34 Outbreak

Snow hadn't been able to accompany his wife to the hospital. He hadn't had a chance to fully absorb what she had told him. He hadn't been able to ignore or destroy the fear that tangled his stomach into knots every time he thought of what she had said. All that echoed in his mind between his arrival at the capitol and the eventual point at which he would join an emergency meeting between the Cocoon half of the government and the Pulse half was the reminder that Serah had already seen visions and had some of her life sapped from her. All he could think about was that he had no idea just how many more would have killed her.

"Just some abnormalities," he remembered her telling him. "They'll give me all the details when I get there." She had said it so calmly that he'd been struck dumb. Something was wrong with her. Even if he couldn't figure out what, he sensed it in her voice. Even she was worried, though she didn't tell him directly. She'd told him she was going to the hospital to be put under observation. Before he'd gotten the chance to say anything more, he had been called away, and she had bid him goodbye and hung up.

Here he was, half a mile from the hospital and stuck in a designated waiting room with a guard at each entrance and exit and a security camera in the center of the ceiling, unable to sit still. He paced sometimes, and when he wasn't pacing, he sat in one of the chairs and constantly shifted his weight. The room stifled him; the air felt far too warm.

Snow felt his patience wearing thin.

It seemed like hours before he was finally called into the room with the others. It was a small conference room, air conditioned and well-lit. The table in the center had the seal of the government engraved on it, the stylized symbol of the crystallized Cocoon painted in white, a sheet of glass placed over it all. The representatives clustered around this table, the Cocoon half at one end and the Pulse half at the other end. Snow thought this split was part of the problem – treated as two separate entities, the two halves could never truly reconcile, as they saw themselves as two unique and independent factions.

"Must we wait?" Senna spoke up, loud and clear, her voice cutting through the bustle with ease. Everyone shut up right away, and Snow, for all his frustration, briefly admired her. "The matter at hand is far too important to let slip, nor to stall any longer for. These are matters for our home and the rest of our lives. They will affect our descendants until the end of days." She scanned the table before her eyes fell to Snow. He noticed for the first time that they were dark hazel in color. "This is the matter of Cocoon remaining upright, however it can be done."

Rygdea growled before saying, "Really, again? We've been over this!"

"Not satisfactorily!" Marsh retorted.

"Please," Senna said, waving a hand and rising to her feet. "Cocoon is our home. We have run simulations, and we know its fall would be catastrophic to the area. We have to–"

Hope was one of those present, and Snow saw his expression change into a look of anger he hadn't seen since his outburst at Palumpolum. "That's what the metashield is for."

"It would allow our home to fall, whether it avoids the catastrophic effects or not. People have called the place their home for many centuries and refuse to leave even now." Her eyes narrowed a little and flared with determination and annoyance. "Listen to me, young Estheim. What you're proposing with your 'metashield' is letting our home die. That's not acceptable."

Hope practically sprang to his feet. "Then evacuate, like we've been trying–"

Bartholomew grabbed his arm. "That's enough." When the teen sat down again, narrowly controlling his expression of vitriol, the man looked at Senna carefully. "He has a point, though. We've been trying to get you to evacuate down to this place for going on four years. There's plenty of room. The planet is huge, Senna, and we've only seen a small part of it. There's mountains, forests, islands, anything you could want. I know Cocoon is important, but you have to consider all the options."

Snow could tell, right away, that she had already dismissed his argument long before this meeting began. "That's not acceptable, Estheim," she said firmly. "We can find Pulse fal'Cie to use. We could even build our own. We could use technology to levitate our home. The one thing we won't do is let it die."

Snow couldn't take it anymore. "Senna, you're a fool," he said. "Believe me, I know it hurts, but you have to get this through your head. Anything other than letting it fall could be a disaster. You want to drag the fal'Cie back into this? Look at what they did to us before! They'd try to destroy us again! Building a fal'Cie? That's ignorant! As for using technology, we haven't got what we need, and we might not ever!"

Thoughts of the corrupted timeline, the paradoxical ones he had seen of war and death, the glimpse of the end of the world he had seen once or twice, rolled around in his head without end. The technology needed to levitate Cocoon existed in the form of graviton cores, but without the broken timeline to scatter them and no gates to go after them, he wasn't sure they could even be found at all. The Thirteenth Ark hadn't been discovered, far as he knew, which was where those cores had come from. There was really only one option left.

"Snow Villiers," she said, "listen to me. You are suggesting that we allow our home to collapse. You suggest that we let our world die. You suggest that we use young Etheim's idea in the hopes that it might work. I don't want to take that chance. We can't take that chance. Now, all of you, either authorize us to at least attempt to exhaust other means to keep our world afloat, or we'll do it anyway."

Snow stood and planted both fists on the table. "I understand, alright? I get that you don't want to gamble all our lives on this metashield idea. You want to try everything else first. You have got to understand, though, if you try anything else, you might break the pillar."

"We're not giving you authorization, Senna, and that's final," Rygdea said.

The room fell deathly silent. Snow sensed a bristling calm before the outbreak of a storm, as if he stood on the shore of the sea while the sun shone overhead, and on the horizon, a storm thrashed the water. He saw the woman's eyes gazing at each of them in turn, but beneath the determination, there was sadness, and reluctance. Seeing it hurt his heart a little. She didn't want this, he realized. Had she done it because she'd believed, or been led to believe, it was for the greater good? Did he have a right to be so angry?

Was she really all that different from any of them, working so hard to keep their home safe?

"Then we will go our own way," she said.

Snow winced and said, "Senna, be reasonable. You can't just go–"

"There's no reason to believe we won't accomplish our goals," was her response. "There's no reason to suspect we can't do this. We're going to try."

"We'll stop you," Rygdea said.

"You stop us, or interfere, and we'll consider it an act of aggression."

Something wrapped tight around Snow's heart and clenched it very, very hard. No one else in the room so much as breathed. Senna sat back down, and that was the end of it. No more discussion about her dire words went on. No one dared challenge what she had said. And maybe that was fine. Maybe it was about time each side had a little more autonomy. Maybe it was time each side made their own decisions and selected their next course of action based on what they saw most fit for their future.

And yet, despite all of that reasoning, he felt his insides begin to shiver.

When the meeting adjourned, Snow didn't leave right away. Instead, he remained seated, waiting as the others filed out, muttering to themselves and each other. Senna remained behind as well, standing, but she focused her attention on a folder, flipping through it and shuffling papers around. Every few moments, she stopped to examine one of them, only to ultimately stuff it into one of the stacks. Her attention remained solely on her task.

Then, she surprised him, saying, "Why are you still here?"

He leaned back and settled an arm on the back of his chair. "Guess I was hopin' I could keep trying."

"Don't bother. My mind has been made up."

"You're the president of the Cocoon half of the government, right?"

"This, you already know." She stopped messing with the papers and leaned on the table. "I don't care what you and the rest of the Pulse government have to say. It's not important to me. What's important is keeping our home safe, and I'm sorry I had to go to such dire measures to do it. Look, if all goes well, it won't come to war, and I want to keep it that way. Please understand, Villiers."

He lifted an eyebrow. "My name is Snow. Call me by my name, please."

Her hazel eyes were cold, but they softened for a moment. "Alright… Snow. I'll call you that from now on, but it changes nothing." She closed the folder and hooked it under one arm.

He rose to his feet. "I'll see what I can do to keep my half calm, but no guarantees."

"All we want is a safe home, and we'll do whatever it takes to protect it." For just a moment, the hardness of her face went away. "Wouldn't you do the same?"

Reluctantly, he nodded. "Yeah, and probably to my detriment if I'm not careful. Speaking of keeping my home safe, I've gotta go see my wife before I go back home tonight."

Senna raised an eyebrow. "Is she here?"

"She's at the hospital under observation." He nodded to her and started out.

"Ah, I see. Well, I won't pry, but I hope she is doing well. The last thing anyone needs is their family falling apart when the whole world seems to have gone crazy." When he glanced back, it was in time to see her give him a nod before she started after him. He looked away before frowning, opening the door back out into the lobby.

Only one person was still there, and it was Hope.

"You were a while," he said softly, and glanced at Senna as she passed them. Once she'd left the room, Hope said, "So, tell me, did you get any further along?"

Snow grunted. "No," he muttered. "Between this and Shadowtown–"

"What about Shadowtown?"

"It's still under some scrutiny despite its convenient autonomy," Snow said. "No, I didn't get any further along. She wants to be stubborn. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go see Serah before I head home." He started off, eager to see his dear wife, but Hope stopped him with one hand. He knew he could free himself without any trouble – the boy was shaping up to be a willowy adult, unlike Snow's compact musculature – but didn't have enough of a mean streak, or really, the energy, to do so today.

"If Shadowtown's going to be a problem, then I need to know. My father wants me to take over when he's done with his job."

"Hope, all you need to know is that there's spies in Cocoon, an iffy situation in Shadowtown, problems with Senna and the Cocoon half of the government, and that my wife's under observation at the hospital. Sorry if most of that wasn't brought up to you already. Excuse me."

Snow freed himself with a quick jerk of the arm and left the building, having to go to the ground floor and walk to the hospital. Called the Academia Memorial Hospital, constructed and dedicated in remembrance of those who had fallen for the sake of Cocoon, the building was about ninety percent finished, with a four-story main building and ten-story patient tower overlooking the city center.

The entrance he walked through led to a lobby with plenty of warm colors and comfortable chairs. He checked in at the front desk, pinned a "visitor" badge to his uniform, and took the elevator to the fourth floor on the west side, where the obstetrics and mother-baby departments were located. As the elevator rose, he checked the notes given to him at the front desk and saw that his wife had been taken to room 418.

He stepped off the elevator, made a small circle in the wrong direction, doubled back, and finally found her room. "Hey, sweetie," he said as he slipped through the slightly-open door and into the moderately-lit, warm-colored interior. Serah lay on a bed that let her look out the picture window at the cityscape and the sun as it moved toward the horizon. She lifted her eyes from the view the moment she heard his voice and smiled brightly.

"Hey," she said, and sat up with some awkwardness, arms open. He filled the space they formed, letting her drop her head on his shoulder. "You didn't have to come, you know."

"You're my wife, and I was worried." He pulled the chair beside the bed closer and sat on it. "It's very nice here."

"Oh, yes, it's wonderful. The nurses are fantastic."

Snow smiled and rubbed a hand on her belly. "I know this little one'll be taken care of," he said. Looking carefully at her, he let his smile fade. "Now, I'm only gonna ask this once, and I know you'll be reluctant to tell me, but I need to know the truth. What abnormalities, and can they get to be something really bad?"

Her smile faded, as well. "Snow, I asked you not to worry."

"Answer me, Serah, please."

Her hand found his, their fingers now entwining. "My glucose levels were a little low, and a few other things were either a bit too high or a bit too low. My body seemed like it was getting tired of supporting the baby, so they have me here in case they need to do something for the birth to go well, or if something happens early."

"Like a few-days-premature delivery?"

"Something like that."

Snow looked at her belly again. "And the baby himself?"

"In absolutely perfect health, and so far looking to arrive on schedule." One of her hands touched his cheek, the skin so very and wonderfully soft against his. He raised a hand to hers and held it tightly, closing his eyes. The thought of losing her gnawed at his heart like an aching worry he couldn't get rid of entirely. He had come too far, fought too many battles, gone through far too much, to ever lose her. No, she had to be alright, to help support their family and keep it intact and sane and safe. They'd built the future, and she had to be here to see it. The fear would be alleviated after the birth, he knew. Maybe it was just pre-birth fatherly jitters.

"How many more visions could you have handled?"

He heard her scoff quietly. Obviously, he'd caught her off guard. "I'm sorry, what?"

He repeated the question.

"I don't know," she said, stroking her thumb across his cheek. "Don't worry, I haven't been seeing any since the timeline calmed down. Either I'm immune now, or everything's proceeding exactly the way it should. Besides, that shouldn't matter. I'm here now. Focus on the future we've built together."

"I can't ever lose you." The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. "I just can't. I love you so much, Serah, that I could never… I couldn't move on if I lost you."

"Stop that." She grabbed his chin, and he opened his eyes again. "Don't you dare say things like that. How old are you, Snow? Twenty-two? What, you're so old that, even if you did lose me, you'd be unable to find anyone else or ever love again? That's the most fatalistic attitude I've heard out of you yet!" Her voice turned sharp and hard as she went on. "Hypothetically, if I died, you must go on."

"Without you?" He couldn't fathom the thought. "You are half of who I am, half of my soul, my existence. If I lost you, I wouldn't know what to do."

"You'd mourn, accept my passing, and move on," she said simply – too simply, he thought. "You have a big heart, my love, and you'd love again. I'd want you to. Besides, you shouldn't even think of such things. I'm not going to die, Snow, I'm healthy enough otherwise." Her smile returned. "You're just freaked out because you'll be a first-time father. Once the little one's here, you'll be normal again."

His hand tightened further around hers. "There's so much going on that I'm not sure if I could be normal again."

She rolled her eyes. "If you came here to be all cynical, then go home."

Hearing her say those words seemed to snap him out of some nightmare trance he'd locked himself into. "No, I'm sorry, sweetheart, I just…" Groaning, he squeezed her other hand with his free one. "You're right, I'm jittery because of the baby. Guess I shouldn't be. It'll be his birthday, and then, soon after, we have Lightning's. It's a time of celebration, isn't it?" Smiling again, he kissed her knuckles. "I'll be fine."

Her smile was radiant. "I know. You always are."

Lightning finished up her shower while wondering if it was best she showered in the evening instead of in the morning, which would cut her water usage in half and give her more time to wake up. Toweling off and slipping into her nightclothes, she ran her fingers through her hair before pausing, feeling a familiar presence just outside in the living room. He was out there. Usually, he walked her home and called it a night, but tonight it seemed he wanted to linger. Did he want to see her?

Between that day's lunch and now, while they had spoken, they had also been too busy to spend time together. Senna's declaration of autonomy and warning against Pulsian interference had set every branch of the military on high alert. Her sister was in Academia, kept under careful observation, due to abnormal medical results, and between those two realities, she found herself more stressed than ever. Not being able to see her frustrated her, and not being brave enough to ask for Caius's affection only made it worse.

Walking into the living room, she saw Caius sitting on the couch, gazing at her, not moving. His expression was serious.

"I apologize for being here, Claire," he said, "but I would not be able to sleep otherwise."

Claire. He hadn't told her his real name just yet, but that didn't bother her, as it had probably merely slipped his mind. "That's very sweet of you," she said. Walking up to him, she stopped about three feet away and placed her hands on her hips. "Do you know how special it is for you to know my real name? It's pretty significant."

"Is it?" Curiosity surged through him. "Why is that?"

She smiled a little. "Because the last time anyone called me 'Claire' on a regular basis was shortly after Mom died." Hesitating, she chewed her lip a moment. "After that, I had to be strong, for everyone, so I denied the part of myself that was weak and surged onward as a whole new person, as 'Lightning', instead. But now, you–" Lifting a hand, she reached for him. "Calling me that reminds me of being who I really am," she said, very quietly.

His brow furrowed. "I apologize, Light."

"Don't," she said firmly. "It's just you. You're the only one who knows my real name besides Serah and the other l'Cie, and even they probably forgot they knew it. That means you're the only one who can know that part of me." Her hand still hovered in midair; he took it, and she flooded with warmth at his touch. It still amazed her, how this incredibly destructive warrior of Valhalla could be so kind to her. "Why can't you sleep?"

His eyes met hers. Longing surged into her heart, but she had no idea whether it belonged to him, or her. "I want to be sure you're alright."

"Of course I am." She squeezed his hand. "I'm always alright. Besides, you can reach me anytime you need to."

"I have to know, with my own eyes, before I can sleep."

She moved closer. "Why?"

Silence fell over them like a blanket for a few heartbeats before he said, "Does it matter?"

She frowned. "It does. It matters because you've come to see me before this late, and even later, several times before. Remember when you were here at, what, midnight a few months back? All you wanted to do is talk to me. Come on, you wouldn't come here if it were nothing."

His eyes fixed on hers.

"Because I am afraid of losing you, and if I ever did–" His eyes seemed to darken, lines of his face hardening, mouth tightening, words coming out in a rush. "That would be the breaking point for me. I know it is unlikely, but I always have a terror of…" His voice cracked; he cleared his throat. "I will not lose you as I did Yeul, I know, but part of me still feels as though I must make sure before I sleep."

Hearing him say those words collapsed what was left of the walls standing in the way. There wasn't a point to hiding from him, she realized. That wasn't what he needed. What he needed was reassurance, not her terror of who she was, not her fear of what he was now, not a constant refusal to be open to him, as he– as they, herself included, so desperately wanted, and needed.

Releasing his hand, she wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him against her, one hand in his hair. He lowered his head to press his forehead to hers, both arms encircling her waist. They were alone. Snow would be late coming home. Serah wasn't here. And she knew beyond all doubt that he loved her.

"You know what," she muttered, "I'm afraid of being that weak girl again. In exchange for being strong, I had to let go of a lot what made me, me, and that meant, uh…" She stroked her fingers through his hair. It felt silky. "I thought being affectionate was weakness, but when I was in Valhalla, my love for those I left behind kept me strong."

"It can lead to weakness, Light."

"Passion can, but love itself?" She snorted, then sighed, tugging gently on his hair. "I've been resisting. Maybe I've been trying to protect myself, or something, but I'm done resisting."

"Resisting what?"

She hesitated, then grabbed his hand and led him to the couch. They sat, and stared at each other. She let go of his hand, but only so she could move closer and cup his face in hers, looking him right in the eye.

"Falling for you," she mumbled.

Confusion touched her heart. "I see. But, if I may, why resist?"

Her thumbs brushed over his skin. "I've been for a while," she admitted. "After fighting in Valhalla for so long, I considered you my enemy, so letting myself go wasn't in the cards, far as I was concerned. But…" She hesitated, then pulled his face closer to hers and pressed her forehead to his, sighing. "I really don't feel like playing these stupid games anymore. It sure looks to me like you don't need me to fail you right now. And you know what else?"

His breath whisked across her skin, raising goosebumps on it. "Yes?"

"Can you just… hold me for a minute?"

There was only a moment of hesitation from him – the briefest of moments, a stretch of time that really didn't matter that much in the grand scheme of things – before she felt him embrace her. The thing was, he didn't just embrace her – he wrapped both arms around her torso, pulling her body close to his, partway onto his lap. There was a hand in her hair and one on her spine, as if he were trying to embrace every inch of her at once.

In that moment, she let herself go completely, body relaxing, sinking into him, letting his arms and his body become her whole world.

The woman she had been wouldn't do this. She would have never been this weak. In the days before the last battle for Cocoon, getting this close to a man was unthinkable. Even hugging Hope had been a milestone for her, minor as it had been. That didn't matter now. She didn't care. He had changed out of his tribal clothing into a silky black shirt that she gripped with both hands and buried her face in. It didn't matter to her that she was falling apart into him, that he saw her weak and helpless, that she poured all her fears and doubts and resistance into his chest, where the fabric turned damp and warm against her skin.

He settled back into the couch, holding her close. Even if this only lasted as long as it took for them to gather their strength again, their walls were down, leaving only this.

Clamping down on her emotions, she lifted her head and looked right at him. "I love you."

He didn't seem to know what to say in response as his arms tightened around her. Though his lips moved, he said nothing; she let her head drop back to his shoulder and closed her eyes.

She had no idea how long they had been sitting there. In all honesty, she didn't care. The little girl inside sure didn't care, having gone dead and dormant for years, only for his touch to ignite a fire that gave her new life and made her spring up from some dark place in her heart. She felt his emotions touching hers, further solidifying their bond. The connection wasn't complete. Doing so would take something they hadn't yet done. What they had, though, was good enough, strong enough, that she wasn't afraid at all of what he might see.

It was only when she abruptly jerked awake and lifted her head that she realized she'd dozed off.

"Sit up," Caius murmured.

Lightning quickly blinked the sleep out of her eyes and looked around the room as she did. She saw a familiar shape topped with blond hair, standing between her and the front entrance. The door had been slid shut, a few more lights turned on to provide additional illumination. It was Snow, looking groggy, but serious – more serious than she had seen out of him in a very long time.

"Snow?" she said, shaking her head. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

She was still partway on Caius's lap, his right arm still around her waist. When she glanced at him, she saw a serious look in his eyes that easily echoed Snow's, and it was this, combined with the muted emotion she sensed, that made her warrior instincts kick in right away. Sitting up straighter, she fixed her eyes on Snow's, feeling Caius tighten his grip on her waist – rather protectively, she realized.

Reluctantly, she eased herself out of his grip and gave their bodies some space. She didn't feel comfortable being even a little affectionate with someone watching, even if it was just Snow.

"Everything," Snow mumbled. "Just… everything. Seems like the whole world's fallin' apart at the seams."

"Can you tell us anything more?" Caius said.

Snow glanced at him. "Shadowtown's iffy, Senna's ultimatum's still rolling around in my head, the government isn't cooperating as well as we'd hoped, and my wife's in the hospital because her numbers were a little abnormal." His shoulders slouched. "That enough for you?"

Lightning froze. "Serah's in the hospital? Is she alright? Snow, she better be fine."

"She's under observation until she goes into labor just in case. Otherwise, she seems to be okay. Look, I don't know much more than that, okay?" Sighing, Snow shook his head. "Mind if I leave?"

"No one said you could not," Caius said.

Lightning glanced at him, thinking he spoke a little too sharply.

Snow glanced between them. "You two decided to start cuddling now, huh?"

She felt her cheeks grow warm, surprising her a little. "That's none of your business," was her quick retort as she looked her brother-in-law right in the eye.

Snow sighed. "I'm going to bed. Get some rest. Night." He left the room.

For a moment, Lightning and Caius sat in silence. She wanted to move closer, and after a few moments of fighting that instinct, she did, leaning a little against his shoulder. Neither of them spoke for a time after that, letting their emotions kind of flitter back and forth, searching for a sense of stability. Lightning couldn't stop going over the fact that her sister had gone to the hospital, attempting to reassure herself with the idea that it was just for observational purposes, but it barely worked, and she didn't know what to do. She didn't want to leave her companion's side, but at the same time, all she wanted to do was be left alone with her thoughts.

Finally, she said, "Maybe this is the wrong time."

"For what?"

"For a relationship." Though she spoke those words, she didn't move. "If the world's going crazy, now's not the time. There's more important things than each other, you know. Besides, this isn't really my thing."

He grunted quietly. "Perhaps. However, what can you do about what is happening?"

She groaned. "I could be with my sister and make sure she's okay."

"She will be." Lightning sensed a spike of anger and hurt surge through his heart, but couldn't pin down its origin before it disappeared. "She is being taken care of by her husband, as well as the doctors and nurses of Academia's best hospital. What makes you believe your presence could make it any better? It is no longer your place."

Now it was her turn to be angry. "What you mean, it's not my place?"

"Lightning, Serah is married and pregnant with her husband's child. You are still her sister, and you always will be, but now she has a family of her own to care for, and you are not part of it."

Her eyes found his. "You're not serious."

"That is the way of many cultures I have seen over the centuries." Though he spoke firmly, she felt him take her hand in his, lacing his fingers through hers. Her anger and irritation fizzled out. "But, it doesn't matter right now. I must admit, you handled Snow's inquiry very well."

"Well, it isn't any of his business," she growled. "I just wish I knew whether it was the right time."

"Claire, don't wait for a 'right time'. You will know. This does not concern anyone but you and I. Your sister has no say in how you live anymore, nor Snow, nor anyone else."

Letting her body relax, she settled against his shoulder. "Guess you're right. The joys of being a grown woman?"

She heard him chuckle. "Those are the 'joys' of being an adult."

"Yeah, there's that. Will you sleep okay tonight?"

"I will now, I promise."

Satisfied with his answer, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. As she started to stand, though, she sensed frustration and anger from her companion, welling up briefly before dying again. She hesitated, looking at him, hand falling on its own to his knee as their eyes met again.

"What's got you so worried?"

A frown creased his forehead. "Your sister. Nothing more."

The way he spoke told her, in no uncertain terms, that he was done talking. Trying to ignore her worry, she stood and let him stand as well, briefly laying a hand on his upper arm and looking him in the eye, before watching him leave the house. She locked the door behind him and went to sleep with his memory soothing her weary mind.