For everything that could have been

At least we took the ride

There's no relief in bitterness

Might as well let it die.

-Pendulum, Encoder

Chapter Thirteen

Bartholomew was perfect.

Even when he'd still been in the hospital, a squirming pink form lying in the incubator, various wires and tubes attached to him as he wriggled and squalled between naps, he had been perfect. And six weeks later, as she stared down at him as he slept in the crib at home, he was still perfect.

Lightning hadn't known she could feel so much love for something. Looking at him, seeing so much of Hope's features in his tiny round face, from the bright green eyes to the silvery wisps of hair that had started sprouting on his scalp, she felt like her heart was full to bursting. She thought that the feeling would wear off, but it only seemed to grow every day, every minute, every second.

The long, agonizing weeks that he spent in the hospital, the frustration of trying to pump out even a few drops of breast milk that was so vital for him (though now she was having the opposite problem, she had ruined a fair number of shirts from leakage at this point), the sleepless nights as she stared at her alarm clock, waiting for it to be morning so she could see her son again, the pain and healing process from the C-section, the ungodly amount of crying she had done in Hope's arms - it was all worth it, just to have Bartholomew home.

She dropped her hand into the crib, her fingertip just touching his palm. With a toothless yawn, he seized her finger and stuck it in his mouth. Finding no milk, he crumpled up his face, and Lightning braced herself for the ensuing cry…but he simply fell asleep again.

Perfect.

She reluctantly left the nursery, leaving the door open a crack, and went into the living room. The TV was on, the volume turned down to a low drone, and Hope was asleep on the couch, hands tucked under his arms, lips parted. She smiled, leaned over the back, and reached down to brush his hair out of his face; he stirred, blinking up at her, his eyes bigger versions of their sons.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

He sat up and stretched, his spine cracking. "That sounds like it felt good," Lightning remarked.

"It did. Come here."

She walked around the back of the couch and sat beside him, head on his shoulder. He pressed his lips to the side of her head.

"How's Bartholomew?"

"Perfect."

Hope smiled against her hair. "As always."

"I feel like the past month has been a dream," Lightning said. "And now you're starting your job tomorrow…" She frowned. "I guess I have to go back to work soon too."

"Don't," Hope said.

She lifted her head to look at him. "Why?"

"Because." He pushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Because you've been through a lot, and you need a break for once. We've been through a lot. And I'll feel better knowing you're here at home with our son, instead of hiring some strange person to take care of him for us."

"But…"

He put a finger to her lips. "No buts. I have a lot of money saved up from what Snow went back and sold of my stuff. My new job will be enough to support us as a family. So please, just stay at home with him. Not forever, I know you wouldn't like that. I don't expect you to be a trophy wife. But for a little while. Okay?"

"Okay," she acquiesced. "Six months."

"A year," Hope argued.

"A year?"

"Besides," he said with a lopsided smile, "I know you can't get into too much trouble here."

"Maybe," she said. "You know me. I always find a way."

"Hey…it's been six weeks," Hope murmured, nuzzling her neck. "So, the doctor said…"

Lightning smiled. "Hmm?"

"I think we should go to bed," he said in a low voice.

"You sure about that?" Lightning asked. "I'm still sporting postpartum flab." And a myriad of stretch marks, as well as a new vertical scar that bisected her abdomen. Emergency C-sections did not receive the luxury of a "bikini cut", as it turned out.

He kissed her lips then, long and deep, his hands going under her shirt and up her stomach. "I made love to you before you were pregnant, while you were pregnant, and I'm going to keep doing it after, too," he murmured against her mouth.

"Remember what happens," Lighting said, looking pointedly at their son's bedroom door.

"It's okay," Hope said. "Turns out they make these nifty things that prevent those things from happening..."

Lightning got to her feet, grabbed Hope's hand, and pulled him into their bedroom.

It was sweet, as it always was.

Hope kissed down her soft belly, tracing the striations in her skin with lips and tongue, lower and lower. "I love these," he murmured, before going between her legs and leaving her too breathless to respond.

After, they lay tangled in the bedsheets and each other, Hope's head nestled in the base of Lightning's throat. She ran her finger through his hair idly, inspecting the silver strands in the moonlight.

"I think Bartholomew really is going to be a Hope Jr.," she said.

"No way. He looks just like you."

"Have you seen your son lately? Even his hair is coming in your color."

"It's lighter. I think it's gonna change to look more like yours. And anyway, he has your features."

"He has your nose."

"He has your lips."

"How about we just agree he looks a little bit like both of us."

Hope propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand. "How about I'm pretty sure you don't actually believe that."

Lightning rolled her eyes and pulled the bedcovers over her chest. "Whatever."

"Hey." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I have never been happier in my life than I am right now," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She smiled. "Me too."

He leaned down to kiss her on the lips, but froze as their son began crying in the other room. He gave her a quick peck, then bounded out of bed. "I'll grab him."

She watched him pull a pair of sweatpants over his hips. "Love you," she said.

"Love you too," he called back as he left the room.

…

Noel stood outside of Lightning's apartment, hands shoved in his pockets. He had done this every day for, oh, the last week or so. Between work and the fact that she had practically lived at the hospital since Bartholomew was born, there had simply been no time to talk other than the odd, impersonal text. But they needed to, for sure.

Exhaling, he finally knocked on the door.

He could hear someone moving inside, footsteps getting closer to the door. He aimed a winning smile at the peep hole and heard Lightning's soft laugh, and he relaxed a little. Better her than Hope. They were still on awkward terms, though not bad ones.

Lightning opened the door, folding her arms gingerly under her breasts. He couldn't help but notice that she looked great. Even in a loose black t-shirt that hung off her shoulder and shorts, she looked good.

"Hey, stranger," she said.

"Hey, yourself."

She stepped back, allowing him inside. "I would've thought you had died if I didn't see your car in the parking lot."

Noel rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. You've been busy, I've been…"

"I know," she said, her face softening. "It's been crazy."

"How's Bartholomew?" he asked. "Can I see him?"

Her lips twitched into a smile. "Of course. I just put him down for a nap, but come see." She reached out and grasped his fingers, leading him into the nursery.

The baby was asleep on his stomach, half of his tiny, pudgy fingers stuck in his mouth. His back moved up and down with his breathing. Noel smiled. "He looks great," he murmured. "The picture of health."

"Yeah," Lightning whispered. "I feel like I could never get tired of watching him. Even though he doesn't do anything terribly interesting. Sleeping and eating. He doesn't even cry that much."

Noel chuckled. "Not yet, anyway. Sounds like the life. He looks just like you."

Lightning wrinkled her nose. "You think? I think he looks more like his dad."

"Yep."

She put her hands on her hips with a sigh. "Whatever."

Noel turned to her. "So, uh…"

"We can talk in the living room."

They sat opposite of each other, her on the couch, him in an armchair. "I'm glad you came," Lightning said before he could open his mouth. "I feel like we need some…closure."

"Yeah, we do." Noel rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "For everything. Especially for the stuff that was said right before Bartholomew was born. It was wrong. I didn't mean to toy with your heart or feelings or…whatever. You know. But it was wrong. I've been beating myself up about it for weeks now - "

"Wait," Noel interrupted. "You're sorry?"

She gave him a weird look. "Of course I am."

He shook his head. "Look. You have nothing to be sorry for. The arguments we had, all the shit I did and said - I should be the sorry one. And I am. I didn't mean to try and come between you and Hope, or try to take over your life or your son's life. I just…I was really emotionally invested, and not all for the right reasons. I can't honestly say that a lot of my infatuation for you and your son, at least in the beginning, wasn't partially because of my feelings for your sister. Finding out she was dead…" he let out a shuddering breath. "It hit me hard. And knowing that you were pregnant, too, I don't know. All those old feelings came back. I felt like I had a duty to you."

"I knew all that," Lightning said.

"You did?"

"Of course I did," she said, exasperated. "I'm not an idiot. I understand all that, Noel. And I don't blame you for it. I took advantage of your feelings, though. I just…I was scared."

"I know you were, Lightning. It's okay." He smiled. "Why don't we both agree we did some fucked up shit to each other that we're sorry about?"

She smiled back. "Fair enough. I missed you, you know."

"Me too," Noel said honestly. "If it's okay, I'd…you know. Like to be in his life." He tilted his head in the direction of the nursery.

"Of course it's okay," she said. "Besides, he needs an uncle who isn't a total moron. And speaking of Snow…"

Noel sighed. "In case you were wondering, yes, I did say that shit to Snow, and yes, he did pretty much knock me out."

"Good," she said simply. "I hope it hurt."

"Like a bitch," Noel said, rubbing his jaw.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm a total dick."

Lightning laughed. "Sometimes, yes."

"I dunno, really. I was scared and worried and freaking out, and I just…lashed out, I guess."

"He never needed to know that stuff, Noel."

"I know that. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that. And I'm sorry for that, too. If I could rewind time and change how I behaved for the entirety of those twenty-four hours, I would."

"It's okay." Lightning stood up and held out her hand. "Friends?"

He took it. "Of course."

She pulled him into a hug. "Then welcome back, Uncle Noel."

He relaxed in her arms, dropping his head against her shoulder.

...

She saw Serah again, the night before her wedding.

"I'm not dead, right?" Lightning asked from where she rested her head in Serah's lap.

Serah laughed. "No," she said. "But I wish I could be there to see you off tomorrow. Since I can't…" She flicked her older sister's forehead.

"So is there some kind of heaven that you're sending me messages from?" Lightning asked. "When I die for real, am I going to be with you again?"

"Maybe," Serah said with a patient smile. "Maybe not. But that's not something you should be worrying about tonight. You're a mom now, and soon a wife. A new chapter of your life is beginning."

Lightning shrugged one shoulder. "So? A new chapter doesn't mean anything. I've had quite a few crappy chapters. They were all new, once."

"It can mean something. And does. It's whatever you make of it." She poked Lightning in the head again. "You're happy now, aren't you? You never were before."

Lightning closed her eyes. "Yeah," she said. "I guess you're right."

…

Hope had never thought that there could be a sight as beautiful than seeing his son for the first time.

Seeing Lightning on their wedding day - well, it was up there.

She wore a simple white dress, the gauzy material swirling around her bare legs like sea foam as she approached him from across the beach, arm in arm with Noel. On her hip, eight month old Bartholomew was laughing and grabbing at her hair where it curled over her shoulder, his green eyes alight. His own hair had lightened to a silvery pink, falling in wisps around his chubby face. She had managed to affix a small bow tie to his shirt, and by some miracle he hadn't yanked it off and tried to eat it.

"Little man!" Snow exclaimed from where he stood behind Hope.

Noel let go of Lightning's arm as they walked up, and Lightning handed the baby off to him. Bartholomew made a small protesting sound, ready to bawl, before realizing it was Noel who was holding him - Noel, with his abundance of hair to grab, was a terrific plaything to him.

"Don't cry," Lightning warned Hope.

"I'm not," Hope said, though his eyes were welling up.

"Don't. You'll get me started."

It was a short and sweet affair, just as they wanted it.

Hope knew, as his lips met Lightning's, that some things were forever.

End.