14 Feels Like Home

Friday morning was partly sunny and cool, but not as much as it had been. The air felt dry on his skin and smelled sweet, like rain-soaked soil. The front door to the Villiers household was open halfway; Caius slipped through the gap and hesitated a moment to let his vision adjust to the comparatively dim interior. Serah was already up, sitting on the couch at the back of the room with her eyes on the television, but she gave him a small wave as she sipped from a clear plastic cup of bluish liquid.

He nodded an acknowledgement to her, looking around. Snow opened the door to the master bedroom and came out in his uniform, though he looked a bit disheveled and exhausted. Still, he greeted Caius with a chipper "mornin'" before making his way to the coffeepot.

"How was training?" Serah asked.

It took a moment for Caius to realize she was speaking to him. "It went very well," he said. "All fifteen recruits were exhausted by the time all was said and done. Though, so was Lightning."

"Yeah, she walked in here like a zombie," Snow said.

"Had some soup and went to bed," Serah added.

Caius frowned. "Is she up yet?"

"Haven't seen her."

Concerned now, he turned his attention inward, toward the Heart of Chaos and the bonds the two of them shared. He had already told Lightning that what they shared were their "hearts" – if he told her the truth, about chaos and what this bond of theirs truly was, he wasn't sure how she would react. There was a reason, a very good reason, why they could feel and touch one another across vast distances. In truth, even if they were separated by not only space, but time as well, he suspected they could still touch.

He felt her discomfort, her pain, her exhaustion, and knew the illness had finally taken its toll.

He excused himself and headed for her bedroom.

The door was closed, and no sound came from within. Raising a hand, he knocked gently, then held his breath and listened. Though faint, he did hear something, but felt it more as a shameful tug on his heart. He slowly opened the door and peered inside.

The only light came from the lone window on the far wall – a murky, gray-gold shaft of sunlight that didn't fall on the bedridden figure lying with her back to him, pink hair disheveled, tangled, and spread out over the pillow behind her head. Sympathy immediately flooded him; he moved into the room and shut the door, leaning on it a moment to gaze down at her. Save for the rise and fall of her chest with her breathing, she didn't move, the covers a mess but pulled up to her face all the same.

"Lightning," he murmured. He had warned her. Rygdea had warned her in his own way. Serah had tried to warn her. Now, she paid the price for her arrogant tenacity.

She moaned softly, shifting position beneath the covers. Caius frowned at her, wondering why she had insisted on doing her job even though the exertion would cost her many days of sick leave. Despite his sympathy, he felt, more than anything else, a sense of disgust and anger that she would do this to herself. The woman was independent and stubborn and strong, and all of it had finally caught up with her. Now the recruits would need additional time, as he would most likely have to train them without her, and she would be out of sick leave before long. How many days did she have saved up? Not enough, he suspected.

Then she groaned, sounding as though she was in pain, and his anger immediately fizzled out. Moving to her side, he gazed awkwardly down at her, wanting to do something but not sure what. In the early years, Yeul had gotten this same virus – everyone did, even himself when he was very young – and he had dutifully taken care of her whenever he had the opportunity.

Lightning was his companion, but what level of care did their hard-to-define relationship dictate?

"Lightning?"

The woman grunted softly, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes were dull, dark circles beneath them, hair an absolute mess, fabric wrinkles pressed into her skin from lying in one position all morning. "Hey," she said, but it came out more as a shameful croak than her usual strong voice.

He gave her a severe look. "What did I tell you?"

"You were right," she muttered.

He hummed softly in his throat and placed both hands on his hips. "Look at how pathetic you are. Unfortunate."

"You're not helping."

Hearing her sound so weak and helpless made him realize he was on the verge of being too hard on her, so he sighed and carefully controlled his tone, softening it and lowering his voice. "You will be like this for a few days at least," he said. "You may become severely nauseated, but typically nothing comes of it. You will also be feverish. Aches and pains are the primary source of discomfort."

"They are now," she said weakly.

Wanting to comfort her, more out of his ingrained protective instinct than anything else, he restrained himself from reaching out for her. Already he had pushed the boundaries of their relationship the previous morning, and although she had dismissed his embarrassment, he dare not push his luck. The norms of Cocoon's society were different from his tribal culture, and he had to learn to remember that.

"I will see if anyone can remain here to care for you," he said. "I cannot – I must continue training the recruits."

"Fine by myself, you know."

"Inadvisable. If not watched carefully, it can take a harsh turn for the worst. It is best if you're not left here on your own regardless. Trust me."

She drew the covers up to cover her eyes. "Sure."

"What you need most is rest."

She whimpered softly when she tried to shift position again, a sound that threatened to punch a neat hole in one of the few remaining walls he still had up between them. He moved to the other side of her bed to face her directly and saw one of her hands just visible beyond the covers, the fingers pale and nail beds nearly white. Reaching down, he gently tucked it beneath the covers, closer to her body.

"Coulda done it," she murmured.

He straightened. "Perhaps, but now you don't need to." Hesitating, he gazed down at her. What more could he do for her? He had a job to do and other things to take care of. While it would not be the same, training the recruits without her, it still had to be done. Eight weeks was not a long time in the grand scheme of things. "I must be going," he said quietly. "I will make sure someone's here for you."

She murmured, "Okay."

Half-wishing he could stay with her, he moved away without much enthusiasm, gently opening and closing the door before looking up to see Snow and Serah still in the main room.

"Well?" Serah asked.

Caius frowned and moved closer. "She's not doing well," he said. "She will need someone to stay and watch her. I have training I need to finish. Snow, you have work to do as well. Can you stay, Serah, just for today? It will be less difficult to manage caring for her on the weekend."

Serah crossed her legs. "Can't you?"

"No, I must–"

"I doubt I can get a substitute on such short notice," Serah interrupted, "but I can try, I guess. I know you have to be training the recruits, I get that. I know it's important. But you're supposed to be doing it together, and if you can't, then what's the point?" Grunting, she stood, though with a hand to her back. "Here, I'll call the school and see if they can get anyone. If they can, I'll stay. If not, you are."

Caius looked helplessly at Snow.

"Don't worry, big guy," the blond assured him. "Worst comes to worst, I got the authority to give you the day off if you need to stay and take care of her." As Serah walked over to the landline telephone and picked up the handset, he leaned on the counter and rubbed his chin. "I get it, though, we need those fifteen guys. If you really think you can train them alone, start prayin' there's a substitute."

Caius looked carefully at him. "I do worry about her," he admitted quietly. "This… illness. It concerns me."

Snow half-smiled. "It's okay. She's your friend."

Serah began talking to someone on the phone, and both men immediately held their breaths to listen. She and the other person exchanged greetings and a brief "how're you doing" before Serah got the conversation under control and explained her situation, calling Lightning's condition "the doom virus".

"Okay," Serah said. "Okay. Mmm-hmm. Got it. I'll let– okay. Yeah, it's– yeah, it's… it should be on my desk or in one of the drawers. I can get someone to run– yeah. Yup, that's it. Okay. Thanks so much. I'm hoping this'll be the only time. Thanks for understanding. Mmm-hmm. Bye." And she hung up.

"Found one?" Snow said.

Serah nodded. "Sure did. Well, Caius, you won this round. But don't think I'm lettin' you off easy." She gave him a very pointed, somewhat severe look, which confused him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You and Lightning are supposed to be companions, and you even told us you'd be trying to spend more time with her," she reminded him. "What's better for bonding than caring for her a bit while she's sick? It can't hurt. Besides, it'll give you something to do."

Caius grunted. "I am merely her friend and little else."

"Friends worry about friends, and you're definitely worried about her." She raised a hand to place her index finger on the gap between her eyebrows. "Those frown lines tell me everything I need to know. You're worried about her being sick and trying to hide it."

He looked her in the eye. "Perhaps, but it still–"

"Give up," she told him. "I'm sorry you're human and have feelings."

He bristled at the insinuation of her words… before suddenly realizing he was being defensive and making himself look guiltier. He was worried, but the concern would have to wait. He would go to work, do his job, and try not to spend too much time with her. While it was true they needed to bond, something as intimate as caring for her while she was sick was a dangerous path indeed. Caius, as he saw it, had done far too much in his attempt to wreck the happiness of others to deserve his own. Besides, if he let her into his life proper, he could lose control, and it would only get his heart broken again – should he ever let himself slip, even once, she would never return his love.

And that was the most dangerous path of all.

"Serah," he said, trying to be honest without giving everything away, "I would prefer not to spend too much one-on-one time with her if I can. Please don't ask me why, just… try to understand."

Her brow furrowed. "Caius?"

"Please."

The woman who resembled her sister in so many ways finally nodded. "Alright," she said. "Go ahead and go to work. I'll stay here with her. But I do expect you to take care of her when you get back. The rest of us have things we need to be doing in the evening, okay?"

He nodded. "I understand."

She smiled at him. It was refreshing to see, and made him feel a little better.

"Will you be okay here alone?" Snow asked.

Serah turned her smile to him. "Of course, silly bear," she told him, grinning now. "I'm okay at work every day, aren't I? Besides, I'm only four, almost five months along. The baby's not gonna be born until at least late spring or so. Don't be so paranoid!"

"It's my only child!"

"Mine, too!"

Caius couldn't help but watch in amusement.

"I gotta get going." Snow plucked a fruit out of the fruit bowl, rinsed it off, and bit into it as he gave his wife a quick hug. "See ya tonight, okay?" he said around a mouthful.

Serah sighed. "Don't be late. And don't talk with your mouth full."

The blond waved goodbye before striding out the door; Serah yawned and wandered over to the fridge. Caius stayed where he was, thoughts wandering off toward the bedridden Lightning. Part of him wanted to go back in there and stay with her for a bit, but it was a very small part and easily controlled. The problem was that the two of them had not directly defined the boundaries of their relationship. If they had, he wouldn't be in this position.

"Caius. You listening?"

"Hmm?" Surprised, he looked at her. "My apologies. Did you say something?"

She looked knowingly at him. "Thinking about her?"

He grunted. "Somewhat."

Serah nodded, but didn't pursue the subject. "I know how to take care of her," she said. "In fact, there's even an established way to make sure the illness doesn't last a real long time. By Monday morning, she should be doing a lot better. Don't worry, okay?"

"Serah," he said, "remember that she was my enemy for a very long time. There is no reason for me–"

"But you are. Don't keep denying it, Caius."

Thinking this was the best time to leave, he merely turned away. "I must be going," he said, and headed for the entrance.

"Caius."

He paused. "Yes, Serah?"

"I promise I'll take good care of her, for both of us."

Wanting to throw himself into his work and forget about everything, including these tumultuous feelings in his heart that moment, he nodded and walked out into the cloudy sunshine. All of those thoughts, feelings, worries, flashes of anger and bitterness, would have to wait. Once she was lucid enough to have a discussion with him, they were going to put a stop to this once and for all.

Serah opened the door to her sister's room without knocking, leaning in to see how she was. Lightning was on her side with her hair splayed out everywhere, back to the door, and appeared to be asleep if her heavy breathing was any indication. Serah hesitated, wondering if she should wake her sister. Though she wouldn't feel like it, she had to eat and keep herself hydrated to help rid herself of the virus's toxins. She also had to stand up and move around to keep her blood flowing, or else everything became stagnant. Knowing Lightning, she would be happy to do so, but her body would do everything it could to prevent that.

"Hey, sis," Serah said, and knocked on the door now that it was open. Lightning's breathing changed and she moved a little beneath the covers.

"Guh," was her sister's response.

Serah choked on her giggle and sat on the bed. "Feel awful yet?"

The other woman groaned.

Reaching out, Serah stroked her hair, straightening out some of the kinks. Her poor sister had survived going up against giant robots, fal'Cie, Cie'th, feral creatures, Eidolons, militarized beasts, and a fully-powered Caius Ballad in his comfortable, chaotic Valhalla. Now, here she was, getting trounced by a bug. Honestly, it was a little difficult not to laugh, even if she did honestly feel bad for her.

"You need to eat," Serah said. "I'll be here today. Caius went to keep training the recruits. I'll bring you some food, and I expect you to eat it. Got it, missy?"

Lightning groaned.

"Oh, don't be like that. You can sit up. C'mon."

Another groan.

"I know it sucks, sis, but you can do it."

It took a bit of time, some painful writhing, and a small bit of involuntary whimpering from her normally strong and no-nonsense sister, but finally Lightning sat up and looked at Serah, dreary-eyed.

"Good." Serah moved over to the window and opened it. "Stay sitting up. I'll be right back. Don't lay down."

Lightning said nothing, sulking.

Going back to the kitchen, Serah chose as many whole and fibrous foods as she could, including native fruits and vegetables, along with a freshly-made blue juice she still didn't know the name of that Lebreau had made only the previous day. It was sticky and smelled faintly like flowers. Combining everything as best as she could, even cutting several of the foods into strips and cubes to make it easier for her sister to chew, swallow, and digest, she arranged it on a plate, grabbed a bottle of the blue juice, and returned to her.

"Here, eat," she said, and waved the plate and bottle under Lightning's chin. The woman gave her a look that was certainly one of sulking before taking the offering.

Serah sat down again and watched as Lightning picked through the foods, squeezing a few with her fingertips before picking them up, popping them in her mouth, and chewing slowly and carefully. Neither of them spoke; Lightning ate very slowly, obviously in great discomfort, and finished half the plate and the entire bottle before grunting and setting everything aside.

"Okay," Serah said gently, "now you can lay down and rest."

Lightning did just that; Serah pulled the covers up to her chin and tucked them around her very carefully.

"Caius will take care of you from now on."

For the first time, Lightning's blue eyes were suddenly quite focused. "Huh?" she mumbled.

Serah smirked. "You heard me."

"Oh, no…"

"Oh, yes. I already told him he would. He's your eternal companion – I'm just your mortal sister." Serah shushed her before she could say anything else and stood. "Now, digest and sleep. I'll put the rest of your food right here on your nightstand so you can get to it when you need to, okay? I'll be in the living room. I'll come check on you once in a while, don't you worry."

Lightning closed her eyes and gave a lengthy groan. Serah couldn't tell what for.

"Hey, Lightning?"

Her sister opened her eyes, if hesitantly.

"I'm really happy you're back with us, and safe."

Just visible above the very top of the covers were the vestiges of a smile on Lightning's face. Returning it, Serah patted her hand, even though it was buried by the covers, before turning away and closing the door. Yawning and rubbing her back where the pregnancy made it hurt, she went back to the kitchen, scooped up a bowl of ice cream, and plunked down in front of the television.

Caius at least had the decency of waiting until the house grew quiet again (once Snow had gone to bed and some visitors had passed through to say hello) before finally, reluctantly, admitting his concern for Lightning. For most of the day, he'd had no bad feelings about her at all. In the late afternoon, though, it seemed as though her sickness got worse, sending aches and pains into his joints if he reached out for her. Somehow managing to pull himself together long enough focus on work, he still didn't get done until six o'clock that evening, long after the sun had disappeared.

"Serah–"

"Her fever went up some." Serah looked up at him from the television.

Caius stared at her, then quietly cleared his throat, stuttering softly for a moment. "How did you know?"

She smiled knowingly at him. "You can't fool me."

"Hmm?"

"It's all over your face."

"I fail to see what you're referring to."

"Of course you do," she said matter-of-factly. "It's on your face. You generally can't see your face without a mirror. No, I mean, that you're worried. Those frown lines betray you, Caius."

He sighed. "I've… never been good at hiding my feelings."

Shifting position on the couch, she crossed her arms over her belly. Caius looked at it, thinking of the implications for the future that as-yet-unborn life carried. He had seen many infant Yeuls in the past and had cared for them all at some time or another. His concern was seeing an infant again, though the name would not be Yeul, and how he would react. Would it send him over the edge?

But then he shook that thought away. By the time the child was born, it shouldn't be a problem for him anymore.

"What's up?"

"Hmm?"

"You shook your head."

He shifted his weight and looked at the door to Lightning's bedroom. "Merely thinking. That's all."

Serah nodded. "Go see her."

Caius didn't look at her as he moved toward the bedroom, gently knocking on the closed door, then waiting to hear or feel some sort of response. All he got was a weak acknowledgement in his heart; frowning, he opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. "Lightning?" he murmured.

The covers were down around her waist and the window partially open, telling him she was feverish. Moving to her side, he looked awkwardly down at her, not sure what to do.

She looked up at him. "Hey, you."

Hearing her speak made him feel a little better. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Any better?"

She gave a weak shrug, but a smile played at the corners of her lips all the same. "You were right," she muttered, turning her head a little toward him. "You really were. Sorry it took… me getting to this point to figure…"

Hearing her grow weaker, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "You need your rest."

"Been sleepin' all day."

"You need more, it seems. Don't be ashamed."

Her eyelids lowered, but didn't close. "Serah says… you'll be taking… care of me… this weekend?"

"Don't speak. Save your strength."

"Yes… or no."

He grunted. "Yes. Now sleep."

She hummed softly, eyes closing. "Can't make me," she pointed out. "But, if… it'll… make you… stop…"

He gently squeezed her shoulder, knowing the illness made every nerve in her body hypersensitive. "It shall," he said quietly. "I will check on you later. You will also see me tomorrow morning." Gently rubbing the joint with his thumb, he hesitated before stepping back and letting go. "Sleep well."

She grunted softly. "I will."

He backed out of the room and hesitated again once the door was closed. Reaching out with his heart, he brushed up against hers, trying to feel her. Though she was still rather closed off from him, he could still feel her as she weakly reached out for him as well. For a moment, their hearts touched and entwined, just long enough for him to give her a little warmth and comfort. It was enough, for when he finally retreated, she seemed more at peace than before.

"All good?" Serah still sat in front of the television with a bowl of pale-orange-colored ice cream.

He nodded. "She's fine, and resting. I told her I'd check on her later."

She nodded. "Door's locked at night."

He nodded. "I shall not need it."

Serah looked carefully at him. "Really?"

"I can feel her." Raising one hand, he clasped it into a fist and held it over his half of the Heart. "When the Heart of Chaos was split between us, it created a link, a… bond, one could say, unlike any other."

She looked curious. "Really?"

"According to Pulsian belief, all humans have a piece of chaos within them. We call it the 'soul'." He hesitated, then chuckled quietly. "It is man's attempt to make sense of that which is so far beyond us that we can never fully grasp it, not in this world."

"So… it's your souls that're linked, not just your hearts."

Caius hesitated again, much longer this time, and met her gaze. "Yes."

Something flicked across Serah's features. "Does she know? Just how deep this bond goes, I mean, or what it really means for you two? Does she–" She paused and took a breath; he waited patiently. "Does she know what this could mean for your relationship?"

He sighed. "No, she does not, and I'm not …" Uncertain, he stuttered a moment, then gathered himself once more and said, "I must tell her someday, I know, but…" Trailing off, he looked at the floor.

"That's why you don't want to spend time with her, isn't it?"

He looked up. "Serah?"

"I get it. You're worried that because of your special bond, it'd be too easy to let things slip, to get to know each other really well and… well, get really close to her, if you know what I mean."

"I'm not ignorant of the possibility."

"It wouldn't be bad."

"No, but considering the past we've had, it may not be wisest." Thinking back to the previous day and what they had done before training the new recruits, he turned his back and cringed a little. Even if the future that awaited them dictated that something stronger than friendship could rightfully form between them, he wasn't sure it would be the best thing for them to do. Lightning hadn't yet had the pain of separation from people she dearly loved. She hadn't yet had to deal with anything he had. She just didn't know what it could mean.

"Caius, don't be so full of yourself."

"I'm–" He faced her. "I am not full of myself."

"You're being melodramatic about a relationship with my sister," she pointed out. "Yes, you've got some rough spots to smooth out and some serious talking left to do, but, seriously, Caius. It's not as bad as you think it is. And this is coming from me. You tried to kill me. Several times!"

He stared at her. "I'm not melodramatic."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "that must've been another Caius talking poetically about Yeul dying over and over. Several times. Yeah. A doppelganger. Must've been."

"I was not–" His shoulders slumped. "Alright, fine."

"Okay. Then you see my point."

"More or less."

"Good. Now, go get some rest. You look exhausted."

Nodding, he glanced at the closed bedroom door, sighed, and headed outside without looking back. The sun had gone down long ago, leaving the world shrouded in darkness and the thick clouds overhead. The sand was packed tight underfoot; he hesitated halfway between the inn and the house to look up at the sky. Between the clouds, he could see the sky, dark blue, with stars twinkling in the firmament.

With one hand over his half of the Heart, he stood there, losing track of time, and gazed up in silent wonder.

From now on, I'll probably update on Fridays or the weekends for the sake of convenience as life gets busier. Thanks for reading!