A/N: I am a happy beaver. My FFXIII mask finally came! I get to wear my ship on my face! And that is a weird sentence, now that I'm reading it out loud…

Thanksgiving is almost here, and wow wasn't it just Halloween? One minute I'm styling my nephew's Sora wig (it looked too much like Goku out of the package) and now I'm a slave to the stove. Keeping thanksgiving small and immediate family only, but still. I have to do all of the cooking myself now.

Guest review replies:

Elendyr – Thank you! It can be kind of tough to fit a little humor into all of the angst and action, but I try. I love possessive Lightning, especially when she lets it show. And nope, it was/is Castea. That mind-diving thing is one of her special talents, after all.

Her mind felt stuck, bogged down beneath the shore. Her sight was filled with a white foam, like the bubbly froth that headed a tide. She could smell nothing, feel nothing except this heaviness that sunk her down. The foam grew, waves crashing overhead. She drifted. Tired. She felt tired, slipping away into that ocean deep. Her pulse slowed. Her eyelids flickered.

Was this it?

Was this death?

Being swallowed up in a wave that could not be fought or controlled, only yielded to?

Above it all she could see a giant ball of red and orange and purple rising higher and higher in a burgeoning sunrise. The colors bled, cool, yet vibrant.

There was enough light to fill the world.

Light.

"Light."

"Light!"

There was a twittering chirp sound, followed by the guttural yawn of a foghorn like she had been swept up onto the shores of a lighthouse. She hadn't. Lightning could feel herself, crouched down, hands clenched around her ears, blood dripping onto her boot. She was in the stasis room, with its metal floors and walls and ceiling, its recycled, lukewarm air and the living reminders of her failures and hopes. The Academy alarm was sounding. Boots trampled around her. Words. Words were being spoken.

"…geant? Sergeant, -re you…?"

She was being moved. Side to side. Shaken.

"Some… medic in he-…"

"…happened?"

"The threat? I don't… vanished… radar."

"…'am? Ma'am? Sergeant?" Branches broke above her. No. There were no branches in the stasis room. Snapping. There was snapping. Fingers were in her face. "… to help… okay? Nod… understa-."

Lightning tried to bob her head forward and back. She didn't know if it worked.

"Sergeant!" Another person, loud in her ear. "What… to you? …describe…-ttacker…"

"Step back! ...condition to speak…"

"We need to know the situation! The director could be in danger."

Hope…

"Are we sure the intruder isn't still in the building?"

"You think there was only one?"

"Get out of my way so I can help her. You can interrogate her all you want after I am through."

Words were beginning to sift together, full sentences congealing. Faces became clearer, edges of bodies and objects sharpening. The words swirled. Orders and questions and whispers and warnings, they were chaotic and nauseating. "Shut up," Lightning could hear herself utter, a scream in her throat that came out like a mouse's squeak.

"What happened?"

"I need more men on the perimeter, now!"

"Why hasn't she moved?"

"Is that… blood?"

"Vale! Dreifus! I need this building cleared. Put an evacuation order in place. All rooms are to be searched. They can't have gotten far."

"Sergeant Farron, can you-"

"Shut up!" Lightning shouted, and this time it roared over everyone else. The room tipped and turned and tilted. Her body fell forward. She didn't try to stop her fall. Maybe the waves would catch her.

"Light!"

Something caught her. Someone. Green. All she could see was green.

"Hope?"

"Hey. Hey, there." His voice was unsteady. Rife with concern.

It made her want to wretch.

"Director. You were to stay put."

Ah. There's a booming voice I can recognize.

"What if this was a distraction?" Amodar asked. Lightning could hear his anger, knew his tolerance for disobedience. "They could be after you."

"Then I guess you all better work to guard me then," Hope snapped back. "I'm not leaving her. That's final."

Lightning blinked at the authority in Hope's voice, sitting up in his arms. People surrounded them. Soldiers, guards. Zalera stood warily behind Hope. "Get your ass to safety, Hope," Lightning commanded.

"You first," he parried. Turning his eyes away, Hope looked to his security crew. "Status report? Wait. How did this start?"

The group fidgeted under Hope's stare. Then a finger poked uncertainly into the arm of a petite brunette. She jolted with a squeak.

"Officer Mires?"

"U-Um. I'm in charge of section 3-32 of the monitors. That… i-includes room 402. I saw Sergeant Farron talking… heatedly? with a woman and passed it off as a quarrel. Farron pulled her weapon. She fired. Then she stopped. She wasn't moving. The other woman-"

"The unidentified intruder," Amodar corrected.

"R-Right. The unidentified intruder came closer. I could see the sergeant's distress. When she started bleeding, I gave the signal. My superior sounded the a-alarm. He recognized the intruder."

"Castea," Zalera rasped.

Hope's hold tightened on Lightning, near bruising. "Finish the evacuation. Clear any civilians along the perimeter. Comb every inch of the building. If she's anywhere within the area, I want her found. NO ONE make a move. You see her, call it in. She's far too dangerous to take on."

Soldiers scattered in response to Hope's booming command. Lightning could feel the rumble of it through his chest, along with the shaking of his spine. The room drained out, and Lightning could breathe, an unexpected spike of claustrophobia easing.

"She's gone," Zalera asserted, looking down at the two of them. Her chakrams were in her hands, ready despite her words. "She accomplished what she set out to do." She met Lightning's eyes, and Lightning caught her meaning. They kept Sebastian's attack from Hope, but Castea found a way to use her all the same. Zalera shook her head, stalking off after the rest of the soldiers.

"Be okay," Hope whispered, almost to himself. He held Lightning closer, when it was just them, sitting alone. She could feel his lips on her scalp, his chin in her hair. Whispers of comfort.

Lightning hissed a breath as she held her head, sitting forward.

Get yourself in shape, Director, Lightning thought to tease. To pry the worry and fear from his features.

She couldn't get the words out past the glob of emotions clogging her throat.

"Castea…" Hope's eyes searched along Lightning's body. His hand felt along her face, but was denied with a tilt of her head away from him. Hope swallowed, and it sounded so loud in that empty room. "Did she…? Are you…?" He couldn't seem to settle on a course of conversation. His voice was crackly. Gone was the stern toughness of a leader. In front of her was the lost boy that had her back despite his fear. "It's my fault. I'm so-."

"No… apologies."

"I-"

"I swear, Hope... if you apol- apologize to me, I'm gonna hit you." Lightning made to stand. She stumbled, unsteady. Hope's hands reached to assist. Lightning slapped them away. "I'm fine. Let me… do this."

Hope relented, unhappily. He stayed by her, waiting in case she needed him. She always needed him. "She won't get away with this," Hope declared, chest puffed out, determination igniting a green fire in his eyes.

"No, she won't. That's for sure."

"You want to tell me what happened?" His tone was soft, hiding the command in a question.

"Nothing."

"Lightning."

"Honestly. I couldn't- It was nothing."

"Sergeant Farron."

Don't you Sergeant Farron, me. Not after what you've kept from me.

But he had every right to know. As their commander. As the target.

"It was black. That's all I can tell you. She made it so I couldn't move and then… shut down my mind, or something. That's all. One moment, I was talking to her. The next, I was being bombarded by alarms. That's it. Nothing."

Hope's skeptical gaze traveled over her, then the room. "Then why do you look so…"

Pissed? Terrified? Nauseous?

"…unbalanced?"

"How am I supposed to look? I couldn't get a hit on her. Not one. I told you that I would… I swore that I would… It doesn't matter now."

"How can it not?"

"She wants you! She's using me to get to you." Lightning ran a hand beneath her nose, wiping at the crusting blood. She spat some of it to the side. "It won't work. I don't care what she throws at me. She will not have you."

Hope's expression hardened. "You can't make my decisions for me."

"I damn well can. When it comes to your safety and well-being, I can. Now…" Lightning rolled her shoulders back, kicked her boots down on the ground one at a time, finding her footing. "Stay with your guards. Be with Zalera and Amodar. I can trust them. I need… to recalibrate, or something like that."

"You shouldn't be alone."

"I won't be," Lightning lied. Alone was exactly what she needed. It was what she got as she stood in the middle of her living room, unmoving, staring at the lamp on her side table. Her skin felt cold, wet, like she was still being swept beneath the tide.

"Please…"

Lightning could feel the terror in that word. Quaking through her chest, cascading down her spine.

"…don't do this… please…"

Hope was laying on a stone slab, bound and bleeding. There were tear tracks evident on Hope's dirty cheeks. Tears that had long since dried up, replaced with dry, desperate pleas from scabbing lips. The binds were tight on his body, tight enough that it was difficult to tell where Hope ended and the leather began, nearly fused into his skin. His body was caked with blood, wounds oozing pus and burns that had bubbled the skin. Left untreated, the wounds shifted with Hope's movement, causing him to shriek in excruciating pain.

Sebastian stood over Hope, surveying his work, tool in hand. Sebastian held his knife like it was an artist's brush, a cherished instrument ready to unfurl his imagination. Sebastian looked at Hope like he was his canvas. The knife edged closer, and Sebastian leaned down, eyeing Hope's brutally burned, infected chest. With fascination in Sebastian's eyes, dread in Hope's, the blade whispered through the yellow ooze until it sunk in, filleting Hope's skin.

Hope screamed.

Lightning's stomach heaved as she emptied it into the toilet before her. She gripped onto the seat, forehead kissing porcelain, losing the contents of her breakfast as the memories coursed through her brain like they were her own. Castea had asked her if she wanted to know, and now she did. Lightning witnessed dozens of moments just like that one. They shredded her previous pleas for knowledge apart.

It was real now. No more mystery. No more wonder. Hope had been right about the knowledge increasing her guilt. It drew her into herself, her body curling up against the shower doors.

Are you happy now? You know. You got to see what happened to the man that you claim to care for but can't protect. You can't even protect yourself.

Swiftly, Lightning turned, her fist harshly connecting with the wall behind her. Her punch barely left a dent in the tile, but she could feel the popping of her knuckle, watched the blood seep through the finger holes of her gloves. It stung, but it didn't matter. Her own pain was irrelevant.

It always was.

Hope remained confused in the wake of Lightning's departure. She had just been attacked, left injured, dazed, yet she stalked off by herself. A wounded tiger ready to-

What? Die alone?

Lightning can't die. She's invincible.

She's human.

Her face had been softened by vulnerability, dampened by despair as she laid in his arms. Hope couldn't guess at what transpired to let Castea put that look on Lightning's face. Hope wanted to follow Lightning, have her back like he was always supposed to.

But… did he have a right to? Wasn't this his fault?

"This can't continue."

Amodar, Rygdea and Hope all sat in Hope's office, waiting on a status report of the search. Hope had already given up on waiting, knowing that there was nothing to find. Castea was gone, no trail left unless she wanted them to find it. The cameras would see nothing, the soldiers would find nothing unless Castea wanted them to.

"I think we all share that sentiment, Hideo," Rygdea replied softly, and it was a rarity to hear Amodar's given name used. "The only question we face is how to stop this."

"Castea can get to anyone," Hope murmured, his thumb swiping across the photo frame on his desk. "Anyone."

Amodar ran a hand down his face, fingers tugging tiredly at pudgy cheeks. "It's a security issue and an intel issue, but no matter this woman's abilities we can't allow her to continue her activities, whatever they may be. Her attacks will only escalate."

Escalation.

Hope turned in his chair, gazing out through the blinds to see the city. If this continued, more people would get hurt and killed. Families would be torn apart. Parents left childless. Children orphaned. A home destroyed. Destinies forever changed. "And the past repeats itself." There were no good answers. No good solutions. "The only strategy we have is to stall. We don't have enough knowledge about Castea, her group or her fal'Cie. We have no idea where their hideout is. We lack any form of control. With our less than stellar military might, I doubt we could stand a chance in a head-on battle. Stalling is our only option."

"What good'll that do?" Rygdea asked.

"There isn't another way," Amodar agreed. "We have to endure everything these mongrels throw at us until we attain more information."

Find their weakness and take them out. Everyone has a weakness, right? Even her…

"I have Maqui and Cass leading a research team," Hope said, swiveling back toward the two. "They will comb through all books, scrolls, files, anything that may help us understand and fight this threat."

"If there isn't a way, what then?" inquired Rygdea. Hope could feel the man's eyes glued to his forearm, staring far past his coat sleeve to the core of their problem. Did Rygdea have to do this? Did he have to question everything and make Hope consider a future that he had no hope of preventing?

"Then I shall comply, and find their weakness from the source."

"Very well." Amodar stood and held up a hand in front of Rygdea's horrified face, halting his protests. "You and Sergeant Farron are to take the next few days off. Let us tighten up security and allow you two to get your heads straight."

Amodar held himself tall, throwing his weight onto Hope as more than just a general, but as a concerned friend. His stiff, unyielding posture said that he expected a fight. Hope could see in the man's concentrated gaze that he was ready to go a few rounds to win, verbally, physically, if he had to. Though, it wasn't Amodar's place to order him around and challenge Hope's authority. At best, this was a stern request.

"It's expected," Hope admitted. "Lightning and I are the ones in the most danger. Plus, she's not in the right frame of mind right now. Light's fury can focus her and increase her viciousness in battle, but it can also blind her from rational decisions. I... I'm no better."

"You two will remain in the Estheim estate. I have increased the men around your home as well as doubled the night patrols around the city. After Farron is done giving her statement, the two of you will be escorted home."

Hope scowled, a retort on his lips that was something like, 'We don't need any more blood on our hands,' but Amodar swept the predictable objection away.

"Let your people protect you, for once."

Hope's jaw worked, biting back words that were useless. Facing Amodar was worse than facing Rygdea or his father. The two of them were weak to Hope's conviction. Hope held the ability to sway them if he wanted to, debate them into seeing his way. With Amodar, it was like facing a wall.

"It won't matter." The cushions of Hope's office chair sighed as he lifted himself up. He set the photo down, placing it back into its dust shadow. "Castea will go after anyone to get to me. Lightning is extremely effective, but she's not the only one that I care about. Castea has a human arsenal that she can use against me - all of NORA, Nivien and Olly, Cass and his family, you, Rygdea, Sazh, Jun and Arden. I only pray that we find something before she strikes again."

Hope let the wind swing him gently, feeling the crispness of the air on his face, the warmth of the tea in his hands. He looked out over the garden, bees buzzing, trees grown tall. The city beyond it wasn't much different. Busy people with buildings high above their heads. A world sheltered, carefully preserved, yet fragile. One big boom could wipe it all out. Or just one tap at its weakest point could tumble it all down like dominos. Hope was tired of watching the world fall apart.

He was tired of losing his most precious people.

There was a flash of light, the turn of the glass door catching the sun's sleepy rays. Lightning stepped out, tugging her purple jacket close. "Forced vacation," Lightning griped, though she had already shed her uniform, transitioned into a civilian. "They need all the manpower they can get and they keep us on the sidelines."

"Got to love upper management. Even you have to respect orders from the higher ranks."

Lightning side-eyed him. "Speaking of…"

"Nope. No." Hope took a sip, though his amusement at the prospect of being used for his position caused the tea to tease down the wrong tube. "I agreed to this. No pulling rank on my part. Not today."

Lightning shifted, bracing herself against the wind as she twisted her lips to hide her smile. "Then what good are you?"

"I'm a good body warmer," Hope suggested, lilting his voice as he lifted the quilt from his shoulder, inviting her onto the porch swing beside him. Lightning looked over at the guards, their eyes conveniently shifted away. "I had to agree to their company. Wouldn't let me out here otherwise. Don't worry, they'll never tell."

Lightning's smile turned rueful, "And what, exactly, would there be to tell?" but she gave, much to Hope's delight.

He could have squealed, if he was that sort of person. He had wished for something like this in his younger years, a taste of the quiet life, porch-swinging in the evening beside her. The swing creaked, stopping as she sat a decent distance from him. He scooted closer, wrapping the other side of the blanket around her shoulder. Lightning grasped the edge of the quilt, then the fingers holding it. She let go, expression folding to thoughts that were out of Hope's reach.

Hope set his cup to the side before sitting back. One foot pushed them into motion. He turned to her with a cautious, "Talk to me, Light."

The usual crease situated itself between her brows. She closed her eyes slowly, opening them to look up at the sky with a sigh and a half-smile that said that she should have expected this. "You're looking at me like I need to unload something. I don't."

"Okay… then why were you so scared?" Hope could feel Lightning stiffen. He questioned his eyes as he could have sworn that she'd turned two shades paler.

"Scared?"

"You were terrified. Castea… She had to have done something to you to put you in that state."

Lightning crinkled her nose into something of a snarl. "Being rendered immobile isn't enough?"

"I didn't mean-"

"Being threatened, having my sister's and your life threatened isn't enough? Facing how useless I am isn't enough?" Lightning tore herself from his hold, turning herself to face him and the swing squawked at the sudden movement. Anger scrunched her features, but her voice turned brittle. "Having to see… having to speak to the woman who took you and… That isn't enough?"

Hope swallowed. He tried to tuck her back against him, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry if I'm prying. I like how open you've been with me lately. I got a little spoiled."

Lightning's head dropped with her shoulders, her laughter light as she looked back at him. "I hate you, you know that? Always with the charming words and the suave smile."

"I try." Hope shrugged.

"Cheeky bastard."

Lightning sat forward, her elbows on her knees. She reverted back to that mechanical voice she used when revealing the pieces of her past. "I was... afraid, yes. I've always been afraid when faced with the enemy. Before, I always thought of Serah. I didn't want to die and leave her alone, or become too injured to protect her and provide for her. I even feared Snow. He was someone that I couldn't keep Serah from. I couldn't control what his life would do to hers. I couldn't protect her from the pain that he would bring her… As I began to care for you, I feared the same. I worried that I would leave you alone, lost, defenseless…"

"You fear for the sake of others, not for yourself."

"Doesn't everyone?" Lightning asked, leaning back, unaware of how much her words stung him.

"You should fear your own death, Lightning. For your sake, as well as ours. You should want to live because you want to see us. Because you want to be with us." He couldn't control the hurt that crossed his face, how it twitched in every muscle in his body and drew him away from her. "To be with me."

Lightning blinked back at him, confused. "That's not what I meant-" But Hope was already standing, snagging his tea cup. "Hope."

"Yes, you did, but that's fine. I shouldn't have expected anything else."

The musty air hit her first. Then the stench, blood and rot and something like death. There was darkness ahead of her, the walls cold and damp. It was like a cave, her steps echoing. She kept one arm over her face to block the odor, the other reached out, fingers stretching to feel along the walls. There was one lone flame at the end of the tunnel, far ahead. She walked toward it, each step sinking her gut like a stone.

It felt like hours passed as she kept walking. The flame never got closer. It sat there, mocking her. She could almost hear it laughing at her vain attempt.

"You're fighting it."

Lightning jerked to a stop. Her hand went to her side, but she was unarmed. She looked back, forward. Nothing but the torch.

"Good, you act like the protector you claim to be."

"You want me to go for the torch, don't you?" Lightning yelled, her own words bouncing back at her. "Then I'll sit here. I'll do nothing! I will not move to your tune!"

A scream tore through the air, a shrill, pained cry and Lightning recognized it as if it had been her own. "Serah!" Lightning ran without hesitation, throwing caution to the wind as Serah kept screaming. The torchlight flickered out just as Lightning reached it. The cries ceased. It was just Lightning and the darkness. "Serah?"

A coarse laugh answered. A flame flickered to life, perched atop Sebastian's finger. He was facing away from Lightning, hovering over a girl that was bound in front of him. He drew a knife, so long, so familiar, and held it in front of him, out of Lightning's sight. Lightning could hear a whimper.

"Serah!" Lightning ran to her, but stopped. It was not her sister. It was Yeul.

Torches lit around the room, bathing it in an orange glow. Lightning could see the tables. Blood. Severed limbs. Puddles of gunk. It was… the most horrific sight that she had ever seen.

"You know what to do. What to say to make this all go away, little Yeul." Sebastian's words slithered from his lips as he began to scrape the blade against her skin. Yeul squirmed, her teeth grating, but she shook her head. Something metal clinked to the floor, rolling toward Lightning's foot. A headband of some sort? Yeul screamed again, drawing Lightning's gaze back as Sebastian cut deeper. Yeul still wouldn't speak.

Lightning almost wanted her to.

What good were her visions? What good was her connection to Etro? What good was any of it if she had to endure this?

Sebastian clicked his tongue, but he hardly looked disappointed. "There are other ways to get it out of you. As I'm sure you know by now."

Yeul's eyes widened, her head snapping to the side.

"Get your filthy hands off of me. Unhand me, you beast!" A heavy thump was heard before Zalera was dragged into the room, her eyelids open lazily as blood dripped down her forehead.

Lightning had to stop this. She could not just stand there unmoving and unnoticed forever. Lightning was going to run to Zalera's aid, free Yeul, kill these monsters with her bare hands if she had to, but she couldn't move. She couldn't speak.

She could only witness.

"Please, please don't," Yeul begged as Zalera was lifted up and strapped down. Sebastian grinned, dropping his fire in favor of the thunder spell that danced on his fingertips.

Lightning knew what was coming. Unable to watch the strike, Lightning slammed her eyelids shut. There was a flash of light before her closed eyes, bright, loud, crackling, followed by a scream that ripped her eyes back open.

It was not Yeul or Zalera that had screamed.

It was Hope.

Hope laid a jittery mess in the aftermath, his teeth clicking and limbs shivering. There were cuts open and bleeding. His neck was bruised and burned, the skin a shoddy patchwork of purple and red. Knife ready, Sebastian tore into Hope like a child ripping open a present. Sebastian would heal it all up, just to find a new way to tear him open again.

Through it all, Lightning stood there

and watched.

As time drew on, Hope's spirit grew tired. His cries became less frequent, his torture seemingly less effective. Castea stood over him now. "This is what happens when you leave him. When you let him fall right into my hands." She sneered at Lightning, her presence suddenly apparent. "I've never left him. Not once. I've stayed by his side since I had him in my grasp. At least I'm loyal."

Lightning watched as Castea's hand dove into Hope's chest, gripping tightly onto his heart. Castea grinned, wide and proud. She was going to pull out his heart. She was going to kill him.

In that last moment, Lightning closed her eyes and heard,

"Light!"

Lightning woke. Her heart thundered inside of her chest, its rhythm quaking throughout her body. She slowly sat up, not trusting her stomach, and looked over her room. Quiet. Dark. She felt a strange urge to turn on all of the lights. Instead she fled to Hope's room.

He was asleep when she entered. He seemed peaceful, breathing easy, expression slack, body relaxed. Lightning felt her body deflate against the door frame.

Lightning understood now. Hope's pain. His terror. His guilt. His shame. His need to move on. She understood and as difficult as Hope's torture was to face, she would willingly put herself through it again. The cost was worth the gain.

Now Lightning could help Hope struggle forward. Hope's torture was over. He was attempting to move past it. He was doing his damnedest to leave his captivity in the past in favor of striving to create a better future. His torture didn't define him, it only made him stronger and more determined to save the world. He was letting it go, and Lightning would have to, too. She couldn't keep asking, needling, or apologizing. She would only be forcing him to remember. She would be no better than Castea.

As sure as she was of this, of her conviction, of him, Lightning could feel the stir of her emotions. They pulled her toward him, made her want to heal what was no longer there. She perched herself on the edge of his bed, letting the moonlight guide her sight. Hope was laying on his stomach, his arms holding his pillow close, face turned towards her. His expression was serene, free of the haunts that latched onto her now. He was in his usual sleep attire, the top of his navy blue sweats barely visible above his covers. His back was left bare, and Lightning wondered if it had always been so broad, a muscled expanse that she could run her fingers over. She allowed herself a moment to admire the body of the man that Hope had grown into before dropping her gaze.

He's still here. He's safe. You won't let him go again.

Ever.

Lightning laid herself down at his side, mindful not to jostle as she slipped beneath the bedding. She slid closer, leeching his warmth, feeling his breath, nuzzling her nose down beneath his armpit, and let herself follow Hope into dreamland.

Morning came with the sun's searchlight glare hitting Hope in the face. He liked waking with the sun, joining the world as it crept back to life, but sometimes mornings were hard, following difficult days and stressful events. Hope sunk back into bed as he thought about his handling of the situation between him and Lightning. It wasn't a fight, per se, but he could feel the tension between them after that, an overeager toddler bouncing between them, begging to be acknowledged.

Hope shifted, wanting to turn himself so the lamp shaded the sun from view.

But there was a lump in the way.

A body-shaped lump.

A gorgeous lump.

Pink tendrils dribbled down his shoulder, the ends tickling beneath his chin. Her forehead was pressed against his shoulder, her body flush against his side where he could feel the warm softness of her, every razor-sharp edge polished smooth. One of her legs was between his own, her toes curled against his calf.

Hope didn't move, breath restrained in his chest as his brain sputtered at the situation. Lightning was sleeping in his bed. She was on top of him, clinging to him. Did he time travel into one of his teenage fantasies? Hope dared to touch, to be sure. His fingers fanned out on Lightning's arm, finding fine hairs and porcelain skin. Back in their l'Cie days, Hope loved the way Lightning looked when she slept. That hadn't changed. The lack of awareness left such a vulnerability upon her features, untroubled by her prideful thoughts and soldier composure.

Again, Hope wished that he could read her features. He would have been able to tell the story of her dream by her parted lips, the drifting of her eyes beneath her lids, the hitch of breath in her throat, and the way the muscles in her cheek twitched. He wondered if she was dreaming of Serah, of simpler times.

Hope thought of Lightning's sister every now and then. He wondered if Serah would approve. If she would accept Hope into the family like a brother. Hope smiled at the thought. He kind of always wanted a sister. Would Lightning want that? Would she want to share her sister with him?

Would she want him in her family?

Hope disentangled himself from Lightning, careful to extract his elbow from her grasp. Hope sat, in the burgeoning light of day, and pondered his own future. What he wanted. Where he would go. There was a world out there, staring him in the face, threads of destiny pulling him forward. He could feel the tug in his muscles, little fibers sinking into his cells. He needed to move, continue forward. Cocoon, their cradle in the sky, was waiting on him. Fang and Vanille remained trapped until he could get himself in gear. Life was passing Serah, Snow, and Dajh by as Hope floundered to find a cure for stasis. Gadot and Olly were still missing.

There was too much to do. Lives depended on him, yet what was he doing?

Hope stretched his arms up, high up on his tip-toes until there was a satisfying pop. He dropped himself, nodding as he quietly gathered his clothing for the day. Lightning remained a sleeping mystery. He had no idea why she snuck into his room and slept in his bed.

Did she not trust him to stay?

Did she think he was too weak to remain alone?

Hope didn't doubt it.

A whisper in his inner ear told him that this was a good thing. A step forward, but Hope remained wary.

It seemed that every step forward led to two steps back.

Gadot looked down at little radiant, smiling faces. Ruffling Roxanne's pigtails. Laughing at Kyson's gap-toothed grin. Receiving a play-doh figure from Aranea. All of these beautiful children at his feet, clamoring against his knees. Orphans. They were like cherished siblings to Gadot. He visited them whenever he could, protected them and society from injustice with NORA. Gadot wanted to keep his family safe.

But one by one the smiles fell away. The children wilted like vibrant flowers dulling in winter. They fell to the floor with soft thumps as their bodies met carpet. Gadot called out to them. He reached for them, but came back with nothing but a handful of sparkling dust.

They were gone.

Cocoon had swallowed them up.

The realization broke something in Gadot's mind.

He woke from the dream, a repetitive world that played the days over and over. Something released him, a calling that made him resist this forged replica of his life. He needed to get back to NORA.

Lebreau.

Maqui.

Yuj.

Snow.

The kids…

They were trapped, just like Snow.

Gadot's body failed to move, unbending to his will. His eyes took note of golden light that glittered through the stone around him. There were bodies around him. His comrades. Were they-?

"Ah, ah, ah," a female voice, redolent with confidence and pride broke across his observations. Bright gray eyes filled his vision. "It's not nice to sneak peeks. Back to bed with you, wandering child." Fingertips rolled his eyelids back in place.

"Gadot! Gadot!" Aranea called. She held up her mushy figure with a smile that rounded her tiny cheeks. "Guess what I made you."

"For me!" Gadot boomed his voice across the room so all of the kids could hear. "I always wanted an alien giraffe!" There were a bunch of giggles.

"It's a puppy!" Aranea pouted.

Gadot gasped. "My bad, little dude," he said as he pet its lopsided head. "I'll call you Aranea."

"Hey, that's my name."

"Oh my gosh! My puppy turned into a little girl."

Aranea played along, wiggling her but like she had a tail. "Ruff. Ruff."

Something squirmed in Gadot's mind. He was supposed to do something. It was important.

"I wanna be a puppy!" Kyson shouted.

"Me, too."

"Woof. Woof."

"Arf!"

Gadot forgot what that something was.

Hope was gone from the bed when Lightning stirred. It induced a split-second wave of panic, for Lightning was not a light sleeper. How Hope was able to leave her side so easily… She felt a flash of heat, bursting up her body. She was going to have to explain her presence here, wasn't she? After returning to her room to ready for the day, Lightning found Hope in his office. He was sitting forward, hunched over the giant tome that was Fabula Nova Chrystallis. Nose to the grindstone, his gloved fingers parsed over line after line, before slipping his middle finger over the corner to turn a crackling page.

Lightning wasn't too fond of this room. It smelled of old wood and books and the sweat of someone who worked themselves to the bone. Lightning wasn't sure if that was Bartholomew or Hope leaving their imprinted ghost behind. Seeing Hope hyper-focused, unaware of anything but ancient words, caught in the map of his thoughts that Lightning couldn't hope to follow, mellowed the eeriness of his office. This was where Hope was most true to himself, a brainiac with a radiant mind following his heart and soul as he worked to better the lives of others. Hope looked the most beautiful when he followed his heart.

"Morning," Lightning spoke in greeting, unsure if his failure to respond was because of his concentration or their break in discussion from the day before. "Still searching for answers in that book of yours?"

"Yup," Hope replied, distracted, yet he still managed to hit the forced notes of petulance. "It's the only way that I can help right now."

As entrancing as watching him work was, it was also aggravating to watch someone who worked without thought for themselves. Missing meals. Spurning sleep. Stiffening their posture and forgetting exercise. Hope had a disastrous habit of putting everyone else first, and Lightning didn't acknowledge the lessons that Hope may have sponged from her. "Anything new?" Lightning placed her hands on the desk, leaning on bouncing fingers.

"Not yet."

Lightning felt a tick in her brow. Without much thought, she snatched the book from its place, slamming it shut.

Hope stared at the empty space, as if his mind lagged at the loss. His gaze traveled up to her, then the book. "Give it back."

"I think we need to discuss some things."

"Lightning."

"Oooh, scary. My full name." Lightning sat in the chair across from Hope, ignoring his outstretched arm.

"Give. me back. the book."

"No."

Hope's arm shook, his hand fisting there in the air, before it fell with his sigh. "Haven't I had enough of my rights taken from me? Clearly, even reading is a luxury that I am not allowed to enjoy. What, Lightning? What is so important to discuss that you have to- to… punish me this way?"

"Yesterday… I didn't mean what you thought I meant."

"Forget about it. It wasn't important."

"I think it was important."

Hope paused, his jaw cocked to the side, expression considering. He did not respond.

"I'm… new to this. I've never cared for someone like this before and I really do care about you. You know that, right?"

A beat. "Yeah?"

"As a soldier, we're taught that we're expendable to the greater purpose that we are fighting for. When I started out I accepted that because... because I already found my life expendable."

"That's- You're life is not worth any greater purpose-"

"Serah changed that view. When I was laying in that bed after my first mission, my abdomen shot up, knowing that I narrowly escaped death, I began to think of Serah. I thought about what would have happened to her if I wasn't there. Serah would have been left without a home or a guardian. She would have had nothing because of me." Lightning still felt like kicking herself, imagining leaving that smile, those precious hands of her sister's that used to cling to her own. She thought of their home being sold, boxes packed up, all of Serah's little stickers being scraped off of the walls. Serah standing alone in an orphanage, her favorite plush Domo under her arm and her shoelaces untied.

It wouldn't have been the worst, Lightning thought. She probably would have had Snow there. Been made the princess protected by his band of NORA brats.

"From then on, I lived for Serah. During the l'Cie fiasco, I lived for our team." Lightning could feel her affection manifest on her face, tugging at the corners of her lips. She didn't know when she began to smile so much. So openly. "I lived for you."

Hope struggled, to find the right words, the right expression, conflicted. His hands toyed with a pen, his father's, platinum and etched with a name that meant everything in their new world. "Lightning…"

"I never thought about living for me. I didn't consider my future." She shifted in her seat, fidgeting in a way that she had trained herself not to. So long ago, under Amodar's strict gaze. "I never thought that I would have one. My job was all I had and truthfully I figured it would kill me someday. The future wasn't something that I looked toward." Lightning's eyes traced the curled symbols on the book's cover, its contents a telling of destiny. As much as they had fought against the trappings of fate during their time as l'Cie, it was almost comforting to think that destiny had placed her there, in Hope's office, sitting across from him. She could think that destiny gave him to her. "But maybe... with you that will change."

The pen fell from Hope's stunned-still hands, rolling to a stop against a stack of neon-colored sticky notes. His face was the picture of astonished, but not in a bad way. "You… You don't know how happy that makes me."

"I think I have an idea."

Excitement skittered across Hope's face, but he squashed it the next moment, suddenly serious. "We have to work to attain that future, first."

"True."

Hope took a breath, standing with gumption. "I can't just sit here." And left the room.

"Wait. What?" Lightning jumped from her seat, leaving the dusty, mildew-stained book behind. She caught up to him at the bottom of the staircase. "What do you mean? We're stuck here. Forced vacation, remember?"

"Uh-huh," Hope said, his tone the equivalent of an eye roll. "I'm the director. I need to be out there, protecting people, saving as many lives as I can. I'm no good to them here." Hope untucked his boots from beneath the entryway bench and sat, shoving them on.

How had she not noticed that he was already dressed in his uniform?

"Think about it, Light. I'm the reason that everyone is in danger. It's my responsibility to take care of the threat no matter how you look at it."

"Orders are orders, Hope." Lightning knelt down in front of him, stealing the laces from his hands. "You can't just disobey them when you please."

"Is that you or the soldier talking?" Lightning glared at him for that. He remained unperturbed, jerking his foot away from her and taking his laces into his hands. His movements were rife with frustration, the laces ripping loudly through the holes. "I'm sorry, but I won't lounge around and let more people fight and die for me."

Hope stood, but Lightning held him back with a hand to his chest. "You're working yourself too hard already. I can't keep watching you do this to yourself."

"Then don't," Hope shot back.

"I'm your guard. I will protect you from everything, including yourself."

Something flashed in Hope's eyes, his spine straightening as he shoved her away from him. It wasn't hard enough to hurt her, but it was imbued with enough force to stun her out of shock. "Stop it. Quit acting like you only exist to keep me alive. I know you're my 'personal guard' and all, but I can protect myself. What if I wanted to protect you, huh? What would you say?"

"I'm not some damsel in distress, Hope."

"And I'm not some cowering kid, either." Hope reached for the doorknob, throwing the door open to where it slammed against the wall.

Lightning raked a hand through her hair, stomping after him. Why didn't he understand? Why couldn't he realize what was at stake, what could happen to him, and how it would affect the world?

How it would affect her.

Lightning was ready to physically hold him back if she had to. She would have, but there was a lilting whistle in the air, a glint of something in the sky. "Get down!" Lightning yelled, but it was too late.

It struck Hope so fast that Lightning couldn't identify the object or see where the initial penetration occurred. The sheer speed of the object sent Hope flying back through the entrance of his home until he was sprawled out on the floor. Hope choked back a cough, hands scrambling to stem the bleeding in his abdomen. An arrow stuck out like a flag, feathers black and white.

Lightning's eyes scanned for anyone, anywhere, but with the trajectory she doubted that she would be able to see the vantage point of the attacker. She shouted at the guards, sending them out in their direction, and turned to Hope. Blood was already pooling beneath him, turning the blue rug a dirty purple. She brushed away Hope's shaking hands, replacing them with the firm hold of her own to apply pressure. Hope hissed, his head thumping back on the ground. Lightning gripped the arrow, starting a mental countdown to rip it out so Hope could heal himself.

"No!" Hope took hold of Lightning's wrist. His eyes seemed to white out they were so wide. "I know this type of arrow. Pulsian. Southern Stratos Tribe origin." His voice was strained, coarse, but assertive. "It... injects poison slowly upon penetration."

"Then let me get it out."

A guard came in then, stern-faced, his gun trigger-ready. "Director, are you-"

"Call a med team," urged Lightning.

Hope put a shaky hand on top of Lightning's, gaining her attention. "If you pull that out, the tip will be dislodged and the rest of the poison will be injected into my system. I'll... die in seconds."

Zalera zoomed after her target, bounding from tree to tree to keep up, but careful to keep her pursuit from being detected. She watched the attack from her perch outside of Hope's home, saw the direction that the projectile had come from, and was now on the assailant's tail. Zalera felt adrenaline pump through her system, resolve quickening her stride. She was done with this. The mind games, the trickery. She was going to face Castea and end this. Enough was enough.

A flash of red caught her attention, fabric flapping behind the fleeing assailant. Short, black hair. A lithe figure. It was a women dressed in a red sari, running at top speed. Zalera followed her for nearly seven kilometers. The woman stopped a few yards ahead of her, climbing a tree to rest on a branch and scan the area. Zalera hid herself low in the brush, stilling. Zalera narrowed her eyes, her brain sticking on the woman's appearance, as if it knew her identity. It was only after she heard the woman chuckling to herself that Zalera knew.

Flicking her hair from her face, the woman grinned. "And I was worried about getting away."

"You should have run farther." Zalera jumped down from her spot above in a neighboring tree. Her knee came down toward the woman's face, colliding with a cheekbone. The woman fell backwards, her arm shooting out to catch a nearby branch. She swung onto another one, finding her footing just before Zalera elbowed her in the back, knocking her down into a thornbush below.

By the time Zalera reached the ground, the woman had already freed herself from the prickly branches, her sari torn and tiny cuts scattered across her skin. She faced Zalera, pulling her bow to her chest.

"I should have known," Zalera hissed. "That was an exceptional shot at that distance. So, even young ones aren't spared from the wrong end of your arrow. Why target him for a kill, Aida?"

Aida shrugged against the pull of her bowstring, idly plucking a thorn from her wrist. "If I wanted to kill him, he'd be dead. Y'know that." Zalera swung out her chakram, the piercing end of one spike stilling at Aida's throat. Aida didn't flinch. She used the back of her hand to wipe the blood from her leaking nose. "Y'gonna kill me?"

"I should," Zalera spat. "But my friends will want answers. And you're gonna give them to them." Her chakram edged into the woman's tan skin. "Or I won't hesitate."

"Once you're caught, you're caught."

Lightning rode with Hope in the ambulance, their bodies being jostled around in the tiny, equipment-packed space. Hope groaned, arms moving to hold his stomach, but the transport straps kept him down. The man tending to Hope began cutting the clothing from his abdomen. Lightning's eyes widened as she was able to see the wound for what it was. The area around the arrow was purple, the circumference of the discoloration too large, too dark. The veins around it were black and swollen.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I hated fighting with you, but this is what I was talking about. You're going to get yourself killed.

Lightning took hold of Hope's hand. He squeezed her fingers like he was draining an orange of its juice. He was having a hard time breathing, wheezing and choking. The medic moved to insert a tube. "You're going to be fine, Hope," Lightning insisted. "I'm not going to let you die on me." His eyes fell closed and Lightning became alarmed, anxious, borderline hysterical as his hand fell from hers. "Hope!" She turned to the medic. "What are you doing? Help him."

"His organs are shutting down and his throat is closing. My remedy didn't work. I don't have the antidote for whatever poison this is, so he's going to have to hang on until we reach the hospital. All I can do is keep his lungs pumping and his heart beating." The medic gave her an empathetic glance, but returned to his ministrations. "It's better that he's out for this. His body will focus on keeping him alive instead of awake. Now control yourself, soldier."

Her sharp gaze softened as it fell back to Hope, her hand still clutching his and her other one sifting through his hair.

Don't leave me.

It had been three hours since the attack. Zalera stood outside of the interrogation room, staring Aida down through the one-way mirror. It was obvious that Aida could sense her presence for although she could see nothing but herself, she stared directly at Zalera's position on the other side.

Lightning walked into the room then, the only person to successfully take Zalera's gaze away for hours. Lightning looked a frazzled disaster, blood on her clothes, in her hair, even crusted in a patch on her arm. As her gaze found Aida, Zalera could see a burning hatred.

"How's Hope's recovery?"

Lightning scoffed, an amused sound edged with anger. "He swears he's fine. All cheery fucking smiles. When did he become such an outright liar?" Lightning's eyes scanned Aida, hands clenching against her arms.

Aida didn't appear as anyone special, a woman of average build and height, her skin a deep tan. Her shaggy ebony hair fell to her shoulders, one long braid beside her face with beads threaded through it. A red sari was wrapped around her frame. Her hands were cuffed to the table in front of her as she sat confined to her chair, nothing but hatred swirling in the molten gold of her irises as she looked at the glass.

"They get all of the poison out?" Zalera asked.

"Almost, though for doctors, I think they should have been able to handle it faster. Hope's heart stopped three times before he became stable. Amateurs." Lightning shook her head, moving to lean against the glass, as if being closer could satisfy some of her bloodlust. "Hope woke up about an hour ago. He said that once he gets some of his strength back, he can heal his wound and be all better. The idiot actually asked if he could come and talk to his attacker. As if I would let him out of his hospital bed or anywhere near her. What's her story, anyway? She talk yet? If not, I'm sure I could get something out of her."

"Some of her internal organs, I'm sure."

"Why not all of them?"

"Her name is Alvin Ren Aida. She's thirty-five, hunter by trade. She used to live in the village neighboring mine when I was a child."

"A friend?" Lightning snarled.

Zalera ignored the hint of betrayal and suspicion. "She's a highly skilled archer. Her hunting skills were legendary by the time she was ten. Still… to think that she became an assassin…"

Amodar joined them in the room, already shaking his head in Lightning's direction. "You shouldn't even be here, Farron."

"Why not? I have every right to be here. She attacked on that woman's orders and I know it. I can get it out of her. I want to talk to her, sir."

"Absolutely not. You are far too emotionally invested in this."

"And she's not?"

"Zalera knows her and apprehended her. She's the one who is most likely to get answers out of her and remain calm."

Lightning scrunched her face up in anger, but objected no more. She looked to Zalera, pressing her expectations in like a bruise. "You better get her to talk or so help me-"

"I will," Zalera assured. "She wants to talk to me. That's why she didn't put up a fight when I caught her. She ran, but she didn't try to leave when she saw me. There's a message that she wants heard. Probably from Castea."

Zalera entered the interrogation room and sat across from Aida, only the table between them. They stared into each other's eyes, neither backing down until Zalera asked, "Why?"

Aida sunk down in her chair, as far back as her cuffs would allow. One of her legs kicked out, and Zalera could feel Aida's ankle against her own. "It's been a long while, Zalera. I haven't seen you since you were what? Eleven... maybe twelve?"

"Thirteen."

"Right. A mere youngling. You still wear all green, I see. Still mourning your village with the color of your rags. The guilt of survival still eat away at you at night?" Aida's head cocked to the side, grin broadening. "Or has it been replaced by the guilt of surviving your new tribe's attack? How do you keep escaping death when no one else does? Maybe you're too much of a coward to save others and just run at the sign of trouble."

Zalera lunged across the table, grasping Aida's throat with crushing force. "Don't you dare." She let her grip tighten, lingering in Aida's space so she could hear the stutter of breath before she let go.

Aida didn't give Zalera the satisfaction of looking afraid, or even worried. She waited until Zalera was seated to breathe out a quiet, unhurried breath, her lips an o like she was blowing smoke. "A coward and a traitor."

"Excuse me?"

"You're living amongst them. Friends with them. You said it yourself when you caught me. You're even beginning to sound like them. Of course, I'm hardly surprised considering your heritage..."

Zalera hated how the shame rushed to her face like she was small again, being teased about her half-breed existence. She left that part of her life behind in the ashes of her home, didn't even speak of it. To anyone.

Banging her fist on the table, Aida sat forward. "These... Cocoon people," she sneered. "They destroy their own planet and now they think they can take over our land?"

"They don't mean us any harm, Aida. Not most of them. Certainly not Hope-"

"Their leader. He's the worst of them all. His very existence is harmful to us, his own people included."

Zalera's eyes lifted from the table to meet Aida's, realizing that she was talking about Hope's l'Cie status and the crystals. The only way she could know about that would be if she was working with Castea.

"Oh, yeah. I know about him. News spread like wildfire, Zalera. Even among us. Everyone is out to get your new little l'Cie."

"Everyone?"

Aida snorted in response. "Since when have l'Cie ever been a good thing? A Cocoon l'Cie can only be after one thing: the destruction of Pulse." She leaned forward, her hands spread out on the table as her nails dug into it. "With the migration came news of what happened to Cocoon and why it happened. The fal'Cie of Cocoon wanted a new world. They created the l'Cie to bring this desire to fruition. What else would the kid's rebranding be for, if not his original purpose?"

Assumptions. That was the base leading to Aida's actions. If she was to be believed, that is. "Why you? If Hope Estheim is such a big bad threat, why of all of the people of Pulse were you chosen to take care of him?"

"Who else could match my skills? Who would be a better assassin?"

"But you didn't assassinate him. You said it yourself that if you wanted to kill him, he'd be dead."

Aida's jaw clenched and she cast her gaze to the side.

"When did you start selling your skills out to Castea?"

Aida jumped forward, jerking the table into Zalera's abdomen. "I sell out to know one."

"Yet you do her bidding."

"I know no one by that name."

"You don't know who the leader of the pack is that took out my tribe?" Zalera seethed, pushing the table back into Aida, her beads clacking against the plastic. "That killed Yeul? The woman that has decimated every sacred Pulsian oath which we hold dear?"

Aida's expression slackened. There was the passing of sadness, of grief, for Yeul, Zalera assumed. Their people's treasured Seeress. Then anger. It pulsed in her cheek, her forehead with a squirming vein at Aida's temple. Then it relaxed into nothing.

"She's lying," Lightning growled as Zalera stepped out. "Let me in there."

"I don't think she is," Zalera said, her face pensive as it was reflected back at her through the glass. "Aida never once spoke of the crystals. Her reasoning for attacking Hope was based on his old purpose as a l'Cie. And when I mentioned Castea-"

"She really didn't know who you were talking about until you referenced Castea's slaughtering of Pulsians," Lightning finished.

"Right. Almost all villages and tribes know of Castea and her followers, just not by name. I didn't know who she was until after I saw her back when I was captured. Her group's deeds are widely known. Their ruthless murdering and conquering mirrors that of legendary, blood thirsty tribes like the one that took down the four great kingdoms centuries ago."

"But she didn't kill Hope. If she really was just an assassin sent from the Pulsians, and she's as good as you both say, why isn't he dead?"

"The arrow was laced with a large dose of a very rare poison," Amodar interjected, staring down at his tablet. With a press of his finger, the screen floated onto the one-way mirror, showing them Hope's medical chart and his vitals in real time. "It's a miracle that we even had the cure for it. Maybe they wanted him to suffer instead of dying a quick death."

"Or... Maybe she did mean to kill him outright," Lightning posited. "Aida's a confident and prideful person, right?" Zalera nodded. "Maybe something stopped that arrow from hitting its original, more fatal target. She wouldn't want to admit that she missed her mark and is playing it off as a purposeful hit."

"How would-"

Zalera cut Amodar off. "Castea."

Lightning nodded. "It wouldn't be surprising in the least if she knew of the attack. She's been keeping an eye on Hope, I'm sure of it. Castea may not have orchestrated this, but she would have known about it. As for how she stopped it... she has a truck-load of abilities that we don't know of. Why she didn't stop the attack completely... I'm unsure."

"She did say that she helped keep Hope alive during all of the other assassination attempts," Zalera added. "Some he didn't even know about."

"We'll keep questioning her," Amodar said, swiping away Hope's chart, "though I doubt we'll get much more from her. Farron, I want you back in that hospital with Estheim. You're still on leave from all duties besides being his protection."

"But, sir-"

"Not a word, Farron."

Lightning's mouth snapped shut. She gave a curt salute, before pausing as she considered the floor. "Do you think there will be more like her," Lightning asked Zalera, tilting her head in Aida's direction.

"If she isn't working for Castea, then most likely."

"What happened?" Lightning asked in a rush of breath as she entered the room.

Hope was sitting up, holding his stomach as he heaved breaths in and out. Sazh was at his side, frantic hands fumbling with the nurse call button. Lebreau stood opposite him, red in the face as she glared daggers at the bed.

"We told him not to," Sazh grumbled, bushy brows furling with that fatherly look of I-told-you-not-to-but-I-don't-want-you-to-die-to-learn-a-lesson concern.

"I told him not to," Lebreau shouted, stomping a foot. "You stood there shaking your head!"

"What was I supposed to do? Hold him down?"

Lightning shoved her way past Lebreau, skidding to Hope's side. "Will someone-"

"No, but you could talk some sense into him, at least," Lebreau demanded.

"I know Hope-"

"And I don't?"

"-If he wants to do something stupid. He's gonna do it."

"That doesn't mean that you should let him!"

Lightning elbowed over a vase of flowers from Hope's table. The glass shattered on the floor, flowers tumbling into a puddle, but at least it got their attention. "Both of you stop screeching at each other and tell me what happened."

"He healed his wound," Lebreau replied through gritted teeth. "I told him that he should wait. I may not have gotten all of these fancy powers like the rest of you, but magic draws a lot of energy, right? Something Hope is currently in short supply of."

Lightning found herself adopting Lebreau's glare, sending Hope her own with a deathly punch. "Dammit, Hope. All you had to do was rest here. That's it! Do I have to keep my eye on you 24/7?"

"Yes…" Hope panted, rubbing a small circle into his belly, "that's what I was missing. Lightning's cure-all yell. Now… Now I feel better." Hope grinned, looking as winded as if he had finished a triathlon.

Lightning remained unamused. "If it were that simple of an injury, they would have given you a potion to mend the damage. Your system is still in shock, Hope. You need to wait for the antitoxin antibodies to do their job."

Hope's grin thinned into a grimace, but his breathing began to even out and he eventually sat back against his pillows. "There. Now there's no reason for me to be here." Hope shifted his gown, lifting it up and pealing the bandages away to find unblemished, smooth skin, the thread from his stitches laying useless at his hip.

Lightning's grip tightened on the bed's railing, the metal squeaking beneath her palms. She was relieved to see Hope sprinting away from death's door, but would it kill him to exercise a bit more caution when it came to his own health? "Shut it, Estheim. You're staying here until I say so."

Hope's expression drooped into a pout. He wriggled his body back down into bed, giving her a look. "Did you speak to her?"

Lightning's gaze cut over to Sazh, then Lebreau. "I wasn't allowed." She leaned over Hope, patting his bandage back down and tucking his gown beneath his covers. "Zalera did. Turns out she knows her. A Pulsian from close quarters. Naturally we thought that she was working for Castea, but... that may not be so."

Hope sucked his lip between his teeth, chewing on it as he looked down at the displaced flowers on the ground. Lebreau was in the process of gathering them up and shoving them into other vases. "There are a lot of people who want me dead. Many have been trying for years, it seems. Castea may be the most likely candidate given our history, but she goes through a lot of trouble to keep me alive. Even punished Sebastian when I almost…" Hope fumbled with the sleeve of his gown, almost like he could yank it down further. Down to cover himself, his brand. He gave up and tugged the sheets up farther. "That was far too close a call for her."

"You aren't immortal, Hope," Sazh said, collapsing down into a chair. "It's time you start takin' Lightning's advice."

"Ahem." Lebreau shoved the end of a lily into Sazh's ear.

"And Lebreau's," he added, shouldering the flower away. "Take care of yourself."

Sazh continued his lecture. Lebreau finished rescuing the flowers and began picking up the glass shards. Hope sat there, hand nursing his non-existent wound. Lightning watched.

Always ready. Waiting.

If Aida wasn't sent by Castea, then does that mean that others will come to finish the job? I'm already struggling to protect you as is. How am I supposed to stop all of Pulse?

The soldiers in charge of watching over Aida scrambled to open the interrogation room door. It wasn't responding to their key cards. The emergency access code was failing. The door wouldn't budge.

"Someone get security!" Amodar yelled. "Tell them to release the safety protocol. Do something!" Amodar kept yelling orders because that was all he could do as he watched Aida through the window. She was struggling, her body convulsing in her seat. Her eyes protruded from their sockets, ballooning up like they were going to pop out of her skull. Her veins surfaced to the top of her skin, the ones in her neck bulging dangerously. Aida pulled against her cuffs, her fingers clawing toward her face, her neck until-

Amodar shoved himself forward to the door. He tried his card, sliding it as he slammed his shoulder into the door. The sensor kept beeping red. No access. The door stayed locked tight. His fingers scrambled to input every override code he knew. Still nothing. "I will get this door open!" One final swipe, and the sensor beeped green. Amodar practically fell into the room as the door opened.

His relief was short lived. "No…"

Aida was on the floor, laying in a pool of her own blood.