Author's Note: And the story continues! I'm enjoying it, personally, and I'm glad to see that you guys are, too. I'm particularly interested in hearing your thoughts about this chapter...

But you have to read it first!


Hope woke around...four in the morning. While he was still between consciousness and unconsciousness, he became aware of Vanille's head on his shoulder. He drowsily turned his own head until his cheek rested against her forehead. He vaguely debated moving, but didn't for two reasons: one, he didn't want to wake her, and two, it was nice to lie there like that.

He watched the terrain gallop by through the window, a blur of hills and trees. It was hypnotizing, and after a few minutes, began to lull him back to sleep.

But before he could sleep again, a clap of thunder rumbled deep as the ocean. It snapped him out of his trance, and he noticed the blanket of nearly black clouds that was beginning to cover the sky. Fantastic. Vanille stirred beneath him and he sat up so he wasn't leaning on her anymore. She yawned and sort-of stretched before rubbing her eyes like a sleepy child.

"Hey." He said softly.

Vanille groaned and looked up at him. "What time is it?" She asked.

It was difficult to read his watch with the little light quickly fading, but he eventually made out, "Four seventeen."

She seemed a bit torn between lying back down and not bothering to do so. She leaned forward to look across the isle at the elderly woman and her husband, who were still sleeping. She sat back in her seat and asked quietly, "How long till we get there?"

"About an hour or so."

Vanille glanced out the window just as thunder grumbled again. Lightning flashed, though no bolt could be seen, and neither was there rain. Vanille hugged herself tight and said, "I hate storms."

Hope cocked his head. "Not a fan of thunder?"

"No, I love thunder." She replied. "It's the lightning." She looked up at him. "When I was really little, there was this storm. Not a bad one, but Fang still told me to stay away from the windows." Vanille took a slow breath. "Right before bedtime, lightning struck the windmill. You could feel it in the air. Like we'd all been shocked. But then, there was this awful screeching. The blades were ripping away from the tower. When they crashed on the ground it was so loud you couldn't hear the thunder." She shuddered. "That's why I don't like storms."

A few miniature droplets of rain pattered onto the window and clung there. The storm clouds completely dominated the sky now. Hope said, "Did I ever tell you why my mother named me Hope?"

Another flash. Vanille focused on his face, accepting his story as a distraction. "No, you haven't."

"Well," He began, "I was born early. I think my mom said I was only...four pounds? She said I was only expected to live a few days, if I was lucky. All she could do was, well, hope."

"So, she named you Hope because you lived?"

He shrugged. "Basically. I hated it when I was a kid, everyone made fun of me for having a girls' name. But by the time we met, I didn't mind it so much."

Vanille smiled. "I like it. It's, unique."

Hope tried not to laugh because he didn't want to wake anyone else. "Only because I'm a guy."

"So?"

He shook his head in amusement.

The rest of the trip was spent quietly telling stories while the storm grew outside. The rest of the passengers woke up as the time passed, and by the time the train hissed and lurched to a stop, everybody was more than ready to get off.

It was raining pretty hard by the time Hope and Vanille piled out of the train and into the station with everyone else. Hope, now experienced in hitching a ride, managed to get them a cab while most others were still taking roll of their families. He gave their destination and off they went. It was nearly six o'clock when they reached their hotel.

Climbing up to the third floor - Hope took one look and the shady-looking elevator and declared it a death trap - they headed for separate doors. However, it was only a door that separated them, as their rooms were connected.

They'd decided before hand to catch up on their sleep, as it was still early in the morning, and the storm wasn't letting up, just gradually getting worse. Hope assumed that Vanille went straight to sleep, but he hopped in the shower. Despite the generous washing the clouds had given him, he preferred to clean himself off. About twenty minutes later, clean, refreshed, and tired, he allowed himself to collapse into bed.


Hope jolted awake.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed without looking at the clock, but the storm was still complaining outside. He rubbed his eyes as one does before allowing themselves to wake, but rolled onto his other side to sleep once again.

"No!"

Vanille's cry stripped away some of his drowsiness. He'd barely heard her through the walls, but she sounded scared. Thunder. Lightning. After a couple of seconds, he thought that maybe that was what had frightened her. After all, she had expressed her dislike for lightning.

When no further cries were heard, he nestled himself back into the little cocoon of warmth the blankets made. She was fine, and he was still tired. He squirmed a bit on the slightly uncomfortable mattress, trying to make it conform to the way he wanted to sleep. It just wasn't having it. The rain pounded loudly against the window, and he began to wonder how he got to sleep in the first place.

After several minutes of struggling to fall back asleep, Vanille screamed again.

But this time was different.

This time she produced a scream of utter despair, and he had no problem hearing it. Something was wrong. Hope jumped out of bed and made a beeline for the connecting door. He had trouble getting the old lock to obey, but that only lasted a few seconds.

Vanille was sitting curled up in her bed, head clutched tightly in her hands. The was visibly shaking and moaning incomprehensible words. Hope was afraid that physical contact would startle her further, but he felt he had no choice. He carefully sat beside her, and touched her shoulder.

She jumped about a mile and shrunk from his touch. She cowered on the other side of the bed.

"Vanille, it's okay..." Hope said softly. "It's just me."

She turned to him, her breathing uneven and choppy. She looked at him, though for several seconds it seemed like she didn't even see him. Then she began to cry.

"I-I'm sorry." She sobbed.

"No, it's okay, you're fine." He assured her.

"I-" And nothing more could be understood.

Hope went to her and held her close as she cried. She trembled against him and clung to the fabric of his shirt. He gently ran a hand up and down her back and began to hum a little tune. One soft and slow, something he'd made up when he was younger that never left him. The melody had always had a calming effect on him, and he hoped it would help her forget - at least for a little while - whatever was troubling her.

He could tell that she was trying to calm down by the number of times she held her breath. Her violent shudders after doing so became less frequent as her breathing slower. She began to relax against him.

After a few minutes, when Hope felt that she wouldn't break again, he stopped singing. "...Are you alright?" He asked carefully.

He felt Vanille nod against his chest before she separated herself from him, just enough to look up at him. Her face and eyes were red from the tears, and he still felt her involuntary shaking as thunder rumbled from somewhere far away. "I'm fine, I'm sorry."

Hope cupped her face in his hand, and swept some loose hairs away from her eyes with his thumb. "What happened?"

"I-" She sighed. "The dead. They speak to me."

Hope stiffened in surprise. "Even still? After everything that happened?"

"No, no." She said. "Not like that." Vanille took his hand from her face and held it in hers. "I just, hear them, how I remember them, in my dreams." She shook her head. "Sometimes, I see them. But every time, they...they scream at me, blame me for...I don't even know. Everything. They get louder, and nearer, until they are everything, and I can't... You saw what happens."

"Vanille..."

"I used to have them all the time, but now, the dreams usually only come when I'm alone. Normally, Bhakti's with me, but I wasn't even thinking about here."

Hope squeezed her hand. "I can be your dog here, if you want." He didn't entirely realize what he'd said, not even when she bowed her head in what he didn't perceive as mild embarrassment.

"I - I'd like that." She said.


Before somebody says something, yes, this one was shorter than the other two. Well, that's because as I was typing, I decided to end it here instead of where I originally planned. Because I can.

And yes, Hope is really dumb when he's half-asleep. :)

So, what did you think?