Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII, any credit for characters, events or places goes to Square Enix and their affiliates.

Summary: "She's got them all tricked, Lightning Farron realizes well into the fourth day, wrapped around her finger like a damned ribbon. But as is her nature, Lightning doesn't point it out, doesn't breathe a word, rather, she lets things fall as they will. Because she's just like her." Gen-fic. Lightning and Vanille centric.

Author's Note: First post in a long time, thought you deserved something, but don't even ask, really, I don't know what this is about. It all sort of came pouring out of nowhere while listening to Colors by Crossfade. Has remained unedited and unchanged; posted it as is. My first "Vanille" fic—though, it's told from Lightning's point of view. A drabble on something I really only briefly considered.

/Can you feel it crush you? Does it seem to bring the worst in you out?
There's no running away from these things that hold you down./

Crossfade

Cornflower eyes observe, watch the scenes play out.

"Come on, Sazh," she calls. "Don't fall behind."

"Hold ya horses, kid. Men like me aren't made for walkin'" he gripes.

And she has been watching the smallest of their group for a while now—gone unnoticed, unrealized for so long—and has seen the spell Vanille has weaved around their hearts and minds; she's got them all tricked, Lightning Farron realizes well into the fourth day, wrapped around her finger like a damned ribbon. But as is her nature, Lightning doesn't point it out, doesn't breathe a word, rather, she lets things fall as they will.

Vanille has a way with people, much like Lightning herself has, knows, but entirely different in all the best and worst ways. She goes about it by lying, pretending and concealing. Unknown to all but her—and Lightning suspects even Fang doesn't know the full extent of it all—Vanille is hiding something, and she's damned good at it too. It doesn't take her long to figure it out, another lonely night of watch, another night of lonely thoughts.

Lightning recognizes a distraction tactic when she sees it, she's always had a head for strategy, and she's actually acutely proud of the way Vanille goes about it. She pretends, you see, to be something she isn't; an innocent, naïve little girl, Vanille is not. There are moments, like in the heat of battle, or of their pitiful campfire at night, that Lightning catches a glimpse of something deeper; a sparkle, perhaps, in the young Oerban's eye, an intelligence and understanding, a knowledge of the worlds and their cruelties that Lightning is hard pressed to even consider enquiring about.

So, she doesn't.

It is far easier to watch from a distance, a bystander. But Lightning cannot be a simple bystander either, and she knows this. And she knows Vanille is aware of her, of her own tricks; that too, Lightning sometimes catches in her eye. But neither of them will breathe a word, she knows. It's easier to leave things where they lie. Who are they to judge, when they're playing the same game?

Sure, they may not talk to each other, interact, or even so much as walk together, but there is a camaraderie there that baffles those that travel with them. Because they cannot see what the two of them plainly can. Both of them have seen the world, know of its horrors, and have come out changed; they are black and white, yin and yang, complete opposites in almost every way, yet inexplicably the same.

For Lightning, she chooses to push people away from her, keep her problems to herself, leave those she cares about unburdened by her plentiful worries and concerns, her shortcomings and her weaknesses. She does it out of love, however misguided it sounds, because she doesn't want to see them hurt. Vanille is different in approach, but no less self-sacrificial. Vanille hides behind a mask of happiness and cheer, pretends not to have the guilt and sorrow that Lightning can so plainly see, so potent and heavy that it hurts—because if she can't see it, it isn't there, right? And Lightning feels something pass between them in every meeting of pained eyes, hidden behind veils.

Whatever Vanille reads in her own, Lightning cannot decipher, but she knows the girl is sympathetic. The two of them are really not so different. To their companions, they may seem distant, unknowing of each other, but they do not know what lies beneath, a bond, a tie deeper than they could imagine. They know each other like they know their hand, themselves, because they are like mirror images, the two of them. Lightning could have gone either way, she knows, to protect her sister; she could have pretended to live on, be the person she had always been until it led her to breaking, or act as she chose.

Either way, she couldn't imagine it would have had much difference.

Without a doubt, Lightning knows that no matter what could have been changed, something brought her to that point in her life; to Anima, to being branded, to becoming Cocoon's destruction or salvation.

She suspects Vanille, too, knows this truth.

Though they have been born in different times, different worlds, they have been brought together for something bigger than themselves. And in the end they will make a decision, she knows, they know; they will save Cocoon, or they will watch it burn. Some days, Lightning leans to the former, others, she considers taking it down herself. Whichever she chooses, she is painfully aware that, if it comes down to it, they will side with her; she is their unspoken leader, and though they haven't even begun to understand her, they will bend to her will eventually. Sometimes, though, looking at Vanille, it makes her want to continue on.

Lightning knows the terrors of her comrades pasts, has her fair share of her own. They are good people, she has learned, they don't deserve what fate and fal'Cie have laid out for them—even Snow, who annoys her on her best days. They deserve to live on, have a future, lead the life she never got to live; even if she doesn't make it past Eden, she knows she wants them to see their Focus through. Especially Vanille. Because there is a darkness in her green eyes that makes Lightning wonder just how much she's seen and lost, how much blood has been spilt on her account; and Lightning knows it isn't a small figure. And looking at her, for a split second, Lightning sees herself, and Serah, lost and confused, newly orphaned and with nowhere to go. And she knows.

More than anything, anyone, she wants to give Vanille a chance at a future.

Lightning doesn't tell anyone, even Hope, her motivations. They assume blindly that it is her sister, but she knows that is only a useless venture; even if they save her, Serah is Snow's, and Lightning accepts that. No, her motivations have changed over time. Now, it's about protecting those she loves, providing them safety, a future, above all. After all, what point is completing their Focus is there's nothing to go back to?

So as she spearheads the hunting party, everyone split into haphazard groups behind her, for once, Lightning doesn't allow herself to be lost in her concerns for the future. Rather, glancing back at green eyes, which catch hers for a moment with equal intensity, Lightning lets the ghost of a smile shine through. Because she knows she's found a kindred spirit, someone more like her than even Hope, who reminded her too much of herself to be anything but uncomfortable. Lightning knows she's found something to protect and nurture, Fang's presence be damned.

"Hurry it up, Sazh," she calls to the puffing man in the back. "Don't want to get left behind, after all." But she'll call a break in five minutes anyway, she knows, looking at the kids' faces—pink and sticky with sweat.

Lightning had always been weak for a child's tears, silent or otherwise, and even if Vanille doesn't show them, Lightning knows they've always been there, a storm brewing inside. She can only hope she'll be there the day that storm hits its peak, and she can't go on anymore. Because Lightning knows it'll come. There's no running away from the kinds of things that weigh down on her. After all, she's experienced it herself, and Vanille's just like her.

So much like her.

More than she could have imagined.