I did not die. My muse certainly did however. Oops.

Again, this is unbeta-ed, I'll get around to finding someone to edit these for y'all. Preemptive apologies for any horrendous grammar errors.

My work is shutting down in three months, it's a bit surreal. If I can't find another job before then maybe I'll finish this story while I wallow in my laid off misery. :D

Without further ado, enjoy!

"Woah now, easy! Easy!"

"Oi, stop going so fast!"

"Maybe you should haul your ass for once!"

Shouts, barked orders and a healthy amount of swears accompanied the guards in the middle of carrying the rather heavy baby grand piano down the concrete steps of the recreation building. At the bottom, Jihl kept a close eye on them. At every bang, clunk and smack she flinched and bitterly cursed Cid's name. After the disasterific incident that ended up with Sazh in the hospital Cid decided that holding the piano lessons in the storage room was not safe.

So, instead the lessons will be held in the gymnasium. The noisy, rank gymnasium. Jihl's joy was endless. Arms crossed over her chest, she tapped a finger in vexation. She was beginning to think coming to Her Eminence as a grave mistake. Nothing has gone smoothly at all, and it was still her first day.

"Ah! There we go!" The more rotund guard cried joyously as the feet of the piano touched down on the main floor. They paused for a moment to wipe off the beading sweat on their foreheads before continuing.

"Don't worry, Miss. Nabaat! We'll put 'er in a nice sunny spot!" The slimmer guard said in an attempt to sound reassuring, giving Jihl a wink. She rolled her eyes, not feeling the least bit reassured. They pushed the piano across the gymnasium, past the ancient excercise machines and convicts playing basketball to the spot originally designated for dance lessons. Not moving an inch from where she stood, Jihl examined the new home for the piano. Just as she suspected; noisy basketball games, smelly gym mats and hardly any privacy. The only upside was the large arched windows.

It will have to do. With a sigh she spun on her heels and quickly departed from the recreation hall. Time to pay someone a visit.

Hot, thick anger burned through her veins. Her heart pounded frantically. Jerking violently, the leather restraint cracked the air loudly but refused to give in. Lightning's mind was a projector flickering through images of her thoughts, blurring by at a sickening speed. She wanted out. She needed out. The tight grip of leather holding her down panicked her, brought up memories better left alone.

'Claire, will you come here for a moment?' He smiled, gesturing for her obedience. It was the same smile he had before Mom left...

She shook her head, pushing against the restraints in another desperate attempt for freedom.

Her fingers ached. The row of ivory teeth sparkled under the lamp, mocking her. Blearily she wiped a stray tear before flipping the page to the finish. When the final note died away she sighed, lifting her sore hand up for inspection. She was somewhat surprised to see no blood.

'Ahem,' The harsh sound of her teacher clearing her throat startled her. Bowed head in guilt, she turned to face the stern man, 'Until you can play Shwendel's C minor concerto flawlessly, I do not want to see your hands idle.'

Her eyes stared up at the water-stained ceiling, blank as her memories replayed unbidden.

'Claaaiirree!' The indignant bellow only spurred the older girl to grin. She watched the sparkling blue eyes narrow in frustration, 'Give him back to me!' Short, little arms shot out in another attempt to snatch the stuffed toy from her hand.

Lightning just barely perceived the rusty creak of the observation window opening. She closed her eyes, trying to control her haggared breathing. It has been so long. Five long years since she thought about her life before prison. The sight of that damn piano brought it all back. Brought the Cocoon size weight of Lightning's past crashing back down on her.

'Serah, stop!' Claire cried out, running after the pink haired girl who was charging straight to the ocean. Her heart leap to her throat when she saw the girl crash into a particularily large wave, giggling uncontrollably. Stomping through the salty water, she grabbed the chocobo floatie wrapped around Serah's waist and began dragging her back to shore.

'Cl-ai-re!' The loud whine only made Claire grit her teeth.

'Shush! Mom said you hafta wait an hour! Or else a nasty ol' sahagin will smell you and gobble you up.' She glared at the floatie gripped in her hands, 'Doesn't help at all that cher wearin' this.'

'You are so annoying!' Serah rolled her eyes, wiggling in protest. Claire glared down at her sister's furious crystal blue eyes, far more vivid under the endless blue sky above.

"I will have you know I find you absolutely abhorrent." The controlled, sterile voice of Jihl Nabaat drew Lightning partially out of her muddled thoughts. She didn't want to care why the woman was visiting her. For the first time in five years outside of her dreams Lightning was thinking about Serah. Emotions other than indifference and anger overwhelmed her.

"However, I find you have an exceptional talent. A gift." The voice continued in spite of the lack of response from Lightning. Guilt, sadness and self-reproach flared through her as Serah dominated her thoughts. Twisting against the bindings, Lightning felt her throat tighten painfully as a scream threatened to explode.

"I feel that this gift shouldn't be wasted, let to rot in this prison. I have no idea where you learned to play nor do I care. Trash pulsian music like that is worthless." Jihl's insistance for her attention infuriated Lightning. She snarled, opening her eyes to glare at the blonde purposely not looking at her,

"Fuck off!" Lightning spat, it was this cold hearted bitch's fault for her current state. She found a sick sort of satisfaction when Jihl pursed her lips, shoulders tensing. Maybe now she will screw off and mess up someone else's life.

"Once you paid for what you have done to Mr. Katzroy today," A sharp inhale followed before Jihl resumed, "I will help you. Not help you as a person, Etro forbid that impossible task, but in effort in nurturing the gift. To help you become a better pianist."

Lightning fell silent, stunned and confused. Jihl all but freaked out earlier at the thought of teaching her and now she's changed her mind? Jihl stood up, straightening her cardigan as she walked to the solitary confinement door,

"Think about it." And was gone. Lightning laid there, still as she pondered over Jihl's bizarre behaviour. Her respite did not last long. Slowly, tendrils of her poisoned thoughts crept back in. Clenching her eyes shut, Lightning felt scalding tears slip down her cheek.

The dank, musky odour curled in her nose as she tried to ignore it. Another shockwave shook more dust and debris down, forcing her to stifle a sneeze. The cobwebs swayed from the air pressure pushed down the decaying brick corridor. Chills ran down her spine, stomach tense with fear.

She continued on, hand clutched over her racing heart. She had to find her, no matter how much she wanted to crawl into a safe corner. She won't rest until her hand met hers again. Panting heavily, she clutched the wall as another violent tremor shook her surroundings. There was no way the building above could withstand such a heavy assault for much longer.

She ducked her head as military personnel pushed by, too panicked to care that a nurse wasn't suppose to be down these corridors. A small exhale of relief as she continued on.

Tap tap tap

Jihl stirred, frowning at the peculiar sound. Pushing herself up from the unorthodox position in the armchair, she glanced around her living room before resting her eyes on the source of her interruption. A grinning, waving boy at her window.

"Hey, were you sleeping?" He called out, gripping the stil to get a better look in. Jihl's eyebrow jerked involuntarily in annoyance. The imprudence of children these days!

"No." Was her curt reply as she stood up. Sweeping her bangs from her eyes, she walked over to the window where the boy was. She stared down at the intruder, watching him struggle to gain a better view inside.

"Ungh!" A rather loud grunt announced the arrival of Sazh Katzroy. The boy promptly stopped his endeavour. Jihl arched a brow at the sight of the brace around Sazh's neck, along with the buises and scratches generously dispersed along him.

"He still can't speak well!" Said what Jihl now assumed was Sazh's son, "I'm Dahj! Nice to meet you!"

"Is that so?" Jihl let out a small huff of air through her nose before leaving the window. She weaved by some boxes yet to be unpacked to the front door. Opening it she saw the father and son giving each other quizzical looks, still by the windows. "If you insist on treating my windows as a point of entry, I'm afraid I will not accept your company."

With a start they walked over to Jihl, properly greeting her as they stepped inside. Giving her blouse collar a tug, Jihl realized just how messy her apartment was. She simply did not have enough time with all the madness going on to really devote much time to settling in.

"Please excuse the mess. Would you care for some tea?" Taking Sazh's brief grunt as a yes, she headed to her kitchen to turn the kettle on. Waiting for the water to boil, Jihl tapped her fingers against the countertop in irritation. She could hear the boy, Dahj, shuffling around with her boxes. Jihl disliked people visiting her home. She also disliked perky kids sticking their noses in things where they shouldn't be.

"Is this your husband?" Dahj's abrupt question took Jihl off-guard. She looked to see him holding up a picture of her great uncle, one he dug out from one of her closed boxes.

"No, I don't have a husband. Put that back." She snapped, pouring the now boiling water into the teapot. Setting the pot onto the tray, she headed back over where Sazh sat.

"Is your husband dead?" Sazh mumbled angerly at his son, gesturing for him to stop. Jihl sighed as she set the tray down on her coffee table.

"No. I devoted my life to beauty alone..." She trailed off, pouring Sazh's cup. The man gestured for his son to come over, whispering into his ear. Jihl could hear the strain it took for even that.

"Elisund in Elisund." Dahj dutifully repeated for his father. Jihl gave a slight nod.

"This image is magically beautiful..." More strangled whispering.

"What?" Jihl set the teapot back on the table, watching Dahj's brow furrow in confusion. His father tried again.

"Desmond in The Magic Moogle." Jihl clucked her tongue, shaking her head.

"The Magic Mithril." She sipped her tea, wincing as it burned her tongue, "And you shall be..."

"And you shall be my lord!" Dahj added his own special embelishment, giggling as Sazh nudged his side, "Gabrell in Gabrell." He finished, grabbing one of the tea cookies Jihl graciously offered.

"So all of that studying was some use." Jihl finally relented her impromtu quizz, observing the shower of crumbs trailing Dahj's path with distaste as he headed to her old fashion televison. She took another sip before continuing conversation, "All of the guards miss you."

Sazh hissed at his son, gesturing for him to stop fooling with the televison and come back to help him. Dahj sighed and abandoned his mission of finding the cartoon channel to resume his spot next to his father, "How's the Farron doing, Daddy says."

"Mmm, she has a month of solitary." Jihl leaned back, "Not a minute less."

Sazh nodded before whispering another message to his son. "Daddy says he's not gonna let her off easily when he returns," Dahj kicked his feet, giggling as he finished off his fifth cookie. Jihl sipped her tea, smiling in grim amusement.

Eyes closed, Lightning felt every inch of her body relax for probably the first time in her life. After a handy pill of valium from the prison nurse, the guards finally let her free from the restraints, something Lightning was rather thankful of. She was still in the barren room with the highly uncomfortable bed. Of course, to the bratty Lightning the solitary confinement bed was hardly a step down from the pathetic excuses for a mattress the prison put in their usual cells. Head rested on the gym mat like cushioning meant to prevent concussions from convicts slamming their heads violently about, Lightning scoffed outloud.

This whole month of isolation was a joke too, if they thought that it would cause any sort of suffering to the loner. Lightning realized quickly once the happy pills kicked in that this cell was possibly the best place in the whole prison. Silence. Pure silence. If you ignored the rusty squeal of the observation window opening every fifteen minutes. Tracing her finger along a knot in the wood of the bed, Lightning resisted from grinning from ear to ear. She knew that the moment she gave them any hint she was enjoying this it would end faster than she could say 'racing chocobos'.

Valium is one hell of a drug, Lightning came to realize too. On any normal day would she never allow herself to think such a phrase as racing chocobos. The fact that it also tucked her maddening memories off far, far away in a hazy cloud instantly put the drug on her good side. Even to much of the guard's surprise, on her second day in the hole she requested pen and paper to write an 'apology'to that horrid bitch Nabaat. No amount of affability would ever inspire Lightning to write 'sorry', please or 'thank you', however, so the letter mainly consisted of her saying she would accept Nabaat's offer. In a roundabout manner.

Lightning certainly did not perceive any amount of difficulty from Nabaat in accepting the letter. The woman in fact should be gracious she has been the recipient of any sort of addressal from Lightning. Chuckling under her breath, Lightning was sure she could blame Valium for her abnormal cockiness.

Lightning did truely mean it when she said she wanted to continue piano. The moment she laid eyes on that instrument something clicked inside of her, a lost piece of her settled back in place. Minus all that forced reflection of her past life, she finally felt somewhat alive in that moment when her fingers finally touched the keys.

She haven't felt that since she before - no. Not enough time has passed for her to even think of it. No amount of Valium would keep her placated if she kicked that wasp nest again.

Footsteps on the otherside of the heavily reinforced steel door was heard before the distinctive noise of the cuff slot opening up, "Hands." The gruff voice of the guard other convicts like to call 'Hewie' ordered. Cracking her rather sore neck as she stood up, Lightning stuck her hands obediently through the opening to allow Hewie slap on hand cuffs. Pulling back from the door as it opened she raised her brow, wondering what was up.

"You got a visitor. Get moving." He wasn't one for words. Lightning let the small breath she was holding go, relieved that they didn't discover she was actually enjoying her punishment. The bigger mystery was who would possibly want to visit her? Or rather, who would Lightning want to visit her? She couldn't think of a single soul.

Arriving at the door to the room where visitors could meet with more viotile inmates like Lightning, she sent out a small prayer that it wasn't him OR him. Giving Hewie a look when he opened the door for her, she walked in.

It was Nabaat. Joys abound.

Lightning maintained her neutral expression as she sat down on the chair in front of the woman watching her with a steely look. Playing with the hand cuffs clinking at her wrist, she quickly recognized the wrinkly piece of paper in Nabaat's hand. It was her letter.

Clearing her throat, Nabaat wasted not a moment, "There is a rather blatant lack of 'sorry', 'please' and 'thank you' in your letter." Lightning mentally cursed the woman as she watched the obsessively waxed eyebrow curl up. Arrogant. Resting her head on one hand while nibbling on a nonexistant nail from the other hand, she decided to give the woman what she wanted,

"Sorry. Please. Thank you." Nabaat's face remained stony, her cold blue eyes not even showing a flicker of emotion. A loud screech from a child in the neighbouring visiting hall drifted in through the open window. Lightning continued nibbling on her nail, waiting for Nabaat to respond.

"Eat it." The older woman handed the letter over the plexiglass divider. Lightning blinked in surprise. She certainly wasn't expecting anything of that sort from such an uptight bitch.

"You want me to eat the letter?" She stopped her compulsive habit, ignoring the paper when Nabaat casted it at her.

"Eat it."

Lightning let out a derisive snort, "Why should I?"

"Rule number one."

"What'll rule number two make me eat?" Lightning snarked. Nabaat tapped her finger, glancing down for a moment before meeting Lightning's challenging glare.

"Some healthy lessons of humility will benefit, most certainly. Rule number one is humility. I expect you to do whatever I say with no complaints. Not with words or glances. None at all."

If Lightning was any other person, her jaw would have dropped incredulously at such absurd words the older woman was spewing, "You want me to be your simpering slave?" She leaned forward, her lip curling in a sneer. Nabaat sat for a moment, face still blank of any emotions Lightning could discern. Then she pushed back the chair and headed to the door.

"Fine, okay!" Lightning gave in, feeling an unfamiliar seize of panic, "Hey! I got it, it's a deal." Nabaat began twisting the handle of the door open, not looking back.

"Sit down," Lightning implored, her pride taking major hits, but she would be damned if she couldn't touch the piano again after having a taste of something she haven't had in so long, "Sit back down, please?" Nabaat stopped her current action, spun on her heels, and walked back to her chair. Resting her hands on the back, she leaned forward to stare directly at Lightning.

Begrudgingly swallowing down the last of her pride, Lightning balled up her letter, "I'll be your pathetic slave." And stuffed the paper ball in her mouth, chewing. Nabaat watched her for a good moment as Lightning worked on the tough material. Another obnoxious squeal came from the open window, to which Nabaat closed with a relenting sigh.

"Rule number two: your hands. You'll need them, so stop that disgusting habit." Lightning exhaled heavily through her nose, dropping her hand from her mouth, "Rule number three: you stink. I refuse to be in the presence of someone who can't even bathe herself properly."

Her throat tightened with anger, wanting to retort that there was a distinct lack of oppertunities for showering when your freedom is greatly restricted. Nabaat continued, "Rule number four: the contest."

"The contest?" Lightning questioned, sweeping away a stray lock of hair.

"There is a piano contest for upcoming talents under the age of twenty-one. I expect you to reach the finals." The expression on Nabaat's face dared Lightning to protest.

"The girl deserves a chance."

"Yes."

"That brat?"

"Rygdea, why not?"

"Don't call me Rygdea. She put Sazh out of commision for weeks, she's under strict confinement, and you let her hit the keys all day?" The man looked around at the others, "Is that just?"

Jihl listened to the useless argument, rolling her hand back and forth across the pencil resting on the table, exasperated.

"Consider the situation on hand." Gracie insisted, glaring into Rygdea's stubborn blue eyes.

"Oh please!" Rygdea waved his hand, as if offended by the mere thought.

"You are so bullheaded!" Was her venomous reply.

"Mr. Kase, let your wife finish." Cid interjected, trying to keep some control over the meeting regarding the troublesome Lightning Farron.

"Ex-wife!" Rygdea corrected hotly, not at all pleased to be in the same field of work with the woman. At the unimpressed look on Cid's face, he gestured for Gracie to continue.

"I believe the best course of action is to support Lightning. Her file shows inferences-"

She was cut off again by Rygdea, the other members of the meeting let out a sigh, "Inferences? She basically slaughtered the guy!"

"Wait a minute!" The priest protested, "Let's not-"

"He's right, though!" The prison nurse argued back before the man could even finish.

"Please!" Cid raised his hands, soothing the tense atmosphere only by a fraction, "We are all adults here." Rygdea scoffed, shaking his head."Do continue, Gracie."

"Thank you." She nodded to the warden, "Lightning has no contact to her family or anyone outside. Not that she seems to care. She has no psychological parents or any perspectives. "

"And what do you suggest?"

"A few piano lessons."

Jihl left the table, rubbing her temples. "Where exactly will that lead us!"

"Mr. Kase..."

"Listen, I represent the officers and employees of Her Eminence. Where will it lead us if we reward the perpetrators?"

"It's useless." Jihl made her way to the fish tank, freshly stocked. Grabbing the container of food flakes, she sprinkled a pinch in.

"She almost kills a guard, then gets to make joyful tunes all day." She observed the fish as they lunged to the food, stirring up a frenzy. The argument behind her continued.

"I simply refuse such a thing!"

"Miss. Nabaat."Brushing her hand clean of the food dust, Jihl looked over to see Cid and the rest looking at her expectantly.

"I don't know." Came her honest reply on the matter.

"Well, how successful could the inmate possibly be in the contest?" Rygdea inquired. Jihl resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the annoying man.

"I daresay she could win first place." Folding her arms over her chest, she strolled around the table, "Which would be a success for all of us. Oh and of course, a personal victory for you, Mr. Raines."

Lightning spat at the ground, hackles bristling at the mention of contests, "And what's in it for me?"

"Rule number five: this is not about you." Nabaat smirked then, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. That was the last straw. Lightning leaned forward, her wounded pride fuelling her ire,

"When I was that screaming kid's age, I performed in Palumpolum, Nautilus and Eden." Her voice throaty, dangerous, "At ten I had played numerous contests all throughout Cocoon and Pulse. Over half I won," She turned her head away from the glimmer of curiousity that grew in Nabaat's eyes, "My father desired to shape me into Slauden. When I quit at twelve, he-" Lightning stopped there, her vocal cords refusing to work. Thankfully. It nearly slipped out.

Balling up her fists, Lightning pressed them against her eyes, forcing herself to regain composure, "I really do not feel like some stupid contest." Slamming her hands down, she looked back up to see Nabaat nod her head in a manner one could say was casual.

"Then it might be best to go back to rule number one." Nabaat's frigid blue glare met with Lightning's own fiery blue.

*dramatic musical flourish*

Things are building up, what could it all mean? That's for me to know and for you to find out!

In Chapter Four of Four Minutes Nabaat and Lightning finally have their first official piano lesson together! Stay tuned to find out the next development!