3

"Really," Lightning said.

"Yep. Really," Vanille chirped.

And she caught the girl by her necklaces before she could inch yet another inch away. Vanille gasped and squirmed, but her grip remained firm.

She knew what was coming next. It was just too much to ask to have morning tea peacefully, go around fighting behemoths, drink evening tea, think fond thoughts of (pre-handcuffs/Snow/puberty) Serah, then retire peacefully into her make-shift bed without going on to star in a drama reminiscent of bad pornographic movies? Of course it was too much to ask. She decided that she did not want to hear whatever Vanille was going to say next. "I do not—"

"And that's our leader right here, right?" said Sazh, cutting in without preamble.

She glared at staying silent for so long, he just had to speak up now,when the most ridiculous of all topics came up?

He shrugged, impervious to her glare. "Ain't it the truth?"

"Sazh," she said, killer grip tightening around Vanille's necklaces, "if you are in any way involved—"

"Light?"

"—with concocting this ridiculous plan, I suggest—"

"L— Light... I— I can't—"

"—that you come forward and..." Why was he looking at her like that? Was there— she rubbed the area near her chin. "...is there something on my face?"

"No but Vanille—"

"Vanille what? Speak clearly. We're not—"

A frantic tapping on her shoulder and something that sounded like a badly strangled pigeon. Impatient with all the interruption, Lightning snapped her head towards the sound and was about to say something along the lines of be quiet or else, when she saw a very red, very breathless Vanille and realised that her killer grip might be living up to its name very soon.

"Can't... can't. Breathe..."

Wincing, Lightning released her hold and Vanille landed on her elbows with a thud.

They waited mutely — Sazh rubbing her back and Lightning looking away — as she hacked and coughed, a hand supporting herself off the ground and the other frantically massaging her throat through the ridiculous amount of beaded necklaces she wore.

A Morning of Sighs. Lightning sighed.

As if Vanille hadn't had enough in a day: Being subjected to Fang's molestations and Lightning's stint at being a criminal. But then the slight sympathy evaporated as she recalled Vanille's 'cure' to her own rape drug. It probably hadn't been enough, indeed. But injuring civilian children, no matter how not innocent ranked very low in her approval system. It wasn't as if the looks Sazh were shooting at her helped any.

"...great. I'm the villain now, aren't I?" she said, joining in Vanille's back rubbing out of wayward guilt.

"That you are," Sazh said. And quickly amended the phrase when he saw Lightning's scowl. "Not saying that I had anything to do with the kid's plan, of course. But choking kids isn't nice, you know."

"I know." And that was that.

Save for Vanille's noisy breathing, a very pregnant silence reigned. It was all very awkward — she ended up rubbing bare skin half of the time due to Vanille's lack of clothes. And decided to very expertly ignore that fact — it wasn't as if her mind had rebelled and there was a brief second when she wondered if Fang would feel as soft and warm. She blamed the negativity on Vanille's highly inappropriate cure.

"Done?" Lightning said after Vanille looked healthy again. Then, feeling that a single word wouldn't show an appropriate level of concern, she rephrased. "Are you all right now?"

Still massaging her throat, Vanille nodded. "Y— yeah. Thanks for the back rub. Sazh, Light."

"No problem, kid. It's Lightning's killer grip, after all. Even Snow wouldn't survive it if she was serious," said Sazh, giving her one last pat on the shoulder before standing up and walking away to sit a safe distance away from Fang, Vanille joining him after another moment of recuperating.

Lightning glanced at him. "Sazh, we still need to have that talk—"

"He's got nothing to do with this!" Vanille cut in, and Lightning noticed that she had unconsciously positioned herself in front of Sazh, as if trying to defend him. How sweet: Defending each other like that. It was a gesture that would have brought a smile to Lightning's face, if she didn't feel like throwing both of them (along with Fang for good measure, and Snow for corrupting her Serah) off the edge of Gran Pulse and into another planet entirely.

Resisting the impulse, she said instead: "Really."

An empathic nod. "Yep. Really."

Lightning accepted that. It was improbable that Sazh would involve himself in one of Vanille's match-making plans, if his age were to be taken into account. "Okay," she said, and Sazh visibly relaxed. "So."

"So."

"Back to your moron. You were telling me that I am her... most beloved." The last two words didn't come easy.

"Uh-huh. And?"

"I'm not buying it."

"But there's not question about it. You're definitely Fang's most beloved person."

Eyes narrowing, she wondered how Vanille could change moods from being scared to downtrodden to scared to cheerful in such short notice. Or to have the gall in saying 'Lightning', 'kiss' and 'Fang' in one sentence. She was probably more resilient than an adamantoise, and Lightning wasn't sure if it was a desirable trait or something that needed immediate extermination.

"So, Light?" Vanille. "Are you going to..."

"I refuse."

"But—"

"How do you even know it's me?" Lightning said — tone fraying around the edge. "It could be you. Or Sazh—"

"Hey!"

"—or even Hope." Snow's name didn't even enter the realm of possibility. "In fact, why don't we just call him right now and take turns curing her?"

"Now there Lightning. Taking advantage of an unconscious person is criminal — even if it's someone like her," Sazh said.

Vanille nodded. "Yep. To sully her body like that just because you're too stubborn to admit your own feelings."

"Criminal? Sully?" She scoffed. "Rich, coming from two l'Cies — one of them the sole reason we're having this absurd discussion in the first place."

"Don't sweat the details. Listen to old man Sazh." Vanille pointed a finger at him. "He's the voice of reason."

"Now wait just a minute there Vanille," he said, holding out both of his hands; palms facing away from his body. "Let's not make make mincemeat out me, okay? Lightning?"

"What?"

"I think you should do it."

She looked at him like he had grown two more chocobo chicks. "Sazh..."

"Well, can't just leave Fang like that for another week, right?" He shrugged. "Who knows, we might end up Cie'th by then. Or worse: Begging passers-by to tear Cocoon down from its orbit."

"And people under the influence of the potion get really wild, too," Vanille needlessly chimed in, back to her usual upbeat self. "Besides, I don't think there's a tree strong enough to withstand Fang's blows..."

"What?" Lightning felt cornered, outnumbered and being taken advantage of. It was probably what those monsters felt when they had a pre-emptive strike. Not a good feeling. "But this doesn't make sense! If I didn't find out you spiked our tea, and we... we..." A pause and an image purge. "Wouldn't she be immediately cured, then?"

"Nope." Vanille shook her head. "It doesn't work if both of you are affected."

"So what you mean is. If we drank that, we'd spend the next week going around doing— doing that like rabid dogs?"

"...yes?"

Lightning watched as Vanille batted her eyelashes and felt the immediate need to introduce her forehead to her palm. One of these days, she was going to sit everyone on a nice, soft couch and have a long, not-so-nice chat about life. With her gunblade.

"...we should just leave both of you alone for a week. That should solve the problem."

Vanille's mouth hung open, a few seconds lapsing before she could stammer out a "what? But— but Light—"

And of course, Sazh the Surrogate Father just had to come to her defense. "Hold it right there, grumpy. You can't just do that, I mean she—"

"Just," said Lightning through gritted teeth. "Kidding."

Sazh blinked. Then regained his composure and chuckled weakly. "...oh. Of course I knew that! I knew..." He changed courses, patting Vanille on the shoulder. "Isn't she such a joker, Vanille? Great joke. Yeah. Great joke!"

"Uh— yep!" Vanille said with much the same false enthusiasm, "Light is... really, um, funny?"

"Interesting." And Lightning purposefully drawled the word. "I do?"

They blanched. But Sazh, ever the courageous one, ventured forth. "Sure you do!" He elbowed Vanille, who had been tugging frantically at his coat. "Right?"

"Um..."

"Oh, I see," Lightning said, testing the heft of her gunblade. "I would have thought otherwise, being grumpy and all. But since you insist, want to hear another joke? I have so much better ones in my repertoire." Click. The gunblade converted into a saber. Click. A gun.

She watched them as they watched the play of her weapon, practically hearing the ellipses of their silence.

"You know what," Sazh said, abruptly sitting up. "Bet Snow and Hope's done hunting those damn turtles. Better get back and help them prepare lunch. Deboning, filleting — just leave it to ol' Sazh."

Vanille looked up at him, eyes wide. "But. Sazh..."

"Don't you worry kid, I'll prepare Fang's portion just in case. I'll see you three at lunch, all right?" In contrary to his leisurely words, he was up and running in no time flat. Lightning could hear a muffled 'scream, Vanille!' from the distance.

Who knew being villain could feel so good. She was finally living up to the popular misconception of a Pulse l'Cie. Better still, there was no obligation in delivering another lecture. Well. That was that, and now back to the matter at hand.

"Hey."

Vanille looked away from the direction of Sazh's escape and gazed levelly at Lightning, folding her hands primly onto her lap. Probably resigned at whatever was coming next. "Yes, Light?"

"That," Lightning said, gesturing at Fang with a nod. "There is really no other way?"

"Don't you think I'd tell you if there is?"

"No."

"Oh Liiight..."

"A kiss doesn't make sense, Vanille." And Lightning was up and pacing — Vanille watching her placidly from her sitting position. "A kiss cannot cure anyone. It defies logic. It—" Her rant was cut short, mind refocusing on the movement in her peripheral vision. "Did she..."

"Yep." With the curt reply, Vanille moved forward to kneel besides Fang, a hand holding hers. She tilted her head closer towards the woman, then brushed stray hair away from Fang's temple. "Fang," she said, placing a hand on Fang's shoulder and shaking her lightly. "Fang?"

A moment passed. Then stirring, Fang angled sideways, head falling to rest on Vanille's shoulder. The younger girl immediately shifted to allow for a more comfortable position, sitting cross legged with an arm hugging Fang's shoulder. Even if they were the source of her constant misery, Lightning admitted that it was certainly an adorable scene. Reminded her of the times she spent with Serah, sitting like that on the beach. Then Serah just had to meet Snow and suddenly it was handcuffs and discreet (or so they thought, but she knew) romps on Lightning's couch. Yes. Hope's scarf. She added that to a mental checklist.

Still — even though Lightning wouldn't admit it out loud if it killed her — the sisterly affection unfolding in front of her was... relaxing, for a lack of better adjective. It would have morphed into sickeningly cute if Fang would just keep her mouth shut.

"...co...bo..."

Lightning looked at Vanille. "What did she say?"

Cocking her head to one side, Vanille paused before answering. "Chocobo, I think?"

A scoff and crossed arms. "Pointless sleep talk."

"Wait— I think there's more."

"...love..."

They waited.

"...light."

And stared at each other.

Vanille broke the silence with an enthusiastic clap — awkwardly done considering her position. "See? See? She loves you." It came out in a near squeal.

Give it to a match-making obsessed Pulsian to see incriminating signs in everything. Even tried divination on the floating tea leaves in Lightning's breakfast cup before. Pointless. "She said chocobos love light. Nothing else."

"Nope," said Vanille, "she said love Light. And that makes all the difference."

"Oh? And where does the chocobo come in?"

"Just ignore that," Vanille said, giving her a sunny smile. "That's irrelevant."

Very relevant to me, Lightning wanted to say. Decided not to; there was just no arguing with that much dose of annoying cheerfulness. Besides, Fang was close to gaining consciousness, if she were to judge from the mumblings and restless twitches. "We don't have much time, do we?"

"'fraid not."

With yet another sigh, Lightning walked closer before kneeling on one knee facing Vanille, looking at the unconscious Pulsian warily. "What if it doesn't work?"

"It will." And Vanille brushed another strand of hair gingerly away. "Trust me."

She almost snorted at the absurdity of the statement. "Trust you?" she said. "If I trusted you, this could be me."

"Mm. You're right." Then, "why so stubborn, Light?"

She stared at Vanille levelly. "I am not," she said, "stubborn."

"I think you are," said Vanille, returning her stare just as levelly. "It's just a kiss. It can't be that hard, right? Or are you saying..."

"What?"

"That you've never kissed before?"

What?

"Of course I have," Lightning snapped, having imagined Vanille's tone as condescending. It was true, too. Technically. It's not as if you have to remember doing it, right? Because she really had. A lot of times. It was just that each memory was accompanied by rotating ceilings, upturned furniture and a dizzying array of technicolour lights. And a feeling of being stabbed in the forehead the morning after. "I'm not inexperienced," she added. For good measure.

"Okay," Vanille said mildly. "Then you'd do it, right? It's just a kiss, after all. Surely nothing too difficult for a powerful person like you?"

And Lightning wondered if she had read Psychology 101, because she had just challenged her dignity and stroked her ego at the same time. As much as Lightning loathed to admit it, it was working. Besides, it was either that, or spending the next seven days repeatedly knocking Fang unconscious against a tree. She was sure it was an ordeal that could not be survived with both of them having all their limbs intact.

A sigh. How many times, already? She should start counting.

"I'll do it," she said, resolve steeling. "Prop her back against the tree. And look away."

Vanille did, and both of them positioned themselves on each of Fang's sides. Satisfied with the arrangement, Lightning took a long, deep breath. Get it over with quickly. One, she counted. Two.

...three.

Then darted in like her namesake, placing her lips at the utmost corner of Fang's mouth, held it there for the briefest amount of time and darted out again. All in all, it probably took less than a second: A fact she was a proud of.

"Done," she said, wiping her mouth against her gloves.

"But..." Vanille said. She alternated between looking at Fang and Lightning. "That was too fast. I haven't even finished turning away—"

"A kiss is a kiss."

A pout. "A kiss that brief is not a kiss: It's an accident."

"You didn't specify how long. Take it, or leave it."

Vanille opened her mouth to protest, but then shut it and sighed instead.

A role reversal for once, Lightning thought. That was a change. Glad someone else was just as miserable as her.

She then waited for Fang's change. And waited. She didn't know what she expected — a spotlight, a sound of chiming bells, Fang waking up and giving Lightning her usual lazy grin — but she had certainly hoped for anything besides nothing. Because precisely nothing happened.

"Vanille," she said softly. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Huh?" Vanille looked lost for a moment, but then in a gush: "no, no I swear it's the truth. Once we had to draw a relationship chart because the man was still doing it with trees even after kissing all the women in the village so then they remembered that he'd been spending a lot of time in the pen and we had to take out the farmer's sheep one by one and—" she abruptly jabbed her index finger skyward. "Oh look! A flying flan!"

A flying— Lightning had never seen a flying flan. How could a living mass of jelly fly? Ridiculous. But she scanned the sky anyway, searching for the elusive, tell-tale blob. Just in case. But there was nothing besides branches and the potentially blinding sun. "I don't see anything."

"I think you should do it again."

"Elaborate," Lightning said, still looking for a levitating jelly.

"The kiss."

This time Vanille had her full attention. "Don't play games with me, Vanille."

"I'm not," said Vanille as she re-arranged Fang's sari into a more modest state. "You have to admit that that there wasn't really a kiss, Light." Lightning couldn't anything to that. It was true. "I'm sure it would've worked if it was a proper one."

"...too much to ask for a single break, is it."

"I'm sorry," Vanille said, sounding positively not sorry.

A deep breath and a deliberate exhalation. It was the beginning of depression, if her seeping will to live and object was any indication. "Turn," she said, waiting until Vanille had safely repositioned herself to face the cliff before deliberately patting her pockets; opening and closing her pouches; watching the play of light on her gunblade; examining the frayed stitching on her gloves; smoothing her shirt; tucking the

"She's not going to go away even if you start doing laundry here, Light."

She glanced at Vanille. Saw her still squatting a distance away, back silhouetted against the high rise of the sun. Being lectured by a girl Serah's age. Forced to kiss a self-deserving idiot (even if it was ultimately for the good of the party). Lovely morning to just get everything over with. Another check at Vanille — clear. Whether Vanille was privy to the scene or not didn't matter — it was the irrational drive to preserve what little dignity she had left.

"Fang?" Another check and another clear.

She had to do this: It was useless dragging on. Either she was or she wasn't — and there was no accounting to what damage Fang could do with her inappropriate strength. There was Vanille's (questionable) dignity to account for, the group's well-being — and even if Fang's intelligence had recently changed categories to 'malfunctioning', Lightning admitted that she was... attractive, to put it mildly. She could see her long, black lashes; the delicate curve of her cheeks; the slope of her shoulders. Her collarbones, and down, down...

It was normal to find another person attractive, Lightning decided. Even Serah's attraction to Snow she understood, when the urge to punch him didn't overwhelm. An appreciation for aesthetics; nothing more.

"You still haven't—"

"Now."

And leaned in to place her lips against Fang's. There was a happy squeal from Vanille, but she ignored it — what mattered was, well, the act. She wasn't sure what to do. Three seconds and counting, how long should she— feel like a creep? Didn't she spend time going around arresting men of dubious quality for doing exactly this? Doing things to a drugged, unconscious woman like Fang. Eight seconds. If kissing was only this — an inaction of awkwardly holding two pairs of lips together — then she could confidently say that sober, it was overra

A jangle of metal and pair of hands on her cheeks.

"Wha—"

And just as suddenly, she found herself being pulled forward, a hand shooting forward to support her weight against the tree, awkwardly leaning on Fang as...

the kissing intensified?

Oh, and it involved tongue now, apparently — Fang greedily trying to pry her mouth open and Lightning resisting, clamping it shut against the invasion. The resistance lasted all of a second before Fang succeeded, and there was a tingle down her spine when the Pulsian began intertwining their tongues together, alternating between sucking and flicking, exploring Lightning as the movement intensified, pulling Lightning harder against her and Lightning felt

THIS IS NOT HAPPENING, her mind went.

Oh yes it is, her body happily answered.

Traitor.

As if cheered on by that, it responded by opening her mouth wider... and responding to Fang's administrations with equal ferocity. Like acrobatics, Lightning thought: Detached at the power struggle she wasn't winning. A perverted acrobatics with tongues as its starring players. An act that should rightfully not feel as good as this. At least there were no upturned furniture — that was a plus, right?

No.

And the sounds they were making. The sounds. Enough was enough. She tried to pull away, using both hands as leverage against the tree. Hefted and heaved, all while Fang was having fun with her mouth. It was futile, of course. Their faces still remained glued together. Damned absurd strength.

But Lightning wasn't going to deny it: It didn't feel bad, and there was certainly a jolt in her stomach on as soon as her lips touched Fang's. But that she attributed to dire flan Snow had made into a pudding the night before. It was probably poisonous and slow acting. It was also probably affecting her internal organs, judging by how fast her heart was beating.

It was just the pudding.

The pudding and the fact that Fang was still unconscious. Perhaps Lightning had acquired a strange new fetish — because under no rational logic should her stomach do a cartwheel like that. Incoherent, her mind was. Fetish? Lightning wondered what would happen if she was conscious would she— start making circular motions against the tip of Lightning's tongue like that. Or— Lightning hoped she would stay unconscious. Forever. Because a stifled moan had just escaped her (conniving, betraying, ungrateful) traitorous lips. It was a weak moan. Certainly not audible. She hoped Vanille didn't hear it. Was she still facing the other way? Vanille, Snow and Fang were all dead. And so was Hope if he had any hand in this train wreck. Starting to feel really— Fang, stay unconscious. Let me go. Don't let no let me go. Was it Lightning's name Fang had just said? Stop it with your, stay concussed, Fang, stay concussed.

She didn't, of course.

Broken contact, wide open green eyes and a smirk. "Enjoying it, sunshine?"

Lightning clocked her on the forehead with the butt of her gunblade. Reflex: Preserving One's Dignity.

"If she remembers this," she said against the background noise of Vanille's gasp, "I won't be adverse to adding a third concussion."

"And then they lived happily ever after," Vanille said with a clap, "with seven children and a white house in the middle of the plains."

"...no they don't."

"Really, you should be more optimistic, Hope."

Hope sighed and shook his head, feeding more dead branches into the fire. "I just don't believe Light would actually do it." A pause. "Willingly, anyway."

Vanille smiled. "I'm an effortless liar."

"Is that something you should be proud of?"

"Of course not," she said, "but since I can't change that fact about myself, I might as well use it for good, right?"

"Hmm." Another branch to the fire. With a satisfied nod, he took the skewers with raw meat and handed a few to Vanille, then held a pair against the fire. "So," he said, "how did you do it, exactly?"

"I told her that the cure was a kiss."

Hope looked at her. "That doesn't make sense."

"You're right," she said. "It doesn't."

"Then—"

"I lied."

"...oh."

"There's actually a cure." She pulled a blade of grass from the ground near her foot. "This."

"But— that's everywhere."

"Yep. But she doesn't know that." A hand twirling a strand of hair, she turned turned her skewers onto the uncooked side before continuing. "I thought I was so in trouble, you know, because she never looked away from Fang even once, so I had to distract her by saying that there's a flying flan, then gave the cure to Fang while she was looking away."

Hope's mouth hung open. "What," he said, eyes wide. "And she believed that?"

"It's Light," she said, as if that explained everything.

"I don't. I don't understand."

"We-ll. She might not think so, but she actually sees the good in everything. She has that in common with Fang, out of many things." And when Hope didn't reply, she said again in a more upbeat tone: "And that's how they had their first, looong kiss."

Silence. Then: "I don't know why you're still alive."

"Me neither Hope, me neither."

"...so, are you going to give up?"

"Never."

Hope sighed and continued cooking their dinner.

"Oh, and did you know that Light actually moaned?"

The skewers he held fell into the fire.

Continued.

Sorry for the long update. I don't... have internet. And being back in the land of shiny Pulsian accent, it's ridiculously easy to imagine Vanille's voicing, but I fear I'm losing Lightning's. And Hope, of course. Never paid attention to him in-game. Please do comment if they start going into OOC-realm. Thank you for everyone who've reviewed, and keep 'em coming. They keep me motivated :) (in searching for unsecured wi-fi points)