Chapter Seven

By: Calore

"You've been quiet," Ripley remarked to Avery as they walked to their next class.

Avery only shrugged. "Nothing to say," she muttered. Her eyes settled on Arial, who was walking ahead of them chatting with a friend.

"Did something happen?"

'No."

Ripley decided not to comment on the unusually sharp tone and switched tactics. "Will you be at practice today?"

"Of course. Will you?"

Ripley nodded. "I plan to. I may leave early, though. Some trouble with that essay assignment for history."

"That's not due for another few days," Avery protested, a scowl forming. "Don't turn into Arial."

Ripley could only grin in response to that. "Don't be so loud. She might whack you again." Her grin widened when Avery glanced at Arial quickly to see if her sister had heard. A small sigh of relief escaped Avery when her sister continued to chatter amiably, oblivious to her comment. "I actually think classes are important."

Avery scowled. "Just don't be late," she muttered waspishly.

"I won't," Rip said. The pair walked in silence, Rip's eyes absentmindedly on Arial's back and Avery's mind on Fang.

Fang. Her hand flexed hard on her backpack strap, crushing it in her grip. An odd tightness crept up her throat and her heart began to pound hard and deep. Her jaw clenched, a muscle twitching hard.

She shouldn't have come back, Avery thought furiously. Should have just stayed asleep where she belonged. Fang had abandoned them, left them alone for years and now she was back, expecting a fucking happy family reunion. Her other hand fisted, nails driving hard into palm. Fang had no right, none, to leave as she had and then expect anything from them. They were better as they were. They didn't need Fang to, to...

Be a part of the family, a small traitorous voice said. To be a father.

Avery ruthlessly crushed that voice, her throat constricting again. Maybe when she was still naive, she'd desperately wanted a father. Especially one who was greater than anybody's father, one who was exactly the great warrior her mother and Aunt Vanille had said she was, who could hunt oretoise down like a wolf to deer. Even though she'd been enthralled as her own twin by stories of Fang's exploits, deep down she hadn't cared what Fang had done. She'd only wanted for Fang to be there.

So that their family could be complete.

But her heart had hardened and she'd learned that not having a father was not as shameful as some had made it out to be. She'd learned how a fist to the face could silence a bully's taunting and shield her sister. She'd learned very well to make her weakness - her deep yearning for a father - to be something that defined her. She'd accepted that Fang would never return, something her twin had refused to do, and became Arial's protector.

And no bully dared utter a word about the Farrons' lack of a second parent. Not to Avery Farron.

Fang sat in the back seat of Serah and Snow's car and fiddled with the hem of her shirt, half-distracted. She wondered what thirteen year old girls liked to do on weekends. Despite the excitement that accompanied the thought of spending time with Avery and Arial, she felt an intense anxiety. Would they like her? Could she actually keep a pair of young girls who'd never met her before entertained? She frowned, scrounging through her memories with Vanille when they were younger, before they became l'Cie. She could recall certain carefree moments, like when she'd taught Vanille how to ride a wyvern. At the orphanage, every child had begged Fang to take them riding, but the matron, who was terrified of heights, had found out and strictly forbidden it.

Would they like that? Fang mentally blanched. What if Light didn't want her showing them that? Light wasn't afraid of heights, not when she was leaping off ledges and cliffs with the confidence of a hawk as Fang remembered, but children were always a different matter.

Weren't they?

Fang heard a faint tearing noise and looked down. She was wringing the hem of her shirt to shreds. Forcing herself to draw in a deep breath and not quiver with the sudden nerves, Fang looked out the window. "Where are we going?"

"Lebreau should be serving breakfast right now," Serah said from the passenger seat. "You've met her before, haven't you?"

"She definitely has," Snow answered for her, taking his eyes off the road briefly to grin back at Fang. "When we were back on Cocoon and Lebreau and the gang busted through that door. Remember, Fang?"

Fang only had the vaguest recollection of a woman only slightly taller than Serah with dark hair and an entirely too revealing outfit. "I think so." Fang suddenly recalled the enormous amount of alcohol that woman had served her. "I think I met her earlier, though. Before the whole mess."

"Huh, I didn't know that. Well, that's great either way that you two know each other. Anyway, she makes the best pancakes in town," Snow continued. "And we haven't told her that you're back, though she might have caught it on the news already. Her place is nice, loads bigger than before, too. You'll like it, I promise."

"There might be a small crowd, but Lebreau can get us a more private table," said Serah. They rode in silence briefly until Snow pulled into a parking lot. As they exited the car, Hope and Vanille's car parked next to theirs.

"Wow, it's gotten bigger," Dajh commented as he got out, looking at the large awning of the cafe front. "Doesn't it look bigger, Dad?"

"Sure does, son," Sazh replied. "Nice to see business is booming."

They entered the restaurant, which was only a little crowded. "Morning rush should be ending right about now," Snow remarked. He'd worked many shifts here when Lebreau moved the cafe to Pulse and even more when the cafe grew. Catching the hostess's eye, he waved off a hand. "Don't worry about it, Sandy, we'll grab ourselves a table." The hostess, a young woman who had to be about college age, grinned back and returned to clearing off tables.

He steered them to a large table in a quiet corner, taking a few menus along the way. Fang seated herself between Sazh and Vanille, taking a menu from Snow. Blinked at the odd characters printed on the menu.

Vanille, spotting her confusion, said, "Oh! I'm so sorry, I forgot that you can't read Cocoon words. I'll have to show you later, it's actually not that different from Gran Pulse. Here, this one is an omelet..." As Vanille explained each dish, Fang's eyes started to glaze over. She hadn't heard of those dishes in years. She remembered Vanille making them at the orphanage, but the ensuing time after that...

The Arks had not had restaurants.

And the only time she'd been in a restaurant with Vanille, both of them had been equally clueless about reading the foreign characters. And even so, she'd ended up dragging out two punks, beaten them and stolen their money. But Fang considered that a good memory.

"Do you know what you want, Fang?" asked Vanille.

Fang blinked and opened her mouth to say that she'd just have whatever Vanille was having, except with more salt, when she heard the explosion and crash. Her spine stiffened and instinct screamed to protect Vanille. Every muscle in her body tensed and she lunged, tackling Vanille hard to the ground. "Stay down," she said to Vanille's open-mouthed expression of surprise, and shot up to her feet in a battle stance, hand groping at her back for her lance.

It wasn't there. She froze in shock for an instant, but shook it off. She could fight with her bare hands just as well, or take a weapon from an enemy...

She blinked again. She expected a battlefield or an arena, but all she saw was an unfamiliar restaurant, still quietly buzzing with conversation despite the pounding in her ears. She saw that she was surrounded by people and those close enough were staring at her. Her breath coming fast and hard, Fang swiveled her head to see two waitresses busy cleaning up several broken shards of white ceramic from the floor. She remained frozen, her mind scrambling in confusion. She'd heard an explosion. She'd heard it.

Do you really belong here? You're a killer, bred for battles and massacres, not breakfast with playmates.

She jumped when she felt Sazh's hand warm on her shoulder. "It was just some dishes breaking, kid," he murmured soothingly, eyes full of sympathy and understanding. "It's all right. Vanille's safe, look."

Fang forced herself to look. Hope was helping her up, but she didn't see any blood on her. No torn or scorched clothes. Not a young girl cowering in fear, but a woman being lifted up by someone else.

You rabid dog. Fang flinched visibly.

"Just breathe," said Sazh.

She obeyed, until the roaring in her head stopped, until her fists loosened. Feeling more in control, she felt horrible embarrassment seep in. Her cheeks burned and she turned her face away. She had overreacted to breaking dishes. Just dishes. And flung Vanille to the ground unceremoniously. She was aware of the pitying looks on her. Her cheeks burned. Her legs tensed, her throat filling with things to say so she could leave and not have to bear their crushing concern.

"Welcome home, hero," said a voice behind her. Fang turned her head.

A woman with dashing long dark bangs and ponytail stood behind her, a sultry smirk on her lips. She wore a pair of slacks and an indecently cut blouse that left too little to the imagination. Her face was angular and her golden eyes sly, like a fox's.

"Lebreau!" Snow greeted cheerfully. "I'm surprised, you're actually up before noon today. Didn't you work the late shift last night?"

Lebreau straightened, letting her hand rest on a cocked hip. She sighed gustily. "I did, but a little birdie woke me up this morning to watching some interesting news on TV." Her eyes slid down to Fang. "Something about a hero coming back after a very long journey."

"You've met Fang before right?" asked Snow.

"Far too briefly, if memory serves." Giving Fang a friendly look that exuded easy charm, Lebreau turned to survey the group and smiled sleepily. "Have you all ordered breakfast? If so, I might not be able to join you. I only rolled into bed a few hours ago."

"Stay," Serah pleaded. "I haven't seen you lately, I've been so busy with the girls and at the hospital. And you can get to know Fang."

"At least for a few minutes," Vanille added earnestly, her eyes taking on that puppy look Fang never could resist. Even Dajh was nodding and getting up to fetch a chair.

Lebreau finally acquiesced and her chair somehow migrated to sit between Fang and Vanille with the latter's squeal of delight about Fang making new friends. Fang didn't want to make more friends. She was having enough troubles on her own.

The bartender turned to Fang immediately once she settled down, her smile warm. "I'm Lebreau."

"Fang."

"We've met before." Lebreau tapped her chin a few times, her expression thoughtful. "Yes, thirteen years ago. You came in alone, but only because you were looking for Vanille. I remember your drink."

Fang looked at her curiously. "You do? After thirteen years?"

"I have a good memory. Wouldn't be much of a bartender if I didn't. It was whiskey. You looked like you needed it."

Fang couldn't remember herself what she'd drank. She'd almost never had spirits before and Lebreau was right about why she was at the bar that night: she had been looking for Vanille, feeling remorseful for pushing her inside that elevator.

Lebreau leaned in a little, her eyes kind. "You look like you might need it now, actually."

"I don't think I like spirits," Fang muttered. She remembered the liquid burning on the way down and making her eyes water. No, she had not liked it, especially the light-headed feeling it gave her afterwards.

"No, I didn't think you would. The whiskey was just to show you."

Fang looked up at that, her brow creasing. "You were trying to warn me away from liquor?"

Lebreau grinned cheekily. "I'm a bartender. It may be part of my trade, but I've seen what it does to people. I'm not much of a drinker myself. And neither are you." Her eyes flicked over Fang, a slightly calculating look in them. "Light said you're a hunter. A good one."

Fang's back straightened, her chest puffing out slightly. "I am," she said with the faintest hint of pride. And she was more than just a little eager to have a purpose, something to expend all this excess energy she seemed to be brimming with.

"Do you think you'd be interested in a job?"

Vanille seemed to have heard that and turned to them. "What kind of job? It better not be something dangerous, Lebreau. Fang just got back and we don't even know if she's all right yet."

"Well, we have a doctor here, don't we? What do you think, Doctor Farron?" Lebreau asked Serah. Fang had to think for a moment when she heard Serah's title. She'd forgotten that the slight girl was now a capable caretaker.

"From what I saw, Fang looked fine physically. But that was only a brief look. Did you have anything preexisting, Fang? Anything that might cause you trouble?"

Fang opened her mouth to say no, that she was perfectly fine, when she remembered the promise she'd made to Light earlier in the dressing room. She unconsciously closed her hand over the wrist of her injured arm, recalling the intense phantom pain. She could feel the weight of everybody's eyes on her, especially Vanille, who would ask if she said anything.

Serah was all too familiar with the hesitant expression her patients had when there was something they wanted to keep loved ones from hearing. "Well, it's best that I take you into an actual exam room actually," she smoothly interjected, covering over Fang's silence. "I can give you an official clean bill of health with that."

Fang jumped at the lifeline and clung. "Yeah, I think that'd work best. But I'm definitely healthy," she hastily added. "I'm good for any job you have in mind."

"Well, once you have your mother's approval," Lebreau said with a pointed look at Vanille. "I'm sure I can find something useful for you. Spring always brings work here on Pulse. Like rampaging oretoise."

"You better not be having her herd them," Vanille said with alarm. "That's the GC's job!"

Lebreau propped her chin on her hand, elbow resting on the table. "Not all of them are trained for it, you know," she said reasonably. "Numbers have been growing the past few seasons. We're going to have to seriously think about culling them if we're not to be overrun."

Hope looked up with a wince. "Pleasant, that. It's been certainly talked about with the higher ups, but it'd be difficult finding a way to tranq them and do that. Killing a few might be best, you know, put out a few contracts, but the body removal would be a mess."

"You'd have to remove the carcass," Fang said. "Leaving them there just attracts scavengers." Fang turned back to her menu, suddenly feeling hungry. "Culling them would be much easier," she said absentmindedly. "Paddra's right by oretoise territory. They used to cull the bulls to keep them from driving caravans off roads. There's a natural herb mixture that puts them right to sleep."

She looked up, not noticing the table go quiet. "I think I want pancakes. They look good."

Hope was grinning while Lebreau and Sazh both had thoughtful expressions on their faces.

"Have you had experience controlling the herd, Fang?" Hope asked.

"Some. Too many and they can drive off game. Are sausages salty?" Fang pointed at the picture on the menu. "If they are, I want them with my pancakes."

"They're salty, Fang," Vanille answered with a smile. "You never said anything about herding the oretoise. I thought you just liked hunting them."

"Not much of a challenge since they're so slow."

"You and Light were always after them, though."

Fang's cheeked pinked. That was because they had not always been chasing oretoise when they said there were. Clearing her throat, she said, "Light liked to upgrade our weapons, remember?"

Vanille pursed her lips. "Hm, you're right, she did. Well, still! That sounds like something you'd like."

Fang opened her mouth, then closed it. "Well, I don't really know what kind of job it'd be," she said, feeling uncertain. Gran Pulse was different now. Even if it meant doing something familiar with beasts, she felt uneasy

"You don't have to make a decision now," Lebreau said, seeing Fang's hesitation. "I can tell you, though, that the pay is good. Anyone with enough balls to go chasing after a herd of giant turtles is going to get a lot of gil for it, especially if you can do it well. This isn't your average nine to five job, though I have a feeling you wouldn't want that kind of job anyway," Lebreau added with a smile. "I know it's probably been a big day for you, so just think about it. I'll give you the contract papers to look over and you can let me know when you're ready."

Fang smiled gratefully at her. "Thanks. I, I really appreciate it."

And for the first time in a long time, Fang didn't feel quite so lonely.

By afternoon, Lightning had wrangled with enough reporters and forwarded her choices for possible interviews to General Ramza. She'd even managed to finish up leftover paperwork that Maxwell had left on her desk before finishing up last minute meetings. She went off duty just in time to avoid the late afternoon traffic and saw the tail before she was two blocks away from headquarters.

"Well, that's annoying." She glanced at the time, tapped her fingers against the wheel. She didn't have the time to play with Sanctum lackeys, but nor did she want them following her to her own children. Her personnel file would show information on the twins and a deeper dig would pull up more on their school. They probably knew what the school schedule was, knew what the girls looked like, their names, ages and description.

But it was the principle of the thing.

With a thin smile, Light stomped on the gas just as the light went green. She swerved past a vehicle, zipping in and out of traffic close enough that Maxwell would have been whimpering in the passenger seat if he was there. Reminded of that, she called her adjutant from the car's phone.

"Maxwell. You're supposed to be off duty and letting me enjoy my time off, Colonel," Maxwell said prissily.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was I interrupting something important?"

"Maybe." She thought she heard an indignant sniff and grinned.

"Imagine that, my adjutant has something important that his superior isn't aware of. Why don't you enlighten me?"

"No need," Maxwell sniffed again. "It's all gone. I-" A very loud squeal of tires cut him off. Light glanced in her mirror and lifted a brow. Not one, but three tails. Well, then.

"I hope you're not doing your apparently important business in my office."

"But that's the very best place. And sir, I heard something that sounded alarmingly like tire squeals. I hope you're not racing the seventh squad's captain on your way to pick up your own children."

"No. I have three tails. Trying to lose them."

"Oh? Sanctum tails?" There was a rustle and the sound of tapping keys. "Do you have the plates?"

"I have two. Haven't caught the third yet." She read them off. "Oh, I see the third. They're trying very hard to keep up."

"Well, you're not going anywhere important on the way, are you? Somewhere you haven't told even your beloved, faithful assistant?"

"Stop kissing my ass and give me the plate records."

"My favorite activity. Yes, government plates. Registered to the Highguard for Councilman Hyral. Currently, Hyral isn't in town, he should be visiting New Bodhum. His entire Highguard should be with him, maybe a select few here for his family." More tapping. "I can find who's here in town, but it's going to take some time. It's going to raise some flags, too, searching Highguard files."

"I don't care. They're fucking tailing me while I'm off duty. Get me the files, forward them to my personal computer, encrypted. I'm going to lose these clowns and go home."

"Try not to get yourself killed, sir." Light disconnected the line, did a quick scan of her surroundings and peeled sharply around a corner. She turned again down a small, narrow street, pulling in front of a parked truck, obscuring vision from the main street. One down, she thought, watching a dark car speed down the road. Shifting into gear, she continued eluding the tails until she was satisfied they were going around in circles in vain and headed to the school.

"Hi, Mom," the girls said as they climbed into the car. Avery was still in track shorts and her hair damp from a shower.

"Where's Cally?"

"She's getting something from her locker," Avery said with an eye roll.

"Ah, the eye roll," Light said, watching Avery through the mirror. "You're both turning into teenagers on me. I'll be seeing more of that eye roll."

Arial looked up. "Only from doofus here." She blinked at Light. "Did something happen at work?"

"Why do you say that?"

"You look kind of... happy."

Light grinned. Fielding questions from reporters was not on her list of favorite things, but capping the day off with confusing Sanctum tails probably put her in a better mood than usual. "Something like that."

"Like with Fang?" Arial's gaze became earnest. "I saw you on TV with Fang and everybody."

The passenger door opened and Cally threw herself in before Light could answer. "Sorry, Aunt Light," Cally puffed. "I forgot to get my homework."

"Seatbelts," Light said and merged into traffic.

"Mom!" Arial whined plaintively.

"What?"

"I asked if anything happened with Fang."

"Well, she was on TV," Light said mildly. "Did it look like anything happened?"

"No," Arial admitted. "But did you talk to her?"

"What about?"

"I don't know, stuff. Can she visit?"

"Shut up," Avery growled. Arial ignored her.

"Can she, Mom?"

"Let's talk about this at home," Light said gently. "How was school today?"

"A lot of people was talking about Ragnarok," Cally said with wide eyes. "Ari showed me you and her and Mom on TV and she didn't look like Ragnarok at all."

Light had to laugh. "She's not Ragnarok anymore, Cal. She's Fang."

"Can I meet Fang?"

"We'll talk about it at home," Light repeated.

Avery remained silent and stared sullenly out the window.

At home, Arial immediately asked about Fang again, but Light sent them off to do homework with the promise of a talk after dinner. With Serah still at the hospital and Snow somewhere else, Light riffled through a cookbook for dinner recipes. The Farron cookbook was well worn and loved, heavily annotated with notes from both Serah and their mother. There were even sticky notes for the recipes that were simple enough for Light to manage that Serah had left, along with noted improvisations on the ingredients and directions. Flipping to one page with a note attached, Light glanced at the message.

"Don't walk away from the oven to do work! STAY PUT AND SERIOUSLY WATCH FOR 10 MINS, SIS!"

Light snorted. "Could be finishing up some reports instead of eyeballing the oven." There were more messages.

"Don't burn the chicken. Move it around the pan a lot, try not to make a mess."

"I don't leave a mess."

"And I always have to clean up after you, BE NEAT."

"That has nothing to do with the recipe, Serah," Light sighed, reading over every nagging scribbled message. To any normal person reading the messages, they bordered on condescending and vaguely insulting, but Serah Farron had long learned that she preferred an intact and mostly unharmed kitchen over offending her soldier sister.

Light was in the midst of preparing a simple dish when the house phone rang. Cradling the phone between her shoulder and jaw, Light answered. "Hello?"

"Oh, good, you're home already," Serah said.

"Mm, I've been home a few minutes already. Still at the hospital?"

"Just a little while longer, I have a few more patients to check up on. Are you making dinner?"

"In the middle of it, yes. Girls are off doing homework."

"Don't leave the kitchen unattended," Serah said automatically, a smile tugging at her lips when she heard her sister grunt something unintelligible and probably rude. "Snow should be getting home soon, too, so he can finish up making dinner."

"I can make all of it without your husband butting in, you know."

"Yes, but there's usually a few casualties along the way," Serah replied, tongue firmly in cheek. "Anyway, I was just calling to check up on you guys. I have something I want to talk to you about, but best not on the phone. After dinner, probably."

"Oh? Did a reporter try to talk to you?"

"Surprisingly, no, I haven't seen any. It's about Fang."

Light immediately stopped what she was doing and focused her full attention on her sister. "Tell me."

"It's not an emergency and, like I said, I'd rather not talk about it over the phone. Just something I thought I should bring up."

Light closed her eyes and tried to keep the sudden flood of worry and impatience at bay. "All right. After dinner, then." The phone clicked off and Light placed it back on its cradle. Turning back to the pile of vegetables, Light called on her familiar soldier training, tuning out all thoughts but the task at hand. A few minutes later, she heard a car door closing and the front door opening, the sound of heavy footsteps telling her it was her brother-in-law arriving.

"Hey, Sis," Snow greeted, dropping a large duffel bag to the floor and nudging it safely away under an overhanging counter top. "What's cooking?"

Light blinked and look down at the neat piles of sliced vegetables. "I'm not really sure," she said honestly. "I think it's a casserole. I just picked a recipe from the book."

Grinning, Snow gently nudged her aside. "I know the recipe. Why don't you clean up and I'll take care of the rest. Serah should be home soon."

Light tried to leave without looking too grateful, but the speed in which she fled probably made that effort pointless. As strode out, she heard footsteps and saw her niece headed for the kitchen, but stopped short when she spotted her aunt. Light smiled, her hand going to ruffle the top of her blonde head. "Finished your homework already?"

Cally shook her head. "Not yet, Aunt Light. I wanted to see Dad."

"He's in the kitchen, kiddo," Light said. She headed for her study and turned on her laptop. She glanced over the files Maxwell had sent. Her lips tightened. Maxwell had left a message that he'd verified Councilman Hyral's alibi with a small contingent of guards. The tails had used cars registered to Hyral, the remaining guards temporarily reassigned to a different councilman. She didn't have to look to know who that was.

Light wondered what excuses Delita would have to make for that.

But something was off. The guards had been too blatant, not in the least subtle. Most civilians wouldn't have noticed, but Light was a trained observer and had seen them coming, not quite believing that they'd be so brazen. Leaning her head back against her chair, she closed her eyes and let her mind roam.

Delita wanted her to know he was watching. There'd been no communication from General Ramza, nothing sent to Maxwell or any of her other subordinates. No orders, no reassignments. Nothing but silence when she'd expected exactly the opposite. She had prepared herself to be brought forth to the High Council almost immediately after the press conference. If not that same day, then another day, but at least today something would have been scheduled. Instead, she'd twiddled her thumbs and worked as though there wasn't an axe somewhere above her head.

It was unsettling. What did it mean? She expected to be watched. She'd been watched ever since she became a l'Cie and even more when Cocoon dropped out of the sky and she'd always made sure her family was kept out of those prying eyes. She wouldn't let anything like that touch her daughters, Serah, everyone. They were precious to her, people who needed to be protected and she did so fiercely with no exceptions. But there was Fang now.

Light opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Was Fang family to her? She hadn't thought of it back then when they were still l'Cie and foolishly in love, but she'd have done anything to protect Fang. Fang, her friend and her comrade. And, she forced herself to admit, a former lover. Thirteen years between them now.

Fang, who was damaged, who had lost too much, who didn't know how to live. Fang, who was a l'Cie for too long and who had been forced to make terrible sacrifices. What was Fang now to her?

Light sighed and rested the back of her hand over her eyes. Her thoughts had roamed too far from their original point. Whatever Fang was to her, Light would keep the cameras and reporters and delusional politicians as best she could. Fang deserved to make her own life here and that life now included a place with the girls. Which she would need to speak to about the upcoming weekend outing.

She was feeling very nervous about it. She didn't know how they would take the news, though she could imagine it very well. Arial would probably be overjoyed. Avery would, at best, throw an impressive sulk and, at worst, outright refuse. But if Arial wanted to go and wanted Avery to go, then she would persuade her reluctant sister. She knew how much Arial wanted to know Fang, but her sister was equally, if not more, important to her. Arial would not leave Avery out of a family outing. Avery would like Fang, she thought. She just needed to give her a chance. Avery and Fang were so alike. It was obvious, even when Avery had been small, who she had taken after. Always wild and exuberant, brimming with such energy that it'd even exhausted Light. She could see how Fang was, just by looking at her older child.

"Do you think Fang will come back?" Avery peered up at her mother from her spot on the floor, toys scattered around her.

Light smiled gently, her face never betraying the doubt she had only just started to feel. "Of course, baby."

Her green eyes serious, Avery turned back to the open book on her lap. They were learning about the War of Transgression, but only a little. She knew there were things being left out because nobody mentioned how Cocoon was made from Pulse land literally or even about Pulsians or Yuns or Dias. Nothing but stories about the battles Cocoon won until Ragnarok appeared. She was seven, just a month shy of her birthday and desperately hungry for knowledge about her heritage, for anything about her father. None of the teachers ever talked about how Ragnarok saved Cocoon and she'd once heard one teacher say it was Ragnarok's fault that they were stuck on Pulse now. Stuck in hell.

When she told her mommy about that, her mommy had gotten a funny look on her face and hugged her. Avery wasn't sure if her mommy had done anything because when she went to school the next day, she hadn't seen that teacher again. She was a little afraid to ask her what happened.

It had been almost a year since Vanille had woken. The flagging hope Light had carried was renewed to a veritable inferno when Vanille appeared at the foot of the Spire. When first told of the news, Light had sat frozen in her office and the moment the messenger left, she had calmly locked her door, closed the window shutters and sobbed.

The twins hadn't understood then that Fang wasn't with Vanille. They'd been excited, exuberant even, thinking that Fang must be with Vanille. Hadn't all the former l'Cie said how dedicated Fang was to Vanille? Vanille had looked almost crushed with guilt the moment she saw the twins. She had known instantly who they were. Anyone who'd seen their eyes would have known. Vanille, who had a good cry herself after Light took the twins away from the Corps hospital, had turned to Hope afterwards and said, "I wouldn't have come back. I wouldn't have let Fang do that, sacrifice herself for me, if I'd known."

Even if Light had heard Vanille's words, they would not have brought her any consolation. She hoped, she prayed, she agonized, for weeks and then months until the weight of it began to feel too heavy. She didn't let her doubt show, but her girls noticed. On a particularly bad night when Light couldn't bear the thought of going to bed and finding Fang waiting for her in taunting dreams, Arial had managed to find her way against her mother's side and curled next to her comfortingly. Light had fallen into dreamless sleep as she stroked Arial's soft hair gently, lulled by the surge of maternal instinct.

But while Arial sought to soothe her, Avery seemed to bottle everything up inside. She no longer asked Vanille for stories of Fang and seemed to resent mentions of her, going disturbingly quiet.

"What if she doesn't?"

It hurt to think about it, especially coming from her own daughter. Her oldest, so strong, but so fragile.

"Then we'll still be a family. We'll always be a family, sweetheart."

"If we're a family anyway, why are you waiting for her?"

Light had no answer for that, only able to look at Avery in mute shock.

Avery pushed forward even though her heart was pounding, even though it hurt the way her mother was looking at her, even though she had been waiting, waiting, waiting so hopefully, for that stranger to come home.

"We don't need Fang," Avery insisted, her hands going strangely damp and clammy. "You have me and Ari. And Aunt Serah and Uncle Snow and Cally. We don't need anyone else. We're a family and it's supposed to be good enough. You said so."

"Baby, I-"

Avery shook her head violently, ashamed at feeling tears welling up, but forcing them down. She would not cry. She was the oldest one and she was supposed to take care of her family. But no matter how young she was, no matter how hard she bit the inside of her cheek, she couldn't quite keep one from slipping out. "We don't need to wait for, for F-Fang. It's, it's okay if she doesn't come back, if she never comes back, because we'll still be together. It's better if she doesn't come back."

Light opened her eyes. How could she have not seen that her own daughter was hurting? To have been so blinded by her own desperate hope to see Fang again that she didn't see the pain huddled deep inside that small, frail body?

"So stop waiting for her. It-it makes you and Ari and everybody else sad and we don't need her. We don't!"

Light knew it was the truth. Though it hurt, hurt so much that it was sometimes unbearable, they'd persevered. They'd moved on without Fang. Had it been her fault, though, that she'd told them so much about their father? Raised expectations too high and set them to be crushed spectacularly as it had that day when Avery couldn't bear it any longer?

Was she so selfish to tell them about an illusion that could never come true?

No. Fang was here now. Fang wasn't an illusion. She was real: blood, flesh, and warmth.

But Light couldn't stop the next inevitable thought.

Was the ideal of a family still an illusion?

Author's note: I know. So overdue. I've had this molding half-finished somewhere and just... didn't think to update. lol? I'm very sorry! I've also been busy with work and school, so I'm afraid updating has been rather difficult. However, I am definitely still dedicated to getting this thing finished! I'm also very studiously ignoring XIII-2 and will certainly not be playing that pile of crap.

In the mean time, though, I'll just be in this corner, weeping over Mass Effect and Shepard. But I still love Light and Fang. Really. If I could, I'd hug them to my bosom and force them to make up instead of writing this stupidly long fanfiction.

And, of course, E.G. Szyslak gets credit for tolerating my infrequent updating and bad grammar.

ILU GUYS :D