"Ahhhh," Lightning hissed through clenched teeth as she rolled onto her side. Her entire body throbbed in pain, more so her head than anything else. She lifted her hand to lightly touch her temple and immediately cringed when her fingertips landed on an open cut. She took a hard swallow and touched her head again, but in a different section. She continued to think that all she wanted was for the pain to go away, but no matter how hard she tried her medic powers wouldn't work. She groaned in response.

This was becoming way too similar to the days when she had first turned into a l'Cie and couldn't control her powers. She recalled Fang and Vanille continually telling her that it probably had something to do with stress getting in the way of her concentration, but she thought she had gotten past all of that. She wouldn't exactly go as far as saying that she was totally relaxed as she lay, wholly in pain on the ceiling of an overturned PSICOM vehicle, but she didn't feel wound up to the point where her powers wouldn't even cause her fingers to tingle anymore. Even before she had been forced into the jeep, before her mind had been given enough time to process the deep amount of shit that she was in, her powers had failed to aid her. She didn't think that the stalling of her powers could solely be attributed to stress and angst and stuff like that, but nothing else had changed—

Lightning froze as she felt cold metal lightly rub against the skin of her wrist. Her other hand reached up to play with the bracelet her father had given her earlier. As her fingers ran over the band, she now noticed that the bracelet's clasp had totally disappeared. It was then that it dawned on Lightning. This wasn't a regular piece of jewelry. This was some sort of handcuff.

"Ughhhhh."

Lightning turned her head to face the front of the car and squinted. "Serah?" Despite the immediate pain that shot up her leg and ran through the whole right side of her body, Lightning rolled onto her hands and knees, trying to be careful because the entire inner roof of the car was covered with shattered glass, and slowly inched her way up between the two front seats. "Serah, are you okay?"

"Mmmm," Serah mumbled in reply. Her seatbelt had worked perfectly during the crash and had kept her securely fastened to her seat, which now left her hanging upside down in the overturned jeep. They must have been far from the road that they'd been driving down because there was barely any light in the car for Lightning to see, but even in the dark, she could make out a slight discoloration on Serah's face from where a bruise was beginning to form as well as a bloody cut near her shoulder on the side of her body that had been nearest the window. "I don't think I thought that idea out too well…"

"Oh, you don't?" Lightning spat sarcastically. "What the hell were you thinking? You could've killed us!"

"You need to get out of here," Serah simply muttered. Her hands moved up to her waist to pull at the seat belt buckle, but the there seemed to be little to no effort being put into it. Either she was too hurt or too disoriented.

"I'm not going anywhere with you like this." Lightning reached forward to wrap one hand around Serah's upper body to support her, wincing at the pain that accompanied her stretching out like that, and used her free hand to unbuckle the seatbelt. Serah's body slid down against the seat, steadied by Lightning's arm, until her back was lying against the roof of the car.

"We'll be okay," Serah croaked, although her voice still sounded much weaker than usual. "But you can't be here when dad comes to—"

"Ahh… What… what happ… Serah? Claire?"

Both Lightning and Serah turned to face the opposite side of the car. Just as Serah had been, Colonel Farron was still suspended in his seat by the seatbelt. His head turned up, down, left, and right as he surveyed his surroundings.

"Great," he growled. "This will slow us down for—ahhh!"

"Dad!"

Lightning clambered over to her father's side as the man grimaced. He had been moving his hands up to unbuckle his seatbelt when he had first felt the sharp pain in his side. It was this that brought his and his daughters' attention to the large shard of glass sticking out from his midsection.

Farron clenched his teeth and moved his hands to lightly feel around the sharp object that was stuck so securely into his side. "I—I think we have some alcohol and bandages in the trunk. One of you… get them for me."

"Dad, that's a really big piece of glass," Lightning said doubtfully. Even in the dark, she was now beginning to see the blood that had seeped out of his wound and stained his clothing. "You shouldn't be traveling at all with a wound like that. Does this bracelet have a key? If you can just unlock it, I'd be able to use my abilities and heal—"

"No."

Farron's attention immediately left his wound and was now fiercely aimed at his eldest daughter.

"You will NOT use any of those 'abilities' on me. Go to the trunk and get the bandages."

"Dad, now is not the time to be stubborn!" Lightning argued. "Let me heal you! Let me heal all of us!"

"I. Said. No. I am not giving you a chance to run off looking for that Pulsian so you can wreak havoc with those abominable powers!"

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Lightning asked. "You're always bragging about how well you know me! Then you should know better than to think I'd go—"

"Claire," Serah cut in, placing a hand on her older sister's shoulder. "I'll get the bandages. You should go."

"What?" Farron's eyes widened. He turned to look from one daughter's face to the other. "No. Don't you even think about it."

"There might be a cure," Serah continued. "If you can find Snow and everyone else and get them to it, then this will all be over. None of you will be the l'Cie threat. No one will turn into monsters."

"Claire, you know better than that," Farron countered. "Someone has to get caught. Don't make a foolish decision in some wild goose chase for a happy ending."

Lightning tried to take a deep, calming breath, but there was nothing she could do to make herself feel any better about her situation. "Dad…" She looked to her father, knowing that her tone had already given away her decision.

Farron stilled. "No." His hands shot back up to his waist, causing his body to involuntarily twitch from the pain, to try and unlatch his seat belt. "No! I'm not letting you go!"

"I'm sorry."

Farron tightly clenched his jaw, fighting through the pain, as he continued to try and unlatch his seatbelt. "I will not let them have you," he growled. "Not the Primarch nor that damned fal'Cie! Oomph!"

Pain had burst through Farron's whole side when he finally was able to unhook his seat belt and fall to the roof of the car. Not wasting any time, he rolled over to grab hold of his eldest daughter, but by the time he had gotten onto his hands and knees, she was gone.


"Well, this place ain't too shabby," Rygdea commented with an impressed look on his face when he entered the Estheim family's Palumpolum home. Cavalry soldiers scuttled through the house, checking for the umpteenth time that it was secure, as Fang and Snow stepped through the front door behind their leader. "Did someone find the bathroom yet? See if you can get your hands on a first aid kit for our two friends here!" Rygdea called to no one in particular. Nevertheless, he heard the quick shuffling of boots on the floor as one of the soldiers hurried off to fulfill his request. He couldn't help but grin.

"You're a cadet."

"Hm?" Rygdea turned around to see Fang giving him a hard stare. He was unaware that Fang had been watching him from the moment they left Sazh's garage. Examining him. He had promised them an explanation when he had offered them a ride in his cruiser, but instead of telling them anything, he spent the whole ride issuing orders and talking to other Cavalry members on his radio. "And you're observant," Rygdea answered, not knowing how else to reply to Fang's statement. His eyes fell down to the girl's neck and he fought back a wince. There was a wide, red ring of what looked to burnt skin that circled her neck. It almost looked as bad as the purple bruise that covered the lower part of Snow's face, but not as bad as the boy's shoulder, which looked to be dislocated.

"How do you have so much power if you're a cadet?" Fang asked, crossing her arms. "They follow your orders like you're the Primarch himself."

"Oh! That!" Rygdea smiled a lazy smile and shook his head. "I guess I have you to thank for that, actually."

Fang crinkled her nose at him.

"When news broke that they had discovered the l'Cie identities, we in the Cavalry immediately went to work trying to find y'all before the rest of PSICOM. When my boss heard that I'd made positive contact with you and Vanille before, well hell. Who would be a better person to send to convince you to come with us? So I know it could've been under better circumstances, but I do want to thank you for the promotion."

"The Cavalry…"

Rygdea now turned to look at Snow, who was holding his bad shoulder with one hand and staring at the ground with a look of hard concentration.

"…what exactly is it? Are you PSICOM? Or what? Why help us?"

"I guess you can look at it like this. We're PSICOM but we're not really PSICOM. We're like double agents."

"Traitors?" Fang asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Double agents," Rygdea reiterated. "PSICOM is controlled by the Sanctum, headed by Primarch Dysely. No one votes them in. Members get chosen by other Sanctum members. It's the judge, jury, and executioner for all things going on in Cocoon. Fang, I'm sure you know that better than anyone else here. What they did to your people was awful. There was no consulting anyone when they did it either. They just went to Gran Pulse and did as they pleased, and then came back up and tried to convince everyone that it was all with good intentions. That's what made me join the Cavalry in the first place. I couldn't stand the fact that the Sanctum would make such decisions, call them decisions of Cocoon as if we had anything to do with it, and never have to answer to anybody for it! That's when I realized that it was about time for Cocoon to be given back to the people. And that's what the Cavalry's all about."

"So ya want a democracy," Fang stated, never breaking her stare from Rygdea. "How does that involve knowing me and Vanille?"

"Don't you see?" Rygdea asked, looking from Fang to Snow. "You and Vanille are the two most important people on this planet right now, no offense to you, Big Guy. The War of Transgression between Cocoon and Gran Pulse was the worst war in our history, and even if most of society hates your guts, they take pride in the treaty between our two worlds. It might be the only thing that helps them sleep at night with the way your people have been treated here. Oh, but back to the Sanctum. They hold all the government power, but a government can still be overthrown by its people. So let's just say that maybe the Sanctum wanted to deal with the 'Gran Pulse problem' once and for all, but needed to find a way to do so without breaking the treaty and alarming the people of Cocoon… How would they go about doing that?"

"The Rescue Evacuation Initiative…" Fang breathed.

"Exactly! Attack the Gran Pulsians without really attacking them! Uproot them from their homes. Kill those who resist and blame the deaths on 'toxins in the air'. Place them in substandard living situations where you can keep an eye on them. Don't allow them an equal education or equal freedoms to exercise their own cultural practices. And call the whole thing a rescue initiative so that the people of Cocoon think the Sanctum is doing good when all they're doing is finding an alternative method to killing the problem."

"I knew it…" Fang lifted both of her hands to her head and started pacing. "There never were any toxins in the air on Gran Pulse, were there? I knew it! Gods, I wish Mr. Palmer were here to hear this."

"Well, the toxins won't be any Gran Pulsian's problem now, because now the Sanctum has a better way to convince the people of Cocoon that war and execution are the only answers to dealing with Gran Pulsians. Now they have l'Cie."

"What?" Snow asked just as Fang stopped her pacing.

"Once it breaks that there are Gran Pulsian l'Cie on Cocoon, the public will go wild. They might be the ones to march with fire and pitchforks to the reservations instead of PSICOM. That's where you and Vanille become important. If there are fugitive l'Cie running around, the public goes into a panic and is hard to control. If there are captured l'Cie, then whoever holds the l'Cie holds the public's attention and therefore holds the power. You and Vanille can control whether our worlds go into war again or not, get it? So all we have to do is get a hold of Vanille and find a way to show everyone that you are not the enemies, but Sanctum is. Do you think you'd be willing to work with us on that?"

Fang looked to Snow unsurely, kind of hoping for some unspoken aura of advice to float her way, but Snow just gave her the same muddled expression in response.

"If you can help me get Vanille back," she said, turning back to Rygdea, "then I'll do whatever ya want."

"Hot diggety!" Rygdea whooped, smacking his fist into his palm, "That's the answer I was looking for!"

"But where are we rescuing Vanille from?"

"Uhhh…" Rygdea's jubilant smile then faltered. "You see, that I don't exactly know yet."

"What?! You told me she was safe!"

"She is safe!" Rygdea lifted both hands and took a step back. The bruises of his last encounter with an angry Fang were still too fresh on his skin for him to take any chances. "She's not going to be anywhere as kush as this, but she's not being beaten, tortured, or maimed. As I've said, my boss has a lot of pull. He's been making sure of that."

"Well, I'd like to meet your boss," Fang stated.

"And he'd like to meet you—" BEEP! Rygdea stopped in midsentence when the radio attached to his belt went off.

"And there it goes again…" Fang agitatedly mumbled.

Rygdea turned his back on the l'Cie to quietly converse with whoever was on the line while Fang and Snow stood behind him, shooting each other different extreme expressions in hopes of silently communicating between themselves but failing horribly instead.

"Alright!" Rygdea spun back around just in time to catch Fang shaking her head after giving Snow an exasperated, flared nostril glare. "Men! Clear out! Sorry, Fang. Snow. Duty calls. I would love to take the two of you back to our base to chat with the head haunch, but things are still too hot on the streets right now. I need to make some check-ins and lay down some fake trails before anyone gets too suspicious, but I will be back to pick y'all up. So just to make sure this all goes smoothly, I need you to do two things for me, you hear. One: don't answer any phone calls or knocks on the door. Two: Don't leave this house. For any reason at all. None."

"But what if we get hungr—"

"None!" Rygdea raised his voice as he answered Snow's question. "You can eat when I get you to our base. Now here. Take this." He tossed a headset over to Fang, who curiously turned the gadget around in her fingers. "It's hyper encrypted, so no one should be able to trace it. I'll be calling you on that to get in touch. And one of my men brought the first aid kit into the kitchen. You should probably do something to take care of the those wounds."

Fang nodded and placed the headset in her pocket before starting off down the hall. Snow moved to follow her but was immediately pulled back by Rygdea yanking at the elbow of his good arm. "Not so fast, Hungry George," he said in a low voice. "I need to ask you some questions first."

"Questions?" Snow looked off down the hallway after Fang. Rygdea seemed like a genuine enough person, but he still didn't want to be left answering questions to him alone.

"Don't worry. It's not a test. Just some simple need-to-knows. Like how many are there?"

"How many?"

"L'Cie. How many l'Cie are there?"

"Oh." Snow really wished Fang hadn't left now. She knew Rygdea better than he did. She would know whether or not he could be trusted with this type of information. But he had gotten them out of Bodhum safely… "Uhh, five."

"Holy—five?" Rygdea asked in a harsh whisper. He released a deep breath and bit his lower lip before continuing, "So it's you, Fang, Vanille… Colonel Farron's daughter?"

"Yeah. Lightning. How'd you know that?"

"A report came earlier today saying there was a video on a high school website involving suspicious activity between her and Fang. Apparently, there were already some flags on her record concerning her possible involvement in the fal'Cie disappearance, just as there was one on yours. Problem is, before anyone could look at the video, Colonel Farron had it wiped off the net and had disappeared from his station without signing out. Colonel Farron is way too professional for that kind of behavior, so it raised a definite red flag. They sent a skytank to his house, not with a lot of soldiers in it or anything, just as a big 'you fucked up' type of signal for their arrest, but surprisingly found you and Fang at their house instead. Funny how it all works out, huh?"

"I guess?"

"And let me guess. The last name is Hope Estheim. Whose family owns this house? Is that how y'all got the key to this place?"

"You're good."

"And you're obvious. It's a miracle y'all didn't get caught earlier," Rygdea sighed, shaking his head. "But last question, and this one is the most important. It's about Fang… can she be trusted?"

"What?" Snow's face morphed into one of disbelief. "What kind of question is that?"

"Act surprised all you want, cowboy, but that girl tried to kill you and me both not too long ago, and she almost succeeded too." Rygdea peered down the hallway just to make sure that it was still empty. "Me, I can understand. I walk in with a PSICOM uniform, and I'm the bad guy. But you, you're her friend, aren't you? She had pure crazy eyes like she wanted nothing more than to see your head pop off when I walked into that garage. But now you two are like peas in a pod. That ain't normal."

"Fang's fine," Snow assured.

"Look, I know you two have been through a lot and y'all might feel like y'all owe each other something, but remember what I told y'all? We're trying to stop a war from starting. Fang's going to be the face of peace and cooperation, and she's going to have to be it when she's surrounded by people who don't want either of the two. This thing can't work if she goes off the deep end like that. So I'm gonna ask you again… Can she be trusted?"

Snow felt an immense amount of pressure rest on his shoulders when Rygdea asked the question. He seemed to be knowledgeable enough about l'Cie, but did he know about Ragnarok? He couldn't. He would have never helped Fang if he thought that she would one day destroy Cocoon. He would probably never understand why Snow would continue to help her either, and if he learned now, they might never get Vanille back. "Yeah. Yeah, she can."

Rygdea's eyes narrowed suspiciously. The boy had taken a bit too long to answer, which was enough to plant a small seed of doubt into the cadet's brain. So with that in mind, he lowered his voice even more, leaned in, and asked the question that Snow was praying would not come up. "What are y'all focuses anyway?"

Snow's jaw tightened. He looked to Rygdea with an unperturbed stare. "You said that was the last question. I told you she could be trusted."

"Alrighty then." Rygdea's face and tone instantaneously lightened up. "Sounds fair enough. But best believe, we will be discussing those focuses of yours later. So go on and get yourselves fixed up, but don't get too comfy here. We'll be back before you know it."


Over a day had passed since Rygdea and his Cavalry men had left the Estheim estate.

Fang sat, curled into a tight ball on a living room armchair, blankly staring at the television. Not too far away, Snow was sprawled out, shirtless but heavily bandaged, across the sofa. Neither of them were particularly interested in what was playing on the screen, but neither of them knew what else to do with their time. Their bodies ached for some decent medical attention. Their stomachs rumbled, wishing that there had been more food in the cupboards of the empty house. And most depressingly, they were not allowed to leave the house or make any outbound calls in order to appease the matters. So all they could do was sit around and wait.

Snow looked away from the television to study Fang for a quick moment. Her brows were slightly bent and there was a serious expression set on her face as she stared hard in the TV's direction. While he had been restless for the majority of the past 24 hours, Fang had more or less been the same. She'd sit down and gaze off into nothing with that same stagnant look on her face. Snow was beginning to wonder if waiting was more dangerous than actually leaving the house.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

The heads of both teens swung in the direction of the front door.

"A knock…" Snow murmured. "Do you think it's them? Do you think they're back?"

Fang eyed the door dubiously. "There was no call. He said he'd call."

"He also said he'd be back before we knew it. I mean, who else would knock on the door? PSICOM?"

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Fang slowly sat up in her seat while Snow did the same from his place on the sofa. "It can't be them," she stated. Her shoulders began to tense and the fingers on one of her hands began twitching, almost as if they itched for some sort of spell to be summoned from them. "They definitely would've called. Do ya think someone's onto us?"

"I-I don't know," Snow stammered. He quietly got to his feet and took a few steps back in the direction away from the front door. "We should hide. If we don't answer, they might go away, but just in case, you know."

Fang made a low growling sound as she got to her feet. Her eyes were locked on the door and her body looked poised to fight. She didn't seem to care at all about the bandages that were wrapped around Snow's waist and shoulder or the huge burn mark around her neck.

"Okay. It's decided," Snow stated, marching over to Fang and grabbing her arm. "We'll fight another time. Today, we need to hide."

"What if I don't want to—"

CLICK.

The two teens froze and turned to look back to the door once more. There was no boom. No gunshots. No splintering wood or smoke as all of hell's fury was unleashed into the home. There was just the click of a lock mechanism being undone, followed by the springing open of the front door.

Fang and Snow continued to stand and stare. Surprise had momentarily overtaken any feelings of fear or defiance that they had previously been harboring, and surprise would hit them even more squarely in the jaw when a short head of silver hair rounded from the other side of the door and into the house.

"Hope?" Snow said in slight astonishment.

Hope Estheim stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking wide-eyed from Snow to Fang. "Hey. Wh-what happened to you guys?"

Fang released a heavy breath and ran a hand through her hair. "Holy effin… Gods, Hope! We almost shat ourselves in here thinking you were the po-po!"

"You… uh, what?" Hope asked confusedly.

"Just shut the door and get in here," Fang muttered before once again falling down into her armchair. Hope nodded and closed the door. He joined the older l'Cie in the living room with a somewhat apprehensive look on his face. "What?" Fang asked snippily when she could feel him staring.

"What happened to your neck? And Snow's… body?" Hope looked past Fang's chair and into the hallway to the bedrooms. "Where's Vanille?"

Fang cast a quick glance towards Snow before dragging her eyes back to Hope. "We don't know."

"Oh… I, um… then what do we do?"

"What do we do?" Fang asked, leaning forward on her knees as she talked. "Well, 'we' as in 'me and Snow' are gonna try our hand in politics, apparently. Light is gonna fall off the radar with her family and probably live out the rest of her days somewhere on the other side of Cocoon using some sort of alias like Rose Petals. And you… you're gonna get out of here and go home before you get caught with us."

"What?" Hope's eyes widened as he tried to take in what Fang was saying. "No. That's not fair. I'm not going to leave."

"Yes, you are," Fang replied. The look she was giving Hope somehow managed to be apologetic while at the same time unrelenting. "You saw how things were back in Bodhum. PSICOM doesn't know you're one of us yet. Best to keep it that way. Following us here wasn't a smart move, little guy."

"But I want to help!" Hope argued. "I've been training for this just like the rest of you! And without Light or Vanille, you two need me! I can—"

CLICK.

For the second time, everyone in the room froze and focused their attention on the front door.

"Hope?" A tall, brown haired, bespectacled man wearing a suit appeared in the doorway. His eyes immediately found the youngest l'Cie in the room but quickly looked away to study the two older teens as well. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I dunno. Who are you?" Fang returned, warily eyeing the man herself.

"That's my dad," Hope sighed, stepping forward. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

Mr. Bartholomew Estheim frowned and looked back to his son. "Looking for you, of course. What are you doing? Running off right after a PSICOM raid in our neighborhood and stealing the extra keys to this house? And who are these two? Are you housing squatters?"

"Squatters?" Fang asked, crossing her arms and lifting and eyebrow.

Bartholomew just gave her an annoyed look before focusing back on his son. "I hope this little escapade was worth it, because you're grounded until the silver in your head is unmistakable as gray. As for the two of you, I want you out of my house before I'm forced to call the GC. There's a homeless shelter about a mile away from here if you need a place to stay."

"We're not homeless," Snow said in a quiet voice.

"They're not homeless," Hope repeated. "They're my friends. From school."

Bartholomew's brows lifted in surprise. He turned to examine Fang and Snow again. The corner of his mouth dipped down into a look of great displeasure. He apparently was not happy that his prodigy of a son was friends with older, rougher looking kids who would assist him in running away from home. "Friends or not, I'm calling the GC if they don't get out of my house. And tomorrow, I'll be calling the principal of your high school as well."

"Dad, you can't," Hope blurted. He moved forward to stand in front of his father. "This is the safest place for them to be, and you can't tell anyone that they're here."

"Why not? Are they in some kind of trouble?" Bartholomew lowered his voice before asking Hope the next question. "Are they forcing you to do something for them?"

"No, Dad!" Hope's voice was getting exasperated. "It's because we're all l'Cie!"

Fang and Snow's jaws dropped. Bartholomew's face clouded with a sort of confused and mystified expression. Fang didn't know much about Bartholomew Estheim, but she knew the basics. He worked for the Sanctum. What he actually did, she had no idea. She wasn't even sure how informed he would be of l'Cie presence with his position. But from the look on his face, she could tell one thing: he knew enough.

"That isn't funny, Hope."

"It's not a joke." Hope lifted an arm and pulled down one of his gloves to reveal his l'Cie brand, fully spouted with arrows and turning red in the middle. "We were changed when I went on that field trip to the Vestige. PSICOM found out, and now they're on the run. I might be on the run soon, too, but we need the house. At least for a little while."

Bartholomew just gaped at his son, sometimes switching his gaze to Fang or Snow. "You're all l'Cie?" he quietly asked.

All the teenagers nodded.

"And PSICOM knows?"

The teenagers nodded again.

Bartholomew sighed, a defeated look on his face. "Then that doesn't leave me a lot of options, does it?" he asked. "Everyone can stay here for the night, but we need to figure out a plan for how things will be from here on out. I'll try to get a hold of some of the workers in the criminal division—"

KNOCK! KNOCK!

All eyes went to the door.

"Are you expecting anybody?" Bartholomew asked in a low voice.

"Uhh, kinda. But they said they'd call first," Snow answered.

"Okay. All of you get out of sight into one of the back rooms. I'll handle this." Bartholomew waited for the kids to hurry to the back of the house before taking a deep breath and reaching for the doorknob. He pulled back the door and stared, his breath still caught in his throat, at the unexpected guest on his doorstep. "Hello?" he asked unsurely.

Standing in front of him was a girl who he recognized as one of the neighborhood teenagers, solely because he was a good acquaintance of her father. Her pink hair was disheveled and a long, bloody cut was drawn across her left temple. From the look in her eyes, he could tell that she was just as surprised to see him as he was to see her, and although she kept a strong, unmoved expression, Bartholomew could tell a frazzled child when he saw one. What was she doing so far outside of Bodhum and why was she so beaten up? "Colonel Farron's daughter?" he asked.

The girl opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a call from behind Bartholomew.

"Light?"

Without thinking twice on the matter, the girl pushed past Bartholomew and marched straight into the house. She didn't break stride until she was buried in the arms of Fang, who had moved from the back of the house and was now standing in the middle of the living room.

"Can someone please explain to me what's going on?" Bartholomew asked, closing the door.

Fang held Lightning for just a second more before moving her hands up to cup her face and bringing their lips together in a kiss.

"Ohhh…" Bartholomew's voice dropped from behind them.

Fang kept her hands on Lightning's face as she pulled away. "What are you doing here?" she breathed.

"I thought they caught you," Lightning murmured back. "I was heading for Eden."

"So she's a l'Cie too?" Bartholomew could be heard asking Hope, who had emerged with Snow from the back of the house.

"What happened to you?" Fang asked. She tilted Lightning's head to the side to get a better look at her cut.

"I could ask you the same thing," Lightning replied, her eyes catching on Fang's neck. Without thinking, she lifted her hand so that her fingertips lightly rested below Fang's jaw. When nothing happened, she sighed. "My powers won't work. My dad gave me this bracelet that somehow cuts them off. Hope, would you mind?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah."

Lightning backed a few steps away so that Hope could take her place in front of Fang. The boy reached up to touch near the base of Fang's neck and waited while a green glow surrounded her burns. Bartholomew just watched in astonishment from across the room. When he was done, Hope moved on to Lightning. Snow, who seemed to have much worse injuries than the two girls, asked if he could lie down in one of the back bedrooms while Hope worked on him. Meanwhile, Bartholomew began searching his work contacts for someone who he could mine for information while Fang and Lightning returned to the room with the television to recap each other on everything that had recently happened to them.


Later that evening, Lightning quietly entered Snow's guestroom. Even though Hope had spent a good while healing him, the boy still looked half-mummy from all of the bandages wrapped around him.

Snow shifted himself so that he was sitting up in his bed while Lightning leaned against the wall. She didn't really know where to start, but she knew there were certain things that she wanted to say to him, so she decided to just take the blunt approach. "I know you were hiding in Serah's room when the skytank showed."

"What?" Snow's face grew alarmed and he backed his butt up against the bed's headboard so that he was sitting up even straighter. "Light, I can explain. Me and Serah were just hanging—"

"Thank you," Lightning said, cutting Snow off in mid-explanation. Snow's mouth gaped open for a quick second before he cautiously scooted further away from Lightning on the bed, not sure of what to expect. "Look, I can't say that I like that you were hiding out in Serah's room, but I do know that you helped Fang get out of there safely. So I just wanted you to know… thanks."

"I, uh, no problem."

Lightning nodded to herself before walking over to take a seat on a footrest near the side of Snow's bed. "I left her," she said, solemnly looking down at her hands. "We were driving somewhere, our car crashed, we were flipped over on the side of the road, and I left her. She kept telling me to go, but I can't help but think I made a mistake leaving her."

"Hmm," Snow hummed to himself. "I worry about her too… but Serah is a smart girl. And she's much tougher than she looks. She'll be okay. If nothing else, your dad will probably make sure of that since his other daughter has gone to the dark side."

"Was this talk meant to be encouraging?" Lightning asked.

Snow's face lightened a bit from the watchdog stare he had been giving Lightning a moment ago, almost to the point where a smile was about to peek through. "So since it's established that Serah will be just fine and my presence at your house is a positive, I guess when this is all over, it'd be okay if I used the front door to visit?"

"You wish," Lightning scoffed. "You'll be lucky if I don't install electric bars over Serah's windows."

"Heh," Snow chuckled. "It was worth a try." He watched as the faint markings of a smile quickly flashed across Lightning's face before totally disappearing. His own smile started to shrink as he thought of something important that he wanted to say to Lightning as well. "I'm worried about Fang."

Lightning sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "Who isn't?" she breathed.

"No, I mean—that dude, Rygdea, who got us out of Bodhum? He pulled me to the side and started grilling me on if Fang could be trusted or not. I told him yes and all, but I don't know. I'm kinda wondering if that was the wrong answer."

Lightning tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "You don't think Fang can be trusted?"

"Well, yeah but no. Not when she gets out of control. Do you know how I got this beat up in the first place?"

Lightning slowly shook her head, although the look on her face was that of sad realization.

"She was going to kill me, Lightning," Snow said. "If Rygdea hadn't showed up, I'm pretty sure of it. And I know she, Fang, wouldn't really want to hurt me, but if you saw her right then and there, you'd understand. Just looking at her face, it was like looking at a totally different person. I don't trust whatever it was I was looking at. And if this whole Cavalry ride brings us to Eden, how will we know she won't turn into that thing from the smoke?"

"She needs Vanille to turn."

"Are you sure?" Snow asked. "Because she can get pretty nasty without her."

Lightning looked down to the floor and shook her head. Everything had been happening so fast and she had been so worried about PSICOM that she hadn't stopped to think about the Ragnarok threat. "Then what would you suggest we do?"

"I'm not sure. Ask Rygdea to find somewhere safe for her to stay while we go off and do the heavy lifting?"

"No, he'd want an explanation," Lightning replied rubbing her chin. "Besides, she'd never sit back while everyone else was out trying to save Vanille."

"Then what do we do?"

"Keep her calm and level headed. It sounds as if strong emotions are what triggers her: anger, sadness, fear, guilt… We just need to keep her happy."

"Sounds like a tall order considering everything that's already happened," Snow said, slowly sliding back down so that he was lying flat on his back against the mattress.

"Well, we don't have much of a choice," Lightning mumbled in reply. "But you should get some rest. You'll need it for when Rygdea finally shows up again."

"Aye, aye, captain," Snow could be heard saying as Lightning left the room and closed the door behind her.

She walked straight to the guestroom that Bartholomew had assigned her and froze in the doorway on seeing Fang sitting at the edge of her bed. "Hey," she softly greeted, taking her first few steps into the bedroom. "Need something?"

"Umm, no. Not really," Fang said hesitantly, bringing the corner of her lips up in a forced smile. "It's just, I was wondering if ya minded if I kinda stayed in here with you tonight."

"Oh."

"It's just that I usually sleep with Vanille, and now that she's gone all I can think about at night is where she is or if she's hurt or if she's alone—"

"Fang, it's okay," Lightning consoled, walking over to the edge of the bed. "Mr. Estheim might freak if he found out, but I don't mind. C'mon." Lightning climbed onto the bed and motioned for Fang to follow her.

Once she had snuggled under the covers, Lightning rolled around to face Fang and felt an immediate sense of satisfaction on feeling the other girl's hands grip her waist to drag her body closer. Fang's legs slithered in between Light's to weave the four limbs together as her arms ran up her back to hold the pinkette a warm hug.

"So this is how you and Vanille slept together?" Lightning murmured jokingly.

Fang slightly pulling away to study Light's face. "Are you getting jealous of Vanille again?"

Lightning lightly snorted and pulled Fang back to her. Her cheeks slightly heated up in embarrassment at Fang's reference to her drunken 'night of shame'. "Don't be so cocky."

Fang's chest lightly bounced in an airy chuckle. "Vanille is more of a champion world wrestler sleeper. She finds ya and puts ya into a submission hold. Very dangerous. I only kept her around because the monster under our bed was so scared of being put in a chokehold." The light smile that had been on Fang's face slowly faded as she thought more about it. "She's capable of handling herself, I know that. But I still can't help but worry about her, ya know."

Lightning tilted her chin up to get a better look at Fang's face and those sad, green eyes. "We'll get her back," she promised. "If I can get away from my father, I'm sure we can break Vanille out of any prison."

"Why did you come back, anyway?" Fang asked, looking at Light. "Ya would've been much safer with your dad."

Lightning looked into Fang's eyes and thought for a moment before giving an answer. "I knew you'd be much safer with me."

"Ha." An amused smile broke free on Fang's face. "Look who's cocky now," she rumbled in a low voice, pulling Lightning closer. "Goodnight, Lightwinkle."

"Night, Fang," Lightning replied. She lightly smiled as Fang cuddled closer to her. Something about this… something about Fang's arms being wrapped around her and the two of them just being together… felt right. When things felt like they were so meant to be, everything just had to work out for the best, right? Lightning released a deep breath and nuzzled her head more against Fang's chest, secretly wondering if they were all foolish for getting so attached.


"Let me out!"

Two loud bangs against the metallic door.

"I said let me out! I want to see my son!" Sazh Katroy gave the door two more loud bangs. "Please!" he called, resting his forehead against the cool metal. "At least let me know he's okay…"

From the corner of their shared cell in the hold of the PSICOM airship, Vanille lifted her head to apologetically gaze at the older man who had yet to stop banging on the door since they had been thrown in there. "Maybe you should rest. If you keep at it like that, you might hurt yourself."

Sazh's head spun around to give her a threatening glare. "Oh no, you don't," he growled, pointing a shaky finger in her direction. "Don't you go trying to help after what you did. A l'Cie, Vanille? A l'Cie?!"

"I'm sorry…"

"Sorry doesn't help me!" Sazh exclaimed. "Sorry's not gonna make them give Dahj back! So I don't wanna hear it!"

"O-okay," Vanille sniffled.

"Hey. Don't—don't do that." Sazh said, turning around and shaking his head. "Stop, okay. Just… ahhh. Capturing and imprisoning kids… it just ain't right. Scoot over."

Vanille took in another big sniffle before scooting to the side, allowing Sazh some room to squeeze in on the bench next her.

"You know you could've told me, right?" he asked, leaning forward on his knees. When Vanille didn't answer, he just sighed and continued. "I always wanted a big family when I first got married. I'd tell my wife that we were gonna have five kids, and she'd tell me that if men started getting pregnant, then that would be just fine with her. Funny thing is, when you, Fang, and Dane started snooping around my shop those years ago, she was the one who told me to start letting you in. 'Give them something to eat,' she'd say. Or 'let them play in that broken down car'. I think she was really testing me to see if I was good father material or not. I don't think I ever expected to get as attached to you all as I did. And you'd think that I'd have better 'dad skills' by now cause of it."

"I think you're a good dad," Vanille said softly.

"Yeah, well that makes one," Sazh grumbled. "If we ever make it out of here, there are definitely some things I'd do differently." He paused to critically eye Vanille for a moment. "Since you're a l'Cie, shouldn't you have some special powers or something? Can't you like shoot lasers out of your hands and bust us out of here?"

Vanille lifted her hand to show him a silver cuff that had been wrapped around her wrist. "Not anymore."

"Hmm," Sazh said, studying the metal. He poked at it with his fingers before grinning. "Well that wasn't smart of them."

"Huh?"

"The metal that they used is a really soft one. It can be easily broken. They probably used the material because it's a good conductor of whatever is in there stopping your powers, but the metal itself can easily be worn away. Here." He took her wrist and forcefully ground the bracelet against the sharp edge of the bench. "Look at the scratch it made it. Think of what would happen if we had something sharper."

"Do we have something sharper?" Vanille asked, her eyes widening in fascination.

Sazh looked around, surveying their cell, then shook his head. "No, but there is one thing we might have. Time to figure it out. Do you want to get out of this cell and save Dahj?"

"Yeah."

"Then I have a plan. And if she's been getting herself into as much trouble as she usually does, we might be able to save Fang, too."

"Yayyy!"


A/N: Hey, y'all. I know... slow update followed by a slow chapter. But I plan on putting in some overtime to update quicker so y'all don't have to wait a lifetime for the ending. As always, thanks for the feedback! Y'all are awesome. And Tablethrower. Dude. YOUR LEG. Hope it's getting better.