The streets were abandoned; there had been a curfew enforced in the small city for the last few days. She kept to the shadows, avoiding discovery as she made her way to the Bodhum Regiment headquarters. She needed a way out of town, and the keycard in her breast pocket would be her ticket... if it hadn't been deactivated yet. She was no longer a member of the Guardian Corps; she'd turned in her resignation the day she'd boarded the Purge train. When she'd gone to Amodar that day he seemed to take her resignation rather lightly. They had always had a comfortable relationship; he was a pretty decent boss when she thought about it. He preferred to use informal language during their dealings, and always had more than enough praise about and for her. He was a number of years older than she, and her superior, but he treated her as an equal. His lack of formality had been somewhat uncomfortable at first, and she never fully relaxed around him due to the respect she held for his rank and for the man himself. She appreciated that he felt comfortable around her to be able to speak freely; even if she did not share the sentiment.
She hadn't intended on divulging her plan to him when she entered his office, and in the end she had only told him that she needed time to take care of some family matters. He simply nodded; never the type to pry even though it was his right to do just that. The Bodhum Regiment was small and everyone knew everything about everyone else; so usually the information was there if one sought it out. Lightning Farron, although, was a private one. She wasn't chummy with any of the other officers and didn't have any real friends in the squad. A few times the lunchroom quieted at her entrance as if she'd been the topic of conversation but never feeling the need to interact more than she had to or chat mindlessly with her comrades in arms. She did her job to the best of her ability; finished every task assigned to her with great care and attention to detail, and even her paperwork was immaculate. Amodar had often praised her as the finest officer he had; even to a certain blond haired hero. The praise hadn't stopped even when Lightning's annoyed embarrassment was more than apparent; she wished she could have clobbered her Lieutenant to shut him up.
"When you get back, just let me know." he told her, barely looking up from his paperwork.
"Well, this is my resignation, Sir." she reminded him. She didn't know what would happen once she boarded the Purge train, but she was sure that things would certainly change afterward; the least of which, her position within the Guardian Corps. He grunted at her, taking a sip of his usual candied coffee. She stared at the cup. Four sugars, two cream.
"Noted. Dismissed." he said. She was a bit taken aback at his nonchalant attitude considering how often he had proclaimed that she was invaluable to him. Saluting him for the last time she turned to leave his office. "Sergeant Farron." She turned back. He looked up at her and met her gaze with his signature smile. "You'll always have a place in my squad. Take care of yourself."
"Thank you, Sir." she nodded with a small smile and left the office.
Now she found herself standing in front of the very same compound she'd left only weeks before, when she had no idea whether she was to ever return. She figured once she used the keycard, the usage would be logged and they'd know she had accessed the building, so she had taken no measures to conceal her identity. If she was to ever come back to the regiment, she would have some explaining to do, but she didn't really care. She wasn't able to go back to her life with Serah now, considering all that happened, so she felt the need to escape Bodhum, and fast. Her plan was to borrow a vehicle from the Corps and do just that.
Reaching into the pocket that held her regiment access ID card, she pulled it out quickly and glanced around before sliding it through the reader. Holding her breath, she stared at the little red light of the reader as it accessed the information on the card. It beeped once as the light turned green and the lock clicked open. Good old Amodar. If it was one thing he was good at, it was seeing through people, and he obviously knew she'd be back before she even did. Turning the handle she slipped inside, placing a hand on the door behind her, closing it noiselessly. Lightning could navigate the building with her eyes closed; she'd traversed it almost everyday for the last two years. She didn't even need the dull after-hours illumination to get through the abandoned corridors. Every hall had been measured by her constant stride, every step accounted for, counting down the number to each turn; each doorway. The building was modest; old and rundown. Nothing ever happened in Bodhum, so it was left with the small regiment she had been part of until recently. Before the news of the Pulse fal'Cie had broke, the city had been overwhelmed with more Guardian Corps members as well as those from PSICOM, putting the residents on edge. The Sanctum had wanted to keep it under wraps, but Bodhum was a small place and once the information got out, it spread like wildfire.
Amodar had warned her to stay away out of the proverbial fire, and she had every intention of doing just that until she found out that Serah was being held prisoner by the fal'Cie. She could have strangled Snow with her bare hands when he came to her and told her about Serah; he'd had a look of desperation on his face when he confessed, but Lightning couldn't do more than turn away from him. Back then she'd not felt anything more for the burly man than sheer annoyance; but at that juncture she let him escape unscathed. There was something bigger happening than the pending pulverization of her sister's suitor. Perhaps it was the look of devastating loss on his face and his watery eyes that stayed her hand, but she felt something then. If she were the lost one, would he have come for her? She didn't think that she had ever meant that much to anyone.
Reaching the hangar, she swiped her card one last time through the reader and again she held her breath until the indicator changed from red to green. When she heard the lock click she pushed the door open carefully, closing it behind her as soundlessly as the last. It was completely dark, but there was a light switch to her left, her hand automatically moving to flip it on. As her eyes adjusted to the overhead lighting, she glanced around for something to make her escape with. A car was a bit too conspicuous; especially since they all had some sort of identifying logo on the door. There was a dozen or so hoverbikes, not dissimilar to the ones NORA used, but she was not overly fond of heights, or those deathtraps by extension. Weaving around the various vehicles, she spied a sleek black motorcycle clear across the lot. A smirk played on her features. Perfect. Quickly closing the distance between herself and it, she reached a hand out to run her fingers down the length of the was Amodar's Corps issued bike and in the morning he'd know that she took it. She was sure he'd laugh loudly; he'd definitely not expect her, of all people, to borrow it.
A flat black helmet rested on the back part of the seat. Catching her hair in her hands, she piled it on top of her head and slipped the featherweight helmet over it. Moving to straddle the leather seat, she checked the fuel gauge, wrapping her fingers around the key that was perpetually in the ignition.
Seconds later the engine purred to life and she gave the bike a bit of gas, maneuvering towards the final cardlock. Pushing the card through the open slot, the door creaked and moaned as it was drawn up, revealing the faintly lightening sky. Dawn was coming; and it would come again and again, as long as she drew breath. And as long as she drew breath she would think of him; and as long as she thought of him her heart could never hope to mend. She tucked the ID back in her pocket, and moved her hand to rest on the black fabric now wrapped about her bicep. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she couldn't get far enough away from where she didn't want to be. Pulling down the visor in the helmet she leaned over the bike and pinned it, tearing out of the hangar, cloak and dust flying behind her.
That first day she'd driven from dawn until dusk on the motorcycle before she had to stop for fuel. Her body ached from keeping the necessary posture, and since she had nowhere else to be, she decided that this was as good a place as any to stop for the night. The small settlement had one street; a gas station, grocers, motel and bar. Stopping outside the rental office of the motel, she ducked inside. She took off the stuffy helmet, holding it in the crook of her left elbow, pink hair cascading around her shoulders. The small office was tidy but sparsely decorated; a couple pictures on the wall and phone in the corner on a tiny table. Three wooden chairs sat around the perimeter of the room. Turning her attention to the desk, she saw no one, but heard the sound of a television somewhere unseen. Touching the pads of her index and middle finger to the nub of the hospitality bell that sat on the empty desk, it rang shrilly. A tall, red headed middle aged man came from around the corner and smiled at her.
"Welcome, lass. Will ye be needin' accommodations?"
"Please." she replied dully.
"Jus' fer ye?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yes, please."
"500 gil a night. Checkout at 10:30 in the a.m." Turning around, he reached a long red haired arm out to a vertical board stacked with room keys and slid one off a peg. Lightning retrieved the necessary payment from her leg pouch and slid it towards the innkeeper. He offered her the key, and she took it by the tag from his hand. "Room 12, out the door, to yer right."
She nodded once and turned away from him to head to the exit.
"Miss." She turned back to see him pushing a thick book and pen towards the end of the counter. "Ye forgot ta sign tha registry."
Returning to the desk she took the pen in her right hand and pressed the tip to the next empty space in the book. After automatically forming an L, she stopped. She could feel the innkeeper's eye on her as she hesitated. After the L she left a wide space and pressed the tip to the paper again. In her neat scrawl she wrote 'Villiers' next to it. Laying the pen gently in the middle of the book, she stared down at the name for a moment, eyes stinging, a lump growing in her throat.
"Thank ye, lass." said the voice. She didn't dare look up; turning away she left the office as quickly as she could and got back on her bike, heading for the promised solitude of room 12. It was near the end of the complex and as she came to a stop, she pushed the kickstand down with her foot and rested the motorcycle on it; dismounting. Pulling the key out of the ignition, still gripping the room key in her hand, she walked slowly to the door and slid the key in the lock.
The twilight was quickly dominating the sky; a starry blanket oppressing the faded colours of dusk. Once inside the room, she searched the wall to the right with her hand. Flipping the switch on, she glanced around the room, now illuminated. Very simple, mostly clean; bed table, chair, TV and dresser. A small room in the back, she guessed the bathroom. Closing the door, she sat her helmet down and tossed the keys on the table next to an aged magazine; Pet Pals. With a great exasperated sigh she flopped down on the squeaky bed and looked at the clock. It was just after 10:30. She'd been travelling all day, thinking about nothing, mind absolutely blank only paying attention to the open road as she cut through the wind on the powerful piece of metal between her legs.
Now that she was alone, things started to leak back into her mind. What had she been thinking when she signed his name in the guest registry. Not that it mattered, there was no one else around to share that name; her hand would be the last to compose it. He would have teased her if he caught her doing such things, but if he were there she wouldn't have had to sign his name. He could have done it himself. Maybe they could have escaped Bodhum together; she would have trusted him to drive; she'd sit behind him with her arms around his waist, holding on a little tighter than she needed to. Her mind had been so easily invaded by thoughts of him since she awoke from her unconscious state a few days ago to the cold realization that thoughts and memories of him were all she had left. She touched her arm and undid the knot in the bandana, bringing the treasured textile to her nose, inhaling deeply. His scent lingered still. She hoped it would never go away. She hoped to never forget a single detail about him or their time together, even though she cursed herself for reliving every moment over and over until her heart begged for quiet numbness. To have to eventually give into time's slow degradation of her cherished memories seemed more than she could bear, but how could she remember him as vividly as she wished when doing so blurred the lines between sane and insane? Time might heal all wounds, but time also served to dull pleasure as well as pain. She looked at the clock on the nightstand again. It was 11:00. Lightning hadn't asked her little sister about the details of Snow's vigil; she only knew there was going to be one tonight. It was probably already over. Serah would be crushed Lightning didn't return home, and she hadn't left a note either. She didn't know what to say or how to explain anything, so she chose not to. Hope and Sazh would have to take care of Serah for the night. If she thought her little sister would be crushed to find Lightning gone, then Hope would be in a state of utter desperation; it was like he didn't know how to breathe when she wasn't around. She'd done so many despicable things lately and hurt almost all the people she loved; and all she could do in the wake of her actions was to run away and abandon them instead of facing them and her demons.
She closed her eyes shutting out the light and laid perfectly still, willing her mind to follow suit.
After a few seconds of perfect peace, it started with regular faint taps on the wall at her head, then the taps grew more urgent. She sat up and listened, straining against the silence of the room. After a moment she heard what sounded like moaning... it was a feminine voice at first, then an unmistakably masculine voice joined; the two of them creating a chorus of pleasured gasps and grunts; tapping turning to banging. The squeaking of bed springs, not dissimilar to her own bed's objections, could also be heard from next door.
Lightning's face flushed a deep red when she realized what the two strangers must have been enjoying practically under her nose. She felt a familiar, but now unwelcome, tingle in her body and she stood hastily. "You've got to be kidding me!" Shoving the black cloth down the front of her jacket, she was too livid to replace it on her arm. Snatching her keys off the table and flinging the motel door open she stomped out of the room, heels clicking loudly on the pavement as she headed to the bar across the street. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her palms were sweaty as she pulled open the door to the establishment. Making a bee-line for the tall stools at the front of the bar, she planted herself on one and the bartender quickly noticed her. She wasn't the type that frequented a place like this. He approached the end of the bar she sat at, flipping the bar towel that was in his hand over his shoulder. Giving her a friendly smile he asked her what she'd have.
"Nothing." she said icily.
"Nothing, eh? Well, this is a licensed drinking establishment. Usually people come here for a reason; typically to imbibe various, often mass quantities of alcoholic beverages." he provided with another smile, this one a bit cheeky. "You look like you could use a drink. May I suggest an ice cold ale?"
She touched her cheek with the back of her fingers, she was still warm to the touch. He was right. The sounds coming from the neighbours had been salacious and she'd been teetering on a constant frustrated edge. "No." she said simply, refusing. His smile faded into a slight pout. Ah, what the hell. "I mean, yes. I'll take one." He smiled at her again, turning and opening the cooler, bringing out a richly amber tinted bottle. Popping the cap off with a metal opener, it hit the floor with a clink as he presented the open bottle to her on a square cardboard coaster. Gripping the bottle, she took a big swig, a drop escaping from the corner of her mouth as she gulped. The icy liquid slid seductively down her throat; the feel of it in her mouth was blissfully soothing; a feeling she could track all the way down to her belly. It extinguished all manner of fire that had been haunting her deep down. When she took the bottle away from her lips, she wiped the corner of her mouth with the side of her hand, a throaty mmmm escaping her lips. She looked back at the bartender; he'd been staring at her slack-jawed. Clearing his throat, he looked away, feigning busyness with the towel now in his hand wiping a clean glass. "That was good. Thank you." she admitted, not noticing the handsome bartender's stare; obviously a bit taken with her.
"Never had an ale before?" he asked glancing back to her nonchalantly, shifting his weight.
"I don't drink." Lightning told him, looking at the half empty bottle in her hand. Guess I do now. She raised the foamy brew to her lips once again and drained the bottle.
"Oh, well, that one is on the house then." he grinned, hanging the glass he'd been 'cleaning' from a rack overhead.
She sat her empty bottle on the bar and pushed it towards him. The coolness in her belly turned pleasantly warm and fuzzy; the rest of her body feeling loose. He leaned over the bar slightly, palms flat against it, to look in her face. She could feel her cheeks heating up again as he looked over her features. "Would you like another?" he smiled, his voice turning velvety.
She mimicked his positioning, her face dangerously close to his. They stood starting for a few tension filled moments, then she shook her head, trying to clear it, resituating herself on the bar stool. A haze drifted through her brain. What am I doing? She put a hand on her forehead, trying to ground herself; her other hand in a fist on the bar. Concern flickered over the bartender's face.
"Hey, are you ok...?" he asked, touching her clenched hand.
Hey, are you ok...? The question echoed in her head nostalgically; his voice in her ear. She felt the warm touch on her skin and she looked up hopefully. The bartender's unfamiliar face came into her field of vision and she yanked her hand hastily back from under his, clutching it as though his touch was physically painful. She stood up unsteadily and hurried out of the building, hearing the barman call after her, running full out by the time she reached the road to cross to get back to the motel.
Fumbling in her leg pouch for the room key she finally shoved it in the lock, flinging the door open and slamming it behind her. She leaned on the door in the cheap dimness of the rented room, sliding down it as tears welled in her eyes. Remembering the soft piece of cloth she hadn't replaced in her haste to escape from the motel room, she looked down, seeing it nestled in her casually unzipped top. Taking it into her hands, she buried her head in it. Muffled sobs broke the silence, and she sat on the floor for quite a while, still feeling lightheaded from the single drink she had so quickly consumed. The haze dulled her senses, and she soon stopped crying, as well as thinking. She was exhausted, and without turning off the lights, she moved from the doorway to the bed and fell fast asleep without another thought, still clutching the scrap.
Days turned into weeks as she travelled aimlessly from city to city. She'd been staying at a hotel in Galbad while she considered her options, but every night had been spent the same way; looking for her answers, and a way out, at the bottom of a bottle. The pain was far too great when she was lucid, and she could never sleep without a nightcap, so she avoided sobriety at all costs. She had started drinking regularly, preferring the easily distracted, addled brain to the agonizing drone of constant remorse. This night was not unlike any other in recent memory. She frequented slummy bars all over Cocoon these days befriending no one, sitting alone, self-medicating to stave off heartbreak accompanied by an icy, unfriendly aura.
Tonight's pub was crowded and very noisy. She preferred quieter venues, but she had not yet graduated to drinking alone in her room. She'd had to sit at the bar; no darkened tables were available to suit her brooding mood. A large television screen behind the bar broadcast the news – something she hadn't been current with in a few weeks. Watching it, she nodded at the bartender when he took her empty bottle away. "Gimme another." She fished out the necessary gil, setting it on the bar, taking the full bottle and raising it to her lips, still watching the screen.
"It's been several weeks now since the cataclysmic event orchestrated by the now fallen Sanctum government. This station, and our sister station in Nautilus have been attempting to contact the infamous Pulse l'Cie about the events passed, but no one has been available for comment." The blonde-haired woman sat alone at the news desk with a couple of sheets of paper in her hands.
Tch. I'll give you a comment. Lightning thought bitterly, tipping the bottle against her lips.
A group of barely legal drinking age guys sat behind her making noise and laughing obnoxiously, but quieted down at the mention of the l'Cie.
"The government has been keeping a tight lid on the events leading up to the cataclysm, but we have unearthed the identify of one former Pulse l'Cie. Snow Villiers, the identified l'Cie and resident of Bodhum was confirmed to have been a causality of the events three weeks ago tomorrow..." reported the newscaster, a picture of the 'infamous' l'Cie replacing that of the blonde woman. She gripped the sweaty bottle in her hand and sat it on the bar none too gently before she could be tempted to hurtle it at the screen. He was smiling in the picture; his infectious, lighthearted smile. The same stubble she ran her hands over and kissed poked out of his chin; thick and growing in every direction. How could anyone call a face like that 'infamous'. He was probably more of a man than any boy in this bar could hope to be.
"Goddamned l'Cie. If it wasn't for them Cocoon wouldn't be in this mess!" said one of the loudmouthed boys behind her. She found herself not altogether in disagreement at his statement. It wasn't the l'Cie's fault per se, but they'd been portrayed to be the "bad guys" to the general populace. His buddies agreed enthusiastically."Good riddance I say! Too bad they're all not dead!" he continued, pounding his fist on the table for emphasis.
His second comment, although, she wholeheartedly disagreed with. Lightning turned around to look at the group zeroing in on the commentator, face composed, but secretly seething. They didn't notice her, all of them stinking drunk and chattering amongst themselves.
She stood up from her stool, approaching him and his friends unawares. Reaching an open palm out to the back of his head with one quick motion, she grabbed a handful of hair, slamming his face down on the table. "What was that?" she ground out between clenched teeth, pressing her weight onto the head in her hand.
His voice was muffled against the table, so she yanked his head back up by the handful of hair to look in his disoriented eyes.
"Good.. riddance...?" He said as clearly as his drunk mouth could manage.
"Ah. Thanks for the clarification." Without a moments hesitation, she slammed his head into the table over and over again, his nose bloodied after the first few impacts to the smooth oak surface.
The other youngsters at the table only sat there watching her defacing their drinking buddy until one of them spoke. "You're her! T-t- the l'Cie they almost caught in Palompolum!" he stuttered. She stopped her violence, letting the guy slump forward in his chair, turning her feral gaze on the others across the table.
"Do you have a similar comment you'd like to voice?" she glanced at his unconscious friend, then back to the intimidated youth.
He shook his head emphatically, mouth hanging open.
"No? That's what I thought." she turned back to her drink, finishing it off. Tossing a few extra gil on the bar for clean up, she left as quietly as she had arrived and without a look back.
It's not your time. Go back. She needs you.
There had been nothing, and then he found himself conscious, standing encased in a white expanse, looking towards a voice that spoke to him. "What..? Who? Who needs me?" he asked the emptiness.
No reply. Was he dreaming?
He looked around him, spinning on his barefooted heel. "Wait! Tell me what's going on!" He pleaded. His body felt light as he started to run aimlessly, nothing but emptiness around him and as far, or near, as he could see.
Heavily accented, the disembodied voice spoke again. It was warm and friendly; very familiar.
Go back. This is no place for a hero.
He kept running, but there was just enduring nothingness. Breathless, he stopped his chase, clutching at his chest and falling to his knees, an unseen force closing around him. Then everything went black.