A Sealed Fate Revisited

by Spazztic Revenge

She was his guardian and he was her charge. They had beaten their fate and she had kept him safe. But when she awakens from years of blissful sleep into the birth of a new war, can she still protect him? Can she still keep her promise? They found strength in each other before, can they find that strength again?

19. Crescendo

A/N: Sorry for the wait! Holiday season is the busiest for me and I can never fit in writing time. Here's another lengthy chapter as my present to you. Enjoy!

Guest review replies:

Elendyr- Thank you! No surprise. The arrow that signified Aida's entrance and exit from the story. I love adding elements and scenes that heighten Lightning's protective nature. IT'S JUST SO CUTE! As you said, it also pushes them a little more into motion.

---

This… has to be a joke…

The G.C. interrogation room. It was a small, usually clean and cold place. All solid metal and sharp edges and dark thoughts. Hope wasn't all too familiar with this part of the Guardian Corps headquarters, but he knew it wasn't supposed to be anything like what it was now. The blood. The death. It's likeness to a torture chamber grated against Hope's senses. He never wanted to see something like this again.

Aida was dead. Her body was a lifeless heap, dangling from the table where she had fallen from her chair, limbs limp against her cuffs. Her terror-stricken eyes stared out into the void, blood left in tear trails down her cheeks. Bruises mottled her skin. Hope's mind screamed in outrage, thoughts immediately damning the soldiers, suspicious of their interrogation techniques caused by an overzealous hand.

No. No one here would do this.

The blood was everywhere, left like some macabre abstract expressionism piece. A muddy red dripped from Aida's body, remained splattered on the wall and pooled on the floor. Hope looked up at the mirror. His own face was reflected back at him, shaded with a red that made the cells in his body want to revolt. Hope had to remind himself to breathe, keep calm, focus. This wasn't about him. This was about the victim on the floor.

A woman that was supposed to be his enemy. The Pulsian that sought his death.

A person.

Lightning was at his side. Her hand was on his arm. Her touch hadn't left him since the hospital, holding on like a leash, though he still managed to find her grip comforting. It was the only thing keeping him standing. She didn't say a word. He couldn't read her face. She was a closed box, again.

"Interesting..." Dr. Viktor Torkin stood hunched over Aida's body, examining her as his gloved hand pressed against a bruise on her chest. "She died without a single soul in the room with her," he murmured to himself, annotating the scene out loud. "You are quite the fascinating specimen."

"Have a cause of death, yet?" Lightning asked. Her voice was sudden, curt in a judgmental way and Torkin dropped the thumb forceps that he had been examining Aida's neck with. "You've been in here for long enough."

Torkin stood and faced them. He used his wrist to drop the bifocals from his eyes to lay around his neck. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't sense anyone else in the room. Hello, Director." Torkin bowed, the movement so sudden that his glasses swung back up to smack him in the forehead. He flinched, but smiled as he straightened up. "Glad to see that you have recovered."

"It wasn't something to be concerned over," Hope said, politely waving away the sentiment. He could hear Lightning click her tongue, her disapproval a potent heat at his back. "Thank you, Viktor. I thought I told you to call me Hope."

"Right. Sorry, sorry, Hope." Viktor removed one of his blood-stained gloves with a snap, bending over Aida's body to place it in a waste receptacle just behind her. The way he so easily worked around the dead offset Hope in a way that he didn't want to acknowledge. Viktor was only doing his job. "Sergeant Farron, was it? Good to see you, too."

Lightning didn't return the pleasantries or shake his outstretched hand. "Cause of death?"

Viktor's hand curled back up as he pulled it to his side. Hope wanted to gloss over Lightning's brusque manner, but Viktor took it in stride. "I will need to examine her more thoroughly once I have her on my table, but I have a theory. By the massive amount of hemorrhaging, it is an easy guess that she died of exsanguination. But that's not the interesting part. The blood seemed to have leaked from every place imaginable. Notice her eyes," Viktor pulled a pen from the breast of his medical coat, using it to swiftly sweep her hair from her face, "and the bruises."

"Unfortunately hard to miss," Hope whispered, swallowing as he avoided looking too deeply into Aida's eyes.

Viktor grinned, giddy as he leapt to explain. "Her blood vessels burst."

Hope felt himself swallow again, his throat sticking on the thought. His gaze trailed up the blood splattered on the walls.

"Her blood vessels and various veins burst causing the bleeding from her eyes and ears. The blood surfaced beneath the skin and caused the bruising. But the killer," Viktor paused, raising his pen like a finger as he hopped to the other side of Aida, "is here." The pen brushed aside the long braid concealing her neck, revealing a fleshy wound. "The jugular vein and the carotid artery. They burst as well. The pressure of the blood caused them to just… pop!" Viktor exclaimed, throwing out his fingers in a crude recreation. Hope felt himself jump back. "All that blood surged forth, as if being forced from the body. Not even the skin could contain it. I've never seen anything like it."

Hope had never heard of it either. Hope's gaze wandered over the scene, his mind analyzing the circumstances. "What could have caused it? What could spike her pressure so high that it… couldn't be contained any longer? Some form of," Hope ignored the burning of his abdomen, the feeling of something rotting him from the inside out, "poison? Could she have swallowed something before being captured?"

Viktor hummed, pulling on a new glove. He took hold of her face, tilting it up and pulling open her jaw. He peered inside before-

"Did he just smell the inside of her mouth?" Lightning asked, low enough that only Hope could hear. She looked downright disgusted.

Hope laughed, a little uneasy. "Science," he shrugged. "It can be good to use all of your senses when trying to perceive something in its entirety."

Lightning shot him a skeptical look. "If he licks her, I'm out."

"Me, too."

Viktor felt along Aida's breast bone, tapping in a line. His hands moved to her abdomen as he pressed down in a circular pattern. "So far no signs of such, but I can't rule it out. Whatever the method, it caused her blood to boil. Her body heat must have skyrocketed in seconds. Despite her time of death, her body is still exceptionally warm. Whether it was due to a poison or illness or injury or a number of other possibilities, I'm uncertain. It will take some time with her."

"Thank you for your work, Viktor," Hope said, trying not to sound as unsettled as he felt. His teeth pressed down to contain the quiver of his lip. "As efficient as ever. We'll look forward to your report."

"There is one other thing that I found. I believe she did it with her own fingernail."

"…Did what?"

"It looks as though she carved something into her forearm. Considering the amount of blood that the wound provided and the lack of clotting, I'd say it was before this all occurred - mere moments, maybe." Grabbing a strip of cloth from his kit, Viktor applied a clear fluid before dabbing at Aida's forearm.

'I will always protect you'

It was scratched crudely into Aida's skin, but the message was clear.

"Does it mean anything to either one of you?" Viktor inquired as he glanced back up.

Hope could feel something slinking up his throat. It felt like a snake, slithering. Vines growing, curling and spiraling.

Fingers.

Hope fled the room, covering his mouth as he dry heaved into his glove. He could feel her there, inside of him. Castea's hands. Hope fell to his knees outside of the room. He held himself up, gagging as the ground fuzzed in front of his eyes.

"Hope." Lightning came up behind him, her hands once again searching him out. They clamped down onto his shoulders, and Hope felt a resentment build at having to be leashed even at a time like this. "Are you okay? Is it your stomach? The poison?"

"It's my fault," Hope choked out. His breath hitched and he pushed his face into his hands. His hideous, blood-stained face. His fingers tore at his hair, pulling.

"None of this is your fault. You weren't even here."

"Castea needs me. She can't let me die." Hope looked up at Lightning, her concern unwelcome. He didn't deserve it. "Aida was a threat to me, so Castea killed her." Hope fell back against the wall. Lightning lost her hold on his shoulders, but reached back out. She pulled him against her. Hope tried to breathe in the smell of her, focusing on the smooth feeling as his face pressed against the column of her throat.

But it was too much.

"You don't know that."

"I do," Hope insisted. "You know it, too."

Even my enemies will die at the hands of her.

"Director?"

Lightning sprang away from Hope. Hope pressed his fingers into his eyes, wiping the emotion from them. It was times like this that he wished that he could borrow Lightning's mask. Hope sloppily put on his own, the mask of a leader. "Yes, Mires?"

Standing nervously in the hallway was Officer Mires. She tugged at the buttons of her coat, her big, round eyes unsure as her gaze skittered around the two of them. "There's something you should see."

---

Another person dead. Another fellow Pulsian gone.

Guilt knit itself around Zalera like a too-tight sweater as they watched the tape of the interrogation. She caught Aida. She led the woman here like a sheep to slaughter. It was hard to look at Aida as a foe, even after facing what she had done, what she had become. Aida was a person from her past. Someone from her land. A girl that she had learned from, a time or two. She had always looked so serious, just her and a bow that was once longer than her arm span. Aida helped Zalera wield her chakrams, taught her how to fight long-range battles.

Anger kept Zalera strong as she faced Aida in that tree. It pushed her into threatening the woman, because she was wrong. Hope didn't deserve to die. Aida didn't need to protect her people that way. But now all Zalera felt was regret.

She couldn't shake the idea that she betrayed her own people.

Amodar, Rygdea, Lightning, Hope and Zalera stood in front of a monitor that encompassed the southern wall of the surveillance room. The footage began with Aida remaining in her seat long after Zalera had left. The irritation never left her face, though her posture became more relaxed as the time ticked by. She stared into the mirror, shifting in her seat.

"…no one," Aida muttered. "I did this. This is my mission. My achievement!" She kicked her foot against the chair across from her. It screeched back against the ground, smacking into the wall and tipping over. She huffed, sitting back up in her seat. "No one is going to take that from me. I'm going to save them."

It happened not long after.

Her body snapped upright, the suddenness appearing painful. There was a glazed film over her eyes as she stared head on. She kept staring. One minute. Two. Three. Golden irises fell upon her forearm, her hand jerking toward it, struggling in its motions. Her nails scratched against the table, then her skin, until a finger dug in. What she was writing was indecipherable from their angle, but they could guess.

Message written, Aida slumped back in her seat as if being released from an invisible hold. Aida sat there silently, staring dispassionately at her arm, as if she hadn't just gouged her own fingernail into her skin. She began to convulse, her body shaking, quaking, jerking violently. Her wrists were still cuffed, but her arms yanked against the restraints, hard enough that the table cracked around the metal. Her fingers scraped desperately against the table's surface. Aida's eyes bulged, the whites of her eyes turning red as they began to leak blood. It dripped from her eyes, her nose and ears. She kept struggling, her hands grasping toward her face as she let out the most anguished, blood-curdling scream. Blue and red patches began to blot beneath her bronze skin. Her legs kicked out the chair beneath her and she fell. The upper half of her body remained suspended by her cuffs. She struggled there, alone, screaming, fighting for her life as sounds from the soldiers on the other side of the door echoed through.

"Pulse…" she said, one last word before the blood burst from the carotid artery in her neck. It sprayed out, high enough that it hit the camera. The lens filled with red, too thick to see through until it dripped down, revealing Amodar standing over Aida's body.

Zalera didn't breathe. It was a prolonged moment of self-inflicted suffocation. Aida's eyes stared out, and Zalera knew what she had seen in her last moments as she called out toward Pulse.

She had been thinking of home.

Amodar cut the footage. The screen went black, but Zalera could still see her laying there. "The message?" Amodar turned to Hope. His solemn face still held a distressed quality, as if he could still see her, too. He had been left baffled by the events, looking to the rest of them for an explanation that Zalera couldn't care to give.

"For me." Hope's forehead was in his hand, fingers rubbing like he could soothe the thoughts of that woman from his mind. His nostrils flared, head hung low. Zalera could read the fear on him, and felt her own swishing in the pit of her stomach.

"I thought as much. Any idea how that was accomplished?"

"Castea knows her abilities well. She's experienced," Zalera hissed. "She can mess with people's minds, even control them for a certain amount of time." Zalera looked toward Lightning, the woman as close to Hope as her duty could cover. Her hand circled around Hope's wrist. Zalera looked back toward Amodar. She would keep Lightning's secrets, whether they were secrets worthy of being kept or not. "She's done it to me in the past."

"How or why isn't important," Lightning growled, staring at the back of Hope's head like it was the only thing that mattered, her guiding star. "Aida's dead. We need to focus on taking care of Castea."

Zalera found herself hating the brutal, single-minded nature that Lightning had. Her vicious disregard for anything that didn't exist within the scope of her goals. "Isn't important?" Zalera balked. "Aida dies and you care so little about her death that you simply dismiss it? She wasn't just some Pulsian, just another casualty of war for a soldier to overlook. She was my friend."

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it."

"You damn well did."

Hope froze between them before jumping to soothe the igniting argument like he always tried to do. Not this time. Zalera warned him off with a look. Rygdea eased Hope back with a hand on his shoulder, saying, "The ladies look like they need a minute. Let's… give them the room."

"Hope's not going anywhere," Lightning objected instantly, her fingers choking Hope's wrist, and Zalera had to laugh.

Lightning's brand of caring suddenly seemed intolerable. Disgustingly dishonest. Abhorrent and obsessive and frustrating. Zalera couldn't stand it anymore. Lightning's affection for Hope, or whatever term she deemed appropriate, made Zalera seethe.

She was a hypocrite. Living for Hope, all else be damned, and entirely unable to admit it.

People died. The world could burn at her feet and she would be fine as long as Hope was breathing.

Yeul, Zalera's heart countered, her own brand of hypocrisy kept tucked beneath her bed in the form of a purple sack.

"You really think that he can't survive without you. News flash: he did. He has. Your arrogance knows no bounds."

That seemed to be enough to free Hope from Lightning's hold, the girl ripping herself away from him to square up to Zalera. "Arrogance? I'm the arrogant one? You throw a bitchfit in the middle of a meeting, all but demanding the room to yourself so you can air out your issues, and I'm the arrogant one?"

"The director will be in good hands," Amodar assured, his face pinched in disapproval even as he and Rygdea escorted a reluctant Hope out the door.

The door swooshed shut behind them. Steps faded away. Even in her growing sense of agitation, Zalera could see how Lightning's antennae were still perked in Hope's direction. "Is emotion really that alien to you that you can't recognize it in front of you?"

Lightning was still in her civilian wear, her sneakers squeaking sharply on the floor as her body swerved in Zalera's direction. "You're grieving, even my emotionally stunted self can see that," Lightning said, tone rancid. "I'm sure that she meant a lot to you and I'm sorry, but-"

"You're not sorry," Zalera sneered. "You're ecstatic that Aida's dead, aren't you?"

"Tch, I don't have time for this." Lightning gave her a disinterested glance, turning and walking toward the door.

"Aren't you?" When Lightning only kept walking, Zalera pulled her chakram and threw it, the weapon landing in a monitor beside the doorknob. "Aren't you?!" Zalera shrieked, her voice high above the sound as the screen shattered and electricity fritzed.

Lightning protected herself from the sparks with her arms, staring in disbelief at the chakram as it fell and clunked to the floor. "You want a fight?" Lightning muttered, spinning back around. "Yes, okay? I'm happy that she's dead. Have you forgotten? She tried to murder Hope! That woman came here with one intention in mind. She wanted Hope dead. If Castea hadn't killed her, I would have!"

"It's always about Hope, isn't it? It doesn't matter what Aida's reasons for hunting Hope were. It doesn't matter if she was martyr to a cause. It doesn't matter who she was! All that matters is Hope's life, right?"

"Right."

"Because you care about him?"

Lightning's fists clenched. "Right."

"Hah. You wouldn't know how to care for someone if you tried."

Lightning's fist crunched against Zalera's nose. The impact reverberated throughout her body. Something snapped, and it forced her to breathe through her mouth, but no blood came. Zalera didn't let the force tear her gaze away, steadying her feet and steeling herself in place. Lightning aimed a punch toward her face again, and Zalera did little to avoid it. She took the hits, to her cheek, her chin, a particularly rough jab to the stomach. Zalera staggered back into the wall, the cold screen of the massive monitor at her back. Before she could raise her head, Lightning helped her to it, shoving her forearm into Zalera's throat and pushing her head so far back that her skull clinked against the screen.

"I'm tired of you badmouthing me and I'm sick of you belittling my feelings."

The inside of Zalera's cheek stung where it had scraped against her teeth on impact. She pushed her tongue into the new tear before she spit blood down onto Lightning's shoulder. "What feelings?"

Lightning sneered at the spatter on her button-down. She heaved her weight onto Zalera, yanking her gunblade out with her free hand. "You just don't know when to quit."

"Am I your enemy, Firefly? Am I a target now?" Zalera stared down the barrel of Lightning's gunblade. Unsurprised. Uncaring. This was where she was supposed to be. On the other side. An adversary. Foretold since ancient times, marking those of Cocoon and Pulse as enemies. Green eyes stared back into icy blue, and Zalera smiled at the snarl of Lightning's expression. "Do it," she dared while grabbing ahold of Lightning's weapon and roughly jerking it forward towards her own face. "Kill your enemy, soldier."

Lightning's glare intensified as did her hold on her weapon, and Zalera thought that this was it. She was done.

It won't be long now, Yeul.

But Lightning withdrew and took a step back. Zalera fell forward with the loss of Lightning's arm. Lightning holstered her weapon. "You want to be killed, get someone else to do it," Lightning said, and left the room.

---

Rygdea watched Hope move. His counters. The swing of his blade, the extension of his arm, his foot work, his aim. The sharpness of his senses. His timing was stunted, a few seconds shy of being efficient as he blocked the slash that Rygdea aimed at his left side.

The left side.

Rygdea never saw the wound, wasn't able to visit Hope in the hospital as he was monitoring a survey mission on a potential city site. It didn't stop him from imagining the hole from the arrow that could have taken Hope's life.

Rygdea had taken an arrow before. Three at once, in fact. It was different than a bullet, more painful as they struck with bone-shattering force, slicing straight through his bulletproof vest. The recovery left him with enough time to drive him up the walls. He still had scars, remembered the way his nerves stung with a zipping sensation as if the frayed end of an electrical wire had been shoved into his body. It was the kind of pain Rygdea wouldn't wish on anyone. It was too soon for Hope to be out and about, too soon for him to be training, healing powers or not.

Yet here they were.

Rygdea lunged forward, swiftly transitioning from parrying to attacking. He dove inside of Hope's space. Hope raised his blade, prepared to bring it down on Rygdea's neck, but Rygdea was faster, driving the hilt of his weapon up against the underside of Hope's chin. Rygdea heard the snap of Hope's jaw as it slammed closed and his teeth clicked together. The swing stole Hope from his feet. He fell backward, landing sprawled into the dirt.

"Graaahhhhh," Hope groaned, flopping back. "I think you chipped my tooth."

"Going to grow that back, too?"

That… may have come off more brusquely than he'd intended.

Hope propped himself up on his arms, studying Rygdea from his place on the ground. His scrutinizing, somewhat offended gaze made Rygdea scratch at the back of his head and turn away with a huff. Definitely too brusque.

"You were holding back." It sounded like an accusation, and Rygdea wondered how heartless Hope imagined him to be if he thought that Rygdea was going to face him full force after he had been hospitalized and almost died.

"How's the injury?"

"C'mon, Rygdea. Aren't you supposed to exploit the enemy's weakness?"

"Not this time."

"Am I," Hope started, running his tongue over his teeth as he sat cross-legged, "not strong enough to be an enemy?" He held his weapon in his hands. Held was the wrong word. It laid balanced there, on top of the outstretched flats of his palms.

Outside of Academy matters and emergencies, Rygdea struggled in his interactions with Hope since his return from the ark. He found himself torn between his ideals and his emotions toward this bright, broken boy. When Hope had said that he wouldn't hide his l'Cie status from his people, Rygdea had been immeasurably proud. It was everything that Rygdea had worked toward, creating a world where the public wasn't blinded by government falsehoods or manipulated by fal'Cie rule. It gave the people a choice, but it put Hope's head on the chopping block.

Rygdea couldn't let that happen. Not for anything.

It was strange, his attachment to this boy, as a man that never wanted family, or anything like a son.

Rygdea was born into a big family as the black sheep. He sat to the side of most dinners, stayed in his room during family gatherings. His siblings wanted to be doctors, teachers, politicians, athletes and all he wanted was to soar above the clouds in an airship. He had no tangible aspirations, no hobbies. His parents would go to his sister's debates, his brother's ballgames, his siblings' fundraisers and scout meetings, and ignored Rygdea's parent teacher conferences, lacking the concern over his many detentions and suspensions. They didn't care why Rygdea came home with bruises and black marks on his record, that he was only trying to stick up for those who couldn't stick up for themselves. He was labeled the problem child, and that was that.

When he left for training as a recruit, there were no tearful goodbyes or pleas for him to stay. He wasn't invited back home for the holidays, spent them instead in the barracks on his own, enjoying yet at the same time hating the quiet. Cid was the only person that felt like family to him, a friend in the deepest, truest sense as he sat at Rygdea's side, sharing with him the insights that came from growing up in a military household. When Rygdea would get in trouble for teaching another bully a lesson, or calling out an instructor for their hypocrisy or favoritism, Cid would be there, vouching for him, pulling him out of the mud that he had thrown himself into. Cid was the one that led him into the Wide-Area Response Brigade, taking him high into the clouds aboard the Lindblum, ready to face injustice head on as Rygdea's commander. Rygdea trusted him more than he thought he was capable of.

Until Cid's 'betrayal.' Until their lives became a knotted tangle of deceit and subjugation and tragedy.

Since the fall and he found himself alive and spared unlike most of his unit, Rygdea lost sleep at night wondering why. Why didn't Cid tell him about his brand? Why didn't he come to him for help?

Seeing Hope with that brand turned time backward for Rygdea. He was facing Cid again, holding a gun to his head.

A mercy killing. The only thing Rygdea was capable of doing for the friend that had done so much for him.

Rygdea had seen Cid's conviction, his devotion and aspirations in Bartholomew as they began to rebuild their world. He could see it in Hope now, the parallels all the more glaring as l'Cie servitude hung over his head.

A bullet wasn't going to be the answer this time.

"It's not a question of strength." Rygdea knelt in front of Hope, taking hold of the kid's fingers as he curled them back around his weapon. "If you were the enemy, I would exploit that wound and your pain that you've so obviously been trying to hide," Rygdea remarked, smirking at the surprise on Hope's face at having been caught. "But you aren't the enemy, you're my charge. I'm supposed to make sure you're okay and kick your ass if ya lie to me."

Hope squirmed, "You don't have to get all paternal on me."

A father? Me? A real fine joke there. Family was never my strong suit.

"I do, Hope. You were left in my hands after... after you're father passed and though you were eighteen-"

"You were already like a father to me before dad died, Rygdea." The green of Hope's eyes was piercing, and Rygdea cursed the heart of this child. So open and magnetic. "You know that."

Scratching at the stubble of his chin, Rygdea shook his head with a chuckle. "Don't try to soften me up and make me forget that stomach you've been trying not to nurse. How is it? You didn't fully heal it, did you?"

"I don't know why I try to get anything past your eagle eyes."

"I don't, either."

Hope laughed, stopping short to wince and adjust his position. "Hurts a bit. I healed most of the external damage-"

"Trying to fool Lightning, too, huh?"

"-and the doctors said they got virtually all of the poison out, though a small, non-lethal portion will linger in my system for a few days. Clotting the blood took more time than I was prepared for. There's still some cell damage and tears in the surrounding tissue."

"In summary, you have no business being outside of a hospital bed."

"You're the one that suggested we train."

"Don't whine at me, boy. I knew it was the best way to test your capabilities. Have to keep you honest somehow."

"And just what are you two morons doing?" Lightning shouted as she approached, a scowl marring her features. She pushed her way through the guards encircling their match in Hope's yard. "You were just shot, Hope. With a poisoned arrow. You could have died, remember?"

Hope cringed as she stood over him. "It was just some light practice, okay? No biggie."

"No biggie?!" Lightning practically screeched, and Rygdea never got tired of this, watching Lightning lose her shit over every tiny thing having to do with Hope.

"He-llooo! Perfectly capable and responsible adult right here," Rygdea drawled, receiving a searing glare from Lighting. "I called it off when it got to be too much for him."

Lightning swung herself around to face Rygdea, narrowing her eyes as if aiming a dart between his brows. "A responsible adult doesn't battle the fatally wounded for kicks."

"A responsible adult doesn't give a grieving woman a beat down," Rygdea retorted, unable to resist as he spotted the blood on her shirt and her reddened knuckles. "How's Zalera?"

"You beat up Zalera?" Hope asked, eyes wide. Then he turned back to Rygdea. "Hey! I'm a capable and responsible adult, too!"

"Don't get me started on you," Lightning replied. "You're both idiots. Playing warriors out in the open after an assassination attempt."

Hope pushed himself up, his weapon sliding off of his lap and into the dirt. There was a curt, exasperated noise strangled in his throat. "What am I supposed to do? Remain in hiding for the rest of my life?"

"Yes!" Lightning sighed, and even Rygdea reluctantly agreed with an affirmative hum.

"Traitor," Hope accused, throwing a glance Rygdea's way. "The grounds have been searched and are being monitored. We're fine here."

"What a load of bull."

"Lightning. Don't you get it? Nowhere is safe. I was attacked in my home. You were attacked in a monitored room of the Academy. I will take appropriate measures for safety, but I will not let people keep me from living my life."

Lightning clammed up, the stiff line of her shoulders giving under Hope's impassioned speech. Hope's comm went off then, followed closely by Rygdea's.

"Yeah?" Rygdea answered. He could barely hear Amodar on the other end over Hope's shout of,

"They what?!"

---

"It's true. All of them are accounted for. They're being examined now and so far, physically speaking, they're fine. Aside from reported grogginess and a slight increase in temperature, they're in the same shape as they were when they were abducted," Amodar concluded, his expression overflowing with relief as he spoke with a newly arrived Hope, Lightning and Rygdea. Suspicion tugged at his cheeks, tightened his grip on his tablet, but it did little to sour his current jubilant mood.

Hildough was at Amodar's side, his eyes sifting through the incoming traffic of the hospital as they spoke. "I have contacted Waynes, as requested. He should be here within the next five or six hours to speak with us on this matter."

"Thank you, Hildough."

"They're still being examined, I assume?" Hope asked. "All of the soldiers are fine? No injuries? No signs of…" the word coiled in his chest, cramping, "trauma?"

"Sir," Lightning interrupted, an eager edge to her tone and Hope immediately stepped back, "did they confirm the identities of their abductors? Have we got intel on where they were held?"

"Has anyone contacted their families, yet?" Sazh asked as he approached, what was left of the NORA gang on his heels.

Amodar held up his hands to halt the questions, placing his tablet in the bend of his arm. "We have a set, coordinated group contacting families after initial examinations have concluded. Twenty-four people just popped up out of nowhere, so we need to be patient, discreet, and understanding. Based on the examinations that have been completed, none of them have sustained physical trauma of any sort. As for the accounts of their capture, I'm afraid that they have little to offer. Not one of them can recall their time between their abduction and now. There has been no confirmation of Castea Hidon's group's involvement other than Mr. DeWald's account of the original abduction. According to the guards that found them at the perimeter, they all just showed up out of thin air. No leads on their original location or method of transport."

"Hope!" Maqui cried, bouncing up from behind the group as he waved a hand. "Hope! Hope! Can we see him?"

"Calm down, Maq-"

Lebreau stomped toward Hope and yanked him down by his collar. "No bull shit, Hope. Where's Gadot?"

Hope found himself under the threatening glare of Lebreau, the point of her nails sharp against his Adam's apple. Yuj's stare was just as potent, and Hope felt like he was being interrogated in the NORA Café all over again. It was like they expected him to put up walls, hide everything behind red tape and a giant label that read 'classified.' But this was Gadot's life. His well-being. Hope wouldn't keep that from them.

They probably thought the same about Snow…

"Has Gadot been cleared yet?" Hope asked, slipping himself free from Lebreau's grip slowly with a pacifying smile because he knew what her anger was capable of.

Amodar rose a brow, pulling his tablet to flick across screens. "…For the most part, yes. Some last procedural tests need to be done, but-"

"No way, man," Yuj said, startling a janitor nearby as he slammed a hand against the wall. Yuj looked haggard, his hair unstyled and left in a curly bedhead mess. He had facial hair. Hope didn't know that Yuj was even capable of growing a beard. The man was always clean shaven, eyebrows perfectly plucked, his body groomed more than most. But the light was back in his eyes. The gloom that had shadowed over him was dissipating. "You are not keeping us from him."

"-but I'll make an exception," Amodar finished, a warning glint in his eye, but he appeared far more amused than angry. "Exercise caution and restraint. We only just got him back."

Lebreau gulped audibly at Hope's side, and her voice was smaller than he was prepared for. "We just want to see him."

Hildough ducked out to tend to other matters as the group migrated to Gadot's room. The NORA members had all of the patience of a fly, darting toward the man's room, their shoes screeching around corners. Maqui had to duck and slide beneath a passing gurney to avoid a collision. Hope laughed, Amodar looking like he was going to have a coronary as they followed behind. Gadot's door banged loudly as Lebreau swung it open. She was panting, the dribbles of sweat staining through the back of her shirt.

A young nurse was tending to Gadot, checking his vitals. "How did you get in here? This area is restricted to civilians."

Yuj and Maqui piled in behind Lebreau, knocking her forward and they all stood silent, staring wide-eyed at Gadot. Amodar stepped in with a, "They have clearance. Temporary clearance," he emphasized, "so let's give them some space."

"…Right," the nurse said as she was ushered out with Amodar and Rygdea, "Right. Of course."

"Is this a dream?" Gadot asked, his voice sounding sore, painful like he'd just woken from a twelve hour nap that he snored through. "All of you…"

"Welcome back," Lebreau uttered soggily as she hugged Gadot with all her might. Her arms couldn't reach around his large form, but she heaved her body onto him, feet off the ground and Gadot pulled her forward, taking her weight like a comfort.

Maqui was on the other side of Gadot, snaking his arms in around the man's waist and burrowing in beneath Lebreau. "I can't believe you're here. I thought… I thought I was never going to see you again."

"You act like I've risen from the grave. You best have thrown me a rockin' funeral. Tell me Lebreau gave the eulogy. Maqui would have sobbed right through it like a baby."

"Would not!"

"Would so."

"Would not!" Maqui yelled, pinching Gadot's arm before he realized what he was doing.

"Maqui!" Lebreau reprimanded. "Don't hurt him!"

"I- I didn't mean to."

"At least I know I'm not dreaming." Gadot sounded stunned, overwhelmed, and Hope looked up to find the man staring at him. "Hope."

"Welcome back, Gadot."

"Pinch me again, Maq."

"Nuh-uh." Maqui had his eye on Lebreau, his hands protecting his goggles like the woman was going to take them and beat him with them. "I don't have a safe word for this."

"You're alive…" Gadot whispered, looking Hope up and down, blinking back his confusion. "I was sure that we failed. I was sure you were dead."

"I survived thanks to you, Gadot," Hope said, grateful for the sleeves of his blazer. They didn't need to get into the l'Cie stuff just yet. "Thanks to all of you." Hope smiled as he gave the man a hug. He wheezed as he felt his ribs being crushed by the compactor that was Gadot's strength.

"Please, I did nothing but get myself captured."

"You did more than you know." Hope pulled back, plastering on an even showier smile.

"Hey there, Lightning. How's life been treating you?"

"Splendidly," she deadpanned. She stood in the doorway, leaned against the frame with her knee bent like a barrier across the entrance. "You should rest up. We could use you out there."

"Concern for me? Ha, never thought I'd see the day. And you, Sazh?"

"Not bad. Great to see ya flyin' so high, kid."

"That's the shock, I think," Gadot admitted, looking down his body, fingers drumming on his thighs.

"Give your personality some credit." Lebreau snaked her fingers under his, held them. "You're the most resilient person I know. Mmmm. Maybe number two. Behind Snow."

"Guy's eating ice and I'm still number two," Gadot joked.

"Ha. Ha."

The mirthless words turned attention toward Yuj. He was in the corner, bundled in the hood of his oversized sweatshirt.

"Yuj?" Gadot asked, uncertainty laced in his voice as he sat forward. "I could hardly recognize you."

"Pfft, he just needs some guyliner and checkered vans to complete his new look," Lebreau teased.

Yuj didn't reply, though Hope knew about seven comebacks the old Yuj would have flung her way. "Let's… go visit Olly, yeah?" Hope asked, hesitant as he stepped backward against Lightning's leg barrier. "Yuj can catch up in a bit."

---

Yuj didn't trust his voice as the two of them remained alone. A sob sat in his vocal chords, knotting itself in until Yuj felt ready to burst. It had been months. Gadot was gone. No Snow. No Gadot. The two were their commanders, looked up to, respected, always, always supposed to be there. Gadot promised Yuj that he would always be there, ever since a five year old Yuj cowered on his bed, afraid of the boogeyman hiding in his closet. Gadot, big, burly, tough as nails Gadot, was the strength of their team. Snow had the mouth and the heart, but Gadot was their backbone.

Yuj couldn't move, couldn't speak. He hid inside of his hood, Gadot's hospitalized form shielded from his view.

"You gonna just stand there? You look like a creepy gnome or something."

Just hearing his voice made Yuj want to cry. There was a huff of breath, and then the creaks of the bed as Gadot moved. "Don't," Yuj ordered, the sound a broken, pitiful thing and he wanted to swallow it back up. He was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to stand strong and calm in Snow's and Gadot's absences, look after Lebreau and Maqui. As the three of them stood alone in a world that kept taking everything from them, Yuj found that he couldn't even take care of himself.

Gadot didn't listen. He stood, hobbling his way over on stiff legs, looking like he was a puppet learning to walk. Yuj couldn't watch. He slammed his eyelids shut, but he could still see Gadot, looking smaller and weaker than he had ever been in Yuj's eyes. Arms encased him and Yuj didn't want them. He didn't want this. To be consoled. To be held. He struggled against Gadot's arms, shaking, beating his way free. Gadot held firm until Yuj sunk against his chest.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare apologize!" Yuj shouted, grabbing onto the logs that were Gadot's arms and pushing his face into Gadot's neck. "You. You suck! You totally, absolutely suck! You scared me, you know? Going off like that to save Hope and then never coming back. You aren't- You aren't supposed to end up like Snow."

"I know, man." Gadot shook his head, and then he started laughing as he leaned away from Yuj. "I'm used to your feathery hair tickling me, but this?" Gadot poked a finger into Yuj's bearded cheek and Yuj went bug-eyed, ducking down. "Another new look? Maybe you should just go back to being a blond."

"Ha, as if." Yuj sniffed. He internally shook himself, pulled his loose threads back together, and tucked them back inside as he smiled smugly at the man. "You couldn't pay me to go back to that!"

"I thought I couldn't pay you to grow a beard. Shows me."

"What are you doing up? Get back in bed."

"Is that an order?" Gadot asked, raising his eyebrows like a challenge.

"You're damn right, it is."

Gadot smirked and nodded like that was exactly what he expected to hear. Yuj helped him back to bed. Gadot swore that nothing hurt, that he wasn't wounded, his body just felt like he'd taken too long of a sabbatical from training, moving, breathing.

"I can't imagine how those guys felt after stasis. My joints are creaky as shit and I had a cat nap in comparison."

"Is that what happened?" Yuj asked, his hands stilling mid-motion as he tucked Gadot back in. "You think you were put in stasis?" A sense of panic shot through Yuj, and his eyes roved over Gadot's body, searching and searching for the dazzling bright mark that corrupted Hope.

"Easy there. I'm not a l'Cie or anything. One is enough for this group." Gadot's grip tightened on the bed railing, and he stared hard at the fake ficus in the corner. "I don't know what happened. I really don't. I remember nothing." Gadot closed his eyes, eyelids scrunching with the force of his concentration. When he opened his eyes back up, there was no shock of revelation or the relief of knowledge, just a sad, somber tone to his dark eyes. "No matter what it's just... nothing. It was like I was sleeping. The entire time. But what happened with Hope? How'd you find him?"

"We didn't. They took you to stop us from looking. They threatened to kill you if we didn't stop... so we did. We left Hope in their hands to save you." Yuj remembered hearing the news, being robbed of the decision because it wasn't his call.

Hope or Gadot.

Yuj would have chosen Gadot, hands down.

"But I don't regret it." Yuj slumped down in a chair by Gadot's bedside. Gadot looked like he wanted to say something in disapproval, but he tightened his jaw. Yuj wouldn't have cared if Gadot objected. There was nothing in this world more important than NORA.

"You know who took us?"

"Some woman named Castea. She leads a bunch of l'Cie in a mission to obtain a crystal to bring back the Maker. Apparently only Hope can use it. He has his brand back and everything. We're trying to stop her and her group, but... we're not strong enough."

"Yet," Gadot finished. Yuj lifted a brow, confused to find such a fiery expression of optimism stretched across Gadot's face. "We're not strong enough yet. Nobody's a match for NORA."

Yuj smiled, his eyes misting and he could hardly get out an agreement.

"Right."

---

Maqui bounced in place as they waited outside of Olly's room. Seeing Gadot soared his spirits, but there was still one other that he had to make sure was still intact. Maqui abandoned Gadot and Olly that day. His cowardly self chose to hide instead of fight. He submitted himself to a beat down without raising one fist. He couldn't help wondering if he could have done something. Just one move could have changed the entire outcome. Gadot and Olly could have been spared even if it cost Maqui his life.

"Settle down, Maq," Lebreau chided in his ear, much closer than she had been a moment before. "I know that he's your friend more than any of ours, but we are all worried about him."

That's not it. You don't understand.

She didn't have to understand. Maqui nodded back, letting her touch on his upper arm ground him to the here and now.

Hope knocked on the door, pausing as there was a reply from a deep, male voice that certainly didn't belong to Olly. Out stepped the ambassador, a man Maqui had little dealings with. He found it odd to find the man inside of Olly's room, and judging by the look on Hope's face, it was a surprise to him, too.

"Hello, Director... and friends."

"Reuben…" Hope blinked in a flustered flutter of lashes, before he schooled his features. "Olly okay?"

Hildough hesitated before nodding, his eyes drifting back as he closed the door behind him. "He is in excellent shape, considering the circumstances. Lieutenant La Salle is... a different story."

"Should we come back?"

Hildough appeared oddly pleased by Hope's concern. Maqui narrowed his eyes, gazing back and forth between the two like he was missing something. "Unnecessary. I am sure that they would enjoy your company. Young La Salle has some pressing questions that you should tend to." Hildough bowed his head toward Hope, then the rest of them, and took his leave.

"For some reason, that guy gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"Allergic to more gentlemanly company, Lebreau?" Sazh joked.

Lightning snickered. "More like unused to it when stuck in this mound of mutts."

Maqui wasn't even offended, instead bounding into the room before Hope's fist could make contact with the door once more.

"Maq!" Hope shouted.

Nivien was sitting at Olly's side, holding both of his hands in her own. Tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving faint streaks of black in the corners of her eyes from her running make-up. Olly laid in bed, shirtless with bandages wrapped around his middle. There were bruises splotched along his skin, and Nivien's gaze kept bouncing back and forth between each one like an uncertain ping pong ball. The two didn't seem to notice the group enter.

Maqui felt a strangling tug on the back of his coveralls as Lebreau yanked him back. "We can visit later…" Lebreau spoke, hesitant and quiet.

"No. No." Nivien said, thumbing at the black trails on her cheeks. "...It's fine. Come on in. I don't mean to hog my brother's company."

"Dude, where ya been?" Maqui ran and glomped Olly, the other remaining stiff in his arms. That was normal, though. Olly always seemed displeased with any physical contact that wasn't from his sister. "You okay?"

"I think he'd be better if he could breathe, half pint," Lebreau reprimanded.

Eyes widening, Maqui jumped back from him and his bandaged chest. "Sorry, man." But Olly was too busy laughing to hear his apology, and Maqui found himself confused until, "Hey! I'm like an inch taller than you!"

Lebreau clapped him on the back. "You'll always be half-pint to me, Maq. It's great to see you laughing, Olly."

"Thanks," he replied bashfully. "I'm alright, Maq. I have a few bruised ribs... but it's nothing."

"Bruised ribs are not nothing," Nivien scolded.

Hope said something, but it was too faint as he remained standing out in the hall. Lightning whispered something towards him with a frown. She pushed him forward with a firm smack on the back, and Hope reluctantly entered with a wince. "You have bruised ribs?" Hope asked, staring at the wind of gauze across Olly's chest.

"Yes, he does. The doctor said it was fairly recent," Nivien replied, heaving a dead stare Lightning's way. Her look softened as it swerved to Hope.

"Your memory's foggy, too?"

"I... remember being in the ship..." Olly said, biting at the edges of his lip. "Someone started yelling about losing control... I... I fell... I hit my side really hard against a railing and... my head..." Olly reached around, prodding his fingers at the back of his head.

"He has a bump at the back of his head," Nivien added, her hand patting gently atop his cropped hair. "His doctor said that he doesn't have a concussion or any internal cranial damage, thank Etro."

Olly scrunched up his face, giving his sister a look as if saying that he could tell his own story. "I blacked out... then I remember sitting on a beach with my sister...It was fake, obviously. A dream. We were with our parents back on Cocoon..." There was a hiccupped breath, and Nivien looked torn between her role as a concerned sister and the lieutenant in their company. "I also... recall smelling something gross like when we would pull our holiday decorations out of storage every year. That old mold smell."

"Musty," Nivien supplied, crinkling her nose, "and stale."

"And I remember the smell of bodies. The dead that were around us on Cocoon before we were rescued." Olly's hand flapped on the bed, searching until Nivien took it back into her hold. "It smelled like that. Like death. There was this strange… yellow light around me. I don't… I'm sorry. I don't remember anything else. Sorry."

"If you were hurt on the ship, then... how are you..." Nivien stood perplexed, as did the rest of them. It was odd that the bumps and bruises that Olly got months ago were still fresh. As if the injuries had occurred only hours ago. Maqui's gaze turned scrutinizing and he realized that despite the months that they had been missing, Olly looked the same, his hair still cropped when it should have grown out of its style long before.

"Enough about me," Olly said suddenly, shifting his pillow with the raise of his shoulder. "How are you guys? Any news on freeing Cocoon? Speaking of freeing... how'd Hope get away? Was the mission successful or..." Olly turned to Nivien, snubbing Hope's presence in the room.

"It doesn't matter-"Hope tried, but Olly was having none of it.

"Of course it does. I want to know," he insisted. "What happened?"

Maqui could feel his stomach drop. He could still remember the weight of Hope in his arms, his hands groping through grime and blood and finding a rail thin Hope covered in injuries. The squelch of a wound as Maqui accidentally squeezed the spot made him want to hurl then and the memory of it churned his stomach just as much now.

Nobody wanted to volunteer the information. Sazh stared at his shoes. Lebreau threw a hesitant glance Hope's way. Lightning could have burned a hole into Olly's forehead with how viscious her glare was.

"I escaped, that's what happened." Hope was calmer than Maqui expected, but his hand held tight onto his arm. "Cocoon remains unchanged."

Time passed with more information being shared throughout the room. Sazh left during a lull in the conversation, being called in on a work-related project. Lebreau left shortly after, looking to return to Gadot's side.

"Hey, can I speak to Olly for a bit?" Maqui asked.

"I think he needs his rest," Nivien said.

"I'll be fine, sis. Stop being such a helicopter parent."

Mussing up his hair playfully, she pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "I need to speak with Sergeant Farron anyway."

Lightning's brow rose, but she didn't question or protest and instead followed her out beside Hope.

When everyone was gone, Maqui turned to Olly. "I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologizing. Really, Maqui. You've apologized enough. Heck, you even explained yourself when I wasn't looking for an explanation. If things went the way you said, which I don't doubt, then I would have done the same thing had I been in your position. Now, is that all you wanted, Maq, 'cause I'm kinda feeling dizzy."

I should leave it alone. It's not my business. It's not any of my business-

"Do you blame Hope?"

Ah, beans.

"For what?"

"Your abduction." Maqui could tell that the tension between Hope and Olly had grown worse, their interactions stiff and icy and telling of the corroded relationship between them. "Or is this still about Nivien?"

Olly cursed, which threw Maqui off guard. Olly had quite the altar boy reputation. Maqui couldn't recall a time where he had heard a dirty word come from Olly's mouth. "I can't blame Hope for this. If I could, I would. Trust me, I would. Even I can see that this isn't his fault. I knew that from the beginning. It wasn't just a mission when I was sent out there. I wanted to find Hope. For my sister."

"So it is about her. They broke up almost a year ago. You have-"

"I have to what? Let it go?!" Olly's eyes blazed with fury, and Maqui felt his lips curling back between his teeth. "He promised her, Maqui. He promised her that he'd be there for her. Here was his prime opportunity to prove that he wasn't a liar. She was alone. She had no one. I..." Olly pressed a hand to his chest, a pained pinch to his cheeks. "She's suffered every day since the fall, waiting for our parents to come back, spending every spare moment taking care of me. She's the reason that I'm alive. She doesn't deserve this!"

"Would you rather Hope pretend?"

"He told her that he loved her. Did you know that?"

Maqui contemplated his answer. The truth, for him, was always the best. "Yes."

Olly's jaw went slack. "You did?" he half yelled, astonished and outraged as he slammed his arms against the bed. "And you're still friends with that asshole?"

"Things change, Olly. Feelings change." Maqui never realized how much Hope and Nivien's breakup had affected Olly. Olly soured whenever he spoke of it, sure, but this was anger on a much higher level than Maqui was prepared for. "He didn't intentionally hurt-"

"I don't care! I hope he learned a lesson about real pain when he was taken. I think that's the best thing that could have come out of all of this. At least Director Hope Estheim learned a lesson and got to know some of what us normal lower beings experience."

There was that squelch sound again. Maqui's brain rewound to Hope's pitiful appearance as he'd been dragged into the hangar. The desperation in his eyes. His care as he soothed Zalera. Watching him fall to the floor in Sazh's stunned arms.

That damn brand on his arm.

Maqui could feel his own emotions skyrocket. "What are you even saying?! As if you know real pain. What the hell have you experienced?" Olly blinked, stuttering back in indignation before Maqui shut him down. "You know what? Hope did experience real pain. More pain than you can even fathom. He was held for months in some ark, got tortured for hours on end every day. I guess you can sleep with a smile on your face now. Hope learned his fucking lesson real well."

Maqui slammed the door as he left the room, not once looking back.

---

Nivien led them to an empty waiting room on the east side of the building, the only sound being the typing of the receptionist at the desk on the corner. "I, ah," Hope laughed choppily, scratching the back of his head, "get the sense that I'm not wanted here."

Nivien didn't answer him. Her sole focus was Lightning, but Lightning kept her gaze on Hope, "Not needed may be the better term," because Nivien wasn't even a speck in her scope. "You want me to leave him unprotected so we can play catch up?" Lightning tilted her head Hope's way, watching Nivien bristle.

"You aren't the only one here who can protect him."

"Just the most competent."

"Yeah. No. No, I'm fine." Hope waved a hand in front of his face, looking more and more horrified as he was prodded away. Lightning was going to tell him to stay, that she needed Hope within reach, within sight. Nivien wasn't worth the risk or her time. But then he pulled his Comm and thumbed the screen. "Alyssa's been chiming me anyway. I need to check the status on the others with the general. Uh, just… call me when you're done, Light." Hope's smile morphed into more of a grimace as he saluted her with his comm and strode away, cautiously peeking behind his back every few steps.

Nivien visibly relaxed once Hope was out of earshot. She began wringing her hands, fingers twisting painfully into knots as she perched on the end of a waiting room chair. Lightning took the cue to sit. She watched Nivien's leg bounce in place. It was unnerving to see Nivien so shaken. The lieutenant was a confident, headstrong woman in even casual settings. Facing an adamantoise without back-up hadn't been enough to stir her up this much.

"I want... to apologize for the way I've behaved towards you," Nivien started.

"I haven't exactly been diplomatic on my end, either." Lightning sat back in her chair, crossing her arms before her. "It's understandable, I guess."

Nivien smiled a small, unnerved smile, as if grateful. "You know by now, I'm sure, that Hope and I were together. I know that you both are... or are going to... Right...? Maker, this is so awkward..."

Lightning kept herself composed despite wanting to smack her palm into her face. Hope and Lightning might as well have made announcements of their relationship on the big screen. Everybody already knew. If she got one more word of advice from Zalera or Sazh or got one more wink from Rygdea she was going to find a way to shove herself back into stasis.

Sheesh, if Snow were here… I don't want to think about his teasing.

"I still love him."

The statement couldn't have been more obvious, but it was the emotion laced within the statement that stopped Lightning's thoughts cold. Lightning knew how much Nivien cared for Hope. Lightning had to swallow every instinct inside of her as she watched him dance in her arms at the soiree. Yet hearing it from Nivien, spoken so brazenly to Lightning of all people, made Lightning really think on their time together. Nivien had been with Hope. She touched his cold, pale cheeks, kissed the soft bow of his lips, held him through moments painful enough to break a normal man, and was with him in the most intimate of ways. She knew Hope in ways Lightning didn't. Nivien's love for Hope was overflowing, and if Hope wanted, he could scoop all of it back up.

"When we first got together, everyone laughed. I was the older, established soldier and Hope was this young twig of a kid fresh out of school. Everyone thought that he was the head over heels, little puppy dog following me around, but... I was the one that fell in love with him." Her slender hand was held over her heart, her dull, bitten nails digging into the fibers of her sweater. "He was sweet and genuine and trusting. He wasn't like everyone else. Hope had seen so much of the world, so much evil, but he didn't let it warp his soul. He became a better person because of," hazel eyes flickered back to Lightning's hardened stare, facing it head on, "what you all went through. I loved that about him... I loved everything about him."

Lightning sat forward, leaning her crossed arms on her knees. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know now... No matter how much I loved him, it didn't change how much he cared for you. I should have seen it sooner."

"Seen what?"

"He was always in love with you. When we met. When we were together. I wasn't enough to change that. You were this legendary fighter, a savior to him. But to me, you were a block of crystal. A character in a story. I didn't take the threat seriously."

As much as this admission pooled pride into Lightning's chest, made her feel wanted, desired, treasured, it was hard to bear the weight of this woman's feelings. Hope put quite the spell on Nivien, one Lightning feared couldn't be undone.

"I'm pretty sure you guys are together... and it kills me to think..."

Nivien bit down on her thumb nail, nibbling into the cuticle. Lightning took note of the bloodied stubs where her nails were supposed to be. Lightning sat there, not knowing how to move forward. Should she apologize? Give Hope back? Mark Hope as hers and tell Niven to leave them the hell alone?

"...but I know that I deserve to be with him."

The latter, then.

"You think you know him? You think you can love him?" Nivien's gaze became harsh and accusatory, her twittering fingers furling into fists on her thighs. "You haven't been here. You hardly know him." Nivien scoffed. "You don't know him at all. You weren't here when he dealt with the hatred and bullying of those who only saw him as the destroyer of Cocoon. You weren't here when he was killing himself night after night to be good enough for his father. It wasn't your arms that held a shaking Hope, filled with fear and anger and grief after his father passed." Tears renewed the black lines drawing down her cheeks, but she didn't waver. She was intent on stabbing Lightning in all of her sore spots. "It wasn't you who felt his tears running down your shoulders. It wasn't you who agonized over his pitiful acting as he pretended he was better. You haven't been here for him so stop acting like he's yours to protect, to save... to-to love! He's not yours!"

Nivien was right. Lightning hadn't been there for Hope. She would have given anything to be present in his life during those five years. To shield him and his father. To hold him in the cemetery. To call him on his crap when he lied straight to her face.

But she wasn't.

She couldn't fix that.

"You talk as if I abandoned him," Lightning said, voice even, a finely sharpened, but concealed blade. "As if I chose to leave him in favor of staying locked in a crystal prison. You want to talk about being there for him? You weren't there for him when he lost his mother. You weren't there for him when he went on a revenge mission against his mom's 'murderer'. You weren't there for him when he became a l'Cie or when that led him to becoming a monster to be persecuted and hunted by an entire planet." Lightning shot up from her seat, kneeling down before her elder so she could meet those hazel eyes as they shattered at every word. "You weren't there for him as we faced the end of our lives together."

Lightning waited until the words settled across Nivien's face and sunk into her eyes. Into the grooves left from sleepless nights and the trails ploughed by grief. Only then did she stand and turn away.

"Don't hurt him," Nivien replied, voice rough.

Lightning stopped, finding it almost remarkable how much those three words shook her concrete confidence. She looked back at Nivien, who once seemed calm, composed, sturdy, a warrior in her own right, and wondered how much of herself stared back at her. Would she have had the strength to tell Nivien those words had she woken just a little earlier? It pained Lightning to see Nivien this way over Hope, yet Lightning wanted nothing more than to hold on tight to Hope's arm and pull him in the other direction.

"I'll leave you both alone. Just... don't hurt him."

"I won't."

---

Nivien's heartache remained a tangible thorn in Lightning's side until she arrived back home with Hope. Hope was consumed by his thoughts, staring at the hand that had held those of each and every soldier that had returned back home. There was the slightest hitch in his gait, his steps lighter on his left side and his elbow turned in, protecting where the arrow struck.

"At this point," Lightning said, raising her voice to yank Hope's mind back into the foyer of his home, "we might as well live in that hospital."

Hope tilted his head, eyeing the hall sconce in mock thought. "No, thanks. I like homing with you."

"…Homing?"

"You know. Like rooming? Except we're not roommates, just housemates. So, homing."

"You," Lightning snickered, "are the dorkiest of dorks."

"You would know, Queen of Awkwardness."

"How am I awkward?"

Hope sucked on his lips, eyes sprinkled with humor. "Have you seen yourself in social gatherings? Stiff and quiet and the picture of uncomfortable. Let's not forget how you shattered my nose with a door."

"Drama King of the Century over here." Lightning shoved herself into his side. Hope hissed, pulling back, and the humor was sucked out of the room with her breath. "Shit. I shouldn't have done that." Lightning's hands fretted over him, but Hope stopped her, holding her hands and returning them to her side.

"Worrywart."

"I'm sure there's still a bed with your name on it back there."

"Please. Don't start." Hope spoke through a gritted smile, his hand pushing against his side like he was holding it together. Lightning still had blood in the creases of her nails from when she had been doing just the same.

Lightning could feel her lips turn downwards, hands curling in the sleeves of her shirt. "You should at least lay down."

"Hmm… I may be persuaded to do that."

Lightning lifted a brow. "Persuaded by?"

"Do I get a snuggle buddy this time, too?"

Lightning burst out laughing, despite the way she felt her stomach curl into itself and die of embarrassment. "Do not!" Lightning had to stop as she laughed harder at Hope's pleading eyes beneath fluttering lashes, "call me that!"

"I guess that isn't an accurate depiction." Hope clipped his chin in his hand, thinking. "You were much more like a monkey, hanging off of me like that."

"I was not hanging off of you. I was sleeping next to you. In a very… normal way."

"Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to."

"Whatever." Lightning crossed her arms, turned up her nose and kept walking. Hope trailed after, chuckling his way to his room. "I do… apologize," Lightning said, pivoting on her heel to look him in the eye and Hope jumped to attention. "I trespassed into your personal space. Crossed a line. I… should have asked."

Hope shrugged a shoulder, adjusting the corner of the lapel where it curled. "It was rather shocking. Waking up to you drooling all over me."

"I don't drool."

"You do so. It's gross, but also endearing."

Lightning held up a fist, a playful gesture, and Hope held up his arms. She waited until he dropped them to tap her fist into his chest. "You snore like a purring kitten."

Hope's face flushed. "I-I-I will take that as a compliment?"

"I've definitely heard worse."

Hope looked confused as Lightning entered his room first. He followed after, somewhat dumbfounded, hand playing with the roll of the doorknob. Lightning's mind was focused on Nivien's pleas. Her accusations. Hope's wince in the hallway. His work ethic even when benched. Cass's suggestions from atop his overturned couch.

"Play for me."

Hope paused as he reached to hang his blazer on a hook, the garment falling from his hand in his momentary stupor. "What?"

Nivien's tear-stained eyes stared back at her, feeding this empty feeling in her chest. Lightning had missed too much. A gargantuan chunk of Hope's life, his developmental years, essential in forming who Hope was as a person. They were moments and years that Lightning regretted missing. She hated Nivien for having them, as if she stole them out of Lightning's hands.

She couldn't keep casting glances over her shoulder. There were moments and years to be had now. This was one of those moments that she wanted to create. A moment for the two of them. A moment to get Hope to shut up, shut down, and relax. "Your violin. Play it for me."

Hope's brain kicked back to life and he scrambled to pick his jacket back up. He stood, twisting it in his hands as his expression became inscrutable. "Why?"

"Because I want to hear you."

Hope hesitated, focusing himself on hanging his clothing and shucking his boots, lining them up neatly. He kicked aside the pile of his clothes from the previous day. Then he had nothing except Lightning's expectant stare, because she didn't understand his twittering nervousness. "…It's been forever and a day since I've held that thing."

Lightning replied by sitting resolutely on his bed, an audience of one. "I don't care if you sound like rocks in a blender. I want… I want to hear your sound."

Hope stood stiff, one socked foot scratching the other as he looked away with a pleased smile. "I'd be honored." Hope moved to sift through the contents of his closet, eventually tugging free a dust-coated case. He blew on it, the dust puffing up into his face and down his throat until he was coughing. "Did I… mention that it's been a long time?"

"You may have said something of the sort, sure."

Hope sat beside her, the scratched and faded black case resting on his knees. His hands ran over the top, the way they did when holding his bandana sometimes. It was a caress that was careful in its movement, awed in its emotion. He clicked open the buckles. His hands lifted the lid. Hope's eyes seemed to sparkle as he gazed down. His fingers scratched against strings and felt along the softness of the bow.

But then he froze. His expression cracked.

"Hope?" Lightning let slip, her tone a nudge.

"I'm sorry, I-" Hope slammed the case closed, "I can't."

"His mom taught him..."

Lightning hadn't thought about how much pain Hope may have had to face when staring his instrument down. Lightning could relate. She never looked at pancakes the same way again after her mother passed. It was the one thing that she taught Lightning to cook.

"Your mom...?"

His head jerked up. Out of his weird trance. "What?" His voice sounded far away, drifting.

"Your mom taught you."

"Did I tell you that?"

"Cass told me." Lightning looked back at the case, hesitantly placing her hand on its lid. "Don't you ever play to remember her?"

Lightning got that idea from Serah. Her sister loved cooking in the kitchen, following their mother's ghost around as she connected with her through her recipes.

"I used to," Hope murmured. "It was one of the few things that she fought my dad on."

"Hm?"

"My dad thought it wasn't fitting of a man to do something as trivial as play an instrument. Especially a man of the respectable Estheim family. I needed to focus on my studies and getting into his alma mater, make connections and pay close attention to the political world. But she fought him on it and she won. She taught me everything she knew about the violin and every song she'd ever played. When I mastered everything she knew, we started learning more complicated music... together." Hope beamed, his gaze wistful.

There were times where Lightning found herself despising Hope's father. She knew how much the man had loved his son, saw it firsthand. She knew that he tried his best. That every parent carried their own expectations like two ton weights that they hoisted on their children's necks. But Bartholomew's brand of love was hard on Hope, all the same.

"After the fall, I didn't play again. Dad didn't want me to. Said it was too painful to hear it, that it would remind him too much of mom. I obeyed." Hope swallowed and Lightning didn't like that word. Obeyed. Hope's feet swished over the carpet in a shuffling motion. "Until the anniversary of her death. I snuck a song in while my dad was supposed to be at the base. I finished it just in time to catch my dad in my doorway. I expected him to be furious. When I looked at his face, he was smiling. He told me that I could play whenever I wanted after that. It didn't hurt me to play. I felt her beside me. Even though she was gone, I felt her joy resonating in the notes."

"Then how come you stopped again?"

"Dad died. I didn't feel like playing after that."

Lightning gingerly swept her fingers along Hope's, teasing the edges until he snorted and grabbed hold of her hand. "I'd still like to hear you. In the future. When it's not so painful."

Hope heaved a gusty sigh, then looked down at her, gratitude in the width of his smile. "I will. I want to play for you." Hope flicked the case back open. Lightning gazed back upon the instrument, wondering over comments and compliments until she decided to remain in silent observation. She knew nothing of instruments or musicians, alien to that world. He plucked along the strings, hearing their twip and twang. He spent time adjusting the knobs on the end, and rubbing some stone-looking thing on the bow. He stretched himself into the instrument as he stood before her, leaning it onto his shoulder.

"I'm nervous," Hope warned, but Lightning couldn't tell. All she could see was the excitement bursting from his seams. Lightning felt the stirrings of something like excitement within herself. Sitting there. Watching him. She had never listened to a violinist before. She found herself hanging there, on the end of his bow as he lifted it to begin.

Hope lost himself to the music. The way he did with the work at his desk, or in his workshop, all senses focused. He flowed into the score and Lightning admired his concentration, the way his body moved elegantly with the pace of his bow. Nimble fingers played along the strings, his bow gliding with energy and conviction. Such soft, tender notes were played expertly, passionately. He wielded his bow sharply like a blade, yet delicately like something precious. His eyes were closed, and Lightning couldn't believe that he could play like that, with feeling instead of sight.

Lightning found her own eyelids drifting shut, enraptured in the beauty of Hope's sound. She listened closely, Hope's soul taking shape out of the notes, colors floating behind her eyelids in some sort of synesthetic display. There was a current of despair within the sound, drifting in waves of blue, intertwined with arcs of silver. Yet there were notes of hope as pink fluttered with orange, a violet hue of promise bursting forth. It was the kind of hope that could only be found when stuck beneath the tide, struggling to surface, and all you see is the sky.

It awakened a yearning in Lightning. Left her feeling brutally torn open and caught in the powerful current that Hope had created. She could feel him, herself, circling around and around until they felt like the same person, connected and intertwined. Lightning remembered music, how it used to make her feel when she would dance, light on her feet, in her heart.

Fingers brushed over her cheek. Lightning opened her eyes to the green of Hope's. The song had come to a close. Lightning could still feel it sifting through her chest, rifling through her past. "If my music was bad enough to reduce you to tears, you could have told me to stop," Hope joked. His violin was already tucked away. His fingertips red and swollen.

Lightning wiped a hasty hand over her face. "Don't be ridiculous. It was fine. Wonderful, even." Hope was positively glowing, radiating a brightness that Lightning had to turn away from. Lightning couldn't help but realize that she was only a fraction of him. His brilliance. His magnificence.

What are you doing with me?

It was a puzzle that Lightning had yet to find a single piece to. She didn't doubt Hope's feelings, but she couldn't figure out how they had formed. What led Hope's pure soul to her own dirty, decayed one? He had so much love and passion to give to whomever he wanted. There were plenty of people willing to soak it up with arms wide open.

Yet he chose her. A woman whose mind kept a cage around her emotions. There would always be a wall between them, one of her own making.

"Then why do you look unhappy?"

"Because this can't happen, that's why."

Hope's swollen fingertips trailed across her bruised knuckles, soothing as his eyes tried to peek beneath her bangs. "I think I'm missing something."

"When will you realize that you're wasting your time with me?" Hope pulled back, as if his touch was an invasion. "I can't return all that you give me. It isn't fair. You deserve more. Better." She was trash. Garbage. Lightning felt lowly at Hope's side. Wrong as she watched him dance in circles with Nivien. She wasn't good enough for him.

"How absurd," Hope said, his gaze sharpening.

"Sorry if my feelings seem foolish," Lightning snapped in a lash of insecurity. She held herself rigid, protected by her crossed arms.

"I thought we covered this. My fault. I… should have stated this clearer." Hope was quick to tug her arms free, moving to hold her hands in his, thumbs burrowing circles into her palms. "I don't want anyone else, Light. I'd rather live out the rest of my days alone than without you by my side."

"Don't say stuff like that."

"Why not?" Hope dropped her hands in favor of cupping her face. "It's true."

"Because I don't deserve to be with you!" she shouted, raw emotion in her eyes. His touch was scalding, burning into her bones. "You're so intelligent, Hope. You should be with someone that can understand how you think and what you do. I can barely comprehend a fourth of the work you do at the Academy. I'm not smart. I was a high school drop out for Lindzei's sake, okay? You should have someone beside you that's at least half as talented as you. I'm a soldier. I can fight." Lightning reached for her blade, but it was absent from her side. "That's all I'm good for. And you've got this heart that's as big and beautiful as the moon. You're willing to give away all of your love. I don't deserve your love. I can't reciprocate it, I just can-"

Hope silenced her with a kiss. It was infuriating. Incredible. It made her forget how unbalanced their relationship was. All she had to do was sink into Hope.

"How do you feel about me?" Hope asked as he broke from her.

"What?" she breathed.

"How do you feel about me?"

Lightning blinked back at him. "That's not im-"

"Just answer me."

Hope's insistence pulled the stopper that Lightning kept on her emotions. Ripped it free and it dangled between his fingers. "The more I'm around you... the more I feel for you." Lightning ran her hands down Hope's arms, held his wrists. "The more I feel for you, the more I realize that I'll do anything for you. That terrifies me to no end, but it also excites me, amazes me. I thought that I wasn't capable of feeling this way."

"That. That is all I ask for."

"It can't be enou-" Hope pressed a finger to her lips, and Lightning rolled her eyes and frowned back at him.

"I want you, Lightning Farron, and only you. You are my strength and my hope. I wouldn't give you up for the world. I don't care if you think you're unworthy of me. I really don't. It's a load of crap. You are a beautiful person, Light, and I wish that you could see that."

Her eyes met the floor, unable to carry the meaning his gaze was impressing upon her. His words, no matter how charming, were not going to suddenly change how she saw herself.

"I love you." Lightning's eyes shot back to his, her lips parting as that glow came back to him, the passion he had as held that violin. "Forever and always." His hands came up to rest on the sides of her head as he kissed her brow. "Mind," he said, before his hands slid down her upper arms, stopping to hold her elbows, "body," until they slipped down into her hands, held them, "and soul."

Lightning pulled Hope in for a kiss. That feeling overwhelmed her, made her forget every objection her mind held. She would do better, Lightning decided. If she wasn't good enough, then she would do better. For him. Lightning kissed Hope again, because once was never enough. She reached for Hope, fingers tugging at the collar of his turtleneck, pulling him over her on the bed. Desire plunged through her veins and she succumbed to it. She still had yet to settle herself with being physically attracted to Hope. That child at her heels. Sexually… that was still something her brain short-circuited over.

His large hand settled at the small of her back, the other holding his body over her. His broad chest was warm against hers. Her hand felt along the sharp curve of his jaw, pulled him closer by the belt loop of his jeans. Lightning could recognize that he was still that beautiful, innocent boy, just grown into a breathtaking man.

Hope's hand moved to her waist, stretching her shirt open as the top two buttons pulled free. Hope apologized, rosy-cheeked as her bra peeked free. "Why?" Lightning asked, her lips searching out his. She pulled his hand from the place at her side, placing it on her covered breast. "I thought you just declared your love for my body."

Hope's face combusted, and he dropped it into her neck. Lightning could feel his chuckle travel into her ribs, his breath warm down her shirt. "You make me sound like a letch." But Hope's hand caressed the side of her breast, feeling the roundness and Lightning groaned as he dragged his teeth across her throat. Her hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, feeling for the skin beneath. She trailed her fingertips across his hip bones until he pulled himself away with a grunt and took off his shirt. Her hands pressed into his chest, his stomach, shoulders, feeling what her eyes admired. Hope dove back in, licking across her own show of skin. Teeth nibbled across her clavicle, down along the curve of her bra. Lightning hissed as Hope sucked a mark there, down between her breasts.

Lightning raised her leg, twining it around Hope and pressing him closer. Closer. Closer. Until the heat of him settled between her legs. Hope whined against her skin, huffing as he lifted himself. "I feel like I'm being tested."

Lightning slid her foot up the back of his calf. "You're passing. So far."

"Not really what I mean." Hope moved himself off of her, much to her displeasure. He laid on his back beside her, taking a breath.

Lightning rolled onto her side, staring down at him. "Don't tell me you're the sex after marriage type."

"Ugh. Don't remind me of what I'm missing. Not while you look like that."

"Then why stop?"

Hope looked over at her, and despite her open shirt and eager invitation, he looked directly into her eyes. "I want you," Hope said, nipping at her nose before nuzzling against it. "But something tells me that we're not quite ready."

That was a first. A man that wasn't ready to hop right into bed. Lightning ignored the sting to her pride, instead taking Hope at his word. "Okay."

"You're not offended?"

"Nope."

"You'll stay?"

"Someone needs a cuddle buddy."

"Don't drool on me."

"Never mind then." Lightning made to get up.

"No! No. Stay." Hope pulled her back down to his side, tucking her head beneath his chin. "Drool away."

"If you weren't hurt, I would punch you."

"Like that's stopped you befo- Ow!"

---

Maqui picked the crust out of his eyes as he read over the same page for the fourth time. He had already read through the most pertinent datalog entries dating back to the origins of Fabula Nova Crystalis. He ran a bot to check for keywords in all of the Academy's digital files. Alyssa's team was busy analyzing Pulsian scrolls and the ancient codices with their special gloves and itty bitty glasses. All of them had returned to their respective duties with renewed vigor since the Pulsian assassin was killed and their soldiers had been returned. Cass was beside him, sitting like a gargoyle, hunched over a book that was open on his ankles. There was another book on his knee, and a codex open in the crook of his elbow.

"How are you reading three books at once?"

"How are you not?"

"Because I am a normal person."

"Sucks to be you."

Maqui blew a raspberry in his direction, turning back to his work. What his eyes fell on, seemed to click something into place. "That can't be right..." His body jolted up, some of the books at his feet piling onto the floor. "Cass, get over here and read this."

"Busy. Your average ass will have to figure it out on your own."

"Fuck you. I think my average ass just found a clue."

Bushy brown brows rose in intrigue. Cass tipped himself in Maqui's direction until he sagged onto Maqui's shoulder with a yawn. "Something interesting this ti- Ooph!" Maqui thrust the open book against Cass' stomach, uncaring towards the brunet's groan as he brought a portion of text up on his tablet. Cass' eyes scanned over the book as he scratched beneath his beanie. "That doesn't make sense." Cass sucked in his cheeks, and Maqui could have laughed at his confused face.

"That's what I thought, but if you use Casiavoni's translation and then clarify it with Moric's, you get... this." Maqui opened his own document, filled with scribbles of translated texts that were littered with notes.

"Oh..." Cass said lamely, and then he actually read what Maqui had figured out. "Holy Etro, Maq!"

"I know."

"We, uh," Cass hesitated, his voice shaky as he took the tablet from Maqui's hands, "We have to be a hundred percent sure of this, though. If we're wrong, we could end up starting an entirely new war. If we're right... then we know which fal'Cie is behind this."

"Belphagor," whispered Maqui, shrinking under the weight of this knowledge.

"You know what that means, don't you?"

Maqui jumped off of the couch, books flying as he scrambled to find his comm. "I'm calling Hope."

---

Lightning woke before Hope. She breathed in his scent, ran her hand over the knots in his finely textured hair. His breathing had a quiet rumble to it. She hadn't been kidding when she said he purred in his sleep. Morning seeped in through the blinds. The sky blushed with dawn outside. Hope's comm vibrated at his side, skittering across the table. Lightning clicked it quiet, settling her head on her arm as she watched over his sleep.

Her chest throbbed from Hope's swelling bites, and Lightning rubbed her palm over them. "Not ready, huh?" Lightning said quietly. Her hand ghosted over Hope's face, her thumb brushing under his eye. "What are we waiting for, then?" Hope was still shirtless, and she let her hand linger over his skin, the backs of her bruised knuckles drifting over the definition of his muscles.

Lightning would sometimes imagine the scars. Had Hope not reawakened his brand. Had he not healed his wounds and hidden his trauma away from the world and himself. She could imagine the tender, roped skin. Raised bumps and ridges. Starbursts of color left on ghost-pale skin. A disfigured smile and hair that could no longer grow. Limbs long gone.

Would he have been able to work again? Spend hours combing over reports? Souder together pieces of machinery in the workshop? Would he have been able to enjoy the little things in life? Gardening in tribute to his late mother? Holding his violin and playing each and every note with the glorious wonder that was his soul? Would he still have been able to smile as brightly?

Would he have survived?

He would have, Lightning answered herself. Hope was stronger than anything he faced. He proved that time and again. And in times of struggle, she would help to reinforce that strength. She would give him her own.

Pressing her hand into Hope's chest, she longed to feel the pulse of his strength. She was going to utilize his heartbeat like a lullaby, let his sound gift her peace.

But it wasn't there.

Lightning pressed her hand in deeper. She shoved her head onto his chest, listening for a thrum that did not come. She called out to him, shaking him.

He did not wake.

---

Hope stood in the middle of the Agora in Palumpolum. A place that assailed him with memories, both fond and painful. A bench where he and his mother sat in the summer, the ribbon of her sun hat blowing in the wind. The smell of crepes in the air from the nearby food stall. It was his home. But it wasn't.

The world held a haze, the sky a pixelated, unpolished forgery. A dream, then. Hope wondered if there was going to be a squad of soldiers running up to his back. Bullets flying at all angles, shredding the bench beside him apart. His hands useless. Lightning at his back.

"Hello, Hope."

The contents of his stomach curdled at that voice. He could already picture her wicked gaze and that sneer masquerading as a smirk, her profile empowered by her latest wins. Hope turned to find not a ghost of his memory, but a monster risen from the dead. Her presence invaded his precious memories, infecting them.

"Get out of my head already!" Hope shouted, unrestrained, every vein pulsing with frustration. "I should have known. This is more than just a dream." Hope's eyes looked deeper into his surroundings, scoping out every mismatched store and alley. The water fountain as it was from before the renovations. All pieces stolen from his mind and gobbed together.

"You think I would waste my time delving into one of your insignificant dreams? This is a creation of mine." A smugness perched itself upon Castea's lips as she waved a hand before her, crafting a copy of a wooden chair out of thin air. She sat herself in it, and Hope felt icy drops of fear trickle down his back.

It was the chair that she would sit in to watch. The one that Hope knew the sound of down to every creak and crack as she would sit forward, craning her neck to see, her smile ever delighted.

Castea crossed her legs, hands folded on her knees as she gazed around them. "We're inside your mind. This is a place from your memory. Your home from which you hail."

"How?"

"It's amazing what you can accomplish when you tap into the power inside. The true power." Her hand closed into a fist before her, as if grasping the power within the clench of her fingers. "There's so much there to harness. So many things that you six couldn't have even imagined attempting all those years ago."

Hope could feel the difference between them, had seen it, felt it scorch across his face, and as she dug into his chest. He was sitting in a manifestation of her powers, a realm within his mind. Hope kept himself from cowering in the face of her power, enormous and looming over him like Alexander once had. For one fraction of a second, Hope wished to be as talented, as skilled. Who knew how long it would take him to attain such skill over his abilities. How long it would take him to defeat Castea. One look at her face, twisted with glee and malice and murder, was enough for him to snatch the wish back. He would not allow himself to become like her.

"What's the plan now, Castea? Trap me in my mind until I agree to destroy the world?"

"I'd like to think of this as a neutral meeting. One without weapons, magic, or your guard dog to get in our way."

"Neutral? I feel a big disadvantage here."

Trapped. Trapped with no method of escape. Again.

Hope glanced back at that bench, a wrought iron black with a hint of mold growing between its bars. He still remembered how he'd curled his hands under his seat, his glove sticking to a patch of gum. His mother was handing him something. A napkin. An ice cream. A box with a delicate ribbon. Hope couldn't remember exactly which memory his mind was attempting to scrape together, but Hope wanted it. He wanted that moment back. Out of Castea's clutches.

"I'm going to ask this only once."

Hope turned back. Castea was on her hands and knees, head bowed to him so low that he could see the white brand on the nape of her neck. Hope took a step back in suspicion, and shock. "Since when do you ask for anything? You're only capable of taking."

"Please," she murmered to the ground, a forced quality roughening her voice. Her bony hands clenched against the concrete, as if holding herself down.

"What?"

"Please help us." Castea raised her head and Hope walked another two paces back. Gone was the malicious grin. Her expression was not cross or coy or disappointed. For once, it held hope. "Don't you wish to see a new world? We can create one. One built of happiness and freedom. No more conflict, no more pain. A world where your loved ones are only a hand's reach away."

I do. More than anything.

"Your pain was a necessary evil. It was a means to an end." Castea's gaze lightened as she cast it upon his brand. As if it was an answer, a dream, their future. "I thought that I needed to utilize your fear to accomplish our goal. If joining forces can hasten our plans, ease our burdens, then I am willing to change tack. Understand, I will do anything for the sake of the new world."

"Anything," Hope repeated. The word tasted foul in his mouth. It was that kind of devotion and single-minded focus that led to the fall of Cocoon, the deaths of his parents, and so many more. "I know first-hand what your commitment looks like. A girl that laid in my morgue after fleeing your dungeon. I know what it sounds like. A woman screaming for mercy until she had no voice left. I know what it feels like. Your hand in my chest." Hatred, bare from his soul, twisted his lips, making him loom over Castea as a wetness glossed his eyes. "I detest you and your 'anything.' I will not entangle myself in the darkness you lay in."

"Such a sense of superiority." Castea laughed a lone chuckle. "Should I have let that arrow stray a little closer to your heart?"

"You think that by saving me from Aida you'll earn my trust? That that…" Hope choked on the words, felt them clogging his throat with his disgust, "slaughtered woman serves as recompense?"

"I also returned your old flame's brother and the NORA orphan." She dangled her knowledge in front of him with a smile. As if he didn't know how far her reach extended. "Your soldiers were given back to you, returned in the same condition as when they were plucked from their ship."

After you beat Maqui to a pulp and abducted them. Hope took a breath. "I thank you for that, but it doesn't change anything."

"Empty gratitude." Castea's smirk crawled back onto her face as she stood, her hands patting the dust from the front of her robe. "For the space of time that they were gone, they didn't age past maybe a quarter of a day. Your soldiers. A band of children, I should say. They were greedy leeches, sucking on my energy as I kept them frozen in time."

"An enhanced stop spell?"

"A crude guess, but not entirely inaccurate."

"Then how did they dream?" Hope asked as curiosity stole his tongue. This wasn't a leisurely chat. He didn't know the kind of danger that lurked on the outskirts of this so-called dream. He needed to end this. Find an out.

"It's quite like stasis. The mind wanders while the body remains dormant. A fail-safe to preserve the mind's sanity." Castea leaned into his space and Hope felt a spike of hostility draw his gaze to her fingers as her hand was held out. The same hand that had threatened Lightning's life. "Now. We have a common goal. Are our differences that difficult to live with that we can't bridge the gap here?"

Hope's thoughts swam toward Palumpolum. Envisioning a new life as he came home to his parents. As he made it through his school years with Cass and Kori. As he met his l'Cie friends under different circumstances, at different times. He thought of meeting Lightning on the streets of Palumpolum, her fresh from the train, clothes rumpled and her temper even more so.

Was that his goal?

His thoughts turned toward Yeul, a girl whose own life was constantly tossed around by the currents of fate. She fought for this world until her last breath in Lightning's arms. She believed in him. Yeul believed that he could save this world, according to Zalera. He couldn't give up on her faith or that possibility. He couldn't give up on this world.

"I can't. The people of this world deserve to live out their lives. They deserve to decide their own futures. My people. Your people. Stop this. Let them live. We have a beautiful world right here. Why do you want this new world so badly?"

"Why don't you?" A fierceness returned to Castea's gaze, her bark producing the minutest flinch in his arm. "Why are you so intent on standing by your people? You are nothing but a pariah to them. Your people don't want you. Those Pulsians don't want you. But us. Why not join those who see you as a deity? Come with me where you will not only be accepted, but glorified. Haven't you been in enough pain at the hands of these people?"

She was coming closer, delving her hands back into his chest, curling her fingers around his heart. He wouldn't let her corrupt his idea of his people. They weren't perfect. They acted out of fear, doubt, anger, love. Those acts were sometimes violent and unjust and directed toward him, but Hope wouldn't let them lose their home again.

"Get away from me!" Hope shouted, his hand flying out with a concentrated water spell.

Castea ducked the water that came in one long, horizontal slice through the air. It cut into the building behind her like a wide katana slash. Castea stared at it, her hand at her throat where the strike was aimed. "Magic isn't supposed to manifest in this space…" she mumbled.

"I will never join you," Hope declared. "I can't stand you. After everything you've done to me... to my friends... to Light... The only person causing me pain is you."

Castea snarled as she whipped back around. "You will regret this decision. You will get the crystals. I will force your hand if I have to."

"You can try, but I'm not going to help you. No matter what."

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. What if I went after your precious city? Reduced it to ashes? What if there were no people to save? I will win. It's what I do. Resist me anymore and I promise you," she bared her teeth, her glare a vicious dare, honesty leaving her lips like venom, "it'll be a bloodbath."

I will not cower before you like everyone else. You will not win. I won't let you.

"No," he growled. "I won't be your puppet."

Castea opened her mouth before something stopped her. A grin rolled across her face like a red carpet.

One he was using to stroll right into doom.

"As you wish."