Do I Dare Disturb the Universe? Chapter 8/? Lightning/Snow
Title: Do I Dare Disturb the Universe?
Author: frkmgnt1
Rating: PG-13 or T (Pick your poison. No graphic anything as of Chapter 8)
Chapter 8: Dying with a Dying Fall ~7,000
Pairing: Snow/Lightning, Snow/Serah
Word Count so far ~54,000
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?)
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."
-Edmund Burke
"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it."
-Helen Keller
-Dying With a Dying Fall-
"So what's the plan, Soldier?" Sazh asks as he follows her into the broken house. She spies her pack, swipes it and begins picking through it. "You're just going to run off into the snow and face a horde of murderers by yourself?"
Lightning pauses in her perusal and sighs. That is actually pretty close to the plan. Except : "No. I was figuring that I'd steal your ride, actually."
Sazh barks out a humorless laugh. "Lone wolf again, huh?"
As if she knows any other way. She considers answering him before deciding that she's not up for a fight with Sazh. Lightning lifts Snow's bandana from the pack, stares at it a moment and feels...relieved. She strokes the material once before gritting her teeth and shoving the bandana deep into her bag.
She's ridiculous.
"Tell me something, Soldier. Didn't you learn anything last year at all?"
Lightning huffs out an irritated breath.
"I learned plenty." She pulls the drawstrings on her bag tight with a hard snap of her wrist. "I learned that everything I thought I knew...everything for my whole life - was a lie. I learned that I didn't know anything. That's what I learned."
That revelation still burns more than she'll admit.
"I learned that the majority of casualties in war are unarmed noncombatants." All those people killed in the Purge. The citizens of Palumpolum. The entire population of Gran Pulse. If Barthandelus had had his way, it would have been all of humanity as well. Instead, it was only two of her friends. It seems a small price - sacrificing Fang and Vanille for the world.
It seems a small price...but it isn't.
She's tired of sacrifices.
Lightning shifts her pack and shoulders it.
"I learned that if I wanted to change things, then I had do something. Meaning well..." she sighs, "just doesn't mean a thing. Not really." The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and so on and so forth. She gives Sazh her most level gaze. "And I learned that I'm tired of watching people - innocent people - die."
Images of Fang and Vanille flash through her mind as she speaks the word 'innocent.'
"Yeah. Well, I'm tired of watching people die too," Sazh says, rubbing his head. "And that includes you."
"I'm not going to die," Lightning states.
"Oh, so you're immortal now?" She rolls her eyes and decides that arguing is a waste of time. He's worried, and she cares too much about him to belittle him for that. Sazh seems to realize the futility of sarcasm and takes a different approach.
"Just..." Sazh's whole body radiates exhaustion and Lightning finds her determination eroding. "Let's just talk about this for a minute, alright? Figure out a plan."
"We don't have time." She's not just saying that to avoid talking (though that's part of her motivation too). Every minute is precious; there is a countdown going on and she slept through a day of it.
"Look..." Sazh says, trying to project 'reasonable' though she can tell he feels anything but. "I've been stockpiling for this occasion, Soldier. I make one call and we can wipe out those bastards. All I need is the location."
She can see the frown lines around Sazh's mouth and between his eyes. She notes the tremors rumbling beneath his skin like earthquakes. It's like there's something inside him twitching to get out.
That 'something' is too familiar: monsters beneath the skin, the desire to kill raging through him unchecked. One misstep and Sazh will disappear into his bitter hatred.
She doesn't want Sazh to become a murderer. Sazh is too good to be like her.
Besides, Fang would kick Lightning's ass for allowing Sazh to destroy himself. They'd all come too close to being monsters last year to succumb to their baser instincts now.
"You're talking about murder."
"I'm talking about survival," Sazh counters. 'This is just one outpost, Soldier. One! These people were friends. I helped them set up this outpost. Do you understand?" There's a vein bulging in Sazh's forehead. "They were good people, and we promised to protect them. Now look - just look - at what these monsters have done!"
There's so much outrage in Sazh, she wonders if it will consume him right now. She wishes that Vanille were here to talk Sazh down. She always had such a knack with him. She wishes that Snow were here to irritate Sazh out of his rage.
She wishes Snow were here for too many reasons to count.
She stalls the train of thought. She has no time to think about Snow, and no time to long for his aid. She needs to stop thinking about him forever. He's where he belongs...
And dealing with this mess is her responsibility.
"That's why you shouldn't do this Sazh. You're too close to it." Lightning knows how destructive the warpath to vengeance can be. After she lost Serah to crystal stasis, she blazed a trail of destruction across Cocoon on a suicide mission to Eden. She didn't care who or what her crusade consumed. It was only a moment of clarity, wherein she saw her own rage reflected back from Hope's face, that showed her exactly how off the rails she'd gone. Viewing her own self-destruction in the mirror of Hope's shadowed eyes snapped her out of her downward spiral faster than a bucket of ice water. Her rage dissipated, her priorities changed. That moment changed her life - saved her life.
Hope saved her life.
She knows that what she feels now is worlds away from what she felt last year. As angry as she is right now, it's anger over senseless murder. It's retribution, but not vengeance. It's justice and salvation that she longs to deliver.
She has no personal stake in this mission. It's how she knows she'll succeed.
"Damn right, I'm close to it," Sazh barks. "I've had to bury good people. Families, Soldier! I had to bury children. I had to pick pieces of them off the floor, and try not to gag on the stench. This isn't about me, it's about them. Don't dismiss this out of hand. I think I understand where you're coming from here." She raises an eyebrow at him and he deflates a bit. "I'm not willing to let more good people die just to avoid doing something...distasteful."
Right. This approach isn't working. She needs to take a different tack.
"What about the hostages Sazh?" Lightning asks. "Have you thought about what launching a full scale attack will do to them?"
Sazh nods. "I have. But they're probably already dead, Soldier."
That thought had occurred to her. "And if they're not?"
"Then they're casualties of war." He flinches as he says it. She cringes at the idea that he's this far gone.
"I'm done with casualties of war, Sazh. I'm done with acceptable losses." Lightning drops her bag and crosses her arms. "It's how I justified...everything last year. We killed so many people, and whether we meant to, or we wanted to, it really doesn't change the facts anymore." Not that it ever did.
Lightning reaches into her bag and pulls out the liquor that Fang gave her. Old Pulsian alcohol to go with old wounds. She takes a deep swallow and passes the bottle to Sazh. He looks stricken, but takes a drink.
"I did what I had to do last year, and I justified the deaths with thoughts of the 'greater good.' And maybe it was." She caps the bottle and puts it back into her bag. "But I'm done sacrificing people for the greater good. Wiping these men out in one fell swoop is definitely the smarter tactic here. I agree with you. Delaying at all risks letting them escape and regroup." Sazh leans against a wall pockmarked by gunfire, absorbs each word like a physical blow.
"I know all of these things," she continues. "I've considered them, and I've decided that I don't care. I'm not willing to sacrifice the few to save the many anymore. I'm done with compromising my humanity." It's too close to what the fal'Cie wanted-a sacrifice for the greater good. An end to suffering bought with the blood of the innocent. "I'm going to save these women. If they're still alive."
"And if they're not?" Sazh asks. He waits a beat and continues: "What about the next women, Soldier? What do we say to them if we let these animals get away?"
He's right, of course. Any future victims' blood will be on her hands; their deaths will be on her head.
She's willing to take the risk. There's no other choice for her anymore, and she doubts he'll be able to live with the guilt of killing hostages for any sort of greater good. It sounds a hell of a lot easier than it is. It should be an agonizing decision and he's made it too readily.
"I can't deal in theories or hypotheticals anymore, Sazh." Lightning lifts her bag again. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."
Sazh nods; he looks almost relieved by her decision and she's certain she's made the right one. "So what's the plan then?"
Lightning gives him her most dangerous grin. "I'm going in."
"What?" Hope yells from the doorway, startling both Lightning and Sazh. "You're not serious. You can't...I mean-"
Lightning puts her hands on Hope's shoulders and waits for him to stop sputtering. He's gone past trembling into full on shaking. She keeps her voice calm and level. "I have to, Hope. There's no other way."
"You don't know that! We haven't even had time to think of another way."
"These women don't have time for brainstorming." She considers her next words, knowing that they might backfire on her. "Every minute they're there is hell, Hope."
"And you're just going to walk in and..." he pales. "And...do you know what they're going to do to you?"
Sure she does. Or, at least, she knows what they'll try to do. Does he?
Lightning glances at Sazh for help but he shakes his head and turns away. He won't help her, but he won't to let Hope see the doubt and fear in his eyes either. They've already had this conversation, after all. Sazh blustered and cursed at her until he was stammering and red-faced. He said everything and nothing, unwilling to bring himself to talk about the torture that might befall her if her plan were to backfire.
She's not going to let Hope put words to his fears either.
"Look, Hope-"
"No. What is this about? You still looking to get yourself killed?" Hope's face is scarlet with rage. She should have expected him to throw her suicide run from last year in her face, but he catches her off guard with the accusation. She never really believed that he understood the nature of her mission then. He was so caught up in his own grief and swept up in the tornado of her rage that she really didn't think he noticed. He was just looking for someone as angry and hurt as he, someone who understood the impotence of his rage and the uselessness of his loss. Apparently, some distance, time and a bit of clarity offered him insight into Lightning's motivations.
Damn it.
Tears pool in his eyes before one does a slow crawl down his face. "I thought..."
"Hope...this isn't like...that." Her explanation is lame; she knows it is. He snorts at her and shakes his head. "It's not! These people need help, Hope. That is all this mission is about."
"I don't believe you," he huffs and storms out of the house.
She nods at the numbing hurt spreading through her. She's not surprised - not by his lack of faith, nor at her own pain in the face of it - but she's never been more certain of anything than she is in this moment. This is the correct course of action for her. She's the perfect person for this job.
She's the only person for this job.
She turns toward Sazh, finds him facing the corner staring at his feet. "So, you know the plan. You give me one day, then you launch the assault."
Sazh nods and half-turns toward her. "You sure..."
"If I'm not out in a day, I'm not getting out. And if this doesn't work..." I don't want to be left there anyway, she doesn't say.
She unbuckles her holster and places it on the ruined table. She feels more naked without her weapon than without clothing, but going in strapped defeats her objective. "I want Hope to have this if..."
"Please..." Sazh whispers and puts his hand over his face. He nods. "I'll take care of it."
"I know you will." She pulls out the knife from her birthday. Serah was so proud of this blade. So proud that she found Lightning the perfect birthday gift. Lightning smiles, thinking about her satisfaction at opening that gift. Lightning cherishes this blade; not for its beauty or utility - it has both in spades - but because of what it represents. It was a token of Serah's love, a symbol of her understanding of who Lightning was on a fundamental level.
It is also a reminder of the last day of her old life. That revelation might seem strange to other people, but that birthday marked the end of fal'Cie control over her. Lightning is still ashamed when she reflects on her behavior that day. She made Serah cry; she drove her from the house. That singular act set off a chain of events that changed the entire world. Lightning regrets her actions that day, but she doesn't regret the resolution that came because of those acts. She turned her back on the Sanctum - on her duty - and ran full tilt towards those who would destroy her sister.
This blade is a symbol of Lightning's decision to abandon duty for family, to abandon old teachings for new ideas. It is a symbol of the strength her sister gave to her; the resolve to do what was right, rather than what was easy.
It is a symbol of her sister's love, and Lightning never thought she would part with it.
Leaving it behind is harder than leaving her weapon, but the idea of it falling into enemy hands makes the decision simple. She won't have this beautiful blade used to butcher innocent people. She won't allow anyone to tarnish her knife, or desecrate what it represents.
She swallows, places the knife on the table and says, "This goes back to Serah, please."
Sazh looks pained as he nods at her request.
She pulls out the liquor and takes a whiff. Her eyes water (this is the good stuff, Fang's voice whispers) and she puts it on the table.
"This is yours," she tells Sazh. "She'd want you to have it."
Sazh looks ill. Lightning wishes this were easier, but some things need to be done, and sometimes doing those things is damn difficult.
Impossible, even.
She stares at her possessions lined up on the table. Pretty little things, all in a row. She considers that she's left nothing for Snow; decides that it's fitting. They've given each other all she'll ever allow-
/his breath on her face, his fingers on her skin/
-and shared more than they had any right to. She reaches into her pack, finds the bandana and considers leaving it behind. She looks at the now coveted blond hairs in the knot, rubs the material between her fingers, lets her fingers ghost over the flaxen hair before she stuffs the bandana into her pocket.
She is leaving behind some of her most cherished possessions. She refuses to part with this small indulgence.
It may not be right that she gets to have this token while he gets nothing, but then no one has ever accused her of an overabundance of fairness.
"Alright then." The statement is unnecessary, but she feels like someone needs a lifeline here. "I'm off."
"Hold up a second there Soldier," Sazh grabs her arm.
"Sazh..." She really wanted to avoid a big scene here. She needs all her strength for the coming battle.
"I'm changing that bandage on your hand." She narrows her eyes at him, watches him pull something out of his pocket and feels a real smile spread across her face.
"Is that-?"
"Uh-huh." Sazh says as he pulls out the medkit and holds out a hand expectantly. Snow did the same thing when she first broke her hand on his face. She shoves aside the memory of his eyes and the bruises she caused.
She wishes Snow would stop haunting her.
She sits opposite Sazh and lets him start peeling off the bandages.
"You really are a genius, you know that Sazh?" Sazh smiles as he takes out gauze, tape and splints and lays them out on the table.
"Yeah, well someone around here ought to use their damn head."
The new bandage is heavier and bulkier than the old ones, but Lightning doesn't mind at all. Her fingers are immobilized, pinky and ring finger taped together, thick padding wadded and stiff between them. The splint around them, cupping side of her hand is cumbersome, but she appreciates any extra protection to support the break.
She has a feeling she's going to need to hit people - a lot of people - and destroying her hand in the process is not an appealing prospect. She pulls on her poncho and her mittens. She shoulders her pack and walks over to Sazh.
He refuses to look at her.
"I'll see you in twenty-four hours."
"Right." The nod comes a second after the word, as if he forgot that the gesture and word are a matched set. "Sure."
"Do me a favor, Sazh." He meets her eyes.
"Anything."
"Try not to look like I'm going off to my execution." She raises an eyebrow at him, curls her lip in what she hopes is a wry look. When he snorts and looks away she figures she came close enough to her mark. She finds his fear touching and upsetting at once. She has no desire to scare him. She has no doubt that she will succeed in this mission. Failure is not an option.
"Have a little faith," she tells him.
"I've got tons of faith, Soldier. I just..." he huffs, takes a deep breath and meets her eyes. "You're right. If anyone can pull this insanity off, it's you." He holds out a hand to shake. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She shakes his hand, then leans in and gives him a hard hug. He sighs against her, claps her hard on her back.
"Take care of everyone," she whispers. He's always taken care of them. Since the minute she met him, he's been taking care of them. He's a caretaker to his very core. That is why she could never allow him to become a killer.
Killing is her domain.
"I got 'em. You just take care of you. You hear me, Soldier?"
She pulls back, turns and leaves the house. She looks around for Hope, but doesn't see him. The idea of leaving with things-wrong between them-makes her sad. She looks around, looks toward the darkening sky and sighs. She needs to leave. The cliffs along the western border of the Steppe are going to take two hours by Snow Kat. She'll have to ditch it long before that and walk the rest of the way, and she needs to get there while it's still dark.
Her plan depends on it.
She trudges through shin deep snow to the Snow Kat and opens the door.
"So that's it? You just leave?"
She huffs out a breath, tosses her bag into the passenger seat and turns to look at Hope.
"It's going to be fine, Hope."
"I'm never going to understand why you're doing this. There has to be another way."
She rubs her brow, feels the aggravation building and shoves it aside as hard as possible. They don't have time to waste on fighting.
"There might be, but I can't think of it."
"Well, you didn't give me a chance." He throws his hands up and yells, "No one has ever given me a chance."
"Hope..."
"No! My mother didn't say a word before taking that gun. She just did it...and died."
"It's not the same, Hope."
"Isn't it?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "No one told me about what was happening. About all the killings. And now you're going to go off and try and break into the camp..." he pauses, and gives her a look that fills her with dread. "I can come with you!"
"No!"
"I can help!" Hope exclaims. "I can. I'm not useless, Light."
"Wait-"
"If you don't take me with you, I'll just follow you. Just like last year. You know I will, Light. So you have to take me with you."
She grabs him by both arms and shakes him. Hard. She gives her anger its head and lets it run free. "Enough! You are not coming with me!
"But-"
"Absolutely not!" She shakes him hard enough to shut him up. "You listen to me. You are not coming with me because they will kill you!"
"Wha-"
"They'll kill you, Hope. Just like they did to all the men in this camp. Do you understand?"
"Maybe not."
"No. You're right. Maybe not." She grabs him by his soft baby-face, steels herself and says, "Maybe they'll see just how very pretty you are, and you'll get to see exactly what monsters like to do with pretty young boys. Sound like fun?"
His eyes are huge and wet. He tries to shake his head in the negative but she holds him fast. She needs to convey how serious she is right now. The idea of him following her into that death camp is terrifying. He might die. He might see. He'll never be the same if he goes there, and that's supposing he makes it out at all.
"You. Are not. Coming with me." She punctuates each word with a tighter grip on his chin. "If you come, we'll both die." He opens his mouth but she squeezes him until he winces. "I can't worry about you too. I need to be focused in there Hope. If you're in there with me, I won't be able to concentrate." She eases her grip on his face, wipes the tears pouring down his face away. "I need you to live."
"I need you to live," he echoes.
"I will." He shakes his head and closes his eyes. "Once, you believed I could do anything."
"I was stupid!"
She laughs. "You were young," she corrects. She lets go of Hope's face and starts fixing his coat. She needs something to do with her hands to still the trembling. "I need you to believe that I can do this."
"Do you?" Hope asks. She furrows her brow at him. "Do you believe you can do it?"
Does she? Does she really think that she can pull off this crazy-ass plan of hers? Or is this just another way for her to punish herself? She's honest enough with herself to recognize the possibility, but this doesn't feel like her usual brand of fatalistic masochism. This feels like self-assurance.
This feels right.
"I do," she declares and she can see him considering her. He must see the truth in her eyes, because he subsides and nods.
"You should call your sister."
It's like a gut punch. She staggers at the thought of her sister. She shudders at the idea of speaking to her.
"She's worried about you."
"Hope-"
"No. Even if you're right and everything is fine, you should still call her. I mean...just in case."
Damn it!
What the hell is she going to say to Serah? All the reasons that she left her home burst free from their prison in her mind to run amok through her thoughts with big, sloppy boots. She doesn't want to know if Snow decided to be a jackass and blow up their lives; as long as she remains out of touch, she can pretend that she isn't a home-wrecker. As long as she maintains radio silence, life back home is status quo.
As long as she doesn't know the truth, she can continue telling herself lies.
She feels a pain in her heart match the one in her head.
Hope is right. She cannot go off on such a dangerous mission without speaking to her sister. Neither can she tell her sister about said mission.
She wants to smack Hope in the head for giving her something else to worry about when she should be preparing herself for her infiltration and rescue.
She swears, quiet and colorful, before meeting Hope's eyes.
"Give me your communicator," she orders.
"Where's yours?" She gives him a look that she hopes conveys her full-body irritation at his interference in her life. From the immediate fumbling and paling, she figures she can call that one a win. Hope holds the communicator out to her and says, "Here you go."
"Yeah, thanks," she snarls and seeks some distance and privacy. She mumbles under her breath about nosy kids being more trouble than they're worth and hopes that he hears her.
She dials the code for Serah's communicator and feels her stomach flutter when she hears the tone indicating that the other end is ringing. She rubs her eyes, listens to the second ring and starts to feel calmer. She can do a message. She can tell her sister she loves her, tell her that she's doing what's right and what makes her happy, all without having to hear her sister's fear or anger. She'll get to say goodbye without having to listen to recriminations. It's a great idea! She's got the message all drafted up in her head when the ringing cuts off.
"Hello?"
Crap. "It's me."
"Claire!" The relief in her sister's voice cuts right through her. "You're alright!"
"Yeah, Serah. I'm alright."
"Oh, I'm so...I'm so happy." Serah doesn't sound happy at all. She sounds like she's crying and Lightning's own eyes sting in response. "I was so worried."
"I'm sorry." It sounds lame to her own ears. She can just imagine how pale the apology is for Serah.
"You should be! That was the stupidest thing you've ever done." Serah snaps. Then she snorts and chuckles, sniffles once and says, "But since you're okay, I'll forgive you."
Serah always forgives her too easily. Lightning doesn't deserve her. "You always do."
"What?" Lightning closes her eyes and berates herself. Something in her tone gave her away. She knew this call was a bad idea. "Claire? What's wrong? What's going on?"
It was easier to be strong and brave before she thought about her sister. Dying doesn't terrify Lightning anywhere near as much as the thought of breaking Serah's heart.
"Nothing," she lies.
"Don't lie to me," Serah insists. "I know you! Don't you think I know when something's wrong?"
Of course Serah knows when something is wrong. She's smart and sensitive, and she makes Lightning ache with pride.
"Okay." She clears the frog from her throat. "Listen, Serah. There's something I have to do. And it's a little bit dangerous." Serah starts protesting but Lightning talks right over her. "I don't want you to worry-"
"Too late!"
"-because I'll be fine." Lightning is not lying now. She believes that she will be fine, and once she disconnects this call, she has to push thoughts of her sister from her mind in order to make sure her beliefs become reality. She cannot worry about Serah and take care of herself; last year's suicide run to Eden proved just how crazy worrying for her sister makes her behave. "I'll be fine. I need you to believe me."
"What are you doing?" Serah asks. She sniffles and swallows and Lightning knows that her sister is putting on her bravest face. She can picture the downward twist and quiver of her bottom lip, the crinkle between her eyes indicative of her battle against tears. Serah clears her throat and manages to sound calm when she asks, "Can't you tell me that?"
Serah fills her with pride and shame in equal measures. Everyone who knows them believes that Lightning is the brave Farron sister, and that Serah is delicate and fragile. What none of them realize is that Serah is her anchor. Lightning would have flown apart and self-destructed after her parents died if it weren't for Serah.
Taking care of Serah is all Lightning has ever done. It's all that holds her together. Serah doesn't need Lightning anywhere near as much as Lightning needs Serah.
Serah hasn't needed her for a long while now. Lightning will need Serah until the day she dies.
"I don't..." Lightning considers the request, and starts again. "Do you really think that's going to help you? I want you not to worry about me. I need you to believe me when I tell you that I'm going to be fine."
Because if Serah doesn't believe her - believe in her - then what chance does she have?
"And you think telling me means I won't believe you." Serah pauses. "That's not very reassuring, Sis."
"I need to do this, Serah," Lightning insists. She doesn't know what to do, and she's not used to feeling indecisive. If Serah asks her not to go, she's not certain she'll have the strength to refuse her. Refusing Serah has always bordered on impossible for Lightning. "It's important. There are lives at stake."
There's a long pause; long enough that Lightning wonders if the call has dropped. Finally: "Okay. Keep your secrets if they make you feel better. But you'd better keep your promise too."
"Haven't I always?" Lightning returns then flinches.
No. She promised that she would never hurt Serah and it seems that she's always hurting her. She promised to protect her, and she drove her to the fal'Cie that long-ago day. She promised her that her life would be happy, and she stole her lover's heart.
She promised she'd always be there for her, and she ran away from their lives like some sort of thief in the night.
Serah deserves better - has always deserved better.
"Yes," Serah replies without missing a beat, tearing Lightning from her own self-flagellation. Serah's faith makes Lightning smile. "And that's why I'm going to do what you ask. I'm going to trust you'll be okay."
"Thank you," Lightning breathes and feels a thousand pound weight lift from her. "I have to go now."
"Wait! Light! About Snow..."
That thousand pound weight hits her right on her head. She's dizzy and flailing. "Serah...I can't talk about-"
"No-"
"I have to-"
"No, wait-"
"-go. I love you."
"Claire!"
Lightning disconnects the call on Serah's huff.
Smooth, Lightning. Real smooth.
That sucked, but she cannot discuss Snow with Serah. Not right now, and, if she has her way, not ever. If he opened his big, stupid mouth, she can't know it. She'll be too distracted and end up getting herself - and everyone else for that matter - killed. And if he didn't open his mouth, she'll have to listen to her sister talk about wedding plans, and extract promises from Lightning about being the Maid of Honor. The very thought makes Lightning sick for more reasons than she can possibly count.
She's a terrible person and a worse sister.
That whole conversation could have gone better. She closes her eyes, sees her sister's sad face before her and flinches. She gives her head a rough shake to abolish the image, ends up with picture of Snow on her couch, staring up at her with love and loathing in his eyes.
Of course, it could have gone worse too, she concedes.
She opens her eyes, blinks away moisture that she refuses to acknowledge, exhales a shaky breath, turns, and walks back to Hope.
He looks shifty and a tad bit satisfied. She gives him her most scathing look, waits until he deflates before showing mercy. She smirks at him, hands him his communicator and says, "Thank you, Hope."
He smiles at his feet and turns red to the tips of his ears.
She surprises them both by pulling him into a tight hug. He's grown in the past year, she realizes. Where he used to fit under her chin, he's now almost eyelevel with her. He's still too skinny by half, but that's nothing unusual on Gran Pulse. Food is harder to come by now that they have to grow it and hunt it themselves.
There's so much to do on this world. She cannot believe how much time she's wasted...
Something in her snaps.
It's enough.
It's enough berating and self-flagellation. She wasted time, but that is not a capital offense. She's tired of feeling bad about things she cannot change.
Guilt begets wallowing, which leads to inactivity which, in turn, begets more guilt. It's a pointless and irritating cycle and she's done with it. She has things to do and if she wastes time thinking about her failures, she will fail again.
She can't afford to fail. There are lives on the line here - lives other than hers.
She releases Hope, plants a soft kiss on his burning cheek, ruffles his hair once before climbing into the Snow Kat.
"Be careful, Light," he begs. She nods. She has every intention of being careful.
"See you soon," she promises.
Driving the Snow Kat is what Lightning imagines driving a dishwasher on skis would be like. The machine is bulky, awkward and lumbering; turning is a less a decision than an occupation. Going straight and holding steady is more a stroke of luck than anything. The vehicle is cumbersome: all veering jerks and hard shimmies that jar and pull at her shoulders, and set a small fire in her lower back.
It's a beautiful piece of creative technology and it makes Lightning grin.
The Snow Kat eats up the land faster than Atomos. The interior is warm and wonderful as she traverses the terrain. The snow stretches out for miles: forever, it seems. The sunset paints the world the color of blood and the sight is sickening and awesome. Red fades to blush; to purple; to blue, before the world dims. When darkness falls, the surface of Gran Pulse more closely resembles the silver of the stars in the heavens than the lush, green world she first encountered. The view through the foggy, speckled windshield, combined with the hum of the engine and the rattle of the frame is hypnotic. Lightning's mind blanks out then wanders-
/'Just once,' and then there's lips covering hers, a tongue filling her mouth, twirling, flicking, sending a jolt like electricity to her brain to ricochet down to her toes. Heat spreads sweet and sticky as jam through her whole body. Her fingers are numb where they claw and clutch. Her head spins. Her mouth tingles and she quivers when he whispers, 'Sorry' against her over-sensitized, parted lips. Then he proves he's not at all sorry by sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. He nibbles the moan right out of her, swallows it down like a thief. Her pulse quickens and her focus narrows until the entire world exists only where breath mingles and hot flesh meets.../
She shakes her head and swears aloud - at him, at herself, at the whole damn mess that the fal'Cie created.
Why did Snow have to force this issue? Things were chugging along just fine until he buckled beneath the burden. He was supposed to be strong and steadfast. He promised he would love Serah forever, and Lightning counted on his belief in his own hero persona to hold him true to his word. He never let her down before, not even when she believed - with every fiber of her being - that he would fail. He almost had her convinced that he really was the noble hero.
Then he kissed her and changed everything. One stolen moment of breath and tongue became the wrecking ball smashing their precarious world.
No matter what she does, or how hard she tries, she cannot purge the taste or feel of him from her memory. She can't forget the heat of his body, or her own desire to know the weight of it pressing onto her.
She is the worst sort of person. It was bad enough wanting this - wanting him - before she recognized the feeling as want at all. It was bad enough lusting after him when it was unconscious and disguised as discomfort. It was bad enough loving him...
She can't go there. She can never go there.
It was all terrible, but this feeling - this pining - is so much worse. It's covetous and sinful.
It's a betrayal of her beloved sister. She knows it is.
So why the hell can't she stop?
"Enough of this nonsense, Lightning." She spends the next five minutes battling with the Snow Kat - also known as 'turning' - in order to conceal it alongside the cliffs to the north. She eases the vehicle to a coast, lets it skid to a stop. She kills the engine and soaks up the remainder of the heat before the bite of the cold outside wriggles its way into the vehicle's cab.
She reaches into her pack, pulls out her communicator, turns it on and drops it onto the passenger seat. The beacon will lead Sazh right to the Snow Kat so he can retrieve it tomorrow if she doesn't make it.
She murders the thought before it has a chance to set down roots. A seed of doubt will get her killed.
She roots around in her pack for anything else she can't bear to lose. Her knuckles brush against something hard and she gropes for it, pulls it from the pouch.
Odin.
She forgot she brought Odin with her on this journey. The Eidolon is sleeping - dormant. She has no more magic, focus, brand, or power to summon it from its sleep.
Too bad. Odin might be useful on this pseudo-suicide mission.
She drops the stone back into her bag. No one will know what it is, and she can't bring herself to leave Odin behind. They've been through too much together.
She will face this trial as she faced her last one - with her Eidolon. If she is to die (don't think such things), she'll do so with her Eidolon.
She wonders when she became a sentimental ass. She thinks of blond hairs trapped in a knotted bandana and decides that Snow is to blame. Again. It seems he's to blame for all her faults, current and otherwise. Soon she'll begin rewriting her personal history in order to cast herself as a victim of Snow and his asininity.
She beats all her thoughts of Snow into submission; they'll do her no good tonight. Or ever, really, but tonight is her major concern. One misstep this night will bring death - or worse - with the sunrise.
She shivers, looks at her breath fogging up the inside of the windows, checks the sky through the side window.
Time to go.
She steps out of the vehicle into the frigid night air and marches toward destiny.
TBC...
I know. I know! Still no sign of Snow, right? Sorry. I'm working on it, I swear. Things are just taking longer to work themselves out. He'll make an appearance soon. I swears it on the precious!!!
As always, thanks for reading!
Feedback is love!
Author: frkmgnt1
Rating: PG-13 or T (Pick your poison. No graphic anything as of Chapter 8)
Chapter 8: Dying with a Dying Fall ~7,000
Pairing: Snow/Lightning, Snow/Serah
Word Count so far ~54,000
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?)
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."
-Edmund Burke
"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it."
-Helen Keller
-Dying With a Dying Fall-
"So what's the plan, Soldier?" Sazh asks as he follows her into the broken house. She spies her pack, swipes it and begins picking through it. "You're just going to run off into the snow and face a horde of murderers by yourself?"
Lightning pauses in her perusal and sighs. That is actually pretty close to the plan. Except : "No. I was figuring that I'd steal your ride, actually."
Sazh barks out a humorless laugh. "Lone wolf again, huh?"
As if she knows any other way. She considers answering him before deciding that she's not up for a fight with Sazh. Lightning lifts Snow's bandana from the pack, stares at it a moment and feels...relieved. She strokes the material once before gritting her teeth and shoving the bandana deep into her bag.
She's ridiculous.
"Tell me something, Soldier. Didn't you learn anything last year at all?"
Lightning huffs out an irritated breath.
"I learned plenty." She pulls the drawstrings on her bag tight with a hard snap of her wrist. "I learned that everything I thought I knew...everything for my whole life - was a lie. I learned that I didn't know anything. That's what I learned."
That revelation still burns more than she'll admit.
"I learned that the majority of casualties in war are unarmed noncombatants." All those people killed in the Purge. The citizens of Palumpolum. The entire population of Gran Pulse. If Barthandelus had had his way, it would have been all of humanity as well. Instead, it was only two of her friends. It seems a small price - sacrificing Fang and Vanille for the world.
It seems a small price...but it isn't.
She's tired of sacrifices.
Lightning shifts her pack and shoulders it.
"I learned that if I wanted to change things, then I had do something. Meaning well..." she sighs, "just doesn't mean a thing. Not really." The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and so on and so forth. She gives Sazh her most level gaze. "And I learned that I'm tired of watching people - innocent people - die."
Images of Fang and Vanille flash through her mind as she speaks the word 'innocent.'
"Yeah. Well, I'm tired of watching people die too," Sazh says, rubbing his head. "And that includes you."
"I'm not going to die," Lightning states.
"Oh, so you're immortal now?" She rolls her eyes and decides that arguing is a waste of time. He's worried, and she cares too much about him to belittle him for that. Sazh seems to realize the futility of sarcasm and takes a different approach.
"Just..." Sazh's whole body radiates exhaustion and Lightning finds her determination eroding. "Let's just talk about this for a minute, alright? Figure out a plan."
"We don't have time." She's not just saying that to avoid talking (though that's part of her motivation too). Every minute is precious; there is a countdown going on and she slept through a day of it.
"Look..." Sazh says, trying to project 'reasonable' though she can tell he feels anything but. "I've been stockpiling for this occasion, Soldier. I make one call and we can wipe out those bastards. All I need is the location."
She can see the frown lines around Sazh's mouth and between his eyes. She notes the tremors rumbling beneath his skin like earthquakes. It's like there's something inside him twitching to get out.
That 'something' is too familiar: monsters beneath the skin, the desire to kill raging through him unchecked. One misstep and Sazh will disappear into his bitter hatred.
She doesn't want Sazh to become a murderer. Sazh is too good to be like her.
Besides, Fang would kick Lightning's ass for allowing Sazh to destroy himself. They'd all come too close to being monsters last year to succumb to their baser instincts now.
"You're talking about murder."
"I'm talking about survival," Sazh counters. 'This is just one outpost, Soldier. One! These people were friends. I helped them set up this outpost. Do you understand?" There's a vein bulging in Sazh's forehead. "They were good people, and we promised to protect them. Now look - just look - at what these monsters have done!"
There's so much outrage in Sazh, she wonders if it will consume him right now. She wishes that Vanille were here to talk Sazh down. She always had such a knack with him. She wishes that Snow were here to irritate Sazh out of his rage.
She wishes Snow were here for too many reasons to count.
She stalls the train of thought. She has no time to think about Snow, and no time to long for his aid. She needs to stop thinking about him forever. He's where he belongs...
And dealing with this mess is her responsibility.
"That's why you shouldn't do this Sazh. You're too close to it." Lightning knows how destructive the warpath to vengeance can be. After she lost Serah to crystal stasis, she blazed a trail of destruction across Cocoon on a suicide mission to Eden. She didn't care who or what her crusade consumed. It was only a moment of clarity, wherein she saw her own rage reflected back from Hope's face, that showed her exactly how off the rails she'd gone. Viewing her own self-destruction in the mirror of Hope's shadowed eyes snapped her out of her downward spiral faster than a bucket of ice water. Her rage dissipated, her priorities changed. That moment changed her life - saved her life.
Hope saved her life.
She knows that what she feels now is worlds away from what she felt last year. As angry as she is right now, it's anger over senseless murder. It's retribution, but not vengeance. It's justice and salvation that she longs to deliver.
She has no personal stake in this mission. It's how she knows she'll succeed.
"Damn right, I'm close to it," Sazh barks. "I've had to bury good people. Families, Soldier! I had to bury children. I had to pick pieces of them off the floor, and try not to gag on the stench. This isn't about me, it's about them. Don't dismiss this out of hand. I think I understand where you're coming from here." She raises an eyebrow at him and he deflates a bit. "I'm not willing to let more good people die just to avoid doing something...distasteful."
Right. This approach isn't working. She needs to take a different tack.
"What about the hostages Sazh?" Lightning asks. "Have you thought about what launching a full scale attack will do to them?"
Sazh nods. "I have. But they're probably already dead, Soldier."
That thought had occurred to her. "And if they're not?"
"Then they're casualties of war." He flinches as he says it. She cringes at the idea that he's this far gone.
"I'm done with casualties of war, Sazh. I'm done with acceptable losses." Lightning drops her bag and crosses her arms. "It's how I justified...everything last year. We killed so many people, and whether we meant to, or we wanted to, it really doesn't change the facts anymore." Not that it ever did.
Lightning reaches into her bag and pulls out the liquor that Fang gave her. Old Pulsian alcohol to go with old wounds. She takes a deep swallow and passes the bottle to Sazh. He looks stricken, but takes a drink.
"I did what I had to do last year, and I justified the deaths with thoughts of the 'greater good.' And maybe it was." She caps the bottle and puts it back into her bag. "But I'm done sacrificing people for the greater good. Wiping these men out in one fell swoop is definitely the smarter tactic here. I agree with you. Delaying at all risks letting them escape and regroup." Sazh leans against a wall pockmarked by gunfire, absorbs each word like a physical blow.
"I know all of these things," she continues. "I've considered them, and I've decided that I don't care. I'm not willing to sacrifice the few to save the many anymore. I'm done with compromising my humanity." It's too close to what the fal'Cie wanted-a sacrifice for the greater good. An end to suffering bought with the blood of the innocent. "I'm going to save these women. If they're still alive."
"And if they're not?" Sazh asks. He waits a beat and continues: "What about the next women, Soldier? What do we say to them if we let these animals get away?"
He's right, of course. Any future victims' blood will be on her hands; their deaths will be on her head.
She's willing to take the risk. There's no other choice for her anymore, and she doubts he'll be able to live with the guilt of killing hostages for any sort of greater good. It sounds a hell of a lot easier than it is. It should be an agonizing decision and he's made it too readily.
"I can't deal in theories or hypotheticals anymore, Sazh." Lightning lifts her bag again. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."
Sazh nods; he looks almost relieved by her decision and she's certain she's made the right one. "So what's the plan then?"
Lightning gives him her most dangerous grin. "I'm going in."
"What?" Hope yells from the doorway, startling both Lightning and Sazh. "You're not serious. You can't...I mean-"
Lightning puts her hands on Hope's shoulders and waits for him to stop sputtering. He's gone past trembling into full on shaking. She keeps her voice calm and level. "I have to, Hope. There's no other way."
"You don't know that! We haven't even had time to think of another way."
"These women don't have time for brainstorming." She considers her next words, knowing that they might backfire on her. "Every minute they're there is hell, Hope."
"And you're just going to walk in and..." he pales. "And...do you know what they're going to do to you?"
Sure she does. Or, at least, she knows what they'll try to do. Does he?
Lightning glances at Sazh for help but he shakes his head and turns away. He won't help her, but he won't to let Hope see the doubt and fear in his eyes either. They've already had this conversation, after all. Sazh blustered and cursed at her until he was stammering and red-faced. He said everything and nothing, unwilling to bring himself to talk about the torture that might befall her if her plan were to backfire.
She's not going to let Hope put words to his fears either.
"Look, Hope-"
"No. What is this about? You still looking to get yourself killed?" Hope's face is scarlet with rage. She should have expected him to throw her suicide run from last year in her face, but he catches her off guard with the accusation. She never really believed that he understood the nature of her mission then. He was so caught up in his own grief and swept up in the tornado of her rage that she really didn't think he noticed. He was just looking for someone as angry and hurt as he, someone who understood the impotence of his rage and the uselessness of his loss. Apparently, some distance, time and a bit of clarity offered him insight into Lightning's motivations.
Damn it.
Tears pool in his eyes before one does a slow crawl down his face. "I thought..."
"Hope...this isn't like...that." Her explanation is lame; she knows it is. He snorts at her and shakes his head. "It's not! These people need help, Hope. That is all this mission is about."
"I don't believe you," he huffs and storms out of the house.
She nods at the numbing hurt spreading through her. She's not surprised - not by his lack of faith, nor at her own pain in the face of it - but she's never been more certain of anything than she is in this moment. This is the correct course of action for her. She's the perfect person for this job.
She's the only person for this job.
She turns toward Sazh, finds him facing the corner staring at his feet. "So, you know the plan. You give me one day, then you launch the assault."
Sazh nods and half-turns toward her. "You sure..."
"If I'm not out in a day, I'm not getting out. And if this doesn't work..." I don't want to be left there anyway, she doesn't say.
She unbuckles her holster and places it on the ruined table. She feels more naked without her weapon than without clothing, but going in strapped defeats her objective. "I want Hope to have this if..."
"Please..." Sazh whispers and puts his hand over his face. He nods. "I'll take care of it."
"I know you will." She pulls out the knife from her birthday. Serah was so proud of this blade. So proud that she found Lightning the perfect birthday gift. Lightning smiles, thinking about her satisfaction at opening that gift. Lightning cherishes this blade; not for its beauty or utility - it has both in spades - but because of what it represents. It was a token of Serah's love, a symbol of her understanding of who Lightning was on a fundamental level.
It is also a reminder of the last day of her old life. That revelation might seem strange to other people, but that birthday marked the end of fal'Cie control over her. Lightning is still ashamed when she reflects on her behavior that day. She made Serah cry; she drove her from the house. That singular act set off a chain of events that changed the entire world. Lightning regrets her actions that day, but she doesn't regret the resolution that came because of those acts. She turned her back on the Sanctum - on her duty - and ran full tilt towards those who would destroy her sister.
This blade is a symbol of Lightning's decision to abandon duty for family, to abandon old teachings for new ideas. It is a symbol of the strength her sister gave to her; the resolve to do what was right, rather than what was easy.
It is a symbol of her sister's love, and Lightning never thought she would part with it.
Leaving it behind is harder than leaving her weapon, but the idea of it falling into enemy hands makes the decision simple. She won't have this beautiful blade used to butcher innocent people. She won't allow anyone to tarnish her knife, or desecrate what it represents.
She swallows, places the knife on the table and says, "This goes back to Serah, please."
Sazh looks pained as he nods at her request.
She pulls out the liquor and takes a whiff. Her eyes water (this is the good stuff, Fang's voice whispers) and she puts it on the table.
"This is yours," she tells Sazh. "She'd want you to have it."
Sazh looks ill. Lightning wishes this were easier, but some things need to be done, and sometimes doing those things is damn difficult.
Impossible, even.
She stares at her possessions lined up on the table. Pretty little things, all in a row. She considers that she's left nothing for Snow; decides that it's fitting. They've given each other all she'll ever allow-
/his breath on her face, his fingers on her skin/
-and shared more than they had any right to. She reaches into her pack, finds the bandana and considers leaving it behind. She looks at the now coveted blond hairs in the knot, rubs the material between her fingers, lets her fingers ghost over the flaxen hair before she stuffs the bandana into her pocket.
She is leaving behind some of her most cherished possessions. She refuses to part with this small indulgence.
It may not be right that she gets to have this token while he gets nothing, but then no one has ever accused her of an overabundance of fairness.
"Alright then." The statement is unnecessary, but she feels like someone needs a lifeline here. "I'm off."
"Hold up a second there Soldier," Sazh grabs her arm.
"Sazh..." She really wanted to avoid a big scene here. She needs all her strength for the coming battle.
"I'm changing that bandage on your hand." She narrows her eyes at him, watches him pull something out of his pocket and feels a real smile spread across her face.
"Is that-?"
"Uh-huh." Sazh says as he pulls out the medkit and holds out a hand expectantly. Snow did the same thing when she first broke her hand on his face. She shoves aside the memory of his eyes and the bruises she caused.
She wishes Snow would stop haunting her.
She sits opposite Sazh and lets him start peeling off the bandages.
"You really are a genius, you know that Sazh?" Sazh smiles as he takes out gauze, tape and splints and lays them out on the table.
"Yeah, well someone around here ought to use their damn head."
The new bandage is heavier and bulkier than the old ones, but Lightning doesn't mind at all. Her fingers are immobilized, pinky and ring finger taped together, thick padding wadded and stiff between them. The splint around them, cupping side of her hand is cumbersome, but she appreciates any extra protection to support the break.
She has a feeling she's going to need to hit people - a lot of people - and destroying her hand in the process is not an appealing prospect. She pulls on her poncho and her mittens. She shoulders her pack and walks over to Sazh.
He refuses to look at her.
"I'll see you in twenty-four hours."
"Right." The nod comes a second after the word, as if he forgot that the gesture and word are a matched set. "Sure."
"Do me a favor, Sazh." He meets her eyes.
"Anything."
"Try not to look like I'm going off to my execution." She raises an eyebrow at him, curls her lip in what she hopes is a wry look. When he snorts and looks away she figures she came close enough to her mark. She finds his fear touching and upsetting at once. She has no desire to scare him. She has no doubt that she will succeed in this mission. Failure is not an option.
"Have a little faith," she tells him.
"I've got tons of faith, Soldier. I just..." he huffs, takes a deep breath and meets her eyes. "You're right. If anyone can pull this insanity off, it's you." He holds out a hand to shake. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She shakes his hand, then leans in and gives him a hard hug. He sighs against her, claps her hard on her back.
"Take care of everyone," she whispers. He's always taken care of them. Since the minute she met him, he's been taking care of them. He's a caretaker to his very core. That is why she could never allow him to become a killer.
Killing is her domain.
"I got 'em. You just take care of you. You hear me, Soldier?"
She pulls back, turns and leaves the house. She looks around for Hope, but doesn't see him. The idea of leaving with things-wrong between them-makes her sad. She looks around, looks toward the darkening sky and sighs. She needs to leave. The cliffs along the western border of the Steppe are going to take two hours by Snow Kat. She'll have to ditch it long before that and walk the rest of the way, and she needs to get there while it's still dark.
Her plan depends on it.
She trudges through shin deep snow to the Snow Kat and opens the door.
"So that's it? You just leave?"
She huffs out a breath, tosses her bag into the passenger seat and turns to look at Hope.
"It's going to be fine, Hope."
"I'm never going to understand why you're doing this. There has to be another way."
She rubs her brow, feels the aggravation building and shoves it aside as hard as possible. They don't have time to waste on fighting.
"There might be, but I can't think of it."
"Well, you didn't give me a chance." He throws his hands up and yells, "No one has ever given me a chance."
"Hope..."
"No! My mother didn't say a word before taking that gun. She just did it...and died."
"It's not the same, Hope."
"Isn't it?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "No one told me about what was happening. About all the killings. And now you're going to go off and try and break into the camp..." he pauses, and gives her a look that fills her with dread. "I can come with you!"
"No!"
"I can help!" Hope exclaims. "I can. I'm not useless, Light."
"Wait-"
"If you don't take me with you, I'll just follow you. Just like last year. You know I will, Light. So you have to take me with you."
She grabs him by both arms and shakes him. Hard. She gives her anger its head and lets it run free. "Enough! You are not coming with me!
"But-"
"Absolutely not!" She shakes him hard enough to shut him up. "You listen to me. You are not coming with me because they will kill you!"
"Wha-"
"They'll kill you, Hope. Just like they did to all the men in this camp. Do you understand?"
"Maybe not."
"No. You're right. Maybe not." She grabs him by his soft baby-face, steels herself and says, "Maybe they'll see just how very pretty you are, and you'll get to see exactly what monsters like to do with pretty young boys. Sound like fun?"
His eyes are huge and wet. He tries to shake his head in the negative but she holds him fast. She needs to convey how serious she is right now. The idea of him following her into that death camp is terrifying. He might die. He might see. He'll never be the same if he goes there, and that's supposing he makes it out at all.
"You. Are not. Coming with me." She punctuates each word with a tighter grip on his chin. "If you come, we'll both die." He opens his mouth but she squeezes him until he winces. "I can't worry about you too. I need to be focused in there Hope. If you're in there with me, I won't be able to concentrate." She eases her grip on his face, wipes the tears pouring down his face away. "I need you to live."
"I need you to live," he echoes.
"I will." He shakes his head and closes his eyes. "Once, you believed I could do anything."
"I was stupid!"
She laughs. "You were young," she corrects. She lets go of Hope's face and starts fixing his coat. She needs something to do with her hands to still the trembling. "I need you to believe that I can do this."
"Do you?" Hope asks. She furrows her brow at him. "Do you believe you can do it?"
Does she? Does she really think that she can pull off this crazy-ass plan of hers? Or is this just another way for her to punish herself? She's honest enough with herself to recognize the possibility, but this doesn't feel like her usual brand of fatalistic masochism. This feels like self-assurance.
This feels right.
"I do," she declares and she can see him considering her. He must see the truth in her eyes, because he subsides and nods.
"You should call your sister."
It's like a gut punch. She staggers at the thought of her sister. She shudders at the idea of speaking to her.
"She's worried about you."
"Hope-"
"No. Even if you're right and everything is fine, you should still call her. I mean...just in case."
Damn it!
What the hell is she going to say to Serah? All the reasons that she left her home burst free from their prison in her mind to run amok through her thoughts with big, sloppy boots. She doesn't want to know if Snow decided to be a jackass and blow up their lives; as long as she remains out of touch, she can pretend that she isn't a home-wrecker. As long as she maintains radio silence, life back home is status quo.
As long as she doesn't know the truth, she can continue telling herself lies.
She feels a pain in her heart match the one in her head.
Hope is right. She cannot go off on such a dangerous mission without speaking to her sister. Neither can she tell her sister about said mission.
She wants to smack Hope in the head for giving her something else to worry about when she should be preparing herself for her infiltration and rescue.
She swears, quiet and colorful, before meeting Hope's eyes.
"Give me your communicator," she orders.
"Where's yours?" She gives him a look that she hopes conveys her full-body irritation at his interference in her life. From the immediate fumbling and paling, she figures she can call that one a win. Hope holds the communicator out to her and says, "Here you go."
"Yeah, thanks," she snarls and seeks some distance and privacy. She mumbles under her breath about nosy kids being more trouble than they're worth and hopes that he hears her.
She dials the code for Serah's communicator and feels her stomach flutter when she hears the tone indicating that the other end is ringing. She rubs her eyes, listens to the second ring and starts to feel calmer. She can do a message. She can tell her sister she loves her, tell her that she's doing what's right and what makes her happy, all without having to hear her sister's fear or anger. She'll get to say goodbye without having to listen to recriminations. It's a great idea! She's got the message all drafted up in her head when the ringing cuts off.
"Hello?"
Crap. "It's me."
"Claire!" The relief in her sister's voice cuts right through her. "You're alright!"
"Yeah, Serah. I'm alright."
"Oh, I'm so...I'm so happy." Serah doesn't sound happy at all. She sounds like she's crying and Lightning's own eyes sting in response. "I was so worried."
"I'm sorry." It sounds lame to her own ears. She can just imagine how pale the apology is for Serah.
"You should be! That was the stupidest thing you've ever done." Serah snaps. Then she snorts and chuckles, sniffles once and says, "But since you're okay, I'll forgive you."
Serah always forgives her too easily. Lightning doesn't deserve her. "You always do."
"What?" Lightning closes her eyes and berates herself. Something in her tone gave her away. She knew this call was a bad idea. "Claire? What's wrong? What's going on?"
It was easier to be strong and brave before she thought about her sister. Dying doesn't terrify Lightning anywhere near as much as the thought of breaking Serah's heart.
"Nothing," she lies.
"Don't lie to me," Serah insists. "I know you! Don't you think I know when something's wrong?"
Of course Serah knows when something is wrong. She's smart and sensitive, and she makes Lightning ache with pride.
"Okay." She clears the frog from her throat. "Listen, Serah. There's something I have to do. And it's a little bit dangerous." Serah starts protesting but Lightning talks right over her. "I don't want you to worry-"
"Too late!"
"-because I'll be fine." Lightning is not lying now. She believes that she will be fine, and once she disconnects this call, she has to push thoughts of her sister from her mind in order to make sure her beliefs become reality. She cannot worry about Serah and take care of herself; last year's suicide run to Eden proved just how crazy worrying for her sister makes her behave. "I'll be fine. I need you to believe me."
"What are you doing?" Serah asks. She sniffles and swallows and Lightning knows that her sister is putting on her bravest face. She can picture the downward twist and quiver of her bottom lip, the crinkle between her eyes indicative of her battle against tears. Serah clears her throat and manages to sound calm when she asks, "Can't you tell me that?"
Serah fills her with pride and shame in equal measures. Everyone who knows them believes that Lightning is the brave Farron sister, and that Serah is delicate and fragile. What none of them realize is that Serah is her anchor. Lightning would have flown apart and self-destructed after her parents died if it weren't for Serah.
Taking care of Serah is all Lightning has ever done. It's all that holds her together. Serah doesn't need Lightning anywhere near as much as Lightning needs Serah.
Serah hasn't needed her for a long while now. Lightning will need Serah until the day she dies.
"I don't..." Lightning considers the request, and starts again. "Do you really think that's going to help you? I want you not to worry about me. I need you to believe me when I tell you that I'm going to be fine."
Because if Serah doesn't believe her - believe in her - then what chance does she have?
"And you think telling me means I won't believe you." Serah pauses. "That's not very reassuring, Sis."
"I need to do this, Serah," Lightning insists. She doesn't know what to do, and she's not used to feeling indecisive. If Serah asks her not to go, she's not certain she'll have the strength to refuse her. Refusing Serah has always bordered on impossible for Lightning. "It's important. There are lives at stake."
There's a long pause; long enough that Lightning wonders if the call has dropped. Finally: "Okay. Keep your secrets if they make you feel better. But you'd better keep your promise too."
"Haven't I always?" Lightning returns then flinches.
No. She promised that she would never hurt Serah and it seems that she's always hurting her. She promised to protect her, and she drove her to the fal'Cie that long-ago day. She promised her that her life would be happy, and she stole her lover's heart.
She promised she'd always be there for her, and she ran away from their lives like some sort of thief in the night.
Serah deserves better - has always deserved better.
"Yes," Serah replies without missing a beat, tearing Lightning from her own self-flagellation. Serah's faith makes Lightning smile. "And that's why I'm going to do what you ask. I'm going to trust you'll be okay."
"Thank you," Lightning breathes and feels a thousand pound weight lift from her. "I have to go now."
"Wait! Light! About Snow..."
That thousand pound weight hits her right on her head. She's dizzy and flailing. "Serah...I can't talk about-"
"No-"
"I have to-"
"No, wait-"
"-go. I love you."
"Claire!"
Lightning disconnects the call on Serah's huff.
Smooth, Lightning. Real smooth.
That sucked, but she cannot discuss Snow with Serah. Not right now, and, if she has her way, not ever. If he opened his big, stupid mouth, she can't know it. She'll be too distracted and end up getting herself - and everyone else for that matter - killed. And if he didn't open his mouth, she'll have to listen to her sister talk about wedding plans, and extract promises from Lightning about being the Maid of Honor. The very thought makes Lightning sick for more reasons than she can possibly count.
She's a terrible person and a worse sister.
That whole conversation could have gone better. She closes her eyes, sees her sister's sad face before her and flinches. She gives her head a rough shake to abolish the image, ends up with picture of Snow on her couch, staring up at her with love and loathing in his eyes.
Of course, it could have gone worse too, she concedes.
She opens her eyes, blinks away moisture that she refuses to acknowledge, exhales a shaky breath, turns, and walks back to Hope.
He looks shifty and a tad bit satisfied. She gives him her most scathing look, waits until he deflates before showing mercy. She smirks at him, hands him his communicator and says, "Thank you, Hope."
He smiles at his feet and turns red to the tips of his ears.
She surprises them both by pulling him into a tight hug. He's grown in the past year, she realizes. Where he used to fit under her chin, he's now almost eyelevel with her. He's still too skinny by half, but that's nothing unusual on Gran Pulse. Food is harder to come by now that they have to grow it and hunt it themselves.
There's so much to do on this world. She cannot believe how much time she's wasted...
Something in her snaps.
It's enough.
It's enough berating and self-flagellation. She wasted time, but that is not a capital offense. She's tired of feeling bad about things she cannot change.
Guilt begets wallowing, which leads to inactivity which, in turn, begets more guilt. It's a pointless and irritating cycle and she's done with it. She has things to do and if she wastes time thinking about her failures, she will fail again.
She can't afford to fail. There are lives on the line here - lives other than hers.
She releases Hope, plants a soft kiss on his burning cheek, ruffles his hair once before climbing into the Snow Kat.
"Be careful, Light," he begs. She nods. She has every intention of being careful.
"See you soon," she promises.
Driving the Snow Kat is what Lightning imagines driving a dishwasher on skis would be like. The machine is bulky, awkward and lumbering; turning is a less a decision than an occupation. Going straight and holding steady is more a stroke of luck than anything. The vehicle is cumbersome: all veering jerks and hard shimmies that jar and pull at her shoulders, and set a small fire in her lower back.
It's a beautiful piece of creative technology and it makes Lightning grin.
The Snow Kat eats up the land faster than Atomos. The interior is warm and wonderful as she traverses the terrain. The snow stretches out for miles: forever, it seems. The sunset paints the world the color of blood and the sight is sickening and awesome. Red fades to blush; to purple; to blue, before the world dims. When darkness falls, the surface of Gran Pulse more closely resembles the silver of the stars in the heavens than the lush, green world she first encountered. The view through the foggy, speckled windshield, combined with the hum of the engine and the rattle of the frame is hypnotic. Lightning's mind blanks out then wanders-
/'Just once,' and then there's lips covering hers, a tongue filling her mouth, twirling, flicking, sending a jolt like electricity to her brain to ricochet down to her toes. Heat spreads sweet and sticky as jam through her whole body. Her fingers are numb where they claw and clutch. Her head spins. Her mouth tingles and she quivers when he whispers, 'Sorry' against her over-sensitized, parted lips. Then he proves he's not at all sorry by sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. He nibbles the moan right out of her, swallows it down like a thief. Her pulse quickens and her focus narrows until the entire world exists only where breath mingles and hot flesh meets.../
She shakes her head and swears aloud - at him, at herself, at the whole damn mess that the fal'Cie created.
Why did Snow have to force this issue? Things were chugging along just fine until he buckled beneath the burden. He was supposed to be strong and steadfast. He promised he would love Serah forever, and Lightning counted on his belief in his own hero persona to hold him true to his word. He never let her down before, not even when she believed - with every fiber of her being - that he would fail. He almost had her convinced that he really was the noble hero.
Then he kissed her and changed everything. One stolen moment of breath and tongue became the wrecking ball smashing their precarious world.
No matter what she does, or how hard she tries, she cannot purge the taste or feel of him from her memory. She can't forget the heat of his body, or her own desire to know the weight of it pressing onto her.
She is the worst sort of person. It was bad enough wanting this - wanting him - before she recognized the feeling as want at all. It was bad enough lusting after him when it was unconscious and disguised as discomfort. It was bad enough loving him...
She can't go there. She can never go there.
It was all terrible, but this feeling - this pining - is so much worse. It's covetous and sinful.
It's a betrayal of her beloved sister. She knows it is.
So why the hell can't she stop?
"Enough of this nonsense, Lightning." She spends the next five minutes battling with the Snow Kat - also known as 'turning' - in order to conceal it alongside the cliffs to the north. She eases the vehicle to a coast, lets it skid to a stop. She kills the engine and soaks up the remainder of the heat before the bite of the cold outside wriggles its way into the vehicle's cab.
She reaches into her pack, pulls out her communicator, turns it on and drops it onto the passenger seat. The beacon will lead Sazh right to the Snow Kat so he can retrieve it tomorrow if she doesn't make it.
She murders the thought before it has a chance to set down roots. A seed of doubt will get her killed.
She roots around in her pack for anything else she can't bear to lose. Her knuckles brush against something hard and she gropes for it, pulls it from the pouch.
Odin.
She forgot she brought Odin with her on this journey. The Eidolon is sleeping - dormant. She has no more magic, focus, brand, or power to summon it from its sleep.
Too bad. Odin might be useful on this pseudo-suicide mission.
She drops the stone back into her bag. No one will know what it is, and she can't bring herself to leave Odin behind. They've been through too much together.
She will face this trial as she faced her last one - with her Eidolon. If she is to die (don't think such things), she'll do so with her Eidolon.
She wonders when she became a sentimental ass. She thinks of blond hairs trapped in a knotted bandana and decides that Snow is to blame. Again. It seems he's to blame for all her faults, current and otherwise. Soon she'll begin rewriting her personal history in order to cast herself as a victim of Snow and his asininity.
She beats all her thoughts of Snow into submission; they'll do her no good tonight. Or ever, really, but tonight is her major concern. One misstep this night will bring death - or worse - with the sunrise.
She shivers, looks at her breath fogging up the inside of the windows, checks the sky through the side window.
Time to go.
She steps out of the vehicle into the frigid night air and marches toward destiny.
TBC...
I know. I know! Still no sign of Snow, right? Sorry. I'm working on it, I swear. Things are just taking longer to work themselves out. He'll make an appearance soon. I swears it on the precious!!!
As always, thanks for reading!
Feedback is love!