A/N: Thank you for all the feedback you've provided so far, dear readers! I thrive on your encouragement. :-)

As for why Lightning came to be chosen as Hope's handler, all revelations will be made in due course.

Now, I bring you the moment you've all been waiting for: Lightning meets Hope for the first time. Sit back and enjoy the momentary fireworks. I wouldn't say I'm overbold with my strokes at this point in time, but there's a reason why the genre is labelled 'romance' ;-)

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part ii – first encounter

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No. XXVII had the most expressive eyes Lightning had ever come across.

Right now, they were staring at her, corners stretched wide and wintergreen irises sparkling under the arch of silver brows. There was a maelstrom of emotion in them: surprise first and foremost, followed by curiosity, then wonderment. This sight entranced her, reeled her in like the inexorable pull of lodestone to magnet. Never before had she seen – let alone been the subject of – such an uninhibited display of interest, not from human, creature or cyborg alike.

Which made it all the more remarkable. l'Cie weren't known for their emotional capacity. Whatever semblance they fabricated within the constraints of their programming was just that: a semblance. However, No. XXVII's emotion was tangible – real – even through the glass and many litres of isotonic saline that separated them.

It – no, he; Lightning couldn't conceive of this expressiveness as something that came from a genderless, impersonal object – planted his feet on the base of the enclosure and inched his head forward, searching her face. Then his too-intense eyes travelled up and down her form, and she couldn't help but feel naked under their scrutiny. But there was nothing calculative about the way they studied her, only a singular, all-consuming fascination.

For No. XXVII looked at her as though she were the most wondrous thing he'd ever seen. As though the world, as he knew it in this very moment, comprised of her and only her.

Her nerves snapped taut when she caught sight of another movement. The l'Cie had raised his right hand and splayed his fingers against the glass, as if trying to reach her. The vulnerability of the gesture made her breath catch in her throat, and Lightning found herself drawn further into the spell of enthralment that had surrounded them both. It was with an immense effort that she kept her arms still, forcing down the sudden compulsion to mirror his actions.

Then his lips moved, and she watched, mesmerised, as they formed shapes of words she recognised.

Are you her? My handler?

Before Lightning could muster any kind of response, the spell was broken by a muffled whoosh of liquid being sucked away. The water level of the tank dropped, first exposing No. XXVII's head to the air, then his shoulders and torso. He blinked several times, causing a film to slide back from his eyes. (This, Lightning knew from examining other l'Cie, was a second eyelid, functioning as a pair of retractable goggles. In the event that No. XXVII found himself underwater, it would accommodate the difference in optical refraction, while doubling as a protective layer.)

After a minute or so, the saline had drained completely, leaving No. XXVII standing in a web of wires. Said wires fell away from his body along with their electrode attachments, withdrawing into compartments within the walls. No passive participant himself, No. XXVII reached up and hooked his fingers around his breathing tubes, removing them in a fluid, practised motion. From that demonstration, it was clear that he'd done this many times.

He repeated the process with the venous catheter embedded in his right hand, wincing ostensibly as he drew out the device and no small amount of crimson fluid along with it. This surprised her. Not the blood; l'Cie were equipped with circulatory systems several models ago, and Lightning had seen her fair share of mangled biomechanical parts. However, the fact that No. XXVII could experience pain was disquieting, as was the fact that his pain threshold wasn't adjusted for higher tolerance. (While other l'Cie had feedback mechanisms for damage assessment, those weren't set up to be debilitating to the user. She supposed that in No. XXVII's case, the designers forwent practicality in pursuit of realism instead.)

Her brief musings were interrupted by a burst of unearthly static – an amplified version of the tingle that emanated from the tank before. That was the telltale sign of live magic being cast, which made No. XXVII the lone perpetrator.

Ignoring the chill slithering down her spine, Lightning watched as the l'Cie brought his left hand over his right, covering the small puncture left by the catheter's removal. His brows furrowed in concentration, and the eye of his brand emitted a red glow, making it look more demonic than it already did.

The deed was done within a matter of seconds. A satisfied gleam in his eyes, No. XXVII pulled his hand away. This revealed the skin underneath to be unmarred save for residual encrusted blood, which he scraped off and dusted aside.

So, the l'Cie had healed himself.

Now, Lightning had witnessed many instances of magic use, but none without official clearance – which this clearly was. Nor had she witnessed it done in so casual – or dare she say it, frivolous – a manner, even with injury (and a superficial one, at that) compelling the action.

Bewildered, she directed a questioning glance towards Zaidelle, but the scientist's unchanging look told her that this was no unusual occurrence. Perhaps No. XXVII had a special sanction to cast at all times, as he saw fit? Nevertheless, while l'Cie of the Medic class had more autonomy in that regard (due to the non-lethality of their spells), a blanket sanction was unprecedented. Unheard of.

At last, Lightning was beginning to appreciate how exceptional of a l'Cie No. XXVII was. And this, combined with the swiftly coalescing reality that she was now responsible for him, intimidated her beyond anything she'd ever faced.

She did not let her feelings show as the glass wall slid back, prompting her to retreat a few metres back and allow No. XXVII space to step out of the tank. He did so, his movements smooth and co-ordinated, his bare feet settling on the drying mat placed there for that very purpose. Now that they stood on level ground, she noticed he was slightly above average height for an adult male: a few inches taller than her not-insubstantial five-foot-seven.

Wintergreen eyes roved about, seeking out her storm-blue ones. Having taken a momentary detour to tend to his now-mended injury, No. XXVII's attention had shifted back to her once more. Either he was too intrigued by her presence to spare any thought for his nudity, or the concept didn't register at all (she suspected the latter).

On her part, Lightning refolded her arms and tried very hard not to look down.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she never heard his next words. It was in that moment that Zaidelle stepped into view, re-commanding his attention. His gaze brightened in recognition upon seeing the scientist – no doubt a familiar figure to him – and a smile blossomed upon his full lips. The expression transformed his face, bringing life into his synthetic, inhumanly perfect features. Then it clicked what Zaidelle had meant by that off-beat remark earlier.

No. XXVII truly was beautiful.

"Hi there, Dr. Alyssa," he called out to the scientist, giving a friendly little wave. His voice was as gorgeous as the rest of him, a soft, melodious tenor that resonated with warmth.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Hope," returned Zaidelle, flashing her teeth at the l'Cie. The disparity between this amiable, almost playful demeanour and the condescending one Lightning faced earlier was startling, to say the least. "Had a good nap?" She approached him, a towel draped across her outstretched arm.

He relieved Zaidelle of her fluffy burden with a quiet, if heartfelt thank you. "Yes, it was quite refreshing."

Unfolding the towel, he threw it over his head with the clear intention of drying his hair. Before he could so much as proceed, the scientist forestalled him with her next statement.

"That's meant for your hips." Zaidelle's delivery was deadpan, but the twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement. When No. XXVII continued to look at her, befuddled, she jerked her head in Lightning's direction. "See our newcomer over there? She's the one you've been waiting for. You should go introduce yourself. Decently," she chided, her gaze flicking pointedly to his lower body.

No. XXVII took the cue and looked down, then back at Zaidelle and finally Lightning. With a soft oh of realisation, he tore the towel from his head and wrapped it around his waist with supreme haste. Pink crept into his cheeks, suffusing his pale skin with a healthy dash of colour.

His mortification was short-lived though, cast aside in his palpable, if restrained excitement to meet the newest person in the room. Hands clasped together in the very picture of earnestness, the l'Cie walked up to Lightning, stopping a respectable half-metre away.

"Umm, I'm Hope," he greeted, clearly nervous. However, his confidence was quick to build, gaining momentum with every word he spoke. "Please forgive my lack of modesty; it's a concept I'm still getting used to. May I know your name?"

Disarmed by the eager sparkle in his eyes, Lightning gave out her full name instead of the later half by which she typically had others address her. "Lightning Farron."

"Lightning," he repeated, trying out the disyllable word. The resulting sound – rough with novelty yet unexpectedly intimate at the same time – sent a frisson through her. "It's obvious from your being here, but I still feel the need to ask… Are you my handler?" He gave her a tense, anticipatory look, as though he yearned with all his artificial heart for her to declare the affirmative.

Lightning saw no reason to deny him. "Yes," she replied, watching as he swelled with that simple confirmation only to deflate with her next words. "But I only learned of this since an hour ago."

"I see." His wintergreen eyes had grown wide with bewilderment, as though he'd expected something different. "So this is completely new to you?"

She shrugged. "Unfortunately. You'll have to excuse me if I come across as an ignorant blockhead."

Her blasé response was a guise, something behind which to conceal her uncertainty about the situation. But No. XXVII – Hope – did not react with any animosity, instead presenting the very opposite.

"I guess that makes two of us," he offered, sympathy crinkling his eyes and turning up the corners of his mouth. Again, Lightning was struck by the beauty of his smile, her heart flip-flopping inside her chest in a most uncharacteristic fashion. "I'm new to the handler business myself. Though, to be fair, I had more warning."

"You were expecting me? Me, specifically?"

The l'Cie drew the knuckles of his right hand up against his lips, pondering her question. "Maybe?" he admitted, head tilted in a quizzical manner. "What I knew was that my handler would be a pretty young lady with rose-coloured hair, and that she would be coming today. And now here you are," he carried on in awed tones, his hands reaching out for an instant as though wanting to grasp hers, before he caught himself and stilled them. (Were it not for the fact that her arms were still crossed, perhaps he would've completed the gesture.) "I'm so glad to finally meet you."

She looked away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze – much less the sheer, inexplicable delight within it. "But you don't know anything about me."

"That can be changed, can't it?"

His question, posed rhetorically as to leave no room for other than one answer, made Lightning pause. However, instead of arriving at the outcome he'd intended, she found herself drifting down a dark mental spiral. Unbeknownst to him, they'd touched upon the matter of her (nonexistent) self-worth.

You wouldn't want to know anything about me, Hope. There is nothing inside this empty shell called Lightning Farron, only misery and blood and ashes.

Swift as her thoughts had strayed, she was pulled back into reality by Hope's soft utterance of her name. "Lightning?"

"Sorry," she recovered, shaking her head. Not wanting to explain the reason behind her momentary distraction, she proceeded to turn the focus onto him. "But honestly, I'd rather learn about you, Hope. It must be fascinating, being the first self-aware cyborg ever – and a l'Cie, on top of that. I'll bet you get all kinds of preferential treatment," she added lightly, arching an eyebrow for effect.

Hope rose to the bait, his beautiful features knotting in indignation. "I know I do, but putting it that way makes it sound as though I asked for it," he protested. "Which is assuredly not the case. The complications of my existence demand that I—"

"Easy there," she interjected, opting to nip his burgeoning snit in the bud. "I was only teasing."

He blinked. "That's teasing?"

"Another new concept to you?"

"Relatively speaking, yes," he expounded, spreading his palms. "There are many nuances to human communication, and while I understand the theory behind them, it does not compare with going through the live experience."

So Hope was like a newly fledged bird, stretching out his metaphorical wings into the real world for the first time. The mental image brought a wry quirk to Lightning's lips. "Looks like I'm not the only one with a lot to learn, huh?" she quipped.

The l'Cie dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Perhaps we can help each other out in that regard? As learning partners?" he suggested, hands clasped together once more and expression alit with his namesake.

It seemed that babysitting a nascent AI would comprise yet another of her handler duties. Although this was implicit in the standard task of observe and report, she hadn't expected something quite so experimental in nature, or that which would demand more than strict professional involvement. One of many things they'd left out in the job description.

Yet somehow, looking into Hope's earnest green eyes, Lightning didn't feel as perturbed by this fact as she normally would have.

"Hmm. I wouldn't mind that."

At her reply, another smile broke out on Hope's face, radiant with combined joy and excitement. All of it directed at her. Faced with such powerful, unguarded emotion, Lightning couldn't do anything more than stare back, rendered silent by the sudden, overloud thumps of her heart against her ribcage.

Then a click came out of nowhere, startling her out of her reverie. "Well, it seems like you two are getting along splendidly without me," announced the sharp voice of the otherwise forgotten Zaidelle. She approached them, a sturdy-looking box nestled into the nook of one arm.

"Dr. Alyssa!" yelped Hope, swerving around to face the scientist. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to leave you out of our conversation."

Zaidelle dismissed his apology with an airy wave of her free hand. "It's fine. That was… quite interesting to watch. Now that introductions are out of the way, let's get on with the imprinting process."

She flipped back the box lid, drawing everyone's attention to the contents. Inside sat a pair of asymmetric silver cuff-like devices, one larger and more intricate than the other. Lightning recognised them as manalinks, whose purpose – as their name suggested – was to forge a metaphysical connection between users, with the control heavily weighted towards one user. Insofar that she knew, they were worn by l'Cie and their handlers on the field, allowing the latter to direct the casting of magic. However, given that Zaidelle had brought them in today, they must have other uses outside a combat situation.

"Hope, Handler Farron," said Zaidelle in a tone that brooked no argument, eyeing each of them in turn. "Take each others' hands. Left ones, mind. Physical contact is required for this."

Obediently, Hope stepped forward and extended his hand towards Lightning. She observed it for a moment, noting the long, elegant fingers and well-trimmed nails, before raising her own.

Then their palms touched, triggering a reaction unlike anything Lightning could ever have anticipated. It felt like she'd been struck by her namesake, electricity sizzling up her arm from the point of contact. Judging by his widened eyes and parted lips, Hope was experiencing the same. But while the l'Cie's shock showed plainly on his face, Lightning did her best to conceal hers. It appeared she hadn't managed the feat in its entirety though, if the shrewd glint in Zaidelle's gaze was any indication.

Satisfied with her subjects' compliance, the scientist set the box on the ground, then retrieved the manalinks within. She fitted the larger of the pair over Hope's wrist, which conveniently covered his brand. The smaller counterpart went onto Lightning's corresponding wrist.

"Hope, cast Libra on her."

Hope obeyed with a nod. Again, the air was bathed in unearthly static, which in Lightning's case, was accompanied by a full-bodied, prickling sensation as he ran the diagnostic magic through her. Rings of glowing silver glyphs enveloped her figure, spelling out her vitals in a language that only he could interpret.

"As you are already aware," Zaidelle droned by way of explanation, producing a handheld device from her pocket and typing out a series of codes on its keypad, "all lifeforms inherently generate and emit mana, albeit in small quantities. Hence they produce a unique mana signature – what we describe as a 'resonance signal'. I'm calibrating Hope to yours. Should you two ever get separated, he'll be able to locate you within two hundred metres. Vice versa if you have these equipped, which also extends the range to the five-hundred metre limit."

Silence descended after that, a minute or so passing with nothing but the warmth of their prolonged handshake, which was largely overidden by the uncomfortable thrum of magic. Hoping that the process wouldn't last much longer, Lightning tamped down the impulse to fidget, limiting her movement to shifting her weight from foot to foot. After what felt like an eternity, the prickling sensation dissipated along with the glyphs, and she suppressed a sigh of relief.

"There, all done."

Cool as water, Zaidelle tucked away the handheld device, then unbuckled the manalinks from Hope's and Lightning's wrists. Bending down, she proceeded to pack them back into their box.

"Hope, there's another towel and a set of clothes on the bed." From her crouched position on the floor, the scientist jerked her head towards said piece of furniture, where the aforementioned items lay. "I shouldn't have to remind you again, but please make sure you're dressed before exiting the premises. We don't need another occasion with you scandalising important visitors, do we?"

"No, Dr. Alyssa, we do not," Hope mumbled, ducking his head as a blush spread across his face – rather prettily, Lightning may add.

"Luckily for you, your handler is made of sterner stuff," returned Zaidelle blithely as she snapped the box lid shut, engaging the lock with a click. She then rose to her feet. "Now, I'll leave you two to get better acquainted. If you'll excuse me."

Seizing the handle, the scientist hefted the box up and strode towards the exit. She pressed a button on the wall, and the double doors parted to let her through. The last Lightning glimpsed of her was the tail of her white lab coat before it fluttered out of view. Then the doors slid shut again with a resounding thud of finality, leaving Lightning alone in the room with Hope.

Her new l'Cie.

A/N: So, what are your thoughts on Cyborg!Hope? I wanted him to retain his character from the games, along with the expected innocence and obliviousness that would stem from his isolated origins. Obviously he's not going to stay innocent or oblivious for long. Remember, reviews keep me going!