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Elendyr- Thank you! Lightning can be ridiculously difficult to write sometimes. I don't know if I'm portraying her as too frigid or too vulnerable, too aggressive or too submissive, it's a fine line. Her battle scenes are ten times easier than the romantic ones…

He made it out. He scratched and clawed and ripped himself out to the surface. Found freedom. Home. Happiness. He could see Cocoon again, the future a clear vision in its crystal glow. He took back his fate from the clutches of a new puppet master. He was his own person. His future, his destiny was his to decide.

So how did he get here?

Why was he still bound by the webs of an unknown predator?

Numbness eclipsed Hope. He felt like he was laying on a cloud, cloaked in mist, moving by the will of another.

He didn't know his destination.

"Remember your destiny, Hope. You won't escape it. Not if I have anything to say about it."

Why couldn't his steps ever be his own?

Something like an explosion rocked the house and Zalera fell forward into the door, knocking her chin against the wood before she tried to settle her ear against it. "Hope?" she asked, tentatively. When there was no answer yet again, she banged her fist against the door, followed by her elbow, her foot, her body. Hope's other guards were stampeding their way up the stairs. Too slow. Too long. Zalera drew up her chakram, was going to chop her way in if she had to because Hope wasn't answering and he couldn't be dead and who was he talking to and god damn her for being stupid enough to take a shower, but the door creaked open.

As if it was never locked.

Zalera flew inside, stumbling in through the damn door to find Hope beneath a pile in the corner, the room otherwise unoccupied. "What…?" Zalera's voice caught. His body was smoking, the area blackened and burned. She dropped her chakram, zooming to Hope's side and unburying him from the rabble that she assumed had once decorated the newly decimated display case's shelves. She patted out a flame eating at his pant leg, cursing herself as her nose caught the scent of burnt flesh. "Hope? Hope, you with me?"

I'm just glad you're still here. Still breathing. But…

Who were you talking to?

Who did this to you?

The other guards were scrambling in behind her. Calling for a med team and back up. Checking the perimeter and the house for attackers. Useless. All useless flailing because even she could tell that the intruder was long gone.

When Hope was free of the debris, Zalera put a hand on his back to shake him. She flinched back at a pinprick of pain. Shards of glass peppered his back, blood blotting through the fabric. One particularly large piece stuck out of his shoulder blade like the bone of a broken wing. She couldn't turn him over with that glass in his back, but she could see the burns on his face, the red, peeling skin and his singed hair. She needed to dress his wounds.

"Who did this?"

Isn't there only one answer to that question?

"Castea," Zalera growled. She took hold of her chakram and stood up, staring at the ceiling, the walls, spinning around to find some hint of her because Zalera knew. This was the work of one woman. A monster. "Get back here and face me! I'm right here! What's the matter? You afraid? The big bad l'Cie can only take on kids?!"

"I'mno… kid…"

"Hope." Zalera dropped back down. Another guard crouched down beside Hope, but Zalera shoved him out of her way.

"I… mmnn… ot a…"

"What? What is it, Hope?"

Hope hissed as he moved, attempting to turn onto his side. His foot kicked out, sending a golden figure spinning into the wall. "I am… NOT a kid."

Zalera would have laughed if it weren't for the sight of his face. The skin was burned to a raw, meaty red, the muscles of his cheek visible and spasming. How Hope was able to speak through the pain… We've had practice, I suppose.

Hope shifted his weight onto his forearms before buckling back down to the ground.

"Hey. Don't move. Don't talk. Don't… Don't even think. Just breathe for me. Okay?"

"Th… Th-That bad… huh?"

She could see how the burns scorched deep into the skin of his neck and up to his hairline, burning the hair around his ear to a crisp. As for the rest of him… "Just breathe…" The damage seemed to be restricted to one side of his body, but whatever he had been hit with burned hot and strong. The clothes that had survived the fire were left melted into his skin, the material fused into his burns. Even with his healing abilities, that was going to hurt.

Hope raised his uninjured hand to his face.

"I said just-"

Green radiated from his hand. His facial burns melted away, new skin webbing over the damage. Hope heaved a breath, almost gagging and Zalera watched with morbid fascination as the giant shard of glass lurched in his back before smoothly gliding out and slipping to the floor with a delicate tinkling sound that betrayed its lethality.

Good. That's out. But next is…

Zalera moved, ripping Hope's glove off of his hand and holding it in front of his mouth. "Open. The rest is going to royally suck."

Hope swallowed, but did as he was told. He began healing again and it was four breaths in when he inhaled sharply and cried out around the glove between his teeth. With excruciating slowness, the material of his uniform began to pop out of his wounds. The metal of a button sprang out, launching into the wall like a bullet. There was a squelch sound, and the top of his pouch slipped out of his side, the tip of one of the tools it contained following.

Hope breathed when it was over. Harsh, ragged pants shook his body. Zalera blinked, shuddering because for as mesmerizing as the healing process was, it was also incredibly disgusting. Other guards stood around the room, staring. One guard was staring at the button hole in the wall with a mixture of relief and terror.

"Don't you have jobs to do?" Zalera found herself yelling. She hated the staring. The judgement. "You're all lucky that he can do that or you would have a dead director and no jobs, you lazy ass holes!"

"Zalera," Hope protested weakly. "Don't call them that. They did fine. You all…" Hope heaved himself into a sitting position. It didn't hold as he fell over into Zalera. "You did fine. I'm alive, right?"

"How have you made it to the age of nineteen?"

"…"

"No wonder firefly has such a complex."

"Zalera?"

"Yeah?" she said through a put-out sigh wrapped in fondness.

"This isn't a dream, right?"

"…Right."

"I'm not going to wake up back in the ark?"

Zalera could feel her breath halt in her body, before she let it all out. "You're home, Hope. Right where you're going to stay."

Hope laughed. "I kind of wish it was a dream…"

"Hope?"

"Yeah?"

"This was Castea, wasn't it? She's alive."

Hope's silence was telling. She could hear it over the incoming sirens. The other guards drained out of the room. She heard one of them head off a medic on their way up. It was a gruff whisper, but she could still hear,

"…used some freaky healing shit and… gone. What a mon-"

She felt Hope's nod.

Zalera settled herself closer to Hope, held his head in the curve of her neck. Her fingers travelled over the crisp ends of the hair around his ear. "If she's still alive and after you, then she came back for one thing."

"To finish what she started."

Castea walked into the room, her steps lighter than they'd been in days. Purpose sat on her shoulders. It grew as she visited Hope, expanding every time she watched him from afar, toyed with his thoughts and whispered in his ears. He was a thorn in her side, a weakling with the future in his pathetic hands. For as much as she loathed his supposed 'potential,' she couldn't deny that he was the tool that would lead her to her future.

She looked down at her hands, still felt the combustion of fire as it lifted from her palms. Potent her magic had been, but Hope didn't deserve the crystal power if a firaja was enough to snuff him out. A warning was what she was sent to give, and what a warning it was. A shove in the right direction.

"How did it go?" Barsilisk asked. He stood at the entrance, expression placid.

Castea flashed him a pleased smile. "I hear we've been requested."

"It's never a request."

The two strode in deeper into the domain of their master, the home of their fal'Cie. Their steps echoed in the cavernous deep. The golden glow of crystal lit the walls along the way. Intricate carvings surrounded them, rough accounts of Pulsian history about the fire, death and destruction dealt by the powerful creature ahead of them. Their fal'Cie was a feared nightmare to the Pulsian populace, and Castea was proud to share a part of his terrifying history. She held a modicum of his power, had been trained by his hands. It was like staring up at her own lineage, knowing that one day she would inherit all that was his as his most devoted pupil.

The doors before them opened to a grand chamber. It smelled of death and rot. Orbs that stood like torches flickered to life, holding a purplish glow shaped like eyes peering through the glass. Skeletal remains were left strewn across the halls, bodies of previous adversaries left to decay and intimidate any incoming intruders. A colossal throne was carved into the far wall. A statue of a warrior sat upon it, its battle armor heavy and thick. Horns the size of adamantoise tusks protruded from its helmet. One hand gripped a scythe that stood at its side, the other resting on the arm of the throne. Two purple eyes glowed beneath the helmet.

"What is it that you require?" Castea asked as she and Barsilisk bowed before their master. Her master. Barsilisk had never acknowledged their fal'Cie with anything near that sort of sentiment or devotion.

A deep voice bellowed throughout the room, seeming to respond from nowhere and everywhere at once. "The boy. You have instilled fear within him. I can sense that. But will he kneel to such fear? The crystals beg for release."

"If you would have let me retrieve him, we could have forced-"

"He needs to seek them for himself. The will of the holder is crucial."

"His will?" Castea's head rose, and she stared up into pools of purple. "We need not ask permission. He is an instrument to be utilized, nothing more. I would gladly take-"

"Enough!" the fal'Cie bellowed, low and rumbling in a way that shook the skeletal remains. Castea snapped her mouth shut. "Watch yourself, child."

Castea hastily nodded, apology quick on her lips.

"We shall see what the results of your visit yields. If he does not begin to understand the urgency in obtaining the crystal shards, we shall resort to other methods. Perhaps our remaining captives shall do…"

One day. I'm gone for one day and this happens.

"I don't give two fucks what's going on in that room, I want to see him!" Lightning held up a fist, ready to pummel the guard standing in her way of getting to Hope. He was attacked and immediately whisked away into a meeting room? Why isn't he in the hospital? In a secure ward? Locked tight with five thousand men guarding the door? Why-

Why wasn't she ever there for him when it mattered?

"Lightning," Hope hissed as the door creaked open. He flashed an apologetic grin into the room before closing it quietly behind him. "That is only a meeting with Academia's highest officials in there."

"I could care less about the big wigs in that office right now. The upper crust of this city can eat my ass for all I care."

Hope put a finger to his lips, gently nudging her away from the room.

"Don't you dare manhandle me, Hope." Lightning moved to knock his hand away, but grasped at it instead. "You were attacked."

Hope's expression flickered at the handhold. "Yes. That is what we were discussing."

"Discussing," Lightning repeated, annoyed and incensed and topped off with disbelief. She used the handhold to pull him in closer, jerking him forward so she could inspect the damage.

"There's nothing to see." Hope pulled himself away with a breathy laugh. As if any of this was somehow funny. "I healed it already. I'm fine, okay?"

Lightning held herself back, crossing her arms to keep herself from knocking the idiocy out of him. "You're missing half an eyebrow."

"Yeah…" Hope wiped a self-conscious finger over the hairless skin, "that's unfortunate."

"You're shaking."

Hope stopped, eyes wide, and looked down at his hands. "Oh."

Lightning clicked her tongue at the flood of affection she felt. He was ridiculous. Using a wide smile to reassure everyone around him, always trying to make everyone else feel safe, secure, comfortable. Even when he was scared and shaking. "You were attacked, Hope. That's not something to take lightly."

"I'm not," Hope said, his voice scratchy like he was holding everything in. She supposed that that was expected of a director in order to assure his city and its populace. But Lightning wasn't just another civilian. "Trust me, I'm not."

Lightning reached for him.

There was a forced cough from behind Hope.

Lightning dropped her hand, looking to find Zalera standing behind Hope, the room's occupants filing out behind her. Lightning received looks ranging from disconcerted to offended to contemptuous. She matched each one with a bland, unaffected look in return.

"Best watch yourself." Lightning spun around to find Rygdea as he approached, his steps followed by Sazh and Harleen. "Could hear your complaints echoing through the halls," Rygdea whispered, patting her elbow as he passed by. "Hope, let's get this over with and get you resting, yeah?"

"Another meeting?" Lightning found herself shouting, before she toned herself down. "More egotistical assholes want to get their say in?"

"This one is more for me, Light." Hope smiled, but it was tight, pleading.

"Now that the room has cleared," Amodar stated with a pointed look darting toward Lightning, "we can shed our ties and have a more unofficial look at things."

Lightning ducked her head down. For as much as she didn't need approval from the high and mighty board, she still didn't like being scolded by a man that had once been her guardian. "Sorry," she said with a bow before following Hope into the room.

It was well into the night, but there they all were. Amodar, Hope, Lightning, Zalera, Sazh, Rygdea, Hildough, and Harleen stood and sat in different areas of the room. Hope still had a tremble to him, something he masked with the twittering of his fingers. Lightning stared hard at Zalera, biting her tongue. What she couldn't say in words yet, she shouted with her eyes. Zalera should have protected him. She should have taken the brunt of his attack as his guard.

"Castea's back," Hope croaked, filling in those that hadn't been included in the last meeting.

Lightning's stomach lurched. She had imagined another attempt from the Sanctum. A civilian from Academia unhappy with their director's new l'Cie status. At worst, another l'Cie flunky from Castea's fal'Cie's faction.

But… Her?

The woman that holds such power over Hope even now? The one that took him, strapped him down and watched as he was ripped apart?

Hope recounted his attack. The minute he finished, everyone began speaking at once, the room in an understandable uproar. Lightning stood close to Hope through all of it, her fingers rubbing over the back of his hand, her touch discreet, but meant to reassure. The voices stampeded over each other, words built from concern and anger and incredulity and confusion. Somehow, Harleen managed to make his voice stand out above them all.

"I've heard the rumors. This kid's head's been messed up since he got back. How do we know that this Castea wasn't just a part of his imagination? How do we know that he didn't-"

"Burn himself?!" Lightning snarled. "How could you even-"

Hope held up a hand, a look of indifference capturing his visage. "It's all right, Light. Nothing anyone says or does can ever change your mind, right, Harleen?" Sazh came up beside him and squeezed his shoulders, but Hope shook him off.

Harleen scowled as he straightened his posture, superiority in the stretch of his spine. "Watch how you talk to me, boy."

"Why? You gonna smack me around like you do your own son?"

Harleen stepped forward threateningly, but before he could make any moves both Zalera and Lightning snapped at him, a simultaneous, "Try it!" coming from them as they gripped their weapons.

Rygdea slammed his hand down on the meeting room table, regaining control of the room. "Y'all need to shut up. This isn't going to turn into some brawl. That is the last thing we need in the face of this." He ran a hand through his hair that already looked straggled from the habitual gesture of stress. "Let's figure out how she could still be alive."

"The Ark collapsed, right?" Amodar asked as he took a seat, his fingers rubbing his brow. "We sent a Cavalry team to do a thorough scope of the area. There was nothing left. The Eighth Ark caved in." Rygdea nodded in confirmation. "But let's say there was a way out. Maybe she didn't die and found a way through somehow." He turned toward Zalera and Hope, his words careful. "Were there any other exits besides the main one that you escaped through?"

"We wouldn't know." Zalera said, tone souring as she balked at the question. "We were prisoners! It's not like we were given a tour of the place!"

"No need to get snarky," Harleen replied. "It was just a question."

"Snarky? You little- Why are you even here? Why do get to know about-"

"Me?" Harleen pointed an accusatory finger toward her. "Why are you here? You're one of them. You're a Pulsian. You don't belong here."

Lightning could feel the rage emanating off of Zalera, and though Lightning was peeved at the woman for her mishandling of Hope's detail, she could understand wanting to rip the man's head off. Zalera looked ready to, her hand gripping her chakram with titanic-force.

"I think you need to calm down, Harleen," Hildough tried.

But the man proceeded regardless. "This girl is a stranger. For all we know, she could be working with them. Estheim was attacked on her watch, wasn't he? She could be a spy! Why should we trust this barbaric Pulsian?"

The Pulsian in question nearly jumped over the table to throttle the man, but was caught by Rygdea as he spoke. "Get out, Burien. If you are gonna spew your crap then-"

"How dare you," Zalera spat, her entire body quaking with rage. "'One of them', my ass. You have no idea what I've been through." Rygdea was struggling to hold the woman back and Harleen's sharp reply didn't help.

"Oh, yeah? Tell us more of your sob story, sweetheart."

That's it.

Lightning moved. She dodged around Hildough to get to Harleen's side before anyone could think to stop her. She swung her blade up, holding it beneath his chin, the sharp edge inches from the apple of his throat. "Say one more word. I dare you." Her eyes challenged his startled ones and he gulped. Harleen backed away and left the room, leaving a trail of disgruntled murmurs behind him.

"Okay." Rygdea released his hold on Zalera, her glaring at him as she shook herself off and stepped away. "Now, let's just focus, shall we? She's alive. We'll consider how later. Let's focus on why she's back. You two think that it's because of the crystals?"

Hope nodded while Zalera muttered, "Undoubtedly."

"So what do we do, then?" Amodar looked to Hope. "As I understand it, getting the crystals together would be as dangerous as constructing a world-obliterating bomb for the l'Cie, but what will they do if we don't follow orders? I'm sure it'll only get progressively worse as we ignore them."

"If we get the crystals," Rygdea asked as he leaned against the wall, "can we destroy them."

Zalera shook her head with a puckered expression before growling in the man's direction. "Are you insane? We aren't even sure how to put them together or if Hope can control it. Who knows if these god-created shards can be destroyed."

"Z, please take it down a notch." Hope shot her a look until she turned her fiery gaze to the floor. "They're only trying to find the best solution to this."

"No, Hope. How can you expect me to be quiet and calm? How are you?"

The room's occupants all fell into an uncomfortable silence. Lightning glanced at Hope's hands that were balled agonizingly tight and at how Zalera's body still shook with rage. Lightning knew that this affected them deeply and understood their opposition toward the crystal mission, but she wasn't going to let those monsters continue to torment Hope. "Tch, maybe we should try." She received a few stunned glances, but her focus was on Hope. "You can do this. I know you c-"

"We can't," Hope said sternly.

Her arms fell to her sides as confusion descended upon her brow. "Hope, they'll keep coming after you."

"It's me... or the rest of the world, Light. I have no choice."

The meeting finished out relatively quickly after that. Lightning felt her anger ebb and flow inside of her. Lava. Magma. Flowing and bursting. It was like there was this enormous pressure building up inside. There was no lid to contain it. No cover to hold it.

She was supposed to have time. To think. To process. Everything in their lives pushed them harder, time hastening until the world was on their backs. Time was never on their sides.

Hope was being pursued. He was in danger.

She could have lost him this time.

Words and intentions lost before she had a chance to find them.

The group trickled out of the room until there was only her and Hope and Zalera. Lightning couldn't look at the woman. Zalera's body was unmarred. She carried nothing of this incident on her and it wasn't right.

"Look," Zalera began, rubbing her arm as she stared at the door, "I'm going to-"

"What?" Lightning snapped. "What are you going to do, Zalera? You said you would protect him. You should have had half of your face burned off, not him!"

Zalera spun toward Lightning, body rigid, face contorted, her hair whipping hard enough that the beads clacked together.

"Back off." Hope spoke first. "She did what she could."

"If she'd done what she could, you wouldn't have been hurt. I-"

"It would have happened if you had been watching me too, Lightning."

Lightning knew that. It was easier to heave the blame onto Zalera. The one who was there. The one who had accepted the responsibility when Lightning shucked it away. Lightning didn't have a leg to stand on in this argument, but the resentment boiled inside of her.

"Castea was waiting for an opportunity. A time when all of our guards were down."

Lightning shook her head at Hope's certainty. "How do you know that she was waiting?"

"Since I've gotten back… I've been hearing her voice in my head." Hope held his voice tight in his throat. Lightning could hear the way his vocal chords seemed to collapse in around his words, making speaking hard, painful. They were being dragged out of him by sheer force of will. "I thought that it was just a part of the trauma, but it makes sense now. She's been messing with me almost since the day we escaped."

Lightning held her hand to her throat, pressing lightly like she could strangle herself for her lack of insight. Lightning had been there, right beside him, through so many nightmares, flashbacks, headaches, panic attacks. How many of them had been Castea? How many times was Hope attacked while Lightning held him and foolishly told him that it was going to be okay?

She felt stupid, powerless.

Paralyzed.

"I still don't understand," Zalera spoke up, resting a hip down on the meeting table. "She could have killed you."

Hope shrugged. "Better than nabbing me."

"If she wanted to A. announce to you that she was alive. B. intimidate you. Or C. put you back on track with her grand plan, why would she risk killing you?"

Lightning heard what the blast had done to Hope. She could see a patch of hair with blackened ends. He smelled like a beach bonfire gone wrong or the smoke after a firework crackled out its end.

"…Maybe she was testing me."

"What's to test?"

"I'm not strong enough to fight her. She made that clear. She could have been giving me a reason to bridge the gap. She wants me to get stronger in order to complete their focus?"

"I hate this," Lightning said to the floor. "Stop playing coy and fight us head on already."

"My sentiments exactly," Zalera replied.

"We would lose. That's," Hope pressed his fingers into his eyebrow, bounced them against his cheek, "the point."

Zalera swung herself back off the table, all long legs and grace and Lightning looked out the window as the Pulsian approached Hope.

"It's been a long day," Zalera said, making a clicking sound and her voice drifted farther. "I'll… leave you two to talk."

"Z?" Hope called out. "If there is anyone here who doesn't belong, it's him."

Lightning heard Zalera hum back, and then the door was closed.

Outside was a dreary scene. City lights smeared together with the runaway rain drops as they raced down the window pane. The glass was cold as she touched it, her hand leaving a frosty print behind. She could see Hope reflected behind her. He was staring at her back. His expression was as blurred as the outside.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're ever going to come back."

Lightning didn't mean to let that slip. She winced at herself, at the unchanging Hope in the window.

"I'm here." Hope walked around the table, coming up behind her and she could feel the heat of his body. Lightning briefly wondered how hot it was, being blown back by that flash of fire. She knew that heat, that panic, but she had always been shielded and healed by those hands. She felt an odd need to reciprocate. She turned around, her hand wavering as it came up to ghost around his face until Hope nuzzled down into it. "No matter how many times I'm pulled away, I'll come back. I'll always come back."

The side of Lightning's thumb brushed against the abrupt end of his eyebrow, down to slip over his eye, the curve of his nose. "This should settle it. This should give me my answer. Us getting closer… it complicates things beyond measure. I should be able to stay by you through anything. My emotions drove me from your side and I wasn't there to protect you."

Her thumb still moved, straying in the moment like those playful rain drops. Hope drew her thumb into his mouth, between his teeth, cushioning it with the pad of his tongue. His hands were on her shoulders. He had such impossibly large hands, kindness in their motions. Her thumb slipped out, drawing his saliva around his smile. "Emotions are also what lead you to care," Hope reasoned. "A guard has to care about their charge, don't they? They have to want them to live, to stay safe. They want to watch over them all of the time, stay near them, until they can't live without them."

Lightning hardened her voice. "I should say no." It was the smart decision, the logical choice. Lightning was the queen of practicality. Keeping things simple, painless. "I can't say no."

"Getting mixed signals here." Hope's chuckle was uneasy. Lightning pressed her hands against him to feel the vibrations in his chest.

"I can't ignore my feelings. We've walked too far into this for me to turn back now. I care for you. A lot. I'll see this through."

Hope rushed her with a kiss, pulling apart only to hold her close. His arms could hold her now, his strength enough to bear her weight. She had to trust that. He took her hands and held them. His eyes twinkled with delight and she could only laugh.

"We will see this through."

It was the feeling of the grass that softened her, rounded out her angry, jagged edges into smooth sides like a rock that was taken out to sea and given a new shape. She could still hear that man's accusations. They scraped her raw, made her wonder if Fara wasn't right about these people. Ugly, spiteful people. Zalera rewound those thoughts, erased them into oblivion. One man did not represent the entirety of the populace, not any more than Castea represented all of Pulse. She had to shake off such ill-conceived thoughts born of ignorance and a fear of the unknown.

That was why she laid in Hope's backyard, a garden so lush and vibrant with life that it wilted her impure thoughts before they could bloom. The grass beneath her was soft, tickling her fingers as she spread them out and slid them through the blades. Zalera sought refuge inside of this place, where the open air smelled of newly sifted dirt and flowering trees hung over her head. She was still on Pulse, even if Academia felt like a planet in another solar system, it was still a part of her home. She belonged there, just like anyone else.

The slide of the door came from behind her. The hush of approaching footsteps. "Hello, Hope."

"How'd you know it was me?" Hope's face popped up in front of her as he stood over where she laid in the grass.

"You're gait. You walk with timid… cautious steps. Lightning walks with purpose and confidence. Besides," Zalera shuffled herself over, patting the warm indent in the grass that signified her previous position, "I can smell your brand of angst from here."

"Gee, thanks." Hope plopped himself down. He wasted no time in taking a large whiff of the air, stretching a gloveless hand out where it could dip into the pond at their side. The water rippled around the intrusive digit, and Hope skated his finger along. The air shifted and a gust of wind rushed over them, pimpling Zalera's flesh and making Hope shiver. It roused the strands of Hope's hair, left it sticking up in the middle like chocobo floof.

Zalera laughed, sitting up to pat the spot down. She pulled her hand away when she felt charred strands. "I- ah-"

"Don't worry about it," Hope said, but she knew that he wouldn't take his own advice. He ruffled his hair back into place, patting a swoop over the crusty strands around his ear.

"I don't think I ever properly apologized for my lack of vigilance."

"You never have to."

"You shouldn't be left alone, Hope. Not with this level of a threat."

"Should I have climbed in the shower with you?" Hope grinned wide, face full of impish mischief and Zalera pushed him over.

"I don't think I'm the one that you want to be extending that invitation to."

Hope's face combusted. Zalera laughed heartily, like she hadn't in a while, while Hope stuck out sulking, pouty lips. "Yeah. Yeah. You're hilarious."

"How did things go with the firefly? Did I miss the fireworks?" His tiny, almost private smile was enough of an answer. "I did, didn't I? Congrats, Hope." Zalera swung an arm around his shoulders, yanking him into a side hug that squeezed some chuckles loose as he squirmed in her hold.

"You can't say anything. We… We're going to keep this between us for now. See where it goes from there."

Zalera side-eyed him. "That was Lightning's idea, wasn't it?" She watched as that bright expression of childish excitement dulled.

"I agreed to be… uh… accommodating?" Hope scratched the back of his head with a pinched shrug. "I don't want to push too much onto her."

"How gentlemanly of you," Zalera deadpanned.

Hope knocked his head against hers, let it rest there as he pulled his hands into his sleeves. "I don't want to be a mistake." His voice was quiet, the words splintering in a way that caused the shrapnel to tear into her heart.

"Lightning is an idiot," Zalera decided, but before Hope could stick up for her like she knew he would, she added, "but she's got good taste. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks." Hope wiped a hand over the squirm of his smile, before clearing his throat and giving her a back-to-business look. "Now, I need to ask you for a favor."

Lightning was in a sour mood. Every time someone so much as brushed against her, glanced her way, anything, she showed it with a deathly glare that had them switching to another area of the dress store.

Yeah.

She was stuck in a dress store.

A boutique, Lebreau kept emphasizing.

The store clerk held up a blue dress that might as well have been fishnet wrapped in glitter, smiling with her pink glossed lips as she approached Lightning. "I could never get away with something this stunning, but with that pear figure and those legs, you have got to try this on." The woman touched her, touched her, patting Lightning's thigh as she squealed, "O.M.G. I would kill for those thighs. You simply must give me the deets on your workout routine."

"I kill people."

Her giggling abruptly stopped, the look on her face priceless and it almost made the whole outing worth it.

Then she snorted, smacking her gum as she draped the fishnet over her arm. "You're such a kidder. We'll have to find something to accentuate that personality. Maybe this…"

Hell. She was in hell.

"I'm going to mutilate that man."

"Now, now," Zalera said, holding a purple dress up in the light before sneering and slipping it back on the rack, "save that for the honeymoon." Lightning scowled back. "Lighten up. You're not as scary as you think you are, Firefly. You can let go of your weapon now."

Lightning sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she wondered how she had been finagled into this. Dragged, was more the word. She'd been dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn by a perky, bubbly Lebreau. After almost cutting the woman's head off in her grouchy state, Lightning was informed by a highly amused Zalera that the three women were going off to find dresses for Harleen's soiree occurring that night. After much squabbling and struggling, the girls managed to heave Lightning out into the hideous world of the mall. Sneering at a particularly bright, fluffy and vomit-inducing dress, she felt her leg twitch toward the door in an urge to bolt. Or I could slice that monstrosity into a bunch of not-so-pretty bits. Yeah, no one would miss it.

"Calm down, Soldier Girl," Lebreau said as she passed. "It's not going to jump out and attack you. Although," she held her chin, staring it down, "I wouldn't put it past that dress. The way that chiffon is laid makes it look like it has teeth."

"I don't have time for this. I should be protecting H-" She was cut off by Zalera as she was spun around and pushed until she was shoved into the nearest dressing room.

"Hope is fine. He took the day off and is having some man time with Rygdea, Sazh, Maqui and Yuj."

"What men?" Lightning grumbled as dresses ranging from hideous to torturous were flung into her face.

"He'll be fine. Besides, this'll be quick and painless if you stop resisting. You'll only be wearing the thing for a few hours so shut up and pick."

"I don't do dresses. Why can't I wear my damn uniform? That's the reason I'm going. To protect him."

Zalera rolled her eyes before stomping into Lightning's dressing room and snapping the curtain shut. "You should be going as Hope's date. But since you're such a coward, you're going as his guard. To make it up to him, and me, you can at least look pretty."

"I'm still going to slaughter him for telling you."

"Whatever, Lightning. You can't wear your uniform because this shindig is designated as formal, at least that's what Lebreau said. Even the protective detail will wear tuxedos. Hey. That's an idea. Why don't you just wear a tux," suggested Zalera, snickering. "I'm sure you'll attract loads of attention then, just like you like."

Lightning stared murderously at the curtain, knowing Zalera was right. She was going to relent, but Zalera just had to keep running her mouth.

"Besides, don't you want to see the look on Hope's face when you descend his staircase, looking all delectably gorgeous? He'll want to jump you right-"

"Shut it, Zalera," Lightning shouted before lowering her tone at the quiet of the store. "You know about us. Great. Now can you zip it?"

"You know what? No. I won't zip it. I can't believe that you're acting like such a child about this. You, the big shot soldier that everyone talks about as this great and courageous being. I don't know what sap they've been licking because you look pretty fucking small from where I'm standing."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Zalera tilted her head, regarding Lightning like she'd grown a third eye. "This man is sweet and loving and deserves a real damn relationship with the person that he loves. What does he get instead? A relationship that he has to lie about and hide as if it were so fucking surreptitious that no one would understand. Shit, how can you be so cold? He loves you, truly head-over-heels loves you and you can't man up to let others know that you share a sliver of those feelings? You act as if you're ashamed."

"Ashamed-?" Lightning shoved the pile of dresses off of her, kicking one back as it stuck to the zipper of her skirt. She squared herself up to Zalera, face to face. "You don't know me. You don't know us. Save your judgements for someone who cares."

There was a twinge of something that flexed in Zalera's cheek before she narrowed her eyes and dove back in. "You ever stop to think about how much courage it took for Hope to tell you that he loves you? That maybe he doesn't feel like he deserves you."

Lightning recoiled, stepping back. "Ridiculous," she muttered, shaking her head and asserting, "Hope deserves the world. That's… That's nonsense."

"Is it? After what we went through… I know that I feel too weak, too mutilated, too disgusting to be desired. Think about how he must feel."

Lightning's heart shrunk inside of her chest, hiding beneath her ribs like an animal crawling back in shame. This was exactly what Lightning was talking about, Hope deserved better than her. Better than this half-assed attempt, her tiptoeing into a river that was already flowing full speed. But she was trying. Didn't that count for anything?

Zalera stood her ground, hands flexing in and out of fists in a show of obvious frustration. Why did she care? What did it matter to her the intricacies of Lightning and Hope's relationship?

Zalera's words were sharp, biting down and ripping apart Lightning's defenses. "I can't believe that after everything you've been through, with all that's against you two, and with what's after him, that you would waste the precious time that you have together."

Lightning went silent through most of the trip, resigned to every dress that the store clerk thought accentuated her 'pear body,' whatever that meant. Zalera stuck to her own side of the store, their conversation closed as they pretended to be amicable after their confrontation in the dressing room. Zalera's words buzzed around inside of her head like a wasp, stinging the insides of her ears so they would swell and all she could hear were her assertions. Echoing on stereo. Was it really so wrong for her to want to keep her private affairs private? Hers and Hope's love lives were nobody else's business. They didn't need to parade it in front of the world.

Zalera said that she was acting ashamed. Was that it? Was she ashamed to be with Hope? Was she ashamed to admit her feelings to people who could misunderstand, judge their bond, and condemn them for feelings that were no longer innocent? Although her original reasons for denying Hope had been copout excuses, they had merit. Just months before, Hope had been fourteen in her eyes. He was an adolescent boy that hung on her every word. A tiny thing that called her mom in his sleep. He was nineteen now, but the thought made Lightning feel dirty.

What of him being her boss? Work relationships were known to be messy, complicated affairs. Between prioritizing work over emotion, forgiving the power dynamics, and not letting their professional and personal lives bleed into each other, it could prove to be a difficult challenge. It was a little late to worry about that, though. The feelings were there, already blending who they were to each other in every aspect of their lives.

Lightning knew what people used to call her behind her back. The Frigid Bitch. The Scarecrow. She was a ball buster to anyone who got in her way or questioned her work. She didn't hesitate to deny a come-on and then beat the guy down a peg when he wouldn't take no for an answer. She liked to scare away attention before it could manifest into attraction. Such actions left Lightning as the last person that anyone would expect a relationship from. It made her wonder if this was less about being ashamed, and more about swallowing her pride.

When the shopping was settled, Lebreau headed off in her own car. Zalera and Lightning stood on the curb, silent.

"Sorry I was so harsh back there," Zalera said, a tad stiff in her execution. Lightning couldn't tell if she was truly apologetic, or didn't want to let the silence settle.

"No. As much as I don't think that this is your business, you were right. To some extent. I guess it boils down to… lack of experience? I don't know how to be a good girlfriend." Lightning shrugged a shoulder, like it didn't royally piss her off. She toed her boot into the asphalt as if she were stomping the admission into the ground. "Saying the word feels wrong, childish. And acting that way… vulnerable in front of others…"

"Seems Hope has already mastered that, huh?"

"Talk about intimidating," Lightning mumbled, watching a couple across the street. It was like watching Serah and Snow. The girl was hanging from the guy's arm, laughing as she pulled him along. He followed after, holding on tight and beaming like an idiot.

"The sandal is on the other foot."

"If you're so knowledgeable about this relationship stuff, then what's your advice? What do I do now?"

"Easy." Zalera shoved their bagged dresses into Lightning' arms. She walked up to the edge of the curb, the tips of her boots hanging over. Her hands settled on her hips as she stood in a superman pose. "Stand on the tallest building and scream out your undying affection for your man." She heaved in a breath, putting her hands around her mouth as she yelled out, "I LOVE YOU, HOPE ESTHIEM!"

Lightning felt her eyes bug out of her head. There was a hush from the crowd around them as they stood by a fountain outside of the mall, where there were many, many, many people out enjoying the late spring weather. The looks she got from passersby were awkward to receive to say the least. Lightning thought to duck inside one of the dress bags in her arms, if it wouldn't make them look more ridiculous than they already did.

"I don't know why I expected anything different."

Zalera laughed, bending over to hold her stomach. She had a laugh that didn't fit her character, high and giggly. It was silly - the way it rolled out of her, making her body jerk uncontrollably. Irritating, when it was at Lightning's expense. "I can't imagine you doing that. Hope… Yeah, I can see him doing that." She wiped a tear from her eye, and fake as the announcement was, there was a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

But she did it.

"That's the point, isn't it?"

"What's the point?"

"Nothing. Take these before I toss them into traffic."

"I'm joking. Jo-king! You don't have to go that far. Make him feel loved, cared for. Spend some time with him. Do… coupl…ley things with him."

"Such as?"

"What does he like to do?"

"I… don't know."

Zalera's face ran blank. She didn't say anything, but Lightning could feel her stare. And the stares of those people that had gawked at a shouting Zalera. Even the beep of the crosswalk felt intrusive, too loud and overbearing, like it was the sound of her own patience wearing thin. "You're dating and you don't know what he likes to do in his spare time?"

"What spare time? He works! He reads. He apparently gardens, but I don't know if that's a genuine hobby or if it's to help him feel closer to his mother. I… don't think he takes time for himself." Lightning's hands moved from where she had her arms crossed to where they held onto her arms, the air thinning into a chill. Or maybe that was just her imagination. "I'd like to change that."

"Have anyone you can ask?"

Lightning's eyes walked themselves up the street, down toward a very familiar path. "Unfortunately, I know just the person."

Lightning wanted to ask anyone else. Sazh, Rygdea, Maqui, Alyssa, anyone else that knew Hope. But Lightning knew that Cass was the right choice. He knew Hope before and after the fall. Hope kept everyone at arm's length now, but Cass knew him from before he did that. Cass was an obnoxious twerp, but he cared about Hope. He would want to help him if Lightning asked.

At least, she hoped so.

Plan b was to beat any details out of the kid if she had to…

"His place is just up the block. He can be a bit mouthy," Lightning warned, turning and looking at Zalera as she trekked behind. "Ignore his salacious nature and the smell and you'll be fine."

"He a friend or that cheap, flirtatious uncle that you avoid at gatherings?"

Lightning snorted. She could see Cass' future now. Should she fear for Kori's future children?

Nah.

"Somewhere in between."

The door to his apartment was ajar, and it didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong. Lightning flicked out her weapon, glancing toward Zalera to find that she was similarly armed and alarmed, tossing their dresses over the outside railing. Lightning prodded a testing finger at the door. It swayed easily. She shouldered it open, movements slow, senses heightened. The living room was dark, dank, smelling like cheap booze and rotten food. That was a smell that Lightning was familiar with. The blinds were closed, thin threads of sunlight the only light. Lightning stepped around a pile of liquid gunk to peek further inside.

The place was trashed. Furniture upended. The television smashed in. Books torn from shelves as if a bluster of wind had shot through. Game consoles had been torn from the wall socket with one plug sputtering out sparks. The walls had deep gouges in them, crumbled drywall and splintered wood littering the carpet. Food and broken plates and open beer cans were strewn under foot.

Lightning's first instinct was to split up and check the rest of the apartment. She had to check if Cass was present and alive. The man was loose with the rules when it came to housekeeping, but this looked like an attack. There was a shift in sound that made Lightning freeze. She held a hand behind her back, signaling Zalera's attention. The couch. There was someone behind the couch.

Lightning took a step towards the couch, her gunblade ready to strike down whomever the coward in hiding was. Just as her finger wavered over the trigger, a man sat up swiftly, his triple-barrel revolver trained on her.

Lightning's finger eased off, but not before a chakram flew past. It landed with a deafening shickkkk a few millimeters from the man's ear, a sharp spike embedded into the wall. With wide violet eyes, the man's head turned to look at the weapon, his nose kissing the metal. He deflated. His arm fell, gun tumbling to the floor. "Honestly. Remember, ladies. Violence isn't the answer."

"Cass," Lightning sighed. Her look searched him, his eyes, asking if they had company, if she needed to be on guard for any threat. He answered with a roll of the eyes, so Lightning sheathed her weapon.

"Well, don't you look like death," Zalera said, and it wasn't an inaccurate statement. The bags under his eyes were a testament to long nights either gaming or reading, but the bruising around his eye and beneath his jaw was deep enough to spot in the darkness of his apartment. His lip was split, cheek swollen to where it morphed the shape of his words.

"I thought women were supposed to be into the rugged look."

Zalera walked her way around the mess, tugging her chakram free from the wall with a disinterested glance in Cass' direction. She paused before bending and Lightning could see the outline of Cass' gun in her hand. There was a heft to it, with the way it weighed down Zalera's hand. Not the weapon that Lightning would have picked for a person such as Cass.

"You smell like an Alchemic Ooze," Zalera said, a gagging quality to her voice. "When was the last time you bathed?"

"Whatever, I'm still the finest thing your eyes have ever seen. Cutting it a little close, huh, babe?" Cass rubbed at his ear, like he was protecting it from the strike that could have been.

"You think I missed you by accident?" Zalera dropped his revolver unceremoniously and Lightning heard the oomph as it hit him. "Sorry, that hurt?"

"If this wasn't the biggest turn on of my life."

"What happened?" Lightning asked. With Cass' family history, Lightning suspected the boy's father. Lightning shifted, hearing a crack. She moved her boot to find a cracked picture frame holding a photo of Cass and Kori. No, with this kind of structural damage, that was unlikely. His Sanctum contacts, maybe? Hope and Nivien were both convinced that Cass was sniffing closer and closer toward something deadly. There was a part of her mind that thought that this could be Castea's work. The timing between this and Hope's attack seemed too coincidental. Lightning didn't believe in coincidence.

Cass slid himself up the wall, his weight held against it. Despite the awkward way he was holding himself, he smirked. "You know me, just can't resist a good time."

"Some tramp you hook decide to exact revenge when she saw how little you had to offer?" Zalera mused.

"Wow, she has a sense of humor. Two women with brains, brawn, humor, and unbelievable sexiness. Man, Hope doesn't know what he has."

"Still a pervert, I see," Lightning accused.

"Still such a prude, I see." Cass winked before picking up his weapon and sliding it into the back of his pants. He sat himself on the peak of the overturned couch, foot sinking into the hole in the fabric. "Seeing as I apparently welcome unannounced guests in my home, come on in. Have a seat."

"What's going on-"

Cass waved a hand, brushing off Lightning's concern. "Like I said, just a good time gone better. This is what happens when a party's done right."

Lightning didn't buy it for a minute. "If this has anything to do with who's after Hope, then you best explain."

"I heard what happened. I'm glad Hope's all right, but don't think that everything is about Hope. Your world may revolve around him, but that doesn't mean that mine has to."

The way that Cass phrased that, with a cocked head and shallow notes to his voice, made Lightning question what she was doing there. Was this really the guy that grew up with Hope? That knew him in ways only a best friend would? That stated, with a sniffly nose and reverence on his breath, that he looked to Hope like a brother?

"Mmm, a particularly frosty glare. How I have missed those. I assume you two didn't decide to swing by simply for my company. So what do Wonder Woman and tall, green and exotic want with little old me?"

Lightning could hear her patience ticking, each second that passed clenching her nerves in a vice. "Hope-"

"I could have guessed." Cass sat back on a hand, kicking his legs against the couch underbelly. "The prince is on everyone's lips. Heh. I suppose that's a literal thing for you."

"What's your problem?" Lightning snapped. Cass was a monstrous runt on a good day, but this disdain dripping from his words, his tone, his posture. Lightning didn't like it.

"Looks like good, old-fashioned jealousy, to me," Zalera interjected.

"Jealousy?!" the both of them squawked. Lightning's head whipped back around to look at an affronted, yet interestingly flustered Cass.

"…"

Zalera might have been on to something.

"You're jealous of him?" Lightning asked, certain pieces fitting together. "You… you want to be like Hope?"

"Woah!" Cass cut a hand across his throat, the movement so sudden that it offset his balance on the couch. He slipped off, landing clumsily on the side of his ankle before he recovered. "Woah. Woah, there. I never said that I was jealous."

"Your frantic and adamant objection says otherwise," Lightning remarked, lips lifting at the boy's pout.

"And I never said that I want to be like him."

"Some people just aren't honest about their feelings." Zalera swung her chakram back into her back straps, her glance swaying between them.

"Who asked you?" they both shouted.

"ANYWAY!" Cass yanked the beanie from his head, itching behind an ear. "What… What do you need from me concerning Hope?"

Lightning noted how Cass' fingers ran around the rim of his beanie before he swirled it around his finger. He set his shoulders back, posture sagging. It was like meeting him for the first time. He looked like a punk without a care in the world. She could only wonder how much of it was an act.

How much of his life was an act.

Hope needed her attention.

"Information."

Cass clicked his tongue. His gaze strayed to the wall, then down to the floor where a broken clock laid. "Alyssa can't help you with that?"

"I suspect that Alyssa's knowledge is limited. She knows Hope only in an official capacity. She was clear about his boundaries concerning their interaction."

"Hope had the stones to set boundaries? Color me shocked. Impressed, really. I thought he was going to put up with her longing looks and the pathetic pawing forever. So does this mean that you want to know more about Hope in an… unofficial capacity? The down and dirty? Behind closed doors? Boxers or briefs? His preferred position?"

"God, you are disgusting."

"Don't act like you haven't thought about it."

"You sound like you've thought about it," Zalera snarked.

"Don't insult our bromance. It is a pure, untainted love, you nasty."

"I want him to relax," Lightning yielded, much louder than intended and with a pulse of repressed energy. Christ, she wanted this conversation over with before it started. "He needs to take more time for himself. I need to know what he likes to do. His hobbies. His interests. Anything. Just. For once in your life be forthcoming with information without being an ass about it."

The spinning beanie stopped. Half a minute passed. Along with another glance at the broken clock. "… I guess I could do that." Cass itched at his cheek, only to wince as he grazed a swollen, golf ball-sized bruise. "Nivien and I used to drag him out to parties, but he never seemed comfortable in those settings. Dancing, drinking, flirting – none of it was his scene. He's the type that throws himself into his work and doesn't know what to do with himself afterwards. It's frustrating, right? He has to help people like he's racing against time. In the old days, Hope spent a lot of his time with his mom. He learned to cook and sew and garden from her. She taught him basic carpentry and car maintenance, how to manage money and trade stocks. Hope was sheltered, but Nora made sure he would grow up to be self-sufficient."

There was a sharp pang in Lightning's chest. It was no wonder that Hope loved his mother so much. She was everything that a mother could be. Everything that her own mother was not.

"He was a reader. Not, like, fiction or fantasy stuff, but. Technical books. Medical books. Nonfiction. The stuff that puts normal kids in comas out of boredom. He collected boomerangs, tweaked and customized them. Won a couple awards back in the day. The nerdiest of awards for boomerang schematic shit, but he was into it. The thing… The thing that put him at ease the most, I think," Cass said, all serious and earnest as he matched Lightning's concentrated gaze, "was his violin. I only ever caught him playing once – one time because it was a weirdly private thing for him and I was undeserving of listening and he put it away as soon as he caught me and never talked about it. Still, it was… I don't know, he looked the most himself. If that makes sense."

It did. Oddly enough.

"Thanks, Cass."

"We may not be as close as we used to be, but… take care of him, please. Hope shares himself with a select few. He trusts you. Rely on that more than any information I've given you."

Lightning stared back at Cass. His broken face. Torn clothes. Tornadoed apartment.

She should lend a hand to help.

She didn't.

Cass didn't know how to feel as the door swung closed. As he sat in his wreck of a home, against a couch that could no longer hold its shape. Despite his misgivings, he gave the best advice he could, unloaded the most valuable information he had about Hope into Lightning's hands. Hope was damned lucky to have people like Lightning in his corner. People that would do anything for him for nothing.

Jealous…

Cass' jovial smile fell, and he laughed a little at himself.

Glass shattered as heavy feet trampled over the leftovers of Cass' possessions. Cass looked up, his hand hovering between his pocket and the back of his pants. "You wait in the shadows any longer and you're going to be mistaken for a creeper, Waynes."

Waynes emerged from the bedroom, ringed fingers clicking as they tapped against his thigh. "Here I thought you liked that in an admirer."

"Nah. I like my stalkers to be old fashioned. Standing outside my window with a boom box and shit."

"Expecting any more visitors that I should know about?"

"Because I was expecting them."

"Hmph, women of their caliber in your company. A waste, I'd say."

Cass tossed his scoff back at him. "You think they should be breaking down your door?"

Waynes gave a gruff sound just short of offended. "They will do worse next time. You know that."

"I can take worse. What else do I have to lose?" Cass jutted out his chin, pretending to root out trash from beneath his upended furniture, his hand edging closer to his concealed weapons as Waynes edged closer to real threats.

Cass watched as the tip of Wayne's loafer nudged his fallen picture frame. "Too much."

"You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't. No. Me getting these dirty?" Waynes held up his hands, meaty, hairy things. Probably stained with more blood than Cass had in his entire body. "You must be crazy."

"You can leave now."

"You chose this path, Leonald. Remember why you made this commitment in the first place. Remember how you felt all those years ago. Abandoned. Betrayed. Forgotten. Alone."

"I get it! Now leave."

Waynes did just that. The door closed, but didn't click shut. There was nothing there to catch. Cass pulled his gun from his pants, considered sticking it in his mouth and letting a bullet tear the fowl thoughts out. The reminders. Those feelings. Instead he set the revolver down, and shuffled off to find wherever the hell he kept the broom.

"I'll prove how little you are. This time, I won't be the one left in the dark."

Castea stood atop a building, watching the city ants walking below. In her mind's eye, she could see her plan working perfectly. Hope seeking and retrieving the crystals - him piecing the fragments together - the world ripping itself apart and all life disintegrating into nothing as Bhunivelze graced the planet with his presence - a new world born from this one's ashes. If only Hope would cooperate. After everything Castea had done in her life, after everything she'd worked toward, she wasn't going to let a man get in her way. The defiant brat should know by now that I am not one to be trifled with. I swear, if he weren't so important, I would have gutted him ages ago.

Sebastian came up behind her. She could hear the hesitation in his footsteps, the wisps of a disappointed sigh. "Lady Hidon."

"Have you located the Pulsian, yet? The one with ties to Zalera?"

He shook his head as she turned toward him. He bowed his head, speaking toward the ground. "We almost had him, trekked him across the Steppe, but we lost his trail. We think he attached himself to another tribe."

Castea put her finger under his chin. There was no resistance as she lifted his head, met his eyes. "Do not fret, darling. I didn't expect you to have collected him yet, but he could prove useful in the future. Find him. I'm not sure what measures we'll have to take to get the young Estheim moving..." She paused and turned to peek down at more ants as they resurfaced. Her smile stretched as pink and green came back into sight. "But my patience is wearing thin."