After a very long and confusing day, right before he puts himself to bed, Hope gets a text message.
Just tlkd 2 Vanille. Thx. Meet tmw? –Fang
Hope sighs. Yes, that's what he'd have to do tomorrow. He rolls over on the bed and hits a hasty response.
Yeah. Long day. Sleep quick. Brunch?
He only has to stare up at the darkness of his ceiling for a moment before his phone chimes a reply. It's just an address with an 11:00am time. Hope hasn't toured much of the city, but he recognizes that street running somewhere down in Hell's Kitchen. He sighs. The coordinates suit Fang. No nonsense, quick meal, back on the feet.
He barely contemplates the thought before he hears his phone go off again. Aggravated, wondering what Fang could possibly want now, he snatches his phone up and sees that Fang is calling him.
Who calls anybody anymore? The thought flitters through his skull before he grinds his teeth and hits talk. "Hello?" He doesn't conceal his annoyance.
"Hey, love. Wake up call. Wanna make sure you're not running late. I have errands to run. Meetyou in an hour." The phone clicks, and Hope blinks, staring at his lit screen in wonder. 10:02. It's already the next day.
"Shit."
"Thanks for meeting up with me. I got the check on this. I love this place." Fang is already motioning him inside when Hope runs around the corner, panting. He's late, of course, but only by about five minutes. Taking his car would have been suicide in this part of the city-he had to take the subway, which in itself is a nightmare. He's only had to do it a few times. Living on the suburb outskirts of New York has its advantages.
He wonders how Fang can get around so quickly with that cane. She isn't limping quite as bad as when he first met her on this planet, her gait only a slightly off-kilter now.
"I haven't got to go to a lot of places here on this plane yet, but for some reason I was hungry and thought to duck into this place one afternoon. Now I go here if I can." Fang waves to a butcher chopping meat in the back, a huge burly fellow, and he waves back, complete with bloody cleaver in hand. Hope grimaces at the gore.
"That's T.J. He's great. Don't let him scare you. He comes off as kind of grumpy at first, but as you get to know him, you realize that he's really just a huge asshole." Fang chuckles at her joke, and slap Hope on the back. "Seriously, kid, you've got to try something. Anything. I'm in a generous mood. I personally love the fact I can get breakfast all day here. Not on the menu, but they know I keep crazy hours, so they improvise. Don't know if they'll cut you the same deal, now that I think about it." She scratches her chin. "Eh, let's just forget I said that, shall we?"
Hope cuts in before Fang can continue. "Yeah, Fang, sounds great. I'll have the fried rice. No pork."
Fang gives her old friend a tasteful sideeye. "Um, yeah, I'll try and see if they have that."
Turns out that Hope could get exactly what he wants, and as they sit at the counter together on wobbly stools, he glances at his food uneasily.
"It's best if you don't think about what you're eating. Open your mouth and close your eyes. Sometimes that helps."
To Hope's surprise, the food here tastes excellent, even better than the food true fare that he had with Claire last night. He exclaims as much, and Fang nods understandingly, wiping her mouth with the bare back of her hand. "I know. It doesn't seem much when they put it on your plate, but it's the taste that matters. Besides, prices are reasonable. This way, I can pay without putting too much of a dent in my budget."
"So, just what DO you get paid here, anyway? And what exactly is it that you do?" Hope gets right to the point. Money no longer seems as important to him as it did just a few months prior, now that he has other priorities to sort out. But he still has to think of his future, just in case of the event that everyone is worrying for nothing, and Bhuni really has been put to pasture forever.
"Enough." Fang's answer on her paygrade is so typical, Hope can't be surprised by the curt response. He should have expected as much, coming from her. "I'm Special Forces, sweetheart. I work for the Pentagon, just as you will. As all of us do. We're playing for Team America, because that's what has the most firepower in this world. If you are facing the threat from an outside force, an alien threat, if you will, you wanna have the biggest and best guns at your back. Having the best military training doesn't hurt if you're prepared for the worst."
"This whole thing is setting me up to be part of your little operation."
Fang snorts as she picks at her steak and eggs. "Of course. You know that now. You're the smartest one of all of us. I give you more credit than that. Now you're going to be with us, as you should be." Hope knows that of all of his old friends, he can be the most upfront and honest with Fang. "Do you think that I'm being manipulated by the old god? That I'm being controlled, even now?" He has to hear what she thinks, even if he doesn't want to know. Even though he cares about Claire, out of all of the people he knew from his time as a l'Cie, he knows he can count on Fang to give it to him straight. He doesn't have to worry about trying to figure out what she's thinking. If she thinks he's a puppet, she will have no trouble telling him.
"No." Her response is firm, and for some reason, just hearing the cocksure attitude coming from Fang's mouth helps to set Hope's heart at ease. She shakes her midnight tresses. "You've been protected since your natural birth here. You've grown up as a part of the system, unnoticed. You've been no one special, and you've kept our thoughts to yourself. You've done nothing to draw attention to yourself thus far. Just a normal boy, living on a separate world. In that way, you can thank your parents. Their decision to lie to you has kept you safe. But now you're no longer a child. They can't shelter you anymore with their lies, Hope. You have to take responsibility and fight for what's right in this world."
Hope feels the old anger rising in his gut, and he draws his brows down firmly. "I WANT to fight for what's right in this world, Fang. I'm putting myself up for who-knows-what that's going to be done to my psyche and my body…"
"Keep it together, love. This isn't the place." Fang speaks calmly and softly, but Hope can tell that the tone belies the inherent warning in her words. Pulling himself together, he blinks, and looks around. There's the usual hustle and bustle sounds of any shithole diner, but he realizes that he was getting animated. A few dingy-looking patrons glance at them on their stools out of the corners of their eyes. He's composed now, and turns back to his surprisingly good rice.
"Sorry." He mumbles around a mouthful of food.
"Anyway, I wanted to take you out to say thank you for your kind words to Vanille. I'm glad that you have seen what's between us…"
Hope actually does draw attention to them now, but for an entirely different reason. He starts snorting, laughing so hard that he fears he might choke. "Ha!" He slaps his hand on his knee, and Fang slaps him on the back, a little too roughly. They nod off the murmurs from the rest of the people around them, and Fang hisses in Hope's ear.
"Are you TRYING to get us noticed?"
"Hey, I don't know what you're talking about, I'm just a kid trying to eat a meal with an old friend." Hope shrugs, and Fang settles back, half-cocked grin on her face.
"Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about. You're getting the hang of it, kid."
"Hang of WHAT?"
Fang frowns at Hope's snappish attitude, but chooses to dismiss his tone. "The hang of acting normal, like everything in your life is nothing special, outside of work. You have to appear to be a normal kid just going to military school, like every young American jock with dreams of stardust in their eyes, of being a hero."
Hope starts snorting again, but keeps it under control after a warning glint in Fang's eye. "I think you have me mistaken for someone else, then. My cover's already blown. I have no chance of being seen as a 'jock' in anyone's eyes."
Fang nods in curt approval, and though Hope completely understands and agrees with this assessment of him, on some level, it kind of hurts, too. He'd want to be seen as someone's hero. That would feel nice.
"Anyway, hopefully the training will pan out. It's what it's there for, after all. Worked countless times on greenies from all over. Boun to work for you, eh, champ?" Fang winks, and slugs Hope's arm.
He stops chewing, and slowly closes his eyes. "One day, I'm gonna duck."
Fang laughs, actually LAUGHS, into her hand. This draws more attention from those around them than Hope's guffaws ever did. "No chance."
They finish their breakfast and head out, the sounds of the city almost deafening as soon as they swing open the door. The sounds of a Hell's Kitchen diner sound relatively quiet in comparison. The late February sky is as dreary as one could expect on a New York afternoon, and the smog is thick, rolling in waves. Fang breathes it all in deeply.
"A girl could get used to this. It's almost as dangerous out here as it was back in Pulse. Almost."
Hope assesses his friend, knowing that absolutely no one, in this world or the last, would breathe in New York's air appreciatively. "You're one hell of a specimen, Fang."
Fang hails a taxi, getting one almost immediately. The city agrees with her, her pace, her style. Coming from the wilderness, he would have guessed that she would feel out of sorts in such an industrial place. Not so with Fang, it seems.
They get into a cab, but not before she gives Hope her famous side-eye, made all the more devious by the tell-tale birthmark under her right eye. "Watch it, kid. Are you hitting on me? I'm more trouble than you can handle."
Hope is laughing at this too, and does so without fear of reproach this time. "Absolutely not. I know better. Besides, we're neither of each other's type. Although, I would guess that I'm almost pretty enough for you."
This statement actually makes the old fighter laugh, and she has no trouble negotiating getting into the backseat with her cane laid across her knees. Hope barrels in.
"Where're we going again?" Hope followed Fang in, bus has no idea what the rest of the day would foretell.
Fang winks. "Top secret." She then gives some coordinates to the driver, who, at first, wants to pretend that he can't understand her English. Fang does still cling to her strange Pulsian accent, after all. After one look at the glinting cane acrss her knees, and the dangerous look in her eye, the cabbie decides to follow her instructions without a word, snapping his mouth shut and putting the car into drive.
Hope catalogs this all in the back of his mind. "You have absolutely no problems in the inner boroughs, do you?"
Fang eases back, unperturbed by the trash in the car, or the questionable smells that cling to the seat. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Hope. I love this city, and this city loves me."
Hope has to agree, knowing that he can take a page or two from her book of street know-how.
They end up at some sort of rsearch facility. Oh, it doesn't look like a top-secret government facility on the outside-it just looks like some derelict building in the old meat packing district down by the docks. To the untrained eye, the façade of worn out, dangerous industrial complex seems legit. But that doesn't fool Hope.
"Wait, there's something going on in here." The cabbie can only be allowed in so far, and from out of the shadows, a few street toughs block the way in. The driver cracks his window to yell a few insults back, but Fang stops him.
"Easy there, pal. You've done enough. Thank you. Who says you can't find good service in New York anymore, eh?" She gives him a $50, tells him to keep the change, and gets out.
Hope is eyeing up the building. "Hm, let's see. The windows are all boarded up-not one broken window in a street full of broken windows. We can't get too far inside without being stopped by some guys that mysteriously appear out of nowhere. It's by the docks, with exits galore and…yep…I bet you anything there's a transponder tower hiding behind that seemingly broken down old chimney top." Hope is talking to himself, but he can see Fang watching him out of the corner of her eye. He is scanning up and down the street, hands on his hips.
"Yep. The lack of any bird's nests seals it. Government facility. No question about it." Hope turns to Fang. "Where are you taking me, exactly?"
Fang smiles, not bothering to hide her admiration for the young scholar. "What is about to become your new home."
They make their way through a series of checkpoints, each more meticulously crafted than the last to look as if it's part of the neighborhood. The fact that this part of the city is constantly in a state of disrepair actually helps to hide a lot of the posts and gives lots of opportunities for sentries to stand behind waypoints. After Hope shows his I.D., and Fang does a lot of talking, they are led inside. A couple of times, new recruits seem to want to stop them for further questioning, but they take one look at Fang's cane and think twice.
Hope voices his observation once they are led inside, behind what is seemingly an old grate. It's coated to look like rust, but it pulls back without the slightest sound, on invisible pivot hinges.
"You must be very good at hand-to-hand combat for those guys with guns to look at your cane and decide not to push you."
Fang laughs. "It doesn't have as much to do with my fighting skills as it has to do with my reputation. They have profiles of who is allowed to come here. They all know that my dossier contains info that I'm injured and have a limp. Anyone that tried to pretend to be me wouldn't necessarily know that I carry this cane. They see that, and it smoothes over any doubt." She shakes her head. "No, Hope, hands can't outmatch guns. Not in this world, or the last."
Hope snorts. "Tell that to Snow. He never seems to learn."
"Out of all of the people from our old world, I probably understand that the most, other than Lightning." Fang can't help but smile. They are making their way through an impressive white hallway lit from the floor beneath them. All traces of shabby building façade are gone, and the pristine white underbelly of the government building is revealed at last. Hope mentally files Fang's security clearance access for them to get this far.
They stop at an elevator. Inside, there are no soldiers. Makes sense to Hope. He knows that their every movement is being watched, he can glance around the room and espy little cracks in the walls which he would guess would house little cameras, all fixated on him.
"She goes by Claire now." Hope says after they make their way inside the elevator, and Fang is pressing a floor button. She keeps her finger on the button for far longer than anyone would need to, and Hope can see a little red light pulsing beneath it. Probably fingerprint scanning technology.
Fang looks up at a black glass square above the column buttons. After a near inaudible click, she speaks up into it. "It's me, Freddie, let us up."
The screen seems to have a sort of movement behind it, and a tiny white light flashes in the middle.
A voice floats into the brushed steel chamber. "Who's the animal cargo?"
Fang addresses the black box once more. Must be the main camera. "Your future. Now, let us through. He's going to be your boss very soon. Might not want to make him angry. First impressions, you know."
There isn't anything more said after that, and Hope feels the sensation of traveling upward. The elevator must have been put into motion without a response from the voice.
"What do you mean, I'm going to be his boss very soon? Who's boss? What's going on?" Hope is wringing his hands again, the nervous habit he can't quite seem to toss coming back to him.
Fang turns to her friend, and levels with him. "We wanted to build a facility worthy of your potential, Hope. After all that you did for the human race back home, for Pulse, and for Cocoon. We know the technology here isn't what it used to be, but we didn't want you to have to want for what is available. We had this commissioned for you. After you get through your BT and the formalities are over with, this will be your new home."
With that ominous statement, the elevator doors part, and Hope turns to look out into the middle of a room on the top floor of the facility. "Wow." It's not Academia, not by a long shot, but it's definitely more than he could have ever hoped for, coming from working out of a shack in his backyard. "This is amazing."
His initial instincts proved him correct when they were standing outside. This place IS a top-secret government research facility, and inside he can see state-of-the-art everything right where it should be.
There are experiment sectors, and lab tables and computers and a full staff of white coats, all busy. There are things beeping and whirring coming from all corners, and the elevator that opened into the middle of the white room deposits him right in the thick of it all.
Fang sidles up to him. "Should I introduce you to your new team?"
Hope quickly scans the faces, while flashes of anothe time, another place slam into him at the same moment.
There were legions of people, all looking up to him. He had to be their answer, he had to be their key to salvation. He was building a new world, a place he could escape with the rest of humanity to wait for his rose-haired phantom. Somehow, he knew, if he could just safely make a bridge to get to her, everything would be alright. She was tasked as the savior, she could lead them all to a brighter day, all he had to do was get everyone through the chaos to await her.
But he failed.
He snaps back to the present, and the faces he was searching for aren't there. The environment looked so familiar, he felt so…right…being in the thick of a swarm of people. Names of people long dead on another world were at the tip of his tongue, and he almost spoke them to strange faces as they went scuttling by. He blinks, and his hand is outstretched toward a man in a lab coat walking away from him, and all he can see between the pauses of his fingers is a shadowy form being swallowed by the hive of activity.
"I had a team, once." Hope is saying. He surprises himself by how shaky his voice sounds. "I had a team." He blinks again, and turns to Fang. He sees icy blue depths in her eyes, and there is no judgment there. He swallows his fear and continues on. "I…I don't know these people. They aren't my team." His hand is shaking, and he looks at it in shock. "Hey, Fang, look at me, I'm fucking shaking like a little kid." Fang puts an arm around him, and holds him close with her good side. "Hey, thanks for this, it's great, but I don't have a team yet. Let's go somewhere. I can't. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it, Hope. It's a lot to take in. Let's get out of here." She punches the elevator with her cane, and Hope is mechanically walking through the doors to leave. He turns, gripping his traitor shaking hand with the other in a viselike hold. Just before the smooth doors whisper closed, he looks up, and for a moment, he sees an outline of an Oracle Drive placed in the center of the room, glowing green.
The exit out of the building is a much simpler process than getting inside, and they walk a few blocks before they can be picked up by another driver. This time, Fang dials an Uber driver service to get them where they need to be. Hope's grateful to Fang for taking care of the details, to help his head clear while speeding them away from the research site.
"Thanks for taking me there, really. It's more amazing than I could ever have hoped it to be." Hope is saying while they are in the backseat of a Lincoln Continental. It's only slightly cleaner than the taxi.
Fang makes an affirmative noise in her throat. "Hey, don't worry about it. I told you that I get it. It's a lot to take in. Just a last year, you weren't even sure that the memories you've had your whole life were even real. You've lived your entire life between two worlds, literally. It's alright to feel this way. There's no judgment here."
Hope nods, then realizes her words have brought upa thought.
"Speaking of judgment, I hope you know that none of us feel any toward you or Vanille." Might as well talk about what happened yesterday with Fang now. They've been dancing around the subject all afternoon, it's best to just address the topic and move on.
Fang looks out the window. "I kept telling her that. She wouldn't listen. Then or now."
Hope has always been curious about something, and he can't help but ask the question now. His inquisitive nature won't allow him to do otherwise. "Was it…different in Oerba? Could you two have been together without any sort of stigma like there is in this world? Or are the two cultures different on that point?"
"On what point, on the point of love?" Fang snorts. "Yes, hell yes they were. On Oerba, you know how communal we were. You saw the one building where we would all live together. There were no secrets. Everything was out in the open. You couldn't have a culture built on a system like that and have any sort of labeling or differentiation. There were no activities that took place in that town that everyone didn't know about that day. So yeah, the method of how we lived couldn't have any sort of discrimination or differing ideology. Our system couldn't support that. We either loved each other, accepted each other, and worked to make our lives a better place-or we died. It was Pulse we had to survive on, after all. Beautiful, but wild. Every life mattered-no matter who they loved." Fang grins at Hope. "It was just science. Be solid with each other. If you kill or steal or rape, you're cast out to fend for your own. That was it. Since we all ate and cooked and cleaned and worked side by side, all of us were a family. All of us took the surname 'Oerba.' Because that was our home."
Hope nods once. Her speech is just like her and her homeland-wild and beautiful. "That's what I've thought. Cocoon definitely was more judgmental-everyone lived in their little cubicles, on a floating world, where fear was rampant. Xenophobic to a fault, and mistrustful of everyone, that was the Cocoon way."
The Uber driver probably thought they were mad, with the way their conversation was going, but that didn't matter to the backseat passengers. Both sit in silence until they pull up to their destination, which happens to be Fang's house.
"I thought you should see where I hang my hat. It only seemed right, after talking about home. Come on in, Hope Estheim. Vanille should be waiting for us. I texted her that we were on our way." Fang is getting out of the car, surprisingly more agile than Hope would have expected with her messed up leg.
Hope gets out on the other side, already feeling better after leaving the research site. Before he is shutting the back door, he is laughing.
"I think I know which unit is yours. Or should I say, Vanille's." Hope nods up toward the 15th floor, where there are pink curtains hanging in the windows. It is the only unit like that on the street-facing side of the building.
Fang chuckles. "Lucky guess, bloke. Lucky guess." Thy make their way into the lobby, which is plain and nondescript. Once again, they are in an elevator, but the scene is much more different. The lab coats and smells of the facility are quickly becoming replaced by a more relaxed, modern-day environment that Hope is finding himself in, and he can begin to process once again.
"Feeling better?" Fang says to break the quiet in the elevator. Her back is turned to him.
Hope is grateful that she allows him to save face. "Yes, thank you." He cradles his stomach with one arm, the nausea almost wiped away. For a moment there, back in the facility, he had felt a strange sense of déjà vu, except that it wasn't passing strange. He felt as if everything were so cyclical, and he felt a desperate need to break free of what had happened before. He felt like he could never escape the feeling that he would always be a scientist, and always fighting phantoms and gods that were beyond his understanding. He wanted to be free of a life of service, free of being a pawn to things that were beyond his imagining. Hadn't he earned a life of being simple?
The next thing that he knows, Vanille is crashing into him with a huge hug, for the second time that week.
"My sweet friend!" Her leg is crooked behind her, toes pointed daintily in the air as she grabs him around the shoulders. "Thank you for finally talking some sense into me." She cups his silvery locks with one hand as she whispers loudly into his ear. Her loud whisper is pitched on purpose so that Fang can hear, and Fang laughs to acknowledge that she hears Vanille.
"You helped me save myself in the beginning." Hope pulls back, and holds his friend at arm's length away from him, so he can study her face. "You helped me survive when I wasn't thinking clearly. This is just doing an old friend a favor. I know you, Vanille. This just makes sense." She giggles and bows her head.
"Won't you come in?" She gestures toward her and Fang's home, and Hope walks through the threshold first, Fang trailing behind him.
The apartment is small, typical of a New York area flat. The space is sparse, but cluttered with various knick knacks.
Hope quickly surveys the space. "This décor doesn't speak strongly of you, Fang." He can't help but be wry, and gives Fang a look out of the corner of his eye. "I don't feel as if you had a large part of decoration decisions."
"I'm not big into decorations. There weren't very many on Pulse, either. Simple and practical, that was the way of Oerba. I know nothing different." Fang folds her arms over her chest, waiting by the coffeepot. They offered Hope coffee within a few steps of the apartment, and Hope had gladly acceped the caffeine.
"I like being different. It's not disrespectful to my home if I choose to do something different with my space. Everyone lived in one communal area, so there wasn't a huge emphasis on individuality. I like having my own space here. It's so…so cloistered. I can make this place a space of meditation and comfort. It's…ours." The look she shares with Fang here as Fang pours coffee is so important. Hope feels the emotion, and it sends a jolt of encouragement through him. If Fang and Vanille can work through their differences, their past, and the way that the world judges them, then maybe there's hope for his situation. Besides, their strong bond pulled them through a lot of the tough times back when they fought for the safety of their world. Fang and Vanille's love for each other pulled the weight of the world.
A little while later, while sipping coffee from a pink mug with a heart handle, Hope gets thoughtful. "I did have a crush on you at one point, Vanille."
"Oh, my." Her hand flies up to her mouth, and she giggles. "That's…um...quite awkward." Fang just laughs, confident in herself and her relationship.
"Yeah, I was very young and very naïve." Hope chuckles, then blows on the surface of his coffee. "I thought that your friendly way meant that you were flirting with me."
"Well, I…I don't know what to say." Vanille is perched next to Fang, and she leans into her lover, her hand resting on Fang's knee. Fang leans back, legs spread, coffee mug warm and steaming in one hand.
"I thought that anyone who cared about me, who tried to help me, meant that they liked me. You know, in a relationship sense. You're cute. You didn't tell me about Fang until later. You kept her a secret, from all of us. To protect her. It wasn't until later we realized what you were really all about."
"Everyone had their own particular reasons." Vanille sniffs. "We all had reasons why we were doing things. It just so turns out, we had our own individual reasons to save the world." Vanille straightens, sitting up on the cushions. "Fang and I had each other. You were trying to get your mom back. Snow and Lightning had Serah to rescue, and Sazh had Dajh." She ticks off the six of them on her fingers as she speaks.
"I was a kid. I thought you were, too." Hope pauses, and here Vanille interjects.
"I was! Well, sort of. I had been sleeping for hundreds of years. It was hard."
Hope nods. "I can sympathize with that. Sleeping for a long time, then waking up as a child, when you know you are much, much older." With his statement, the room pauses, sinking in Hope's words. "I thought you and I were the young ones. The innocents. Your bravery helped pull me through, in the beginning. Before I had something to fight for."
"I think you mean, someone." This is Fang speaking up now. She dips her chin to look across the living room at Hope. "You know what Vanille and I feel for each other. Now's your turn to be real with yourself. You were fighting for two people, at the end. Three, if you count your own soul."
"My mother, yes." Hope feels an odd sense of relief and pain when he thinks of Nora. Pain, because he has lived so long with knowing that she died-and relief, because he had the chance of re-uniting with her on this world. The two feelings overlap in this place and time. "Myself, yes." He looks up, viewing his friend seated across from him through his shaggy bangs. "Claire, yes."
"I knew it." Fang sits up, shaking her head and slamming her coffee on the low table between them. "I knew it."
Vanille cocks her head, a wistful gaze in her eyes. "You definitely seem to fall for the women with pink hair, don't you?"
Hope laughs. "We all look for something different in a significant other. You two, for example. You are the farthest extremes of femininity that I know. So different, but your conviction and dedication are equally matched."
"What about Lightning?" Fang asks. Hope quickly glances at Vanille, who ever-so-slightly shakes her head. She hasn't told Fang yet about their conversation yesterday.
"What about her?" Hope queries, calling Fang's bluff. If she's going to make assumptions, he wants to hear what she has to say. He leans back, crossing a leg over a knee.
Fang doesn't fall for the bait. She cocks an eyebrow. "You know what I mean. And it falls in line with your theory. Neatly summed: Opposites attract. It explains me and Vanille." She pauses here for intentional dramatic effect, and reaches across the table to blow on her coffee mug. Without looking at Hope, she cools her coffee, acting nonchalant and at ease. "'Splains you and Lightning."
Hope smiles, proud in a weird way that Fang was too smart, and too old, too fall for the fake innocence. "It's that obvious, huh?"
"About as obvious as how Vanille and I felt about each other to anyone who listened with their heart." She drapes one arm casually across the back of the couch, lazily brushing Vanille's opposite elbow. Vanille just smiles on one side of her mouth, hands clasped in her lap.
"It was weird at first. I was just a kid. She helped me grow up. She was a mother figure when I needed one."
"Both of you are too old for that now. Your mother is back. How are your feelings toward Lightning now that you have your mother back in your life, and now that you've been around for centuries?" Fang sounds prodding to a neutral ear, but to Hope, he understands that she is just trying to get a read on her friend, and his sanity. He appreciates her genuine concern.
The question is a valid one, and very important. "I…I…" He's never before voiced exactly how he feels, even with Vanille earlier yesterday. She sort of filled in the blanks on her own without him having to say much. He spreads his hands in a hopeless gesture.
Fang explains. "I like Light, I understand her. If you care for her just for sentimental reasons, it's not going to be enough. In this one way, you have the advantage over her. She needs someone who cares about her for who she is, not who she was. She doesn't need a love born of gratitude. She needs something more than a boy who is clinging on to a safety net that he outgrew long ago."
The words are harsh, but Hope knows that they aren't meant that way. Vanille shoots her a dirty look, and playfully slaps Fang on the knee, but Fang ignores her mate. Her gaze is deadlocked onto Hope, searching for the truth in his every movement.
"I need her." The words slip out, and it gets quiet as the two women across from Hope wait for him to continue. He's breathing hard for some reason. "I need her." Hope finds himself at a loss for words. It's like he's a boy again, struggling to talk to Snow. Except this time, he's struggling to confess his feelings toward his friends. His ragged panting sounds so much like the breathing of a frightened teenage boy.
Fang assesses her friend soundly. "Fair enough." She leaves it at that, after nodding once. Visibly relaxing, she eases back, stroking the cane propped up next to her. "Just be good to her, alright? This is a battle she can't win. In this one way, like I said, you have all the cards in your deck."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hope is confused. There's no way Claire is anything but capable in any situation. Fang is painting this out to look like she's some sort of helpless waif, when he knows the ex-soldier is anything but.
Fang turns back to Hope, her blue eyes now soft instead of searching. "Just this: She is inexperienced with emotion toward anyone not in her family. She is a woman who can't let go of people she loves very well. You are going to make your intentions clear, when she's not yet ready to face them, even after all this time. Even knowing how she feels inside, and understanding it. She's not ready to come forward into the light with what she wants. You're going to have to show her it's okay."
"That's a task I'm more than ready and willing to handle." Hope smashes a hand in his fist. "It's something I will spend the rest of my life doing, if I need to."
The knowing, sad smile in Fang's face says it all, but she speaks unnecessarily the thought that's in her head aloud. "Good, because you're going to have to do exactly, just that."