Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII, and all characters and locations mentions herein are the property of Square Enix and their affiliates. The lyrics above the title are for Roses by Poets of the Fall.

Author's Note: I wrote this within an hour of having wrote Perception, and although it's not as long or pleasing to read, for me at least, I am still somewhat fond of it. Though as usual, the end leaves something to be desired. I mention a few things in here that aren't canon, but just go with it. The appropriate warnings are below.

Summary: Yes, roses were perfect for Lightning, Fang decided. Beautiful, but bellying something more dangerous. Some time very soon, if she didn't calm the storm ahead, Lightning would show just how dangerous that part of her could be. But first, if she was going to pluck every one of those thorns from Lightning, one by one, she would need some rest. Hints of Flight; Fang/Lightning.

Warnings: AU/AH; Lightning's parents died in a car crash together, along with other factors. Fang and Vanille are mysteriously back from crystal stasis. Not going to be compliant to whatever comes up in XIII-2. Mentions of yuri. Suggested Flight; Fang/Lightning—which you should all known by now is my main pairing.

/So when I'm crying alone, yeah, when I'm cold as a dying stone.
Grow me a garden of roses, paint me the colors of sky and rain.
Teach me to speak with their voices.
Show me the way and I'll try again./

Roses

Fang had never known the significance of the woman's signature motif, of the shape of her stone, until long after she and Vanille had escaped crystal statis. She had always thought that roses were an unusual symbol to associate with the straight-edged, no-nonsense soldier; of course, back then, Fang had never really known Lightning, not like she knew her now.

Once she really stopped and took the time to watch her, no longer under pressure, no longer having to wait for her friends to become Cie'th, Fang could see so much. Really, since she had become a l'Cie the first time around, she had never stopped to observe the world around her, intent on completing their, her and Vanille's, mission with single-minded focus. Looking back on it, did that make her a hypocrite for always chastising Lightning for doing the same?

Now, watching Lightning stop to ruffle Hope's hair with a soft smile because he picked up something from the market for her. Watching her willingly succumb to Serah's hugs, despite her aversion to contact, because Serah was her sister and she loved her. Watching her treat Snow with grudging respect and civility because Serah loved him, and he made her happy. It was all so easy for her to see, admire the softness underneath. Despite it, she never said a word.

Lightning was exactly like a rose, she found; thorns coated her outside to warn away threats, but to those that handled her properly, Lightning treated carefully and affectionately in return, if subtly. Fang herself was not blind to the way the soldier, who had attained her once coveted officer training, and now made a name for herself as Lt. Colonel, was nice to even her.

Why, Fang had craved to know however, did Lightning hide the way she so obviously cared for her friends and family? Why did Lightning tread around them now like just a word and they would snap? There were so many questions she had about Lightning that it almost consumed her.

It took some prompting, a few cautious debates and arguments, but Fang finally wrestled the answer from her little sister as to why it was Lightning acted like she did. In the end, it all came back to the name Claire, and the person the name denoted—Lightning's past had always been foggy to her, but she could not forget that story, told one night in confidence on the wilds of the Archylte Steppe.

From what Fang had learned, the crash that took their parents, Lightning's name and her future had taken more than that, had given more back.

It had taken Lightning's confidence when it came to those she loved.

Lightning had gotten into a destructive fight with her father about who she was then dating, a girl that Fang didn't catch the name of—and wasn't that a shocker? She never would of pinned Lightning for the type, and she made a note to hit on her again at a future date. But apparently, Mr. Farron hadn't been particularly accepting of the relationship, and an hour into the fight, had stormed off, his wife in tow to cool his head. He had no idea he would be driving off to their death, and leaving his two wonderful, innocent daughters orphans.

But that wasn't the real kicker. The real kicker?

Lightning's last words to them had been more than tragic. In true teenager fashion, she had told them both at a yell that she "hated them" and "wished they were dead." And Fang could only imagine how painful and guilty Lightning had felt when she had gotten the news of their deaths.

It really hadn't been Lightning's fault, but as always, as headstrong as she was, the soldier wouldn't accept that. No matter what Serah or anyone told her, Lightning wouldn't, and as her behavior proved, and had never stopped, blaming herself. It was a heartbreaking revelation. Honestly, it explained a lot. Lightning was careful not to express any words of hate of cruelty anymore; the affair with Serah becoming a l'Cie and, quote, the "worst birthday ever" had probably only reinforced that idea.

Lightning had a natural way with words, Fang knew that just listening to the speeches—impressive and motivating—that Lightning had given them during their travels as l'Cie. It was a shame she would waste that, simply because she was afraid of upsetting someone she cared about.

She could see, looking at her, the stress written across Lightning's face, the circles almost unnoticeable under her eyes. Lightning never told any of them what she truly felt, and while Fang suspected that was just a part of her personality, she also knew that it wasn't healthy. Everyone needed a confidante, someone to vent to when things got stressful, to the point of exploding. And Fang was just waiting for the explosion. Yes, roses were perfect for Lightning, Fang decided. Beautiful, but bellying something more dangerous. Some time very soon, if she didn't calm the storm ahead, Lightning would show just how dangerous that part of her could be.

She was more than enough to handle Lightning if she got violent, Fang thought, closing her eyes that night. After all, though the soldier may have been fast, she didn't have the strength to forcibly overpower Fang, and in the end, in their spars, that was often her defeat.

Though, as an almost forgotten memory of Palumpolum popped up, Fang's eyes slid lazily open, and she rubbed her jaw, feeling the ghost of pain in her chin. Hm, maybe it would be best if she avoided Lightning's right hook though. The soldier may not have been as strong as her, but that didn't mean she didn't throw a good punch. She was sure her jaw would never be the same after that. The bruises she had took almost a small overdose of potions and healing magic for Hope to heal once they arrived at his house that day.

Grin growing slightly wider in memory, Fang fluffed her pillow up some and closed her eyes again, intent on getting some strong shut eye. If she was going to pluck every one of those thorns from Lightning, one by one, she would need some rest, after all.

Yes, the next day would be the beginning of something new for Lightning. Hopefully something good.