So hi guys, and thanks for tuning into the next chapter of NR! (:

Once again, I start off with my love for my supporters: That One Reviewee, Guardian of Valhalla, Pilaris (and you'll see why he gunned out for them shortly!), GCFarron, Zapper90, Lightarcana, OscarMerrinoz96, thewhitespirit, and H-thar (And omigosh, thank you SO much for your encouraging words/compliments! I just have quite a bit of free time on my hands, but admittedly, I spend like all day on a chapter... which may or may not be healthy for me)! Thank you ALL for your kind words and compliments on how I handled the emotional scenes - I've spent a lot of time recently practicing angst/emotional themes for various classes and such, and I'm glad you guys think I got it for everyone! (:

Of course, hearts go to LadyAlaska, again without whom this chapter would never have been possible.

Anyways, enough of my bumbling, enjoy as always!

Chapter 46: Fleeting and Endless Sorrow

The white rose in her hand prickled her skin, but she refused to toss it into the grave. What was the point? There was no one left in the ground to greet it, and there was no soul waiting there to receive the grace of the flower. The skin of her palm dug into the thorns - it drew blood, but even then, she refused to let go of it. The words of the sermon washed over her, but the words meant nothing. What was the point of saying nice things about a dead person when they weren't even alive to hear it anymore?

There was no one to deliver an eulogy, and she didn't want to. There were absolutely no words for how she felt except the icy emptiness. Someone tugged on the sleeve of her long overcoat.

"Claire?" She snapped instantly at the name.

"How many times... have I told you not to call me that?" She turned to stare at the forget-me-not blue eyes of her sister, clinging haphazardly to the sleeve of her grey woolen coat, her pink hair tied in a small ponytail that dangled down the left side of her head. Her sister was wearing a white dress, the colour of snow and of mourning, and the similar stems of white roses was in her hands. Serah looked down at her feet, clad in white flats.

"But..." There was a pause, but Lightning didn't relent. "I'm sorry..."

She huffed, turning away from her sister to fix her eyes on the dull brown-green winter grass and the small white flurries drifting down from the grey skies, their coldness prickling her skin every time one of the cold flakes landed on her. She didn't take her eyes off the horizon, not even bothering to pull the hood of the coat over her pink hair. She felt her sister's small hand slip into hers, and just that one time, she let it go. Her twelve year old sister didn't need to be hurt any more than she already had.

Serah had never met their father - he had been an engineer at the Euride Gorge and he'd died in an accident not long after Serah had been born, but she remembered how despondent their mother had been for months afterwards. Even then... she'd only been five years old, but she'd seen what crippling depression could do to a person. Even then, she had vowed to never let her emotions get the better of her. But in a way... Serah was lucky she didn't remember their father. Lightning did. The pain of knowing he would never come back, would never feel his hand ruffle her pastel coloured hair again was only one of the things she'd understood back then about dying.

She vowed that she would never let herself feel that pain again... and here she was, standing next to her mother's grave with a white rose in her hands. Except this time... Serah was suffering right along with her. The moment she'd stood in the rain, watching and feeling the raindrops soak into her skin, plastering her clothes to her slender form, she'd promised herself that she would never let herself feel that much pain again. She'd promised that Serah would never... either.

The last words of the priest finished, and for a moment, all she did was stare at the empty, yawning hole in the ground before she realized that everyone was waiting for her. Right... she was the head of the family now. Glancing around, she gave one nod of assent before the shovel threw dirt into the ground. The rose finally, finally left her fingers when she threw it into the grave, taking with it several drops of blood on its pristine white petals. She didn't turn around at the sound of shovelling, choosing to walk away instead. She chose to push her pain down inside, rather than let it out.

At home, she'd left her sister alone in the living room. She didn't think she could bear watching Serah cry anymore; turning to go up the stairs, she went into the study where their mother had always done the bills. Lightning took a breath - all of that would fall on her shoulders now, but there was no other choice. She'd already sorted out the bills that needed to be paid - the piles of paper had been left untouched in the last few weeks of her mother's life, and she'd put the accounts in a different corner of the table. She'd only needed one glance at them to know that they wouldn't last long without some sort of income, and even then, it wouldn't stretch beyond a few years.

Even then, she knew needed a job. Briefly, Lightning wondered what sort of place on Cocoon would hire a fifteen year old, but she couldn't let her grief and sense of powerlessness bury her now. And there was no way in hell she'd ever let Serah work - the harsh reality outside of their house would for sure tear her delicate sister apart... if their mother's death already hadn't.

It was dark before she made her way downstairs again, tiptoing in case her sister had cried herself to sleep. But no, Serah was still up, watching the snow slowly fill up the windows outside. Hesitantly, she made her way to her, unsure if Serah wanted her presence right now. But she'd turned the moment Lightning approached, reaching out small, slender hands. Back then, she'd taken them without hesitation, pulling her sister into an awkward embrace.

"You okay, Serah?" The question had seemed too simple... too undescriptive of their current situation, but she felt her sister snuggle against her collarbone anyways, playing with a loose pink strand of hair. Her eyes were still red and puffy.

"I'm fine... but Claire... what about you?" Lightning swallowed her anger at the name - she'd let it go... just this once. There was a pause. "We'll be okay, right?"

In that moment, she had believed it. Even if she hadn't, she would have forced herself to believe it. There was no way she was letting her sister go to some orphanage... There was no way she was letting that smile be wiped off her face in mere seconds. She had to believe that they would be alright. There was no other way forward.

"Yes. We'll be fine, I promise. Serah... nothing will ever hurt you again... okay? I promise that too."

The dream was so real, so vivid, that for a moment, Lightning was confused as to where she was. Her sister's voice had sounded so clear and vibrant that in the space between two heartbeats in a consciousness that was neither asleep nor awake, she thought that perhaps, what had happened had been just that as well: a nightmare. The thought of that was something like a painkiller that threaded through the grey realm of dreams where she was semi-conscious in, before pain tore across the upper half of her body and the last words she'd said to Serah slapped her in the face.

"Nothing will ever hurt you again... okay? I promise." The words grated against her ears, and suddenly, the last vestiges of the dream were too painful to comprehend. Her eyes snapped open only to find the white ceiling stained with late afternoon sunrays and an all too agonizing reality waiting for her. Unable to escape from the lingering embrace of the dream, she lay there, trying to focus on one thing only: how to breathe without feeling pain.

It didn't work; the physical pain was nothing next to the surge of emotions that replaced the last remnants of the dream. All she could think about was how she couldn't protect Serah... how Serah had died. Lightning knew she could never detach herself from the moment: no matter how hard she tried, waking up from dreams that chased and snapped at her only greeted her with an empty, overwhelming reality she didn't want to face. Why can't they just... keep me asleep? Not the sleep that haunted her towards the end of every night, filled with images she would have given anything to forget; she wanted the drug induced, dreamless sleep that was her only salvation. The only way... I can continue to exist.

She would wake up and feel pain and desolation devour her before she even knew why. That was how completely it had ravaged her emotions. The strong, stoic soldier inside her was gone. She'd felt that side of her cease to exist the moment she knew Serah was gone. Serah was the one person she'd fought for, lived for... the one person that she'd promised to protect. And look at how... how I failed even that. She'd promised! Not just Serah... her mother... And the moment her mother came into her thoughts, Lightning wanted to grasp her head between her hands and scream.

There were so many people she'd failed. Serah, Snow... It was too hard to comprehend, too hard to even begin to process those thoughts. What scared her the most was that she no longer had the will to process her own thoughts and emotions; all of them were thrown in a mess inside, and she didn't have the strength to even try to grasp them - she'd submitted to their pressure without resistance, letting it control every motion and thought. The very opposite of what she'd been taught to do... but she no longer cared. The person she'd been fighting for no longer existed.

A small click sounded from somewhere she couldn't pinpoint, and it was awhile before she processed that fact that it was someone entering her room. For a moment, she wanted to reject that thought - if it was Snow... But the footsteps were soft, and in her still slightly hazy vision in the face of the afternoon sun, she saw someone clothed in pale pink, brushing past the teal-and-silver sleeping form that was Hope. Even in her still half-drugged state, the sight of him sent a stab of pain through her when it brought back what had happened the last time she'd been awake. The one time her body had let her cry and the look on his face when she'd said his name, her mind finally recognizing that he was there. He looked at me like... like he didn't know who I was. For a moment, that had hurt... until she realized she didn't want him to recognize her. The further he stayed away from her, the better. That one thought had brought on the rest of the onslaught of memories and emotions that made her want to escape again.

The only thing was he hadn't backed away when she realized she was losing it again. Instead, all he'd done was draw closer to her, and before she had even begun to think about what had happened, his arms were around her neck, pulling her into a shy, warm embrace. The gesture had sent something else through her tormented, exhausted frame - a shock that had iced her to the spot; unable to pull away, her forehead on his shoulder. That feeling, whatever it was, had lasted only a second before the same rush of pain had urged her to push him away... and that was when the words that described her utter patheticness had slipped out. He'd let go of her then, backing away in shock, before the urge to run, the same impact of emptiness had attacked her at the look on his face, had taken control. She didn't remember anything that happened after that: the darkness and moonlight merging into a similar environment where light had contrasted with darkness, one that was all too familiar.

A small tap on her shoulder forced her to look up, slowly raising her head, hair pressed against the pillow. The nurse was smiling brightly down at her, but for some reason, Lightning couldn't comprehend that emotion. The smile...

"Hi hun. How're you feeling today?" the nurse chirped away cheerfully, clearly unaware of her current mental condition. Small, plump fingers tightened around her wrist; she let the gesture guide her movements without resistance. The woman was scribbling away on a clipboard with her other hand, the surface balanced against the edge of the bed, but Lightning didn't reply. There was nothing to say.

It was awhile before anyone filled the silence, when the nurse let go of her wrist - she let it fall back on the bed. In the small movement, Lightning saw that something else had been added to the mess of IV's threaded into her left hand - a small, plastic bracelet that read 'Mentally Disorientated'. She didn't even know when they'd put the white band on her, but it didn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore.

If the nurse found something odd about her silence, she didn't voice it. Instead, after a few minutes of reticence, the nurse put a hand on her abdomen, clearly checking for the stitches. Instantly, even in her painkiller cloaked consciousness, the slight pressure made Lightning arch her back against the brush of contact, her body immediately reacting to it as pain wracked her frame. The nurse looked at her concernedly, removing the touch.

"Does it hurt?" Lightning didn't reply - even the small involuntary motion had sent yet another burning claw of pain up her upper body and she desperately wanted to relax the muscles that had instantly tensed. However, this time, the nurse didn't let her lack of a response go through without a comment, instead, laying her hand gently back on top of the stitches, gently, slowly, pressing her back down. "Do you want some more painkillers?"

Turning her head away, Lightning found herself facing the blank, white wall only two or three feet away from her, trying to imagine her own pain being wiped as blank as the smooth surface. But the white panel only served as a canvas as her own mind painted the images before a whimper escaped her lips. A sudden pain throbbed through her hand - the rush of some other medication being pushed into her system, and she found her fingers clenching together, as if the motion would dispel it. The added effect of whatever drugs were now in her system made her eyes heavy again, and she gave up fighting it, letting herself relax as the slow lull of medication dulled all other physical sensation. If only it would stop... If only it would make me forget...

The nurse tossed one more comment over her shoulder as she cheerfully left the room, after redraping the covers over her body. "Don't worry, hun, you'll only have to last without the use of your lower body for only another day or so. Your operation is scheduled first thing in the morning in two day's time... so, I'll see you then!"

It was awhile before Lightning found that she could process the sentence and what it meant. The thought scared her for some reason; like the idea of walking again was too much to ask. Like walking again will just be the reminder that the last time I walked... Serah still existed. This time, however, the tears couldn't come. Apart from the yawning emptiness that didn't seem to be growing smaller her sister's death had left, there was nothing else she could feel again. There wasn't enough room to contain those feelings that wanted to consume her before the drip in her left hand pulled her under into the dreamless, blissfully painless world of sedative-induced sleep again.

Hope found his face pressed against the rough wool of the back of the chair, the bristly material leaving imprints on the cheek that had been pressed against it as he raised his head, eyes still heavy with sleep. The light of the dying sunlight in the face of a blood red sunset played with the back of the chair, casting long shadows on the wall opposite. His eyes travelled, almost instinctively, to Lightning, whose eyes were closed. A small frown crossed his lips - the covers were rearranged neatly over her, and he was quite sure that they had not been that way this morning when he'd finally given in to sleep. She was curled slightly on one side; her head facing the wall, she was orientated with her back to the window as far as the restraints around her middle would allow her.

Slowly, Hope got to his feet and shuffled his way to her bed, wanting desperately for her to be awake. The need to be comforted, especially after last night, was overwhelming, and he wanted her to talk to him, wanted to hear her tell him it was going to be okay. The memory of last night pushed all such sentiments out of his mind before he berated himself for being so stupid and selfish - what kind of comfort could she give him... especially after she as good as told him she wanted to die?

Sitting down on the corner of the bed, Hope heard her even breathing, and his heart sank, even after his last thoughts. There was no way she could be awake and sound that peaceful. Something new on her left wrist, which was sprawled away from her body, caught his eye. Reading the tiny black script on it, Hope felt like he was going to be sick. Is this... how they see her? Is this what she's medically classified as? The thought made him angry, really. She needed some way to escape from the inner anguish eating away at her and all they could do about it was pump painkillers and sedatives into her when she got too upset.

The initial anger at seeing the plastic thing around her wrist gave way to fear almost instantly when the anger faded away. It was impossible not to see her as a mother figure in some ways... and that just made things worse. He'd already lost his real mother in the Hanging Edge... seeing her mortally wounded, watched the blast of fire burn away at her, watched her lifeless body fall into the abyss below the Hanging Edge. It scared him that he could lose Lightning too, even though it wouldn't be in the same way, even though physically, she was still here. He was scared she'd never outrun the mental demons and they'd never let her go. He was scared that he'd lose her, irrevocably, to those mental injuries, even though she was going to live.

His fingers found hers without hesitation, but this time, it was him that needed her comfort... he needed to know she was there; unlike last time when he'd hoped the contact would give some form of comfort to her. Slowly, without realizing it, Hope wiped away the tears that he didn't know were leaving trails on his cheeks.

"Light... please be alright, please..."

She has to be... right?

Snow pushed his hand through his hair, feeling the sweat in the blond strands. Retying his bandanna, he straightened, moving over to the window to watch the last edge of the sun drop down below the line of the mountains that surrounded their home in Gran Pulse. He didn't know what Sazh had wanted from him until the older man had led him into Command, sporting digital maps and books piled high on the tables.

It was a little hard to pay attention at first, but the moment the commander had mentioned the Eclipse, Snow felt the familiar anger push through the grief as he was brought to concentrate on the situation.

Even with only two crystals, the current projection done by the Pulse Management computers was that the Eclipse had enough power to drown the southern parts of Gran Pulse in darkness and monsters. It would be enough to overrun the entire population of Cocoon that had settled on Pulse, as well as possibly other indigenous peoples should they live in the radius of the umbra that would be spread. The more crystals the man had, the larger the umbra would be. For the first time since Serah's death, Snow found the strength inside himself to feel thankful that they hadn't given the man more.

That gratefulness had been wiped in an instant when the next insight was laid on the table. There was an optimal place to initiate the Eclipse, to ensure that its range would go as far as possible to allow the maximum possibility of consuming enough souls to open the Door of Souls. And in hindsight, Snow thought that maybe it was a little obvious, a little too ironic as to the place, that he might have suspected it sooner.

Of course, it was from inside Cocoon's crystallized shell.

By the current projections, the large, crystal structure was the highest point anywhere on Gran Pulse, even taking into consideration the mountains. It also happened to be the closest landmark to any large human civilization. At the thought, Snow let out a groan. This has to end where it all began, doesn't it?

"You okay?" Sazh had appeared at his shoulder, offering him a steaming cup. He took it, but found no solace in its warmth that it spread to his fingers. Like every other movement he made, the motion was automatic. It still held no meaning other than it was something he had to do.

"Yeah. I'll live." The statement was flat, but Snow couldn't think of another way to express the flat despair inside that could rarely be punctuated by another small impression of something else.

The older man sighed. "Long battle ahead of us still... You sure you're up for it?"

That sentence happened to be one of the exceptions, as Snow felt the icy determination colour the grief that had buried him. "That... I am up for." His voice hardened. "I'll see this through... no matter what. I'll punch the guts out of the creep that killed her." Sazh looked at him the moment he snarled the last words.

"Don't let your anger take over your emotions now there... Though I understand the sentiment. You're not the only one who's lost someone to someone else. Once, I was just like you."

Snow looked at the older man critically. "What... do you mean?"

There was a sigh and a long pause before the other man spoke. "You may know... I lost my wife too. She was caught in a velocycle accident. She hadn't even been driving one. The debris from the crash hit her in the head. She was dead before the paramedics even had a chance to get to her." Sazh's tone was oddly flat. "I hated myself as much as you probably do now. I wasn't even there for her, didn't even get to say goodbye." There was a brief silence as Snow tried to comprehend what the man was saying. "I wanted revenge as much as you did. What drunken idiot was out with his velocycle? What stupid person didn't even try to save her? But the longer and harder I looked, the more I was consumed by my anger. I couldn't even hang around Dajh anymore because I was so angry."

Was that what he was becoming? Someone so set down the path to revenge that he couldn't even see what he was going to be? Snow didn't want to see himself become that person. He'd already hurt Lightning more than he should have - the question had slipped out in a moment of uncontrolled grief and anger that the one time he hadn't been there... she was torn from him.

The older man continued. "But when I stepped back, stepped away from the grief, I saw what I was becoming. I didn't want that... I still wanted Dajh to have a happy life. I still wanted to enjoy my time with my remaining family members. So... you see, death is hard. It's hard on everyone, but life goes on. You don't stop living because someone you loved is gone. Whether or not you like it, the clock's still tickin' for you." Sazh gave him a long, hard look. "Look, I know it's hard when her death is still so fresh in your mind. And she'll never leave - she's like a scar. I don't mean that in a bad way or anything, but... as long as you live, a part of her lives too, y'know? And I'll bet this chocobo chick that she'd have wanted ya to be happy even when she's gone. You see where I'm goin' with this?"

The funny thing was, Snow did see. He knew the older man was right, knew that life went on. Even if I never let go of her... Sazh tossed him one last comment before walking away.

"We've got some more work to do before we hit the hay there, hero. And... you make sure you pass on what I said to soldier girl too. I have a feeling she's taking this hard as well."

That's an understatement.

Hope found himself being pushed awkwardly to one side as the doctor scribbled away on a clipboard while an anesthesiologist pressed something over Lightning's face. For the first - and he was quite sure it would not be the last - time in his life, Hope doubted the ability of the medical staff at the hospital. Irrational fears were beginning to crawl over his skin - what if she never woke up? What if they couldn't fix her? Hope could feel himself starting to panic.

He took several breaths, pressing his back against the cold glass pane of the window just behind him. I'm just starting to be stupid now. Covering his face with his hands, thumbs scratching the sides of his cheeks, he concentrated on pulling breaths through his fingers. In, out... He couldn't let himself think about her right now.

Someone prodded him in the shoulder - it was the same doctor that had kicked Snow out of the hospital, except this time, half his face was covered by a surgical mask. Hope felt the same old fear reawaken as his stomach twisted itself into knots. "Fifteen minutes before she's scheduled to go in. You wanna keep her company till then, kid?" He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

The doctor closed the door behind him, and Hope could see a pager next to his ear - no doubt summoning the other doctors needed. Trying to stop himself from trembling, he went to sit beside her, unsure of whether he should be reaching for her hand. To his surprise, her fingers found his the moment he settled himself in the chair, and Hope found himself instinctively squeezing back. One look at her face and the expression in her eyes told him this was one of Lightning's 'better days', one where she wasn't completely lost in her own depression and guilt. The pain still lurked in her delicate features, but this time, her eyes weren't haunted by the lifeless look he'd almost accustomed himself in seeing in her. She looked like she knew what was going on.

"Hey." Hope tried to make himself sound stronger than he felt. "You're going to be okay, alright? They said they'll fix you."

She glanced at him, once. "I'm scared." Her voice was muffled by the mask over her face, and the moment she uttered the two words Hope wished he could escape just like she wanted to. Lightning had only ever admitted she had been scared... once: the one time she'd almost been consumed by her own indecision. That moment back in the icy reaches of northern Gran Pulse felt like a lifetime ago.

"Don't be." Last time... all he'd wanted was for her to understand, to understand that she wasn't alone. But this time, Hope could tell that with whatever he said, his words would affect her in more than one way. She couldn't lose control of her emotions now, not when... Not when she needs this operation to go right for her. Taking another breath, Hope pushed down his own feelings, swallowing the tears that were threatening him again, before he spoke. "We're all here... We'll be waiting for you, alright? I'll get Snow to come and bring you home."

She didn't reply, but he'd seen her flinch the moment he mentioned Snow. Crap. "Light... Please don't do this... We need you... okay?" His voice trembled on the last syllable, and he felt her fingers hold his a little tighter. Like... like holding onto me is her way finding a lifeline. If that was the case, then he wouldn't pull away. It surprised him that the action of holding hands no longer felt awkward to him anymore - maybe it was because they'd repeated the motion so many times in the past few days that it no longer felt awkward and embarrassing, like the mutual need had overridden all other confusing and uncomfortable emotions that might have been associated with the contact.

If Lightning heard, or acknowledged his last question, she didn't show it. Instead, she closed her eyes, and Hope felt her hand relax in his. There was a long pause, where the moments ticked away in silence. "Hope... I'm sorry..." she finally replied quietly, her voice barely audible and her fingers putting hardly any extra pressure on their joined hands apart from the gravity that was pulling them down onto his.

"No! Light... it's not your fault!" His instant denial elicited a small, pained groan from her, but he continued, pushing away the doubt. "Light... no one blames you, alright? We just want you home... where you belong. We want you back... okay?"

There was no way to know if she had understood what he was asking of her; at that moment, the door reopened, and Hope could hear the sound of voices outside. There was only one moment to hold her fingers in both of his hands, gripping her left hand tightly in his, trying to convey all his emotions in that one simple gesture.

It was something of a relief when he felt her fingers tighten around his, just enough to let him know that in some way, she'd heard, before the doctors took her away from him, leaving him there with a promise to give him an update in a few hours.

Light... we really need you back. We want you to be okay... alright?

*takes deep breath*

Wow. I really, really, hope that this was okay for all of you guys, that Lightning and Hope came off alright. I spent so, so long on the very first segment there with her... trying to convey her emotions and thoughts right. Grieving Lightning is hard in so many ways because she never showed much of it in the game, and obviously mine has grown since she took out her pain by banging away at everything she sees. But, on the other hand... I do think that truly losing Serah in an irreversible way is the one thing that would utterly break her. :/

Anyways, leave love as always in reviews, and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Hearts!