44 Midnight

As the twilight faded, midnight, and the silence, fell.

For the next few days, as final preparations were made, she wandered in a dreamlike state, trying to find something to occupy her mind, her hands, her heart, keeping it off the aching sense of loss. She tried to be as strong as possible around Snow, now a widower, who struggled to care for his two children even with the support of an extended family all around him, but the difficulty of doing so had been amplified by her own grief. She ran away, in many ways, seeking distraction in work, in sleep, in moving images on a television screen. Her husband did the same, but he disappeared for great lengths of time instead.

His heart mirrored her grief, but she could not seek comfort in him, and did not try, as the separation began and the silence continued to linger.

The funeral service would be held one month after her death. She would be cremated, her ashes scattered at the base of Cocoon's crystal pillar as a memorial to her life, and her part in freeing them of the tyrannical rule of the fal'Cie. Snow tried to keep a good face on, told the others to celebrate her life rather than mourn its loss, but it meant less than it should have with tears in his eyes. Snow never ran, but for that first week, he closed himself away, unable to even be strong for his children.

Saturday morning, Caius returned to her after being away for that entire week. She was just crawling into bed when he came through the door, fresh out of the shower, but looking, and feeling, completely drained. As she sat on the bed, opening her mouth to speak, he fell to his knees at the bedside, pressing his forehead to her knees.

Lightning felt her self-control crack as she sensed the wild mass of tangled feeling swirling in his heart. "What's going on?" she whispered.

He continued to sit there, wordlessly, and she sensed his body trembling, harder and harder with each passing moment. Her hands went of their own accord to his hair; it was still a little bit damp to the touch. "Claire, my love, I did this to you, and to Snow. I destroyed his world. I did this. This is my fault." The words came tumbling out, as though he were afraid if he didn't speak now, he never would. "This is my fault, all my fault. I am at fault for getting her killed, at fault for Snow's grief, for your hurt–"

"Stop that," she whispered, and gently lifted his chin to look at her. Seeing him, though, made the rest of her words die on her lips – she had never seen him so grief-stricken, so completely emotionally devastated, not even when she had witnessed through history dozens of Yeuls dying in his arms. It was then that the walls between them broke, and for the first time since her sister's death, she truly saw what was going on inside.

And she saw his thoughts, his memories. His nightmares.

There was an image of Serah, collapsing to the ground, half-held by Noel, silhouetted against a fiery sunset over the plain stretched beneath Cocoon. There was a flash of wartime and bloodied grass, and crystal energy shimmering in the air and a light in the sky. There was a green-eyed girl – many green-eyed girls – falling to her knees, whimpering in pain, life fading too fast from her eyes.

And there was her, fighting in Valhalla, thrown through buildings, crushed under stone, choosing to stay instead of going home, and him, laughing at her plight.

Instead of pulling him up to her, she slid off the bed to the floor, embracing him, letting him fall against her and bury his face in her shoulder like a child, trying to push away the memories by sheer force of will, knowing there was little else she could do no matter what she desired.

"Maybe you're partly at fault, but I am too, you know." Her voice shook; she swallowed. "I sent her out on that journey, knowing full–" Something gripped her throat; she took a shaky breath. Her vision blurred. "I knew she could… die, and I still… I still did it. You're not the only one at fault, but I– I just– I just–" And then she embraced him as tightly as she dared, holding the great warrior, the dangerous immortal, her old enemy, against her as though he would literally break apart if she didn't. "Please don't do this. I forgive you, and I can't– I can't get– we can't get through this alone. We need each other's strength. We need–"

Though his body did not wrack with sobs, she still felt his shoulders shake, still felt his lungs struggling to take in a breath, still felt her shoulder grow wet. She pressed her face to his shoulder and cried with him, saying nothing and not needing to, knowing he needed her, she needed him, he blamed himself, he would always blame himself, but they would be alright, just not right now. Not right now.

When they finally had enough sense to crawl into bed, they bound their hearts as tightly together as possible, lying in each other's arms, and fell asleep like that.

But in her dreams, she saw unsettling images – plays of light and shadow, the echoes of his nightmares.


"It doesn't look like it now," Sazh's voice of reason said, "but you will be alright. I know it's not what you want to hear. It certainly isn't what I wanted to hear when my wife died."

He sat beside Snow at the bar at the house, one hand resting on the blond man's shoulder – his own quiet and rather fatherly way of offering reassurance, Snow supposed. The problem, however, was despite the fact that he knew Sazh was touching him, he didn't really feel it. His gaze lingered in the blue depths of the sticky liquid in the glass in front of him – a short glass he had been nursing for nearly an hour now.

It was morning, and he felt cold as his namesake.

"How?" he mumbled. "I have two children with her, my wife, my love, my life, the whole reason I did everything on Cocoon. Now they don't have a mother." As he finished speaking, he felt something tighten a noose around his neck and had to swallow, hard, to loosen it enough to breathe.

Sazh sighed, but didn't remove his hand. "You told me the last thing she said to you. Now, what was it?"

Snow said nothing and stared at the countertop.

"Come on, now, Snow Villiers. It's good to remind yourself of what she said. Now, what did she say?"

Snow breathed, "To love again."

"Then, you will. Maybe not for ten years, but you will." Sazh propped his chin on his other hand. "I've stayed unmarried, but I really haven't found the opportunity to find love again. Either I was in mourning still, or off saving the world, or trying to keep the government running smoothly. Now that Senna's off the hook and the rest of our political problems are being cleaned up, maybe I will now, finally."

Snow's mind wandered to Lightning, and how she could be feeling about this whole ordeal. He thought of Caius, who had been responsible for this mess to begin with. He thought of Noel, to whom the mysterious object wrapped in paper would go to someday. He thought of Hope, determined to run off into the future if his words hadn't gotten through. The world was quiet, like a forest at midnight, but despite his grief–

Somehow, deep inside, despite his heart being twisted up in grief, despite feeling a pit of emptiness in his gut, and despite losing the other half of his existence, he felt… oddly peaceful.

Serah had known she would die. She must have known, or else she would not have gone so peacefully.

"Maybe I will," he murmured, and managed a tiny smile. "I've just… she was everything to me, and I lost her. A part of my existence just got snapped off and thrown away. I can't–" One hand extended into empty air, fingers flexing. "I can't get her back, no matter what. She's… gone, Sazh, she's just–"

And then his emotions collapsed in a single broken sob, and that hand came back to cover his eyes. Sazh said nothing, keeping his hand on Snow's shoulder.

"What if you could bring her back? What if she could be returned to you?"

Snow forced himself to stop, keeping any more tears from falling, and twisted in his seat. Caius stood a short distance away, gazing steadily at him, the picture of a great warrior whose emotions had been broken to the point of, very nearly, no return, if the heaviness in his eyes were any indication. Snow's own eyes widened when he realized that not only was Caius completely serious in his proposition, but he himself had begun to consider it.

He choked out a single, stern, "No."

Snow saw the man's chest expand, shoulders straightening, and exhale, in a single smooth movement. "Time can be changed. Serah can be returned to you, and all of the grief can end." His voice shook, slightly, but he never took his eyes off Snow's, not even for a second. "Think of it, Snow. You would have your wife back, and your children would have their mother again. Do they not need their mother?"

Snow felt himself swallow again.

"And Lightning… does she not need her sister?"

Sazh only sat there, and Snow knew he was waiting. This was Snow's problem, Snow's decision, and he was the only one who could make any sort of response. It was something that had to come from the heart, and it had to be his choice and his choice only. No one else could make that decision for him.

And he looked at his hands, thinking of Serah's delicate, feminine hands, her beautiful smile, her bright blue eyes, the scent of her skin, the taste of her lips, the texture of her hair.

The children she had brought into the world.

"Serah was all of those things – my existence, a sister, and a mother, and if she were to return, I think a lot of the pain would go away. You're right about that." His eyes came up again. "But… Caius, it's not worth it. There are too many variables, and I don't believe Serah would want that. She'd want us to keep pushing, be strong, and move on with our lives. We're grieving now. I'm half a man right now." He barely avoided choking again. "But, some things need to be left alone, and now I know time is one of those things."

Caius's expression had not changed. "You would give up this opportunity chance to see the woman you love most in the world alive again?"

His lips parted, and suddenly he understood.

In that moment, he saw and felt what Caius must have felt, watching the girl he swore to protect die over and over for centuries, helpless to stop it, and couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, for a minute. There were variables, and Serah would be angry, but would she be the type to get over it? Would she understand, too? Summer and Cecil would have their mother back and grow up safe and strong in a badly unbalanced world. Lightning would have her sister, and her travels would never have been in vain. Perhaps, if he went back far enough, changed time's flow just a little, he could stop any of these tragedies from ever occurring – Lightning being taken away, Serah suffering her visions, the looming threat of the government hanging over them all–

Caius and Lightning would have never met, fallen in love, mutually decided to spend eternity together, but it was a small price to pay to return Serah to them all.

Lightning wouldn't remember her love for this world-destroying monster.

But the words that came from his lips didn't echo his sentiments, no matter how much he wanted them to, and though he willed them to spill out his deepest desires and desperate longing, what came out was all Snow Villiers and heroism and selflessness instead of humanity.

"I think… we'll survive."

Caius's eyes went terrifyingly hard, cold, right before he went straight outside, a swift and stout gait moving him quickly away. Lightning came out of the bedroom then, looking pale, having not changed out of her nightclothes yet, and followed him. When he listened, he heard raised voices, bitterness, and the great warrior's voice cracking. His heart ached at the sound; the voices stopped and she came back inside, looking pained, mouth tight, hands clenched. She avoided his eyes entirely, going straight back into her bedroom, closing the door.

Snow bit the inside of his lip at the sight.

"Caius is gonna blame himself for a long time." Sazh broke the silence, speaking in a soft voice. "But, just like you, he'll get over someday. Not today, not tomorrow, but… soon."

Snow felt an ache gnawing at his heart. "You kind of know what he was up to. How can you let go so easily?"

"Because I didn't live this long by bein' a crotchety, unforgiving child."

"Even though he was gonna destroy everything?"

Sazh finally let go of the other man's shoulder. "Even though," he murmured. "He's been a good husband to Lightning, a good friend to you, and been doing his part to keep things stable. From what I understand, he fixed a lot of paradoxes before he came back here, since Dajh's lost years were given to him. That, and he also gave up seeing Yeul again, even though she was obviously quite precious to him." Fixing his dark eyes on Snow, he seemed to emanate wisdom – something Snow realized he desperately needed, and desired. "It's not worth hanging onto a grudge like that, believe me. It's better to just let it go."

He thought of Serah's limp hand, her body being covered up before they forced him from the room, the funeral that would be held far too soon. "But I ca–"

"You're stubborn, and pretty much still one of the kids. You can honor her memory by living, or you can do the exact opposite of what she wanted and do this." Sazh stood from his seat, but despite his stern tone, his eyes didn't match it. "Whatever you choose, it's your choice. I'll, uh…" He sighed. "I'll see you at the funeral."

Snow gathered enough strength to nod. "A lot of people will be there, even from the government. Maybe when it's all done, everything will be…" He paused. "…alright again."


For the first time in many moons, Caius Ballad stood on a bluff above his ancestral home and gazed at Cocoon on its crystal pillar with a note of derision.

The lack of chaos in the air, in the earth, in his blood, had sapped much of his power, but he was by no means lacking in abilities. While it would take more effort now, he could still wear away the crystal fibers until it broke and fell from its own weight. He could no longer be sure toppling it would cause enough death to break open Etro's carefully-constructed dam, but it had to come close with Academia right at the foot of it and no metashield to protect the world. When the crack between worlds opened again, the chaos would come, and time could flow, or not flow, as he and his eternal companion saw fit.

He thought of Yeul, dozens of them and hundreds more in different timelines, dying in his arms, some peacefully, others with tears in their eyes, and a few – only a few, a very few – condemning the short lives they had been given. In return for not being here, they had to be somewhere else. Their lack of existence here left a vacuum in the threads of the spacetime continuum, and it had to be made up somewhere, or else the fabric of existence would be riddled with holes with no way to patch them.

Somewhere out there, she still lived and died meaningless existences, and here he was, living free.

Snow's heart was broken, and he had broken it.

His eyes scanned the great pillar glittering in the sunlight, darkness clouding his heart. With the right angle, he could cause it to topple in the direction of Academia, wiping out the population there, choking them with clouds of crystal ash, and they would all die at once. The winds were in his favor, blowing in just the right direction to carry his plan to fruition. They would be painful, but quick, deaths.

His love, the woman he did not deserve to even look at, had told him everything was fine and would be fine, but he could not hear her out, and so he had shouted at her, bitter insults and words meant only to hurt, and felt the sting as though they had been directed at him. Her eyes filled with tears, but she hadn't let them fall, only giving him a sharp retort before turning her back to him and running away.

Every step had felt heavy as he sensed her anger, grief, and confusion, roiling inside him like a storm-thrashed sea, with no release and no way to soothe them.

He hated himself, now more than ever, for doing that to her, for hurting the woman he so dearly loved on purpose, for running away again, for killing her sister, thinking of destroying Cocoon, thinking of some way to bring the chaos into this world, consequences or no, and screamed his anger and frustration and grief to the sky and the thing on the horizon as only a man who would not ever die could, and collapsed to his knees on the mossy earth with his head bowed and his hands clasped across the back of his neck.

The woman who made up the other half of his existence was in pain, hurting because of him, and she sensed his sudden surge in emotion, and despite her despair, she still reached for him, still tried to touch his heart. Ashamed of himself, he didn't let her do it and pushed her away instead.

Her reaction only broke his heart further as she backed away as quickly as she had come.

Why did he get to escape? Why did he get to continue living, married to a beautiful woman he had met as an enemy on the battlefield, forced to witness the consequences of his failures unfold before him as the world slowly devolved and everyone's sanity broke apart before his eyes?

And now he had gone and pushed her away, and hated himself even more.

What made him so special that he got to survive? What was so great and wonderful about his existence that he got to continue living while others had to suffer because of him?

He wanted to die, right then, more than ever before in his life, wanted to plunge into the darkness and whatever judgment awaited in the world beyond, wanted to leave so that others could be happy, could live without him always alive while they had to suffer… wanted to– he just wanted–

He just wanted to be with her, and no one else, for as long as she would let him tonight. With her, as close as their bodies could be. With her, as only a man and woman, husband and wife, could be, because he needed her, more than he had ever needed her before, because if he slipped from her fingers he would be tormented and long to finish his plan to topple Cocoon and it just– wasn't what was supposed to happen.

No, he couldn't do that to Claire, his love, his life, couldn't take away her world when she had given up so much just for him, couldn't return to being the man he was before.

As he turned from Cocoon to his village, he felt his chest tighten in another form of despair. The quaint village, the very one he and Lightning had gotten married in, was even quieter now, as a few of the elderly and a young hunter had been lost very recently. Perhaps two dozen people remained now, and though children continued to be born, the number of people not related to one another dwindled each year. Soon, the pool of genetic diversity would end, and his people, descendants of the great Farseer nation, would be no more.

He descended into the village, trying to keep his head up and back straight, but had trouble, especially at the sight of those creeping into their elder years going through the motions of their daily chores as though sleepwalking, eyes downcast despite their proud gait.

As he passed the entrance to the village, he stopped, and went inside.

The village leader was Paddra Sun-Rin, son of a great hunter, and his lineage could be traced back all the way to the War of Transgression, where many lineages ceased to be so clear. Somewhere back there, Caius could remember an old friend being an ancestor of Rin, Yoteri of Paddra, a man with the paradoxical ability to be a complete flirt and a great and serious warrior. What would he think of what had become of their people?

He found the village leader standing near the corral, staring at the birds as they wandered around their pen and scratched at the dirt. Caius came up beside him and leaned on the corral fence. Long ago – two years, almost three now – he and Lightning had stood here and tried to work out what to do with their lives. She had tried to convince him to return to New Bodhum and live among her friends and family.

Back then, he never would have believed he would be spending his nights welcome in her bed at her side.

"Rin," he said, "if I may, I must speak with you."

The dark-haired man didn't look at him, but he gave a single nod. Before Caius could go on, though, he spoke first, saying, very quietly, "When I took over after Yeul's last passing, I knew the quiet was coming. I knew that one day, this village would fall completely silent. I knew that one day, the Farseers would be gone but for you."

Caius frowned. "That is what I wished to discuss."

Rin looked at him now, returning the frown. "What can we do, Caius Ballad?" he murmured. "How can we save our people from extinction now, when there are so few of us left?"

Caius said nothing for a while, instead gazing at the chocobos. Their soft twittering and quiet stamping of feet let him drift off into a world where no worries existed, where life was always peaceful, and where the scent of grass and sunlit earth always lingered. The chocobos cared little for the affairs of men, only concerned with whether they got their food, water, and shelter as they needed in the long run.

"Perhaps they can join the rest of the world."

The man beside him had eyes as dark as a storm; they darkened further into night. "We shunned the world and technology long ago. We're not going to change that."

"You would rather die than change?"

"We would."

"You say you speak for all the people." Caius had been there and witnessed this tradition being enacted, centuries ago, after Paddra's fall, had seen the Yeul of that time solemnly agree to it. All the leaders since then had upheld that tradition as solidly as the foundation of stone underfoot. "Yet, do you truly know their wishes? Are you aware of how they might think of their impending extinction? Perhaps they would do this to save their people, and to allow our blood, our culture, and our lives, to live, rather than merely exist in museums."

Rin was already shaking his head. "I know the answer already, my friend. They will not stand for it."

Caius was in no mood for soft words. "Then they will die."

"Tradition shouldn't break because of possibilities."

Though he restrained his frustrations well, he still heard the wood between his fingers creak. "I do not wish to see our people die, Rin. I have seen enough death as it is. I have caused enough of it." Again, the wood creaked, and he felt a splinter digging into his skin. "Reconsider. At least ask the people what they desire. If they truly wish to stay as they are and perish – and, please, remind them that that would be their fate – then I have no qualms. But…" He let go of the wood with one hand to rest it lightly on his hip instead. "…if even one has a doubt, consider it. Even if you must allow them to go free into the world, let it be their choice."

Rin's eyes were still dark, but they softened. "Despite your years being dampened with pain," he said, in a much gentler voice, "you still have wisdom. Your body is young, but your mind is ancient, and though the human mind can only hold so much, you seem to have retained what truly matters."

Caius almost wanted to laugh at him. He had never enjoyed being called or considered "wise", and still thought of himself as a foolish man, through and through, having to learn "wisdom" by traveling down the hardest paths and absorbing truth only after having had it beaten into him. He knew he was stubborn, he knew he was still ignorant of many things, and he despised being looked upon in awe.

But if someone could learn from his mistakes, could pave a better future with his tales, then perhaps it was worth it.

"Then," he said, "you will consider all the options?"

"I suppose you of all people in this world know of consequences." For the first time that day, Rin's lips turned up at the corners into a hint of a smile. "Yes, Caius. I will consider it." There was silence for a time, and then he said, "In the case of tradition, perhaps it should be… reexamined from time to time."

Caius felt a surge of emotion through his heart, but it wasn't his, and felt a pull in the direction of New Bodhum. It took every ounce of effort not to look. "Very well."

Rin's brow furrowed slightly, but his smile didn't disappear. "Something on your mind?"

Caius blinked. "Hmm?"

"You seem rather distracted."

The warrior shifted his weight and looked back at the corral. "My wife and I have been… having difficulties. I would rather leave it at that if I could, and…" The next words, after a brief pause, came out in a rush, as though he had been holding them in for days. "…I wish to return to her more than anything."

"I can take care of our people," Rin assured him. "Go to your wife. She is the most important part of your life now."

Caius felt a sense of relief. "I will return later to check on your progress."

Rin nodded and looked back at the birds. "As you wish."

The warrior turned from the leader, and the moment he did so, his mind returned to the sensations that had been grieving his heart as of late – losing Serah, witnessing Snow's broken heart, knowing that Lightning suffered for her loss but somehow kept a good, strong face on, for everyone around her, but he knew she would break. Sooner or later, she would shatter, and he had to be there to pick up the pieces or she would try to do it alone, and he had seen what happened whenever she tried to do something alone…

As he climbed into the narrow cleft that exited the valley and led back out onto the plains, he heard something, a very distinct and familiar sound, and stopped.

The sound of an airship's engines.

And felt the sensation of being pulled toward that sound.

He was out of that cleft in the rock faster than ever before, hitting the ground running, and collided with the woman who had come after him hard enough to nearly knock him off his feet – and then he let it happen, both of them falling to the earth, the impact cushioned by grass and dust.

"Why do you keep coming after me?" he demanded of her, but between heated kisses pressed to her mouth, over and over, as she dug her fingernails into his chest and returned his kisses with as much passion. "Why am I worth all this pain even when I hurt you on purpose?"

Lightning sat up on her knees after a time, pulling him with her, arms wrapped around his neck, forehead pressed to his, and exhaled against his lips. Even being away from her for a few hours felt as though he had snapped off some part of himself and left it behind. Sooner or later, he knew, the passion would wear off, but it felt so good to know that she would still come back even when he made a fool of himself.

"Sazh brought me to you," she murmured. Her body shivered against his, faintly. "I told him what happened and he got it." Her lips curled into a brief, lopsided grin. "Think you can get away from me, huh? You're an idiot."

His hands came to her waist, keeping her balanced on his lap. "I am sorry."

"Oh, shut up," was her quick retort. When he met her eyes, hers were shining. "I knew what I was getting into with you. Remember when I said we, uh, had a lot of baggage, and that's what worried me about getting into a romance with you?" Her brief laugh sounded like the most beautiful music to him. "Come on, Cai, did you honestly think this was going to be the end-all, you insulting me like that? If you really want me gone, you're gonna have to do better than that, 'cuz I don't plan to ever let you go."

"Even though I am responsible for your sister's death, and your brother in law's heartbreak?"

"Yeah, actually," she murmured. "Even though." She hesitated. "Don't forget, my love, she chose to have another child, alright? It's not all your fault." She pressed a finger to his lips when he started to speak. "She chose this end. Who can tell why she did it, but she did, alright? Don't hate yourself." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close to her, pressing her mouth against his cheekbone. "I don't."

That gesture pulled a somewhat involuntary exhale from his lips; his eyes closed a little when she nuzzled his skin, basking in the unmistakably wonderful glow of her affection. Had someone told him she could be like this back when they had first encountered one another, he would have laughed. Now, he knew what a precious gift it was to have her love, particularly when it was directed at an undeserving fool like him.

"But, Claire…" Forcing himself to pull away enough to look at her, he fixed his gaze on hers. One of his hands was on the back of her neck; he held her steady to gaze into her eyes. "Claire, if you were to let me go, I could change all of this. I could fix the–"

She laid a finger on his lips. "No matter how much it hurts to know my sister is–" Tears filled her eyes; she blinked, and they fell, gliding down her cheeks, leaving tracks of wetness in their wake. A soft choking sound escaped her, triggering a sensation of self-hate within him, but the moment she sensed it, she shook her head, pulling herself back together. "No matter how much it hurts, I wouldn't give up knowing you, or my love for you, for anything."

Hearing that sort of confession, he didn't know what to say.

Lightning looked at the airship. "Look, I'm… sorry, too. Guess I still can't be the best wife I can, huh." Her eyelids lowered until her eyes were almost closed; he smoothed his thumb across her cheek. "You tried to hurt me because you were hurting and hating yourself. Kind of like you did in Valhalla."

Hearing those words brought back a flood of bitter memories he wanted nothing to do with anymore. He took her face in both hands, firmly, making her look at him. In the moments before he next spoke, he knew this, unlike all the other times before, would be a true turning point.

"Claire Averia Farron," he murmured, "look at me."

Her eyes of the sky flicked open to focus on his, lashes framing them in an almost breathtaking way.

He felt his breath hitch before he said, "Trying to hurt you because I am hurt is childish. This I already knew, but I have done it enough. I have hurt you enough. I am your husband, your Guardian, your friend, and your lover. Half of me makes up half of you, and I am yours." When her eyes fluttered slightly and the line of her mouth softened, he felt a curve reach his lips. "When I hurt you, not only am I hurting another's heart, but also driving a knife into my own heart and soul. I am far from perfect–"

"I know," she said, gently.

His lips curved a little bit more. "–but I will strive to be, from this day on. No more strife between us."

"Somebody'll fail sooner or later," she murmured.

Still feeling a smile on his lips, he pulled her close enough to kiss her, holding her even when he felt her shivering, giving her a foundation of strength. That was his purpose, his lone desire, he realized. His desires had to be of her, not of ghosts in his past or possible futures or the things he had done. No longer was his life his own. It belonged to her, with her, and he would have it no other way.

"Perhaps," he breathed against her lips, and stood, bringing her with him with both hands in hers. Her knees seemed to shiver when she stood. "But we knew we were imperfect getting into this."

"Understatement," she muttered, but her cheeks were a bit pink.

One hand touched her cheek. "Are you blushing?"

Unintelligible stuttering fell from her lips for just a moment, and then her eyes came to his, one eyebrow up. "Guess how many times anyone's told me they love me." She paused and audibly, if quietly, swallowed. "And… guess how many times anyone's… well, uh, you know, desired me as you do."

Instead of feeling embarrassed, he smirked at her and pulled her body closer despite her deepening blush, free hand going around her waist. "As if I could be any other way."

Her lips quirked. "Let's go home."

He looked her in the eye, smirk dissolving. "If we do, Snow will be there."

He sensed her discomfort with that particular fact before he saw it echoed on her face. "Right," she muttered. A sigh escaped her; she looped both arms around his neck and rested her cheek on his chest. "And I don't really want to have to see him right now. It's just a reminder of what's been…" Now she grunted, softly. "No, Caius, I don't want to go home, but I don't know where else we can go."

"Not to my village. Rin is in the midst of making arrangements to ensure my people's continued survival."

"And not to Academia. Too much 'government'."

He nodded and rested his chin atop her head. Even though she had fallen into the dirt with him and been up on her feet for hours, her hair was still laced with the citrusy scent of her shampoo and the warm, musky scent of her body wash, coupled with the scent of earth from the fall and flowers in the air. "Perhaps we should go home, then," he said. "We will just stay away from Snow for the time being."

He felt her nod. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Responding to her nod with a quick squeeze, he turned, keeping an arm across her shoulders, and felt her loop an arm around his waist, keeping their bodies close. The height difference between them made it easy for her to lay her head on his shoulder, and so she did, trusting him to lead her back to the airship. Sazh greeted them quietly, but said no other words than what he needed, rocketing back into the sky toward home.


This story only has three more chapters to go before it's over. Wow, it's been so long and this story has changed so much throughout the process of writing it... Anyway, I now have a Tumblr account, so if you ever have anything to ask about this story (or anything else) or you just get bored one day, feel free to check out my blog. Thank you so much for all your support as I finish up this very long story and prepare for the ending I have been planning since I first started a year and a half ago...