Formatting is the devil. Also, new fic.
10 drabbles, which technically could stand alone but are tied together. It's called "Like Sisters", which is my pretentious reference to the way 'like' used to be used as 'alike' currently is, only with slightly different grammatical rules. It's also intended as a deliberately unhelpful description of their relationship. "They" being Lightning and Serah Farron from Final Fantasy XIII, and "Like Sisters" is an accounting of their relationship from small childhood to Lightning's twenty-first birthday, with emphasis on their time as each others' only family. I'm kind of proud of it. Be aware, though: death of parents (as in canon), mentions of sexual harassment and alcohol abuse, and spoilers for Lightning's real name and the events of her birthday. Originally posted to ff_fortnightly.
Childhood
When they were little, they never played house.
For one thing, house required a mom and a dad and some kids, right? And Serah didn’t want to be the mom. Of course, it wasn’t long before they found out that families happened with a few pieces missing, but they knew they shouldn't talk about it.
And besides, who wanted to play boring old house when they could rid the living room of Pulsian attackers, or explore the untamed wilderness of inner Cocoon under the kitchen table, or fight fearsome l’Cie Eidolons with a marked resemblance to the old overstuffed chair?
Consolation
When Serah was twelve, Claire told her that they could share their parents’ bed for a while if she wanted. The younger girl was never sure if that was an offer or a request, and she didn’t ask.
Serah was a dreadful blanket thief, and Claire snored like a Behemoth, but the nights were silent and still for most of that summer. She moved back to her own room when school started again, but Claire stayed put. They turned her old room into a sort of study, rearranged the living room, and locked the door to their parents’ old den.
Aging
“I won’t be starting school with you, just so you know.”
“You found a full-time job?” That was a relief. Money was running low.
“Yes. The Guardian Corps are recruiting again.”
Less of a relief.
“But -”
“The pay’s good, and I need a job. You know that.”
Serah sighed, fiddling with her hair.
“Um. I signed up under the name Lightning.”
“What? Why?”
“I didn’t want my old school records showing up if anyone ran a search.”
“But -”
“I have to seem like a soldier.”
Serah nodded, thinking of the art awards and the gardening club. Made sense.
Acceptance
Serah was, by now, old enough to hear some of the whispers about Claire (oh, fine, Lightning). She didn’t really pay much attention, but she did hear them. So, when she asked Claire if there were any cute boys in the regiment and her sister looked at her as if - as if she’d started speaking Pulsish, she could make a few guesses about the explanation. Well, okay then.
She made a mental note to ask her history teacher if anyone knew what language they actually spoke on Pulse, and whether it was actually called “Pulsish.” Maybe she could learn it.
Cooking/Dining
The first time Claire - The first time Lightning got a paycheck, she smiled.
Serah blinked several times before she asked if there was any news.
They went out for dinner that night. It was a little place, not too expensive, but delicious in a greasy, salty way. And they had cookies bigger than her hand.
They also offered takeout, and Claire - Lightning made sure to get the number “so you don’t have to cook all the time.” (Claire - Light was way too tired to cook when she got home, most of the time.)
Serah hid the card. She could cook.
Domesticity
Evenings were nice.
Cl - Lightning came home tired, but usually in a good mood, and even when it was a rough day, it didn’t usually take long for her to relax. The house always smelled of baking bread or hot soup by the time she walked in the door, and they’d talk for a bit over dinner. Afterward, Lightning would watch the news from the couch while Serah did her homework on the coffee table. Sometimes Serah would put on some music too. It was always cozy.
Of course, eventually Light started working longer shifts, but it couldn’t be helped.
No dialogue
When Serah was fourteen, she started wearing pants.
Lightning didn’t ask why, and Serah didn’t bring it up. Her sister didn’t need to worry about her drama.
Besides, it wasn’t like he’d ever actually tried to hurt her. She could handle a few comments here and there. He was only joking around; he was mostly a pretty decent guy. Everyone said so. Besides, she could always tell a teacher if it got too bad.
And in the meantime, maybe she’d be able to juggle some more advanced classes after all. (They were held on the other side of the building.)
Intoxication
Serah found the vodka in the back of the cupboard when Lightning was eighteen, a few weeks after the squad transfer. A few days later, she looked at it again, or what was left of it.
She dumped half of it down the drain and topped it up with water. If Lightning noticed, she never said.
It became part of her routine. Get home from school, search the house, and water down whatever she found before getting on with the afternoon.
After about six months, she stopped finding anything, but she kept a close eye on her sister after that.
Cleaning up
When Serah was almost sixteen, the kitchen exploded.
Okay, that wasn’t entirely accurate. The pipes had apparently been leaking into the ceiling for months, and had finally snapped, bringing the rotten ceiling down along with a spectacular deluge of water, shorting out the stove in the process.
Serah hadn’t realized she knew so many ways of cursing something into oblivion.
“How much is it going to cost to fix this?” Serah wailed when Lightning got home and found her knee-deep in the wreckage of her kitchen.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But -”
“Really, don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.”
Anger
When Lightning was twenty-one (just barely), they had their first real fight since their mother died.
In the past six years, they’d never argued. Not really. They’d snapped at each other sometimes, and Lightning had left for work a little early on occasion, and once in a while Serah had locked herself in her room and massacred her bedding, but never a blown-out fireworks display.
Lightning was getting stiffer and colder with every word of explanation, and before she even opened her mouth Serah knew that the response would not be what she and Snow hoped.
It wasn’t.
She ran.
Childhood
When they were little, they never played house.
For one thing, house required a mom and a dad and some kids, right? And Serah didn’t want to be the mom. Of course, it wasn’t long before they found out that families happened with a few pieces missing, but they knew they shouldn't talk about it.
And besides, who wanted to play boring old house when they could rid the living room of Pulsian attackers, or explore the untamed wilderness of inner Cocoon under the kitchen table, or fight fearsome l’Cie Eidolons with a marked resemblance to the old overstuffed chair?
Consolation
When Serah was twelve, Claire told her that they could share their parents’ bed for a while if she wanted. The younger girl was never sure if that was an offer or a request, and she didn’t ask.
Serah was a dreadful blanket thief, and Claire snored like a Behemoth, but the nights were silent and still for most of that summer. She moved back to her own room when school started again, but Claire stayed put. They turned her old room into a sort of study, rearranged the living room, and locked the door to their parents’ old den.
Aging
“I won’t be starting school with you, just so you know.”
“You found a full-time job?” That was a relief. Money was running low.
“Yes. The Guardian Corps are recruiting again.”
Less of a relief.
“But -”
“The pay’s good, and I need a job. You know that.”
Serah sighed, fiddling with her hair.
“Um. I signed up under the name Lightning.”
“What? Why?”
“I didn’t want my old school records showing up if anyone ran a search.”
“But -”
“I have to seem like a soldier.”
Serah nodded, thinking of the art awards and the gardening club. Made sense.
Acceptance
Serah was, by now, old enough to hear some of the whispers about Claire (oh, fine, Lightning). She didn’t really pay much attention, but she did hear them. So, when she asked Claire if there were any cute boys in the regiment and her sister looked at her as if - as if she’d started speaking Pulsish, she could make a few guesses about the explanation. Well, okay then.
She made a mental note to ask her history teacher if anyone knew what language they actually spoke on Pulse, and whether it was actually called “Pulsish.” Maybe she could learn it.
Cooking/Dining
The first time Claire - The first time Lightning got a paycheck, she smiled.
Serah blinked several times before she asked if there was any news.
They went out for dinner that night. It was a little place, not too expensive, but delicious in a greasy, salty way. And they had cookies bigger than her hand.
They also offered takeout, and Claire - Lightning made sure to get the number “so you don’t have to cook all the time.” (Claire - Light was way too tired to cook when she got home, most of the time.)
Serah hid the card. She could cook.
Domesticity
Evenings were nice.
Cl - Lightning came home tired, but usually in a good mood, and even when it was a rough day, it didn’t usually take long for her to relax. The house always smelled of baking bread or hot soup by the time she walked in the door, and they’d talk for a bit over dinner. Afterward, Lightning would watch the news from the couch while Serah did her homework on the coffee table. Sometimes Serah would put on some music too. It was always cozy.
Of course, eventually Light started working longer shifts, but it couldn’t be helped.
No dialogue
When Serah was fourteen, she started wearing pants.
Lightning didn’t ask why, and Serah didn’t bring it up. Her sister didn’t need to worry about her drama.
Besides, it wasn’t like he’d ever actually tried to hurt her. She could handle a few comments here and there. He was only joking around; he was mostly a pretty decent guy. Everyone said so. Besides, she could always tell a teacher if it got too bad.
And in the meantime, maybe she’d be able to juggle some more advanced classes after all. (They were held on the other side of the building.)
Intoxication
Serah found the vodka in the back of the cupboard when Lightning was eighteen, a few weeks after the squad transfer. A few days later, she looked at it again, or what was left of it.
She dumped half of it down the drain and topped it up with water. If Lightning noticed, she never said.
It became part of her routine. Get home from school, search the house, and water down whatever she found before getting on with the afternoon.
After about six months, she stopped finding anything, but she kept a close eye on her sister after that.
Cleaning up
When Serah was almost sixteen, the kitchen exploded.
Okay, that wasn’t entirely accurate. The pipes had apparently been leaking into the ceiling for months, and had finally snapped, bringing the rotten ceiling down along with a spectacular deluge of water, shorting out the stove in the process.
Serah hadn’t realized she knew so many ways of cursing something into oblivion.
“How much is it going to cost to fix this?” Serah wailed when Lightning got home and found her knee-deep in the wreckage of her kitchen.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But -”
“Really, don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.”
Anger
When Lightning was twenty-one (just barely), they had their first real fight since their mother died.
In the past six years, they’d never argued. Not really. They’d snapped at each other sometimes, and Lightning had left for work a little early on occasion, and once in a while Serah had locked herself in her room and massacred her bedding, but never a blown-out fireworks display.
Lightning was getting stiffer and colder with every word of explanation, and before she even opened her mouth Serah knew that the response would not be what she and Snow hoped.
It wasn’t.
She ran.