2

Vanille hit the ground with a squeal, toppling from Fang's momentum as she barreled into her, immediately seizing Vanille by the shoulders and pinning her down with her weight.

"F— Fang!" Vanille squeaked as she desperately tried to push the woman off by gripping Fang on the shoulders with both hands and heaving — but it seemed to have no perceptible effect besides having both of her wrists pinned down onto the ground beside her head. "Fang. Fang Fang Fang— aah!"

Fang had begun prying her legs apart, nudging her knee further between them with each reluctant part. And just as fast — before Vanille's neurons had formed the connections for the (most likely useless) survival reflex of jerking her own knee up as hard as she could into Fang's groin — her right thigh was held in a deadlock as Fang squeezed it between her legs.

Besides one squirming leg, Vanille was effectively glued to the ground.

That was bad.

And Fang was panting heavily.

That was worse.

Somewhere, someone was shouting, but Vanille was too busy alternating between gasping and staring at Fang in abject horror to notice.

"Hiya Vanille. Delicious tea ya got there," Fang said, inappropriately polite. Inappropriately articulate when contrasted with her glazed eyes.

Vanille thought that it would somewhat be less scary if Fang wasn't so coherent. As it was, she was very close to having a heart attack, but she knew that simply fainting would probably not help her situation much.

As it also was, Fang's knee was pushing dangerously close to a certain area, and Vanille found herself desperately trying to wriggle away from the offending knee and it slid higher and higher and — "ahn!"

It was futile, of course.

"No, Fang," she said, still trying to pry her wrists away from the steel grip. "Fang. Please. I— Iwon't do that again letmegople—"

Everything stopped when she felt a jolt run down her spine. Fang was kissing her neck. Fang. Was. Kissing. Her. Neck.

Vanille went limp from shock. And pleasure, if her stifled moans were any indication. But she was not enjoying it. She was totally not

"Aaaaaah!"

enjoying that. She was not enjoying that. It was horrible, it was insane, Fang didn't smell nice, her lips were not soft, it didn't feel pleasurable, and she most definitely did not want it to continue.

Fang's tongue began making circular motions.

And she, of course, moaned. And moaned.

If her hands were free, Vanille would have scrambled for the nearest rock and beat herself to death with it. It was all the tea's fault. The tea and Fang. If only it didn't feel so good she would've— what was she thinking!

If only her body wasn't pinned down.

If only Fang wasn't kissing her neck (and trailing dangerously south).

If only her hands were free—

They were.

Yes. Yes! But before Vanille could so much as breathe a sigh of relief and yelp in joy, the familiar force was back, and she felt her wrists hit the ground again. Only this time they were joined together, on top of her head, highly uncomfortable, and held only by Fang's right arm.

And that meant Fang had a hand free. A dreadful hand that could do dreadful things. A hand that could do one thing. Or several, but Vanille didn't see any happy alternative in sight. This wasn't supposed to happen. Fang was supposed to do this to Lightning, not her. They were supposed to ravish each other and fall in love and

"Kyaah!"

Fang began stroking Vanille's inner thigh. Another stroke and another stifled moan.

By that point, Vanille wanted to hit herself with a tree, if only to shut her mouth up. This had gone too far. It wasn't like the time when Fang came back drunk from her coming of age celebration; that was rainbows and giggles. And alcohol. This was... not rainbows and giggles.

And tea.

And that made all the difference. The Pulsian blood in her simply refused to fall because of tea. Alcohol, maybe. But not tea. Especially the tea she made herself for the sole purpose of uniting two obliviously stubborn people.

Simply asking Fang to politely cease had been proven useless. Only one thing could catch Fang's attention. Unhappy as she felt, Vanille took a deep breath and said it:"Fang! Don't! I'm— I'm saving myself for Snow!"

The assault immediately stopped. "What—"

Vanille's eyes nearly boggled out when Fang flew backwards and crashed into a tree.

That... wasn't the reaction she expected. Huh.

A few seconds of confusion lapsed before someone hauled her into a sitting position.

"You okay, Vanille?"

"Sazh?"

He looked as if he had just sprinted a mile: clothes disheveled and twigs sticking out of his hair. "Yeah, well, I knew that shouting won't do any good, not when she drank your date rape drug like that; so I immediately went and called Lightning. Here, give me your hand."

She did — and once on her feet immediately scrambled and hid behind Sazh. "Thanks for saving me, Sazh," she said against his back. "...and Light."

Lightning nodded in mute acknowledgment, unsheathing her gunblade. "You're welcome." Then as an afterthought: "she's heavy."

With that, she converted her weapon into a gun and trained it on Fang, ignoring Vanille's horrified gasp.

Sazh, however, was more vocal.

"Whoa whoa grum— Lightning; hold it right there. What's that for? You're not gonna just shoot her, are you? Are you?" And despite Sazh's apparent concern for Fang, Lightning noticed that he kept a fixed distance of several meters from Fang and Lightning. Safety precaution. Approved.

"Just in case," she said. Fang wasn't moving. "Hey, Vanille?"

"Yes?"

She glanced at the girl whose only visible body parts were her shoulder and head, the rest of it hidden behind Sazh's much bigger frame. Meat-shield. Lightning approved of that, too. There were a lot of times when she had wanted to use Fang as one.

She gestured at Fang with her gun. "How long does that last?"

"Um... a week?"

And added Vanille to the list of viable meat-shields.

In fact, she wanted to flag down a King Behemoth right then and make meat-shields out of the two Pulsian morons. If she hadn't noticed the Hooker's green flecks, things could be very, very different. And in Fang's case, much more so for introducing that ridiculous colour to her vocabulary.

Her trigger finger twitched, and Vanille must have noticed because she yelped and disappeared from view save for a hand gripping Sazh's sleeve. Lightning sighed. "I'm not going to shoot— "

"Light..."

She spun around at the sound, gunblade cocked and ready to go at the slightest provocation. None came. Fang was still lying there still as before — body half slumped against the tree she hit. "Fang?" she said, eyeing the figure warily. While she was no slouch in the combat department — not by a long shot — she couldn't quite see herself going hand-to-hand against Fang and winning. Or living to tell the tale, for that matter, because she had no doubt that in Fang's current condition, the only thing that mattered was the availability of a straight line towards Vanille. Lightning interrupting that line? Well, that's just bad luck, isn't it. And she would really, really loathe to raise her weapon against Fang, righteous as it would be. Until the situation could be resolved, Fang would have to remain unconscious. Or tied. "Fang?" she said again. No response. She relaxed her stance. "Clear."

A collective sigh from Sazh and Vanille.

"Light?" Vanille ventured, still behind Sazh. "What should we do with her?"

What indeed. Lightning refrained from yet another bout of exhalation. "Precaution. Sazh, is there anything we can use to tie that idiot up?"

"Tie?" He began patting the pockets of his coat. Came up with nothing. "Nothing that she won't break out of easy— wait, I think I saw a pair of cuffs in Snow's bag. Hold on, I'll go get it— " Abruptly, as if realising something, he turned to Vanille. "You okay being alone with them for a second?"

She smiled weakly at him. "Don't worry. I'll... scream for you if something happens."

"Well..." Still looking doubtful, Sazh patted her head regardless. "You do that," he said, and — after a nod from her — broke into a jog towards the direction of their camp."Scream!" he said one last time with an arm raised before disappearing out of view.

Lightning's eyebrow twitched.

To think that he didn't trust her with protecting the culprit from her own concussed idiot of a victim who had intentionally drank an aphrodisiac — ridiculous. And handcuffs? Handcuffs? Crystallised or not, Serah was grounded for life. And Snow? Snow was dead. Vanille, though...

Making sure she noticed, Lightning gave her a slow, thorough scan. "Vanille?" she said very evenly, "after this is over, we'll sit down and have a long, nice chat about everything that's happened so far."

Despite the mildness of her tone, Vanille visibly blanched. She chuckled nervously and stepped backwards until she stumbled upon a tree. "It... won't help if I apologise to you now? ...will it?"

"Let me see." Lightning tapped her gunblade onto one palm, appearing as if to ponder. Then: "I don't think so." She watched as Vanille sidled closer to the tree. It seemed that the tree had replaced his role as Vanille's designated shield. An idea formed, and Lightning found herself smirking. "I can snap that tree with one blow," she said. "In fact, that's not even necessary." The tap tap of her gunblade sounded ominous in the silence. "I can just shoot you right now."

If Vanille had looked simply shaken before, now she looked positively horrified. "Light, I— I— "

"And don't even think of screaming for Sazh ...unless you want to live with the guilt for your very, very short life." Tap, her gunblade went. Tap. Tap. A slow, deliberate step with each beat. Tap.

And, once directly in front of Vanille, she abruptly thrust out her arm, letting the length of her forearm rest on the section of tree directly on top of Vanille's head. If there were one perfect adjective to describe her position in relative to Vanille's, it would be 'loom'. Indeed, Lightning loomed over Vanille, using the difference of their height to force the shorter girl to look up at her. Her eyes were large in fear, and Lightning could see the movement in her neck as she gulped.

Very satisfying, indeed.

"Light..." said her victim in a tiny, quivering voice. "I'm— I'm sorry so p-please..."

"Please? Too late for that, Vanille. Too late. Think of it as... divine retribution. It will be painless, I promise." With that, Lightning raised the hand that held her gunblade.

"No— !"

...and brought her free hand down from its resting place, ruffling Vanille's hair. "Kidding."

Vanille gasped in surprise. "What? But I— I thought— "

"Yes. You thought," said Lightning, not quite able to suppress a smile at the reaction she had managed to incite.

She couldn't help it — Vanille just reminded her so much of Serah. The perpetual cheer, the sunny smile, the good intentions that usually went wrong. Yes. Serah. Pre-handcuffs Serah.

Her smile faded away.

Snow. What she would do to him for corrupting her sister like that. Handcuffs? There was a brief image of her choking Snow with Hope's scarf. It looked more and more like a better idea — because handcuffs? That oversized, blonde piece of cra

"Lightning?"

"...huh? Oh."

Vanille was still looking at her nervously: hands joined behind her back, feet restlessly shifting. "Why... did you?"

"Did I what?"

"...do that if you didn't really mean it?" Vanille said with the same tiny voice. She looked like she wasn't quite sure as what expression to rearrange her facial muscles into.

Lightning would suggest happiness at not nearly dying. But that's just her.

And Vanille really should stop staring at her with those huge, quivering puppy eyes; Lightning was sure she wasn't doing it intentionally (or rather, it was the default survival expression for the cute and small), but it really made delivering the lecture she planned on difficult. Still, she was going to try her best. There was a certain obligation in delivering a good moral fiber every time you played villain and nearly scared someone to death.

A quick glance at Fang. Still safe.

She exhaled, preparing herself for the lecture. Then started. "It's a lesson for not doing things without being prepared for the repercussion. And I don't arbitrarily kill people just because they happen to have failed with drugging my morning beverage."

Silence reigned.

"That's it," she said, rubbing her palms together to get rid of stray dust.

Her reply was met with a frown: Vanille's previously huge, quivering puppy eyes narrowing from confusion. "That's... that's it?"

"Yes. That's it." Lightning was a big fan of brevity. "Or is that not enough?"

"No!" Vanille shook her head. "It's more than enough. I'm— I'm sorry; I didn't mean to..."

"Apology accepted. It's not me who was molested, after all — I think you've had enough for one day. As long as you don't repeat it, am I clear? And no more stealing clothes while we're bathing..."And her sentence was cut short when she received an unexpected hug from Vanille.

"Oh, Light," she said, voice muffled. "Thank you for forgiving me."

Lightning sighed and wordlessly returned the embrace, patting her head awkwardly. Yes. Similar to Serah, indeed. And Hope. And that gorgonopsid cub they found the other day. Clearly she had a weakness against humongous puppy eyes.

"Hey! Got the cuffs! She still— oh."

"Now that Sazh is back, let's deal with your idiot." With a another pat to Vanille's head, Lightning broke the embrace and led Vanille back to the clearing with one hand on her shoulder.

"You were— " Sazh began, but stopped as soon as he saw Lightning's raised eyebrow: a gesture of warning. He coughed. "So. We're gonna cuff her hands, right." he said, changing topics expertly as he knelt beside Fang. He twirled the handcuffs around his index finger absently. "No trees small enough to cuff her against."

Lightning scanned the area, and was forced to agree. "If only her hands were bound, do you think you can take her in the event that she regain consciousness?"

"Oh, just an semi-immobile woman like Fang? Sure!" He threw his hands up in mock enthusiasm. "What's a few broken bones and a dislocated jaw, right? Of course I can take her easy. Hell, bring on a megistotherian and a king behemoth and let 'em tag team!"

"I see. I'm glad you have the confidence."

"... really getting too old for this."

"Vanille, hold her hands together. Sazh, do it."

They did, and two clicks later, the imminent danger of Fang waking up and doing bad things to Vanille (a less optimistic view: or anyone in sight) was thwarted.

They stared at Fang in silence.

Sazh broke it with a cough, addressing Lightning. "So... you said she knew already about the drug beforehand, right?"

"That is correct."

"Why did she drink it anyway?"

Now that, Lightning wanted to know. And the answer usually remained with the perpetrator. "Vanille?"

They turned their attention to Vanille.

The girl fidgeted.

The stares continued.

"Um... did she..." she said finally, hands twirling in her lap. "Did she say anything before she drank it?"

Did she? Lightning didn't think of it as relevant, but said anyway: "she said the flecks were the colour of Hooker's green."

Vanille blinked. "Hooker's— "

A strangled sound from Sazh.

"— green? I don't..." she trailed off. But then her eyes brightened as realisation hit her. "Oh. Oh. I think she was mistaken."

Lightning frowned. "Mistaken?"

"Hooker's..."

"Not now, Sazh," she cautioned. Then with a raised eyebrow at Vanille: "explain."

There was a tuneless hum as Vanille arranged her answer, a finger twirling a pigtail. "We-ll," she said after a while, "she mistook it for a different concoction, I think." When no comment came, she continued. "The other one is indeed made of herbs the colour of Hooker's green, but what I put in that tea was verdant... monkey forest green! Yep; that's it. They're quite similar, if you don't know much about colours, or aren't careful."

Lightning's frown deepened. Children in Oerba were either very artistic, or millions of public tax had been wasted in introducing useless classes about colours and other arcane knowledge. She did not approve of tax squandering, like the situation in Bodhum where the bureaucracy administered improbably high taxes and spent it on building new sports stadiums, attracting tourists and legalising under-aged girls.

Or Vanille was just making things up. "And what's the difference?"

"Heaps!" Vanille said (and Lightning narrowed her eyes at the sudden upbeat mood), clapping her hands together. "The potion Fang mistook it for — by the way, it's called," and she rapidly mumbled something intelligible.

"What?"

She repeated.

"Sxbtxlw—" Lightning said a third of it then gave up. It sounded made up, but she'd give Vanille the benefit of the doubt for now— who knew with five hundred year old Pulsians. "And then?"

"That only works on males, but much, much more potent. Those can last weeks before wearing off. This one," Vanille gestured at Fang with a sweep of her hand, "is milder, but works on both genders. It's also much more rare and difficult to make, so perhaps Fang thought..."

Oerbans must have led really repressed lives if they resorted to drugs as means of seduction. Then she connected the dots. "What you're saying is, she drank it because she thought it was that... other drug that only works for males."

"Uh-huh."

"When in fact, it was the other one?"

"Yep."

"So if I'm guessing this correctly — based on Vanille's explanation and Fang's personality, the conclusion would be: her plan to backfire your plan backfired," said Lightning, nonchalantly jumping straight from point A to point Z. When Vanille and Sazh didn't look like they had been hit by the brick of epiphany, she took a long, deep breath and let it out. She'd been doing that a lot, this morning. A Morning of Sighs. "She drank it as a joke," she said with as patient and even tone as she could manage, "then ran off finding you to pull a prank. Instead by the time she reached you the real drug had begun taking effect, leading to my conclusion. Is that correct?"

"I... think so?"

"...morons. All of you."

Vanille eyes widened.

Seeing her expression, Lightning again sighed and massaged her temple. "In this case, I think the word is justified. So what's the cure?"

"Well..."

Vanille was inching away, but Lightning just didn't have enough energy to care nor wonder why. What she really wanted to do now was to get this over with, borrow Hope's scarf, find Snow, and then get Vanille to make her a new cup of tea (under supervision). "...what is it?"

"...a kiss from her most beloved?"

That doesn't make sense but whatever, her mind went. "Go on, then."

"Uh— Light? Most beloved."

She nodded. "Yes. That would be you."

"I mean." And Vanille inched away further. "Her most beloved in a sense of... romantic interest."

"And that's you."

"No, no, no," Vanille said, sounding exasperated. "She thinks of me as her sister; our relationship isn't like that. Not at all."

And what sister makes sexual moans that can be heard a mile away, Lightning thought.

"What she needs is a kiss from the person she's most romantically in love with."

"A kiss," Lightning said.

Vanille nodded, and the gap between them widened further. "A kiss."

Really. Why wasn't she surprised at all.

Continued.

I'm really sorry for the abrupt ending; the scene was going close to 5k words, and to get proper closure for a chapter it would be closer to 6k, which I think will be too long and unbalanced in lieu of other chapters, so I was forced to choose a moment (and really, there wasn't any) to end the chapter prematurely if I don't want to start rushing things because of petty things like word count.

But I had much, much fun writing villain!Light. She's such a sweetie underneath, makes me go awwww. And yep. She's got issues about her sister. Also, hope to make up for the lack of funnies next chapter.