This is my first published fanfiction ever. I guess you can tell huh? I've forgotten to reply to your wonderful reviews, so, over a month too late, I'll do it now.

(chapter 1)fRAC: Yes, my chapters are a little short, hopefully I'll remember to make them longer!

(chapter 1)BicolourRaptor: Thank you!

(chapter 1)Black Lotus13: Yes, poor Hope! I seem to like making him sad... I'm evil!

(chapter 1) .rain: *accepts* Thank you!

(chapter 2)Black Lotus13: Ahah, I hope I won't disappoint you!

(chapter 2)Renascielle: Thank you! Yeah, my chapters are probably too short. I'm going to try and make them longer from now on, and I hope this chapter now will be better in both length and description!

Anywho, here we go!

No civilization in sight. He could see the base of the pillar from where he stood now, and nothing. Not even a small base at its foot. No airships flying around. He couldn't even distinguish any light coming from the cities inside of Cocoon. Every footstep toward it felt heavier and heavier, not only because of the rising fatigue Hope felt. He stopped, tearing his eyes away from the crystallized sphere and slouching his upper body toward the ground. He rested his hands on his knees and heaved a deep, forlorn sigh.

Pulse was huge. When he and the other l'Cie had crossed the Archylte Steppes to get to Oerba, Fang had remarked that those plains were only a mere fragment of the giant planet. At least ten times larger than Cocoon. Even if there was a settlement somewhere, how would he ever find it? He couldn't traverse the fields of Gran Pulse himself, especially since he didn't have any means of defending himself, or any supplies, or warm enough clothes, for Eden's sake!

Things did not look good. He clutched the worn fabric on his knees, swallowing over and over in an attempt to not let the strangled cry in his throat slip out. Last thing he needed was to attract some starving behemoth's attention, or something like that. He caught himself almost wishing that would happen, shook his head and forced his body straight.

Knowing he had already remained in one place for too long, and feeling that his numb joints protested because of it, Hope took up his pace again and tried to push away the doubt clawing at his chest. There could be some people living in Cocoon. It was worth a shot, especially since he knew no other place to look.

He had only walked for a few more minutes when the sound of an airship was heard from behind. It flew over his head just as he spun around to confirm it. He recognized the Sanctum insignia on it and gradually stopped walking, biting back the instinct to yell for it. It had slowed down considerably, and landed just a few hundred yards away from him. One part of him felt relief, while another was concerned that it was a Sanctum airship. They weren't exactly his allies.

Feeling unease rising when a door opened on its side, a ramp descending from it, Hope wondered whether he should run away or not. But he knew it would be pointless. He was too tired, cold and confused.

Two military persons walked down the ramp from the airship and quickly jogged up to him. The woman grabbed his shoulder, while the man felt his pulse for some reason. Hope flinched when they touched him, and their smiles did little to reassure him. Of course, his suspicions were strengthened when he felt something sharp sting his neck. Only for a few seconds, after that everything seemed to fade away.

For some reason, his last thoughts, before unconsciousness claimed him completely, were of Lightning. She was looking down at him where he lay, shaking her head in disapproval, as if he'd failed some sort of test by letting himself get sedated that easily.

He promised her, and himself, that he would do better next time.

Hope's first coherent thought, as he slowly began to wake, was how warm and soft the bed he was lying in was. He let himself simply enjoy the sensation for several minutes, content with just that.

Though, he couldn't stay like that forever, staying ignorant of his situation. Opening his eyes was the first step.

A white ceiling was what he found himself staring up at. The contrast was so stark he had to immediately close his eyes again.

It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he could discover his surroundings with no difficulty. It was a small room, white. It reminded him of a hospital room, but there was no such equipment. In fact, there was pretty much nothing in it. Just a plain bed, a small drawer and a tiny window. He immediately tried to look through it, but it was no use. It was as thick as his body, and completely blurred.

He did some slow movements to confirm that nothing hurt. He realized after he had thrown the blanket off that someone had bathed and clothed him in a white pyjamas. He felt uncomfortable with the intrusion in his privacy, and wanted his own clothes. He looked around one more time, scanned the corners, looking for surveillance cameras in them, but saw nothing. He did discover a weird thing by the door however. A small box with some sort of speaker on it. Staring at it would answer no questions though. Just as he were to stand up from the bed, it crackled. The sound was so sharp it made Hope jump. A voice was heard moments later, and it confirmed his suspicions that he was indeed being watched.

"Get dressed," was all it said, then the static disappeared. Hope froze for several seconds, then he slowly inched his hand towards the small dresser and pulled open the first drawer.

There were no clothes in it, but the sight made him feel a lot better for a little while. His boomerang was lying there. However, picking it up made him realize they had modified it. The edges were no longer sharp, and its much lighter weight told him that the AMP modifier had been removed. It couldn't be classified as anything dangerous whatsoever now, and it made him feel oddly infuriated. It wasn't the same. He wondered why they had even bothered with giving it to him at all.

He dropped it back in the drawer and opened the next. A toiletry bag, judging by its appearance. He was just about to examine its content when he remembered that he was supposed to get dressed. He quickly pulled back the third drawer and found what he supposed were his clothes for the moment. Gray normal pants, gray shirt, gray socks, gray everything. The lack of colors made him feel a bit disappointed. He'd always liked colorful clothes, and he wished he at least had had his scarf. But boring clothes were better than no clothes, so he picked them up and put them on the bed.

In search for a pair of shoes, Hope opened the fourth and final drawer and discovered to his delight that his own pair of sneakers were there. His clothes may be nothing what he'd preferred, but at least his shoes were his own. It made him feel safer, even if just a little.

As soon as he was done tying his shoes, the door opened. Hope jerked his head up in time to see a tall, lab coat-donning woman walking into the room. Hope opened his mouth to say something, but her expression made him feel uneasy. There was absolutely no hint of emotion on her face, and her eyes didn't meet Hope's. They were stubbornly staring at something above his head. He held off the instinct to turn his head.

"Hope Estheim, age physically 14, former Pulse l'Cie, the only child of Bartholomew Estheim and the late Nora Estheim?" she recited mechanically as if she was reading off a script. It took him a few moments of uncomfortable silence to realize that she was waiting for a confirmation from him.

"Uh, yeah," he managed to blurt out. She walked out without another word. Hope was still thinking about how she hadn't referred to his father as 'late', as if he was alive... Maybe this wasn't so far in the future after all. Knowing there was a slight possibility that he may have at least someone left in his life made him feel a little bit happier about everything.

She returned with a chair and a clipboard, sitting as far away as possible, which only was a few feet away.

"Please only respond with yes or no," she ordered, sitting down and clicking the top of a pen. Hope wondered if she was human or not. Everything about her seemed robotic.

"Are you aware of where you are?" was the first question.

Hope almost countered it with another question, but quickly managed to catch himself before doing so. "No."

She checked a box. "Are you aware of how many years you have spent in crystal stasis?"

How'd she know that? Hope's jaw fell just a little bit in surprise. He couldn't help himself. "How do you know that I've-"

"Yes or no?" she snapped, showing some emotion for the first time; annoyance. Hope stared at her in defiance before muttering a 'no'.

She went back to her robotic state, showing no signs of her little outburst. "When you were asleep, did you dream of anything?"

He felt hesitant about answering. Just what could she possibly benefit from this? "No."

"Was it like a dreamless sleep?"

Hope furrowed his brow as he tried to remember. There had been some glimpses here and there, but generally, there was nothing to remember. "Yes."

"Did it feel like you could've decided to wake up on your own at your own preferred time?"

But he had already told her he didn't know for how long he'd been out. Hope pursed his lips and shook his head. It qualified as an answer enough. He didn't want to actively answer questions.

It continued on in the same style. Oddly specific questions that left himself more and more confused. He desperately wanted to ask her something, but he didn't dare defy her once more.

She didn't say anything as they finished, but simply stood up and left the room without another word. Hope's tongue almost hurt of desire to shout some questions after her.

She had left the door open, but didn't return herself. Hope stared at the white corner he could see from the doorway. Slowly, as if testing the rules, standing up from the bed, he tensed with the expectation that he would be punished, in some way.

But no alarms sounded, nor did any red lights start to blink, as he had somewhat anticipated there would be, going from his previous experiences with the Sanctum. He tried to keep a normal pace as he walked up to and through the door. Outside was a short corridor that led to what seemed to be an elevator door. Right in front of his door was another door, with the letters WC on it.

Was that it? Was he allowed to leave? There were no guards around. He walked towards the elevator, but he found no way to open it. The feeling that he was being watched strengthened, and he snapped his head up toward the ceiling, expecting to see some security cameras or something. Despite that he didn't discover anything of the sort, it still felt like he was being surveillanced.

He opened the other door and revealed a tiny bathroom, just as white and sterile-looking as everything else. A toilet, a shower and a sink was all that was in it. He quickly stepped up to the sink, taking a few gulps of water and splashing some in his face. It was clean, much to his relief. Not that he hadn't really expected it to not be. Everything here reminded him of a hospital.

Maker, this situation confused him. What could they possibly want from him? If they were holding him prisoner… This facility was way too luxurious for that. Torture? Testing? He needed answers!

How long would he be here? Why was he here? Where was he? The questions whirled around in his head, stinging him all over. His head felt oddly numb. He staggered back to the bedroom again and sat down on the bed. There was nothing to entertain himself with. He picked up his boomerang and unfolded it. It really wasn't dangerous anymore. He could drag his palm along its edge as hard as he could, and nothing happened.

So helpless. He couldn't escape, he could only hope they wouldn't keep him for much longer, or at least inform him of something.

Every morning, for one year, five months, and ten days and counting, was the same.

Bartholomew Estheim awoke with a start in his dark and quiet house. His sleep hadn't been very refreshing, and he felt just as exhausted as he had done going to bed the night before, but he knew, from experience, that this was as good as it was going to get. He reached to turn on the bedside lamp, squinting when the sharp light stung his eyes. After his eyes had adjusted, he put on his glasses and went to take a short shower. Afterward, he got dressed in his usual clothes.

"I trust you aren't in contact with the other former Pulse l'Cie?" Victoria Allen's blue-gray eyes were fixated to a point above Bartholomew's head. He was happy with the absence of eye contact, since her eyes weren't exactly pleasant to look into. He focused on her forehead instead.

"No, ma'am." The lie rolled off his tongue smoothly. His eyes never swayed from the small wrinkle between her eyes. Of course he was still speaking to them. If he would have any chance getting his son before the SRI snatched him, he needed them. And they needed a person inside the Sanctum. While Bartholomew knew he wasn't important enough to know just when exactly Hope did wake up, it did help to have connections inside.

"I'm sure you are aware of this, but we have access to every one of their lines. When your son awakes, and he calls from the communicator unit they have left near him, we will know immediately, and we will step in to ensure his safety."

Even though she revealed no more, he knew what would happen next. The Sanctum Research Institute would take his son as soon as he woke up, perform a series of tests on him, and hopefully manage to find a way to restore Cocoon to its former self, to remove it from its crystal shell and revive the dormant fal'Cie.

"Understood." Though he certainly didn't approve.

"You are dismissed."

Bartholomew nodded and stood up. When his back was turned to her, he finally let the disgusted grimace show.

There was no way they could let them get Hope. Not only was the idea of restoring Cocoon was… absurd, to say the least, according to Bartholomew, and a lot of other people still working for Sanctum, but Bartholomew didn't even know what kind of tests they would do on him. They thought a newly decrystallized person would give them the answer. They had apparently missed the time window with the others, and now their only chance lay in Hope, still a motion- and soundless crystal.

He wanted his son back. He wanted the only part left of his family back. His life was just so empty. Work. That was really all he did now. As soon as he had his son back, Bartholomew planned to quit his job at the Sanctum, or, more likely, get fired, and try to join the newly formed, independent research institute. Instead of trying to go back to things they were, like the Sanctum, this new party focused on trying to make life on Gran Pulse as livable as possible. Bartholomew wanted to help do that.

He thought… that's what Hope would have wanted.