Title: Trust
Pairing: None really
Rating: K+
Words: 2,169
Summary: It's Lightning's birthday and Serah has quite the surprise up her sleeve for her.

A/N: I know it's been a long while since I've done much. Don't worry, I'm not quitting writing or anything. It's been difficult trying to get anything down the last 10 months despite all the great things that have happened this year. Like super hard. Luckily I had this fic sitting in my folder from like 3-4 years ago that I was almost done with and decided to finish it up. I hope you can enjoy this.

So here's my thinking behind this one. I always had the idea that Lightning blew up at Serah on her birthday because Snow had the audacity to ask for her hand in marriage on top of Serah telling her she's a l'Cie. So what would happen if we removed Snow from the picture entirely? Let's find out. Enjoy!

Lightning's back thumps against the couch. She breathes a single, exhausted sigh, a whisper across her lips. She's finally home, and today was her last day of work for a while. She's grateful.

A soft click reaches her ears, and her head snaps up. The front door opens and in comes the reason for next week's vacation.

"Sis, you're already home?" Serah's light voice rings out, and a gentle wave ripples through Lightning's taut body, relaxing her.

Lightning stands, watching the smaller figure step through the doorway. Cerulean eyes trace over her sister's frame, slumped shoulders and half-smile indicating her exhaustion from school. Something else is out of place. Lightning squints, landing on an unfamiliar bag dangling behind her sister's back. Whatever it is she's hiding, it's a pretty pathetic attempt.

Before Lightning can utter a word, Serah drops the bag and dashes forward, locking her arms around Lightning's neck. She buries her face in Lightning's sweater before muffling. "Happy Birthday, Claire!"

Oh.

How pathetic is it to forget your own birthday? Still, a smile tugs at her lips, and her eyes catch the clock on the television. Indeed, it is May 13th. Of course, she doesn't necessarily have to check; Serah always remembers.

Lightning wraps her arms around Serah in a tight embrace. "Thank you"

Serah pulls away. She picks up the bag discarded in the doorway and snatches Lightning's wrist, dragging her into the kitchen. Serah lifts the bag and places the navy blue plastic on the table.

Lightning watches her. The soldier's eyes trace every movement – hands dipping into the bag, lifting a cream-colored box to set it on the table. Fingertips caress the seemingly velvet lid and intricately wrapped bow and flower, nails tapping the top. Serah bites her bottom lip — an old, nervous habit, Lightning recalls — and pushes the box towards Lightning. It makes no sound sliding across the table.

"It's your gift. You should open it." A smile plays across Serah's face, but something about it seems off. Serah waits, rubbing her upper left arm. There's a bandage there Lightning didn't catch before.

Hmm… Lightning notices the slight rise of her sister's eyebrows, and the smile turns wry. Lightning doesn't want to upset her. She grabs the foot-long box — velvet, like she suspected — and inspects it. A canary-yellow flower rests on top of a lavender bow. The lid is lined with pink polka dots in perfect rows. A smile tugs at her mouth. Definitely Serah. Not wanting to upset her sister, she lifts the lid.

Lightning's brows rise, and her lips part. Resting in golden satin is an object she hadn't expected. Her fingertips run along one end of it — ebony rubber with a gold finish at the tail end. It all clicks together in a second. A knife.

Lightning traces it, picks it up, and holds it in front her. She flicks it open. A silver gleaming blade juts out, six to seven inches in length, she figures. The blade's belly is curved and sharp. Rigid teeth line the back of the blade, and she figures they're jagged enough to shear metal. Just on the belly of the blade, something catches her eye. Written in perfect cursive, her name, "Lightning," is engraved. A smirk catches her lips. "How practical." She hadn't expected much for a birthday gift, but this is Serah she's talking about.

The younger Farron cracks a half-smile. Her eyes dart from Lightning to the knife and back again. "Do you like it?" Her voice is quieter than Lightning expects, cracking on the first word, almost child-like. Why is she so nervous?

Lightning nods. "I do. A lot. Thank you, Serah. Just… how did you know what to get?"

Serah scratches at the bandage again. "Oh. I… just did a little research. That's all."

"I appreciate it." And even now, Serah doesn't look like herself. Lightning notes the ever-present slump in her shoulders again, crystal eyes focused on the floor, hand still pawing at that bandage. Lightning ambles around the dining table to step in front of Serah. Her sister takes a step back. Odd. Something is definitely up.

Lightning runs the back of her hand over Serah's cheek. "Serah. Is there something wrong?"

"No. I-" She sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, there's something wrong. Something major."

Lightning narrows her eyes. "Nothing at school, right?" She hopes not. It wouldn't have been the first time Serah was picked on by some desperate boy.

"No, no not at all. It's… bigger. I just-" Another sigh, and she looks up. "Lightning. Claire…"

Lightning winces.

"I need you to listen to me. Just listen. That's all I'm asking. Please."

Serah…?

"Okay. What do you need to tell me?" Lightning crosses her arms. Of course, she has no idea what Serah wants to tell her, and her heart races. Lightning's eyes lock on to Serah's hand.

Serah scratches at the bandage once more. Her fingers quiver as she removes it, unraveling the gauze right before Lightning's eyes. It takes a minute before it falls completely to the ground, revealing an ebony tattoo beneath.

Lightning's eyes widen. What the hell? "Serah. Serah, you're…"

"Branded? Yeah…"

Something inside Lightning explodes. Her insides drop into the pit of her fiery core, and she can almost taste bile. "A l'Cie! Serah, you're a l'Cie?!"

Serah flinches at her snarl. She lowers her head, ponytail draped over her shoulder.

Shit. Holy shit.

Lightning shakes her head. Serah? Enemy of Cocoon? Not her sister. Anyone but her own sister. Her eyes trace the outline of the brand on Serah's arm. The top is solid black, resting over a lighter grey. Two arrows jut out from each end. Lightning isn't imagining it – it's a Pulse l'Cie brand. She's been trained to look out for these.

"Pulse…l'Cie? Enemy of Cocoon…" Lightning can barely think straight. Her head pounds, heart jackhammers, palms sweat. My sister. My everything. Not her…

"Sis…" Serah looks up expectantly, eyes glassy and red. She makes a feeble attempt to shield the brand with her hand, but to no avail.

The soldier steels herself. "Serah. You're… a Pulse l'Cie. Enemy of Cocoon."

No. Don't you dare say it.

"It's my job to deal with you." She clenches her teeth at Serah's visible wince.

Serah looks up, her face a mess of red cheeks and tears. She scrunches her eyebrows. "Lightning…? I…" She shakes her head and bolts out of the kitchen.

Lightning catches a slamming door in her ears. Great. Now, what?

She pinches the bridge of her nose. Her heart hammers against her ribcage before falling. Fingers tremble. Her legs are near giving out. What… did she just do? Nice work, soldier. Serah comes to the only person she trusts for help and you completely shut her out. Some sister you are.

More sounds attack her ears. Dry, heaving gasps for breath. A choked sob.

Fuck. What did she just do?

Lightning slams her fist on the table, stares at it through clouded vision. What are you doing, soldier? Go fix this! You owe her that much. She does. Despite the hardships and trials the two have endured, Serah has always been there for her — through their parents' deaths, through the hell they call Guardian Corps. basic training, through the terrible work days leaving her utterly exhausted. Lightning literally has no excuse to not fix what she's just screwed up.

But…what if Serah didn't want her? Lightning shudders. Serah has a stable history of locking herself in her room when she's upset. That's mostly for petty issues, but this problem lies on a much grander scale. Pulse l'Cie? They are…dangerous, as every Cocoon resident learns. They are the embodiment of evil, the monsters that go bump in the night, the dreaded beings parents use to scare their misbehaving children. But they are a real threat.

Every soldier in Guardian Corps. is trained to handle potential Pulse l'Cie threats, whether turning them in or eliminating them if absolutely necessary. All those accused of being l'Cie or coming into contact with the Pulse Vestige are sent to be purged. Lightning had been told that those unlucky individuals were to be exiled. But how exactly could she do that to her own sister? Why would she just turn her in and leave her to fend for herself or worse? What kind of sister would she be if she did? What… what would her late mother say?

No. No, she can't. She won't leave Serah like that, especially after all the two had been through. She has to fix this.

Lightning sucks in a deep breath and rubs her eyes with the heel and back of her hand. She straightens herself, military discipline setting her body rigid with confidence. She marches through the house, stopping in front of Serah's bedroom door.

The sobbing has ceased. Lightning hears nothing and takes a deep breath. This is it.

With two knuckles, she raps on the door three times. There's no response.

"Serah?"

Nothing.

Lightning's hands go clammy, and she rubs them on the side of her skirt. Okay then. Not unusual. She knocks again.

"Serah? It's me. I just want to talk."

A minute passes. Lightning bites her lip. She's worried, and she should be. She knows Serah is upset with her but… that isn't what bothers her the most. In Serah's mind, she probably thinks that Lightning has given up on her or doesn't care. In a way, it's Lightning's worst fear. That… or maybe Serah has run away. No, no, can't think like that. Though, the fear remains present in the back of her mind. It's never taken this long for Serah to answer, no matter how upset she is at Lightning.

Lightning cups her hand around the doorknob, knocking one last time. "Serah, please. Let me come in."

For the last time, there's no response. Lightning expels a heavy breath from her nose. Her grip on the doorknob tightens, and she forces herself in.

Serah's room, while normally light and welcoming, looks akin to a dungeon. Despite knowing of nothing strewn about the room in a disorderly fashion, Lightning still finds herself tiptoeing in, careful to not to disturb whatever lies within. Her eyes catch the slight shift of material upon the bed, and she relaxes just enough to bring herself out of savior mode. At least Serah is still here.

"Serah, hey. We need to talk."

"What for? You've already made your point."

Lightning feels a pang of guilt at those words, biting her lower lip. "I… I know what I said. And it took me a second to realize how bad it was." Lightning sits on the side of the bed next to Serah. "I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean any of it."

Serah refused to turn and face her. "Then why did you say it?"

Lightning swallows hard. "Because… I- it's my job. My job as Guardian Corps." She couldn't make that sound any worse if she tried.

"Your job? That's it? Is that all you care about, Lightning? I thought we'd be there for one another. T-that's what mom told us. Apparently that just didn't matter to you."

"Serah, I didn't-"

Serah whips around, pointing her index into Lightning's chest. "You did. You did mean that. All I wanted was for you… for you to be there for me. I'm just-" Serah lowers her head as her words crack.

"Just what, Serah?" Lightning scoots closer.

Serah can't respond. She throws herself into the pillow, sobs shaking Lightning to the core and rocking the bed frame against the wall. She coughs, chokes, dry heaves in a way that Lightning has never heard before.

It's pain. Pure, unadulterated pain that Lightning feels hearing Serah go through this. She's terrible, just terrible, for what she said leading up to this. She needs to make this right.

"Light… Claire…" Serah chokes out, turning around.

Lightning doesn't break her gaze, eyes burning with oncoming tears.

"I'm… I'm scared. Really scared, Claire."

The elder Farron understands and wraps her arms around Serah, burying the girl in her chest. "I know. I know, Serah. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She repeats it. Over and over and over again. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Serah chokes out more sobs, wetting Lightning's sweater with tears and probably mucus. "I need you, Claire. I'm so scared…"

Lightning can't hug her any tighter. She pulls away, holds Serah at arm's length, and locks eyes with her. "Serah. I know this is hard. I know. And I'm sorry for what I said. I just… I want you to know." She pauses, steeling her emotions, grounding herself, putting on the face she's used for years to support them and rise through the ranks of Guardian Corps.

"I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. Whatever it takes. Even if it's my own life. I owe you that much." Lightning pulls her back into the embrace. "I promise you. I won't let them take you away from me."