A/N: This really is the end, folks. I've had a blast, both in the story writing and the reading of your many reviews, and I hope this epilogue rounds everything out. I'd decided on a different sort of "letters" format for this installment from the get-go, as you'll see :) Definitely let me know what you think! I do consider the chapter a shout-out to the canon epilogue, which I did not prefer.

I'll leave you with a few helpful notes:

- "Lining out" is the proper way to correct entries in a watch log. It requires use of a straight edge and the correcting person's initials after the change. This procedure is really reserved for official entries only, so I brought it out here as a nerd-jab at Lightning. The original draft had actual strikes through the words she lined out, but formatting on site got rid of that :( So in Lightning's first letter, be aware that [underlined words followed by 'LF'] were actually strike-throughs, as if she marked them out. No other letters have this issue.

- TBD: To Be Determined

- FYSA: For Your Situational Awareness

Thank you all, again, for your encouragement, your support, and just for reading!

Epilogue: Severance

'Light,

Did we ever talk about how boring some people can be? Centuries of experience can't seem to fix it, either. Take the same man who likes to talk about the biggest fish he ever caught, let him live a few lifetimes, and he will still talk your ear off about his ridiculous, exaggerated catch of the year. Only now, it's become the catch of the millennium.

I say that because tent talk is making my version of crazy feel sane! Goddess, I miss you. Probably should have led with that line. The only remarkable thing I've heard in weeks is news that the rail line will reach our post in a few days – the first chance we'll have to send mail! Forgive my rambling, I just have too much pent up to say coherently.

You want facts, I'm sure. Best place to start! Our little team made slow progress through the fall, but enough to settle in to a decently shielded canyon for winter. Views remind me of the Archylte Steppe – do you remember the rainstorms there? Striking resemblance (pun definitely intended). I can see the basic design principles behind every new landscape, and it's thrilling but still a little scary.

They haven't figured out yet that I steered them straight to three coal deposits thus far. The boots-on-ground view is more precarious to navigate than any mental map, though! How did you get so good at it?

Why did I never ask you? I should have. You navigated us out of a thousand tricky situations and more. Feel free to slap some sense into me when I get home.

And I'm sorry about that, too. I still don't know how long this excursion is going to take. I actually do think about you every half-waking minute and most waking, give or take a few of the ones requiring exceptional concentration or a fight-or-flight response (though some of those tend to conjure you up as support).

Unfortunately, I've got limited paper and lamplight, so this will have to do. Wish I could have said a hundred times more. I'd give anything for a kiss. It's all I wanted for my birthday last month (seventeen's nothing special, but isn't thirty supposed to be a big deal?). Maybe you can save one for me. Hopefully you don't hate me yet, so I will count the days until I get a letter. Please let the others know I'm fine – looking forward to updates on them!

Yours,

Hope

P.S. I'm writing another right-handed message on the back for Yeul to validate; this time I wrote the translation, but you don't have to take my word. (Yes, Bhunivelze's still a cocky bastard. But I think the fact that he's moved from demands to questions is a step in the right direction. Oh, and he was talking to you. Sorry again, in retrospect.)

Lightning frantically flipped the paper over. She suddenly released her breath in a long whoosh, not even realizing she'd been holding it for the past minute. An icy wind on the south wall made her shiver and she shook it off, her gloved fingers tightening around the paper's edges.

Below the otherworldly symbols drawn across the top, Hope had translated a single, neatly written line:

'What do you think of this world you were so desperate to save, woman?'

"Tch, he is a cocky bastard," Lightning huffed.

A muffled cackle to her right had her whipping toward the sound.

"An' who're you talking to this time, Sunshine?" Fang said with a smirk high enough to show above her scarf. "Y'know, I didn't mean for you to read that thing out here, freezin' your ass off!"

"I'd freeze my ass off in the tower, anyway." Lightning easily dismissed her prodding and folded the letter, stuffed it into her coat pocket, and brushed past her on the wall.

Fang just shook her head and clapped a hand on her shoulder before she could escape. "Look, I've still got an open ear if ya need to chat one off, lady."

"Thanks, but I don't have much to say."

"Right, then," Fang said, patting her once with force. "Won't take more than a stay-over this weekend, eh? You looked half-ready to jump this wall and run off like a starved mountain lion."

Pausing, she gave her wind-blasted counterpart a once-over and raised one dark eyebrow in obvious dissatisfaction.

"Come to think of it, you do look starved. I'm not about to stand for that."

She gave Lightning a playful bump to the hip and strolled off.

"Dinner's at six!" Fang called over the rush of wind, waving lazily. "Don't be late, or I'm callin' the queen mother Serah!"

Once again alone on the wall, Lightning hung her head in defeat, her pocketed hand wrapping tightly around the letter within.

Must they all use my sister against me?

Lightning wanted nothing more than the time to compose a reply, if that was possible. She hadn't written anything but log entries or the occasional work-related report in ages, and the idea of putting whole sentences worth of feelings on paper stood as an insurmountable obstacle in her mind.

Her shift ended in an hour. She steeled herself, tightened the forest green scarf around her face and jogged toward the watchtower, where at least the wind would leave her be.

Inside, a couple of other border patrol guards warmed their hands around a raised fire crackling in its metal grate, but they barely spared a glance and a nod at her arrival. She mounted the stairs and wound her way to the observatory level, where the watch officer's desk stood empty. The passdown report was due in half an hour – one following a completely uneventful round of patrols.

Lightning dropped into the hard chair and stared at the bound log of entries, shifting her gaze to the drawer of supplies. With slow, almost ceremonious movements, she pulled out a spare notepad and pencil – god knew using a pen was inviting disaster.

She pressed the graphite tip to the page with all the force of her concentration. It snapped off in protest. Lightning muttered curses at the thing and wasted several minutes digging around for a sharpener, ultimately coming up empty-handed and begrudgingly snatching the pen.

She grabbed the ruler, as well.

If I'm about to make a dozen errors, at least I can line them out properly.

Several minutes into the task, Lightning sat back and held her head. The paper looked more like it held interrupted railroad tracks than a stream of words. She growled and crumpled it into a tight ball, starting afresh.

The second draft was far from perfect, but time was up. Lightning read it over again, groaning at her pathetic but not-quite-atrocious attempt:

'Hope,

I miss you, too (good advice on the intro). But don't ever call me goddess. I can't say I've spent enough time around people to be an authority, but I think you're right. Big surprise. Who the hell is bragging about a giant fish, anyway? Tell him you built a mechanical planet. End game.

It's starting to freeze here, so I hope you're wearing layers. You left your scarf, by the way. [The green one. Like you had so many of them. Nevermind – If you catch a deadly cold, you're in for it. LF] I've commandeered it.

Okay, that sounded idiotic. Don't catch a cold, please. Or anything else. I'd follow the rail to your post if I didn't know that would completely defeat the purpose of this mess. On the upside, you'd get your birthday kiss. Fair? [I'd probably also catch your inevitable cold. LF]

I'm kidding. Well, not about wanting to go, but actually doing that. What's with the cheesy pun, anyway? Completely killed my image of the Steppe.

Land navigation is boring. [I don't think you need another competitive edge, either. LF] It requires three things: keen senses, a specific knowledge set, and persistence. I'd rather discuss it in person, maybe next to a fire, because it would put you to sleep. As if I would slap you! Hold that thought… You'd have to do something unforgivable.

You wanted updates. I'm on the border patrol again, so congratulations on that prediction. Threw myself into work, but it's not quite doing the trick. Everyone else is mostly the same. Dajh is getting tall, Claire's getting chatty, and Serah's just getting more pregnant. I hate when I'm right about these things. Snow was acting more [annoying LF] optimistic than usual – dead giveaway. I take it you wrote your parents separately, and I don't have anything to say on that front myself. Sorry. They probably hate me again.

I don't hate you, though. Please tell me you never really thought that. I haven't tried to count how often I think about you – a watch might help. You're more like my shadow, if that makes any sense. Always with me.

You know, I really wanted to line that out. But I didn't. I'm losing my edge (pun intended, I guess; there's a ruler involved. Laugh it up.).

I do think questions from the god-tumor are an improvement over demands. He was more than a cocky bastard to demand anything from me, in the first place. He was naïve – mainly for thinking you'd stand for it. You can let him know that I think the world was worth every last sacrifice if you're in it. I'm sure he'll love that.

Yours,

Light

P.S. I feel like a complete fool, but kiss the paper here: X

Happy 17th/30th, for what it's worth. Just glad you're alive.'

And Lightning did kiss the mark, dead center, if only because she could imagine Hope laughing his ass off at the corny antic. Seeing that her lips had smudged the ink, she chuckled to herself in satisfaction.

She also suspected that loneliness had eroded her sanity.

She did not give a damn.

"Heya, Sunshine! Thought I told you not to be late for dinner!"

Fang's muffled drawl greeted Lightning even before she'd knocked on the door.

A quick glance at the window identified the culprit. Vanille the lookout snickered and ducked out of sight, and Lightning rolled her eyes. Not bothering to knock anymore, she pushed open the door with a loud creak and sighed as a wave of spiced heat met her on the landing.

"Sorry," she said, tugging off her coat and stamping the first bits of winter's slush from her boots. "Got sidetracked finding the mail drop-off."

Vanille was already bouncing in place, clearly in the know. "Ooh, writing Hope back, am I right? What did he say? Any sight of the sea, yet?"

"No," Lightning sighed. She stretched and made a beeline for the fireplace, defrosting her frozen, possibly traitorous fingers as she rambled. "I think the ocean is a lot farther off. They're camped in a canyon for winter, now – some place similar to the Archylte Steppe. He asked about everyone, and he misses us."

I can't believe I just wrote all of that. God, and I kissed it! Why didn't I ask him to burn the evidence?

Her face was much warmer than the fire had provided for.

"Pfft, he misses you. And I'm sorry to say the scarf's gotta go, unless ya want stew in it." Fang chuckled and returned to the fire with a half-boiled pot of assorted vegetables and meat, heaving it onto the rack as she muttered, "Damned if I forgot the garlic."

Lightning shrugged it off. The initial aroma of the food made her stomach rumble, but she hardly paid it any mind. She breathed in again, the smell of his familiar scarf hitting her gut harder. Her thoughts were long gone past the flames and out of the house, beyond the sound of the front door's opening and closing, flying off to a chilly tent somewhere.

"I'm sure he misses a lot of things."

Like being warm. Can't say if it's even the weather. I forgot to ask if he was sleeping enough, too—

It startled her when a pair of pale arms wrapped around her waist from behind, a barely-there bump pressed into her back, and her sister's voice passed her ear.

"Sorry, but you looked like you needed a hug."

"Thanks." Lightning smiled half-heartedly and patted her head. Serah meant well, anyway.

And she did, begrudgingly, unwind Hope's scarf.

'Light,

My use of 'goddess' was emphatic (didn't mean to insult!). I wish I had more time, but we're packing up today for an extended plains trek. Thank you for the kiss – unexpected and sweet of you, and I'm keeping it for the most annoying period of time I can think of: eternity. Better kiss your elaborate letter destruction plans goodbye.

That was also the best conversation I've had in ages. Maybe ever. It must be pretty miserable in the settlement if you've resorted to humoring me with puns, though (even good ones like that), so I have to be a little more direct, I think. Are you doing all right? I mean it – are you eating well, and sleeping, and not doing dangerous or irrational things to get temporary relief from boredom? I know you a little too well by now, and I'm worried.

I did write to my parents. They don't hate you, by the way, and they're worried too. More on why I'm asking. Dad said the New Order never did regroup after your appearance, which is great news, but he also hasn't seen you since I left. Mom saw you, though. She said you were like a ghost, and I wasn't sure what she meant. Pale? There and gone again in a moment? Or just never really there? I need you to tell me, or I might have to end this journey sooner than planned.

On a brighter note, please tell Serah and Snow congratulations! They've always wanted that big, happy family. Guess it's two down, who knows how many more to go. Come to think of it, I've never asked how you feel about that dynamic. Don't read into it – just one of many questions.

It might be mid-spring before the rail reaches our next post, so don't think something's wrong if I can't reply to your letter for a while (handcars and horses aren't too fast, but Sazh has to ration fuel for the track-laying machinery). Until then, you can do some accurate counting with the enclosed gift. The last village we passed was very tech-savvy with timepieces, and you need it more than me.

Give my love to the surrogate family (but keep a good amount for yourself).

Still yours,

Hope

P.S. The god-tumor, as you've termed it, has been talkative lately. I've written another pretty amusing message on the back, here. And since I owe you for the last one, here's another kiss: X'

Lightning pushed her back against the rough tree bark, high up in her woodland perch, and choked back a sob. The main perk to taking field missions was the privacy, not the comfort, but the ache in her chest was quickly outstripping the pain of her bandaged arm.

She really did hate bears. Said menace was still circling the trunk below.

She hated the speed of railway construction a little more, though. The months between correspondence felt like centuries. And her current assignment was supposed to have been in an easy kill sector – perfect for burning off steam, followed by quiet downtime in a tree somewhere to read her newest lifeline of a letter.

Nothing had quite worked out.

Guess I'd better finish this. It can't get much worse.

She turned the page over, bypassing the symbols at the top to jump into Hope's translation:

'I can't understand you humans. Why would you tear yourself apart for another person? It hurts! Are you doing this for vengeance? Reason dictates that there be some benefit to this arrangement, so why can I only feel pain?'

Lightning laughed through a blur of tears. There sat the mighty Bhunivelze, getting his share of emotional pummeling – if it wasn't simultaneously hurting Hope, she would have reveled in it. Instead, she pulled out the slender watch in the envelope and clumsily strapped it onto her good wrist. She flipped Hope's letter, took note of the second hand's position on the watch, and kissed his mark for a full ten seconds.

Swiping a dirty, torn sleeve across her face, Lightning exhaled and pulled herself together. She dug into her pack and produced a flare, aiming it straight up to call for assistance.

The senseless part of her wished Hope could see it.

"Serah, I need to borrow a pencil."

The shock on her six-months-pregnant sister's face at the sight of Lightning was enough to make the border guard step back from the door.

"My god, Sis… Wh-what happened to you?" she squeaked, weakly raising her hand to point. "Your arm!"

Oh great. Maternity-induced panic.

Lightning took a deep breath. She briefly took stock of her bedraggled field gear and the blood slightly darkening the outside of her new bandage. "It's nothing, Serah, really. Not my first run-in with bears, and I doubt it will be my last. It's not even my sword arm. I didn't need many stitches—"

As far as possible with her belly interference, Serah plunged forward to smother her in a hug, sniffling into her shoulder.

"Why couldn't you just… stay in… the tower rotation?" she pleaded in snatches. Lightning patted her back with the better hand.

"Oh, I'll be taking a break. Even Hope was fussing over me about destructive habits from thousands of miles away. Not a great sign."

"He knew?" Serah slowly backed off, her fingers finding purchase on Lightning's shoulders instead. "Was it, you know… god-related?"

With a slight chuckle, Lightning quickly explained, "More like a combination of knowing my habits, sharp intuition, and his parents' snitching."

Her sister joined in the laughter and finally relaxed, ushering her inside the house. She rubbed affectionately at her bump.

"Parents can be pretty intrusive when they worry. Or any loved one, I guess," she remarked. She squatted down to dig in a messenger bag, coming up with a pencil box, a notepad and a smile. "Sure you don't need pain reliever more than these school supplies?"

Lightning shook her head as she slid into a chair. She pulled the supplies closer. "Already taken. Distraction works better. Oh, and he said congratulations on the baby, by the way."

"Tell him we couldn't be happier! Write away, pining sister," Serah sang and shuffled off, pausing halfway to the sink to turn and prop a hand on her hip. "You'd better tell him what happened to you, too, or I'll write him myself."

"Ugh. Fine." Lightning rested her face on the smooth wooden table for a moment, collecting her thoughts while she stared sideways at her watch.

Time enough to put it down right. And I can erase the bad parts.

The box even contained a sharpener. With a small but genuine smile, Lightning raised her head, smoothed the paper and started scratching out her letter.

'Hope,

A bear attacked me today. (Points for best lead-in yet?) Don't worry – he just swiped at my arm and left some scratches. Needed a few stitches, but no harm done. I was up a tree afterward reading your letter, which came as a pretty timely wakeup call. Serah threatened additional letters if I didn't tell the tale.

Your mom probably meant that I wasn't really 'there,' I guess, when she called me a ghost. I've always been pale (darker than you, but still). Are you surprised? I don't deal well with losing people. God knows I deserve it after I left you and everyone else for a thousand years.

I don't want you to compromise your mission over my stupid hang-ups, though. If the god-tumor has started whining about emotional turmoil, you're keeping things from me. What's on your mind (besides a suddenly hormonal deity)?

I've passed on your congratulations to Serah, and she says they couldn't be happier. I won't read into your question (cart before the horse, much?). My current dynamic with Claire is mutual tolerance with a side of affection.

I'm not sleeping well – never at home, anyway. My eating habits aren't stellar, but Serah or Fang set me straight if things get out of hand. Does anyone have your back, out there? I know you've had it worse than pioneering with a bunch of acquaintances before, just wondering. Since we're being honest, I expect the unabridged truth from you when your next letter comes around in spring. I'd rather hear it from your better half – the lefty.

Oh, and I kissed your last letter for ten seconds. I timed it with your watch. That was a perfect gift. I owe you. Please take care of yourself, for me.

Love (read into it if you want),

Light

P.S. Match my record. I know it's ridiculous. X'

"Did you just kiss that?"

Serah's voice burst through her thoughts, and Lightning dropped the letter. She froze for a moment, covering her face with one hand, and snorted in undeniable embarrassment.

"Pathetic, huh?"

"No!" Serah blurted, flailing her hands as she drifted closer. She broke into a wide grin. "No, definitely not. Adorable is more like it. Do you kiss them every time?"

Lightning thought about that while the familiar, accursed heat spread over her face. She nodded once, coming to herself in time to hastily fold the letter.

"Only since he asked for it," she muttered. She immediately bit her tongue.

What am I, fourteen?

Serah had sidled even closer, draping an arm around her sister's shoulders. She giggled and turned Lightning's strawberry face up to her.

"Oh, he did? Pretty gutsy move – unless that wasn't the first time."

"Serah, please don't butt in—"

"It's written all over your face," she said, patting Lightning's cheek. "I'm married with one and a half kids, you know. Maybe head-over-heels was several centuries back for Mrs. Snow Villiers, but humor me. Give me a when, where, and who on the real first kiss, and I'll leave you alone."

Lightning blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Is the who really necessary?"

"Who made the first move, silly."

"Oh." Lightning stared down, picking at a loose edge of her bandage. The memory was muddled with its horrific aftermath, but she tried to concentrate only on those exhilarating moments in the fog. "H-he did. By the river. The morning before we stayed at Fang and Vanille's. We were just doing laundry, arguing about something… He probably knew he was in for it when the cult took him later. He was right."

After a stretch of quiet seconds, her sister cleared her throat. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. I was hoping to help you focus on the happy times." Serah leaned down to Lightning's level and tucked a lock of sweat-mangled hair behind her ear.

"He obviously thought that one little kiss was worth it."

She tried to look anywhere except at Serah, whose brow wrinkled in puzzlement when Lightning's lips pulled into a tiny smirk of satisfaction. She was far beyond caring that her face had flamed up anew.

"I never said it was a little kiss."

Gasping and sputtering, Serah tried several false starts until she choked out, "You didn't say one word! For half a year!" She let out an exasperated sigh and wagged her head. "Such a shame, sister."

"I was ashamed of myself, alright," Lightning muttered, suddenly feeling the weight of her former insecurities. Her right hand closed around the top of her pant leg's fabric in a vice grip.

"That's not what I meant," Serah said. She pulled up a chair opposite Lightning and placed a hand on her whitened, scraped knuckles. "You didn't get to gush about it. You didn't even have time to process it, I bet."

Lightning relaxed her fingers and shrugged, but she was spot-on. "No. And I've kissed him since, just… never like that, again. It was too much too soon. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Snow or the others about this, either."

"Secret's safe with me," Serah promised, raising her palm. "On one condition."

Groaning, Lightning held her forehead. "Really? What is it, this time?"

A knowing grin spread over her sister's face, and Lightning peeked through her fingers with a raised eyebrow.

"When you see Hope again, kiss him like you mean it."

The fresh April day was perfect. Sickeningly sweet with blooming flowers, caressed with the softest breeze, and serenaded by a chorus of birds. The only clouds were harmless and fluffy. The pollen had lost its allergic potency. Whatever mating wildlife should have been rampaging in the woods had taken the day off for sudden-onset hibernation.

Lightning wondered if Yeul had yet retained some of Etro's power. No one, not even the former seeress, should have been able to predict her own storybook wedding day.

But there it was. It could have been packaged and sold.

Standing in the midst of her entire social circle – minus one – and a significant gathering of pelt-clad hunter families, Lightning felt utterly alone. She wanted to enjoy the festivities, and she'd painted on a hundred smiles for everyone else's sake. Yeul looked radiant, Noel hadn't stopped smiling like a fool, and the guests were already bragging about their nuptials being the event of the year.

It came down to the minus one. Hope's letter, wherever it was, hadn't arrived. Even if it had, Lightning missed having his presence to get her through another awkward celebratory ritual.

Snow and Serah's wedding had been simple – a forest ceremony with only the traveling company of a few dozen people, at the time – but even then he'd kept her occupied. He stayed with her, talked about centuries' worth of interesting sights and experiences, and even helped her dance when Snow refused to stop badgering her about being a wallflower.

At least in a loud, overflowing village reception like the one Lightning now faced, no one noticed if she disappeared. And the wine was exceptional.

That may have been the thing that finally set her reminiscing into heartache, though. She'd found a nicely secluded log bench as far from the open-air dance floor as possible, nearly hugging the tree line, and settled into a second glass as twilight enveloped the scene. The blazing sunset left behind a painted sky flecked with stars.

The only thing that could have made it more picturesque, if she had any say, was the lapping of the ocean on a favored beach.

Maybe he's there.

A brilliant flash of light made her tense, and Lightning turned with narrowed, catlike eyes to the dead man holding a camera.

Well, until she saw the sizeable tuft of dark hair. Dajh gave her a nervous grin about half as bright as the flash.

"Uh, here," he stammered, handing off a darkish square of plastic material. He backed away slowly and added, "Don't mind me, just doin' the bride's photo taskers. See ya!"

He turned and sprinted like a gazelle.

Photo taskers? What's this for, then?

Lightning squinted at the square, her own features slowly coming to light from the dark blur in its center. In the image, the wine hadn't jostled – Dajh had caught her the second before reaction, chin on the back of her hand and eyes reflecting the fiery sky.

She liked it. The technology was inefficient to produce just one photo for his trouble, but maybe that made it even better. No one else would ever see that frozen moment unless she gave it up.

Lightning smiled to herself. She knew exactly what to do.

When another week passed with no letter, Lightning decided to skip a step or two in her plan. Her patience wasn't what it used to be.

Sazh, on the other hand, had enough patience for both of them.

"Like I told you last week, missy," he enunciated, scrawling a note in the margin of a locomotive schematic, "They're still checking in like clockwork. That signal's relayin' perfectly clear through the outpost chain. If you don't like the system, take it up with Charlie over there." Standing upright, Sazh cracked his back and jerked a thumb toward one of his team members who labored over an odd contraption at a secluded desk, tapping its tiny hammer like his life depended on it.

"What? No, I—" Lightning started, but Sazh was already rolling up his diagrams and striding out his office door to the rail yard. She doubled her steps to catch up.

"I'm sorry, and I know you're busy, but if the team's been sending messages I thought they might've mentioned a hang-up."

Sazh swept into the open sliding panel of a boxcar-turned-workshop but immediately hopped back out, having traded schematics for a clipboard.

"Break's in five, Rolph!"

He gave Lightning a near-miss of a smile and patted her arm. "Look, I know it's tough. You'd be my second call if anything really went down in the field – first call's mandatory to the council. But even then, I wouldn't have the details; we shoot out questions, they spit back a handful o' canned replies. Efficiency's king with a dozen different teams on the go."

"I will say our missing snail-mail delivery's got diddly-squat to do with a survey team hang-up, though," he added, sliding his pen down a column of entries on his clipboard. He tapped it twice on one spot. "Might be as silly as a paper shortage. We asked if they needed a bunch of supplies on this list, and paper was one that got a 'yes.'"

Blinking at the simplicity of her issue inside the myriad of potential problems, Lightning peered over the metal clip at the chart in accusation. "Okay. That's… better than expected, I guess."

"Always is," Sazh said, grinning in earnest. "You oughtta write him, anyway. Tell him to give those poor guys a break, while you're at it! This train'll be ready to chug along by autumn with the stream of materials and fuel coming up the line. 'Bout to outstrip our manpower for handling it."

"Wait… what?" Lightning stared at him, puzzled, and ultimately looked around the yard full of crates, supply carts, and the frame of a half-built engine not fifty yards to her left. Men and women in hard-hats with assorted tools were bustling all over the place. Wires she'd failed to notice before ran out from the roof of the main office, stretching onto a pole and, finally, disappearing into the ground.

Belatedly, it dawned on her that the message system itself was a feat. Rotating teams had to have been laying line for thousands of miles.

The wires themselves were even made of particular materials, all of which had to be mined somewhere.

Hope had obviously led the surveyors to more than a few coal deposits.

Is he leading them now, period?

Lightning shook her head rapidly, squared her shoulders, and met Sazh's cool stare.

"You put him in charge of the team, didn't you?" she asked, stifling the threat that wanted to creep into her tone.

"He volunteered," Sazh said simply. "Had all the right qualifications and no objections. Sure, some of my guys prob'ly just wanted to send the kid off to a wild frontier, but they never saw the ace up his sleeve."

With a wink, he tapped the side of his head. "Tip o' the spear in development, Estheim's team. Plus, the naysayers can't badger him out there. Usually best to leave Hope to his own devices. He's got a lot of 'em."

Lightning stood aghast. She ran a hand over her face and turned on her heel, but several paces later turned back and stalked straight up to Sazh.

Heart pounding, she felt a rising, senseless urge to level him.

"How is he supposed to lie low if he's directing the whole team? Sazh, they could've killed him over the tiniest slip-up," she ground out. "Just-just dumped him off in the wilderness! You know I'm right, damn it! You do…"

Her fists clenched and loosened without purpose until her resolve broke under that fatherly gaze, and her eyes hit her boots.

Sazh's hands landed on her shoulders. "Honey, he knows what he's doing out there. No one coulda stopped him, either, so don't even think like that. Got it?"

"I wish he'd told me," Lightning whispered, raising her impossibly heavy head. "He didn't have to lie about it."

Sazh cracked an ironic smile and said evenly, "Oh really, now? Not a chance in hell he'd skip town alone if you had any idea what he was up to, and you know that. Have a little faith."

"I'll leave that to the god-fearing crowd," she muttered.

"Then get a load o' the proof," Sazh declared, waving his arm in a grand gesture at the entire operation surrounding them.

The truth of the matter was undeniable, but it left an uneasy feeling in Lightning's stomach. Hope had played it down so expertly, she never had the slightest clue that his team was blazing a trail to modernization. She knew him too well to think the omissions were anything less than intentional. It wasn't modesty; he never wasted her time with social graces.

It was an evasion.

What is he so afraid of?

"Think I'll go write that letter, after all," Lightning said. "Thanks for the updates." She didn't wait for Sazh to say goodbye. Her boots pounded the dirt as she ran east up the track, bypassed the town and eventually headed south along the river, not once stopping until she hit her front door.

Lightning slammed it behind her, sucking in gulps of musty air – the penalty for spending a three-day watch shift on the border. She was quick to open the windows but slow to make her way to the table.

The supplies Serah had 'gifted' to her lay in plain sight. They'd been sitting in one spot long enough to collect a film of dust.

With labored movements, Lightning dragged the chair back and tentatively took a seat, as if she expected the surface to collapse underneath her thin frame with the extra weight of so much concern.

She slipped her photograph from beneath the notebook. It was hard to say if that lonely day's misery or her current state of mind was worse.

Both had to hit the paper before she imploded. Shakily, she picked a sharpened pencil from the little box.

'Hope,

I got word from Sazh today that your paper supply ran out. I might lose my mind if I don't see a letter soon, so I'm sticking a couple of extra pages in with this on the outside chance that it reaches you faster.

Noel and Yeul's wedding was last week. It was practically a fairy tale event. Wish you could've been there (and I'm sure they did, too). I didn't dance. Dajh took a photo at the reception, enclosed. It's not as fancy as a watch, but I think you'll like it. Take it as proof of at least one moment I lost to you.

But that's not the main reason I'm writing.

There's a big difference between watching you craft a convincing lie and being on the receiving end. I guess your team's been busier than I thought, out there. You ought to see the rail yard – it's a mad house. Sazh said they're months away from a functional train service. He also said you should give your guys a well-deserved break, on his orders. You know, since you're the one calling the shots.

I expect that your next letter's going to be very, very long. You've got a lot of explaining to do (both you and the god-tumor, I suspect.)

Love,

Light'

P.S. The wine at the wedding was excellent. I've saved a bottle. You'll have to earn it.'

She couldn't bring herself to print another word – not even the usual 'X.' Drained in every way, Lightning folded her arms on the table, dropped her head and closed her burning eyes. She resolved to run the letter over after a nap.

Torturous as it was, only one more month passed before Hope's letter arrived. Lightning ran off to retrieve it first thing at an alert from Sazh, with the idea that she could use it as motivation to complete a growing list of market errands. She didn't make it halfway down the list before she gave in to her pounding heart and fled the square, though, blowing in and out of the recently established post office with barely a greeting.

Letter in hand – and nowhere near willing to wait another minute – she settled for an abandoned bench in a garden surrounding the Savior monument. She tore into the envelope, recognizing the lined paper and ripped notebook margin of her own supplies.

'Light,

I don't know where to start. Probably with a hundred 'thank yous' for writing me again and sending paper! I spent weeks agonizing over your arm injury and whether you were working yourself into an early grave, and then you gave me that picture. You looked sad, but all in one piece. And still beautiful. I really did cry – one of the guys caught me and gave the patented 'boss is losing it' look. It's nothing new.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my real position. If my dishonesty was unforgivable by your standards, I'll take that slap. I couldn't compromise my mission to put some distance between you and Bhunivelze.

But I'd be lying if I said that was the only reason I held back. I'm starting to suspect a little bit more of his agenda, and it's not just about controlling me, or even you. It may be about getting the power to achieve a certain level of large-scale control. I've been in leadership positions for so long now that I didn't think about what it could mean to him. I'm not even ambitious! I just see what needs to be done and make it happen. I think he sees it as an opportunity to manipulate people from a higher position. Something of a consolation prize for losing the reins to his new world.

Take this, for example (and as another chance to come clean about recent events): I sprained my right wrist a couple of months ago, catching myself from a sudden fall. After wrapping it and icing it for days, and then while it healed over several weeks, I noticed how it affected my behavior. I slept less, had more nightmares, and became very antisocial – a backlash to losing one of the god-tumor's outlets, I assume. I also pushed my team much harder than usual without even thinking about it. Sazh was right to order a break for them.

Light, I don't want to be that kind of leader. I can't let him make me into one. What do you think I should do, though? Seek an early retirement? If people need someone to step up, I can't just ignore the call. I've got creator-level knowledge for a reason.

To make matters worse, I think Bhunivelze really is obsessed with you. It's the strangest mix of infatuated and vengeful you can imagine, and sometimes it makes me sick. You'll see what I mean.

With all these charges stacking up against me, I can't fault you for throwing in the towel, if you choose. I'm stubborn and I miss you terribly, but I can't promise that everything will be okay soon, if ever. I'll leave it to you. You can just write me letters, if you want, and I won't stop writing back. Or don't, if it's too much to take. All I ever wanted was for us to be together, however that works. But it's not just about what I want.

You asked me to be honest.

Love,

Hope

P.S. What must I do to earn that wine? (I used a second page for the god-tumor's latest ranting. Maybe alcohol would shut him up.)'

For the first time in a long time, Lightning was afraid to look at the second page. Her heart was already pulsing in her throat, and a cold sweat broke out across her brow. She finally closed her eyes and brought the back page to the forefront.

Lightning stared at the lengthy string of symbols for several seconds, the tension visible in them – they were sloppier than usual, whether from wrist injury or the strain of conflict as Hope forced himself to write hurtful words.

And hurtful, they were. Small, raised blotches scattered on the paper marked the struggle of his translation. She resolved to share the burden of truth, and read:

'This is how you thank me, little human? I give you worlds of knowledge and you resign yourself to slavery! What other living soul has the right to give you orders? To bend your will? I admit to have underestimated that trait – there is a resolve and a drive for progress that comes with these accursed emotions. I could see them when I singled you out.

Yet you refuse to temper yourself! You would fight me for a lifetime, all for these worthless feelings and that powerless woman! She can do nothing for you but bring misery. If I could escape this prison of your soul, I would pay her back this suffering. She had the gall to challenge me, to level the weapon of humanity at my glory and reduce me to witness the chaos infecting my new world, but that wasn't enough! No, she relegated me to endure your anguish and share your masochistic attachment. I hate her and I love her – you leave me without a scrap of reason! The logical course is to break her. Test me, and see if I cannot find a way.'

In the end, he had written one more note in his shaky script:

'Light, I won't stop trying to bring him around. I love you, only. - Hope'

There was no describing the hurricane of conflicting emotions that engulfed Lightning in that moment. Searing pain consumed her chest, and she waited for an explosion that would not come.

Lightning felt the streams of tears dripping off her chin as she bent over the pages, new drops joining his own blotchy constellations. Her very soul was lost in the dark all over again. But how could he reach her, this time?

As the storm subsided and her hands stopped trembling, she went back to Hope's first letter. She pored over it for every shred of reassurance that the threat was not as terrible as it seemed.

Ultimately, she could see his heart. He was alone and afraid of himself. Dangerous but unsure, asking for her guidance. Based on her limited understanding of Hope's many sides, she bemoaned the fact that she was still unequipped to make a good decision, when everything really did rest on her.

She needed guidance from another source, first.

Lightning pounded on the door to her sister's house, letter in hand and a mind whirring with apprehension.

What am I doing? How much is safe to say? This has got to be a new low…

Heavy footsteps preceded the door flinging wide, and Snow raised both eyebrows at her rattled state.

"Uh, Sis? Serah's out 'hiking' with Lina and the kids, so you might wanna come back la—"

"I came to see you," she blurted in the quietest voice she could manage. "Believe me, this is a last resort."

Snow rubbed at the back of his neck, looking baffled and almost embarrassed, but he finally nodded and stepped aside.

"There's, uh, sandwich stuff if you're hungry."

"No, thanks." Lightning strode directly for a chair, planted herself and waited for him to sit, tapping her boot nervously against the floor.

"Okay," Snow mumbled, joining her. "What's this emergency? Y'know, considering you still haven't forgiven my latest crime, I'm a little surprised."

Abandoning all discretion, Lightning slid her crumpled letter across the table. Her stomach was a mass of knots.

"I don't want to… I-I can't rehash what Hope said. Just read this, spare the jokes, and help me figure out what to do. You said you knew him pretty well, before, and I need your perspective."

It was surreal, seeing her brother-in-law gingerly collect the pages with his gigantic hands, holding them like they might break into pieces. He still looked dumbfounded, his mouth slightly agape the entire time he read.

Ugh, I might live to regret this.

After the end of the second page, Lightning got the distinct impression from his face that he was no longer baffled by her actions, but the content. Baffled and a little disturbed.

Snow huffed and scratched at his stubble, letting the pages fall to the table.

"Well… Now I know why you're looking for advice."

"And?"

"And nothing," Snow sighed, relaxing in his seat. He took a long breath to process everything and eventually chuckled to himself. "That bastard Bhunivelze's getting antsy. Sure sign that he knows he's met his match. I won't deny that it was creepy, and I bet it scared Hope shitless. But you're right – I know Hope pretty well. He doesn't realize his own strength, in some ways. You know that, though. You know him better than you think."

"Not from all those centuries I missed," Lightning muttered.

"Eh, he's the same guy at the core. I want you to think back to the little l'Cie tagalong you mentored, for a sec. Then, I want you to remember finding his soul inside that monster of a god," Snow challenged, a slight smirk on his face. "Just think about how you saved him. Every time."

A rush of so many memories slammed her in the stomach, and Lightning gasped. She pictured Hope, struggling to survive and plotting his vengeance on the man who killed his mother. She pictured Bhunivelze, terrifying in his sheer power, plotting to annihilate the human race that refused to be perfected. And finally, she pictured herself in the gap.

When had she ever failed to help him – to change him – before?

Lightning nodded slowly to herself. "When you put it like that…"

Snow's throaty laugh startled her out of her thoughts, and she shot him a weak glare.

"Hey now, go easy on me, Sis," he teased. He folded his hands behind his head. "I'm just glad you're coming back around. Any more advice needed? I mean, now that you look about ready to follow your lover into the wilderness—agh! Damn!"

It was just enough of a kick to the shin to make Lightning's point. In an overdramatic show, Snow winced and rubbed at the offended leg for a long minute, wearing an ineffectual pout.

"You'll live," Lightning remarked, faintly smirking herself. "He's not my lover, and I'm not about to run off into the wilderness to interrupt his work."

Snow's expression transformed into confusion, and then into something near anger. He smacked a fist on the table. "You mean you're not even gonna try to fix anything? What happened to all the 'mutual feelings' talk and the whole last year you've spent sleep-deprived or half dead? Hope doesn't sound much better, if you haven't noticed." Actually frowning for once, he jabbed a finger at the proof lying on the pages.

"I didn't say I was giving up," she said, snatching her letter. She pushed to her feet and headed for the door. "It's just more practical to take the train."

"That's not for another couple of months, at least!" Snow called after her.

Halfway out the door, Lightning shrugged and cracked a weary smile.

"Should give him time to wrap up this mission. I'll write back, for now."

'Hope,

I talked to Snow about your problem. It's weird using him as a voice of reason, but I'll take whatever works. He made some impressive arguments. If he says you're still the same person, more than capable of beating that god-tumor into regression, he's probably right.

I'm willing to bet on that. I've never been one to throw in the towel, anyway. So please, keep writing me. I want to know when you see the ocean.

Is the team still working well for you? It's impossible to imagine you as a tyrannical leader. You're obviously sensitive to your weak points and willing to correct mistakes, so give yourself some credit. If they give you any trouble, feel free to rant. I can't promise denial of retribution, though. And early retirement does sound like a solid option.

On a very different note, Serah went into labor yesterday afternoon. I guess her 'hiking' finally did the trick. We've been at the clinic since. I waited until now to write you for this news: it's a healthy (gigantic) little boy. Snow's been calling him Junior – the actual name remains TBD. But I'm too anxious to delay my letter any longer.

It also reminded me of that question you asked a while ago. For the record, childbirth terrifies me. I'd rather be attacked by a raving mad bear. This could prove to be a sticking point, FYSA.

To your very last note in the previous letter: if the thought ever crosses your mind that I don't love you, stab that thought in the face.

(Don't actually stab yourself. Please. I will take back my knife.)

Love,

Light

P.S. You asked about the wine. Proper glasses will earn you a drink (I don't own any). Then it's yours, if you're willing to share.

Lightning blinked up from the page, bleary-eyed after the long hours comforting her sister, running errands, managing visits, and pondering life's questions in that special way only momentous occasions bring about.

She stood from the maternity ward couch and stretched. A short stroll and a peek into Serah's tiny room identified her, Snow, and their bundle of joy snoozing peacefully.

The rest of their friends had already come and gone in a flurry of gushing congratulations and activity. Her heart had swelled briefly, unable to deny the flood of happiness, but it had since receded.

Lightning made her way back to the couch as her thoughts came full circle. She collapsed against the thin cushions, waiting for exhaustion to claim her.

I'll never be happy, here. No amount of everyone else's happiness – not even my sister's – is going to fix that.

Snow was right. I'm just half dead.

Eventually, she slipped into a restless sleep. She dreamed of nothing but green eyes, the foaming surf, and trains.

Lightning startled herself awake. Her forehead bore a mark from the glass – she could see it reflected in the window to her left, and beyond that, the gentle hilly terrain drifting by. It was a welcome change from the barren landscape of the last few hours.

Considering Sazh's locomotive was on its maiden voyage, with the exception of short-distance trial runs, she was pleased to find that the service was punctual. Every milestone village had come and gone within minutes of the stated arrival times.

At the thought, Lightning checked the time on her watch and felt her heart race to an unsafe speed. Less than an hour remained to her destination. Rising from her seat, she staggered half the train's length to the open-air observation car. She wasn't going to miss a thing.

The hills were gradually growing, she noted, before the engine plowed through a tunnel and around a bend. Lightning was briefly blinded by the sun as it made its journey toward the horizon, her hair already whipped by the wind into a tangled disaster. She hugged her sweater close against the chill of autumn and breathed.

She could smell it – the faintest of salt in the air.

Another winding series of turns finally revealed the great blue ocean, sparkling brilliantly under the sun. Lightning had seen nothing like it since Bodhum, but the view from her hometown's sandy beaches could not compare to the vastness stretched before her. Tears blurred her vision only to be dried by the blustery air.

Finally, she turned her attention to the track ahead, where a small cluster of buildings seemed to sprout along the coastal cliff. She knew that had to be the town – nothing else of civilization had turned up in a hundred miles.

It felt like a moment and hours passed before the train pulled in to the station, squealing and hissing to a halt.

"Last stop, Crystal Cove…"

Lightning tuned out the rest of the announcement. She couldn't have cared less when the train would be departing. She had no intention of departing any time soon. She made her way back to her seat to claim her single piece of luggage, tried in vain to tame her salt-laced and wind-blasted hair, and stepped out onto the platform.

A quick glance found no one in the vicinity. It didn't faze her, and she wasted no more time before striding off into the seaside settlement. Some shops were just closing up, having no reason to do business beyond sunset, and a few townspeople greeted her before going back to work.

It took her less than twenty minutes to reach the other side of the town proper. Many scattered homes still lay ahead, most along a single main road that ran closer to the rocky cliffs.

One home – wherever the farthest one lay – was Hope's.

The thought turned her insides into a writhing mass.

What is he going to think? Maybe this wasn't the best idea…

Whatever he would think, she didn't have much more time to agonize over it. The road was narrower by the minute, about to dead-end at the very last structure in sight. The ocean-facing house was simple – a wood-frame built like so many others she'd passed, with stilts in the back to compensate for the sloping ground. She imagined the extra space beneath served well for dry storage. She also imagined that at least one person actually lived on the street.

"Where is everyone?" Lightning wondered aloud, barely daring to whisper. Her path ended before she could guess at the answer, though, and she had a much more pressing challenge at hand.

Knocking on the door.

"Deep breaths," she mumbled, following her own advice and hesitating three times before she settled her suitcase on the ground. She wrung her hands together, shook them out, and raised one to the wooden surface.

"You don't have to knock."

Hope's familiar voice was behind her. Lightning forced herself from temporary paralysis to turn to the sound. He stood several paces away, just on the other side of the dirt road, looking every bit as stunned as she'd imagined. He started to lift a hand, having lost the gift of speech the instant she faced him, and his expression said that he wanted to take a running leap.

But if her own obstacles of breathing and movement felt insurmountable, she knew he had it worse.

Say something, woman! Words! Anything!

Lightning finally managed to catch a breath.

"I-I wasn't completely sure it was… the right house."

Idiot! That was terrible. Maybe just do something.

So she took a step toward him. It must have broken an invisible barrier, because Hope closed the distance in the next two seconds, binding her in his arms with a force she hadn't known possible. She felt the tremors running through him as he sobbed into her hair. In between, she caught clips of his words soaked with dammed-up emotion and fought to not fall apart herself – if that could ever happen under such an embrace.

"You-you're here," he said for the tenth time. "You didn't have to… I never said you had to—"

"My choice," Lightning interjected. She pulled back enough to hold his face in view, taking in the slight changes of maturity, the greater height advantage, and especially his ageless smile. "I won't knock, if that's your protocol."

Hope choked out a laugh. He swiped his eyes clear before his fingers found a path into the tangled pink nest on her head. "I do have a bell. Feel free to not use that, either."

She was too overwhelmed to reply beyond a chuckle in that moment. He smelled incredible – better than she remembered, his skin and clothing permeated with the salty chill of ocean air. Suddenly, Lightning had the presence of mind to glance right, a bit too aware of their exposed position after years of caution.

"Hope, are you the only person living on this street?"

"More or less," he said easily. He never moved his eyes from her. "My team's preparing to head back for winter, and the town is developing faster than people can get into houses. Is it a problem?"

"No, I just… wondered..."

The sun was setting over the ocean behind Hope, creating a halo with its gorgeous backdrop. It brought out the slight glow still present in his eyes, but she wasn't about to let that kill her momentum. Lightning was nearly trembling with nerves about her second surprise – more so than she'd expected. Her palms were practically charged where they rested against his shirt. Her sister's words rang in her ears.

'Kiss him like you mean it.'

"Light, what were you wondering?" He still wore a smile. He knew.

But Lightning would not waste the moment, element of surprise be damned. She slid her hands up to the back of Hope's neck, her fingers warm inside his collar, and raised herself to capture his beautiful mouth.

What began as a soft, tentative response wound its way up to breathless passion in record time. Just when Lightning thought she'd finally released the tension that had mounted in his absence, he matched and surpassed her intensity. She tasted every anguished second on his tongue and felt every desperate night in his hands, until she swore her body was on fire.

And if it was, Lightning was about to set his house ablaze, because her back had just hit the door.

The contact snapped them both to reality. They broke apart, panting for air. Lightning leaned heavily against the wooden surface for support, one hand still latched to Hope's collar. He maintained a relaxed hold around her but hid his face in her neck, very near her sprinting pulse. When he'd recovered enough, she felt his breathy laugh.

"What did I do… to deserve that?"

Gods, whatever you just did qualifies for more.

"Don't tell me you forgot," she chided, lifting his head to read his reaction. "Happy birthday."

Amusement danced in his eyes, and Hope broke into a mischievous grin. "Thank you, but I don't remember asking for a kiss this year."

"Oh. Well, what did you ask for?" Lightning queried, at a loss as her foggy brain failed to produce the answer. Her eyes briefly flitted to the nearby suitcase. She released him to point at it. "I brought wine, too…"

Hope waved a dismissive hand and snatched hers back. "No, Light, I was teasing! That kiss was perfect – more than I could've ever asked for. Just having you here is a miracle. We'll share the wine, if that's all right. My glasses have been collecting dust for weeks."

"And then what?" The instant the words left her mouth, Lightning wanted to snatch them out of the air. Of all the times to start voicing worrisome thoughts beyond her arrival, five minutes post-reunion might have been the worst.

Surprisingly, Hope was unmoved. The small grin on his face had become a permanent fixture. He lifted her chin and pressed another kiss to her lips.

"Then, we'll have dinner. And tea."

Lightning snorted and rolled her eyes, gripping the front of his shirt to give him a slight shake. "Smartass," she muttered. "I meant after today, at least."

"Oh, see the sights, maybe head south into wine country for restocking," Hope continued happily. "We can sleep on it. I haven't had a good night's sleep in ages. Have you?"

With a bone-weary sigh, Lightning shook her head.

"That's what I thought." He let go of her waist in favor of the doorknob, indicating for her to stand aside while he opened the door. Straying only to grab her suitcase from the threshold, he caught her hand and led her in.

Lightning's eyes immediately tracked to the fire burning in a squat woodstove. She found familiar-looking cabinets, a table with two chairs, a teakettle, and floor cushions all in their places around the cozy room. Additional doors led to a bedroom and bathroom, respectively.

Hope was still watching her, anxiously tracing his thumb over the hand he held. "So, do you like it? I know I haven't asked how long you planned to stay…"

"As long as you want."

Lightning didn't miss a beat. She squeezed his hand, letting her uncertainties melt away in the warmth of the smile that lit his face. Hope had never looked more complete. She might as well have returned his soul.

He pulled her close and spoke the most perfect words in existence.

"Welcome home, then."