Author's Note: Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sorry! I didn't mean for the update to take so long, I just got in a rut with this story, and it took until now to get out... But hey, here we are. I hope you enjoy!


Neither Hope nor Vanille talked for a while after that, and that was alright with him. He'd been so focused on finding Vanille and the others he hadn't even thought of the possibility of seeing Alyssa again. And now that he had, he was glad he didn't think about it.

He wanted to tell Vanille, he wanted to tell her everything. About why he never fell for Alyssa, about why he'd volunteered to come with her, about how she made him feel. Like he could breathe, like he was really alive. But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

They did talk eventually, about little things, things that didn't really matter. Stories about stupid mistakes and funny coincidences. It was easy, it was natural, but it was so damn hard.

As the sun fell asleep and they approached home, Hope called Serah like he promised. She met them at the station when they arrived, drowning in questions and soaking up answers. She was sad that Noel and Yeul weren't with them, but the promise of their coming was enough.

Serah took them back to Vanille's apartment, insisting that Bhakti could stay with her one more night, it was no trouble. Hope got the sense that something was off as Vanille reluctantly agreed.

He went inside with her, fully intending on going back to his own hotel room, but he needed to test his theory. Ingrained scientist problem. He set his bag just inside the door as she threw hers on the couch, declaring that she'd unpack tomorrow.

As she started rifling through the mail one of her neighbors had slipped under her door for her, Hope shifted his weight awkwardly, "You never told her, did you?"

Vanille looked up, "You mean Serah? Tell her what?"

"About your dreams."

Vanille's face darkened, and she set down the mail, "It's all junk," she said, avoiding the accusation. She moved to the small kitchen, putting away a few dishes left in the sink.

He didn't want to press, but it wasn't healthy if she'd been holding it in all those years, "Why didn't you tell her?"

She continued to ignore him, and began searching for something - or that's what she wanted him to believe.

"Vanille-"

Hope was cut off by his own pone. He sighed and debated just letting it go, until he checked out of habit who was calling and saw that it was his mother. She would worry if he didn't answer.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hey, kiddo. How's it going?"

"It's going great, Mom. You won't believe this, but I found them. Most of them." It was happy news, good news. But through his worry for Vanille, he couldn't manage to feel it.

Nora gasped, "That's great! I'm so happy you found your friends!"

"Family, Mom. They're family."

He could practically hear her smile, "Of course, Hope."

He looked up, a slightly devious idea forming, "Hey, I'm with Vanille right now. Would you like to talk to her?"

Vanille stiffened.

"Of course I would."

"Okay, hold on," he held out his phone to Vanille, and said nothing else. He knew she would answer. Sure enough, she turned slowly and did just that.

"Hello, Mrs. Estheim," she almost glided to the couch, "Yes, of course I remember you... I was with him... He really has... I'm alright, it's been tough, but I have people I love...and Hope... I don't know, you'd have to ask him..." She paused then, a silence different than a listening one, "...I thought, maybe... Really? Yes... No, I... Please, could you... Thank you... I will... Goodbye," she handed the phone back to Hope, still hiding her face.

"I'm back, Mom," he said, wondering what they had talked about.

"Hello again. I was wondering when you were planning on coming home?"

Coming home? But he was home. Here, in this mismatched apartment breathing in this awkward silence with the first real friend he'd ever had. Perhaps, though, he shouldn't stay... "I don't know yet, Mom. I'll talk to Snow tomorrow."

"Alright. Just call me, okay? You know how I worry."

"I will, Mom. I promise."

"Alright. Goodbye, sweetheart."

"Bye."

For the first few months of life in the New World, Hope had trouble hanging up on his mother. It had always felt so final, like if he hung up, she would slip away from him again. The more rational side of him persisted that nothing would happen, she wasn't in danger anymore. But the other side, the side that conjured up C'eith in the dark and a brand still seared to his wrist, that side was afraid she would die again.

He didn't have any room to talk, he himself had died on several occasions.

Hope turned his attention back to Vanille. She was fiddling with one of her necklaces, distant. Any aversion to him had disappeared from her immediate vicinity, so he chanced to sit on the couch beside her. She didn't react.

"...What did my mother say to you?" he asked knowingly.

Vanille brought her legs up to her chest, hugged them. She rested her forehead on her knees, "She...she said, 'He really has grown up, hasn't he?' ...I thought about everything...you have grown up..."

Hope opened his mouth to speak, but she continued, "She said, 'He talks about you a lot, I think he cares for you, but he'll never admit it.'"

Hope burned, "V-Vanille..."

She kapt talking, as if she had to, or she'd never get the chance again, "And I thought...I think..."

He waited.

He would have waited forever for her to finish, but she got up and crossed to the table, fiddling with something to distract herself.

"I...maybe I should go..."

She froze. He wanted to stay, goddess he wanted to stay, but the tension was maddening, nothing was going to happen until he...

Hope couldn't do it. A thousand years later, and he still couldn't do it. He slowly stood, giving her time to object, but she remained silent. He tried to stall for time, "I still have a hotel room here, so you don't have to worry about me."

She just stood there, not looking at him, not even moving. What had happened? Did he say something? Should he have? Either way, it was clear that he wasn't quite welcome at the moment. Reluctantly, he left her standing alone in her apartment.

(The dumb grey line thing isn't working. I'm sorry. Consider this the grey line.)

What was he thinking?

As Hope sat alone in his hotel room, on a bed he hadn't actually slept in, he regretted leaving Vanille. He knew he would, but that was hours ago, it was too late.

He should have just done it. He should have told her how he felt. How hard would it have been?

Incredibly difficult.

He sighed in frustration and flopped back onto the bed, taking note of how uncomfortable it was in the back of his mind. What he wouldn't give to be like Snow just then. He would have been able to do it. Hell, he proposed to Serah knowing full well she was a l'Cie.

This situation was impossible.

He had done crazier things in his time. He had stepped into the time capsule with Alyssa and left everything and everyone he knew behind. He authorized the creation of the Proto-fal'Cie (which was a stupid idea, in retrospect). He built an entire world. Why couldn't he do this?

He hated himself in that moment, and decided to focus on something else. He forced himself to take a rather late shower, refusing to allow himself free time to think as he usually did. Thinking just hurt. Instead he blurred through the motions of going about his business. Whatever came to mind. He wasn't even sure what time it was when he finally crashed into bed.

She wasn't with him.

It didn't matter, they weren't together.

But they should be.

Says who?

It's been a thousand years, come on!

She might not feel the same way...

Remember the way she reacted to your mother?

Goddess...

Hope groaned. This was ridiculous. He had to do something. But he couldn't, it was too late. She probably fell asleep hours ago. He rolled onto his back, staring at the blacknedd that hid the ceiling. He wasn't going to be able to sleep. Ever. Not until he...

His phone rang.