a chaotic heart
Chapter 10
.
.
Hope looks dead on his feet but otherwise not too different from when she saw him last – barring his expression. But she can't see that, because his father is hugging him, and then his mother – and then Snow, much to her surprise.
Much to Hope's surprise too, because he stares wide-eyed at the man and, unlike with his parents, does not return the hug. Instead, he twists free and bolts back out the open door, and Nora runs onto the sidewalk in her apron and house slippers to try and catch him. 'Hope!' she screams. Claire cranes her neck. Hope isn't even looking at the road as he crosses it and the park beyond.
It's not a very crowded park, nor very large. In fact, it's more an undeveloped slab of land the council or some good Samaritans have changed into a shortcut route. No proper asphalt roads but instead brown winding tracks that the grass hasn't covered. And empty, so they can easily spot the blur of grey getting further and further away.
Snow stands still in shock. Nora stays on the curb and wrings her hands together. Move! Claire screams in her mind. Why isn't anyone moving?
She moves herself. 'Snow,' she says, voice calm. 'Give me your keys.'
He turns slowly. Impatient, she snatches them from his belt and has thrown a leg over his bike before he can protest. 'Don't!' Bartholomew cries.
She doesn't listen. Instead, she turns on the ignition and gives chase.
.
She doesn't know the area. She doesn't need to either. Hope is moving in a straight line and she only needs to approximate his speed and get far enough ahead before turning into one of the roads parallel to his home one and cutting him off.
That's the plan, and it works perfectly. Including the bit where Hope doesn't see her coming until she's got him pinned to somebody's fence.
But she hasn't planned beyond that, and now she's got no idea what to do. Her mind is still a buzz, and the short drive haven't helped her eyes or throat….or mind. 'Hope,' she begins, and then, because she's not sure, she doesn't know, 'Bhunivelze –'
He jerks and almost escapes her hold. Almost, but not quite because her technique is perfect. She's no soldier in this world but that doesn't mean she's forgotten how to be one. Except how to keep her emotions under lock and key, perhaps. And that's all because of Lumina.
On the other hand, she'll have been forever in the Unseen Realm if it wasn't for Lumina…and for Hope.
'I'm sorry – ' But the apology is too late. Far too late. Hope is screaming by now and she thinks she should already know all of Hope's screams by now but she doesn't. It's an unfamiliar sound.
A crowd gathers, and with it murmurs of "that Estheim boy" that tell her this neighbourhood, at least, is well aware of surface circumstances. A few of those murmurs are sympathetic. A few others more scorning. But nobody misinterprets her as an attacker and get in between, at least – and it's all too easy a mistake to make, with how she's holding him.
But she can't let him go. Not before, when he's slipped away from her three times now. And not now when he's thrashing as he is. And the fence is a thin picket line. It won't hold both their weights, or even only Hope's if he continues to thrash like he is.
She wishes he'd say something – and then doesn't. About Bhunivelze, about the Saviour – she doesn't want to hear those things right now, or ever. But she also doesn't want to hear these nonsensical screams. 'Hope.' She says it gently, and firmly. 'Hope. It's me. Lightning. Light. Claire.' Not Saviour. She's not going to say Saviour. She gives him a gentle shake as well, then a harder one. Wishes she'd pinned him the other way around so she can lift his chin like back when they were l'Cie but she can't, and she needs both hands to hold him anyway so the thought is moot.
So are her words, it seems, because he does not respond. The fence does, however. Creaks and leans back a few inches and Claire tries to pull them both away except she can't. Techniques are remembered. Physical strength is another matter. But the crowd see her struggling and two men manage to pull the struggling boy away from the clumsy wall.
She winds up pinning him to the ground until he passes out instead.
.
The Estheims don't bother with a hospital. They simply wave off attempts to help and clean him up and settle him into bed.
'I'm sorry,' Bartholomew says, when he returns downstairs. Nora stays up, ever the guardian angel for her son. 'I should have mentioned. He – doesn't like being restrained.'
'Restrained.' The word leaves a bad taste in Claire's mouth. But Hope… 'He can't possibly –'
'Can we be more frank?' asks Snow tiredly. 'I feel like the both of you are skipping important bits of information, on purpose or otherwise.'
It's a surprisingly astute observation from him – and unfortunately true. 'Our entire live stories aren't relevant,' Claire sighs, though that's not it either and they both know it.
Bartholomew, at least, is more forward. 'I'm sorry,' he says. 'This we just plain forgot to mention, but sometimes – it's hard.' He closes his eyes. 'He panics when he's restrained. Someone holding him with both hands. Pinning him. Or even he's wrapped himself in his blankets too tightly. Of course, they tend to restrain him at the hospital and that just makes things worse…'
'Chicken and egg,' sighs Claire. She forgets where she's picked the phrase up from, but it's a fitting one for situations like this. 'Anyway, the only things with restraints and Hope I can think off is when Bhunivelze decided to give up using Hope's soulless body as a puppet and broke it like a doll.'
Snow's hands shook again. 'How – why – '
'It was Bhunivelze's way. Hope told me himself, on the last day. That Bhunivelze was going to throw him aside and let him melt into nothing.' She closes her eyes. 'That would have been kinder than the truth.'
Silence again. Too much of it, this day. 'And the restraints?' Bartholomew asks. 'I don't –'
She's forgotten to mention that part. 'It's the neck, first,' she explains. 'Bhunivelze, in his real body, reaches out a finger and just – snaps it back.' She remembers the horror that tingled in her body at that scene – and every nightmare after. 'Then strikes the body, again and again and it just drifts in space, and the only sounds are the bones breaking – and then he pulls out puppet strings and Hope's just hanging there, empty broken body – ' She can't go on. She really is crying now, and neither Snow nor Bartholomew are comfortable or able to help her. If it was Serah, she'd hug her around the middle. The Hope back in their l'Cie days might have done that too. Who knows? Maybe Snow would have, before a thousand years taught him common sense.
Instead, Bartholomew offers him a tissue and Snow stares at her like she's grown an extra head. 'What?' she snaps at him.
He shakes his head. 'I kind of wish you'd left a bit of him for me to plummet right now,' he mutters.
Her lips twitch. It would have been amusing to watch, but she can't entertain the idea until she's sure Bhunivelze really is nowhere to be found. Nowhere…like in Hope's body, or clinging, like a parasite, to his soul.
.
They leave after the late lunch Nora promised them, because there's nothing to be gained by staying. As unsure as the Estheims are, they still have more experience and, hopefully, a greater understanding under their belts as well.
As for Claire, once again on the backseat of Snow's two-seater motorcycle, she's just got a heavier load to carry back with her.
Snow is silent too, probably thinking the same. He knows little about Bhunivelze, but he's always liked Hope: like a kid brother and a new life can't erase the bonds of the old. Not completely, anyway. Whatever reason Snow's had for not seeking out the others isn't enough to keep him from worrying about them. She's sure of that. Just like she's sure Snow's never stopped loving Serah.
'Will you come for dinner?' Snow asks, finally. 'Serah hasn't seen you for a while.'
'I can't,' Claire replies, more an excuse than anything else. 'I've got work at seven.' She can be a little late for work. She can not show up at all, and though her boss won't be too pleased, he won't fire her for one unexplained absence…or even a few. Sometimes, she wonders how he even runs a business with enough profit to pay his staff and his own life, but he does. Or maybe he's just inherited a ton of cash from his forefathers. 'I'm sorry,' she adds.
'Why?' he returns. 'You've done nothing that warrants an apology to me.'
'Haven't I?' She smiles into his jacket. 'I hadn't been watching the rear before. Hope told me it was okay, that I had – well enough for him, at least. But now I haven't been watching the rear again.'
'None of us have,' Snow reminds. 'We'd all have found each other much earlier if we were.'
She doesn't tell him that she knows where the others are, even if she's never gone to see them for herself.