She had managed to hand Dajh over to Lebreau the moment she arrived at camp, granting the barmaid a withering glare that was met with a waved hand and a small snort of laughter. Lebreau tried to defend herself by saying something about it being good practice, a thought that was quickly countered with an exasperated outburst on Lightning's part about conspiracies. A wink, a touch to the side of her nose: "I wouldn't put it past us," she said with a smirk, taking Dajh's hand and leading him towards her hut for a nap.

"'Us'?" Lightning called out after her but Lebreau had already disappeared into the shadows of her home, leaving Lightning alone with the crackling embers of a fire and growing suspicions.

Impressively, she managed to stay at the fire's edge for a whopping ten minutes all on her own before she got restless. Nobody else was here and she hated sitting still and doing around and doing nothing meant she'd have to recall the day she just had, would have to remember leaving Hope behind, and that was not an idea she could tolerate.

So, nearly as soon as she'd arrived, she'd left and followed a nonexistent and yet entirely familiar trail to the place she'd been visiting every day for over a week. It took her nearly an hour to reach her spot, a location very near to the one she had left Hope at earlier, but the passing of time barely even registered in her mind. Her muscles memorized every step and, as if on autopilot, she steered herself to a shadowy location at the top of a hill and plopped herself down.

With an elbow hooked around her knee and her chin resting on top of it, Lightning sat watch over the clearing below her grassy knoll. Sharp eyes flickered briefly over each of the many figure roaming below but her true focus was only – and had only ever been – on one person.

Everyone else had said that they weren't able to find Serah, that they'd been searching for her since the day after she disappeared but had been met with no luck, but Lightning had tracked her down within six hours on her first try. It had been easy to narrow down the possibilities – the others just didn't know Serah well enough to know where to look.

Whenever Serah had been hurt, upset, angry, she'd always head straight to the pier in Bodhum. If Lightning got a call from the school the day after the two sisters had gotten into a fight, and the school stated that Serah hadn't shown up, Lightning knew she could find Serah near the water's edge. Her little sister would stand on the furthest dock, her toes wiggling above the water with her arms hugged tight to her chest. She'd stay for hours on end, pondering life and the nonsense of it, with Lightning quietly watching her from afar. Lightning would typically leave to do some work while Serah sorted through her problems, but she would always return to make sure the youngest Farron would find her way home safely.

With these memories in mind, Lightning made a beeline to the nearest body of water and made her rounds to every other potential river or pond that she could think of. Though she'd been hoping that luck would help her find Serah within the first couple of tries, it ended up being a four hour ordeal that ended in vain. It was time for Plan B.

She had turned on her heels then and went towards the camp's center, very near to the Esthiem tent, and found the roughly-drawn layout of the budding town that Bartholomew or some other head honcho had designed and looked over its contents carefully. A poorly-drawn square indicated exactly the type of thing she was looking for and, without further ado, Lightning made her way south-west.

She should have gone with Plan B first.

The quiet solitude of the pier was essential for helping Serah cool off after an argument, but it was her worst enemy when she needed to distract herself from her miseries. No, for that she'd have a different idea: kids. Whenever life got too overwhelming for her to handle, Serah would surround herself with children. She'd volunteer to help her friend at the local orphanage and drown her sorrow in the innocent laughter and play of children, putting all her energy and determination into feeling their joy for herself.

Lightning grunted when she tripped over a divot in the ground. Volunteering at a damn orphanage. What more needed to be said about Serah?

With her destination in mind, it didn't take Lightning long to hunt down the corral where a dozen or so children were kept busy during the day. They were nestled in a valley, hidden by a few large hills. And there, on her knees tickling a random kid, had been Serah.

Lightning gave a small sigh. The images that had been conjured in her mind by Snow's tale of a furious Serah, a Serah that had lashed out in anger at Snow, were still fresh in her mind - but seeing her here, now, made it seem incredibly hard to believe. This Serah here seemed peaceful; content with life while she played with the spawn of the demons who had tried to kill her months before. She was full of smiles and grace once more, her giggles and laughter carrying through the air like a bird's song.

She seemed fine. Happy, even.

The eldest of the Farron family watched on in silence and began to notice a trend. The quiet moments would come unexpectedly; those moments where the kid she was lavishing with attention decided to run off and join his friends and it would leave Serah to her own devices. It was at times like that when her front of joy would melt and the inner turmoil she felt seeped out like a noxious poison. Her face would fall, her brows would crinkle, and pain would flit across her face.

I know it's my fault.

Those moments in particular tugged at the thawing strings of Lightning's heart. The passion that bubbled in Serah was well-known to Lightning, as was the way Serah thought she felt about Snow. Serah loved her tiny family fiercely, despite their fights, and wanted to do everything she could to bring Snow into it, too. Imagine, then, how she must have felt when not only did Snow call things off, but he also dared to utter that Lightning was the cause - and not because Lightning demanded that he stay away from Serah, but rather because Snow couldn't stay away from Lightning.

Lightning sighed and pulled her knee closer to her chest. She wished she could fix this. She wanted to fix this. No matter what her feelings for Snow were, Serah was family - the only person who had stuck with Lightning despite all the bullshit Lightning would throw Serah's way.

Lightning had been coming here for days. She had made up a new excuse up each time she visited, trying her best to avoid looking as guilty as she felt for abandoning camp, work, and everyone in it; and then she'd make a beeline for the valley, nestling in near a copse of trees that hid her from view. She'd come and sit, come and observe, for hours on end and contemplate the two sisters' life, her own decisions, and try to figure out how much of it all she regretted at the end of the day.

So, yes, days had been spent here: hours wasted away, from not long after sunrise until the flaming red sky dyed itself to a deep purple. Lightning would watch Serah play with the kids, watch as she taught them the alphabet or bits and pieces of history or helped them with their handwriting. She'd watch Serah dry their tears when they cried and saw her scold the ones that were being mean.

She watched all of it.

Snow, of course, knew exactly what she was doing even if he wouldn't say it outright. The first couple days he had offered to come with her and help with whatever task Lightning had invented. His eyes were always a little narrowed when he asked, his mouth tighter than usual, but when she gave her refusal he still managed to force a smile and a careless shrug of his shoulders anyway. "Be back before nightfall, at least," he'd say each time, and every time he'd turn his back and leave before she could say anything in return.

It was cruel of her to do this to him. He'd argue that it was cruel of her to do this to herself.

But was it really? She didn't know.

Snow...

Leaving him every morning and not returning until night hadn't been the only crime she was guilty of. No, she'd been purposefully trying to avoid any physical contact with Snow, too. She had made some excuses the first couple nights that, for Hope's sake, she should probably sleep in the same hut as him and Sazh - he had asked her to help him while he tried to get used to society again, after all. Then, when that excuse got old, she'd find ways to busy herself until Snow would retire, and then she'd wait a little longer to make sure he was extra tired. She'd sneak in and crawl under the blankets near him. He'd wake up just enough to roll over and wrap an arm around her middle, and for a few minutes they'd talk about what was on Lightning's mind before he'd start to nod off again.

She was punishing herself for what she had done to Serah, and she knew it was affecting Snow, and she didn't know how to stop it.

Well, no. She did know how. But she didn't feel like she deserved to let everything go so easily.

Could her mind ever truly justify the decision of choosing Snow over Serah? Could her heart let her care for Snow like Serah's had, knowing what she sacrificed to have him?

How does she move on from here?

She drew her cape over her shoulders and clasped it closed, following the line Serah walked from the circle of children to the spot where her bag lay. Something was said about getting a drink and Serah seemed to be the one getting it. She took a seat and opened her pack. There was a short pause before she produced a piece of paper from within, one that Lightning recognized at once. Something that she had written and had Dajh deliver on their way back from Hope's without Serah noticing.

A pale hand held it before Serah, as if she were reading it, but then she quickly crumbled it up and threw it back into its leathery grave.

Lightning sighed.

It's understandable. I deserve it.

Where does she go from here, indeed.

She could sit here for ages, watching Serah as she had always done, wishing she could take back the previous wrongs she had committed. She could beg for forgiveness, she could leave Snow, she could follow Serah through hell and back to show her sister how much she still cared and how much she still wanted to be a part of her life.

But would that change anything? Would that erase the betrayal Serah felt, the anger, the bitterness that had crept in? Would that erase Lightning's feelings for Snow, or Snow's for her?

Was it remotely fair?

She had made so many promises to the people she had been near and all of them involved her to cease running away. Sure, it was obvious that trailing after Serah for days, weeks, years while the younger sister worked through her anger was a poor choice. It was obvious that coming here to watch over Serah every day would get her nowhere except further from those she had grown to care for. The option of running away for Serah's sake no longer made any sense now that the truth about Lightning and Snow was out. There was nothing to accept but that.

I don't expect her forgiveness. Not now.

That thought lifted a burden from her shoulders that had been weighing her down for months, but a smaller one was draped over her heart in its stead.

Footsteps crunched the stiff grass behind her and she didn't care to turn around and see who it was. Only one person could make a tracking device using the spare components in camp, and that old man wasn't much of a threat to this hardened soldier. "You're lucky I didn't find it 'til I sat down," she said over her shoulder, watching on as Serah recomposed herself and started cheering on some kids playing tag.

A quiet chuckle, deep and rich, sounded behind her as Sazh came up to stand by her side. "I can't believe you didn't feel those extra two ounces in your pocket. You must be losing your touch, soldier."

Lightning, still facing Serah, gave a weak smile at that. A few days of inactivity and rest had killed her – she could almost feel her skills rusting away. Sazh must have sensed it, too, and found the opportunity too good to miss.

The two of them, once divided by her cold glares and harsh words, sat in a comfortable silence and watched the kids below frolic and play. Lightning tried to pretend that her eyes were on everything but Serah, that it was perfectly normal for her to be watching a bunch of drooling, obnoxious brats beat each other with sticks, but it was a battle quickly lost.

"So, uh…what are you doing here?" Lightning rolled her eyes at Sazh, knowing full well that he had noticed Serah even before he had taken his seat. "Hell, okay, you got me. I know why you're here." The guilty, though beaming, grin took years off his face but it didn't last long. "Let me rephrase that: I know who you're here for. I just wanna know what you think this'll accomplish."

A new type of silence settled. This one was a little less comfortable.

She saw Serah recline easily back onto the grass. Lightning looked away. "I just wanted to make sure she's okay."

"So you've been hanging around for the past week just to make sure?"

She gave Sazh a hard stare that wasn't anywhere near as effective as it used to be. "You've been watching that tracker too much."

He shrugged. "I'm old. Watching you on my tracker to make sure you don't do stupid shit is practically the same as telling Dajh's friends to get off my lawn."

"Is this 'stupid shit' to you?"

Sazh's eyes narrowed. "Am I supposed to say 'no' here? 'Cause that's the vibe I'm getting and I'm not one for lying."

"What should I do – ignore her and run off with Snow and live happily ever after?" She avoided Sazh's gaze. "She's my sister. I want forgiveness. I want my family back. I didn't just fight the gods of our crappy little world so I could live the rest of my life without Serah." Her fists curled into balls involuntarily and she did her best to hide them by grinding her knuckles into the grass.

A shake of the head was the first response she received. "You been going on and on about losing your family this whole time, and not once did you realize that you got yourself a new one in the process."

Her attention, before torn between him and Serah, was now focused on Sazh. Her eyes were by no means friendly, but they lacked the fury they once contained.

"Yeah, you been pretty blind to what's going on around you," he continued, stroking his beard in reflection. "But you, me, Hope, Snow…we bled together. We cried together. We've lifted each other up. We've been there for each other. Hope loves and respects you more than his own father, more than you'll ever know. Snow cares about you and admires the hell out of you, and that's not just talking about your damn fine looks. And me, well…" he trailed off, lost his thought, shook his head. "We're more of a family than most families I know. Serah might be blood, but we got a bond that ain't nothing gonna break."

"But Serah—"

"If you go up to her now and ask for forgiveness, what would she do? She's gonna laugh in your face and walk away. It's too soon for you to be here. Wait a bit, try talking to her then, and put the ball in her court. She's the one that's hurt, so things need to happen more in her time than yours."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek in contemplation, mulling over the words that Sazh had spoken. What he said made sense in regards to Serah, she knew that. It was far too soon - her reaction to seeing a simple letter from Lightning was proof enough of how things would progress right now.

But was he really trying to suggest he replace Serah with him? With Snow and Hope?

And if that was what he meant, was it really so bad a thought?

She had done things with those three, and with Fang and Vanille, that she never thought herself capable of anymore. Hope had taught her how to care again and revealed that her nurturing side was still buried deep inside her. She savored the moments of growth that she'd seen within him, had been touched by his gentleness and optimism even if she had tried to bury it with callous words.

Sazh gave her the first meaningful friendship she'd ever had. He'd been the first to see through her bluffs, been the first to call her out on her lies. He had been the first to express his doubts, and the first one to see the dark thoughts and wishes that Lightning had towards Serah's awakening – and he hadn't judged her for it, not once.

And Snow? Well, there was a reason she was in this mess and it wasn't for lack of caring.

She'd experienced more emotional highs and lows with this bunch than she had collectively felt in years. She trusted them with her life, her sorrows, her doubts, and her heart.

But Serah—

"You gotta stop living in the past, Lightning. Serah's your sister, you love her, I get it. But you got a hell of a lot of people that love you, too. These people want you to be with them, physically and emotionally and mentally, and right now you're running from them like Serah's running from you."

Lightning laid her head on her arm, looking down on the valley with a sense of weary defeat. She knew what it felt like to have someone you cared for running from you, but in Snow's case it was because of how much he cared for her that Lightning was running: it was because he had been willing to tear down the sky to get the woman he wanted most, and he was willing to help Lightning piece her life back together so she could enjoy it, too.

And she was avoiding him for that?

I never said I was smart.

Lightning shook her head, trying to help clear it a little. She glanced to Sazh and noticed the sadness on his face as he looked at her. "You're hurting, too," she said quietly, knowing her wounds weren't the only ones festering.

Sazh's gaze leveled with hers and for a moment she felt the gravity behind it. "Even if I am, I can still preach wisdom to you, sister." He sighed and looked off towards Cocoon. "Yeah, I miss Fang. Yeah, I'm struggling with it. But I'm trying to deal with it, too. Your talk the other day helped me, so I'm trying to help you now." He gave a small smile. "We choose to be with you and be at your side, even though you've pissed us all off and hit us more than our fair share of times. You can go apologize to Serah if you damn well want, but don't throw away people's love 'cause she won't forgive you. That'd be stupid, and ain't no friend of mine stupid."

Her lips, a straight line before, turned into a curved smile as she looked back down towards Serah. Her sister's face was upturned, looking towards the sky, and there was a strange sense of peace in knowing that the two sisters were both silent, just a little ways apart, thinking quietly under the same bright, clear sky. Both carried burdens—

Serah moved again. It was a small movement, just a simple roll of her head, but that was all it took: Lightning felt the weight of her stare from here and it froze her in place. Beside her Sazh gave a quiet grunt but was otherwise still.

She knew Serah could see her. She'd have to. The copse of trees just kept her from being obvious, but she was still plenty visible.

Their gazes were locked, she knew they were.

Serah's demeanor didn't change. Her body didn't stiffen like Lightning's had and, unlike Lightning, she didn't need anyone to put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from standing up.

Then, just as easily as she looked over, Serah looked away towards the children and called to them. She stood, brushed off her skirt, and ushered them back towards camp. They lined up and, with Serah bringing up the rear and not looking back, they disappeared over the crest of a hill.

Sazh, ever sure and steady, gripped Lightning's shoulder more firmly.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Lightning knew Serah had seen her.

"Serah…" Lightning broke off, baffled and hurt all at once.

"I know, soldier."

Now that the kids were gone, the two of them sat together in total silence. Lightning didn't dare trust her voice and she suspected Sazh had nothing to say that would make her feel better. The quiet was starting to bother her, though, so she looked off to the side and sucked in a breath of air. Her mind scrambled for something to say that didn't involve Serah. The first thing that came to mind that fit that criteria was the first thing she blurted out. "I left Hope with his dad."

It was the wrong thing for her to bring up. She gave a puff of air that was supposed to be something like a laugh, but it came out too strangled to be anything near that. Sazh just smiled in the way that only he could while his arm snaked around to her other shoulder and jostled her gently back and forth. "He'll be back by tomorrow, soldier. Just you wait." His eyes swept over the empty children's corral below them. "None of us can stand being away from you for long, you know."

She grunted, trying to hide the weak smile his words brought on. "We'll see about that."

He smiled kindly at her and squeezed her shoulder again. "The only thing we'll see is that I'm right pretty much all the damn time." He shrugged a little. "It's a gift and a curse. But this time? This time it's a gift." He nudged her. "You're welcome."