me."

She wasn't looking at him when she said that, but at Caius, who gazed back at her steadily.

The Seeress lives short lives, dies, and is reborn. The cycle continues endlessly, and Caius is immortal. How many times has he had to watch her die? How long did she have yet to live?

Hope didn't know where to start. But then again, apparently he was still missing an element.

Given the choice… his grip on the crystal tightened. If given the choice, Hope would be selfish. Rather than Alyssa or Noel, he would have chosen his mother. To see her again. While in this timeline her passing was still recent, still painful, add all the years he had experienced altogether and it was sad to know that her loss stayed just as raw and painful.

But she wasn't from the future. Rather, she was already dead.

"You will find someone to help you from your future. Yours, and no others."

From his future. The future with a world being built up in the sky to replace Cocoon, with a bustling city of happy people, with children laughing in the streets and playing carelessly because they don't need to worry about the future anymore. Hope wanted to think it was a good future regardless of his own fate.

It was the very same future he came from where Alyssa's eyes darkened with hate and she struggled against her captors when Snow accused her of planning murder. But then, he didn't know if she existed in other futures. The very same future where Noel had been dropped off to stay with him during a very tense time.

Hope frowned up at the ceiling. Snow's prophetic words turned out to be true, after all.

There was a sudden knock on his door.

"Hope?" His father called out from the other side. There was a strange intonation in his voice. "Your test results came in."

Hope shoved the crystal under his pillow, and pushed himself up from bed. "Okay. I'll be right out."

He pulled on another sweater along the way, large and baggy to give him room to grow into, the yarn soft and the collar excessively high into a folded down turtleneck. It was getting colder still in the settlement, although there was no sign of snow anywhere. It was a different region, he knew, but it still seemed strange to have the weather so drastically different when other areas were only a few hours away. At least, it was strange to the child him, the one who had never experienced a winter off the Cocoon that had been completely temperature controlled. Sometimes he lost himself between the memories of the future and the wonder of the present.

He wondered if his test results would be good enough to slot him into a spot with a research team. Probably not, especially with his lack of experience (not entirely true, but how could he prove otherwise?), but it might get a foot in the door at the very least.

He wondered what kind of research teams Eden still employed. Hope had never really been noticed, had rather been deliberately ignored, by academics before the Academy sprouted up. It had been both frustrating and extremely productive in the prior timeline, as it just made him throw himself harder into his studies. This time he would try harder, push harder, in order to create changes earlier and make things better. This time he wanted to wipe out the need to travel four hundred years into the future to ensure everything was on track.

"What does it say?" Hope asked as he stepped into the living area, rubbing his arms in attempt to warm them. The apartments had been turning up the heat to compensate for the colder weather, but it didn't help all too much when the building was made for temporary residence. The walls just weren't thick enough to hold in all the heat. It was still far warmer than outside, but colder than the residents were used to.

"I've saved it for you to open." Bartholomew told him from where he sat on the couch with his tablet, handing a stark white envelope over to him. He had a strange look about his face, though, and Hope took the envelope wondering just what had his father in a loop. If his test results hadn't even been opened yet…

He pushed a finger under the cavity of the flap and pulled it open, pulling out a thin sheet of transparent imprint paper. Fancy. the datachips embedded were nearly entirely transparent and so thin it could barely be told from a thicker and more formal sheet of paper. It was flexible as well, although the fold smoothed itself out when Hope pulled the sheet taut, and a question at the top of the page flashed for identification.

"It's not the only letter that came in today." Bartholomew spoke up unexpectedly, prompting Hope to look up from the sheet. The older man was seated comfortably on the couch, although there was an unreadable expression on his face. "As the scores go on public record, Eden University's scientific departments have sent along several letters as well."

Hope didn't see any other letters. He startled, breathing in sharply at the thought. Maybe he'd actually be able to continue his work sooner than he thought?

"Hope…" His father hesitated, brows furrowed in thought. "They have questions. And to be honest, so do I. I'd like to think that I give you enough space, and I know you're smarter than anyone realizes, but those… those are some very high profile names requesting to speak with you."

The lights on the sheet continued flashing, continued to request identification. Hope found himself tongue-tied.

"Each assessment test, I've recently been told," Bartholomew said slowly, "contains several questions meant to be unsolvable. It's not to be counted against the tester who gets it wrong. I was told today that there are currently fifteen such questions in the most recent rendition, none of which would be included in the actual test results."

That was something Hope was vaguely familiar with. Those who took assessment exams were usually ahead of their peers, and thus the Academy had a tendency of sneaking in harder questions sometimes based on current research to get some topographical data and an outside perspective on how to tackle problems. Those who came close to solving the equations would be monitored and then invited to the team of scientists working directly with that area. It helped with early recruitment to put brilliant minds at work without making them jump through more hoops than necessary.

Suddenly, Hope wondered if he shouldn't have worked quite that hard on the exam, after all.

"According to quite a number of scientists who have called me today, you managed to solve three out of the eleven you encountered on the exam. The reason the scores came back so late is because they decided to double, and then triple, check everything."

Solve. Oops.

Hope winced. He had been fairly sure that he avoided all those questions. Had been quite proud of himself for having seen quite a few of them, too.

"Hope… you…" His father breathed out a quiet sigh, bringing up a hand to adjust his glasses. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I know." Hope interjected quickly, hands tightening around the envelope and sheet. "I know that."

Bartholomew watched him carefully for a long moment, and then nodded. "...Alright. I know that I'm not always there, and I'm not always — your mother always knew what to say in this situation."

There was a tightness in his chest just at the mention of his mother, and Hope swallowed hard. With this kind of conversation, he didn't really have to see his results to know that he had perhaps focused so hard at advancing his work by bypassing his studies that he hadn't thought enough about the repercussions.

"I know." Hope repeated, hands tightening once more on the sheet. It was obvious that his father knew something was going on, and that Hope was keeping something from him. But at the same time, Hope couldn't figure out a way to reveal anything without sounding absolutely crazy. Crazier than normal, anyway, having come home that day to reveal himself as a Pulse l'Cie. His father had believed in him then, but right now… right now Hope didn't think it was best for his father to know about the alternate futures. To know that the world would end, and that there was a girl out there who could see the futures.

To know that Hope had come from a future where he died, and that the others also all came from futures that had his death.

"I know things are…" he struggled for a word, feeling his father's stern gaze on him. "Really weird right now. I can't really explain things yet. But I will." Eventually. When things made more sense. At the moment, Hope was still trying to piece things together himself. It had taken him far too long to even put his memories together, and he just needed more time with everything before he could string up the words to tell his dad what was going on. How could he possibly convey that? "...I promise."

The words, perhaps his tone, seemed to appease Bartholomew.

"Alright." His father agreed reluctantly. "I'll forward you the messages I've received. Then you can decided what to do with them. If you don't want anything to do with it, that's alright. If you want to meet with the professors… that's fine as well. Just give me some warning."

"I will." Hope promised, this one easier.

That signalled the end of that conversation, and Hope settled in to sit down next to his father as he pressed a finger against the sheet to identify himself, and they shared the results of the examination.

Strangely enough, the high scores didn't seem to please Hope as much as he thought it would.

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The next few days were a blur and busier than Hope would have preferred.

Multiple messages between multiple scientists had revealed attitudes both excited to see what he could contribute and far too scared of l'Cie to actually meet him in person. There was only one, an older lady with a shocking head of white hair who almost looked like she electrocuted herself with the way the strands would stand up every which direction, who insisted that she come meet him face to face in order to discus modern theories on mechanical engineering.

"Pish-posh." She dismissed his hesitant remarks about her decision to meet a former l'Cie easier with a wave of her hand, the edges of her eyes crinkling up in amusement. "I'm an old lady, what need have I of reputations? If I haven't gotten enough respect from my colleagues by now, I might as well retire. Bah. Those fools don't know what they're missing out on, but I'm not going to be like those narrow minded cockholds."

Sadly, she was barely able to stay for a few hours as he introduced her to the makeshift labs he set up in the Guardian Corps ex-hangars, having to return home soon enough both due to her work and because her doctors wanted to keep a close eye on her in her age and especially after the Fall.

The scientist, Dr. Kathryn Sanighte, roared with laughter whenever Hope suggested that perhaps she should take it easy, clapping him hard enough on the back that he would have been knocked over if he hadn't braced for it. For a small tottering old lady, she sure had some strength to her.

"Boy," she told him, voice wizened and fond, "You learn not to let things like age and the opinions of other people stop you from doing what you want to when you get older. The young are supposed to listen to the old, after all, not the other way around!"

Her dark eyes had been sharp when taking in his projects, clear and intelligent as he described all he was trying to do and his limitations.

"It sounds to me like what you're missing is the funding." She told him bluntly when he was done talking.

Hope rubbed at the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm not sure it's that. I just…" he struggled for a moment to properly summarize what it was that was limiting him. The current level of technology, perhaps. Time, or cooperation. "...Okay, maybe a little. It's just hard to do this when I have to make the equipment, too."

She laughed loudly at the observation. "Blunt! But far too humble. Funding is always an issue, no matter what department we come from and just how many breakthroughs we provide for the government. It's a shame, really. Maybe if more people appreciated just what we do in order to provide people with their current comforts, we might stop worrying about funding." She stopped, and then laughed again. "But then again, that's not likely."

Hope thought to the Academy, and the ease he was used to when requesting the appropriate funding for different projects. He tried not to imagine that his influence might have come from his father's role in the creation of the Academy, but more because of how the Academy later on took over the role of the government. With the scientists deciding to intervene in delicate situations, it meant that funding was never an issue. Perhaps that was why humanity advanced so quickly over the years after that.

"You must not be afraid of causing waves." She told him in the hangar. "Don't settle for ripples. Someone like you is bound to be noticed whether you plan on it or not. Since you'll make a splash anyway, might as well make it one no one will ever forget."

He smiled for her then, drawing strength from her can-do attitude. It wasn't often he met anyone so confident and bold, and he wondered if he might have been able to find comfort in her words the first timeline had he met her.

After she left that day, with promises to return and discuss her research with him on a later date as well as introduce him to the team who was working on the current scenarios now that she was to step back and merely keep watch on the newer generation, Hope called Vanille up to tell her about the latest developments.

"It's good news, right?" She asked him cheerfully.

"It is," he agreed. "But how come I've never heard of her before? I mean, it really sounded like she knew just about everyone who's important."

"Maybe you shouldn't dwell on that," she told him quickly. "Things are different this time around, remember? Maybe we've already caused a bunch of changes."

"I suppose." He responded reluctantly. The more he tried to think about it (and he tried not to), the more ominous of a feeling he got. There were other things he wanted to solve more, anyway. Other ideas and other options. Especially with the latest news… "Did you hear about those kids that set a hospital tent on fire?"

"I did!" Vanille enthused, sounding much more cheerful. "Isn't it amazing? I've heard Serah talking about magic coming back to people before, but what if it didn't happen here? I didn't want to get my hopes up, but this is amazing!"

Hope hummed his agreement. It had been exciting the first time around, and just as perplexing this time. The random development of magic within children who have settled in Gran Pulse was such a baffling event that even the Academy four hundred years in the future couldn't pinpoint who would receive magic and why. It had been agonizing the first time around, to see others granted magic around him and not being able to access it himself, especially since he remembered the feeling of fire between his fingers and ice upon his skin.

Even now, he missed being able to heal the injured, to knit bone and sinew together effortlessly. He missed the magic to protect and to strength, to heal and to defend himself. But the ache was far away, just distant enough that his voice didn't hitch when speaking of the 'new' phenomenon giving birth to magic within the human race again.

"Maybe we'll all get our magic back." Vanille suggested. "Not that I'm not grateful about being able to live, but it would be nice, wouldn't it?"

Hope wouldn't know. From what he remembered, only Serah manifested magic after the Fall, seeing as he couldn't exactly tell what had happened to Lightning, and Fang and Vanille had been crystallized. He had lost the ability entirely.

"Maybe we'll be able to learn what causes it," he enthused instead. "Whether the condition is environmental or maybe genetic, or whether it's a threshold scenario where certain conditions must be met before anything happens."

Vanille giggled at him. "Good old Hope. If you're not careful, you'll turn it all into science one day. And then where would the magic be?"

"Readily available to the populace." He responded without missing a beat. "So that everyone can defend and heal themselves."

"It might make the world more dangerous, though," she warned him. "If everyone can throw fire around like those kids, there'd be a lot more injuries than there would be people who could heal them. It's not always the easiest to find a healer around, even if you learn how to do magic. Remember how hard it was for Snow to try and learn healing magic?"

He did. Vanille explained to him during their journey that it was rarer for people to exhibit healing magic than otherwise, and that while it could be learned by those who were determined enough, if the magic user was not predisposed toward healing, then they only never be able to reach the mastery that a natural healer obtained effortlessly.

"But maybe we could practice." Vanille suggested. "We've got far more experience than those kids, so we could teach them what to do."

"I doubt they'd want to hear about it from us." Hope shook his head. Likely those kids had lost a family member or friend to the Fall, or even to the pursuit of l'Cie before that. He doubted their help would be welcome.

"Well," she made a humming noise in thought. "I guess if they really wanted help, it wouldn't be too hard to find us. Or at least just tell someone that they wanted to find us."

Hope doubted that would work, either. Even if those kids did want help, which was slim in the first place, adults near them would never allow their children to go near a former l'Cie if they had anything to do with it. He just made an indeterminate noise that he hoped Vanille would take as affirmation or agreement to her statement, and let her continue talking.

"Serah and Snow are back," she informed him. "You might be hearing from them later. They haven't told anyone where they really went — apparently it's 'their little secret' or something. And," and here she sounded huffy, making Hope draw back from the phone despite knowing that she wouldn't be able to actually reach through it and shake him. "We all saw your scores, which are great, but you completely forgot to tell us something important!"

"Uh." Hope's mind ran over everything that happened recently. Had Lightning told them about the crystal already? He didn't think she would, not when she was the one who expressly told him to take the time and think it over because it was his decision, and somehow his alone. "I… I don't think I did."

"Your birthday." Vanille lamented, sounding genuinely upset. "Your birthday last week. It was printed on your exam, too!"

Hope paused. Was it really that time of year already? He had been so engrossed in everything that had been happening recently, so busy with wishes and timelines and studying and tests that he had overlooked it entirely, measuring his life in days and weeks and projects. That happened frequently during his time in the Academy, but before then..

Before then, it had been his mother who enthused for weeks beforehand about his birthday, badgering him constantly with what he might want as a 'surprise'. His father was less obvious, usually needing some reminding before adding extra money to Hope's credit for him to get whatever he might want himself. His birthdays after the Fall were usually quiet affairs.

This time, it had been forgotten entirely, and it wasn't his father's fault so much as it was his own.

"I, uh," he stammered out, flushing. Of all the things to forget, he had forgotten that Vanille might get upset about that. "...I forgot about it."

"Your fifteenth birthday is important!"

"Well, I'm not technically fifteen." Hope protested weakly. "I mean, I've been fifteen before already. This would be the second time." And his fifteenth year hadn't been all that memorable, anyway. He had forgotten to think about ages, except for the fact that he was once again younger than the others where once he lamented upon growing older and older and eventually dying before he would ever see them again.

"Yes, but I couldn't celebrate it the first time." Vanille protested, and then gave an exaggerated sigh. "And I can't celebrate it this time either because you forgot to tell us!"

"How about we celebrate your twentieth twice as hard?" Hope suggested. "I mean… that one's been a long time coming, right? My birthday would have been the second time I went through it, but you must have been waiting for your birthday for a really long time now."

"Ahh…" Vanille sounded hesitant now. "Your calendars are really different from the ones from home, actually. We don't usually have… exact dates. Just moons, and those born under the same moon. I don't think you'd want a month long celebration."

"No, no, that sounds perfect." Hope insisted. In all his studies of old Pulsian culture, he had barely only begun to scratch the surface. The archaeological digs had been abandoned too soon for lofty future goals, and it would have been nice to go back to them. He wanted to learn more about how Fang and Vanille lived their lives; their traditions and history and stories. "We should do it. Set aside a whole month for your birthday. You deserve it."

There was an embarrassed pause from the other end of the phone until Vanille piped up, "Well! I should really get down everyone's birthdays, right? Then we can celebrate for all of us! I think Dajh and Sazh are next, actually. Their birthdays are only a week apart, did you know? Then Serah, and Gadot and Lebreau… wow. Team NORA's all born in the same month. Except Snow. He hasn't told me his birthday yet. And we've got almost half a year to go before Lightning's birthday comes around again."

"Don't forget Fang's and your own." Hope reminded her, glad that she wasn't making a big deal out of his own forgotten birthday anymore.

"I'm not." Vanille told him. "But we're going to get a whole month, remember?"

Hope laughed quietly in response. "Sure. We'll celebrate all through the year."

"Mm-hmm." Vanille agreed pleasantly, and the both of them were quiet for a while as they went about other things, staying on the phone with each other. Hope settled into the small lab he was finally getting into a semblance of order, tapping lightly on the crystal that Yeul had given him. He would have to tell Serah would it sometime. If no one else, she deserved to know about it. She was the only other person who knew both Alyssa and Noel.

Just a little later, he told himself. She just came back from her honeymoon, after all. He'd give her a little more time to enjoy it.

"Hey, Hope?" Vanille finally asked again several long minutes later, and Hope made an inquiring noise. He could almost hear her smile from the other side, her voice soft and fond. "Happy belated birthday."

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The following week was nothing short of hectic, reflecting a weather of constant rain and wind, turning the moods of everyone living in the settlement just a little more somber and dark. Hope made his way between his home and the hangar that Rygdea set up for him on a daily basis, getting up early in the morning before the sun came up (which it did later and later by the day) to make a simple breakfast for both him and his dad.

It had been years since he last did that… and really, he had only ever done that for special occasions in the last timeline, but things were different now. Despite all he had to do, Hope remembered how to felt to be left all alone. He also remembered more sharply the mornings of waking up to his mother's humming in the kitchen and her laughter as he fake gagged over her experimental recipes.

Even if his cooking was nowhere like her's, even a simple breakfast of eggs and toast with coffee was better than nothing.

"When did we get a coffee maker?" His father asked in bewilderment one morning when Hope stepped to clean up the dishes.

"Mrs. Twiledger bought a new one." Hope explained. "So she gave us her old one."

"Mrs. Twiledger?"

"Downstairs." Hope explained. The housing complexes were almost finished, and already people were starting to move out from the temporary apartments. While most avoided Hope when they could, they were more cordial now that they were about to leave for bigger, better homes. Some of them even started greeting him in the mornings when he left, and a select few would smile as well.

Slowly, ever so slowly, things were starting to get better.

"Huh." Bartholomew intoned, still looking baffled, although he curled his hands closer to the mug of steaming coffee. "That's very nice of her — wait, Hope, are you drinking it as well?"

"Uh." Hope paused where he was picking up the dishes, and darted his eyes over to the half finished mug on his side, sans any sugar or cream. While his taste buds still insisted it was horrible, he remembered ingesting coffee so often in the future that he never thought about not drinking any. "...Yes?"

His father looked disapproving. "You'll stunt your growth."

Any other person might have panicked, but Hope already knew when his growth spurt would come in, and he had a long time to wait yet. He doubted he'd actually end up too affected by the caffeine in that manner. Dependence on the substance, on the other hand…

But then again, his father might be concerned over the fact that he hadn't grown any in the past several months.

"I'll be fine." Hope insisted. He already knew he'd hit his growth spurt around seventeen, and then another one at nineteen. He didn't mind that it'd be late, just so long as he didn't stay that short forever. "But won't you be late if you keep asking questions?"

He bit his lip after the question, smile dropping. It was a tactic his mom used to use to get them both to hurry up in the mornings, but…

Bartholomew glanced down at his food and nodded in agreement. "You're right. I've got a meeting in the hour…"

As his father hurried to down the rest of his coffee and make himself presentable for work, Hope set the dishes down in the sink carefully and wondered at the dull ache he still felt every time he thought about his mother. He doubted it was a pain that would ever go away, not when he had dealt with it for well over a decade already. If she were here now…

"I'm off." His father informed as he stepped into his rain shoes, work case in his hand and an umbrella in the other. "Remember to lock up and wear something warm before you leave."

"I will." Hope confirmed, and then listened as the door clicked shut as his father left. It took another half hour for him to clean up completely and organize the things he wanted to cover that day, before he looked out a window and saw that the rain had cleared up entirely. Instead, the clouds were clearing up to reveal blue skies and sunshine for the first time in nearly a week.

A good sign, he thought, before putting his raincoat away. It was still cold outside, colder than before with air that chilled a person's lungs as they breathed in, but at least now it was dry rather than wet even if the puddles on the ground seemed more like miniature pools than puddles.

While Hope had no fixed schedule yet, he still hurried out of the house soon after with his coat and scarf in his arms rather than on his person as he locked the door behind him and made his way out of the building with his nose buried in a datapad. Ever since he had gotten his exam scores back, he had been in near constant contact with various scientists from Eden University, some of whom he vaguely recognized as names who would later move their way to the Academy in order to continue their research.

He was halfway through the settlement before he remembered about the coat in his arms, reminded by his own shivering as the wind blew threw between the buildings. A sweater just wasn't going to cut it in this weather, no matter if the sun was out and shining or not.

Hope paused in his steps and shifted to turn off his tablet before attempting to slip the coat on, one arm at a time.

He didn't get very far with a tall shadow snuck up behind him and he turned, only to drop the coat and scarf (tablet and all) entirely in the mud as he was grabbed.

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There were no hands involved, nor were there any softness to his treatment. It would figure, actually. Most people tended to stay away from l'Cie give the change, even former l'Cie, it seemed. Instead, Hope struggled against the cold steel of machinery wrapped like a vice grip around his arms and torso, cursing his blindfold.

Focus, he thought to himself. Just because he couldn't see what was going on, or even really feel it except for the cold wind through the yarn of his sweater, it didn't mean that he was completely incompetent. The others would be able to find him, he knew, but until they did, he'd have to take care of himself.

Or even better, just get out the situation by himself entirely.

He could hear the distant voices of his kidnappers far away, the tone carried over only by the wind. They didn't sound very happy, and he couldn't make out the words, but there was shouting and anger and it was something that he could use.

Hope gritted his teeth as the machines jerked him up, his joints grating painfully at the whiplash. It was only getting colder, and he thought that must meant they were going up. A mountain? Up in the sky? Perhaps an airship, then. They could be heading for Cocoon, but the journey would take too long and then they would most likely be inside where it was warmer. At the moment, all he knew was that he was high up in the air and travelling fast.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had forgotten all about this dumb group of radicals, since in the first timeline he had been sheltered away from just about everything while they were popular. Now, he was throwing himself out to the world left and right and he should have expected this to happen, especially since the group had been on the news lately screaming blame for the l'Cie and citing all the recent little flares of magic to be the fault of the fal'Cies' downfall. They condemned the innocent children just starting to sprout magical abilities, citing them as 'infected' and a 'blight upon humanity'.

It was the fault of the l'Cie, they spat in the news. It was because those accused beings were allowed to live and spread their evil ways.

And with all the rest of the former l'Cie safe in a large group in New Bodhum, Hope had been the obvious and easiest target.

He kicked out as the machines changed course yet again, but his feet met nothing but air. His skin was starting to prickle with goosebumps.

"Knock him out before he can use that evil magic of his!"

The shouting came from far below him, and Hope wanted nothing more than to shout back, or maybe just punch the speaker in the face. If he could use his magic, if he still had it, then why in the world would he have waited so long to use it on them? Given how high up they must be, Hope would have burned the entire place down if given the chance and access to his magic.

He missed being able to twirl flames around his fingers. It would certainly warm him up. Even better was if he had access to Alexander still. Then he would need to see in order to get out of this situation. He… he missed his Eidolon, really. It was ridiculous. Hope had gladly traded his magic and summoning in order to escape the fate of all l'Cie. He didn't have a choice, but it would have been the same decision he would have made if he had been given a choice.

Right now, though, he was starting to regret that his lack of magic.

Just a little bit, he willed to himself. If only he could access just a little bit of his magic…

His feet kicked out again, this time in frustration as nothing came to him. Where once he could have willed the winds down, summoned lightning, freeze and burn opponents as well as throw them into a watery grave, now there was just nothing.

There was a prickling cold in his neck, and Hope's eyes widened in protest, opening his mouth to yell, to shout, to insult… but then the world blurred and the feeling of metal around him slowly diminished. He tried kicking out once more, but didn't succeed with more than a twitch before he rested his head against the cold metal of the machine gripping him tightly, losing his fight to keep conscious.

.

.

It was dark. Still so dark.

Hope startled away, shivering and tense as he pushed himself up to a defensive position in one smooth motion, his muscles aching in protest at the sudden change. He was in a dark, dank room with water covering the ground for maybe an inch. His clothes were soaked and he couldn't seem to stop his shivering once he registered the cold.

There was a dripping noise coming from all around him like rain, except he couldn't see the sky at all when he looked up. It was just dark and he couldn't so much as make out a ceiling, but there must have been something because no matter how cold it was, it must have been colder outside in the dead of winter. He would have been passed out for a while, as his skin felt like ice.

Hope pressed cold fingers against his arms, rubbing to try and get some warmth back. His gloves were cut and torn and soaked, not keeping any of the warmth, and he had to pull with his teeth to get the leather off as it insisted on sticking to his skin. After he managed to get both gloves off, Hope curled his fingers together to blow on them, jaw tense with cold. His legs were stiff as he struggled to stand up, his limbs feeling numb from the knee down.

He tried to take stock of himself and his surroundings. The walls were made of stone, and there was just enough ambient lighting for him to make out outlines of things, although he couldn't tell where the light was coming from.

He shivered. The sound of droplets was getting to him. He didn't like this situation at all, not when all of it combined brought up sensations he didn't want to remember. No. He was still alive, so no matter the situation, there was still that.

There didn't seem to be any enemies nearby. He rubbed his arms harder, hugging himself tighter to preserve warmth, although he wasn't sure how much warm waterlogged yarn was going to hold for him. He still had his pouch, good, although the contents were waterlogged as well and didn't seem to be much use after that. His phone was dead, and while it was comforting to have his boomerang, the weapon would be of no use in a small confined space. He rummaged through the pack with increasingly numb fingers, trying to find something, anything, that might be of use to him.

Candy wrappers, napkins, keys, several credit chips, and then…

He fumbled at the odd object, only to breathe out the held breath as he realized it was the small crystal that Yeul had given him. He brought it up, the light within the crystal shining in the darkness, although the illumination did not spread far. There was no warmth in the crystal, but Hope could pretend as he held it up and close. While it had been a clear light when he first received it, dim but brilliant, it now shone a tinted green reminding him of his Eidolith.

His empty wish. Hope brought it up to eye level to gaze it at for a moment, but then covered the small crystal in his palm. He didn't have the time to think about it for the moment. He wasn't even sure how it would work. Right now, he'd just keep it on him and make sure the kidnappers didn't realize how valuable it might be.

Slipping the crystal back into his pouch after weighing how useful it might be to have the dim light as a guide or not, Hope reached out blinding with his hands, stepping forward slowly until he found an edge of the stone wall. It was rough and chipped, but smooth enough that there would be no way to climb up. He followed it, fingers trying to find an edge that would indicate a door.

None. The walls were round, so round that Hope was sure he came back to the same point on the wall in under a minute despite how slowly he was moving.

He shivered. He had to find a way out soon or he might lose to hypothermia before he could continue.

As if hearing his words, there was the distinct sound of laughter coming from above him, and he looked up into the darkness, squinting in attempt to see better. It was suddenly brighter as a light shone down from the top, and Hope yelped and raised an arm to cover his eyes even as the laughter intensified.

"Guess our little monster's awake." A young sounding voice called down, tone mocking. The person couldn't have been more than twenty, twenty-one at best, voice still breaking slightly. "How are you doing, monster? Cold yet? If you think this is cold, wait till the snowstorm hits! Maybe you'll freeze to death and end up a statue. Then we won't have to deal with you any more."

There was more laughter, and a more feminine voice who responded, "Ooooh, don't say that! Then we won't be able to play with the little monster any more. We might get in trouble — we're supposed to make an example of him, remember?"

"Oh, that's right. Ending up a statue's the best possible end for you, right? We wouldn't want that, would we? Still need to expose you and your friends for the monsters you are."

"Maybe," Hope croaked back, his throat protesting as he called back, "maybe you need to look up a thesaurus someday, and maybe some brain cells since I'm sure the monster here is the people kidnapping others and throwing them into a hole in the first place!"

He was starting to adjust to the light, but it was still shining directly down, making it difficult to see anything beyond the light.

"Ha! He's trying to accuse us of being the monsters?" The voice laughed, and then grew more serious suddenly. "Listen here, l'Cie. You can't fool us. Whose fault do you think it is that thousands of people are dead? That our homes are gone? Huh? Maybe if you dropped dead when you were supposed to, none of this would have happened! You should have died during the Purge, monster."

Hope swallowed down his anger, his shaking no longer just because of the cold now. The Purge had nothing to do with the l'Cie so much as it had to do with ignorant people who would rather massacre an entire city than deal rationally with a threat that wouldn't have been a threat in the first place if they only talked it out.

All those people caught up in the Purge… all those deaths. It wasn't just his mother. It wasn't just Alyssa. It was the crying of children, the smell of burning flesh, the screaming and gunfire and explosions and so many running just to survive. Those had all been innocent people. Every single one of them. There was no excuse that would justify the Sanctum's actions of purging the whole city over the presence of one Pulse l'Cie, especially since the war with Pulse ended five hundred years ago.

He bit down on his tongue to silence his protests, though. He had long since grown used to understanding the type of people who would listen to reason and the type who wouldn't. There was no use in wasting his breath on them.

"Have fun freezing, monster." The more feminine voice taunted maliciously. "Don't worry — we won't let you die. You still have to pay for my little sister's death. She was in Eden, you know? Killed by one of those monsters you brought in from Pulse. Maybe you should think about that. You think you can get away with it just because you're young? Well, think again. We know what you are. And we won't ever, ever forget."

The laughter was gone, and the light disappeared again as a loud thud echoed through his ears. A lid. It sounded heavy, like stone grating on stone. They had him in a hole and just put a lid on it.

Hope kicked at the wall in frustration, yelling a short expletive. Maybe he wouldn't have done so as an adult, but at the moment he was tired and cold and plagued with memories of fire and gunshots. It was freezing, but the cold was nearly forgotten in his rage.

How — how stupid. He hadn't even been kidnapped by soldiers, or anything of the sort. He had been taken by a bunch of ignorant, senseless kids. Granted, kids who were a good five years older than him, but—

He sat down in the water, unheeding of the cold in his need to stew over the information. It was difficult to reconcile the hate in this time with the slow acceptance that Hope had grown acclimated to. Was this what his father had been protecting him from all this time? The first time around, Bartholomew Estheim had been insistent on Hope getting personal tutors, on living in areas with excess security systems, and not leaving the house unescorted… and even then, only with a very good reason.

This time… Hope growled and kicked out at the stone wall, splashing water everywhere. This time he had been the one insistent that everything would be alright. That the others were doing fine, and therefore he would be fine as well. He had been too preoccupied with his plans to notice that there was danger around him.

At this rate… Hope rubbed at his eyes, willing the heat in them to leave. He needed his fingers and toes to be warmer, not his eyes. When Bartholomew Estheim died when Hope was twenty-six, Hope had thrown himself ever more into his work, this time busying himself with the Academy that his father built from the ground up. The doctors said it was exhaustion, over work, but Hope always privately thought that it was partially due to worrying over him for so long.

This time… just how much stress was he putting on his dad? First the accident, and now this, all within a handful of months. He didn't know what time it was, or how long he had been unconscious. A few hours, maybe. But certainly long enough for someone to notice that he was missing.

Hope felt a pang of guilt. It wasn't just his dad, either. The others all worked so hard on keeping him safe…

The first timeline, Hope might have been mildly irritated by the overprotectiveness, possibly from the fact that he was the youngest. Dajh, after all, would never have to worry about the hate garnered toward the former l'Cie, being a Cocoon l'Cie as he had been. His involvement had been kept secret, and even if it had been revealed, everyone would forgive a little boy burdened with the heavy fate of being a Cocoon l'Cie. At least there was that.

Hope would receive no such leeway.

He had to be the more mature one in this situation. He was technically older, after all. Older than his kidnappers, at least. He had more experience on his side, more wisdom—

It didn't help. The anger felt like ice in his veins, along with guilt and frustration and layers of sadness and the feel of his skin going numb as it got colder and cold. He splashed at the wall once again, trying to work through the deluge of emotions before he could get back to rational thought again.

There was a curious sound as the water hit the wall, and a more curious silhouette that formed in the area. Hope paused, glaring at the spot before finally slinking out of the water to approach it cautiously, his elbows and knees now shaking from the cold. His socks felt like they were about to freeze inside his boots and trap his feet there forever.

He reached out to the silhouette, and then pulled back immediately as his fingers found solid form. Ice. There was ice on the walls. Was it really that cold? It certainly felt like it, but—

No, it wasn't just a thin layer of ice on the walls. It was actually a significant amount, enough for a foothold. He reached back out to trace it, pulling his fingers back fast as the cold started seeping into his bones. It was frozen over. It was the water he splashed on the wall.

He backed up a step, dumbfounded. Another shiver ran through him, and Hope raised his hands to rub at his arms again, wondering if he should just abandon his wet sweater. It certainly wasn't helping him at all, but rather gathering up and storing the cold instead of keeping in heat. In a split second decision, Hope pulled his sweater off over his head and let it fall into the water. After a moment, he decided to leave his soaked dress shirt and pants. At least he didn't feel so heavy now, burdened by wet yarn.

Now lighter, Hope decided to try again, kicking at the thin layer of water on the ground to splash onto the wall. Once again, it hit the wall and stayed.

Magic, Hope thought in shock even as he traced over the ice with his fingertips. He looked down and suddenly lamented over the fact that there wasn't enough water for him to keep splashing onto the walls, not all the way to the top at least. But magic. That was something he hadn't witnessed, hadn't felt, in a very long time. It didn't feel like he cast magic at all. He was just… cold.

He shivered. Really cold. It didn't feel like he was casting. There was no semblance to the tingling feeling of power coursing through his veins, or any real purpose. That in itself was dangerous, as he couldn't figure out what he was doing or how he was doing it — or even worse, if it was even him doing that at all. Maybe it was something else… the place? The situation? ...The crystal?

He didn't know. But it did mean an opportunity for him to get out… somehow.

He pressed his hand against the cold stone wall again, barely able to feel his fingers at all. What should have been sharp pains between the joints of his fingers were now dull and faded, which he took as a bad sign. If there really was a snowstorm heading his way, he wouldn't make it through down here. He needed to figure out a way out, and possibly with the magic, as soon as possible.

He pushed against the wall, willing the ice to expand.

Nothing.

Hope frowned, and pushed again, feeling the rough contours under his fingertips. Nothing happened, and he growled in frustration. He bent down and covered his fingers in water before pushing at the wall again. And once again, there was nothing.

Stepping back, he kicked again at the water, listening intently but there was nothing more than the simple slash of water against stone.

No, no, no, he couldn't have lost it already. Just what caused the ice?

He breathed out, trying to quell the rising panic even as his shoulders shook from the cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, hunched over and clenching his jaw hard to keep his teeth from chattering. Focus. How did he manage to do that before? If he couldn't figure it out within a set amount of time, it was better to go onto other options. But currently, he couldn't see any other way out of this hole.

He had been sitting in the water… had been so, so angry and so many other things. Hope closed his eyes, breathing in carefully before exhaling with only the slightest of shivers, his breath hitching. Cold. He was very, very cold. It was nearly all he could think about. He was so cold then that even his rage burned cold.

Distinctly, he could hear the crackling of ice, and Hope jerked as he felt something different under his feet. He tried to step away and found some difficulty until a sharp cracking sound gave way as he lifted his boots. He opened his eyes and gazed down into the darkness. Hope didn't have to see it to know: ice. The water on the bottom had frozen over.

Shoving down a mixed feeling of exhilaration and unease, Hope once again stepped forward and pressed a cold hand against the stone walls. While he couldn't see it, he could feel the freezing under his skin this time, the stone frosting over and finally turning to ice, spreading like veins along the surface.

He pulled back his hand slightly, willing the ice to follow. Slowly, ever so slowly, the cold continued after him until it formed a perch that he could safely grip, slippery as it was.

Taking a deep breath, Hope stepped on the lowest perch, the uneven ones formed by his splashing. He grabbed onto the top-most perch and pressed his free hand against the wall again, repeating the gesture.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he started making his way up the hole, although by the midpoint he had pretty much lost feeling entirely in his fingers and was grabbing clumsily and desperately willing the rest of his hands to work, pushing up with his elbows instead when he could. He was breathing hard by half way, but the higher up he managed to get, the more determined he was. This was going to work. The more he was getting used to the ice, the faster the footholds started to form.

He could see the top more clearly now. It was a wooden cover, outlined in a rusted steel. It looked extremely old, definitely not something that anyone from Cocoon would have made. Something of Pulse, then. They were still on Gran Pulse, although the elevation had to be higher for it to be so cold. Perhaps they were closer to the water, just as New Bodhum had been.

He could almost… Hope struggled with tired limbs to reach up and brush his fingers against the wood, feeling the frost spread along where he touched. He didn't need ice there, but at this point the reaction seemed involuntarily. He just needed to… to push...

There was a noise beyond the cover, and he froze.

" —no point in watching over him like this. Might as well go get something eat."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll take over."

It was the very same voice that mocked him earlier, and Hope grimaced. He waited, shaking with both exhaustion and cold, until the footsteps retreated. He felt like he could fall at any minute, not because the ice was slippery but rather because his arms could give out any moment.

Well, he thought to himself grimly. Here goes nothing.

Taking just a moment to gather his strength and nothing more than that (he was growing weaker with every moment wasted, after all), Hope shoved hard at the wooden cover, just in case there was a height weight on it.

Luckily, there was nothing and the cover came off easily, pushed aside like it weighed nothing as Hope scrambled over the edge of stone and clambered out of the hole unsteadily, pushing himself up onto shaking legs even as the person there 'guarding' him started shouting.

"Oh no you don't," Hope croaked out, his voice barely there at all even as he sent as much cold as he could feel toward the person, readying himself to charge. He didn't have to, though, as the ground frosted over in white and ice spread up in a thick vice grip around the kidnapper's body, literally freezing them in place. Hope watched the young man's expression shift over from shock to terror quickly enough, and felt a dark satisfaction deep in his chest before he shook himself out of that and stopped the ice as it reached the man's mouth, ensuring that he wouldn't be able to call for reinforcements. He willed the ice to soften just the slightest. Enough for movement to breathe. The rest would melt soon enough in contact with his body temperature.

He could have killed him. He could still leave the man there to die, but as Hope looked up into murky brown eyes, terrified of Hope, he stood down.

He wasn't a l'Cie any more. There were entirely different rules to this game, and he'd leave that to the authorities, even if the authorities happened to by the Guardian Corps rather than Psicom this time.

He looked up in the night sky, admiring the shining stars for just a moment before his gaze was lowered. The ground was fairly even, and the area was surrounded by trees, although the place near the hole was clear of any obstructions for a ways. He looked back to the stone hole in the ground, the top looking like layered brick and forming a circle perhaps a little over two meters in diameter. Was that what he had been trapped in? It looked so much smaller from the outside.

"Where is this?" Hope demanded, despite knowing that the kidnapper wouldn't be able to answer. His feet stumbled, legs giving out from underneath him. He just… he just needed to sit for a bit, that was all. It didn't matter all that much that he couldn't much feel anything below his knees any more. He could see frost on the blades of grass around the area, and the wind was harsher outside of the hole than it had been inside.

Hope was just too tired to shiver any more, although he felt warmer now than before. Probably due to his climbing. There were several lights set up around the hole (a well, he finally pieced together, a memory from the future), and he reached slowly to grasp at one of them, the light little more than a chemically activated glow-stick.

He wondered what he should do now. It was fairly obvious that he was far away from the settlement, and that there were other enemies around. Even if the others noticed he was gone by now, they might not be able to tell where he was. He'd be on his own for this one. His grip tightened clumsily around the glow-stick. That was alright. He had been on his own for a long time. He could do this.

Hope stumbled to his feet again, wishing that there was at least a fire he could warm up by. But a fire would be too much light, would draw too much attention. He had to find his way out of here before reinforcements showed up. Preferably find an airship, or any type of transport.

Direction, direction…. He looked up into the sky, standing unsteadily. The stars were bright but offered no guidance. The trees around them were tall, but… he could see the crystalline glow of Cocoon, even if the shape was hidden from him. That meant he couldn't be too far off. He followed the glow, turning slowly and willing his legs to move. Down. It was closer to the downward slope of trees. He'd have to—

"Hey! You there — stop!"

Too late, and too late Hope caught the glimpse of familiar armor — psicom — but of course those soldiers would be involved — before an explosive series of sounds forced pushed him toward the downward slope of trees, ripping through his side.

Gun. His mind warned him too late. Watch out for the guns.

He landed hard, his back crashing against frozen wood and his breath knocked out of him entirely even as he slumped and rolled involuntarily into the dense forest, struggling to catch his breath and panicking as pain ripped through him. He could feel a crack, several cracks, as he landed on the frozen ground.

My boomerang, he thought distantly. That didn't sound good at all. Moreover was the shattering sound, and Hope panicked for another reason entirely as he realized that the crystal Yeul had given him likely hadn't survived his fall intact.

He coughed, struggling to get enough air even as he pushed himself up with frozen and bruised arms. He could feel a wetness seep through the side of his shirt, burning hot. It was enough to snap his sluggish thoughts into attention, calling for one hand to press against his side immediately in attempts to stem the flow of blood, even as he hissed when his cold hand came in contact with the liquid which felt hot enough to burn his skin right off.

He struggled to assess the damage. It was to close to the edge of his side, less likely to be a deadly wound. Two inches off and the shot would have missed him entirely. As it was, the most pressing matter he had to worry about was blood loss.

Not to mention shock and hypothermia, his mind warned him. That would probably get to him before everything else.

The situation felt far too familiar now. The cold, the wet, the blood, and the pain… Hope's mind flashed to his last memories before he died. Ironically enough, it felt like the exact same situation.

He could see the soldier in his sight, illuminated by light and blurred in his vision. The trees were hiding him somewhat, although a few more steps and it wouldn't be any more.

No, Hope thought to himself. No. He could still fight. Would still fight, even if it was with flimsy magic that he barely had a hold on. The cold would be to his advantage. He's use it to his advantage if he had to, freeze over the wound and shatter that soldier to pieces with cold. He wasn't some helpless child and he wasn't willing to be a victim or statistic on the page. This time, he'd get out of this alive.

Hope grit his teeth, and pushed at the ground with his other hand, willing the cold he felt within himself to seep out, the spread and climb and attack like painfully cold shards of ice digging into skin and sinew. He wouldn't die here. He would be just fine, and he'd make his way home and sleep in his bed with the heater on full and wake up thinking this was nothing but a bad dream. One of many bad dreams.

He could feel the ice moving, could feel it connecting with the soldier like an extended limb, could hear the startled shouts, disbelieving until the sounds turned into screams.

Screams and —

His eyes grew wide. It wasn't just his ice. Had it just been that, it would not have been enough to hold the man in place and the Psicom soldier would have surely shot Hope through the heart by now. Now, there was something else going on, someone else involved in the fight who was fast enough to barely be seen through the blur in Hope's vision.

A blur of blue and glint of something sharp, something large, moved through his sight as the soldier screamed and fell silent soon enough.

What…? Hope tensed, readying the stream of ice running through his veins and willing his eyes to focus. Forget the cold. Forget the pain. Forget the clothes that were freezing to his skin. If there was a third party involved—

"Hope?" The voice was familiar. Shocked. Hope struggled to his feet, one hand still pressed tightly against his side and his expression grim and suspicious. The man didn't sound very old, perhaps around the same age as the rest of his kidnappers. Perhaps a little younger. Except the man called him by name.

Who are you? The question was at the tip of his tongue, suspicious, until he finally registered the shocked blue gaze and the vaguely familiar tribal patterns. Like Fang's. Like Vanille's.

Hope inhaled sharply.

"...Noel?"

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So I'm back in action, I hope! o9 Finally moving this forward. This wasn't, uh, written in order. I had a really hard time getting back into this and people suggested I write something else instead, anything else, but I didn't want to stop working on this story so I took a prompt about kidnapping and just wrote until I got back into the swing of things, and then I went back and did a quick transition. Oops. But any writing is better than no writing, in my opinion!