Her first week of suspension was over. Lightning had lazed away in her apartment for the past week, unkempt, with dark circles underneath her eyes. She snapped at Serah if she dared ask what was wrong, to the point where her younger sister refused to make a proper conversation. Now, Serah was too busy partying with her fiancé, Snow Villiers. And Lightning hated Snow more than her peers from the barracks.
She lay crumbled in her bed, her sheets pulled over her. She thought of Firion in the hospital, and her heart panged with guilt.
"I need to make things right," she said. Firion, in hospital. And it was all her fault. Lightning grabbed her hair in her hands. Her teeth grinded over. "Why could I've been so blind?"
A knock on her door made her jump. She reached for the blade at the corner, poised into an attacking mode. Was Sephiroth here to execute her, finally?
"Claire?" It was Serah. Lightning refrained from sighing in relief. "Claire, there's someone here to see you."
Lightning tensed. Perhaps it was Sephiroth, ready to hand her the expulsion letter. She was not about to let him walk all over her. It was her fault, that was true. But she wanted to a chance to make up for it.
Firion's face, etched in terror, flashed through her mind. Again, her stomach coiled with hate and guilt at herself. She would rather die than see anyone that moment. She needed to think of a way to retribute for her mistake.
However, the next voice that called caused a nerve to explode in her head.
"Claire," came the monotonous voice of Zest. "I request to see you."
Of all the people that had come to see her. People surely did not understand the meaning of solitude. All she needed was space to think. To ponder how to hope that Firion would turn out okay. She did not believe in any gods or deities. There was nothing she could turn to for comfort in her time of need. She always relied on herself to come up with solutions—that was what Lightning did.
"My name isn't Claire," she said, with a weary exhale. She trudged to the door and unlocked it. The Warrior of Light was indeed before her. Serah stood behind him, so small and frail next to his tall stature. Her arms were crossed, and though she seemed irked, her eyes were dripping with concern. "It's Lightning," she told him. "It's Lightning."
But Lightning almost killed Firion, she thought to herself. Claire did not. She bit her bottom lip. Her eyes were wet with tears. Claire was too emotional. Lightning was not. Perhaps there was a flaw in both people? Then who should she choose?
"I have come to talk to you," Zest replied.
"You already told me that!" she snapped.
"Light!" Serah placed her hands on her hips. "Look that's enough. The Warrior of Light has come all this way to take you back to the barracks. Atleast show some manners." Her features softened. "Please Claire. Let me help you. Stop trying to do things by yourself."
"Your sister is very wise," said Zest. His unabashed expression did not change when Lightning shot him a derisive scowl. Instead, he held a hand towards her. "We all make mistakes, but that does not make us any less of a warrior. As General now, I beseech Captain Farron to join us once again. Your efforts and talent must be passed onto young Frioniel once he recovers."
A surge of emotions overwhelmed her. It appeared that Sephiroth had given him the job earlier than she anticipated. That meant she was beaten by someone who was promoted as Captain after her. All those years of training, they vanished into the fleeting wind. But he also mentioned Firion.
"He'll be okay?" she asked.
Zest tilted his head and blinked. "Have you not visited him yet?"
She gazed at her mismatched socks. "I couldn't bring myself to face him." Her vision grew hazy. She had to wallow her pride and expose her sensitive soul to her rival.
"I'll go make us some tea." Serah beamed, perhaps glad that her sister was finally opening up her heart. Before leaving, she touched Zest's arm. "…thank you. I'm so glad you came."
Before she knew it. She was in the living room, with Zest sitting on the couch opposite her. There was mug of boiling coffee in their grasp. But her hands were immune to the heat. She was numb inside, like frozen ice. Slowly, she could feel it melt away. Serah had left them, claiming she had to meet her fiancé just then.
Zest sipped loudly on his coffee. His bland expression suddenly contorted to shock. Lightning perked a brow.
"Not a coffee person?"
"I prefer the likes of tea," he confirmed. "Coffee is much too strong for me."
"Why'd you come for me?" Lightning frowned. "I almost killed Firion. My…" She bit her bottom lip again. It was getting chapped at this rate. She tasted blood. "My carelessness almost killed another soldier."
"Your skills are invaluable. Our barracks need that no doubt. I believe you will one day become a General too." Zest's tone was so monotonous that she refrained from rolling her eyes. "I mean it, Claire. "
"Oh spare me the chit-chat," she lamented. Then shook her head. If she wanted a second chance, then she should suck up and face reality. He was offering it to her. He was now her boss, so she could not refuse. However, she took this as an opportunity to rectify her mistakes. She would promise herself not to push others over her own desires to rise in the military ranks.
"I am serious Claire."
She wanted to ask him if there was ever a time in his life when he was not serious, but decided to let it pass.
"Alright," she said, unable to meet his piercing gaze. "I'll do it."
"Then I expect to see you soon." He set the mug aside. He gave her a strange look, one of bemusement. "Perhaps you should consider a little grooming, Captain Farron." She could hardly believe he put on his professional tone. "I consider you a good example for our cadets. It is time to let the light shine."
"Oh no, don't start that fairytale talk with me."
He shrugged. "I was hoping to ask you one day, but for a strange reason unknown to myself, I believe you might be interested in chess."
"Huh?" Lightning prevented herself from smiling. To her, it appeared that he was extending a hand of friendship. "Sure, why not?" She regretted it as soon as the words left her tongue.
"Excellent. Then I shall also you see you in the zoo."
"A game of chess in the zoo? Don't tell me your opponents are the monkeys."
He smiled. It struck her with surprise. His features, which were so stoic and insipid, moved languorously to smile. His plain way of staring at her, with nothing but those piercing wintry eyes. Those stony lips could hardly curl into a smile. But yet here he was, the damned Warrior of Light himself, smiling and even emitting a chuckle.
"You are quite amusing at times," he said. "What a pity that Sephiroth created a wedge between us from the start."
"I wasn't trying to be funny." Her heart was unusually lighter. The doorbell rang, and she jumped. "Damn, I'm not ready to answer the door." She glanced at him. "Could you do me a favour and get the door please? Tell them I'm not here."
He opened his mouth. "But-"
"Just go, quickly!" It was a rash decision, making Zest Light answer the door for her. She knew people would be quick to summon rumours in her neighbourhood. After all, her neighbours hated her. The last time she gave out to Tifa Lockhart's adopted children for stomping on her flowers, someone had punctured her Mercedes' tyres. Tifa feigned ignorance over the whole matter. In any case, no one must see her in such a dismal state. She was only learning to get back on her feet again.
As Zest left, she began to ponder over her initial ire over him. Competition certainly caused her to overlook his more redeeming qualities. However, she also hated his stupid, princely speeches and the way he stared at everything like they were beneath his nostrils. But the more she ruminated over his desire to see her in the barracks, the more she realised why he deserved the title of General over her.
Skills and strategy could only get a person so far in their life. Personality won in the end. And the Warrior of Light's care for his comrades and colleagues was an attribute that she now found enticing. If she had been as good to Firion as he was to Cecil, then she too would have been in his spot now.
As Lightning stared at the untouched coffee in her mug, Zest appeared around the corner.
"Umh, Claire?"
"I'm not here, remember?" she muttered through her teeth. For someone so heroic and monotonous, and so stringent with rules, she ought to have known better than to tell Zest to lie. A little white lie never hurt—that's what she believed. But maybe she demanded too much from him.
He shuffled with discomfort. "There is someone important at the door. She wishes to see you."
Lightning slammed her palm on the table. The mugs shook. "Dammit Light, I told you that I'm not here!"
A figure peered over Zest's shoulder. "Hello Lightning."
Her insides turned to stone, and the knot was so heavy she could have fell on her knees. Her throat closed until she gasped for breath. Behind Zest was the person Lightning wished to see the least. Shame filled her to the bone, and all she wanted to do was disappear.
Yuna gazed at her solemnly. She was dressed elegantly again in a light pink blouse and navy skirt. Her mismatched eyes were obvious in the morning light. Her hands were joined in front of her, a floral-shaped bracelet sliding down her wrist. Lightning searched her face for any misgivings. She wore the look of ambivalence.
"Lightning…." Yuna inhaled a deep breath. "I don't blame you…for what you did to Firion."
Her heart was throbbing as if it was stabbed by pikes. "Yuna, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice raspy and sore.
"But…I don't blame you." Yuna took another breath. Then, her lips strained into an uncertain smile. "And you've been so good with me that night I first met you. Please come back…to the Phantom Train."
"The Phantom Train?" Zest moved forward. "I trust you have heard of the misfortunes that link with the Phantom Train? Claire, this is outrageous."
Lightning rubbed her temples. "Could you please leave us?"
"But Claire-"
"I mean it," she muttered through gritted teeth.
Zest cleared his throat. He nodded at Yuna. "Good day to you." Then, he left without another glance. Strangely, the void he left behind convoluted her sentiments. She felt unusually empty, and alone. How did she do this all by herself? The hollow walls of the house caved in around her. The silence in the atmosphere was suffocating.
"I'll join you again, Yuna," she said. "On one condition."
Yuna placed a hand over her heart. Her attention focused on Lightning. "Yes?"
"I want you to take me to Firion." Lightning pursed her lips. "Please."
Her friend's smile was so warm, like a warm summer's day. Comforting. "I'll be glad to."
:::::::::::
When Yuna returned to the platform that night with Lightning, Golbez and Cloud stopped talking. In any case, the scene displayed Golbez drawling with his poetry and Cloud pretending that he heard word. It was once again a misty night, but the brume did not cover the stars. Most people were away, with no match on for the next week.
"Lightning?"
Next to Lightning, Yuna felt small and plain. The older woman's height, her toned muscles and beautiful physiognomy was a gift of nature. She wondered why God decided to give everything to some people.
"Yes?"
"That man in your house…" She sensed Lightning tense until her knuckles cracked. "He called you by another name."
If she peered through her eyes, she caught Lightning blushing. "Oh that." She waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter. He never listens to me."
"It's just, I feel like I've heard that name before," Yuna replied. She pried through her hazy memories, but nothing connected that name with a face. In any case, she could hardly remember what that name was. It was like hearing the tune of a familiar song but not remembering the words.
Lightning stared at her, and Yuna had not seen such sadness in her cold blue eyes. There was a grunt from Cloud.
He nodded at Lightning. "You okay?"
It was alarming, and Yuna saw that Lightning and Golbez also found his response confounding. Cloud rarely talked to them, let alone ask them about their mood. And to Lightning of all people—who did not show an ounce of respect on the night she boarded the Phantom Train. Yuna was afraid if Lightning would snap.
The female soldier crossed her arms against her chest. "Just work stuff. You know what it's like in that place."
Cloud's expression faltered. His stoic coolness dissipated into one of anxiety and suffering—and Yuna had to push aside her maternal instincts that screamed to give him an embrace. "I know," he said, louder than she expected. "All to well."
"So you do," Lightning replied.
Golbez listened intently, his coat hung about his shoulders, and when the wind blew, it looked like a cape. His silver hair glinted under the lamplights. "Pray tell me, Lightning. You have heard about the rumours attached to the Phantom Train, and the fate that comes with it. Why did you return?"
Yuna paused on that thought. Golbez was the one to convince her that the Phantom Train was not involved in destroying anyone's fate. Yet why was he bringing it up? Unless he wished to study Lightning's thoughts, she could not comprehend his words.
Lightning snorted, shaking her head. The cold night air left her cheeks and nose flushed. She did not shiver, but gripped the scarf around her neck. "Fate? I'll be the decider of that, Golbez. I don't believe in such mumbo-jumbo."
As she spoke, they heard the melancholic whistle of the Phantom Train edging closer, like the sound of a child laughing hysterically. Each entrance left Yuna's heart beating wildly behind her ribcage. The wheels clanked against the metal tracks. The smoke from the sprout puffed into the air, mingling with the mist. And with the smoke left the dreaded emotions of all in the train station.
The doors swept aside to reveal the whiteness that illumined within. Her heart skipped a beat. Bartz did not step out to greet them this time. He was there for the past week, and she had seen his friends once more during that time, but his presence at the station was like a globe of happiness. Without his familiar cheerfulness to welcome them, the Phantom Train looked like a menacing wreck.
Yuna waited for someone to address his absence but no one uttered a word. Cloud sauntered in with a hopeful gait. Golbez stared at the moon, uttering "True beauty is inconceivable." He walked so gracefully that he could have passed for floating in the air. Lightning was lost in her ruminations, clenching and unclenching her fists.
"This machine can't change my fate," she whispered. "Are you coming in, Yuna?"
The younger woman shook her head. "No—I mean….yes." Where was Bartz? She could vocalise her concerns but she was afraid that the others would see right through her. After Squall, she realised how transparent she truly was. She followed Lightnig inside, her head bowed.
Like a remedy for her soul, Bartz was seated inside. But there were blue crescents underneath his eyes. He kept coughing into his fist, and his hazel eyes, which shifted to gold or blue depending on the light, were rheumy.
"Are you sick?" Yuna gasped. Her limbs were heavy with dread. It was difficult to not run over and cradle him in her arms.
Squall began laughing at the other end, snoring into his palm. "The prince decided to take a drink yesterday."
"Not funny Squall," Bartz croaked, his energetic voice dulled like that of an old's man.
"Children these days," harrumphed Gabranth, as filthy as ever. "Learn to control your urges, you fools! Or else you'll end up like me."
"One can only grow if one makes mistakes," Golbez added, chuckling under his breath.
Yuna tried to feel sympathy for Bartz, but repulsion coiled around her. How could he try to drink alcohol when he knew he was allergic? Tidus often took a beer or two when she was not around, but he understood that she considered it a sin to gulp down alcohol. Bartz was supposed to be better than her husband. He was meant to be pure, ethereal and something out of the fantasy novels.
But here he was, twisted in pain, like a miserable wretch. Her anger quickly faded to that of concern and affection.
"Do you…need any help?" she asked. Her skin crawled, and it often did that when she saw Squall glaring at her from the corner of her perspective.
Bartz shook his head, waving her away. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me."
"How could I not?!" she implored. Her outburst caused a stir, and she clasped her hands over her mouth. "I mean…you need to look after yourself. What would your parents think?"
Perhaps it was something she said, but all alacrity left Bartz. He avoided eye contact, hands on his knees. However, his lips curled into a smile, though she knew it was forced. "You're right. What would they think?"
"Bartz?" Squall's voice was laced with fierce loyalty. "You sure you can do this class?"
His friend responded with a gentle laugh. "I'm fine, Squall." But Bartz could not make eye contact with her anymore. Yuna felt the heat rush to her face. Her stomach twisted into knots. While she took the seat beside Lightning, she wrung her hands over and over again.
"He's hurt," she said, wondering why his misery cut a hole through her heart.
"Should have known better," said Lightning. "Boy's allergic to alcohol but he still wanted to get drunk."
Yuna caught Golbez send her a sympathetic look. The moonlike man stared out the window, at the mist that took shape of silhouettes that constantly changed. She glanced at Bartz but he was chatting animatedly with Squall and Gabranth, as if nothing had passed. She wondered if her words were too prudent. Perhaps he shared a broken relationship with his parents. After all, he did live away from home, and the life of a painter was not stable, moving around everywhere.
She ought to have predicted the situation before. His coughs rattled the carriage, and she could feel her own throat burn just hearing him.
The train came to a halt for the next set of passengers. She searched for Terra and Luneth. However, Luneth entered without the timid girl. She saw the disappoint flit off Cloud's face.
"Whassa the matter with you?" Luneth growled, when Bartz fell into a haggard coughing fit again. "Must have been the cooties from a girl you've kissed."
"Watch it." Bartz pointed a rude finger at the teen. "I've seen you snog a handful of girls before."
The colour drained from the belligerent teen's face. "Did not!"
The painter beamed, fists over his hips. "Did too."
"Did not!" screamed the boy.
"Did too," said Bartz.
"Did. NOT!"
"….did too!"
In the corner, Squall smacked a palm on his forehead, rolling his eyes. Golbez sighed amusedly while Gabranth glared at them with vicious hatred. He pounded a fist against the wall to garner their attention. It worked.
"This is not the time to be dallying. We have a painting class to start."
Luneth scratched his head, scowling at Bartz. If eyes could kill, then daggers would have bounced at the painter just there. Then, Luneth distanced himself into a cocoon, sniffing away rheumy tears. He ensconced in the corner, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. Cloud watched him for a certain time, though Yuna could not tell if he would make an attempt to speak with the child. But as Luneth ignored his surroundings, Cloud too faded into a dreamworld of his own.
Bartz commenced the first lesson, but then he vanished to Luneth's side, speaking in a hushed tone. Squall also lifted himself from his chair, and followed his friend. It was an endearing sight, the two young men consoling the child. Cloud was the third to join them. After a few more…
"I still can't do this," Lightning exclaimed, her paintbrush trembling in her grasp. Her field of flowers looked more like blotches of tomatoes splattered on a green background. Yuna joined her hands. She did not want to ignore Lightning, but she was curious what was going on with Luneth.
Eventually, Bartz gathered round to give his students their tips. Luneth was sitting next to Cloud, and they simply spoke to one another in hushed tones. Squall stared at the blank canvas where he could paint no colour. Gabranth frowned when Golbez received praise once again.
And the Phantom continued to reel ahead, into an uncertain future. Yuna once believed that it endangered the lives of those that boarded it. She now wondered if she should have kept that belief.
::::::::::::
The stop for the Evil Forest resounded in her ears. Bartz would stay behind to see where the journey ended that night. But he was so sick, Yuna was afraid he would collapse into a dejected heap inside the Phantom Train. And if one would not get off at the last stop, what would become of them?
As people left their canvas one by one, she waited for them all to leave. Squall was not leaving, however. The way he gloated her reminded her of a lion ready to kill their prey. But she had met lions before, like Ifrit, and tamed them too. And in any case, lions might have been the leaders of their pride, but they were certainly lazy leaders at that.
She mustered her courage, because she had to push herself for forgiveness. Bartz might have been offended, but he made a good show of not expressing himself. Or was he simply that carefree?
"Bartz? Are you staying behind?"
"Huh?" Bartz glanced from the paintings. "Did you say something?"
"He's not," said Squall. "We're going back to Balamb. Now. Come on, you're getting off. Or I'll make you get off."
"If I could…make a suggestion?" Yuna offered.
"Sure-" "No-" The two friends stared at one another.
Squall slapped the painter's shoulder. "You're not going anywhere today." Yuna pressed her palms over her heart.
"Why do you have to be so mean?" she whispered. Although she had not intended to say it out loud, she heard Squall murmur, "Whatever."
"What's up, Yuna?" Bartz placed his hands behind his head, kicking at the empty air with one leg. "Don't mind, Squall. He's always like this."
Squall rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Can't you be serious for once? I'm out." He strutted outside with salient irritation.
His leave was necessary for her to breathe again. "My father owns an apothecary…I'd like to give you something for your illness."
Bartz rubbed his chin. "I think I'll be fine, though. But thanks for the suggestion."
"No, please." She was about to grab his arm, but stopped herself, almost on the brink of tears. "Please?" He let his barriers fall down, and she caught that rare glimpse of the clockworks of his soul. They clicked and clacked like the clock that was attached to his life. Such a summer's soul like his should not wallow in the darkness of sickness. It was unforgivable.
Her father Braska often said that people were not worthy of the sun, because they never appreciated it's beauty.
"I'll be worried if you're still sick," she pleaded.
"In that case, I'll come over." He smiled a ghost of a smile, before rubbing the back of his neck. "Besides, you still have to take me that zoo place of yours."
Her heart jittered inside her. "The…zoo?" She conjectured he had forgotten that.
He chuckled, clicking his fingers. "See? I remembered it. It's probably stupid of guys expecting a girl to take them out on a date, but sure, whateves." A faint blush danced across his cheeks. "Besides, Zidane made a bet with me. If you don't take me out on a date, then I'll have to buy him his next drink." He paused, rapping his knuckles over his forehead. "Stupid me—I didn't mean to say that!" Bartz waved his palms at her apologetically. "It's not like I'm reminding you because Zidane dared me. What I mean to is…Ahem…I'd really like to go with you."
She tilted her head to the side. A date? Her morose was conquered by euphoria in the wink of a second.
:::::::::::
"Here you are," said Lightning. She was kind enough to drop Bartz and Yuna outside her father's shop, that little place sandwiched between two music stores. Bartz surveyed the empty street with childish delight while Yuna fumbled for her keys.
Lightning glanced at her hand, and it took Yuna a moment to realise that she stared at her naked ring finger. The older woman opened her mouth, as if she wanted to speak, but then shook her head.
Before leaving, she nodded at Bartz. "He's a good kid. Just…make sure he knows." She did not expand on her words, but drove off, leaving Yuna drowning in guilt once again.
"I can't wait to see what's inside," said Bartz. It was not long before his cough took hold of him again, forcing her to hurry.
Yuna unlocked the front door and beckoned him in by the hand. She switched on the lights. He inspected the many herbs on the shelves with genial curiosity, rubbing his chin, and reading over the ingredients on the back. She reached for a rare herb that was also the most expensive.
"Here."
His eyes widened. "Esuna? No, I'll have to pay for this."
"Take it," she countered, pushing it into his hands. "It's…on me. Please."
"I swear, this'll be haunting me, Yuna. I don't like to take things like that."
"It's a gift," Yuna added hastily. "Please?"
He sighed in defeat. "Okay, if you let me pay for the zoo."
"That'll be free. I'm a yearly member."
Bartz yelled in frustration. "Great, I'm in debt to you now. Thanks, Yuna."
"Would you…like some tea?"
They ended up sitting by the chairs behind the counter. Her tea was not the best and he almost choked on it. Instead, Bartz opted to make it instead. He made a special kind of tea, which he claimed hailed from the city of Lucis, in the palace itself. It was a luxurious tea, one that Yuna never tried before. She could hardly believe that her father had all the herbs in the store for it.
"If you've been traveling around like me, you'll also learn to cook and brew," Bartz commented, laughing at her disbelief.
They chatted about many things, like animals, places, paintings (though she knew not the name of a single painter). She also did not shy away about her homeland, the white sunny isles of Besaid.
"I'd like to go there someday," he told her. With pink cheeks, he added, "Together?"
Her heart could have exploded. Was that his way of reciprocating her feelings? She could hardly tell. He was always kind to everyone he met. She could not distinguish kindness from interest.
"You…really want to?"
He nodded. "Of course."
It was not until the sun peaked through the blinds when a towering shadow stood over them. Yuna almost fell off her chair when she saw her father, wearing his morning priest robes, and his face a gaunt terror. He eyed Bartz with wariness, but the latter simply introduced himself with his habitual enthusiasm.
"What do you do?" Braska asked, raising a brow.
"Yuna comes to my painting classes on—"
"On that little place by the bridge," she interjected. Bartz glanced at her, and she noted confusion sprawled over his features. "He was unwell, father, so I decided to bring him here and give him some herbs." She stared at her feet.
She rarely lied to her father, and in doing so, she wanted to vanish from existence Braska made no note of it. He simply gave a few more remedies to Bartz, who insisted on purchasing them this time.
"I'll see you around?" The painter waved at her.
"Yes, at the classes," she replied, colder than she intended. He made no notion of being hurt by her words.
Once he left, Braska turned to her, like a stony gargoyle.
"Did anyone ever tell you, my dear Yuna…that you're a bad liar?"