It was late. Snow rolled around in bed trying to get comfortable, sheets tying themselves around his body. The house was quiet and he was alone. Serah was asleep in her room, Hope in his. The kid had come back a few weeks ago. It seemed that he had no intention of going back to school once he'd arrived in Bodhum, away from the watchful eye of his father, but Serah had been quite insistent that he go back. After all, part of the deal for Hope to live with them was dictated by his father, Bartholomew, and that part was his continued attendance in school. Snow agreed with Serah on the issue, but he did tell Hope that he needed a little help with his all too diligent monster-hunting business. NORA turned out to be quite indispensable in the last few months, but their numbers had dwindled with the migrations to Pulse; the team of eighteen had been reduced to a mere ten members. Only the original founders, completely dedicated to their cause, remained to pick up the slack. Few people had wanted to get involved in the dangerous volunteer organization since the gil that came from ventures on Gran Pulse flowed easily and freely to those with a strong back and a willingness to get dirt under their nails. If Hope went back to school and kept his grades up, Snow said he would take him along on the weekends when NORA did the bulk of their hunting. Seeing that Serah wasn't going to give in, but would compromise and let him go with Snow on the weekends, he reluctantly agreed to the deal. There was a lot of work and Hope kept his end of the bargain, making Snow proud.

The black market for all things Pulse was huge; people paying thousands of gil for an animal especially. So people had started collecting "pets" from Gran Pulse but once the cute little "kitty" got too big for an unwitting owner to handle, they cut it loose. Of course, once loose it wreaked havoc on the local populace and native wildlife. Sometimes NORA got contracted out to larger cities to take care of their exotic pet problems, and soon they were no longer a volunteer organization, but a full blown business with full pay for its employees. And that pay was good.

While Snow had been "deceased", Gadot had found a new roommate so he was stuck for a place to stay. He didn't want to stay at the Farron residence, knowing what he knew about Serah's extracurricular activities, not to mention his own, but she had insisted he stay there with her. It was very apparent that she still didn't know what she wanted, even after all these months. They'd gotten close a few times, but something unbeknownst to Snow would happen and they'd find themselves growing farther apart. He wondered if Maqui was giving Serah a problem or if she was giving herself a problem, but they were never as close as they had been; that much was true. Serah seemed to object to Snow's, rather NORA's, dangerous lifestyle, and the pair would often argue about it. She had found a volunteer job working at the hospital in town, but she worked the later shift so she and Snow didn't cross paths too often; only a couple of awkward days a week. He wondered if she was ever going to cut him loose. Not that he had anything to move on to...

When Serah was gone on her overnight shifts and, as embarrassing as it would have been to have to explain to Hope, he found himself sneaking into Lightning's bedroom in the dead of night. While in her small private space, he fingered the various objects that sat in the room, feeling closer to her as he did so. He'd not been caught, but he could scarcely help himself. Sometimes he swore that he could smell her when he was there. Touching the bed she'd slept on – sometimes even laying on it and sitting in the rocking chair with her permanently stained uniform draped across the back seemed to comfort him. Serah had washed the uniform over and over, and yet the stain of his lifeblood remained, so whenever he snuck into her room and sat in that chair he'd lean his head against it and close his eyes.

He'd secretly given her his favourite bandana; the same one they'd used to cover each other's wounds, and tucked it away in her coat the last time they'd been together on Cocoon. She kept the silver flower he'd given her as well. It had been stashed in her breast pocket, and when he found it he remembered a feeling of elation that she'd kept such a memento. It wasn't dried out and brittle, the petals remained pliable as he placed it within careful folds. He wondered where his romantic side came from, feeling silly brushing his lips against the material before he returned it to the pocket for her to find later. There was so much that he wanted to say, but back then he choked underneath the uncertain nature of their relationship. Words never seemed their strong suit, but some things begged to be spoken aloud. These days, often when his brain wouldn't quiet down and sleep wouldn't come, he'd need something of hers to cling to. Tonight was such a night. He rose from his bed, clad in cotton sleep pants, and peeked his head out the door to make sure all was silent, and walked the familiar path to her room across the hall.

As his hand touched the door handle, the phone in the kitchen rang. Looking towards the sound, he froze in his tracks. Rushed footfalls from the other side of the house met his ears, and he slowly approached the kitchen, lingering in the shadows of the hallway, listening.

"Yes, hello?" answered Serah, halting the shrill ring.

"Hello?" she said again.

"Claire? Is that you? Claire? Are you ok?"

Lightning! His heartbeat quickened. But there was something wrong, the conversation sounded very one sided. Serah spoke again.

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

"Claire..." said Serah wistfully, hanging up the phone. She stood at the counter in front of the window, head in her hands as Snow walked in on her.

"Serah? Was that...?" Snow asked, suspecting he already knew the answer. Serah had given him an explanation of what happened after they'd come to following their confrontation with the fal'Cie, but she'd been unable to convey why her big sister had become so emotionally volatile. She'd been at a lack of reasoning as to why Lightning disappeared the night before Snow's vigil and where she could have possibly gone. He expected to find the sisters together once he'd been returned to consciousness, but the scene he'd been greeted with was totally unexpected... She turned to face him, her eyes glittering with fresh tears.

"Yeah, I think it was Light." she said weakly, looking at the floor.

"What did she say?"

Serah just shook her head.

Snow walked across the kitchen and took the little Farron in his embrace, partially to comfort and partially to hide the disappointment that crossed his features. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his chest, her words muffled. "Why didn't she say anything? Sis has always been distant, but this time it's different. What did I do to make her leave?" Those were the same questions he would have liked the answers to.

"You didn't make her leave, Serah. She must have had something to deal with. You know her, she can't let anyone see her with her walls down." he said, a little detached, comforting himself more than the pink haired girl in his arms. He stared at the pale blue walls of the kitchen, running his hands delicately through her hair, raising strands of it to his nose; the feeling identical to hers between his fingers. What was Lightning thinking when she called, obviously unable to say anything. Where was she and why wouldn't she come home? What was she wrestling with inside? He missed her, but more than that, he wanted to protect her and being out in the cold like this, he felt useless. His feelings were so simple and so basic. He wanted to be the constant in her inconstant world.

Serah pulled back from Snow. The look on her tear-stained face was dysphoric; her eyes empty but needy as she gripped Snow's shoulders and pulled his mouth to hers. He watched her eyes close as her lips pressed urgently against his, but he was stunned at the sudden caress, eyelids frozen in surprise. A myriad of emotions warred within him and as she caressed the smooth warm skin of his chest. Why was she doing this to him? He didn't want this anymore; he didn't want Serah anymore and he was almost certain she didn't want him. In spite of that, the familiar touch eased the tattered remnants inside him and his eyelids finally slid shut, conceding to the feel of her. She teased him with kisses, pulling away as he leaned into her, then pushing against him with intent; playing and unwittingly provoking him. He opened his lips against hers, responding with unintentional enthusiasm to her initiation. Replacing the taste of Serah's tongue with the memory of her savoury sister, he started to lose himself in the fabrication as she twined handfuls of his hair in her hands pulling him closer, her lush lips eager and all too familiar. Sliding his hands down low around her bottom to lift her against him, he hoisted her onto the counter, never leaving the thrilling moistness of her mouth. She shivered under his urgency as he drug his fingers up her thighs from knee to just past the lacy hemline of her night shirt. With a busy hand on each knee, he parted them and stepped in between, his self control ebbing as she sensually clenched his hips with her thighs. Her fingers inched their way down his sides, just under the low slung waistband, gently pinching handfuls of flesh, pulling him into her.

He growled low in his throat, gripping her waist a little roughly, grinding his hips against her. Craning his neck, he nestled his nose in between the neckline of her nightie and her collarbone, snaking his tongue out to taste the flesh there. Lightning... "I miss you..." he panted. Behind his eyes was Lightning's face and hers was the only scent that weighed upon the air. It brought about a familiar lightheadedness.

"Stop..." she said, barely audible.

The words dropped in his ears, but he did not want to comply. He felt her posture stiffen as his possessive palms moved to her thighs, again squeezing too tightly; heated hands greedily touching the untouched. Don't make me stop... "I want you..." his voice bubbled dangerously with lust, scalding the outside of her ear.

Serah gasped and pushed him away. "STOP!" she nearly shouted, crossing her hands over her chest, snapping her legs shut protectively.

Staggering backwards, his eyes grew wide as he realized what he was doing, and much to his chagrin, who he was doing it to. He stood mutely, blinking, trying to pull the veil of fantasy away from his eyes. He clenched his fists and hung his head, ashamed. "Serah, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." he lied. He knew exactly what came over him; he couldn't get her out of his head, or his heart. He'd gotten carried away with Serah and almost made another mistake. What he craved was not this delicate bird of his past, but the wayward Valkyrie of his future; the woman he would pursue to the ends of this world and the next.

"Guys? Is everything ok?"

Snow turned to see Hope standing in the doorway to the kitchen in his pajamas and sleep hat. Serah slid off the counter and turned towards the window, hiding her face.

When he received no reply from either, he addressed Snow with questioning eyes. "Snow?"

"Yeah, everything is ok." he paused. "Lightning just called."

Hope's face brightened, eyes widened in excitement. "She did? Is she ok? Where is she?"

"Nautilus, according to the number." Serah said simply. Snow could see her thoughtful reflection in the blackened window. Hope looked from Serah to Snow and back. He'd missed something; the slightly confused look on his face spoke volumes but silence filled the room again.

"I'm going to find Lightning and bring her home." Snow was looking down at the floor when he finally spoke.

"I'll come too!" said Hope excitedly.

"No." Snow and Serah said in unison as she turned around to face the boys. "You have school tomorrow. Snow can handle it."

"But-" The young man started, his happy expression failing.

"It's ok, Hope. I'll take care of it. Promise." he put his large hand on Hope's silver head and ruffled his hair. Hope sighed, outvoted. "I'll leave for Nautilus in the morning."

Snow hadn't slept a wink after the scene in the kitchen, and left early in the morning without waking Serah or Hope. With his preparations completed for the journey ahead, he noticed Serah had left an envelope with his name on the side table by the door. He flipped it over and saw Serah's cursive on the back. 'Bring her home.' Inside was a picture of Lightning. His eyes widened as he chuckled to himself, looking upon the captured image. It looked a few years old, but she was sitting at the same kitchen table, the same blue gingham curtains in the background. She wasn't really smiling, but her face wasn't set in it's usual unimpressed scowl. Her hair was styled similarly, flowing down the front of her shoulder, her skin as smooth and flawless as he remembered it to be. She was devastatingly beautiful; a rare flower like the one he had plucked for her back on Pulse. His arms were so lonely; every minute of every day for the past six months they'd not been able to forget how she moulded so naturally against him in their few stolen embraces. He passed his thumb over her beloved face and tucked the picture back into the envelope, sliding it into the breast pocket over his heart. Snow didn't know if he'd get another chance to track Lightning down, so he didn't want to waste any time; it was a long drive to Nautilus. If he made good time, he'd be there in the early afternoon. The others would have to take care of NORA's business for the day without him. He had thought about picking up Gadot on the way out of town, but if he found Lightning, he had some things to say to her that weren't appropriate for an audience.

As he headed towards Nautilus in the early darkness, he couldn't think about anything but the prospect of seeing her again. Maybe he scared her off and she didn't want to come back home to the 'happy' couple. But honestly, without Lightning, Snow was far from happy. He thought he could be content with Serah, but the fact that the emotions for her sister swirling within him felt like something bought but never worn had kept him from settling down with her in the manner in which he had intended. Knowing now that there was so much more to love than what he'd had with Serah made him feel cheated. That and she had her own agenda it seemed; one for which he was wholly unsuited. He'd not let on that he knew about her and Maqui, and he knew that she'd seen him since his return. Quite a few times in fact. He never grilled her about where she had been since her hours at the hospital were so erratic, it wasn't his place. Of course he'd been lonely, but he tried to put up a brave front. He'd been able to stay away from Serah as he usually ended up making ridiculous, and sometimes embarrassing, comparisons between the two sisters.

He found Serah was hot and cold towards him, and he chalked it up to her being conflicted about the Maqui situation, but last night he'd gotten a first hand account at just how conflicted she may be. She seemed more than willing to lose herself in him last night, and he'd been no stronger than she, but something happened all of a sudden to make her push him away. The hope that the phone call from Lightning gave him was immeasurable and he'd been cheered by her attempt to make contact. Somehow a simple conversation between him and Serah had turned into a very heated moment with him imaging what he always did; that he was with the older of the Farron sisters.

He winced when he remembered how she looked at him when she pushed him away. The memory of Lightning was so intense that when he even got close to Serah, she would take the place of the little sister and whatever he did, or was about to do was to her. In his mind she'd always been there with him. Maybe he was crazy, but sometimes she seemed as real to him as his own flesh. He'd dream of her often, she was always running from him; but he'd chase her. He always chased her. Only one time had he caught her, and the dream turned erotic quite quickly. Teasing kisses were accompanied by bold caresses, and boldness made way for deliberate temptation which escalated to frantic need. Soon they were entwined in each other, not sure where one started and the other ended. The dream had been an assault on his senses as well, as if to remind him of all the things that she was so he'd not forget. Not like he ever could forget. She was all he thought about, and after he woke aching and unfulfilled, the cycle would start anew.

He squirmed in his seat and surveyed the road and land that lay before him. He needed something else to think about. Since it was so early in the morning he'd not have to worry about the local detachment that enforced the speed laws in this area, so he set a brisk pace. Watching the road ahead was hypnotizing, and again he slipped into thoughts of her. Snow still didn't know exactly how she felt about him, but he decided he would confess his love for her either way. He would lay himself at her mercy on the impossible chance that she might reciprocate. Even if she hated him, he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't tell her. He'd died once without being able to tell her how he felt, and he didn't want to make that mistake again. She had to have been hurting, she left in a most uncharacteristic manner and spoke to none of her friends or family for the last six months; save for Serah last night. More than Serah, more than Hope, more than NORA... Lightning was his primary concern. He had to find her and bring her home or continue to be a slave to her memory.

She awoke late in the morning to her empty life, room spinning and guts churning. It was more than tempting to dive back into that bottle to relieve some of the more unpleasant effects of rediscovered sobriety, but she resisted. She suspected it was the first of many battles to come and instead of giving in, she picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. At the end of the line she was greeted by her old friend and former boss.

"Hello, Sir. It's Lightning -" she started.

"...Farron. Well, I'll be damned. I wondered when I might hear from you again!" said Amodar, chuckling. She could hear the smile on his face. His expressions were always contagious even over the line, and she found herself smiling slightly. "Well, what can I do for you, Farron?"

"Uh, well, I was wondering if you had an empty place on your roster for me..." she trailed off, feeling a bit awkward, wondering if he remembered what he said to her the last time she'd seen him.

"Well, shoot. I don't actually have a squad anymore." he said, sounding a bit regretful. "They gave me a position on Pulse; overseeing some Corps bases here. Made me a Colonel and gave me a nice air conditioned office."

"Oh! That's great, Sir. Congratulations." she meant it. Amodar was a good officer, but what made him truly stand out was the fair and equal treatment he offered to all his subordinates. He was easily the most liked superiour in the Corps. Even outside his official behaviour, he was reliable and approachable; an all 'round good guy. She was very happy for him, but honestly she wondered where that might leave her. Not wanting to go back to the grunt work she was doing before the Purge, she had hoped he would be willing to help her train for something a little higher up.

"So, you want to come back to work, Farron?"

"Actually, yes. I do, Sir."

"Hmm. I might have something for my favourite former officer." she could hear that grin on his face again. "Get your ass on the next transport from Palompolum to Gran Pulse and come to my office. You can't miss it, it's right next to the station; big building. Tomorrow morning by oh-nine-hundred."

"Yes Sir! I'll be there, Sir. Thank you, Sir." she said, an excited chord in her voice.

"Alright, Farron." he guffawed. "Oh. And one more thing..."

"Sir?" she queried, her breath catching in her throat.

"Bring my hog back with you?"

She blushed. "Yes, Sir. No problem."

She had a long way to drive, so she donned her leather trousers and jacket. All she had left to do was gather her meagre things, stop by the chemist for a bottle of headache medicine, and check out. Her body was sore from the dangerous, albeit enlightening, encounter last night but she pushed it to the back of her mind. Too many other things to think about, and that wasn't a pressing one at the moment. Examining her appearance in the mirror over the sink, her attention was drawn to her quivering hands. She had managed to fix her disjointed finger and her ring finger together for support with medical tape, though it would hamper her driving. Her mane of hair was wild from falling asleep with it wet. Turning on the tap and running a wet hand through some of the more stubborn areas, she watched the dark strands fall through her pale fingers. She'd bought a package of permanent black hair dye from the chemist and with hardly a second thought became committed, practically up to her elbows in the thick stuff. She had decided this would be her symbol of change; since she was at a new crossroads. The striking black tresses made her look bold and exotic; even to herself. While smoothing the hair to one side in her regular style, she stopped. Why stop at the colour? Messing up the style with a head shake and a flip, she regarded herself again and nodded, the strands strewn messily over both shoulders a few shorter pieces in her eyes. This was what she felt was needed; change. Boldness and a little courage – from wherever she could manage to dig it up.

Resting a hand on her arm she regarded the tied black band. His scent had faded a long time ago, but every time she took it off she would raise it to her nose anyway. Now the only thing she could smell were the winds of change. Unbuckling her leg pouch, she stuck her hand inside and fished out the small album she'd taken from her room back in Bodhum. On each page was a different picture of her and Serah, she was always smiling and Lightning always frowning. She hoped that, in spite of everything, Serah was still smiling. Maybe one day she'd learn to stop frowning so much and could start smiling too. Turning one more page, she slid the averia out from between them and into her palm. It had dried out a little more than last time she'd looked at it, probably months ago, but it was still as vibrantly coloured as when it had been freshly plucked. Maybe one day she could even smile when she thought about him. At least now she had hope, and with a little help from Amodar, maybe a future.

Closing the little book, she stuffed it back in her pouch and, begrudgingly satisfied with her appearance, slung her bag over her shoulder. Taking her helmet with her good hand and room key in the other, she left the room.

He'd heard that Nautilus had taken some damage, but he didn't realize just how much. From the most updated city information that he had, it indicated that there were very few businesses actually up and running within the vacation quarter. It also had one of the few remaining hotels in town, so he'd start there. The strip the hotel was on was almost completely deserted. Most of the populace had abandoned Nautilus in favour of the new settlements that were springing up everyday on Gran Pulse. He'd given moving to Pulse a thought a couple times in the last few months, but decided that keeping his promise to Lightning was much more important. Then NORA's contracts had really taken off and he'd put his ineffective love life on the back burner, preferring to live inside his head with the memory of the captivating soldier who had wriggled out of his grasp.

Pulling into the small lot beside the weathered hotel, he parked and got out of his equally weathered vehicle. The door protested as he hip checked it to get the latch closed. Hope had been teasing him about the rusted out vehicle he now used as his makeshift office, and he had been meaning to buy something new, he just hadn't gotten around to it yet. Random papers and invoices were strewn about the back seat, empty coffee cups and lidless bottles provided some splashes of colour to the chaotic decor. The trunk was a portable closet; some shirts, pants and most importantly, underwear were stashed there.

When he had Serah call to get his effects back from the hospital, they claimed that they didn't have anything under his name, and when Serah had started working there, she found the hospital hadn't been lying. It was like Snow never died. It was all very strange. Either way, he hadn't found a replacement for his favourite tattered trench coat, due to its sentimental value, so his friends chipped in to buy him a sleek grey leather bomber. He accepted the gift graciously even if it didn't entirely thrill him. Everyone teased him that one day he might have to wear a suit when NORA got too big for him to manage by himself. He laughed and waved his hand assuring everyone that it would be a boring life if he ever had to wear a suit. He added that if he ever was forced to, he'd even wear it in the field. That elicited quite a few chuckles from the group of friends.

"Snow hunting behemoths in a suit and tie like a Turk or something? I'd pay to see that!" Lebreau had giggled suggestively, comparing her boss to the popular TV show characters, much to Snow's embarrassment.

They'd all been out at the Seaside Shack drinking that night, celebrating Snow's return. After Snow was sufficiently lubricated, Serah and Maqui had disappeared, but he pretended not to notice. They'd rejoined the party later on with Serah collecting her drunken fiancee and taking him back to her place to put him to bed. He pretended to be passed out as Serah sat with his large head in her lap, stroking his hair. At one point he thought he heard her sobbing quietly, so he smacked his lips and rolled over to nuzzle his face into her belly, still feigning sleep. She giggled softly, the cute sound making him smile against the fabric of her shirt. He still felt so tenderly towards her, and he knew she didn't want to hurt him, because he didn't want to hurt her either, but they both knew neither one wanted to marry the other. They were better off as friends.

He smiled at the memory, and looked around the parking lot. It was almost completely empty except for a sleek black motorcycle across the way. He whistled admiringly. Maybe I should get me one of those babies. It looked like whoever owned it took very good care of it; the afternoon sun glared off the chrome, the paint was unblemished and polished. It actually looked sort of familiar, but he couldn't place it. He'd get a better look at it after he checked out the hotel. There was no time to be drooling over a piece of machinery no matter how spectacular it was.

Making his way to the front door, he took a deep breath before pulling it open. As he entered the run down lobby, he noticed the unmanned desk and approached it, resting his forearm on top.

"Hello?" he called.

A tall, shapely redhead came out from the back room and smiled amiably. "Good afternoon, Handsome. Do you need a room for the night?"

Handsome, eh? People in Nautilus are sure as friendly as ever. He remembered a wild road trip he took with Gadot here when they were teenagers. They had snuck out of the orphanage one night and didn't return for almost 3 days. It was not a good scene when they arrived back in Bodhum, delivered to the orphanage by police escort. He and Gadot were punished with extra chores for three months, but he'd never forget those three days. Good times. He returned her smile and shook his head. "I'm actually looking for someone..."

She raised an eyebrow at him; the smile on her lips twisting at bit. "Looking for someone? Are you looking for someone specific... or... will just anyone do?" She leaned over the desk slightly, pressing her ample bosom against the counter, creating some tantalizing cleavage.

Snow stammered slightly, taken aback by her offer of 'assistance'. He diverted his eyes from her little show. "Uh... I think you misunderstand. I'm actually looking for a woman."

Her eyebrow raised again and she reached out to trace her manicured down his turned away chin, pulling his eyes back to look at her. "A woman? Well, that's what I am, sweetie. I can be any woman you want me to be..." she purred.

He stepped back and swallowed stiffly. "I.. think we've got this all wrong. I'm actually looking for a woman that might have stayed here in the last few days. Her name is Lightning Farron. She might go by Claire as well."

The forward concierge answered immediately, a bored look crossing her features. "Doesn't ring a bell." She pulled an emery board out from under the desk and started filing her nails, ignoring his presence.

"It's very important that I find her. Do you keep records of your guests?" he asked, probing for the information. He couldn't let it slip through his fingers; not when he felt he was so close.

"Sure we do. Legally we have to. Not everyone uses their real names though, and even if I did want to let you see the registry, I couldn't." she looked at him from the corner of her eye, suggestively raising that eyebrow again. "It's confidential." she informed him, looking back at her nails.

"Hmm." he said out loud, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. "And how much is 'confidentiality' worth these days?" He saw her eye his wallet like a hungry cat would eye a bowl of milk as she put down her nail file and faced him again. He reached inside, pulled out a 500 gil note and placed it on the counter by her fingertips.

She looked at the note then back at him, that playful smile on her lips once again. "Your girl might have been through here, but I see so many people..." she sighed, feigning deep thought, looking at him again from the side of her eyes. "What does this Claire look like?"

"If you saw her, you'd know. She's tall and beautiful, blue eyes, pink hair." She shook her head slightly, lips pursed. He took out an identical bill and laid it on the other. "Will this help you remember?"

"Oh... I think it's coming back to me now." She took Snow's money with a triumphant grin and folded it, making it disappear into that plump cleavage of hers. Reaching under the counter, she pulled out a thick, heavy book. With a thump, she put the neatly bound volume on the counter and opened it, turning page after page. "Ah, here it is." She turned the book around so Snow could read the entry and tapped at a name written neatly on the line. "See? People don't use their real names around here. Good thing you told me what your beauty looks like or else I might have never remembered her."

He looked at the entry indicated and almost choked. L. Villiers. As far as he knew, Villiers was a pretty uncommon name around Cocoon. He'd been all over the place and never run into his name anywhere else. "You're sure this is it?" he asked somewhat unbelievably. Of course she's sure. But why was Lightning signing his name in a hotel registry?

"Leggy, blue eyes, pink hair... gorgeous. Yeah, that's her. Didn't say much, but she spent a lot of time at the bar a couple blocks down."

"Is she still here?" The intonation of his voice rose as his heart thumped in his chest.

"Nope, checked out an hour ago."

Ah hell. "Did she say where she was going?"

"Nope." she said simply, returning to her nail filing.

"Well, did you see which way she went?" he tried again.

"Nope."

With slumped shoulders he sighed, disheartened. Dead end. Very little could bring Snow down, but this was one instance where he felt lower than low; hope beyond his reach. "Thanks..." Assuming the conversation was over, he turned around and headed for the door.

He heard the redhead's voice from behind him as he walked away; feeling her stare. "I would have told you for a kiss." She said, her voice sultry.

He stopped to turn back to the busty woman, his features unreadable. "I would have paid five thousand." And with that he left the hotel.

Crossing the parking lot outside the door, he headed for the alehouse.

The afternoon sun was stifling, and he didn't realize until now how hot it really was and how it seemed to take forever to cover the couple blocks to the establishment noted by the rather forward innkeeper. The vibrant blond strands over his forehead were damp with sweat as he tried to sweep them out of his eyes. He no longer wore the bandana over his thick mass of hair; it reminded him of Lightning and how she liked to rob him of it. He had been excited when he'd arrived and he almost floated into the hotel, not even noticing anything beyond his own interest; his own desires for reunion. Now faced with the realization that he had figuratively passed Lightning in the parking lot and she was already gone, the hope he'd had all morning staved off the old ache in his heart, but now it returned with a vengeance. To say he was disappointed was an understatement.

The pub was easy to find, it was one of the only ones open, non-boarded up buildings along the street. Putting his hand on the metal door plate, he pushed it open with ease. The room was very dark, beams of dusty light peeking through the shade-drawn windows. He walked in slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Tall wooden stools lined the outside of the darkly stained bar, and he sat on one, waiting for the bartender to give notice. The bald male nodded to him.

"What can I get ya, bub?"

"Nothing, thanks. I'm just here to ask if you've seen this girl." Snow reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out the envelope with Lightning's picture inside. Displaying the picture to the man, he took it from the blond and nodded again.

"Yeah, she's been in here a couple times. Pretty. Likes whiskey. Not overly friendly though." He passed the picture back to Snow, turning it around and sliding it across the bar.

Whiskey? I had no idea she even drank. "When was the last time you saw her? Do you know where she went?" He put his fingertips on the white border around the picture.

"She left here last night with quite a few under her belt is all I can tell ya. And as I said, she wasn't very friendly. Kinda looked like she was missing something... or someone." he eyed Snow.

"She wasn't missin' anyone last night." came a voice from across the bar. Both men turned towards the owner of the intrusive voice chuckled, his expression smug. Snow knew right away he wanted to wipe that grin off his face... "That hellcat was with me last night."

"You?" asked Snow skeptically, raising an eyebrow. The man that spoke looked roughed up. His face was swollen, bandages stuck haphazardly here and there. It was hard to tell what he looked like under all that, but from the way he spoke, he wasn't exactly Lightning's type. But then again, what did he know about her type? Just because he wanted to be her type; just because she had kissed him a few times...

"Yeah. Me. Gotta problem with that?" the man stood up, favouring his right side a little.

Snow matched the man's actions, and started to approach him, rolling up the sleeves of his button down shirt. The man who spoke out of turn with the interesting claim was much shorter than he, but then again, most people were. The bald man watched them cautiously. He clenched his fists at his side grinning tightly. "Did she rearrange your face for you while you were with her?"

"She liked it rough. What can I say?" the guy started, watching Snow draw nearer. Snow's proximity only made him bolder. "She was a good fuck, she scratched the hell outta my back."

A cruel mental image flashed itself in Snow's mind; this wreaked looking drunkard sweating and grinning atop the woman he loved. He growled lowly, now close enough to reach out and grab the jerk by the scruff of the neck. "You probably should stop saying anything, before you get me really pissed." he threatened. "I can see a few places that aren't bruised yet."

"Heh. Did I touch a nerve, hero?" taunted the shorter man grinning that same pompous grin again. Snow definitely wanted to wipe it off his face. Actually, he wanted to rip the guy's battered head clean off. He had no proof that the man was actually telling the truth, but to say such things about her was unforgivable. As Snow tried to contain his rage, the scoundrel raised his visibly calloused fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply, licking his lips. "Mmm I can still smell her."

The giant of a man snapped, snarling as he forced the smaller man back a few paces. He pressed him easily up against the wall, forearm across his throat, feet off the ground. Someone obviously had a death wish; and from the looks of his worked over face, Snow wasn't the only one willing to carry out such a request. "She wouldn't have willingly had anything to do with scum like you." he said with a confidence he didn't possess. She had been passionate during the encounters they had together, one could even accuse her of being rough, but it was ludicrous to think that she willingly... Surely she wouldn't have had given herself to this piece of trash; but he was sure that she didn't drink either; nor did she run away from her problems. Now he wondered what was true and what wasn't. What had she been doing these last few months? Could she have fallen so far...? He squashed the line of thought, bringing his attention back to the man in question as he started to sputter and choke under Snow's forearm crushing his trachea.

He's not worth it. Said a familiarly accented voice in his head, calming his rage enough for him to start thinking straight again.

"If I ever see you again, I won't be so nice." Snow warned, releasing the man to the floor. "But this time it seems someone already taught you the lesson I wanted to teach you." He turned on his heel and nodded to the bartender, snatching the picture of Lightning from it's resting place on the bar and quickly made his exit. His heart thumped unevenly against his ribcage, rage controlled but still bubbling under the surface.

The blocks went by now without his notice, and rounding the corner to the small parking lot, he stopped, staring at rough red brick. He held Lightning's picture against the wall and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against it's cool shade. A new wave of anger flushed his cheeks as he drew his fist back to pummel the unfeeling bricks, crushing them until red anguish dripped from his knuckles. Raising his eyes again to the familiar picture, held above his head like an idol; his only tangible reminder of her beauty, he let tears slide down his face. He stood there in the shade, bawling, not caring if anyone witnessed it or not, until his breathing returned to normal and the tears subsided. He wanted to find her. He wanted to bring her home with him and make her his. He wanted this torture to end, but it would only end if he could make good on his promise.

As he pulled away from the hotel, returning empty handed to Bodhum, he noted the absence of the sleek, black motorcycle; but he couldn't have known at the time that he'd see it again, though not for many years...