So here's the second half! I decided not to add anything extra and just keep it for the next chapter :) I definitely had a song on repeat while I was coming up with ideas and writing certain scenes and that was 'Summer '78' by Yann Tiersen (vocals by Claire (hehe) Pichet...I think that's her last name, I'll have to double check). It's really a moving piece and I encourage you guys to listen to it.

I hope you enjoy!

The crowdedness made her uneasy; no announcement was being made and everyone was just standing around; quiet, curious spectators. A nearby running helicopter was the only noise echoing through the fenced-in area of the base. She maneuvered through a couple groups, people making way once they noticed her. What's going on? She kept going, leaving the covered path, swiftly moving to the front, stopping when she eyed the wide gap and the people standing on the other side. A procession? A cold breeze tugged her hair from her collar and she smoothed it back behind her ear.

At one end, the empty hangar was open; it was often used as an emergency entrance because of its corridor-connection to the hospital.

"Hey Lightning?"

"Hm."

"Did you…did you mean it when you said 'you have me'?"

Lightning slowed to a stop and turned around, staring down at him. She flustered him by leaning down to his level. "So now you think that since your father isn't dead, I'm going to leave you all of a sudden. Is that right?"

His face slightly downturned, his green eyes were large and round and he just stared right back at her, mouth a small line.

She sighed. "If you promise to never leave mine, I'll never leave yours," she said with a sly smirk.

An unsure smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I…of course I promise."

She chucked him under the chin, startling him slightly; he responded with a shy little laugh. "See? Make good on that and you'll never have to ask that question again."

She watched the stretcher go by, a white sheet draped over a small form. But you didn't. Her chest seemed to be heaving, but she was breathing so slowly. She followed with her eyes, unable to tear her gaze away even though a part of her desperately wanted to—and yet her fingers ached to rip the cover off. Through the fog of the anesthetizing nothing, she started wondering why a stretcher and not a body bag.

The crowd was dispersing and she found herself leaving with them.

A solitary figure in a fraying gray coat stood by the entrance gates, leaning against the support pole, chatting with the man in the security booth. "Snow." She tightened her fist, his careless slip-up still fresh in her memory; but the look on his face stopped her. It was obvious as the sun in the sky—if she hit him, there would be tears. "If I didn't have a heart," she muttered to herself. "What are you doing here?" She didn't want him standing there; she didn't want to see his gently grinning face. Alone, she could handle the pressure that was building up within her, but with someone there—she could already feel her heart constricting. In her mind's eye, she kept replaying the stretcher and the small body it must've have carried.

He uncrossed his arms, shrugging as if it seemed self-explanatory. "Here to walk you home, Sis." He grinned with all his chumminess charm, but the bags beneath his eyes and his reddened glum eyes told of a floodgate being kept at bay.

She took a weary step back, giving a firm shake of her head. "Snow," she repeated; a slight threat sharpened her tone, but to her dismay, there was a slight waver at the end and it turned out to be more of a melancholic plea.

He looked her over, preparing to utter some lame apology, but the sentence never came together when the way she was standing struck him as defensive: her gaze rife with silent warning, her right arm was pulled back, outstretched fingers just inches from the handle of her packed gunblade—the way a wounded wolf with raised hackles bared bloodstained fangs to appear dangerous and capable. No mistake she'd rather me leave, but really, she's hurting and either she doesn't want to acknowledge it or she wants to bear it alone. He strode forward. Or she expects herself to bear it alone. With a quick arm, he hooked it around her shoulders, almost dragging her through the gates, but only because she kept stumbling in an attempt to break free.

"You idiot, we're in plain view, I don't need people seeing me get shoved around by some giant—next time you try something like that I'm going to smack you. Now let go."

Snow looked down, letting her toy with his arm, but when she actually managed to pry his hand from her shoulder, he quickly shoved it under her arm and yanked her back. The recoil effect was a lot stronger than he anticipated—stemming from the fact that she didn't expect to be ignored—and Lightning slammed into his chest, her hands splayed out in front of her, a husky gasp forced from her.

Oh shit. Snow froze, waiting for the rebuke. Her only response was to tense up. He remembered the way she had collapsed in his arms the night Hope was abducted, the devastation that forced her to weep so uncontrollably and without thinking he placed his hand on the back of her neck and wrapped his other arm around her, keeping her encircled, but making sure to not press her body against him. Their encounter in Vallis Media rang in his mind and from within his arms, it was the best privacy he could offer at the moment.

She continued to stay stock-still and the thoughts running through her head were quiet and contemplative—not rash solutions that ended with him kneeling on the ground. There was a tingling reminder in her side and she closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his chest, letting her fingers curl around the excess fabric of his shirt. This was the man her sister found comfort in; as reckless and foolish as he was, Lightning could see why. He was always ready to be there. Even for someone like her.

She took a deep breath. "If only we could've saved him too," she whispered and afterwards, she bit her tongue, tears welling up as if summoned by her words. Hope, why did I never tell you how much you actually meant to me? Why didn't I realize it? Slowly she spread her arms out and Snow took care of the rest, hugging her tightly. It's you I want to hold. To hold and never let go. The sound of Snow crying pushed her over the edge and finally her own tears spilled. I was afraid and you said you wouldn't leave my side. You promised…and if it wasn't so unfair, I'd hold it against you. Maker knows some sick part of me wants to.

Abruptly she pulled away from him, swiftly going on ahead. Not put off in the least, Snow wiped his eyes, saving them from the stinging cold and ambled after her, staying a comfortable pace behind.

Lightning sidestepped Dajh, stopping when her finger was jerked. She glanced down at him inquiringly, her arm stretched out as he kept a firm grip on her ring finger.

"Where's Hope?"

"Your father didn't tell you anything?"

Dajh tightened his grip. "He said he wasn't coming back." Looking troubled all of a sudden, he added, "Like how mommy never came back."

Lightning retraced her steps slowly, wiggling her finger loose to take his hand in hers. "So why are you asking me?" she asked softly. Dajh's brown eyes began to water and he tried to muster an angry look.

"Because it's not true," he said defiantly.

She had nothing to say, but knowing she couldn't just leave, she lifted him up into her arms; attempting to place him on the curve of her hip, she repeatedly pulled him higher as he kept slipping. For a split second, she seriously thought she was doing something wrong until she realized it was the boy's lack of cooperating limbs. He didn't want to hang onto her. Flustered and not used to what she could only assume was rejection from him, she gave an exasperated huff. "I don't have time for this," she muttered, lowering him back down. "Your father's right. Hope's not coming back."

She wasn't smiling and Dajh fidgeted under her cool gaze. "You're hurt," he explained meekly, pointing to her side. "Daddy told me before I had to be careful because you were hurt." He looked down, scuffing his sock against the floor. "Don't be mad."

She reached out to lift his chin, but pulled her hand back at the last minute. "It doesn't hurt anymore," she said quietly.

"Hey kiddo," Snow greeted good-naturedly, closing the front door with his foot. He sauntered over, grabbing the boy by his arms and pulling him up.

Light roamed around, turning back to look at the two. "Serah isn't here?"

"She went out with my dad to get food," Dajh piped.

She narrowed her eyes. "And left you alone?"

"They didn't leave long ago. I told daddy I was a big boy and could be good until you got here."

Snow chuckled, jostling the kid in his grip. "Still gonna be good now that she's here?"

"Uh-huh."

"Look at you, doing the right thing."

Serah, I wanted to apologize. Lightning pressed her hands to cheeks and groaned, raking her hair back. "I'm going upstairs."

"Hey Light…"

She turned her head slightly to show she was listening.

"Um, you wanna hang out down here for a bit? I'm sure she'll be back soon."

She knew what would happen if she did. She'd end up in another embrace without the strength to pull away."No."

Sazh shouldered the two canvas bags, guiding Serah back onto the sidewalk as she absentmindedly strayed onto the street. "She tried her damn hardest—been doing it the whole time, and in the end, loses what she was trying to protect. Serah, that don't make sense to me. Make the impossible possible—didn't work for her this time and I can't help but think that it's partially our fault."

Serah twisted her hands around the cloth handles, keeping her eyes on the path before her. "I think you're right about that," she concurred solemnly. "But—"

"I know I know, it's the guilt talking. But when you and Dajh were up in that crystal, you can believe it, we were working day and night, gave not a chocobo's rear about the supposedly 'overruling' authority we should've been listening to. We raised some l'cie mayhem…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "We ain't l'cie anymore, but that shouldn't have stopped us."

"No one wanted to be a fugitive…getting on the government's bad side with taking back and harboring a 'potential' weapon. No one wanted to run again. Where'd we go this time?" Her eyes brimmed with tears and she mustered a stern face, eyes locked forward like she'd seen her sister do so many times. But unlike her, she didn't have the self-discipline it took to keep one's feelings masked. Her face crumbled and she turned around to face him, swinging the bulging bag. "Hey Sazh, I don't think this talk is helping. This 'voice of reason' stuff and countering the blame…it's not working, so let's not talk about it anymore."

Sazh sighed, rubbing his forehead. "No one could've known what was going to happen," he said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Now let's get these groceries home. And try to get your sister to eat something—maybe the effort will get you to eat too."

I haven't been eating? Sure I have… Serah slowed down again and Sazh chuckled.

"Don't think too hard now."

"I'm not! I had a cracker with jelly on it this morning."

"That's not food."

"Hmph, I never said it was, but it was eating. Light can't even top that." She skipped forward. "Not that that's a good thing," she added, glancing down at the bag and determined to entice her sister to eat with the behemoth steak she had planned. She grinned. "When she's drunk, she can finish a whole steak by herself!"

Sazh detected the quivering beneath the cheer. "That from experience?"

She nodded. "It was…way before all this, back when Snow was a guilty pleasure I dropped hints about…" Back when we found we could still laugh without it ending in an argument. "I just want to apologize…Sazh, you should've seen her face, it was like…like…" But Serah couldn't finish because just thinking how betrayed she looked was too much—as if their parents had never died and Serah was keeping their existence to herself to enjoy.

"Well, here's your chance then," Sazh said, opening the door and allowing her to go first.

She decided the steak wasn't a good idea. No one was quite their right self and as silly as it sounded, she didn't imagine anyone would want to methodically chew steak. The shimmery soup simmered on the stove, its golden broth giving off a delicate, soothing aroma. Serah dipped the ladle in, stirring in chips of sweet carrot and bits of briny whitefish, adding a tiny pinch of cinnamon and paprika. Bringing the big spoon to her lips, she lapped a taste, licking her lips. I'm sure Lightning's going to love this. Glowing with a satisfied smile, she turned the knob to the lowest setting and tottered sideways to reach the upper cabinet. A massive presence made itself known behind her.

"Need help?" Snow offered.

She really didn't; she could reach the bowl herself, but there was no harm in letting Snow think he was needed. "I'd appreciate it," she giggled. She waited patiently for him to grab the earthenware, but found herself levitating instead. "Ah!"

He had a firm grip around her hips. "C'mon baby, reach for it—it's all you. Not high enough? Ok, I'll work on it." He hefted her onto his shoulder and she giggled hysterically, grabbing onto his head.

She was, in fact, higher than the desired bowl, but after she got accustomed to her new perch and confident that Snow had her and she wouldn't wobble and tip over, she grabbed the dish with two hands and brought it to her chest.

"Alright," he chuckled, sliding her to the floor. A hand on her back, he leaned over the pot, taking a hearty whiff.

Serah batted him lightly on the chest. "Be patient, I'll call you when it's finished. My sister gets dibs."

"I understand, I understand…I'll look longingly from over here." He grinned and gave her a friendly swat on the rear. Biting her lip, she shot him a squinty-eyed look with a slight smile.

"My butt's not for spanking," she allowed haughtily, dipping a spoon into the full bowl. He leveled her with a stern stare, a cocked eyebrow and a crooked smile; she refused to blush and giggle. "I haven't been bad." She placed the bowl on a thin tray and blew him a kiss. "I'll see you in a bit. Hopefully I can get through to Sis."

Snow smiled. "I think you'll be able to," he said with an air of confidence. He followed her upstairs, but when she turned left, he went the other way, heading to their room. His throat dried up when he passed Hope's room, his mind stumbling over the realization that the ambitious fourteen-year-old would never again be in there. Maker, this isn't possible.

He had just tossed the black bandanna on the book-littered desk, scratching his head when their door opened and a worried Serah moped in. "She didn't want it?" he guessed incredulously. Aw c'mon Light, ease up. Looking her over, he caught the sparkly bobby pin between her fingers. "Or she caught you breaking in?"

"Is it bad that I do that?" she asked in a voice that revealed she already knew that answer and thought badly of herself for it. "She's in bed."

"What? It's like six at the latest…" And you put all your effort into making that soup… He made a sympathetic face, scrunching up his mouth. He placed his hands on her shoulders, giving her a massage. "Wake her up, I'm sure she won't breathe fire on you." She pulled away, wiping her eyes as if to stop tears before they came.

"She needs to be alone." She couldn't tell him that her sister was in the process of sobbing herself to sleep.

"But baby, you wanted to talk to her and everything. I can't see you two like this…I'll…great goddess, I'll end up joining you guys and no one wants to see me blubbering. It's not cute." He was trying so hard to keep from looking sad, his face contorted into a painfully pitiful grimace.

Serah touched her forehead briefly, shaking her head. "Don't start. Crying isn't shameful, Snow." She grabbed the edges of his fraying coat, looking up at him with earnest eyes. "If I…if I died Snow, I'd want you to cry—"

"Don't say that baby."

Her mouth tightened at being cut off and she gave a sharp tug. "I'd want you to cry," she repeated. "I'd want you to show your emotions. My hero doesn't hide from the truth."

"I want to be strong for my girl," he whispered.

Serah closed her eyes. "And I want us to overcome this as a family. We have to. For Light's sake." For all of our sakes.

"Seraaah!" It was Dajh calling from the foot of the steps. "Can I have some soup toooo?"

She put up her brave face, a light smile curving her lips; Snow mirrored her effort. "I set Lightning's aside, so you guys can eat all you want," she encouraged.

The living room was still dark, though Serah knew it couldn't be for much longer. A few more hours and the creeping blue light of the lightening sky would yawn its way through the windows, followed by the golden rays that would stretch across the furniture, floors and walls. She had promised Snow she'd be up as soon as she cleared the dishes—the last plate had been put away nine hours ago and here she was still sitting in the farthest corner, curled in a hand-carved chair no one ever used because it was antiquated and its worn seat cushion was barely thicker than a stack of tissues. Her rear was past numb and had fallen asleep with the rest of her unmoving body. As far as Serah was concerned, she was a weightless thing, waiting.

Waiting for a phone call to startle her out of her reverie, waiting for time to proclaim its cruel joke and rewrite the history of the last week. Waiting for some stupid entity to say, 'ha, joke's on you…you can turn around now and take off the blindfold…no one left…everyone's still here'. But it was the sound of footsteps that reminded her her blood had stopped flowing to her extremities. She let go of her knees and lowered her legs to the floor, wincing at the pins and needles that seemed to be vibrating manically throughout her lower half.

With the curtains closed in the living room, it would be hard for the person to know Serah was there, but she could make them out with a little careful—and painful—maneuvering. Her heart felt ten times lighter at recognizing a feminine shape—finally she'd be able to correct her unintentional wrongs. A shiny glimmer caught her eye from the table, but after failing to guess what it could be, she watched Lightning move soundlessly into the kitchen as if drawn by the small window. She crept quickly past the couch, stepping onto the white tiles, coming up behind Light. She extended her arm and paused. Gosh, what I am thinking? I'm going to scare her if I suddenly just touch her shoulder…should I say something first? That might scare her too! But wait…she probably already knows I'm here. She moved closer, preparing to utter a sorrowful apology.

The words never left her lips; Serah's hand slowly crumpled, her arm lowering. Dawn's weak rays, the color of faded petals from a dying rose, was barely enough to illuminate her sister's fine hair which hung in limp locks around her face. Beneath lowered lids heavy with sooty lashes and shadows, pale blues swarmed with a glassy sheen of tears. Her mouth, bathed in fragile light, parted lips in a relaxed pout, the lower one giving a gentle scarcely-noticeable quiver. Serah was about to drop her gaze, but a sparkle caught her attention as it entered her line of vision; a single tear trickling down the side of her face, disappearing in darkness. Thinking she'd see it land and waiting to further track its journey, Serah let her gaze wander down the pale glow of an arm, to an empty hand palm-up, slender fingers curled.

It wasn't hard to see her sister too was dying, but whereas the dawn would only grow stronger and brighter, she had a sinking feeling Light wasn't going to get better with the coming sun.

She took a silent step closer, intertwining her fingers with the lifeless hand on the counter. "It's not fair," she whispered, clasping her sister's hand with both. Nothing on Lightning's face registered that she was even aware of her presence. Serah reached with one arm, wrapping it around her neck. "Claire, it's not fair." She desperately wanted to ease her pain and in that moment, knew she'd have done anything. "You deserve happiness. I wish my love could bring you the happiness you need, I wish," but she didn't finish because she didn't have to say it aloud. Claire, if I could, I'd switch places…I'd…I'd give… But to her dismay, she couldn't even selflessly offer his name. I'd give up my love, my joy, so…if it would only bring Hope back… Claire, you have given me so much, gave up so much just so I could have it… even allowing me to be loved and for cared by someone you despised…I would live a life of despair if only you could be happy, if things would just stop and you could smile. "Lightning, I am so sorry," she choked, stroking her cheek. "I am so sorry—you know I would do anything."

Clutching her face with shaking hands, Serah pulled back, unsure whether tears were streaming down Claire's face or if it was just her own immensely blurry vision. She wiped her cheeks with tender fingers, but no dampness touched her tips. She stopped and slowly wiped her own wet eyes. She watched as Lightning averted her vacant gaze, bowed her head and gently broke from her embrace. She backed away and walked past her, Serah turning in time to see her grab the glinting object from the table which she now knew was her gunblade.

Her eyebrows knitted in a light frown and her heart gave a distressed twist as her sister turned the blade this way and that. Please… "Light?"

"I tried…so hard, but I can only take so much. I'm not perfect…" Lightning looked down, letting the handle drop from her fingers back onto the table. "What more can I fight for?" she asked in a brokenhearted whisper.

Me! Me, me, me! She wanted to shout selfishly, but instead frantically cried, "We'll think of something!" She lunged forward, grabbing her sister's forearms and giving her a good shake. "The Sanctum! PSICOM! We'll help you take them down; we'll punish them all—is that what you want? Say it! Say something! You're entitled to it! Scream Claire, grieve your heart out for Etro's sake—break down, give in to a moment of weakness—do anything—but don't hold it in and try to right wrongs you're not even sure how to right!" She took in Lightning's shocked expression.

"That's right, Claire. What are you going to do? What DID you do? Nothing because it had nothing to do with you! Hope's…" she shook her again, but her grip was weaker, "Hope's death had nothing to do with you, it wasn't your fault!" She hung her head, practically sobbing into her sister's bosom as she let what she was afraid of roll from her tongue. "J-just like—just like it wasn't my fault, right? Right Claire? You don't think it was my fault—" her head was tilted back harshly and she scrunched up her face, waiting for the impact of a slap. She cracked her eyes open when there was a moment of silence and Lightning's face came into view. This time she was crying.

"You thought I was going to hit you," Lightning seethed through clenched teeth, trying to disengage her arms from her sister's desperate grasp.

Serah whimpered when she was finally shaken off, squeaking when Lightning crushed her in a hug. "You're so stupid, why would I hit you?"

"Because I deserve it…"

"Well it wasn't your fault and I'm so sorry for making you think it was…there was no way you could've known…I'm just…I'm just—damn it Serah, I'm having a hard time—"

"Stop!" Serah broke from her embrace, giving a crazy nod. "That's normal, that's normal…as long as you know that—Light, you loved him," she trailed off, softening her tone. Her sister looked so miserably confused. "We always seem to realize those things a little too late, huh?" She tugged her to the couch.

I have to help her; I have to give it everything I've got. I can't lose her again. They both had their legs tucked under them, sitting face to face, leaning against the pillow. Serah reached out, combing her fingers through the tresses that hung over Lightning's shoulder. A simple gesture she made sure to repeat every few minutes.

"I had a strange dream…it's why I was up so early," Light confided quietly, her voice spent of any emotion. "It was this…dark empty expanse of nothing except for these trees in the horizon, but they weren't real…just like the moon felt…fake as if the light was being reflected off of something else, something a lot bigger and sinister. I was wandering, or maybe I wasn't going anywhere at all and Nora suddenly appears and she's holding Hope, but he's…he's just a small child." Her lip quivered and a tear soaked into the fabric of the couch. "She's telling me to take him, but every time I reach for him, my hands just pass through him; she's frantic, begging me to take her child and I can't. And then he falls through both of our arms, I mean just whoosh, he gives this terrified little scream and he's gone. Like the ground swallowed him."

"Claire…"

"She told me I couldn't let him run away again and I did worse. I let him fall."

"That's not your fault," she tried to protest. "It was just a dream."

Lightning lowered her gaze, subconsciously wrapping her arms around her middle. "It doesn't matter what it was. It haunts me."

Dajh let out a shriek of joy and popped up from his crouching position as the chocobo zoomed out its hiding spot and burrowed into another mound of snow. Hands cupped together, the little boy trudged a steps forward, eyeing the suspicious patch of crunchy snow. His weight being precariously supported by the frame of a badly-corroded metal chair, Sazh rubbed his bristly beard, putting on a half-hearted smile every time his son glanced at him.

"Look Daddy, you think he's here? Right here or right here?"

"Dajh, I ain't gonna tell you again—stay away from the edge of the house, that's sharp metal there."

"Daddy, I wanna play in the big shed." He spotted a yellow feather and plunged his hand into the hole, pulling out—just a tiny feather. He pouted and dropped it; a cheeping chick rising from the other mound. "You win!" he laughed.

"You know that's not a play area," Sazh said wearily. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, listening to his son's clumsy footsteps as he tottered through snow. A light, determined gust swept by, sprinkling tiny ice crystals along the ground, sounding like sugar being poured from a bag. It was constant and its faintness made it soothing to the ears. Sazh settled in his brittle chair, its arms and legs screeching briefly with the movement, keeping his hearing tuned for his son's voice.

It was a steady thrum, low and rhythmic like the every first beat of a resting heart. It was awhile before he even registered he was hearing it and even longer before he recognized it as a separate sound. Sazh opened his eyes slowly, staring at the cold blue sky and part of the rust red tin-shingle roof.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

What in the world? He swatted around his ear, sitting up. Dajh was a ways off, crouching and making snowballs. Furrowing his brow, Sazh looked out onto the white plain, but nothing marred the horizon. And beyond that is a bit of a drop-off. "Dajh, you hear something?"

The boy looked up grinning and shook his head. The chocobo, however, gave a string of excited chirps, though opting to stay with Dajh.

Something's amiss. "You stay right there," Sazh said sternly, getting up.

"'Kay."

It was getting clearer now—but not any louder; he could distinguish it as a drum beat, which only left him more puzzled. It takes people to drum, but I don't see anybody. He headed further away from the back of the house, one hand shielding his eyes, the other hovering close to a pistol. His foot froze in midair when a glimmer caught his eye, but before he could focus on the strange shimmer, a burst of frightening red appeared—bobbing crazily.

"What the—" He stopped himself from yelling at Dajh to get back into the house; he didn't want to attract that thing to his son and vice versa. He whipped out his pistols, aiming it for the red, lowering it in confusion when it was suddenly a lot more. The hell?

Swinging back forth were braids of red hair attached to a white mask with a long downward beak and an unsettling smile. Twice his height, it had a massive arm span—a webbed shawl draped over it flailing appendages—though whether the brightly-colored creature had arms or wings, he couldn't tell. Fitted with freakishly long legs and nasty talons, it hopped manically from one foot to the other, weaving its head in a sort of hypnotically terrifying dance.

"KIYAAAAAAHHH!" it screeched. Two of its brethren appeared behind, sharing in its call: one decked in white, gold and blue, the other a psychedelic teal—both with nightmarish masks and disconcerting leers.

"YAAAAAAHHHH—yah hak—YAAAAAHHHH!"

"KEEEHHH YAAAHHHH!"

"DAAAAAJHHH! YOU BETTER GET IN THAT HOUSE!" Sazh turned around, waving his arms. "I NEED SOME HELP OUT HERE!" He lunged forward, tripping in his haste through the thick snow. Landing heavily, he twisted around, expecting to see the three great monsters darting towards him, but instead of seeing his life flash before him, the situation seemed a lot calmer. They weren't even paying attention to him. Quickly he glanced back at the house and Dajh was still playing—it was like he was oblivious to what was going on.

The demon-like creatures were dancing in sync and after Sazh regained his breath, he realized they were dancing to the beat of the unseen drums. "Fal'cie smoke and mirrors, I'm going crazy," he murmured, leaning back. A whole ghost procession was materializing. Tall oval shields formed an opaque barrier and the people wielding them were just as obscure—but Sazh could make out enough. Maker, these guys are warriors… He began recalling Snow's impromptu history lesson on Asnida and he felt his mouth literally dry when another figure was unveiled in the midst of all the warriors.

"HOPE!"

Unmistakably the young teenager, the pilot's ecstatic surprised drained quickly and apprehension set in. The boy didn't look right. His head slumped forward, his steps were slow and sluggish and his skin had taken on a ghastly gray appearance. With the yellow and orange jacket missing, a black shirt rose with the wind to reveal claw marks and patches of dried blood. Hope stumbled.

One of the warriors sunk to his knees, followed by two others, and faded from sight.

Sazh scrambled up. Whether he made the journey dead or barely alive, it was a long trek from New Palum and Sazh was not about to let the boy die now. "Hope!" he called out again, fighting against the warnings that had been issued. He ain't dangerous! "You're safe now—Etro have mercy, you're home."

The white-haired demon thing turned around sharply, twisting its head, almost seeming inquisitive, but its frenzied jerks and creepy face just made Sazh dizzy. "Yah hak YAAAHHHH—"

"KIYAAAHH." The three knelt down, looking like harmless domes of bright cloth. The drum beats stopped and as if the rhythm sustained them, the warriors toppled to their side, camouflaging into the snow and vanishing. The silveret collapsed face first.

"Hey hey hey, hang in there!" Sazh rushed to his side, turning him over gingerly; his heart stilled. Hope's eyes were open—pupil-less, pinpricks of vivid green surrounded by a shade of gray darker than his skin tone. …He's turning cie'th? Is that possible? His chest heaved sporadically, drawing the man's attention, an acidic taste forming in the back of his mouth; beneath the boy's skin, lumps zigzagged around causing Hope to give a pained whimper. He's still just a kid! "Hold on Hope, stay with me, I'm gonna get you home—it's just a short walk from here." Sazh patted his cheek, giving a start when a pair of frightened emerald eyes stared up at him. Weary relief flooded through him and he let out a shaky chuckle. "'Atta boy…"

"L-Li-Light…L-Lightning…"

His pitiful stammer was enough to bring tears to the old man's eyes. He shrugged off his green jacket, scooping it under him. "Gimme five minutes." He eased Hope up, glad to see that Dajh had wandered inside. Would it be smart to bring him in? For all I know, this could be a trap. He glanced at the small warehouse. Better safe than sorry. "Five minutes and if you don't die now, you might just die of happiness."

Waiting to see if he was still self-banned from going downstairs, Snow peered over the banister, unable to keep back a grin. The two sisters hadn't moved from the couch, though now Lightning was brushing Serah's hair—both of them looked different without their signature hairstyles. Only at night did Serah ever taker her hair from its side-tail and Snow had never seen Lightning look so naïvely innocent with layers hanging evenly over both shoulders, especially while wearing an open neck lavender knitted sweater with quarter-sleeves. He tapped the railing, walking backwards. Ah, I can stay up here a lil' longer.

"Sis, you're bleeding!"

Snow hurried back to the banister, leaning over the edge. Sure enough, Lightning had a streak of dark red from her nose to her chin. She touched her lips cautiously, staring at the red that stained her fingertips.

She looked baffled. "I guess I am…"

Oohhh, so who was in the body bag? O.O Know what? I just remembered a scene that I cut out of the first half, pasted onto another document and forgot to put back in . But I'm totes tired, so I'll shove it back in tomorrow. Kinda short since it wasn't really a chapter all by itself, but I hope you still liked it! And who can guess who those monsters were? XD Hopefully I described them accurately enough...but yeah, I find them so creepy! Leave a review! I hamster them :]