A/N: Woooo POV shift! Not really 'woooo' because I've mentioned before how Lightning's headspace is an emotional minefield for me to explore, but yeah. Anyway, sorry this chapter's a little shorter, as it's more of a transition, but I hope everyone enjoys. Would love to hear your feedback, questions, speculation, whatever you like! Thank you to my reviewers/commenters so far! Chapter 3 is in the works...

Chapter 2: Salutations

"Better late than never, eh Sis?"

Snow aims his Cheshire grin at me the instant I enter his glorified storage room of an office. He still has the air of a straight-laced mob boss, arms crossed over his black suit jacket as he regards the room. NORA is already here in force, engrossed in their work around a large map and a pile of unfamiliar communications equipment.

"Not as fashionably, this time," I retort, testing out my modified Wilderness Explorer garb with a quick stretch. At least it's more functional now. Good riddance, sleeve cuffs.

"Did we miss the party?" Hope steps inside just behind me, straightens his uniform and tries on a smile. "Survey meeting ran a little long. Sorry. She insisted on waiting for me."

Our arrival is starting to attract attention.

Lebreau stands and dusts her shorts, aiming a grin at me. "Oh, hi Lightning. Snow says you're our security escort. It's been a while, hasn't it? I don't know if you even remember us."

A while? More like a millennium.

This is awkward. I shift my stance and extend my hand. "Your faces, yes. I keep forgetting your names. It's Lebreau, right?"

"You got it," she laughs as she shakes my hand.

Nodding, I decide to give credit where it's due. "Hope told me your name, actually."

"Who's Hope?" Lebreau asks. She looks genuinely confused, and now, so am I. As close as Hope and Snow have become, and as familiar as Hope seems with his memory of NORA, I have assumed they all must be acquainted from the past.

"Um, hi," Hope says. "That would be me."

Lebreau blinks, only further confounded. "Do I know you?"

"Not… exactly." He glances back to me, apparently torn over how far to elaborate.

I shoot a deadly look of accusation at Snow. "You didn't tell them about Hope?"

"I figured a real life introduction was better," Snow counters, grinning like a fiend. "That honor is all yours, Lightning."

Mine, huh. As his… what? Partner? Lover? Supernatural trauma survival companion?

The others are all waiting, eyes darting between the two of us. I clear my throat.

"This is Hope Estheim," I force out, my voice a little too flat as I gesture at him. "You know – the former Academy Director? Built a new Cocoon for humanity to survive the apocalypse?"

They are not following. Blank looks all around. The burly flame-haired guy scrutinizes Hope's uniform for several seconds, finally managing to ask, "The Academy as in that… institute, or provisional government or whatever?"

"Heh, yeah, that's the one," Snow adds, chuckling. "Wish I could've taken you guys on some of my adventures – I knew a lot of interesting characters outside New Bodhum."

His paltry attempt to hand-wave their memory doesn't seem to have worked. In fact, Lebreau's eyes narrow at Snow with the same sort of skeptical expression I've often aimed at him myself. "Interesting characters, huh," she remarks.

Snow just shrugs, and the conversation stalls again.

"Guess you really don't know anything about Hope," I say, working to smooth over the awkward pause. "Well, what I said was the truth." Beside me, Hope grins in full appreciation of my floundering attempts, and my cheeks flare up at the amusement in his eyes.

"Guilty as charged," he says, with a quick half-bow. "Pleased to officially meet all of NORA in person, instead of just hearing Snow's tales. It's Gadot, Yuj, and Maqui, right?" he asks, looking to each of the other members in turn – I commit the rest of their names to memory. The men all nod or wave back, muttering short greetings but obviously still caught off guard and trying to get a read on him.

Lebreau raises an eyebrow at the whole situation. "Any friend of Snow's, I guess."

Hope's enthusiasm dims and he takes my hand, careful of the bandage there. "Unfortunately, I never did get to make the trip down to New Bodhum from Palumpolum, either—"

"Wait!" Maqui suddenly squeaks. He points at Hope like some circus spectacle. "You're not that kid from— from the Purge, are you? No way! You were a l'Cie with Snow!"

"Oh yeah, he had a boomerang," Yuj chimes in, cocking his head. "Right?"

"Hmph, I remember him now," Gadot says. He directs his glare at Snow and jerks a thumb at Hope. "Little shit stole my velocycle."

Lebreau does a double-take. Her eyes flit down to where Hope still has my hand, and back up to Snow. "Well, damn. Snow, is this really the whiny kid you saved?"

"Yeah, the very same," Snow laughs. He drops an arm onto Hope's shoulders, pulling him from my side. "Go easy on him."

"Thanks," Hope says, his smile returning as Snow releases him with a firm pat to the back. "I've had a few centuries to try and repay Snow for saving my life. I should've listened to Light and spared him the trouble."

"Uh, well… Looks like you guys worked it out," Maqui tries, scratching at the goggles on his head.

The silence stretches for several beats. The way the subject of Hope drops like a hot potato just cements my suspicion that Snow hasn't crossed the bridge into the Chaotic Era with NORA yet.

"Guess that's it for the introductions!" Lebreau announces, hands on her hips. "We'd better get back to work. Oh and Lightning, you'll want to familiarize yourself with the route first off." She joins Gadot again by the communications equipment, grabbing hold of a length of cable to continue daisy chaining it for storage.

Snow musses Hope's hair. "Gonna need your eyes on that map, too. You mentioned a few landmarks were missing from all the available versions."

"Overachiever," I tease.

"So I'm handy," Hope laughs, but the sound is half-hearted. He moves to the table and I trail along, joining Maqui and Yuj in their map review.

"Here, here, here and… no, there! That should do it," Maqui is saying as he takes liberties with a pencil. Upon closer inspection, he's making adjustments on an array surrounding a point on the Crossroads. "Can't really get away with more distance."

Yuj shakes his head. "Gonna disagree with you, Maq. These two," he elaborates, drawing on the map with his finger, "still have a lot of excess overlap."

"Better than a gap in coverage!" Maqui refutes. "We're starting from nothing. Zero infrastructure. These boxes are gonna be pushed to the limit – we'll need redundancy."

I focus on the plotted course before me, which features a few itinerary notes in the margin and estimated arrival dates. "Guess this is where we're headed," I say to no one in particular.

"Oh. Excellent," Hope still replies. He stares at the entire map for several long, tense moments of absolute stillness, his irises noticeably brightening with the effort. "There. Now I know where to find you. And which pieces this map is missing."

Maqui and Yuj gape at him. "What… just happened?" Yuj finally asks.

I dig the heel of my hand into my forehead. 'Has a god-enhanced mind' did not make my introductory cut.

There are no words for this.

"Mental snapshot," Hope explains, tapping the side of his head. He plucks the pencil from Maqui's hand, bending over the map to sketch in and label several different points in rapid succession. "Sorry – I may have reconstituted here on Earth with a few… quirks. At least I can use them to my advantage."

Okay. So there are words, but they are not helpful.

Somehow, I manage to translate, "Having a supernatural memory is an improvement over deadly l'Cie curses. You'll get used to it." I cross my arms and will them to let it be.

I turn to the instigator. "And you can't go tracking us into the wilderness."

"Why not?" Hope asks innocently. "Isn't that what land navigation equipped me for? Thank you, by the way."

"When exactly would you go?" I snap back. "On a summer break from diplomatic relations?"

"No, I'll go when I finish my mission before you," he challenges. His hands are in his pockets, but he smirks at me, daring me to contradict him.

Snow doubles over with a bellowing laugh. "What the hell, Hope!" he sputters. "You trying to throw down the gauntlet? Speaking from experience – bad idea."

"Not really," Hope replies as he places a palm on the map, turning to address Snow instead, while all of NORA clusters around the table with an air of curiosity. "A massive portion of this route has no railway access, which I can only assume is intentional, and you're hauling equipment through difficult terrain. Your team's mission is legitimately going to take longer than mine, unless I fail miserably. I don't intend to wait around here while Light is out there trekking for weeks or months more."

Shit. Naturally, he's amassing information to make a long-term plan. Even without the separation anxiety or protective instincts, this is just his way. A scene flashes through my mind of Hope bushwhacking on his own, being charged by a raging animal and choking on his blood as it puddles around him in a ravine.

This is not just my imagination. Death by vicious beast was one of his former futures.

"Look," I hiss, yanking him by the tie to face me before I can better compose myself. "I don't care whose mission is finished when. Do not try to follow us out there."

Hope tilts his head. "You sure that's what you want?"

Across from us, Lebreau lets out a low whistle and nudges Gadot. "Is she gonna punch him or kiss him?"

Damn it, Hope is pushing me. His smile is too close for comfort – he makes no move to pull away. I release him and jerk backward.

Why do there have to be people here?

"Okay, that's enough," Snow intervenes, stepping between us. He pushes Hope into a chair. "Down, boy. I'm with Sis on this one. I don't want you tracking my team, either, and that's a direct order."

Sometimes, the big lug is a godsend.

Hope sulks in his seat. "If you insist," he concedes, his eyes flashing. "But if they run into trouble—"

"Then you'll hear it straight from me," Snow promises. "And we'll track them down."

"I'll hold you to that." Hope rakes a hand through his hair, getting back to his feet. "On that note, I'm sure you all need to focus on your actual mission planning. I should get going, make some tea, maybe," he says, heading for the exit. As he opens the door, he asks, "Are you coming home soon, Light?"

"I—Yeah," I stammer. "Sure. In about an hour."

The door shuts behind him. I am losing track of the awkward silences in this place.

Despite my delay, Hope seems to have just gotten his hands on the teapot by the time I get home. As I step inside the house, immediately shucking my boots, the tension melts from his shoulders.

"Time travelling, now?" he tries. That smile is cracking. He sets the teapot on the table and sheds his tie and over-blouse, draping them carefully on a chair. "Then again, I suppose I could've lost an hour."

"You didn't miss much," I say. He means it as a joke, but his words surround a core of doubt. He is on edge when he's alone within four walls, as if he can't quite shake the sense that something waits in the shadows to take him.

The fire needs stoking, so I take over the task. "Why did you decide to use your abilities in the open like that?" I ask, not bothering to warm up to the conversation as I stab the poker into the coals. "I tried to cover for you. I don't think they were ready."

"Light, no one is ever going to be ready for this," Hope sighs as he fills the kettle. "I think NORA will be a little more tolerant than most, so it's a start. I'd be waiting and hiding until the day I die if I had to fully recover to get on with my life."

He comes to me, hangs the kettle on the fire, and pries the poker from my hand to set it aside. He puts his hands on my face. "Can you just take me as a work in progress?"

Ending up with someone this recklessly accepting is a bit much for me. He does not see it as courage, but I know better.

"Of course I will," I tell him. "But you shouldn't have to care what other people think."

"Maybe I want to care."

I'll take him this way forever. With or without the uniform, the scars, or the damned god inside – I don't just love Hope. I can't prove it enough. Not in this lifetime.

His smile is so impossible that I wonder if he's reading my thoughts. It reels me in and I kiss him until my mind goes foggy. My hands run away with me, through his hair, down his neck and on to tackle the top buttons of his shirt, my fingers anchoring in the fabric to pull him closer. Hope breaks away for a shuddering breath, but my lips follow a trail along his jaw and past his pulse, lingering there instead. I taste the salt-laced skin of his throat as he swallows.

All that matters is that he's alive and here, now.

Hope pants out a laugh against me. "Trying to make me feel better?"

"Is that a problem?" I don't like the tremor in my voice, but I did get a little carried away. I peel myself back, willing my body to slow down.

"No," he says, smiling reassurance. "I'm just… a little scattered. Can we have tea first?"

It's tempting to push him on this. I can win, and I have before. Easily.

There is something unresolved in his eyes, though.

His thumb smooths over my cheek. "Let's take our time, Light. Please?"

The driving force drains out of me, and I sink onto a floor cushion.

"All right," I relent. "I know there's a lot on your mind."

He joins me, lays his head on my lap, and my fingers thread into his hair. As we listen to the slight rattle of the teapot starting to boil, we watch each other, waiting. His eyes slip closed and the minutes pass. Maybe he's fallen asleep.

It feels just like a normal evening. I half expect an ocean breeze to waft right in, the way it had on the many nights we had spent together in the past few months.

Hope suddenly takes my hand and holds it over his heart. His eyes flutter open, fixing on my face again.

"I can't win," he sighs. "There's so much work to do, but I want to stay right here. Bringing this on myself is one thing. Bringing it on you doesn't sit too well. Are you—will you be okay, with all of this? How can I help?"

Damn his questions, disjointed as they are. I am underequipped, but he always insists on probing into my feelings, so I have to try.

"Your problems are still my problems," I say, struggling to face the blinding trust in the look he gives me. "I'll survive. You can help by doing the same. And writing often."

Hope cracks a smile. "You have my word – I mean, you'll have to write to me first in Augusta to let me know where to send my letters, or else I'll just be pouring my heart out to postal clerks all over the region. Anything else?"

I lean down to kiss him with a teasing nip. "Don't take forever on your tea."

The surge of people on a market day will forever catch me off guard.

Serah spots me the instant I set foot in the town center, flagging me over from where she waits just outside the masses negotiating this obstacle course for goods. We are going shopping for supplies, so help me someone-other-than-god, because I leave tomorrow and can't put it off anymore. She greets me with a crushing hug, and as I return the gesture I think about a simple, problematic fact.

This, at least, is nice. The part of me growing dependent on even the smallest gestures of physical contact – the Lumina who won't be denied – is in for a rough adjustment.

"Are you all right, Sis?" Serah asks, her smile slowly fading to worry lines as she steps back. "We can talk before we start shopping, if you want."

Shaking my head, I try to shed the thought. It sticks like stubborn lint.

"I'm fine. Let's just get started," I insist.

Serah pulls me along to navigate the marketplace, where stalls have popped up all over the town center to form a maze that vaguely reminds me of Hawker's Row. People are squeezing by each other, corralling children underfoot, and chatting loudly to be heard, but it's a sunny day and everyone seems to be in good enough spirits to forgive a few elbows.

They won't notice the way I dodge their eyes.

Taking out my list, I skim over several scrawled items. 'Fingerless gloves' catches my attention and I point this out to Serah, who leads us past several spice merchants and some enterprising person with captive hawks, to a nearby accessory shop. We step out of the bustling traffic of bodies and lean against the side of an adjacent stall, catching our breath as we wait on a large family of customers to make their selections.

"So, I take it Lina has the kids right now," I start, not quite looking at Serah.

"Yeah," she laughs. "She's a real lifesaver. I mean, I'm off work today, but we couldn't have any quality time with my needy little munchkins around."

"They are demanding. You two should really pace yourselves."

"Hey," Serah whines, giving my arm a light swat, "I'm living my dream, okay? Speaking of, you weren't all that forthcoming in your letters, but… I take it you followed my advice, when you got to Crystal Cove. With Hope, that is."

Oh, I definitely did 'kiss him like I meant it.' The launch point into an off-season hurricane.

Taking a deep breath, I imagine melding into the wall for camouflage. "Look, I'm just grateful no one else has interrogated us yet. Miraculously."

"Hm, guess you're lucky Fang isn't here," Serah quips. "But this is just me. Asking my only sister about how her relationship with a certain gentleman is going."

I press a fist to my eyebrows, biting down on the inside of my cheek. Several seconds pass while I fight the urge to laugh.

"Just—" I start, snorting in spite of myself, "Just stick to Hope, please."

Serah raises an eyebrow at me. "Are you saying he's not a gentleman?"

Half the time, he's about as much a gentleman as I am a lady. I couldn't live with him if he treated me like that. But these details are close-hold.

"I'm saying he's just Hope," I sigh. "He's respectful, if that's what you're getting at."

"He better be," Serah replies. She nudges me with her shoulder. "I mean, you seem even more inseparable than before. He must be doing something right."

Smirking, I can't help but take the bait. "Yeah, he can be a real perfectionist."

"Sure he is," Serah drawls sweetly. "So where exactly do you two stand, now? Just in case I'm assuming too much. And I'm assuming a lot, by the way."

Stiffening in place, my eyes dart back to the customers nearby. The preteen among them is looking sour about the hat her mother forces onto her shock of hair. It's been literal lifetimes since my little sister cornered me over silly not-relationships in middle school, much less a real relationship.

"Serah," I groan, shading my eyes. "I never blasted you with personal questions about Snow."

"That's because you were too busy telling him off," she retorts. "And after that… Well, we didn't exactly have the opportunity."

Serah's shoulders sag, her gaze falling to the flagstones. She's right. I have failed spectacularly in the past with any kind of normal sister connection, long before our centuries apart, and the thought needles me – my relationship with Hope is at least worth talking about.

"Okay, I'm sorry," I say. "I know you're just playing catch-up after I was gone all winter. I'll try to make it up to you."

Turning to face me, she brightens immediately, the smallest grin lighting up her face.

"As for where I stand with Hope…" I stall, snatching at words in my mind that don't quite cover the territory. There are facts, and then there is the way my insides are currently coiling around themselves.

Running a hand through my hair, I sigh in frustration and swallow the lump in my throat. "I'm doomed, Serah. I don't think it's possible to get closer to him, in every sense. And I'm not ready to let him go out there alone."

I'm not ready to be alone again, either.

She is staring at me with her big, soulful eyes, and I feel too exposed but somehow relieved at the same time. After a moment, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and turns away, seeming to look straight through the falconer's shop across the lane. She toys with the pendant around her neck.

"I've been there, Sis. Really. He isn't going alone, though, right?"

"He has a team, but I'd rather be with him myself," I explain. "To keep him safe. It's not just about skill or strength – it's about anticipating his actions."

"Well, have you met his team?" she asks.

"No, but—"

Serah gives me a pleading look. "How can you judge them if you don't know them? I know it hurts to be apart, especially now, but don't you trust Hope?"

"Hope is his own worst enemy," I huff. "He puts too much faith in other people and expects too much of himself. It's a one-way ticket to a noble death. Trust me."

"The alternate timelines, you mean?" Serah reaches for my hand, tentatively latching on. "That's… that's what happened with you the other day, isn't it? Look, no matter what could have been, Hope survived. Snow was there – he remembers."

"Yeah," I say, my skin prickling from a sudden chill. "He told me what happened."

She shifts uncomfortably against the wall. "Snow doesn't like to go into the details. It sounded like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from."

There at the end, it was hell for Snow. But I can't guess at how much she knows, beyond the fact that he did turn Cie'th. It's not my place to give away his secrets.

"Some of it was. Every once in a while, I recognize faces from that time and I avoid them," I admit, shame seeping into me even as I scan the crowd in case one of those tormented souls might catch me off guard.

"I just don't know what I should say."

There's more, and it hits me as I take a deep breath of the market air, a sharp mix of sweat, bird droppings, spices and evergreen. People unapologetically living their lives.

"Maybe they don't know what to say, either."

Serah squeezes my hand and lets go, her smile heavy with understanding. She adjusts the bag on her shoulder.

"Well, I think it might help if you met Hope's survey team before heading off on this mission," she says. "Maybe try putting a little faith in them and yourself. You could practice out here in town."

I roll my eyes. "I think I practiced with NORA a couple of days ago, but sure."

"Oh, I'm so glad you're going to be with them!" she gushes for what has to be the tenth time this week, clasping her hands together. "How did that go?"

"I had to relearn all their names, I failed at introducing Hope, and we narrowly avoided rehashing our traumatic pasts," I deadpan.

"So… it was awkward?" Serah tries. She bites her lip, and I curse myself for putting a large crack in her mental picture of us all having a big, happy family kumbaya.

I rub at my temple, wishing I could rub away the memory. "It could've been worse."

"Did you introduce Hope as your boyfriend?"

The term irks me, and I snap, "I wouldn't insult him like that."

"How is that an insult?" Serah asks, her face drawn with confusion.

"Being with me is not what I'd call his most impressive trait," I try to explain, slouching against the wall. "He's a brilliant scientist who ensured the survival of humanity without any god-given powers. I wish I could've put that into words at the time."

Serah shrugs. "So he's an impressive person. Snow is still my husband, and you're still my sister. I don't go around referring to you by your legendary titles. And I don't think Hope's résumé or your social skills are the real issue, here."

"Then what is?" I ask wearily.

"Next up!" the shopkeeper calls, her voice crashing through our conversation.

Jerking into motion, I approach the middle of the counter as the toolbelt-clad woman on the other side turns to restock a few items. I shake off the tension in my limbs and skim over the merchandise, my eyes landing on a pair of black fingerless gloves with reinforced palms that look the right size. Picking them up, I pull one on to try.

"O-oh!" A dull thud follows the exclamation. I snap my head up to the sound. The shopkeeper stares back at me, supporting herself against the table she's apparently backed into. A couple of stacks of hats and belts have toppled to the ground.

My eyes dart down and back up to her face. "Do you need help?" I ask.

"No, no, it's fine!" she says, the pitch of her voice normalizing as she laughs and stoops to pick up her wares. Finally recovering, she rests her arms on the counter as a smile stretches her face. "Been a while since I've seen you at my shop. What'll it be?"

"Just these," I say, handing over the chosen pair. She does look somewhat familiar, and a memory comes to me of dragging my niece on a sled, a wrinkled list from Serah, a beanie for Snow. Hope battling me over replacing his gloves.

"I'm… sorry for startling you."

"What? Don't be silly," she laughs again. "You're my customer, same as anyone. It's Lightning, right?"

"Yeah," I say, surprise overtaking my face. Turning to Serah, as if I need a witness to this oddly normal exchange, I'm met with her knowing grin.

I look back to the shopkeeper. "This is my sister, Serah."

"Nice to meet you," Serah pipes up.

"Name's Andi," the shopkeeper replies as she slides the packaged gloves back toward me. "And these are on the house. Let's just say I owe you one, for getting my sister out of that cult last year. Any idiot can see you're not looking for crazy fans."

"Oh. Thank you." Blinking rapidly, I hesitate before taking the merchandise. Accepting this small gesture feels entirely foreign, even more so for putting a stop to a cult that was worshipping me.

As I finally tuck the gloves into my pouch, I find myself adding, "But next time, I'm buying them."

Her grin grows impossibly wider. "Guess that means you'll have to come back. Appreciate the business!"

Nodding, I give a tentative wave and turn to leave. Serah is hot on my heels. Her enthusiasm practically radiates against my back.

"Calm down, Serah," I say, half-turning as we flow along with the stream of people. "Now I know how low you've set the bar for me."

"Oh shut it," she scolds, trying not to laugh. "You're setting the bar too high. Give yourself a break."

In addition to insisting that Hope take Heaven's Cloud on his trip – because he might as well have an nigh-indestructible sword in my absence – I decide to take Serah's advice about meeting Hope's team later that afternoon.

She thinks this will put my mind at ease.

I think I'll make enough of an impression to keep everyone on their toes.

Sazh knows the way and leads me around the rail yard, stopping us at a point in line of sight from one of many boxcar 'offices.' Hope is back in his field gear, standing just outside and talking to a single soldier in an older-style Guardian Corps uniform.

"Now, you can wipe off your divine judgment face before we go any further," Sazh warns me. "Captain Amodar made the selections himself, and I'm plenty satisfied with that."

Narrowing my eyes, I grumble, "This isn't a divine judgment face. Soldiers size each other up all the time. If they can't handle it, we have bigger problems."

Sazh heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Just be civil. Give 'em a chance."

I nod and march ahead of him, maneuvering over sets of tracks and around bizarre-looking machinery. Sazh veers off to a different section of the rail yard, leaving me with a wave.

As I approach, Hope is mid-conversation and does not immediately spot me.

"I appreciate you taking the time to brief me, Sergeant – I'll be sure to thank the captain when I see him," Hope says, cocking his head slightly. "But I've missed something, here. What's your name? And your squad members' names?"

"Most of us go by callsigns, Sir," the soldier explains. His voice, despite being slightly muffled in the helmet, strikes me as belonging to someone I know from months of watchtower shifts. "I'm afraid protocol only allows for your interaction with me, to avoid any chain of command confusion. You can just call me by rank, or—"

"Glitch!" I call, finally remembering. "I take it you're leading the security detail."

He turns to me, flipping his visor up to expose his dark eyes rolling in their sockets. "If it isn't the almighty Lightning Farron. Knew it was only a matter of time before you showed up."

"You go by Glitch?" Hope asks, tapping his chin as he considers this before turning to me. "Not that either of us have a leg to stand on, in the names department."

The sergeant chuckles at Hope, but he levels me with a hard stare. "So, are you here to call me on the carpet, Savior style? It's not my fault the captain assigned you elsewhere."

"Never said it was," I reply flatly. "I'm just here to meet the team."

"Well, you know me, and you know I take pride in my work," he retorts.

Memories flash through my mind about this soldier. They are hit or miss, but I have no complaints on his work ethic or combat skills. He mentioned once, on some cold night around the fire grate, that he was a survivor from Cocoon's fall, still working with the Corps in the aftermath – or so he pieced together from fragments of memory.

He didn't remember his real name or how he died. Only his callsign and the Corps.

Others on the border patrol have similar tales. Tales so different from my own, because of my actions. I sense that rift between us, cutting off any chance of deeper camaraderie.

Hope clears his throat, and I snap out of my stare-down with Glitch.

"I'd be happy to introduce you both to my survey team," Hope offers, flagging us toward the half-open sliding door of the boxcar. "This way."

Obviously, the entire team is not here – I am tracking maybe ten people, from Hope's accounts, and there are only three in the space.

We step inside and two very familiar faces lock on to me in tandem. Their filter masks are pulled down under their chins, exposing their dropped jaws.

"Lightning?" Biggs stammers, mystified.

"Lightning!" Wedge cries, his hands shooting into the air. "I knew we'd cross paths in the next world! Heard you're still kickin' ass and taking down cults."

Biggs recovers and grins wide. "Sorry that Wedge and I haven't exactly been around. I did promise we'd find better employment than death by gauntlet, and I guess frontier survey's a close enough second! We're both survey techs, now. But hey, what brings you over to our humble railcar?"

This is all more than a little jarring. "Just meeting Hope's team. It's good to see you both."

"Wait a sec," Wedge starts. He side-eyes Hope, who raises an eyebrow at the incoming question. "You two know each other?"

Hope shrugs at the remark. "Actually, I've known Light for a really long time—"

"And now I'm his girlfriend," I state, not entirely sure what has possessed me to rip off that bandage here and now. The term tastes strange in my mouth, and based on the beat of startled silence from the group, it has sounded just as weird.

Damn it, Serah.

"Th-that too, yes." Hope rubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing at the admission.

"Smooth, Chief," the third team member in the room finally says. She gives Hope and the others a look of exasperated disbelief before turning to me with a knowing smile and a swish of her ponytail. "I'm Jessie, your resident mine surveyor. We've never met, but I may have seen your name on outgoing mail. I've heard plenty about you, too."

I shake her extended hand. "Nothing too incriminating, I hope."

"Nah, all good things," she says, winking. "And don't worry about Hope – took some time, but he won us all over. We've got his back."

"No offense, but I think that's technically my job," Glitch suddenly counters, at which Biggs laughs and holds out his hand for a fist-bump. The sergeant stares dubiously at the offer for a moment before pounding it.

"I'm Biggs, by the way, Sarge." He slings an arm around his counterpart. "And this is Wedge."

"Just Glitch is fine."

"Sweet," Biggs says. "Welcome to your best and most challenging assignment."

Hope is just shaking his head. "Okay, guys. You know I'm not so helpless these days, right? I didn't just laze about the entire off-season. I trained with Lightning."

"Ha, well it shows," Wedge remarks. "My nicknames were getting old, anyway. Now our caterpillar Chief has emerged as a butterfly." He takes a comically grand bow toward Hope, whose smug little smirk seems to be all the comeuppance he needs.

"Seriously though – did that training teach you to stop wandering off?" Jessie asks. "I figured that was part and parcel with the brooding genius bit, but here's hoping."

"Oh, that's a lost cause," I say. My sudden jump onto the bandwagon draws their eyes. I turn to Hope, searching for a compliment instead. "But your stamina's improved."

Jessie snorts, clearly reading another meaning in my words, and I realize too late that I've made a critical error. Mainly because Hope has turned a few shades too red.

"Um… thank you?" he chokes. Biggs, Wedge, and even Glitch are barely bottling their amusement. Jessie has slapped a hand over her mouth.

There is really no recovering from this, so Hope just starts laughing. The dam of tension bursts and they all join in.

I am once again out of my depth. My face is absolutely on fire.

"You're welcome," I mutter, brushing past him to leave.

Tomorrow, I'll be gone, and Hope will be teased mercilessly for months.

In spite of it all, though, I do feel better.

My ruck is packed.

I stare numbly at it – a dark, dreaded lump against the door.

Hope's heartbeat thuds beneath my cheek, slow and easy in sleep. Lifting my face, I tilt my watch toward the window and squint at the hands. I can just make out the time by moonlight between the curtains. It's almost five a.m. NORA will be ready to leave in an hour.

Last night, Hope had joked about the irony of my six o'clock departure.

But now it's time to get up.

For once, I really don't want a head start on the day. I trace my finger over the familiar scars crossing his chest and stomach, the faint pattern of lines on his pale skin prodding at the back of my mind. Not about his torture, but something else…

A chilly breeze slips in around the loosening window seal to prickle the skin of my arm. Hope shivers and turns inward, wrapping around me and tugging up the blankets. We stay in that warm, safe place for an endless stretch of minutes.

He releases a heavy breath against my neck. "You have to go, don't you?"

"I do," I say, pulling back to meet his eyes. "Don't be jealous that I'm leaving first."

Hope tries to smile, a tired and fragile gesture. He brushes back my bangs and kisses my forehead. "I won't."

His breathing catches, and I reach up instinctively. My fingers sweep through the moisture on his cheek before I bring him down to look at me.

The tears bleed out in silence. His glassy eyes search into mine, but he blurs out of focus. My throat and my lungs are burning.

Hope gathers me back to his chest. The ache runs its course as I breathe him in, over and over until I lose count, sweat and tears plastering stray pieces of hair to my face when I finally pull away.

He gives me a real, heartbreaking smile. "Are you ready now?"

"Doesn't matter," I sniff. "Are you?"

"No. But I've got plenty of experience to draw on," he says, methodically wiping at the mess on my cheeks and smoothing my hair. "There's just… more of you to miss."

His words burrow into my stomach and take root there, growing into that nauseating sensation I always get from his moments of raw honesty. I press a finger to his forehead. "Hope, you realize I'm pretty far gone too, right? No thanks to you."

"Forgive me?" he asks, his grin a little melancholy. He takes hold of my hands. "Seriously, Light. I'm yours."

He seals it with a kiss, dragging my latent thoughts to the surface when he pulls back.

"What should I call you?" I mutter. "Serah used the term 'boyfriend' and it sounded ridiculous."

"I don't care," Hope laughs. "Maybe just partner for life? Or a few lifetimes. I'll marry you right here and now to give everyone else a sense of permanence, if you want."

"No complaints on the venue," I tease. "But I think an officiant and witnesses are required, genius."

He kisses me again. "Well, we do have one permanent uninvited guest who also happens to be God. Close enough?"

"Ugh, Hope…" I grab my pillow and smack it over his face, unable to keep from chuckling at his morbid sense of humor, but I catch sight of my watch and freeze. "Damn it. Time's up."

"I'm on the coffee!" Tossing the covers, he hops out of the bed before me, nearly trips over my ruck and heads straight out the door naked.

"You'll freeze your ass off!" I shout.

His laugh rings back at me. "Feel free to check up on that!"

Endnotes: Beta-roomie continues to be at it (shorter chapter, but still...). Enjoy :)

When Lebreau has no clue who Hope is: Having read your entire other series where everyone is super best friends, this hurts my heart T_T

After Hope tries to wave away his abilities as 'quirks': Lol I love this explanation that explains nothing XD Maqui, later on in the background: "I'm just saying, why didn't I get super powers? T_T"

When Lightning thinks that she could easily talk Hope out of tea: Wow Lightning is horny af right now, isn't she? XD

After Lightning's remark asking for help from someone-other-than-god: Lightning: the most belief-driven atheist in the universe.

Rando: "wait, you don't believe God exists?"

Lightning: "no, I know he exists, but he's an asshole, so fuck believing in him."

On Serah's comment about how she's living her dream: Oh honey. I absolutely get it, but no one needs dreams of screaming toddlers. I'm sure you get enough of that irl

Alternatively: she dreams of Snow's dick & doesn't appreciate Lightning judging her sexual freedom XD

After the 'perfectionist' remark: Ah yes, the middle of a crowded market. Perfect place to talk about your boyfriend's perfectionist sex habits. XD

When Lightning tells Serah about the awkward NORA intro and such: None of this has to do with your relationship with him, Lightning, omg. Your sister is right x1000. Y'all two have never had the define-the-relationship talk and it SHOWS

Lightning: "I can't introduce him as my boyfriend because he's too incredible for that"

Me: "you sound like a 12-year-old girl with her first crush, jfc. Just call him your boyfriend like a gd adult and move on."

Lightning: "but that doesn't capture our shared trauma together"

Me: "fine, call him your husband, then."

([at me, Hthar] yes I am teasing your married ass ;P )

When Lightning asks the shopkeeper if she needs help: "Are you choking? Are you pregnant? I CAN HELP"

After Lightning says she hopes to keep everyone on their toes: Lightning, fully decked out in battle regalia, weapons gleaming and at the ready: "LISTEN UP YOU LITTLE SHITS. [sees Hope] Not you, Hope. You're an angel and we're thrilled you're here. But for the REST OF YOU – let me make this clear. I've only had Hope for 1,000 years, but if anything happens to him, I will kill everyone in this room and then myself. Ya get me?"

Everyone else: [horrified silence]

Hope: "…..so anyway, here's our route…"

(Quotes from B99 and Parks & Rec)

When Sazh says for Lightning to wipe off her divine judgment face and she denies it: Girl, your entire existence is a divine judgment face.

Because Biggs' and Wedge's filter masks were pulled down: Do you want COVID? Bc THAT'S HOW YOU GET COVID

When Lightning asks Hope if he realizes she is pretty far gone: Maybe he would know if you would DEFINE THE RELATIONSHIP, LIGHTNING.

After Lightning does ask what she should call him: Seriously, you're doing this at 5am right before you leave? Like, good job, I'm proud that you're taking the step, but STILL JUDGING YOU.