A/N: Thank you, everyone, for all your reviews! I appreciate each and every one of them. ^_^

"I don't know what happened. I just woke up and I was stuck in an oversized icebox." he said, watching Serah reach for the lemonade pitcher. He extended his hand automatically to fill her glass for her, and when their fingers touched beside the dewy decanter, she smiled awkwardly at him, withdrawing her reach. He omitted the part about the voice that was encouraging him to wake up and what it was encouraging him towards, considering it better to keep that to himself until he knew who the voice was actually referring to. She'd not said too much since he showed up on her doorstep a few hours ago. They sat in the kitchen at the table, the sun's early morning rays painting the floor, sharing a stiff conversation.

"That must have been scary." she said, glancing at him.

"Not really.. It was actually kinda... cool." he grinned teasingly at her. She didn't look like she was in the mood for his jokes. He rubbed the back of his neck. Tough crowd. "So, I was wondering how I managed to get back to Bodhum. I mean, I don't remember anything after getting my ass handed to me by the fal'Cie."

"NORA came looking for you. Well, us. I guess they had a hunch they might find us on the other end of that crystal column." Serah provided.

He vaguely remembered a picture accompanying the story he'd seen in the newspaper. The haphazard column joining Cocoon and Gran Pulse must have been what Serah was talking about; Vanille and Fang's handiwork. Besides the fact that Fang seemed to be plugged into his subconscious, he somehow knew not to expect to see them again. "Ah, I think I saw a picture of it in the paper after I woke up. I guess I should have known they already knew I'd be where the trouble is."

"Yeah. When they got there, Dajh and I were already awake, and the rest were coming out of stasis. You were already ... y'know." she paused, her voice thinning. "I didn't know what to do with... you. So the guys just took you to the hospital and I explained what happened. They told me that they'd put you in cold storage until I knew what I wanted to do, since I am kind of your next of kin. That and the hospital has been very busy lately." she sighed heavily. "I didn't know what to do, Snow. I was so scared. I've never had to do anything like that before. Lightning took care of everything with my parents. I guess she spoiled me."

His face turned serious as he reached across the table to take her hand in his. "I missed you. I'm glad you're ok." He said honestly; after all, he'd laid down his life so that she may be saved and keep on living. He didn't want anything bad to happen, for he truly cared for her. And even sitting with her, he was reminded of her gentle nature and why he had found himself falling for her in the first place.

She met his gaze for a moment, letting him stroke her hand with his fingertips. The look on his face was so tender as his heart swelled with compassion. Serah must have been fighting a battle inside; something similar to what he'd fought when his heart started to betray him. She'd not been herself since he was delivered into this changed world and he wished that he could make it easier on her, but he'd not do or say anything to sway Serah from the natural course she was on. For now it was best to treat Serah as if he hadn't seen her filling the gap inside her heart left by his absence with his young friend's affections. Initially his heart had been distressed when he'd been surprised by them, but the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that maybe this is what was supposed to happen.

"I'm glad you're ok too." she said softly, squeezing his hand, offering him a sweet smile. "Welcome home, Snow." The contact ended; both of them withdrawing, the mood returning to it's former frigidness.

He sipped his lemonade quietly and stared out at the rising skyline. "Hey, Serah..." he started. He wanted to ask where Lightning was when Serah made mention of doing things by herself, but he had hesitated. He didn't see any indication that she was around, but that didn't mean she wasn't. He hoped that he'd see her and they might talk. Hell, he'd even welcome a fist to the face as long as it was from her.

"Yeah?"

"Where's Light?" he asked as casually as possible. When she didn't speak, he looked over at her. Her head hung slightly, her usually good posture shifting into a formless slump. Her face held the same listlessness as it had when she walked back to the house after seeing Maqui out. He heard her sigh; the tightness in his chest a prelude to rising anxiety.

"I don't know. She disappeared the night before your vigil. She took your death really hard; blamed herself I think. Never once did anyone blame her for what happened to you, but you know how she is." she paused, running her finger in a persistent pattern on the tabletop. "I thought she'd come out of it, but she didn't, and the next thing I knew she was gone. I went to wake her up the next day, but her bed was empty and she left her house key on her desk. That was a little more than a month ago." Her tracing stopped; head bowed to the table. "She didn't leave a note, and I have no idea where she is now." He saw a tear drip silently from her lashes.

"Hey, hey." He stood and approached Serah, easily pivoting her chair to face him, wrapping his arms around her petite frame to bring her into a tender embrace. "No tears. I'm sure she's fine. She just needs some time, I guess. She'll call when she's ready to talk." I hope. He thought it was unusual for her not to call and check in, since she demanded that behaviour from her little sister. Serah said that she took his death pretty hard. Maybe she felt something for him then; something beyond the bittersweet emptiness that claimed them both a few short weeks ago.

Forget me. Her voice came back to him.

He shook his head. Never.

Pulling away, he looked down at his precious Serah. Her eyes were tear-free, but still slightly red-rimmed. "That's my girl." he smiled, brushing a thumb across the salty trail on her porcelain cheek. Her eyes searched his as his thumb lingered near the corner of her mouth. He could feel her delicate hands on his chest, and he watched as she closed her eyes. Her lips pursed cutely; cheeks tinted a most delicate pink. His lids drooped as he started to bring his face towards hers. Then he saw a flash of his young friend's countenance and his brows creased low over his eyes. He diverted, kissing her forehead quickly and chastely before reclaiming his seat, creating a very deliberate distance between them. "What about everyone else?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Uh..." she started, swallowing tightly, swiveling uncomfortably in her seat. "Sazh took Dajh back home. They stayed for a couple days after your vigil and left. I don't blame them for wanting to move on from all of this. Hope's dad wanted him back home for a bit, so he went back to Palompolum. As far as I know, he wants to move here to finish school. From what I gather he was really close with my sister."

"He was." He knew Hope had a crush of epic proportions on Lightning. He'd been jealous a time or two of Hope and how easily Lightning let him invade her space. Something must have been very wrong if she left him in the dark. "She didn't even tell him where she was going?"

"Nope. He was absolutely devastated, poor thing." She took a sip of lemonade and continued. "I don't mind him coming here if that's what he wants. He's a sweet kid. I can see why Light took a liking to him. Besides, the house will be lonely without Light around and I could use the company." Then, as if she said something she shouldn't have, her eyes widened; quickly adding "Uh, if that's ok with you."

Now Snow had been accused of being dense at times, but it sure sounded to him that Serah's plans for the future were at the very least unclear or at the very worst didn't include him. He didn't know that seeing Serah would flood him with all these uncertainties about what he felt, and seeing her with Maqui of all people made it worse. Things had always been so easy for him. His loyalty to those he loved was fierce and unwavering; and they loved him back or didn't. He was dedicated to whomever he loved to a fault, and although that was a trait that scared many potential girlfriends off, he hoped that Serah had been the one to see his dedication for what it really was and could embrace it. He wanted someone to love deeply and meaningfully for the rest of his life. He'd never been the one to stray, even for a second, and now he was on shaky ground. He looked away and out the window to hide the pang of awkward embarrassment on his face at being tossed aside so easily. Serah obviously didn't know what she wanted, but was he any better? Another conversation for another day, he decided.

"Yeah, of course it's ok."

Some days were better than others; some days she was drunker than others, but everyday she just wanted it to end. For the last six months, she was drowning in feelings of guilt and anger and self pity. Things had not gotten better like she had hoped they would. The jagged chasm in her heart was unable to seal and her existence unable to progress beyond the day to day. It had been months since the end of the world as they knew it; the end of her world. The only man she'd ever felt anything for had been cut down before her very eyes. Things had definitely changed. She'd left Bodhum and her sister behind, unable to deal with the tragedy and loss, but no matter where she went, she could not escape it. Eventually she'd sober from the constant haze she tried to maintain and everything would flood back. On a good day, usually when she could manage to be sober and not succumb to depression, she would take to the open road. This time she had ended up in Nautilus with some gil in her pocket and a craving for oblivion.

Nautilus, the city of dreams, was a shadow of it's former touristy glory. In fact, it was barely recognizable; it had taken heavy damage in the fall of Cocoon. During and after the cataclysmic changes that marred the face of their home, rioters had destroyed many of the familiar landmarks and attractions that Nautilus once boasted. Crumbled ruins of buildings and dangerous remnants of violent days past lined the streets now; only a few businesses still open and running. Many of the residents had decided to jump on the Gran Pulse bandwagon and take up residence there. It was because of this that once bustling towns now fought for survival. The grungy bar where she sat was one such business. She had been developing a tolerance for the quantities of booze she consumed almost daily now, and so she had decided to move on to something a little more potent.

Downing a shot glass of foul smelling amber liquid, she cleared her throat as the burning alcohol screamed it's way down to her belly. She solidly planted the glass on the bar and nodded at the bartender. "Another." She wondered how many times she'd uttered that word and to how many different bartenders all over Cocoon. He obliged, looking at her subversively as he poured. She'd lost count when it came to how many she'd already downed; getting to the point where her head was pleasantly light and her appendages warm; her body loose, joints sufficiently lubricated. Wrapping her fingers around the glass she stared at it for a second as if to see a vision; her path hidden in it's shallow reserve. Seeing no such premonition, she snorted slightly and put it to bed. Tipping her head back lazily to look at the ceiling, the bartender sat another drink down in front of her. It was a dark brown shot of... something. She looked at him quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

"From the guy over at the end of the bar." he said, nodding his bald head in the direction of the man.

She made no attempt to look at her admirer. Tch. "I don't want it." her tone was cold. She slid the shot glass toward him. Time to leave. It seemed that she attracted some attention wherever she went, but she didn't appreciate it. She didn't know if it was because of her unusual hair colour or her sparkling personality, but whenever it happened she took that as her cue to leave. She didn't want any trouble. "Pour me one for the road, will ya?" He sat down the refused drink and poured her another of her own brand, a slight grin on his face. She nodded to him and downed it, hissing against the familiar burn as it trickled down her throat.

Without another word he took the glass with the brown stuff in his hand and walked it back over to the end of the bar. When he disappeared from her peripheral vision, she reached in her pocket for her wallet, pulling out a suitable amount of bills to lay on the counter, under the empty.

She rose to leave, putting her hand on the stool where she sat, head woozy. She closed her eyes until the room evened out, then turned her attention to the door. She had a room at one of the only hotels left standing in town; stumbling distance from the bar. Making her way towards the door, she heard stools moving behind her as she made her exit.

The cool night air fanned across her face, and she breathed deeply. The streets were dim; most of the lighting had been damaged during the riots and the lights overhead that did work flickered ominously. She had been going from place to place for a few months. Sometimes just sitting in a hotel room for days on end; living on the last bits of pay that was in her account from before she'd been branded a l'Cie, usually drunk or putting in her best effort to get that way. Unfeeling was the new black nowadays. In her states of drunkenness she didn't have to focus on anything, or anyone, until she woke up in and the cycle started all over again. Tonight she had decided to go out instead of drinking by herself. It was her mother's birthday today. If her mother had been alive she would have spilled her guts by now to the sympathetic ear, and wondered what advice would have been dispensed. She remembered her mother, but only in a childish manner, not as an adult. Maybe her mother had been caught in a web similar to herself; a man she loved betrothed to another. Had her mother ever betrayed anyone like Lightning had betrayed her little sister? She thought about Serah, and wondered how she was. Hopefully this evening she fared better, and was far more sober than the elder sister. Today she would force herself to think about her. Maybe she should at least call her; surely she would be thinking of their mother as well. Inevitably, when she thought about Serah she'd think about him. His face surfaced in her mind, and she clenched her fists. How she missed him. All she could think was how she'd unwittingly sent him to meet his end. They should have been better prepared, she should have been closer to them; she should have protected them. But now he was gone, and she was defective. Frustrated by the broken record that had become her memory, it tormented her with biting recollections of pain and loss; parading his demise before her. Hot tears stung her eyes as she walked faster, trying in vain to leave it behind.

Without a sound or warning she felt a clammy hand clamp around her mouth, and one strong arm around her throat, knees unwittingly buckling beneath her. She struggled feebly against the assailant, trying to regain her footing but she was too drunk; her attempted motions jerky and poorly executed. Her head was clouded from the effects of the booze as well as her desperate grief and she was pulled back into a dimmed alley out of sight of the abandoned street. She mumbled incoherently against the hand as she was manhandled, finally slammed against the side of a brick building. The back of her head collided with the wall, pain lancing through her skull, her neck muscles loose and unhelpful. Her vision doubled as her head bobbed; fighting against a wave of lethargy. A man was pressed against her, his hands running up her thighs, hiking her skirt. His mouth left slobbery trails of sticky saliva down her neck as she writhed under him. Her eyes clenched together as he pushed the palm of his hand roughly against the flimsy cotton between her legs. Her eyes widened at the violation, alarm chipping at the alcoholic wall. Shit! With as much gusto as she could muster, she brought her knee up between his legs, but he pulled back dodging her clumsy attack. She threw herself forward in an attempt to escape, but the distance between them was too small and the opportunity too brief. He caught her with a large hand in the middle of her chest pinning her back to the wall, a strangled yelp escaping her lips.

"That wasn't very nice. It's also not very nice to refuse a drink that a gentleman buys you. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?" He shoved his hand under her skirt again, this time slipping his dirty fingers past the elastic barrier. Her arms felt weak as she fought for control of them, dangling loosely at her sides. She must have been drunker than she thought.

"You're no gentleman." said Lightning obstinately through clenched teeth, trying to ignore his abusive touch on her most intimate place.

"You got me there." he said. "But maybe I should teach you some manners, you little bitch." He hissed, his hot breath reeking of alcohol and stale cigarettes.

Manners, huh? I bet.

Gripping her jacket to pull her forward, almost off her feet, his knuckles met her face as he backhanded her, sending her reeling to the ground. Her knees and palms scraped against the cracked asphalt. Cheek stinging, her lips instantly swelled, tinny fluid filling her mouth as she sputtered; droplets of blood spraying on his boots. The attacker pushed her down flat on her back and ripped open her overcoat; fabric tearing and metal clasps snapping under the strain. The whole scene was eerily quiet as she struggled feebly against him again, but he had her hands pinned under his knees, straddling her. Her vision spotted as she blinked rapidly, trying to hang onto consciousness.

"Don't fight, no one is coming for you." he sneered, unzipping her sweater so his hands were free to feel her flesh as he molested her bra-clad breasts.

That's right... no one is coming for me. She remembered, the realization ripping through her; seeing him cradled again in her arms and as she sobbed he reached out a hand to her. She wanted so badly to take that hand and follow him to heaven or hell; neither mattered if she could be with him again. Her body grew limp; the frantic thrashing stopped. You're dead. She stared past the unfamiliar shadowed face to the darkened sky above preparing to detach herself from the looming promise of pain and shame; longing for sweet release from tortured days. The drunk man on top of her stopped as well when she halted her fight. She wasn't looking at him, her stare was dull, one of resignation. She'd let him do what he wanted and hopefully he'd be quick about it. Her bloodied lips parted, her voice a whisper.

"Just kill me when you're done with me."

His face transitioned from rage filled attacker to baffled blankness at her utterance, and he simply sat there, pinning her prone form to the concrete beneath.

She remembered him clearly now. His bright smile, the unruly blond hair, his scruffy chin, and indomitable attitude, so different from hers. She battered him; surely bruising him with both her words and her fists, but still he showed her unrelenting tenderness and understanding. Never had she regretted anything like she regretted the way she dismissed him; rolling her eyes and scoffing at anything and everything he said and did. But in reality she admired those traits that made him the man he was. In the next life she vowed to find him no matter where or who he was and never ever let a day go by without telling him what he meant to her. She loved the man that he was and she'd never let him forget it. Fearlessly and without thought to his own safety he had saved them, and her, over and over again. Then somehow, when they were so near to the end, she lost him.

"It should have been me." she whispered, looking at nothing.

"What the fuck?" the aggressor cursed, understanding beyond his reach. His gaze turned sadistic as he pulled back his fist to strike her.

In that instant she realized something. She realized she couldn't give up. He didn't. He did all he could do until the very end. He'd given his very life in practice of the beliefs he held dearest. Stay strong. She had said to him once. He housed great strength not only in body, but in mind; in spirit, and now she was the one that need to follow his example. Her mind cleared a little, adrenaline coursing through her body, undiluted by the constant presence of willingly ingested poison. She'd drug her knuckles against the unyielding conglomerate of rock, flesh tearing under the weight of the heavy knee, savagely yanking a hand free. Pain shot through her fingers and up her arm, catching the surprised man's fist in her own as it cut the air towards her face. He gritted his teeth against her renewed strength as she overpowered him, earning the advantage. Regaining her footing, she pulled him up by the scruff of the neck and thrust him against the wall where she'd been a short moment ago, but now she was the menace. Without ceremony, she dealt him a blow to the face and witnessed blood spurt satisfyingly from his nose.

Her body was quickly overwhelmed with the thoughts she had been avoiding or quelled with copious amounts of alcohol. It wasn't fair. They'd done everything the fal'Cie bid of them whether they wanted to or not and whether they knew it or not, so why did they have to take him?

Her fist met flesh again. Why?

Why couldn't she heal him when she needed to; why couldn't anyone? All she thought about in the empty place while she was encased in crystal slumber was him. If he was all she ever thought about for the rest of her life; the regrets, the sorrow and the longing would drive her mad. She never got to tell him all the things she couldn't say; they didn't have time – and she didn't have the courage. But, given another chance, she'd not make the same mistake. And poor Serah. Abandoning her like she did had haunted her everyday since she escaped like a thief in the night from her own home. But what was she to do? Would she and Serah sit in the kitchen crying together for the man they both loved and lost? No, she was still no good to Serah, but for the first time in a long while she felt the faint stirrings of hope within her.

Grunting, she hit the man over and over again until his features were painted scarlet and swollen beyond recognition. Every strike cooled her enmity as reason returned to her. She looked at her gory hands, then back at his face; eyes almost completely caked shut with coagulated blood, mouth hanging open uselessly. Letting go of his collar, he slid down the blood spattered wall, and she regarded him thoughtfully.

She knew she had to stop. Tonight was the last time she'd wallow; the last time she'd allow herself to agonize over the past. She had to stop dying and start living; if not for herself, for him; for Serah, for the other people that cared about her. Lightning wanted to honour her fallen hero, not squander the life he'd given her. From this day forward she'd begin the journey to reconstruct herself.

She zipped up her top and pulled her skirt back into place. Rubbing the back of her neck with a hand, pain pulsated through her body reminding her she was no longer a l'Cie; that life was over. She may have not had any magical powers anymore, but she was no defenseless damsel. Taking a step back and looking down at her impaired would-be rapist, she snorted condescendingly. "You hit like a girl."

She hadn't been completely sober when she got back to her hotel room to shower and clean up, but while she stood in the shower, with water running over her head watching the blood swirl down the drain in the floor, she grasped some semblance of clarity. This wasn't the life she wanted, but it was what she had let herself be reduced to, and it was pathetic. That much she knew. But she didn't feel ready to return to Bodhum and deal with Serah. Besides that, Serah was an adult now, and Lightning could only hope that she'd raised her with the right amount of everything she needed to be a good and capable person. She just felt bad that she didn't even tell anyone she was leaving and she had to admit, it was more than a little unfeeling of her. She could have thought up a good enough excuse to leave, but the blow to her fortitude had been crushing, and no longer could her cold, slightly vacant stare shield the constant malcontent underneath.

Her hand throbbed, her right middle finger was badly swollen and disfigured. She must have dislocated it when she pulled it out from under that jerk's knee, and it probably didn't help that it was also the hand with which she exacted her revenge. She had been through basic medical training in the Corps; part of which had been resetting dislocations. Her finger needed treatment if she were to ever have proper use of it again, so she took a deep breath to calm herself and without further delay pulled the joint back into place. Slamming her other fist into the tiled wall of the shower, her stomach churned with the waves of agony. She whimpered finally, once the stabbing in her digits subsided. With her good hand she turned off the shower, feeling like death. Every part of her body ached, but for the first time in a long while her heart didn't. She stepped out of the stall to towel herself off, finally twisting her hair in the sheet and over her shoulder.

As her eyes looked down the length of her bare arm, to her fingertips, she saw the black armband resting within reach. Since she found it tucked away almost half a year ago, it left her skin only when she bathed. It was almost painful to wear; a constant reminder of him, but as she looked at it resting on the counter top she realized it symbolized not pain, but his enduring legacy; his sacrifice. She still wondered how he got it in her pocket without her realizing, as she rarely ever took off her coat in those days. But now it was always the first thing she replaced on her body. Rubbing her hair dry in the towel, she tossed it aside and gave her teeth a once over with a toothbrush. The minty aftertaste added to her refreshment, and she actually felt clean for once.

Coming out of the tiny bathroom, she glanced at the telephone resting on the bedside table. She knew it was there. She'd considered using it but had not been able to summon the courage to actually talk to Serah yet. What would she say to her sister about where she'd been for these last months? She owed some sort of explanation, but anything she thought she might be able to say sounded inadequate in her own mind.

Dressing as quickly as she could in her faded wide leg blue jeans, and a worn black and white raglan tee, she slipped on her mules and left the room. Even though she had reset her wrecked finger she needed a few supplies from the all night chemist down the street.

With a bag of supplies slung over her arm she exited the store, keeping a paranoid eye over her shoulder. On the way back, she passed a payphone and stopped in her tracks. Completely unprepared, she pulled some change out of her pocket and into her palm. Picking out a few gil she pocketed the rest and hoisted the heavy receiver. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the coins into the pay phone's slot and dialed the number she knew better than the back of her hand. It rang once; twice; three times and Lightning was relieved. Maybe she was asleep already. Getting ready to replace the receiver, she heard a rushed voice from the other end. Movement stopped.

"Yes, hello?" came her sister's familiar voice.

She couldn't say anything; the words netted in her throat.

"Hello?" and after a long pause. "Claire? Is that you?"

Tears welled in her eyes and she sniffled slightly. Serah always called her Claire and she hated it, but right now it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard.

"Claire? Are you ok?"

So maybe she wasn't ready yet to talk to Serah yet. She shook her head mutely, she absolutely was not ok, but she was working on it.

"Please, Claire. Tell me where you are. Whatever it is, we can work it out. Come home, sis. We miss you..."

Silence on the line as she tried to push some words past her swollen lips, but they never came. Lightning finally hung up the receiver, drooping her head in failure. She thought she could at least try to talk to her little sister, and she would... one day.

Come home, sis.

She wanted to, but she couldn't. Not yet.