2. Hope & Snow

Hope roused himself around nine the next morning. The futon in the spare bedroom he'd be designated wasn't the most comfortable thing he'd ever slept on, but compared to the dusty floors and dirty, moth-eaten furniture he'd been bunking on the last few months, it was a slice of heaven.

He cracked his neck and went into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. It felt so good to be clean again. Examining himself in the mirror, he prodded his bruised skin. His cheek was mushy beneath his palpating finger, like the skin of a rotten fruit. It was ugly, marring his otherwise smooth face. Something he would've been bullied for, surely, in school.

Hope had always been a target for them. He'd been a small kid through high school, and only since the beginning of this year had he grown - now he was only an inch shy of six feet. His shoulders seemed broader, his limbs lean instead of scrawny.

It didn't make him any more than easy pickings to the other homeless kids, though.

He combed his hair out between his fingers until it was acceptably disheveled. He needed a hair cut. The ends of his hair was almost skimming his collar.

He rummaged through his bag and found his least dirty pair of jeans. He pressed them to his face, inhaling. They didn't smell, so he put them on and went downstairs. Lightning was in the kitchen already in shorts and a tank top, pouring herself coffee. He couldn't help but notice that she was…well, hot. It felt like a juvenile thing to think of the person who was helping him, and he mentally chastised himself. That big blonde dude is her boyfriend, anyway, and he wants me gone ASAP.

He really hated the way Snow looked at her, but he didn't know why.

"Good morning," he said.

Lightning spun around, clutching her mug. Some of the hot liquid slopped over the side and trickled down her fingers, and she made a small pained sound.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Hope took the mug from her so she could rinse her hand under the tap. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," Lightning said, exhaling. She ran her fingers under the cold water, then shut off the faucet and wiped them on a nearby dish towel. "Lost in thought. How did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in awhile, thanks." He paused, then said, "Your boyfriend's mad that I'm here, isn't he?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Lightning said shortly. "And his name isn't on the lease, so he doesn't get a say." Hope handed her mug of coffee back to her, and she sipped it. "Don't worry about him."

"Oh." Hope rubbed his bare arms. "Did I take his room? Is that why he's sleeping with you?"

She spluttered and set down her coffee. "No. It's complicated." Hope's brows drew together in confusion. "It's not like that. He's my sister's fiancé."

Oh…kay then. "Sorry. I don't mean to pry." Hope crossed his arms behind his back.

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize every five seconds. I know it's weird. You want something to eat?"

"I can make us breakfast," Hope offered. "If it's okay. If you want. I'm a decent cook."

"Sounds fine to me. I'm lousy at it. Snow does most of the food preparation around here. I guess if you're going to be staying here indefinitely, you should just get comfortable with doing stuff around here."

Hope chewed on his bottom lip. "You don't have to do this," he said. "I don't want to cause trouble between you and him."

"It's my house," Lightning told him. "Don't even worry about that. And if he says anything to you, then you tell me, okay?"

"If you say so."

"I do."

He hesitated, then said, "Thank you, Lightning. For…everything." It seemed inadequate.

She waved a hand dismissively and sat at the kitchen table. He felt her gaze on him as he went through the cabinets and drawers, familiarizing himself with where everything was located, pulling out the utensils he needed. He wondered why she was doing this. He wondered if she knew herself.

"Those kids that beat you up…" She began

Hope cracked eggs into a pan. "They didn't beat me up. One hit me in the face."

"Did you know them?"

"No. Not really, anyway. I knew of them, around the neighborhood. I needed a place to stay the other night since it was raining, and I guess the abandoned house I picked happened to be their abandoned house. They weren't all that happy about it. They came back and woke me up in the middle of the night and, well. Then a cop was driving around the block and we all scattered." It wasn't a lie, not exactly. It wasn't the whole truth, sure, but he didn't actually lie. For her part, Lightning didn't seem totally convinced, but she didn't prod him further, either. Her head was bowed over her coffee, as if discerning some sort of portents from its depths. He averted his gaze and focused back on his omelets.

"Oh," she said suddenly, lifting her head. "You're still in school, aren't you? I mean, by the end of this month, you'll need to go back."

"Uh…yeah. It's my senior year." He'd entertained fantasies of skipping it. Since he'd hit the street, he'd had no interest in going back. He felt so different inside now, almost…beyond it. He'd always been a straight A student, and enjoyed the actual learning aspect of it all, but the bullying had always put him off school. But now that puberty had dealt him a favorable hand, maybe he'd be picked on less. Would the faculty question it if he just came to school? Did they know his mom was dead? Would they report him?

"You can just go, can't you?" Lightning continued. "I mean…"

Hope shrugged. "I guess so. But they send stuff home in the mail. I'll have to change my address…I don't know how much attention they really pay to anything. Like…well, you know."

"So you're from around here? I mean, my house is in the same school district as yours?"

"Oh, yeah. Not too far from here. Closer to the shore."

"I see." Lightning was tugging on her bottom lip. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, though he couldn't imagine what she was trying to figure out. How to get rid of him before then?

Hope used a spatula to put the two omelets on separate plates and brought them to the kitchen table. "Here you go. Nothing special, but…"

Lightning forked some eggs into her mouth. "Hey," she said. "Not bad."

"Thanks, I think." Hope gave her a wry smile, and her lips twitched in response.

"You can call me Light, by the way," she said.

It was impossible to get work in this town.

But why? Snow thought as he left the job fair at the civic center in his truck, maneuvering through the evening traffic. It wasn't for lack of trying. He wanted to provided, needed to. But every application he ever put in was met with no response. The job fair itself hadn't be anything spectacular; very few employers had actually shown up, and none of them seemed interested in hiring anyone at all. He knew it wasn't just him. It didn't help, though, that he had no real qualifications. He had a high school diploma and some college, and the odd job experience here and there…

He knew Lightning was chafing at the bit at this point. He knew she was thinking about going back into the military again, and he desperately wanted to avoid that. He didn't want her to have to provide for them. She had hated the military, hated everything they stood for. She had seen things, when she toured in Pulse. When her four years had been up, she hadn't re-enlisted at Serah's behest, just as he had quit his job at the prison because she'd told him to. It had seemed like such a perfect idea at the time...

We have to move on, or it'll destroy us both, he thought, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Easier said than done, especially for Lightning.

Snow walked through the front door of the townhouse. Lightning was sitting on the couch, scanning the newspaper classifieds, her legs curled underneath her. He just wanted to pull the paper out of her hands and kiss her. He fought the impulse. She had accepted his presence in her bed every night, but he had no idea how she'd react if he attempted to take it further. Probably badly.

He didn't know why he wanted her so bad. Maybe it was because she seemed so vulnerable these days. He wanted to protect her, to ease her fears and worries.

He did know it was a bad thing, that she was technically off limits. And part of him wanted to taste the forbidden fruit.

"Any luck?" she asked him, flicking through the pages.

"No. Picked up unemployment money, though." He left his keys and the aforementioned check on the side table, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. She put the paper down and studied him.

"You need a haircut," she remarked.

He sat down beside her. "I'll save us the money. It's not that bad, is it?"

"Your hair is falling into your face. Maybe if you were more kept-looking…want me to trim it?"

"Trim. Don't hack it off," Snow said nervously, running his hands through the length. His hair hadn't been short in a long time, and he wasn't about to start now.

"It'll be fine." She went into the downstairs bathroom and returned with shears and a comb. Brushing his bangs forward, she snipped the ends off with a deft hand.

"There. That's much better." She tilted her head at him. "How are you going to use your baby blues to wile someone into giving you a job when they're hidden under that mop?"

Her face was so damn close. "You know best," he said.

"I wish that was true." Lightning moved away from him, but he caught her wrist. She froze, turning her head to look at him. He could feel her pulse fluttering beneath her skin like a captured thing, beating against his fingertips. Snow looked up into her face. Her expression was a carefully composed blank, but her eyes...

He let her go.

As soon as he loosened his grasp, she snatched back her arm and stalked away, brushing shoulders with Hope as he walked out of the laundry room, arms full of clean, folded clothes. Snow noticed that Lightning had cut his hair too, just enough that it wasn't touching his shoulders anymore.

Hope glanced at him, his face guarded. "Hello," he said. Even though Snow had been nothing but nice to his face, he seemed very wary of the other man. Or maybe he was wary of men in general. He seemed totally comfortable in Lightning's presence, despite the fact that they'd only met yesterday.

In truth, though it'd only been less than two days since she'd brought him home, Lightning seemed to have come out of herself a little more. Snow should've been happy about that, but he wasn't, because he didn't understand it. He didn't understand the disconnect between himself and her. They'd been through so much together, but she could seldom give him a smile.

He didn't hate Hope, though. But he was worried.

Snow gave Hope a smile. "Hello yourself. Doing some laundry?"

"Yeah."

"The dryer was busted the other day, so hopefully it holds up," Snow said conversationally.

Hope looked away from him. "I don't have much stuff, so…"

Lightning came back into the living room, glancing between them. She gave Snow an accusatory look, and he gave her bewildered eyes in return.

After dinner, Hope retreated to his room early. Lightning was flipping through news channels as she was wont, always looking for Serah on the news. Snow finished clearing the table and washing the dishes, then came into the living room. He sat on the floor by her legs. After a moment, he rested his head against her thigh.

"How's your legs?" he asked.

"They're okay."

"Can I see?"

Lightning moved to the edge of the couch. Snow turned and pushed against the inside of her legs, opening them a little to see. The jagged cuts seemed to have scabbed over; they didn't look red or infected. "I think you'll live," he said to Lightning.

She smiled a little. "I appreciate the expert opinion."

"You're welcome." Snow pulled himself to his feet and sat beside her on the couch, resting his arm along the back. Lightning picked the remote up again and flicked to a different channel. He watched her as her eyes skimmed over the news ticker.

"Hey," he said, touching her shoulder.

She looked over at him. "What?"

"What are we doing with Hope?"

Her eyes cut away to the floor. "I don't know."

"Just…why, Lightning? We're barely managing as is, and…he's not ours. We should really take him to the police or something."

"You should know better than anyone how that would make him feel," she snapped.

He did. He'd been a victim of the foster care system for years. "I do know, but Light, it's not our responsibility. He's what, seventeen? He'd be out in a year or less. We can't save every screwed over orphan in the world. I just…I don't understand. Why did you take him on? Do you even like kids?"

"Jesus, Snow. I don't know, okay? I saw him, and I couldn't get him out of my head. I saw him puking up blood in a shitty part of town, I thought he was really sick or something…I couldn't just let it go. So I went and found him. Turns out he's not dying of tuberculosis, great. What was I gonna do? 'Hey I saw you yesterday, thought you were dying but it turns out you're fine, okay, see ya'?" She pushed her hair out of her eyes, staring once more at the TV. "He's a scared kid whose mom just died."

"We gotta figure something out," Snow said.

"Yeah. We will."

"Sooner, not later," he insisted.

"I will figure it out. Just drop it."

Comprehension dawned on Snow. "Does he remind you of Serah? Is that it? Are you looking for someone to take care of again?"

Lightning threw the remote on the floor, startling him. The back cover snapped off and the batteries clattered to the floor, rolling in all directions. She jumped to her feet and kicked the remote across the floor. It skittered some feet away, coming to rest against the wall opposite. She turned and threw open the sliding glass door that led onto the back deck and slammed it shut behind her. The force of it caused it to slide back a little, and Snow could feel the hot summer air wafting in from the crack. The motion sensitive floodlight flickered on as Lightning walked across the deck, and he watched as she sat down, huddling over the edge.

Snow got up, collecting the battered remote and the batteries, and put them back together again. He turned the TV off and went outside.

It wasn't hot so much as it was humid. It was almost oppressive. Snow took a deep breath, then walked across the warm deck boards and sat behind her. She bowed her head, her shoulders hunched. He slid his hand between her shoulder blades where her skin laid bare from her tank top. She shuddered like a fly stung horse.

"Light," he said. "You are making this way too hard."

She lifted her head, staring off into the night. "I'm getting really tired of this song and dance."

"You think I'm not?" When she didn't respond, he continued, "All of this tension is unnecessary. All of your…hostility. This can be easier."

"I don't accept that she's dead," Lightning said. "And I don't care that you do."

"It's been two years, Light. And we've heard nothing from the embassy since they told us that plane was hijacked in Pulse."

"That doesn't mean anything. Maybe she's a prisoner of war, or - "

"Why would they keep a bunch of schoolteachers alive?" Snow asked quietly. "What motive would they possibly have for that? You were over there, Lightning. You know what it's like. You know what they are like."

He ran his hand down the length of her back, his palm skimming her spine, fingertips brushing against her taught muscles through her thin shirt. Lightning drew her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them.

"I do know," she said at length. "More than you. That's why I haven't given up yet."

Snow's hand made the trip back up to her shoulders. "Lightning."

"What?"

"I can't…I can't do this. I can't handle…" He spread his hands. "This. What you're doing."

Lightning turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"What we talked about last night. I just want to move on from this. I want us to make some kind of life together, rebuild. I can't do it when you keep dragging us to the past."

Suddenly her face contorted in anger, and she backhanded him. His head rocked to the side from the blow and he bit the tip of his tongue. His mouth immediately filled with blood. He looked at her, pressing his hand to his reddened cheek, then stood up, walking away from her to the opposite end of the deck where the light didn't quite reach. He spit over the side.

It wasn't the first time Lightning had lashed out at him physically, but it was the first time that he felt well and truly hurt by it.

"What do you want from me?!" she screamed at him. "What do you want from me?" When Snow didn't respond, Lightning got up and came over to him. She spun him around to face her. "Huh? You want me to pretend everything's fine, I'm fine, so you can enjoy a precious little fantasy of us, with a house and a white picket fence, with a dog and a cat and two-point-five kids?" She grabbed the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the back wall. "Is that it? Well, that's not me. I don't want that, because you're supposed to be my brother in law, not my fucking boyfriend. And I'm not fine."

"Do you even try?" Snow accused her.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Try to be fine. Try to be happy, try to see some of the good in life. You're so goddamn negative all the time, and this shit - " he gestured to his face " - is really unnecessary, you know that? You say you're not fine, but why? Some stuff sucks, but not everything. There's good, too." She was glaring up at him. "It's been years," he added. "Years since you've been to Pulse, years since Serah died - "

"She's not dead!"

"Who are you trying to convince?" he asked her. "Me? Or yourself?"

"I hate you," she said savagely. "I really fucking hate you."

"I love you," he said.

That gave her pause. She stared at him, her face flushed.

"What do you want from me?" she asked again, but her voice had lost its edge.

"I want you to be happy," Snow replied. His heart was pounding in his chest, flooding his ears with the sound of its beat. He put his hands over hers where they were still balled in his shirt, squeezing. Her grip loosened. "I want you to be with me," he continued, tugging on her arms, pulling them so they twined around his neck, closing the distance between their bodies. "I want you."

He dipped his head and kissed her. She didn't move, frozen against him. He cupped her face in both hands, resting his forehead against hers.

"Is that okay?" he whispered.

Lightning slid her fingers through his hair and pulled Snow's head back down, pressing her mouth against his, hard. She made a small sound as his arms went around her waist, pulling her against his body. If she could taste the blood on his tongue, she didn't show any signs of being unhappy about it.

Lightning broke the kiss, and he thought she was going to pull away, but she didn't. Her mouth was hot on his neck, teeth grazing his skin, and he groaned. His hands slipped under her shirt, sliding up the smooth skin of her back. He ducked his head and captured her lips in another kiss, sliding a knee between her legs. His hands ran over the outside of her bra, and then under it, cupping her breasts.

"Fuck me," she breathed.

"Here?"

"Yes."

He pushed her up against the side of the house and obliged her. Neither of them thought about the fact that the other bedroom's window was right above them, or if they were being loud enough to wake anyone up, or the possibility that Hope had just seen everything.