A/N: A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! I really appreciate your feedback – you guys keep me happy, and so I keep writing. :-) Without further ado, I present the second half of the chapter:

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Stage One – Nascence

Part II

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The sheets smelled of him.

Not that Lightning made a deliberate point of sniffing Hope's bed, mind you. But the spicy musk she picked up from when they'd embraced earlier lingered, unavoidable. It wasn't overpowering or subtle, just there. Now, symbolism wasn't a route she normally traversed, but in this instance she couldn't help but draw parallels to the actual person himself. For Hope had always been there, steadfast and dependable, the ever-present shadow to her blazes of action.

That wasn't to say that his scent didn't have its own merits. It was among the more pleasant body odours she'd encountered; her military background had ensured a thorough, if involuntary (and often nauseating) knowledge of such matters. Without Hope's live presence to hold her back, she allowed herself a few deep breaths, appreciating the earthy, complex notes.

His scent wasn't like Serah's, which had sweeter, mellower overtones. Nor did it resemble the sea, whose salty fragrance comprised her other favourite (non-food) smell. Yet, as the musky air swirled inside her nostrils, she felt a sense of contentment settle over her. While this didn't come as a surprise, it was uncanny that her appreciation of him would extend to his very biology itself.

It's as though everything about him was designed with my liking in mind or something.

Snorting at the fanciful thought, Lightning shifted onto her side, mind still whirring. There were more concrete things to think about, like the proposal Hope had (struggled to) put forward.

"What if we—?"

We. He and she. Together.

The more she considered it, the more appealing the idea became. It made plenty of sense from not only a practical standpoint, but also a social one (or lack thereof).

Firstly, they could share rent and expenses. Given that Hope worked in the city, and their friends lived in the countryside, the ideal relocation point would be the suburbs in between. For Lightning, this would be a beneficial move. Staying in a more populated region would improve her job opportunities and lessen commuting time (both of which presented very real problems to her at present). However, the higher accommodation prices and cost of living pushed the limits of her budget, which was where Hope's contribution came in.

Secondly, they had compatible lifestyles (something they touched on when their discussion delved into personal interests earlier). Both of them were quiet, reserved people who preferred to do their own thing. Unless she was horribly mistaken about him, there would be no forced interactions with outer circle acquaintances (read: strangers) or obtrusive loud music or bouts of drunken unruliness. If every night passed with him reading a book – or something equally introverted – while she did the same, she would be content.

Just as relevant was the fact that they clicked with each other. Should Lightning hunger for company, she wouldn't need to look any further than her housemate. Their history and the past few hours were indication enough that they could hold a conversation, and she was certain they could negotiate their way around any potential conflicts that arose. Up to and including her pricklier living habits. She would have to warn him of those, but he'd been nothing but accepting of her.

Another salient point was their lack of attachments (insofar that she knew). Surely Hope wouldn't suggest moving in together if he were involved with someone; that would be too much of an imposition. Lightning herself had no intentions for dalliances. Her disdain for stereotypical romance aside, who would have the guts to venture past her icy shields, let alone understand her well enough to embrace the pile of broken goods that she was?

Well, Hope would, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Lumina's piped up. He already does.

No, Lightning shook her head, immediately dismissing the thought. That was foreign territory she didn't dare explore. It would be stupid to jeopardise a perfectly good friendship.

She directed her mind back to the topic at hand. There was one final prospect that proved to be the most enticing of all: she no longer had to be alone. For the reasons previously mentioned, there wasn't a better candidate to fill the role of companion than Hope himself. He connected with her on a level no one else could, and she'd never felt as safe or welcome as she did in his presence. Not to mention that he was in the same situation as her – lonely and isolated – and what better way to cure that than coming together?

They were truly two peas in a pod. It would work out; she was sure of it.

Lulled by images of domestic life with her partner and his welcoming scent, Lightning closed her eyes. Sleep overtook her soon afterwards.

She presented her points to Hope over breakfast the next morning (nothing fancy; just coffee and strawberry jam on toast). He'd nodded along agreeably – not surprising, given that he'd suggested the idea in the first place – and brought up a few points of his own, but the conclusion they reached was the same. Yes, moving in together would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

"Are you sure you want to stay with me, though?" she probed, giving him a chance to back out of the decision (and hoping that he didn't). "I'm not the easiest person to live with."

"Of course I do," he asserted, favouring her with an intent look. "I wouldn't have brought it up otherwise. As for not being an easy person to live with, I have my own peculiarities as well."

"What peculiarities?"

Her partner ducked his head, sheepish all of a sudden. "I made an effort to tidy up before you came here, but I can get a bit… messy. And I get the feeling that you don't tolerate mess well."

She felt her lips tighten in a frown. While she appreciated him being considerate on this occasion, she'd have difficulty living with a full-time slob. "You'd be right about that."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers again, and she saw in their wintergreen depths a mixture of defiance and pleading. "Look, I'll endeavour to meet your standards, but I can't guarantee that all the time. You'll need to cut me some slack."

"It'll depend on how severe your mess is," she returned, recognising his efforts to come to a compromise. "I'll warn you if it gets on my nerves."

He nodded. "That's fair enough. Also, I don't have the most regular sleeping pattern." A furrow formed between his brows as he said this, betraying his concern.

"By that, you mean that I might find you wandering the house at weird hours?" She waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about that. I sleep like a log nowadays."

"Strange, I never got that impression."

"I used to sleep very deeply as a child," she elaborated. "That changed when I enlisted into the military, and while we were l'Cie, I forced myself to stay alert. Then I lost the ability to sleep altogether when I became Etro's knight, which remained the case until we were reborn. But now that I don't have to worry about being hunted down – or the world ending – I've lapsed into that one childhood habit."

"I see." Hope's demeanour shifted into one of deep relief, which was more than she expected for something so seemingly trivial. Not that it bothered her. Had he deemed further explanation necessary, he would've given it already.

Giving an internal shrug, she continued, "That said, I hope it doesn't bother you when I wake up early for my morning jog."

"How early is early?"

"Five-thirty."

A grimace twisted his handsome features. "Geez, that's positively unholy."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "You got a problem with that?"

"No, not at all," he back-pedalled, though his tone contained a hint of sarcasm, which became more pronounced with his next words. "Only an idiot would deprive you of your gruelling exercise regimen."

"If you think that's gruelling," she pointed out, unable to resist the taunt, "you wouldn't have lasted a day in drill training."

"Last I checked, you're the soldier, not me," he countered smoothly. "I'm just the nerdy sidekick. The one who, y'know, comes up with all the brilliant ideas?"

She nearly snorted into her coffee. "You flatter yourself."

"Come on, Light." There was merriment dancing in his eyes. "You gotta admit blowing up the set in Yusnaan was quite the stroke of genius."

"Flashiness, more like. I still can't believe you suggested that. I never pegged you as a fan of such wanton destruction."

"Well, it worked, didn't it? And the fireworks were spectacular. I recognised that much, even if I didn't have the capacity for full enjoyment at the time."

"We both didn't." It was a simple statement of fact, but one that hung over their heads like a black cloud. She and Hope had been God's tools back then, hearts sterile and unfeeling even as the dazzling lights shimmered above them. The rebirthing process had restored their emotions to them – something she'd accepted as a matter of course, their just reward for granting salvation to all. But were there lingering consequences to their near-godhood? What if she woke up one day only to feel nothing again?

Seized by a sudden disquiet, Lightning snatched her mug and took a noisy gulp, seeking some form of distraction.

Hope turned towards her, understanding blazing green fire in his eyes. It was completely unlike the cold, emotionless stare of his Ark counterpart, and this fact calmed her. "All the more reason to appreciate what we have now," he murmured, letting his hand drift across the table to cover hers. This time, the sizzle of contact was anything but unwelcome, forcing her to clench the handle tighter for fear that her fingers would otherwise unfurl to catch his.

"Yeah."

"Anyways, we're getting sidetracked." He brushed his thumb across her knuckles – an innocuous yet bold move – before pulling his hand away, leaving her teetering on the edge of discomfort and anticipation. "Have you considered how we'd go about doing chores?"

It took her a few seconds to register his question; so scattered were her wits. She was being ridiculous, overreacting like this. Letting out a sharp breath, Lightning put further thoughts of his touch firmly out of her mind and focussed on answering.

They resumed their discussion, which now canvassed the finer points of household duties. It boiled down to them cleaning up after themselves (laundry included) and doing whatever needed immediate attention. They would take turns cooking (or buying takeaway) and convene on weekly grocery shopping trips. Common areas like the living room and kitchen would be cleaned fortnightly (Lightning spearheaded this one), but their rooms were their own responsibility.

Satisfied that they'd sorted out an arrangement, Hope proceeded to pull up potential rental places on his laptop. Having already thought ahead – and surmised correctly that she'd agree to cohabiting with him – he'd done some research overnight. They narrowed down the list to several promising sites, but Lightning knew better than to trust the wordy descriptions and strategically angled pictures that so often featured in real estate ads. So long as the place was clean, sound of structure and designed for utility, she would be happy to settle.

"Well, if you've got no commitments for today," her partner suggested, his wintergreen eyes alit with eagerness, "why don't we have a look at some of these places?

She felt her lips quirk upwards. "Sure, why not?"

Finding a suitable home wasn't as easy as she imagined.

They'd already been through nine places (stopping over at a cafe for lunch) by late afternoon, but none of them had caught her attention. It amounted to a series of unanticipated deal-breakers: the ceiling was too low, the setup too haphazard, the kitchen space not big enough, the furnishings too 'granny-like' (that particularly offended Hope's tastes, to her snorting amusement), the lack of adequate parking space. So on and so forth. Now en route to their tenth and final inspection of the day, Lightning could no longer conceal her impatience.

"Well, that turned out to be a waste of time," she huffed, arms tightly folded.

"Don't worry, Light," her partner replied, tapping his fingers idly against the steering wheel. "I'm sure we'll come across something we like. If not today, we can organise another trip."

"Yeah. I just thought we'd have hit the right place by now."

"Fingers crossed for the lucky last one?"

Hope's relaxed attitude had remained a constant throughout the entire excursion. It showed in the calm, laid-back manner in which he drove, providing a soothing counterpoint to her nervous energy. Were it not for his company, she would've worked herself into certain aggravation by now.

Not to mention that she enjoyed seeing this side of him – the mundane, ordinary side, removed from the urgency that pervaded their interactions in the old world. It was as though she was getting to know him all over again. As the day went by, she gleaned numerous little things about him, like the fact that he shunned gardening ("not because I dislike the concept, but it says a lot when you somehow manage to kill cacti"), adored alphabet fridge magnets ("if only I had the time to build up a collection of clever phrases like that") and favoured the colour orange ("a shame it's too bright to fit in with most home décor"). These details made him more real, more solid – like his growing presence in her life – and she carefully stored them away into her mind.

Having plotted their course beforehand, they arrived at their destination within twenty minutes. The small, nondescript brick house was the final entry in a group of units, eliminating the need to maintain a front yard (which immediately earned a tick of approval from Hope). A cursory examination of the garage told her there was enough room to fit both of their cars inside, scoring another tick. As Lightning stepped past the threshold into the living room, she was gripped by a mounting sense of excitement.

The layout was both functional and compact, optimising use of the limited space. Cleaning would be a breeze with the tiled floor, and her keen eyes had yet to detect any glaring structural flaws. A small strip of lawn and accompanying pavement were all that comprised the backyard, which suited their minimal garden preferences just fine. While there was no en suite, they agreed that the larger of the two bedrooms would go to Hope (he had way more stuff than her – namely, boxes upon boxes of electronics and work materials).

Since the owners had stripped down all the furniture and decorations, they'd have to bring in their own. Not that this presented a problem, as Hope was quite happy to donate his expensive entertainment unit, among other knick-knacks. Lightning, on the other hand, had little to offer, having given away all the best items to Serah (and salvaged replacements from secondhand shops).

"It's alright, Light," Hope assured her as they examined the bathroom. "I'll gladly provide whatever we need. Or if you prefer, we can go furniture-shopping and split the cost of purchase."

"I'd like that," Lightning murmured, running a absent finger around the rim of the porcelain basin. She was quite impressed by her partner's tactfulness, to be honest. Despite her less-than-ideal financial position, she still felt the need to contribute – something he'd respected and formulated a solution around.

After they'd had their run of the house, she and Hope went on to survey the surrounding neighbourhood. Location-wise, this place couldn't be better: within walking distance from the railway station (meaning Hope could circumvent on-road traffic congestion by hopping on the train straight to work) and the local shops. There was also a nearby park that Lightning could weave into the route of her morning jog, a library further up the street, and even a gym facility.

They'd saved the best residence for last, indeed.

Now standing on the front porch, Lightning swept her gaze along the red brick walls of unit seventy-eight. What had seemed so unassuming at first glance turned out to be the perfect answer to their needs.

"This is it," she breathed, voice filled with wonder.

Hope, who stood next to her, gave a slow nod. There was a world of emotion in his wintergreen eyes. "Let's make it ours?"

"Yeah."

His arm came to rest around her shoulders, lingering even after several moments had passed. She found that she didn't mind.

"No way," Serah blurted, her already high soprano soaring into its shriller, ear-splitting ranges. "You're moving in with Hope?"

Despite the fact that her sister wouldn't be able to see it, Lightning gave an irritated frown, clutching the phone closer to her mouth. "Yes, I thought I made that clear."

"I don't think you fully comprehend the situation here," the younger Farron went on, exasperation tuning down her pitch to a more bearable frequency. "You're moving in. With Hope. And it's taken you only one night to reach this decision."

"Yes. So what? Why are you making it out to be such a big deal?"

There was a soft slap – did Serah just palm her forehead? "Geez, you can be so dense, Claire."

"If I'm that dense," Lightning couldn't prevent the grouchiness that crept up on her words, "why don't you spell it out for me?"

Her sister sighed. "Do you like him?"

That elicited an owlish blink from her. "Of course. We get along."

"Not the answer I was looking for." She could picture Serah waggling a slim finger. "Lemme rephrase that. Do you dig him? Do you think he's hot?"

Unbidden, her mind brought up fresh memories of Hope's entrancing green eyes, the warm timbre of his voice, the spicy musk that she'd found impossible to ignore. Of how solid and masculine his body had felt when he'd enfolded her into his arms, drawing her close. She immediately shut them out.

"Wha—No! We're just friends."

Serah gave a disbelieving sniff. "Just friends. Riiiiight. And you've decided to move in with him after spending one night doing nothing but talking with him."

"You make it sound so risqué," Lightning grumbled, resisting the sudden and very childish urge to stomp her foot. "We didn't do anything but talk."

"That's exactly my point!" Serah's tone had taken on a triumphant quality, like all the times she'd managed to appeal to their mother after a sisterly spat. "Since when do you make such a big decision like that so quickly?"

"I didn't see a reason not to," Lightning protested. Hesitating for a brief moment – Serah deserved to know the truth, after all – she closed her eyes and continued quietly, "Our house is so empty without you."

Her sister's demeanour switched from smug to sympathetic in an instant. "Oh, Claire. You're moving in with him because you're lonely?"

She let her eyes drift open. "Yeah. There are other reasons of course, like sharing expenses, and having similar lifestyles—"

"Claire, I can move back in with you." There was a tense, desperate edge to Serah's words.

Lightning bowed her head, sinking teeth into her lower lip. The temptation to give in to Serah's offer was overwhelming – even painful – but she couldn't allow it. That would be the height of selfishness. "No. That's not fair on you or Snow. You deserve to be happy together."

"But what about you?" her sister argued. "You deserve to be happy too! And if I'm the one responsible—"

"Serah, no." She let out a harsh exhalation, running the fingers of her free hand through her hair. "Don't make it harder than it is."

"Claire, I'm so sorry." Dismay was bleeding into Serah's voice now. "I got so caught up with being with Snow again; I—I didn't realise."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Lightning replied coolly. "I'll be fine with Hope. Really."

"I can believe that, at least," Serah said, sounding mollified. "He really cares for you, you know."

At this, Lightning found herself revisiting recent interactions with her partner. One thing was clear through it all: Hope had her best interests at heart. "Yeah, I know."

"Not to mention he's quite easy on the eyes," the younger Farron pointed out suggestively.

"Serah—" she growled, but her sister cut her off.

"Come on, Claire." There was no mistaking it; Serah had lapsed into the dreamy state that typically came with boy gossip. "You gotta admit the guy's gorgeous. And smart. And kind. I wonder how many hearts he's broken with that smile of his," she added thoughtfully; Lightning pictured fingers tapping against a tapered chin.

By contrast, she was pinching her lips together in a disapproving frown. "I thought you were marrying Snow."

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate the view," countered her sister blithely. "Besides, Snow knows he's the only one for me. And I'll bet good money that Hope would like to be yours—"

"Goddammit Serah, he and I are just friends!" she burst out. For all their differences, mulishness had to be one of the few traits that she and her sister shared.

"I don't think he wants it to stay that way."

"You don't think he wants—" Lightning snapped to a halt as her brain processed Serah's statement, "—what?"

"Claire," her sister went on, all seriousness now, "the first thing he asked when Snow and I met him was where you were. And you should've seen him on the phone with you. It was as though all the lights in the city came on in his eyes."

While Lightning knew of Serah's romantic slant when it came to viewing such matters, she couldn't deny that her sister was onto something there. "Well, he said he missed me," she admitted, thinking back on Hope's heartfelt words.

As expected, the younger Farron latched onto that tidbit like a puppy to a chew-toy. "He said that, huh? What else did he say? Or do?"

"He hugged me. When we first met."

"Please tell me you hugged him back," her sister said flatly.

"Of course," Lightning retorted as though the answer were obvious. "He was crying." Although their reunion had taken place three full days ago, the memory of it – of his tears – still yanked at her heart.

Serah was silent for a few seconds. When she next spoke, her question came out hushed. "Was he crying because he was sad, or happy?"

Lightning scrutinised the memory. While anguish had been evident in the way he'd first clutched her, the joy that radiated from his eyes afterwards was profound and unmistakable. "Both, I'd say. Apart from you, I haven't seen anyone show so much emotion towards me."

"Wow." There was undisguised awe in her sister's voice. "Coming from you, that's a loaded statement."

"Yeah."

"If I had any doubts before, they're all gone now," Serah said, the certainty in her voice building with every word. "Claire, the guy is totally in love with you."

This dramatic proclamation caused Lightning's breath to escape in a surprised rush. "Don't—don't say things like that, Serah."

"You don't... trust my judgment?" her sister asked softly. Her voice had wavered for only a fraction of a second, but Lightning caught the note of hurt within.

"It's not that," she replied, fidgeting with sudden discomfort. "Look, I'm not ready to deal with any of this. I just want my partner back."

"You have him. All of him, if I'm not mistaken."

She had to stamp down the urge to tear through her hair again; it was probably quite mussed by now. "Serah, will you let up for just one second?"

Her sister huffed. "Alright. But you can't keep running away. Especially now that you'll be living with him."

"I know."

"Well, if you wanna talk about it – or him – I'm only a call away." It seemed that the younger Farron couldn't resist one final attempt at meddling.

Lightning rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the offer."

"Hey, that's what a good younger sister does, right?" Serah returned cheerfully, not the least put off by her sarcasm. "Play matchmaker to their grumpy, relationship-avoiding older sis?

"At least you admit it."

"I only want you to be happy, Claire," her sister declared, whiplashing back to a serious mood once more.

Recognising the opportunity to deflect attention, Lightning responded in kind, "The same goes for you, Serah."

"I'm plenty happy as is," her sister countered, belligerent. "I have you, and Snow, and all our friends. I'm gonna get married, and I'm on my way to becoming a teacher again. My life is set." Her voice took on a pleading note. "Why don't you start thinking about yours for a change?"

The question took Lightning aback. "I…" she tried, but couldn't muster the words. What could she say? Having dedicated her entire life to caring for Serah's welfare, she knew no other course of action.

"Claire, you really are your own worst enemy, sometimes." Serah sounded sad and exasperated at the same time.

"Hmph."

"There you are, giving me that huff again." Although the pose was impossible to pull off while talking into the phone at the same time, she could imagine Serah with hands on hips. "You know I'm right."

Unable to argue that point, Lightning fell back on a stock excuse. "Some things are easier said than done."

Her sister remained unswayed. "Just promise me you'll try, okay?"

"Fine," Lightning sighed, resigned. "I'll try."

"Thank you, Claire." Serah gave a sigh of her own, before continuing in warmer, gentler tones, "You know I love you with all my heart, don't you?"

Yeah, except for the part Snow stole away with his cheer and optimism and all the things I couldn't give you, Lightning thought with more forlornness than resentment. Now you no longer need me. "I know. Love you too."

They talked late into the afternoon. After confirming Serah and Snow's availability to assist with moving day, she ended the call and sank back into her well-worn armchair, mind abuzz with thought. It was nearing dinnertime, but she couldn't summon the will to get up and scrape something together from the meagre contents of her fridge. Instead, she turned over her conversation with Serah. Reluctant though she was to contemplate her sister's deductions about Hope, Lightning found herself doing that very thing.

Despite her inexperience – becoming Serah's full-time carer had left little time for her own pursuits, let alone relationships – she was no stranger to the matters of romance. Although couple-watching could hardly be described as her favourite hobby, she'd observed enough things to recognise what was taking place. Not to mention that she'd had her share of run-ins being the object of lust. (Many of those were resolved in a less-than-diplomatic fashion, but there had been several times – in both old and new pasts – where she'd exploited the situation to sate her own needs, however fleetingly.)

Now that Serah had brought it to her attention, she couldn't help but reinterpret Hope's (recent) behaviour. What she had initially dismissed as friendly overtures took on a different meaning. Come to think of it, his body language was that of an interested man. His gaze was piercing yet tender whenever it landed upon her, and while he'd never touched her in an inappropriate manner, it left her with the impression of terrible restraint. He also leaned towards her when she spoke, as though he were listening intently to every little thing she had to say. And she didn't miss his tendency to linger nearby either, situating himself as close as possible yet just far away enough as not to intrude on her personal space.

Most telling of all was the way he'd acted when suggesting to move in together. Even as he choked on his words and retreated immediately afterward, his hands had grasped hers for that one, poignant moment, giving him away. She'd supposed his reservation stemmed from not wanting to appear pushy – it was a big decision to make after all – but perhaps it was forwardness that he sought to avoid?

Putting these signs together made Serah's conclusion all the more obvious. Could her sister be right? Could Hope really be in love with her—?

No, she didn't want to consider the possibility. She didn't dare. It presented a veritable minefield of questions – how, when, what to do about it – that she was unwilling to examine at this point in time. They'd only just met each other as their true selves; couldn't she simply enjoy his company without this complication hovering over their heads?

Determined to make dinner all of a sudden, Lightning leapt up from her seat and strode into the kitchen. But the idea – that Hope nurtured feelings for her – had already taken root, and it sprouted in a dark corner of her mind, slowly but surely pervading her thoughts.

A/N: Serah has dropped the bombshell and set the cogs in motion. Now Lightning finds herself in denial. She is – as her sister puts it – so frustratingly (and wonderfully) dense.

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