Fic: Do I Dare Disturb the Universe? Snow/Lighting 3/?
Title: Do I Dare Disturb the Universe?
Author: frkmgnt1
Rating: PG-13 or T (Pick your poison.)
Pairing: Snow/Lightning, Snow/Serah
Chapter 3: How Shall I Begin?
Word Count ~6,900 words, ~18,400
Description: Snow has something he needs to say. Lightning cannot hear it.
Genre: Angst angst and more angst. Romance (Oh my god! I wrote Romance. WTF?)
Notes: This started life as a one shot, and perhaps should have stayed that way. But the characters nagged me to continue the story and SOMEONE challenged me to write a story without a doomed Snow/Lightning pairing. That's not easy to do and I'm not sure I'll pull it off. But I'm sure as hell going to try it!
I will say that this is not the same universe as my story Evolution, but the relationship between Snow and Lightning in Evolution did inspire this little ditty. So, I guess it's an AU of my AU. (And I usually hate those a lot, but bear with me.)
“Beyond the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea, And the East and West the wander-thirst that will not let me be.”
-Gerald Gould
How Should I Begin...?
"Brilliant, Lightning. Just brilliant." The trip to Taejin's Tower is easy going despite the raging blizzard. Lightning moves with efficiency through the fine, powdery snow. She reaches the small port they built to house the gondola lifts they fashioned from the old elevator system to ascend the steep cliff faces.
And to reach the top of Taejin's tower.
She enters and closes the doors, takes a moment to breathe warmer air. The gondola lifts are in good shape. She checks the ropes and cabling at the bullwheel in the station; checks the gears. She knows all the ins and outs of this machine since she, Sazh and Bartholomew Estheim designed it together. Their main goal was to design a transport system using pulleys, levers and physics to substitute electric power. The rationale behind designing such a system was to conserve the precious resources and fuel they still had in order to use it to construct a means to generate power.
The result of this idea is a hand cranked gondola system that uses counter weights, pulleys, levers and good old fashioned 'elbow grease' to ascend the mountain and reach the top of the tower. Lightning thought the design of the system both elegant and ingenious in its simplicity and was proud to be part of both the design and construction.
The majority of Cocoon citizens, however, were not used to doing much of anything for themselves. Too long had they lived as kept pets in a fal'Cie zoo to embrace any sort of manual labor. Many found the idea of hunting and gathering for food barbaric and beneath them. Agriculture was a foreign concept and garnered looks of incredulity and distaste. And the idea of hand pumps and pulley systems instead of electric pumps and elevators frustrated most of them. The hard work and rough lifestyle turned most of them off to moving away from the center of the growing civilization, which was the reason for the very small population of people in their oceanfront community.
Lightning, on the other hand, embraces hard work. She lives for it! She enters the gondola lift and closes the door, thrilled for the both the reprieve from the weather and a dry place to rest. She sits for a moment, takes the opportunity to catch her breath and nibble some dried meat. The small bite of food hits her stomach like a bomb and makes her queasy. She scowls at the remnants of her meal before rewrapping it and replacing it in her pack. She withdraws a canteen and takes a few small sips of water. The water is frigid and Lightning puts it away before her thirst is quenched to avoid lowering her core body temperature too much. She takes a deep breath...
She's ready now.
She pulls the lever to open the terminal door, packs everything away and grabs onto the handle on the wheel with both hands. She pushes and pulls on the handle, feels muscles in her body pull and flex. Her hand aches more with each motion. The gears are frozen, the cable icy and the work is hard and tedious. The high winds rock the car back and forth on the line and make moving the car upwards and forward even more difficult. Lightning feels sweat on her brow pour into her eyes; more drips from her face into her collar. She knows that her many layers of clothing will be wet from the inside out by the time she reaches the apex of the tower. She continues working, feels the burn in her thighs, in her abdominal muscles. Feels the ache in her bad shoulder that will turn to cramps and spasms by later tonight.
She stops the car once on the way up, hits the brake and takes a moment to catch her breath. The wind rocks the car in near one hundred fifty degree arcs on the line and Lightning slams into the walls like a pinball in a machine for a moment before getting her balance again and continuing the ascent.
It takes her better than a half hour to make it to the top and by the time she summits and coasts into the terminal, she's aching, panting, and swooning with exhaustion. Straightening up makes every muscle in her back spasm and lock and the cold only exacerbates the problem. Her injured hand is swollen and throbbing and spectacularly purple. She presses at the fractured bone, feels the sharp edge where it's moved again and she curses.
She presses against it until she screeches, until the bone feels straight. She chews her chapped lower lip bloody as she tapes up her injured hand again over the original dressing. She dry swallows a painkiller, feels a wave of nausea so strong it knocks her on her ass. She sits, puts her head between her legs and waits for the pain and sickness and ringing to pass.
Wait...Ringing?
The sound draws her out of her misery. She looks at her pack and realizes that the ringing is coming from inside it.
From her communicator.
"Damn it." She roots around in her bag until she comes up with the communicator, looks at the display.
Snow.
"Damn it," she repeats. She considers answering the call for about two seconds, decides that her pain is making her weak. She puts the communicator away unanswered.
She feels better all around. She exits the terminal, at the top of Taejin's Tower. She's looking forward to using the Tower's strange elevator system after that workout. It'll be nice to take it easy for a bit before she has to start trudging again. She walks to the first elevator and hears an unholy racket from below. What the...? She walks to the center of the tower and looks down, finds the reason for her easy, uninterrupted journey inside.
Every animal and monster for miles has sought shelter from the storm within the tower.
"You have got to be kidding me," she says to no one. Or maybe she's just talking to fate and that miserable bitch Etro. Damn Maker and her stupid fal'Cie. This is all her fault. Lightning's positive that it must be her fault. Everything else that sucks in Lightning's life is the Maker's fault, so why should this be different? She stares into the meat grinder below and considers her chances for survival.
"No way." She walks to the east side of the tower and looks down to see what awaits her at the front entrance. She's almost afraid to look. If there are too many creatures milling around at the entrance she's going to have to turn back. She stares into the whipping wind toward the base of the tower and is pleasantly surprised to see that there's a whole lot of nothing waiting for her down there.
"That's because the animals are smarter than you are Lightning," she grumbles to herself. She considers her options. Through the throng, or over the side. "Both options suck, as per usual."
Still, there's no animals down there.
She heaves an enormous sigh that is visible in the frigid air.
"Okay then." So much for the easy way. She digs out her climbing gear: her hooks and anchors, rappel device and ropes. She chooses the longest rope she has, hopes it's long enough. She's just not confident enough in her finger strength or dexterity to do this mess with two ropes. She steps into her harness, checks the clips. She gets out her climbing gloves, realizes that she's not going to be able to get them on with her makeshift splint. She looks at the gloves and makes a decision.
She pulls out her knife and slits the inner seams of the ring finger and pinky of the right glove; she'll stitch it up again later. She can't afford to screw up her hand anymore by climbing without support on the break. She pulls on the fingerless gloves, knows that the cold is going to be a problem. She's going to have to do this very fast if she doesn't want frostbite on her fingertips.
She anchors her rope, ties the ends together, throws the tied ends off the side of the tower and prays it will make it to the bottom. When she sees it pool below she exhales a relieved breath. She sets her pack on her back again, hears more ringing inside it and swears aloud. She listens to the communicator ring once...twice...
Ah, what the hell?
She knows she shouldn't answer it. No good will come of it. Still, she slips off the pack and withdraws the communicator, hits the button to connect already knowing who will be on the line.
"Yeah," she answers. She must be a masochist.
"You left." Obviously.
"What do you want?" Stay cold. She shivers once in the biting wind. It should be easy.
"You left," he repeats. "Why did you leave?"
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask me that question." Dumbass!
"Yeah, I know. It's just..." he pauses. "It's just...you left and you didn't say anything." He sounds angry, and she feels her temper flare to match it. It feels good! "How could you just…leave?" His voice breaks on the last word and the anger fades into something that sounds more like hurt. That's not something she can take. She doesn't want to hurt him. She shouldn't matter enough to hurt him. It's not her right.
"I need a change." Why is she explaining herself to him?
"Look, Lightning…" his voice is small and so un-Snow that she can't listen to it anymore.
"It's none of your business, what I do," she's being cruel and she hates it. She hates him for making her be mean to him. "What do you want? Why are you calling me?"
"I…I was concerned." And that just sucks; it hits her like a gut shot. "I...I came to your house this morning. To apologize and...and to check. To make sure you were... you know with your hand and everything. And ..you were gone." Like hell he came to apologize and if she had any doubts about her decision, they are gone now. She doubts she would have been able to withstand another relentless assault ala 3:30 am. Her defenses are shredded and she's too exhausted to hold the offensive. She decides to show mercy now.
"You don't have to apologize, okay?" It's not his fault. Not really. "We're good. What's done is done."
"But…"
"But nothing. Don't call me again." Pause. She can almost feel his pain. She closes her eyes and centers herself. She shouldn't have answered the call. If she weren't so terrified of plummeting to her death and no one knowing what happened to her, she never would have.
"Where are you?"
"None of your business." She cannot relent.
"I know." He surprises her with that one. She wasn't expecting agreement. "But can't you tell me anyway? Please? I want…" If he says it, I'm hanging up on him. "I want to know you're safe. That's not too much to ask, right? I mean…I thought we... I thought we were friends at least."
She closes her eyes and sits down on the floor. Her legs won't hold her up anymore right now. "We were," she tells him.
"Were?" His voice wobbles in a sickening way. Crap. She didn't mean it like that. "I destroyed everything? I'm sorry."
"Alright." She closes her eyes. Friends? It's ridiculous that he should be so upset over the idea of them not being friends. It's ridiculous that she should find it heartbreaking. "We are. Okay? We are friends."
"So won't you just tell me?"
"Snow..."
"Come on, Light. As your friend." She heaves a sigh. She shouldn't. She knows she shouldn't tell him. It isn't going to make him feel better. He's just going to worry. He may even tell her sister, which will worry her too.
"I'm…" she should not do this. "In Taejin's Tower." She's an idiot.
"What?" He bellows at her. "Are you nuts? You know how dangerous that is! What could you possibly be thinking about?"
"I can take care of myself," she says and feels her anger coming back. It's enough to get her back onto her feet again. "And anyway, it's none of your business. Not as my friend, or as my anything. Do you get it?" There's nothing but silence. "We already had this conversation." She waits for his counterargument.
"Just…be careful. Alright?" She's almost disappointed that he relented. Almost.
"Yeah, I will be," she promises. "And Snow?"
"Yeah Light?" Why does he have to sound hopeful?
"Don't call me again." She hates him for making her hurt him. Why can't he just leave her alone?
Why did you answer the call?
"I…I just…I need to know you're alright. Will you check in with me?"
"No."
"Lightning. Please?" She hates him for hurting her.
"I'll…check in with Serah." This is not conciliatory. She always planned to check in with her sister. "And I'm going to ask Sazh to meet me on the eastern border of the Archylte Steppe."
"The eastern border? You're going to travel across the Steppe by yourself? " Does he have to sound like that?
"I've been taking care of myself for a long time Snow. I'll be fine." She will be.
"I'm coming with you!" He declares. She knew he was thinking it, but she didn't think he would dare say it out loud.
"No you're not." He exhausts her "You're staying home with my sister where you belong."
"Lightning..."
"It's none of your business Snow. I am NONE of your business. Get that through your head. Don't call me again or I'll dump the communicator." She disconnects the call, presses the communicator against her forehead, closes her eyes and just breathes.
She should not have answered the call. It was foolish. It was self destructive. It was cruel. Once upon a time she didn't mind being cruel to him. Now it makes her sick.
She curses the part of her that wanted to speak to him. She loathes the piece of her that needed to hear his voice one more time.
In case she dies.
She's pathetic!
She shakes thoughts of Snow and her weakness out of her head and focuses on the task at hand. She checks her clips again, sets her rappel device, climbs onto the parapet of the tower, puts her back to the open air and sits in her harness.
The first drop is always terrifying. She can check her knots and ropes forty times; until she sits back into her harness, she has no idea whether she's done a good job. Lightning isn't used to such an archaic means of descending great heights. She always had her anti-gravity field generator to break her fall. She just leapt from wherever, snapped her fingers and she was safe. It was faster and far more efficient than ropes and hooks and clamps; and if by some off chance the device failed, there wouldn't even be enough time for her life to flash before her eyes before she impacted and died.
That was then. Now she has to rappel down the side of a two hundred plus foot tower.
She starts slowly, moving inch by painful inch. Her body screams at her for this fresh abuse. She ignores it. She needs to get down the side of the tower before the wind shifts. Right now, she's lucky enough that the tower shields her from the majority of the wind, but there's no telling how long that will last. She needs to move faster, reach the bottom and get her mittens back on before her fingers turn purple.
She lets instinct take over-it's never failed her before-and rappels in large leaps. Each strike of the balls of her feet against the tower rattles through her already sore body. Her toes all hurt like someone stomped them. She's concerned that the pain might be an early symptom of frostbite, but can't worry about it for now as there's nothing she can do. She kicks off, slides down and lands. Again. In the middle of her next rappel, she feels the wind shift, blow ice like razor blades into her face and destroy her trajectory. She twists and smacks the wall hard, takes the impact on her bad right shoulder. She opens her mouth to scream, finds that she doesn't have the air for it. Her grip on the brake in her hand loosens and she slips down the rope unchecked-the speed of gravity minus some measly friction-panics and thrashes for a long few seconds before sense reasserts itself. She clenches her fist, stops hard enough to make every joint in her body pop. She pants and coughs, twists to get her feet between her body and the wall again.
Suck it up!
She looks down, sees the ground just a few stories below. One more good leap. Two tops. She grits her teeth, ignores the pain in her body and tears in her eyes, and keeps moving until she's buried to her shins in snow and ice.
She lays her forehead against the side of the tower for a moment, relieved to be alive. Her communicator rings again inside her bag and she swears aloud at it and the person who is undoubtedly calling her. She regrets taking the stupid thing with her in the first place.
She refuses to even look at the screen.
She disengages her rappel device, packs away her gloves, belt and clips. She flexes her fingers, feels the stiffness in the skin, the pain in the joints, and is alarmed at the livid color of her hands. She blows hot breath on and into them, chafes them together and winces at the pain. She moves swiftly to untie the knotted ends of the rope and pulls until the rope comes free. She pulls out her mittens, slips them onto her damaged hands, coils up her rope and moves onward.
Lightning trudges onward through the mounting snow and despairs of ever reaching Mah'Habara. It's been four hours since she left Taejin's Tower and she hasn't even reached the Sulyya Springs. The temperature seems to drop with each step forward and Lightning wonders at the odds of her freezing to death before she reaches the relative safety of the caves.
She wonders if Snow's dumbass-ery has somehow rubbed off on her.
"Some survival instinct," she grumbles, but the words get lost in the whipping wind. "Remind me again," she says to herself, "why you thought this was such a good idea." She takes a step and sinks up to her shins in the heavy wet snow. "Oh, that's right," she continues, panting from the exertion of moving. "It's because" she takes a breath that burns her lungs, "you're absurd."
"And to top it off..." she exhales and coughs, "you're talking to yourself."
What is wrong with her?
She can feel the cold seeping through the heavy boots, but can no longer feel her toes. This journey is taking twice as long as it should. As she finally reaches the cliffs around the spring, the wind increases to an alarming, painful and possibly deadly velocity.
Rather than offering protection, the cliff walls act like a wind tunnel, collecting the wind and funneling it down the pathway and right into her face. Once she gets into the canyon, the wind is so cold and strong that it actually drives her backwards a few steps for every ten or so she makes. The icy wind feels like it is freezing her eyeballs in her head and she wishes that she'd thought to pack goggles. Then she realizes that she doesn't own goggles, and decides that she's an idiot for not having them in a place where the weather is this brutal. This sort of cold can blind her; at the very least it will chap and windburn her skin. Cold desiccates skin, as does wind, and out here she has copious amounts of both. All exposed flesh will be at risk for splitting and cracking by the time she reaches Mah'Habara.
And if she doesn't reach shelter soon, her extremities will be at risk for severe frostbite and possible gangrene.
Wonderful.
Lightning pulls her scarf up to cover her nose, breathes through her mouth hard into the heavy wool, feels the heat and moisture of her breath spread over her face. Her cheeks sting with cold and the moisture from her breath is adding to the chapping, but the brief warmth is worth it. It doesn't last long and she still feels pretty awful. Her mind is getting slow and muddled. She steps, stumbles and nearly topples into the snow. She shakes her head to clear the fog from her thoughts, rolls her head on her shoulders. She feels loose limbed and uncoordinated. There's a near overwhelming desire to just sit down and regain her strength. Part of her screams about survival, about the danger of falling asleep while exposed, but she finds the concern vague at best. She stops moving forward, stares at the blanket of snow with as much longing as she'd felt for the warmth of her bed earlier.
Her training is whispering about hypothermia. If she is hypothermic and she doesn't get into shelter, she's going to succumb and die. No one is coming looking for her anytime soon. If she stops moving, she's going to become food for the animals, or a frozen popsicle. She squints her eyes as much as possible to shield against the elements, puts her head down to protect her face from the high wind and moves.
It takes a miserable eternity to reach the Sulyya Spring. It's unrecognizable and it takes a moment for her to even get her bearings.. The flowers that were here when they'd last walked through are now buried beneath a layer of snow and ice so thick she doubts it will ever melt. The water is coated in white, spots of ice floating on the liquid waters. She'd been hoping this little oasis would be somehow immune to the winter weather and be the same as it was when she was here last with Fang, Vanille, Sazh, Hope and Snow. It seemed so unchangeable, beautiful and terrible then. She feels tears pool and chill where they touch the skin of her eyelids. She leaves them rather than risking wiping ice and snow on her already freezing cold skin.
She wonders if Bismarck met the same end as most of the other fal'Cie. She feels regret for a moment before snapping the hell out of it.
Have you lost it? She is ridiculous and absurd. Who the hell gets weepy and nostalgic over a forced journey that nearly killed them and destroyed all of humanity? Who mourns a fal'Cie that tried to kill them?
"Get a grip, Lightning," she whispers. Nostalgia is for wimps. Nostalgia for the worst time of one's life is for morons.
She fills a canteen at the spring, thankful that the water has not yet frozen over as this will be the last fresh water she will encounter until she clears Mah'Habara. She flinches when the icy water touches her already frozen skin. She needs to go now. She makes a hard push for the mouth of the cavern, hard enough to reach it in moments. She hides from the brutal weather in the shelter of the cavern. She makes her way into the cave and collapses onto the floor with a huff. She feels her eyelids droop, shakes her head hard to snap herself out of it.
She gets back to her feet, decides moving is necessary until she warms up a bit. She reaches into her pack and withdraws her communicator, sends Hope and Serah a message letting them know that she's gone away for a bit. She tells them she will be out of touch. She assures them of her safety (though her sanity might be at issue here) and promises to message them again when she reaches her destination.
She does not say where she is going. Hope will know soon enough, and Serah doesn't need to know that 'a bit' means 'forever.' She would like to wait until she is on the far side of Mah'Habara before telling Serah anything about her departure, but now that she spoke to Snow, that option is gone. Besides the journey through the cavern can take as much as two days and she will not be able to send or receive messages once inside. She may be a bitch, but she's not that much of a bitch. Serah calls her every day and if Lightning doesn't respond, Serah will worry. Then she'll find that Lightning left without a word and she'll cry. And Lightning hates it when her sister cries.
She hates the idea of hurting her sister. She peers into the blizzard, back towards their home.
No! She's doing the right thing here. Leaving Serah now will be like ripping off a band aid. It'll hurt, but it'll be brief. Serah will have a whole life to heal. If Lightning stays, Serah's pain will be persistent and protracted.
The communicator starts ringing in her hand and she stares at the display: Serah. She sighs, unsurprised by the fact that her sister is calling. She considers answering before discarding the idea as stupid. Serah will know something is wrong as soon Lightning speaks to her. She'll hear the exhaustion and anger in her voice. She'll worry that something serious is wrong; that something terrible has happened. Then she'll tell Snow (seeing as how she lives with him and everything) and Lightning doesn't even want to hypothesize what that big idiot might do. He might open his big stupid mouth in a temper and blow all their lives to hell. She presses on the power button until the screen goes blank and the device shuts off.
"Sorry Serah," she whispers to no one. She hates upsetting her sister, but she can't live a false life anymore. Staying in that hovel in that seaside town is killing her by inches. She'd rather go back out into the blizzard and die to be honest.
She moves further into the caverns. Mah'Habara is so warm compared to outside that Lightning almost kisses the goddamn stone walls. She shucks her hat and scarf and fur poncho and stuffs them into her pack. She'll keep the mittens for now since she can barely feel her fingers through the material as it is. She pulls her weapon, checks it to make sure the ice hasn't accumulated in any of the moving parts before holstering it again.
She needs to dry off and warm up. Her entire body is aching from the long hours of abuse. She needs to sit down for a few minutes, catch her breath and rest. She hadn't planned any such thing until she made her way well into Mah'Habara.
She hadn't planned any of this, to be honest.
"You're getting soft," she tells herself. Her entire body screams back at her in a crescendo of aching pain.
Lightning leans against the stone and slides to the ground. She is wearier than she'd like. Her right shoulder and arm are throbbing in time with her racing heartbeat, but she thinks she's warmed enough now to say with some certainty that she hasn't broken or dislocated anything. She'll probably be bruised from shoulder to hip, but that's manageable pain and won't cause lasting damage if it isn't corrected.
Her feet are aching and burning inside her boots and she knows she needs to check the damage. She pulls off her mittens with her teeth, sees that the swelling around her injury has gone down with the cold, but all her fingers are now plump and cherry red. They throb and burn so hot that she is tempted to go stick them into the snow to cool them down. She resists the stupid urge, knows the burning is from the frostbite. She moves them until they work well enough to unlace her boots.
She's dismayed to find that her socks are damp. She will need to do something to ensure her feet stay drier. She's just begun this trek, and she has miles and miles to travel. She pulls off the damp socks and finds that her feet match her fingers very well.
Definite frostbite. She hopes it is only mild. She doesn't think there'll be permanent damage, though she fears she may end up with some blisters. Those will be very bad on her feet since she's only just started her journey. She withdraws another pair of socks from her pack and slips them on. She pulls out a potion, takes a small amount and feels warmth spread through her. She could do with a fire and a bit of rest.
After all, someone ruined her night's sleep.
/"Can I come in?"/
Jerk!
She shakes her head hard. She reaches into her bag for her communicator again. She needs to let Sazh know she's on the way. She knows from his messages that his adventures sometimes take him away from the settlement for weeks at a time. Now that she's put a bit of distance between her and...yeah, anyway, she realizes that she should have contacted him already.
She digs, snags the bag on her finger withdraws it and a black ball of cloth falls into her lap. She eyes the bandana like an enemy, hooks the knot with her bandaged fingers and lifts it to eye level. She knows she should not have taken this token with her. It is a shameful sign of weakness and she is disgusted with herself.
Even in her shame, she still finds herself touching the golden hairs trapped in the knotted material. She pinches one between the pads of her thumb and bound ring finger, rubs the fingers together over the hair as if it were a butterfly wing.
You're pathetic.
She drops the bandana back into her pack, hopes that a bit of sleep will restore some of her strength to her-enough strength to allow her to leave the bandana behind along with the rest of him.
She puts her weakness and stupidity aside and pulls out the communicator. She turns it on, sees the message indicator flashing. Probably Serah. She can't hear her sister's voice right now. It might break her resolve to keep moving forward and start over. She ignores the message and calls Sazh's communicator. It goes right to the voice mail system and she disconnects rather than leave a message. She has no idea what the hell to say to him anyway. "Hi, I'm on my way," will have him calling her sister faster than she can say Archylte Steppe. It'll be better to wait until she's had a few days of walking to unwind; she'll call again when she reaches the other side of Mah'Habara. .
By the time she puts the communicator away, she finds her eyelids drooping. She skips the fire, despite her yearnings. It might draw enemies, she reasons, though she knows she's only making excuses for her laziness. She sighs and settles for lacing up her boots again, pulling on her gloves, wrapping herself in a blanket, curling on the floor and slipping into an exhausted sleep.
She stands in her living room, feet dirty and cold from the concrete floor. She hears the lock on the front door click in release. She closes her eyes and holds her breath.
Three large steps, a hand on her arm whipping her around, fingers in her hair and he says, "just once," before he swoops down and scalds her with his mouth. "Once Light," he breathes against her mouth. The tip of his tongue traces her bottom lip. He whispers, "I promise," before diving back in.
She's insane to risk her whole life for one stolen night. Snow groans into her mouth and all she can think about is stealing one night.
Snow's left hand snakes down her side, fingers skimming between her pajama top and shorts. She shivers at the sensation as his fingertips trace her hipbone from front to back. Fingertips turn to a whole palm cupping the flare of her hip, thumb rubbing in teasing strokes just beneath the waist band of her shorts before he slides his hand around to rest in the curve of her lower back. He licks gently into her mouth as the fingers of his left hand dip beneath the waistband of her shorts to settle dangerously low. She moans, wraps her arms around his neck and her lips around his tongue. She feels his growl vibrate through her whole body as he drags her toward him, presses her against him with the hand on her lower back. She's up on her toes before she realizes that her feet have left the ground. He walks until she feels the wall pressed against her back and the whole, hard heated length of him along her body. Every inch of her tingles and burns. Her muscles are all clenching and relaxing to the rhythm of his tongue moving in her mouth, toes curling and uncurling, brushing the floor with each movement. He clenches the fingers in her hair and pulls downward and his mouth leaves hers. Her lips burn and throb in time with her racing heart. Snow's mouth finds her pulse point, latches on and sucks so deliciously that she feels it in every molecule of her.
She gasps and he moans against her, insinuates a muscled thigh between her legs and rocks into her. She's pinned to the wall, feet brushing the floor with each small rock of his hips, electricity firing along all her nerve endings with each rhythmic pulse. His hands slide over her body, under her pajamas, lighting every nerve ending aflame in their wake. Fingers brushing the sides of her breasts: teasing, tickling. She claws at his back, slides fingers up into his long hair and jerks his mouth back up to hers with a hard tug. He hisses and seals his mouth over hers. There's no more subtlety left as he presses his tongue into her mouth and licks every spot inside it. She tangles her tongue with his, slides it underneath, tastes to smooth skin and muscle and sighs. He moans and it vibrates through her mouth and resounds through her whole body. He thrusts against her, cups her breasts in his hands and rubs the calloused pads of his thumbs over her nipples. She's so hot she's sure she must be on fire. She writhes against him.
He releases her mouth, backs off and breathes scorching breath over her aching lips. She leans forward to taste him again but he holds himself away and she opens her eyes. His eyes are black with lust, only the thinnest trace of blue rings the dilated pupils. "I love you."
"Shut up," she says and he rubs against her just right, makes her eyes roll back and her breath catch. He licks her open mouth once, slides his wet-wet mouth over her jawbone.
"I need you," he whispers into her ear, and flicks the lobe with his tongue, latches his scalding mouth onto her neck and moves against her again. She feels his teeth pressing into the skin on her neck, just the pleasure side of pain, before the pressure is gone and his tongue traces the outline. He rocks into her again and whispers, "I want you."
"You have me." It's the only consolation she'll offer. Just once, she reminds herself. She can have him just once. She needs him. She'd sell her soul for just once right now! Maybe the once will purge this demon from their souls; scratch the itch and sate the hunger. His mouth devours her again and she clutches fistfuls of his coat in her hands, hops up and wraps her legs around him, locking them together around his hips and grinds against him.
He groans into her mouth and thrusts against her. She feels every last inch of him through his clothes, hard all over and harder still between her legs, through several layers of cloth. He presses against her again and lets her feel his need, ratcheting up her own skyrocketing desire. It's not enough. She needs more. Her fingers prod and grope, work under his coat and under his shirt to get a feel heated skin. He's wearing too many layers and she's still pinned. She shimmies and growls. He drops his hands under her thighs and backs away from the wall and staggers towards her bedroom. He pulls away from her mouth, presumably so he can see where he is going. She pants into his ear, bends to latch onto a spot on his neck before reminding herself that she cannot mark him. He is not hers.
He is her sister's.
Horror pulls her from her dream, has her upright before she decides to move. The quick action sparks a wave of vertigo that has her closing her eyes again and almost topples her face first onto the floor. The dream flashes behind her eyelids and she snaps them open again, stunned at her brain's audacity and treachery. Her heart pounds hard in her chest and throat from the cocktail of anger, fear and arousal swirling inside her.
"What the hell was that about? " she asks the empty cavern. Her voice echoes and she winces, waits to see if her impromptu exclamation will draw enemies to her.
She hates Snow…absolutely hates him for making her want him; for making her dream about him. He never should have touched her. She should have broken his goddamn hand for daring to touch her! If he hadn't showed up at her house last night, she would have continued on with her life in blissful ignorance of his feelings for her. She would have gotten over the disturbing feelings rolling around inside her-she knows she would have.
She wouldn't be frostbitten in frigging Mah'Habara right now, having disturbing dreams about him while she sleeps on the stone floor!
She decides that they're not even real feelings anyway. There's a good case to be made for the idea that this insanity is a consequence of being branded and crystallized. Maybe the entire experience destroyed her higher brain functions!
That seems reasonable. There's no rational reason on any planet that she should have feelings beyond tolerance and irritation for Snow. He's an idealistic idiot.
Which might be the real problem. Perhaps the whole thing is an unfortunate consequence of too much time spent in too close quarters under too much stress.
That must be it.
The journey from Cocoon to Pulse and back was exhausting and soul crushing. She was certain she they were going to fail, and all humanity was going to die. She was lonely and desperate and so guilt ridden over her sister. Snow was optimistic and determined, unwavering in his faith and love. She just latched onto his optimism like a leech in her time of weakness. It seemed okay at the time. He held her back from the pit of her despair, insisted that they would succeed, that they would save themselves, save Cocoon. Save Serah. He kept her from giving up when she felt herself faltering; the unfortunate by-product for her was some sort of…twisted fascination with him. Like he was a flame and she was the mindless moth fluttering around him. And once she noticed him, it was impossible not to see everything: the blue of his eyes that put the oceans to shame; the crinkles at their corners when he drummed up his megawatt smile. His laugh that came from the bottom of his soul and infected everyone. His kind heart when he comforted Hope. His strength in all manifestations. His mouth...
Damn him! She should have kept punching him in his stupid mouth and this would have never happened.
She stands up and grabs her gear determined to keep moving. This whole thing is absurd and the sooner she puts distance (and time) between herself and this...this...lunacy, the better!
She walks down the passageway that Atomos carved from the Sulyya Springs. She glances around the high caverns and notices new passageways since her last journey through this underground world.
"A fal'Cie's work is never done it seems," she mumbles.
Lightning ponders the new cavern, wonders what new treasures lay within. The last time she was in these tunnels, she'd been running for her life. For everyone's lives, really. There'd been no time for sightseeing. She considers the new tunnel for a long moment before saying, "Screw it."
She walks the untraveled path.
Author: frkmgnt1
Rating: PG-13 or T (Pick your poison.)
Pairing: Snow/Lightning, Snow/Serah
Chapter 3: How Shall I Begin?
Word Count ~6,900 words, ~18,400
Description: Snow has something he needs to say. Lightning cannot hear it.
Genre: Angst angst and more angst. Romance (Oh my god! I wrote Romance. WTF?)
Notes: This started life as a one shot, and perhaps should have stayed that way. But the characters nagged me to continue the story and SOMEONE challenged me to write a story without a doomed Snow/Lightning pairing. That's not easy to do and I'm not sure I'll pull it off. But I'm sure as hell going to try it!
I will say that this is not the same universe as my story Evolution, but the relationship between Snow and Lightning in Evolution did inspire this little ditty. So, I guess it's an AU of my AU. (And I usually hate those a lot, but bear with me.)
“Beyond the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea, And the East and West the wander-thirst that will not let me be.”
-Gerald Gould
How Should I Begin...?
"Brilliant, Lightning. Just brilliant." The trip to Taejin's Tower is easy going despite the raging blizzard. Lightning moves with efficiency through the fine, powdery snow. She reaches the small port they built to house the gondola lifts they fashioned from the old elevator system to ascend the steep cliff faces.
And to reach the top of Taejin's tower.
She enters and closes the doors, takes a moment to breathe warmer air. The gondola lifts are in good shape. She checks the ropes and cabling at the bullwheel in the station; checks the gears. She knows all the ins and outs of this machine since she, Sazh and Bartholomew Estheim designed it together. Their main goal was to design a transport system using pulleys, levers and physics to substitute electric power. The rationale behind designing such a system was to conserve the precious resources and fuel they still had in order to use it to construct a means to generate power.
The result of this idea is a hand cranked gondola system that uses counter weights, pulleys, levers and good old fashioned 'elbow grease' to ascend the mountain and reach the top of the tower. Lightning thought the design of the system both elegant and ingenious in its simplicity and was proud to be part of both the design and construction.
The majority of Cocoon citizens, however, were not used to doing much of anything for themselves. Too long had they lived as kept pets in a fal'Cie zoo to embrace any sort of manual labor. Many found the idea of hunting and gathering for food barbaric and beneath them. Agriculture was a foreign concept and garnered looks of incredulity and distaste. And the idea of hand pumps and pulley systems instead of electric pumps and elevators frustrated most of them. The hard work and rough lifestyle turned most of them off to moving away from the center of the growing civilization, which was the reason for the very small population of people in their oceanfront community.
Lightning, on the other hand, embraces hard work. She lives for it! She enters the gondola lift and closes the door, thrilled for the both the reprieve from the weather and a dry place to rest. She sits for a moment, takes the opportunity to catch her breath and nibble some dried meat. The small bite of food hits her stomach like a bomb and makes her queasy. She scowls at the remnants of her meal before rewrapping it and replacing it in her pack. She withdraws a canteen and takes a few small sips of water. The water is frigid and Lightning puts it away before her thirst is quenched to avoid lowering her core body temperature too much. She takes a deep breath...
She's ready now.
She pulls the lever to open the terminal door, packs everything away and grabs onto the handle on the wheel with both hands. She pushes and pulls on the handle, feels muscles in her body pull and flex. Her hand aches more with each motion. The gears are frozen, the cable icy and the work is hard and tedious. The high winds rock the car back and forth on the line and make moving the car upwards and forward even more difficult. Lightning feels sweat on her brow pour into her eyes; more drips from her face into her collar. She knows that her many layers of clothing will be wet from the inside out by the time she reaches the apex of the tower. She continues working, feels the burn in her thighs, in her abdominal muscles. Feels the ache in her bad shoulder that will turn to cramps and spasms by later tonight.
She stops the car once on the way up, hits the brake and takes a moment to catch her breath. The wind rocks the car in near one hundred fifty degree arcs on the line and Lightning slams into the walls like a pinball in a machine for a moment before getting her balance again and continuing the ascent.
It takes her better than a half hour to make it to the top and by the time she summits and coasts into the terminal, she's aching, panting, and swooning with exhaustion. Straightening up makes every muscle in her back spasm and lock and the cold only exacerbates the problem. Her injured hand is swollen and throbbing and spectacularly purple. She presses at the fractured bone, feels the sharp edge where it's moved again and she curses.
She presses against it until she screeches, until the bone feels straight. She chews her chapped lower lip bloody as she tapes up her injured hand again over the original dressing. She dry swallows a painkiller, feels a wave of nausea so strong it knocks her on her ass. She sits, puts her head between her legs and waits for the pain and sickness and ringing to pass.
Wait...Ringing?
The sound draws her out of her misery. She looks at her pack and realizes that the ringing is coming from inside it.
From her communicator.
"Damn it." She roots around in her bag until she comes up with the communicator, looks at the display.
Snow.
"Damn it," she repeats. She considers answering the call for about two seconds, decides that her pain is making her weak. She puts the communicator away unanswered.
She feels better all around. She exits the terminal, at the top of Taejin's Tower. She's looking forward to using the Tower's strange elevator system after that workout. It'll be nice to take it easy for a bit before she has to start trudging again. She walks to the first elevator and hears an unholy racket from below. What the...? She walks to the center of the tower and looks down, finds the reason for her easy, uninterrupted journey inside.
Every animal and monster for miles has sought shelter from the storm within the tower.
"You have got to be kidding me," she says to no one. Or maybe she's just talking to fate and that miserable bitch Etro. Damn Maker and her stupid fal'Cie. This is all her fault. Lightning's positive that it must be her fault. Everything else that sucks in Lightning's life is the Maker's fault, so why should this be different? She stares into the meat grinder below and considers her chances for survival.
"No way." She walks to the east side of the tower and looks down to see what awaits her at the front entrance. She's almost afraid to look. If there are too many creatures milling around at the entrance she's going to have to turn back. She stares into the whipping wind toward the base of the tower and is pleasantly surprised to see that there's a whole lot of nothing waiting for her down there.
"That's because the animals are smarter than you are Lightning," she grumbles to herself. She considers her options. Through the throng, or over the side. "Both options suck, as per usual."
Still, there's no animals down there.
She heaves an enormous sigh that is visible in the frigid air.
"Okay then." So much for the easy way. She digs out her climbing gear: her hooks and anchors, rappel device and ropes. She chooses the longest rope she has, hopes it's long enough. She's just not confident enough in her finger strength or dexterity to do this mess with two ropes. She steps into her harness, checks the clips. She gets out her climbing gloves, realizes that she's not going to be able to get them on with her makeshift splint. She looks at the gloves and makes a decision.
She pulls out her knife and slits the inner seams of the ring finger and pinky of the right glove; she'll stitch it up again later. She can't afford to screw up her hand anymore by climbing without support on the break. She pulls on the fingerless gloves, knows that the cold is going to be a problem. She's going to have to do this very fast if she doesn't want frostbite on her fingertips.
She anchors her rope, ties the ends together, throws the tied ends off the side of the tower and prays it will make it to the bottom. When she sees it pool below she exhales a relieved breath. She sets her pack on her back again, hears more ringing inside it and swears aloud. She listens to the communicator ring once...twice...
Ah, what the hell?
She knows she shouldn't answer it. No good will come of it. Still, she slips off the pack and withdraws the communicator, hits the button to connect already knowing who will be on the line.
"Yeah," she answers. She must be a masochist.
"You left." Obviously.
"What do you want?" Stay cold. She shivers once in the biting wind. It should be easy.
"You left," he repeats. "Why did you leave?"
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask me that question." Dumbass!
"Yeah, I know. It's just..." he pauses. "It's just...you left and you didn't say anything." He sounds angry, and she feels her temper flare to match it. It feels good! "How could you just…leave?" His voice breaks on the last word and the anger fades into something that sounds more like hurt. That's not something she can take. She doesn't want to hurt him. She shouldn't matter enough to hurt him. It's not her right.
"I need a change." Why is she explaining herself to him?
"Look, Lightning…" his voice is small and so un-Snow that she can't listen to it anymore.
"It's none of your business, what I do," she's being cruel and she hates it. She hates him for making her be mean to him. "What do you want? Why are you calling me?"
"I…I was concerned." And that just sucks; it hits her like a gut shot. "I...I came to your house this morning. To apologize and...and to check. To make sure you were... you know with your hand and everything. And ..you were gone." Like hell he came to apologize and if she had any doubts about her decision, they are gone now. She doubts she would have been able to withstand another relentless assault ala 3:30 am. Her defenses are shredded and she's too exhausted to hold the offensive. She decides to show mercy now.
"You don't have to apologize, okay?" It's not his fault. Not really. "We're good. What's done is done."
"But…"
"But nothing. Don't call me again." Pause. She can almost feel his pain. She closes her eyes and centers herself. She shouldn't have answered the call. If she weren't so terrified of plummeting to her death and no one knowing what happened to her, she never would have.
"Where are you?"
"None of your business." She cannot relent.
"I know." He surprises her with that one. She wasn't expecting agreement. "But can't you tell me anyway? Please? I want…" If he says it, I'm hanging up on him. "I want to know you're safe. That's not too much to ask, right? I mean…I thought we... I thought we were friends at least."
She closes her eyes and sits down on the floor. Her legs won't hold her up anymore right now. "We were," she tells him.
"Were?" His voice wobbles in a sickening way. Crap. She didn't mean it like that. "I destroyed everything? I'm sorry."
"Alright." She closes her eyes. Friends? It's ridiculous that he should be so upset over the idea of them not being friends. It's ridiculous that she should find it heartbreaking. "We are. Okay? We are friends."
"So won't you just tell me?"
"Snow..."
"Come on, Light. As your friend." She heaves a sigh. She shouldn't. She knows she shouldn't tell him. It isn't going to make him feel better. He's just going to worry. He may even tell her sister, which will worry her too.
"I'm…" she should not do this. "In Taejin's Tower." She's an idiot.
"What?" He bellows at her. "Are you nuts? You know how dangerous that is! What could you possibly be thinking about?"
"I can take care of myself," she says and feels her anger coming back. It's enough to get her back onto her feet again. "And anyway, it's none of your business. Not as my friend, or as my anything. Do you get it?" There's nothing but silence. "We already had this conversation." She waits for his counterargument.
"Just…be careful. Alright?" She's almost disappointed that he relented. Almost.
"Yeah, I will be," she promises. "And Snow?"
"Yeah Light?" Why does he have to sound hopeful?
"Don't call me again." She hates him for making her hurt him. Why can't he just leave her alone?
Why did you answer the call?
"I…I just…I need to know you're alright. Will you check in with me?"
"No."
"Lightning. Please?" She hates him for hurting her.
"I'll…check in with Serah." This is not conciliatory. She always planned to check in with her sister. "And I'm going to ask Sazh to meet me on the eastern border of the Archylte Steppe."
"The eastern border? You're going to travel across the Steppe by yourself? " Does he have to sound like that?
"I've been taking care of myself for a long time Snow. I'll be fine." She will be.
"I'm coming with you!" He declares. She knew he was thinking it, but she didn't think he would dare say it out loud.
"No you're not." He exhausts her "You're staying home with my sister where you belong."
"Lightning..."
"It's none of your business Snow. I am NONE of your business. Get that through your head. Don't call me again or I'll dump the communicator." She disconnects the call, presses the communicator against her forehead, closes her eyes and just breathes.
She should not have answered the call. It was foolish. It was self destructive. It was cruel. Once upon a time she didn't mind being cruel to him. Now it makes her sick.
She curses the part of her that wanted to speak to him. She loathes the piece of her that needed to hear his voice one more time.
In case she dies.
She's pathetic!
She shakes thoughts of Snow and her weakness out of her head and focuses on the task at hand. She checks her clips again, sets her rappel device, climbs onto the parapet of the tower, puts her back to the open air and sits in her harness.
The first drop is always terrifying. She can check her knots and ropes forty times; until she sits back into her harness, she has no idea whether she's done a good job. Lightning isn't used to such an archaic means of descending great heights. She always had her anti-gravity field generator to break her fall. She just leapt from wherever, snapped her fingers and she was safe. It was faster and far more efficient than ropes and hooks and clamps; and if by some off chance the device failed, there wouldn't even be enough time for her life to flash before her eyes before she impacted and died.
That was then. Now she has to rappel down the side of a two hundred plus foot tower.
She starts slowly, moving inch by painful inch. Her body screams at her for this fresh abuse. She ignores it. She needs to get down the side of the tower before the wind shifts. Right now, she's lucky enough that the tower shields her from the majority of the wind, but there's no telling how long that will last. She needs to move faster, reach the bottom and get her mittens back on before her fingers turn purple.
She lets instinct take over-it's never failed her before-and rappels in large leaps. Each strike of the balls of her feet against the tower rattles through her already sore body. Her toes all hurt like someone stomped them. She's concerned that the pain might be an early symptom of frostbite, but can't worry about it for now as there's nothing she can do. She kicks off, slides down and lands. Again. In the middle of her next rappel, she feels the wind shift, blow ice like razor blades into her face and destroy her trajectory. She twists and smacks the wall hard, takes the impact on her bad right shoulder. She opens her mouth to scream, finds that she doesn't have the air for it. Her grip on the brake in her hand loosens and she slips down the rope unchecked-the speed of gravity minus some measly friction-panics and thrashes for a long few seconds before sense reasserts itself. She clenches her fist, stops hard enough to make every joint in her body pop. She pants and coughs, twists to get her feet between her body and the wall again.
Suck it up!
She looks down, sees the ground just a few stories below. One more good leap. Two tops. She grits her teeth, ignores the pain in her body and tears in her eyes, and keeps moving until she's buried to her shins in snow and ice.
She lays her forehead against the side of the tower for a moment, relieved to be alive. Her communicator rings again inside her bag and she swears aloud at it and the person who is undoubtedly calling her. She regrets taking the stupid thing with her in the first place.
She refuses to even look at the screen.
She disengages her rappel device, packs away her gloves, belt and clips. She flexes her fingers, feels the stiffness in the skin, the pain in the joints, and is alarmed at the livid color of her hands. She blows hot breath on and into them, chafes them together and winces at the pain. She moves swiftly to untie the knotted ends of the rope and pulls until the rope comes free. She pulls out her mittens, slips them onto her damaged hands, coils up her rope and moves onward.
Lightning trudges onward through the mounting snow and despairs of ever reaching Mah'Habara. It's been four hours since she left Taejin's Tower and she hasn't even reached the Sulyya Springs. The temperature seems to drop with each step forward and Lightning wonders at the odds of her freezing to death before she reaches the relative safety of the caves.
She wonders if Snow's dumbass-ery has somehow rubbed off on her.
"Some survival instinct," she grumbles, but the words get lost in the whipping wind. "Remind me again," she says to herself, "why you thought this was such a good idea." She takes a step and sinks up to her shins in the heavy wet snow. "Oh, that's right," she continues, panting from the exertion of moving. "It's because" she takes a breath that burns her lungs, "you're absurd."
"And to top it off..." she exhales and coughs, "you're talking to yourself."
What is wrong with her?
She can feel the cold seeping through the heavy boots, but can no longer feel her toes. This journey is taking twice as long as it should. As she finally reaches the cliffs around the spring, the wind increases to an alarming, painful and possibly deadly velocity.
Rather than offering protection, the cliff walls act like a wind tunnel, collecting the wind and funneling it down the pathway and right into her face. Once she gets into the canyon, the wind is so cold and strong that it actually drives her backwards a few steps for every ten or so she makes. The icy wind feels like it is freezing her eyeballs in her head and she wishes that she'd thought to pack goggles. Then she realizes that she doesn't own goggles, and decides that she's an idiot for not having them in a place where the weather is this brutal. This sort of cold can blind her; at the very least it will chap and windburn her skin. Cold desiccates skin, as does wind, and out here she has copious amounts of both. All exposed flesh will be at risk for splitting and cracking by the time she reaches Mah'Habara.
And if she doesn't reach shelter soon, her extremities will be at risk for severe frostbite and possible gangrene.
Wonderful.
Lightning pulls her scarf up to cover her nose, breathes through her mouth hard into the heavy wool, feels the heat and moisture of her breath spread over her face. Her cheeks sting with cold and the moisture from her breath is adding to the chapping, but the brief warmth is worth it. It doesn't last long and she still feels pretty awful. Her mind is getting slow and muddled. She steps, stumbles and nearly topples into the snow. She shakes her head to clear the fog from her thoughts, rolls her head on her shoulders. She feels loose limbed and uncoordinated. There's a near overwhelming desire to just sit down and regain her strength. Part of her screams about survival, about the danger of falling asleep while exposed, but she finds the concern vague at best. She stops moving forward, stares at the blanket of snow with as much longing as she'd felt for the warmth of her bed earlier.
Her training is whispering about hypothermia. If she is hypothermic and she doesn't get into shelter, she's going to succumb and die. No one is coming looking for her anytime soon. If she stops moving, she's going to become food for the animals, or a frozen popsicle. She squints her eyes as much as possible to shield against the elements, puts her head down to protect her face from the high wind and moves.
It takes a miserable eternity to reach the Sulyya Spring. It's unrecognizable and it takes a moment for her to even get her bearings.. The flowers that were here when they'd last walked through are now buried beneath a layer of snow and ice so thick she doubts it will ever melt. The water is coated in white, spots of ice floating on the liquid waters. She'd been hoping this little oasis would be somehow immune to the winter weather and be the same as it was when she was here last with Fang, Vanille, Sazh, Hope and Snow. It seemed so unchangeable, beautiful and terrible then. She feels tears pool and chill where they touch the skin of her eyelids. She leaves them rather than risking wiping ice and snow on her already freezing cold skin.
She wonders if Bismarck met the same end as most of the other fal'Cie. She feels regret for a moment before snapping the hell out of it.
Have you lost it? She is ridiculous and absurd. Who the hell gets weepy and nostalgic over a forced journey that nearly killed them and destroyed all of humanity? Who mourns a fal'Cie that tried to kill them?
"Get a grip, Lightning," she whispers. Nostalgia is for wimps. Nostalgia for the worst time of one's life is for morons.
She fills a canteen at the spring, thankful that the water has not yet frozen over as this will be the last fresh water she will encounter until she clears Mah'Habara. She flinches when the icy water touches her already frozen skin. She needs to go now. She makes a hard push for the mouth of the cavern, hard enough to reach it in moments. She hides from the brutal weather in the shelter of the cavern. She makes her way into the cave and collapses onto the floor with a huff. She feels her eyelids droop, shakes her head hard to snap herself out of it.
She gets back to her feet, decides moving is necessary until she warms up a bit. She reaches into her pack and withdraws her communicator, sends Hope and Serah a message letting them know that she's gone away for a bit. She tells them she will be out of touch. She assures them of her safety (though her sanity might be at issue here) and promises to message them again when she reaches her destination.
She does not say where she is going. Hope will know soon enough, and Serah doesn't need to know that 'a bit' means 'forever.' She would like to wait until she is on the far side of Mah'Habara before telling Serah anything about her departure, but now that she spoke to Snow, that option is gone. Besides the journey through the cavern can take as much as two days and she will not be able to send or receive messages once inside. She may be a bitch, but she's not that much of a bitch. Serah calls her every day and if Lightning doesn't respond, Serah will worry. Then she'll find that Lightning left without a word and she'll cry. And Lightning hates it when her sister cries.
She hates the idea of hurting her sister. She peers into the blizzard, back towards their home.
No! She's doing the right thing here. Leaving Serah now will be like ripping off a band aid. It'll hurt, but it'll be brief. Serah will have a whole life to heal. If Lightning stays, Serah's pain will be persistent and protracted.
The communicator starts ringing in her hand and she stares at the display: Serah. She sighs, unsurprised by the fact that her sister is calling. She considers answering before discarding the idea as stupid. Serah will know something is wrong as soon Lightning speaks to her. She'll hear the exhaustion and anger in her voice. She'll worry that something serious is wrong; that something terrible has happened. Then she'll tell Snow (seeing as how she lives with him and everything) and Lightning doesn't even want to hypothesize what that big idiot might do. He might open his big stupid mouth in a temper and blow all their lives to hell. She presses on the power button until the screen goes blank and the device shuts off.
"Sorry Serah," she whispers to no one. She hates upsetting her sister, but she can't live a false life anymore. Staying in that hovel in that seaside town is killing her by inches. She'd rather go back out into the blizzard and die to be honest.
She moves further into the caverns. Mah'Habara is so warm compared to outside that Lightning almost kisses the goddamn stone walls. She shucks her hat and scarf and fur poncho and stuffs them into her pack. She'll keep the mittens for now since she can barely feel her fingers through the material as it is. She pulls her weapon, checks it to make sure the ice hasn't accumulated in any of the moving parts before holstering it again.
She needs to dry off and warm up. Her entire body is aching from the long hours of abuse. She needs to sit down for a few minutes, catch her breath and rest. She hadn't planned any such thing until she made her way well into Mah'Habara.
She hadn't planned any of this, to be honest.
"You're getting soft," she tells herself. Her entire body screams back at her in a crescendo of aching pain.
Lightning leans against the stone and slides to the ground. She is wearier than she'd like. Her right shoulder and arm are throbbing in time with her racing heartbeat, but she thinks she's warmed enough now to say with some certainty that she hasn't broken or dislocated anything. She'll probably be bruised from shoulder to hip, but that's manageable pain and won't cause lasting damage if it isn't corrected.
Her feet are aching and burning inside her boots and she knows she needs to check the damage. She pulls off her mittens with her teeth, sees that the swelling around her injury has gone down with the cold, but all her fingers are now plump and cherry red. They throb and burn so hot that she is tempted to go stick them into the snow to cool them down. She resists the stupid urge, knows the burning is from the frostbite. She moves them until they work well enough to unlace her boots.
She's dismayed to find that her socks are damp. She will need to do something to ensure her feet stay drier. She's just begun this trek, and she has miles and miles to travel. She pulls off the damp socks and finds that her feet match her fingers very well.
Definite frostbite. She hopes it is only mild. She doesn't think there'll be permanent damage, though she fears she may end up with some blisters. Those will be very bad on her feet since she's only just started her journey. She withdraws another pair of socks from her pack and slips them on. She pulls out a potion, takes a small amount and feels warmth spread through her. She could do with a fire and a bit of rest.
After all, someone ruined her night's sleep.
/"Can I come in?"/
Jerk!
She shakes her head hard. She reaches into her bag for her communicator again. She needs to let Sazh know she's on the way. She knows from his messages that his adventures sometimes take him away from the settlement for weeks at a time. Now that she's put a bit of distance between her and...yeah, anyway, she realizes that she should have contacted him already.
She digs, snags the bag on her finger withdraws it and a black ball of cloth falls into her lap. She eyes the bandana like an enemy, hooks the knot with her bandaged fingers and lifts it to eye level. She knows she should not have taken this token with her. It is a shameful sign of weakness and she is disgusted with herself.
Even in her shame, she still finds herself touching the golden hairs trapped in the knotted material. She pinches one between the pads of her thumb and bound ring finger, rubs the fingers together over the hair as if it were a butterfly wing.
You're pathetic.
She drops the bandana back into her pack, hopes that a bit of sleep will restore some of her strength to her-enough strength to allow her to leave the bandana behind along with the rest of him.
She puts her weakness and stupidity aside and pulls out the communicator. She turns it on, sees the message indicator flashing. Probably Serah. She can't hear her sister's voice right now. It might break her resolve to keep moving forward and start over. She ignores the message and calls Sazh's communicator. It goes right to the voice mail system and she disconnects rather than leave a message. She has no idea what the hell to say to him anyway. "Hi, I'm on my way," will have him calling her sister faster than she can say Archylte Steppe. It'll be better to wait until she's had a few days of walking to unwind; she'll call again when she reaches the other side of Mah'Habara. .
By the time she puts the communicator away, she finds her eyelids drooping. She skips the fire, despite her yearnings. It might draw enemies, she reasons, though she knows she's only making excuses for her laziness. She sighs and settles for lacing up her boots again, pulling on her gloves, wrapping herself in a blanket, curling on the floor and slipping into an exhausted sleep.
She stands in her living room, feet dirty and cold from the concrete floor. She hears the lock on the front door click in release. She closes her eyes and holds her breath.
Three large steps, a hand on her arm whipping her around, fingers in her hair and he says, "just once," before he swoops down and scalds her with his mouth. "Once Light," he breathes against her mouth. The tip of his tongue traces her bottom lip. He whispers, "I promise," before diving back in.
She's insane to risk her whole life for one stolen night. Snow groans into her mouth and all she can think about is stealing one night.
Snow's left hand snakes down her side, fingers skimming between her pajama top and shorts. She shivers at the sensation as his fingertips trace her hipbone from front to back. Fingertips turn to a whole palm cupping the flare of her hip, thumb rubbing in teasing strokes just beneath the waist band of her shorts before he slides his hand around to rest in the curve of her lower back. He licks gently into her mouth as the fingers of his left hand dip beneath the waistband of her shorts to settle dangerously low. She moans, wraps her arms around his neck and her lips around his tongue. She feels his growl vibrate through her whole body as he drags her toward him, presses her against him with the hand on her lower back. She's up on her toes before she realizes that her feet have left the ground. He walks until she feels the wall pressed against her back and the whole, hard heated length of him along her body. Every inch of her tingles and burns. Her muscles are all clenching and relaxing to the rhythm of his tongue moving in her mouth, toes curling and uncurling, brushing the floor with each movement. He clenches the fingers in her hair and pulls downward and his mouth leaves hers. Her lips burn and throb in time with her racing heart. Snow's mouth finds her pulse point, latches on and sucks so deliciously that she feels it in every molecule of her.
She gasps and he moans against her, insinuates a muscled thigh between her legs and rocks into her. She's pinned to the wall, feet brushing the floor with each small rock of his hips, electricity firing along all her nerve endings with each rhythmic pulse. His hands slide over her body, under her pajamas, lighting every nerve ending aflame in their wake. Fingers brushing the sides of her breasts: teasing, tickling. She claws at his back, slides fingers up into his long hair and jerks his mouth back up to hers with a hard tug. He hisses and seals his mouth over hers. There's no more subtlety left as he presses his tongue into her mouth and licks every spot inside it. She tangles her tongue with his, slides it underneath, tastes to smooth skin and muscle and sighs. He moans and it vibrates through her mouth and resounds through her whole body. He thrusts against her, cups her breasts in his hands and rubs the calloused pads of his thumbs over her nipples. She's so hot she's sure she must be on fire. She writhes against him.
He releases her mouth, backs off and breathes scorching breath over her aching lips. She leans forward to taste him again but he holds himself away and she opens her eyes. His eyes are black with lust, only the thinnest trace of blue rings the dilated pupils. "I love you."
"Shut up," she says and he rubs against her just right, makes her eyes roll back and her breath catch. He licks her open mouth once, slides his wet-wet mouth over her jawbone.
"I need you," he whispers into her ear, and flicks the lobe with his tongue, latches his scalding mouth onto her neck and moves against her again. She feels his teeth pressing into the skin on her neck, just the pleasure side of pain, before the pressure is gone and his tongue traces the outline. He rocks into her again and whispers, "I want you."
"You have me." It's the only consolation she'll offer. Just once, she reminds herself. She can have him just once. She needs him. She'd sell her soul for just once right now! Maybe the once will purge this demon from their souls; scratch the itch and sate the hunger. His mouth devours her again and she clutches fistfuls of his coat in her hands, hops up and wraps her legs around him, locking them together around his hips and grinds against him.
He groans into her mouth and thrusts against her. She feels every last inch of him through his clothes, hard all over and harder still between her legs, through several layers of cloth. He presses against her again and lets her feel his need, ratcheting up her own skyrocketing desire. It's not enough. She needs more. Her fingers prod and grope, work under his coat and under his shirt to get a feel heated skin. He's wearing too many layers and she's still pinned. She shimmies and growls. He drops his hands under her thighs and backs away from the wall and staggers towards her bedroom. He pulls away from her mouth, presumably so he can see where he is going. She pants into his ear, bends to latch onto a spot on his neck before reminding herself that she cannot mark him. He is not hers.
He is her sister's.
Horror pulls her from her dream, has her upright before she decides to move. The quick action sparks a wave of vertigo that has her closing her eyes again and almost topples her face first onto the floor. The dream flashes behind her eyelids and she snaps them open again, stunned at her brain's audacity and treachery. Her heart pounds hard in her chest and throat from the cocktail of anger, fear and arousal swirling inside her.
"What the hell was that about? " she asks the empty cavern. Her voice echoes and she winces, waits to see if her impromptu exclamation will draw enemies to her.
She hates Snow…absolutely hates him for making her want him; for making her dream about him. He never should have touched her. She should have broken his goddamn hand for daring to touch her! If he hadn't showed up at her house last night, she would have continued on with her life in blissful ignorance of his feelings for her. She would have gotten over the disturbing feelings rolling around inside her-she knows she would have.
She wouldn't be frostbitten in frigging Mah'Habara right now, having disturbing dreams about him while she sleeps on the stone floor!
She decides that they're not even real feelings anyway. There's a good case to be made for the idea that this insanity is a consequence of being branded and crystallized. Maybe the entire experience destroyed her higher brain functions!
That seems reasonable. There's no rational reason on any planet that she should have feelings beyond tolerance and irritation for Snow. He's an idealistic idiot.
Which might be the real problem. Perhaps the whole thing is an unfortunate consequence of too much time spent in too close quarters under too much stress.
That must be it.
The journey from Cocoon to Pulse and back was exhausting and soul crushing. She was certain she they were going to fail, and all humanity was going to die. She was lonely and desperate and so guilt ridden over her sister. Snow was optimistic and determined, unwavering in his faith and love. She just latched onto his optimism like a leech in her time of weakness. It seemed okay at the time. He held her back from the pit of her despair, insisted that they would succeed, that they would save themselves, save Cocoon. Save Serah. He kept her from giving up when she felt herself faltering; the unfortunate by-product for her was some sort of…twisted fascination with him. Like he was a flame and she was the mindless moth fluttering around him. And once she noticed him, it was impossible not to see everything: the blue of his eyes that put the oceans to shame; the crinkles at their corners when he drummed up his megawatt smile. His laugh that came from the bottom of his soul and infected everyone. His kind heart when he comforted Hope. His strength in all manifestations. His mouth...
Damn him! She should have kept punching him in his stupid mouth and this would have never happened.
She stands up and grabs her gear determined to keep moving. This whole thing is absurd and the sooner she puts distance (and time) between herself and this...this...lunacy, the better!
She walks down the passageway that Atomos carved from the Sulyya Springs. She glances around the high caverns and notices new passageways since her last journey through this underground world.
"A fal'Cie's work is never done it seems," she mumbles.
Lightning ponders the new cavern, wonders what new treasures lay within. The last time she was in these tunnels, she'd been running for her life. For everyone's lives, really. There'd been no time for sightseeing. She considers the new tunnel for a long moment before saying, "Screw it."
She walks the untraveled path.