NaNo2014 day 5

[shamera]

The day after Hope had been released from the hospital, and he and his father were on their way to the wildlands, a large part of which had been cleared out to support a bustling settlement with a small handful of buildings starting to shape into something with a semblance of civilization. While New Bodhum had been small and filled with buildings shaped like boxes, mostly residential, this new settlement was preparing itself to soon become a bustling city. There were roads and gleaming steel beams and military droids repurposed for building. The air was lively and filled with smaller airships and aerial machines with arms carrying different metals.

“It’s going to be better here.” Bartholomew told him, standing behind Hope with his hands on his shoulders in a supportive grasp. “A fresh start.”

For a moment Hope was reminded of the times his mom would throw her arms around him and lean her head down against his, laughing at his complaints about how he was too old for hugs like that now. She would hum and dismiss all his whining cheerfully until he stopped squirming and finally admitted defeat to her.

Don’t worry, she used to say against his hair, pulling him up close until he complained about suffocation, Things will turn out better.

And for a long aching moment, Hope missed his mother enough that he could cry.

He was lead to a small two bedroom apartment in one of the temporary housing facilities. The space was narrow and filled with boxes of his stuff from the previous location, some dusty and dirty from having been recovered from the destroyed building.

“It may take them another half year to finish the permanent housing.” His father told him as Hope sat gingerly on the unadorned cot in the room designated as his. “The architects want to make sure the land and structures will be secure. No more disasters.”

“...Okay.” Hope responded. He didn’t mind the small apartment. It was as different as could be to his old home, and right now, that was a good thing.

“They’ve got a good hospital.” Bartholomew continued to extol. “Dr. Clive sent a list of physicians who can help you here. And… it’s not a lot, but there are classrooms being set up for high school classes. They’ve got clubs and activities for the kids, too…”

“That sounds good, dad.”

His father paused, shoulders slumping slightly. “Listen, Hope. I know this may not be what you would have chosen. New Bodhum was my second choice, but… That would be a short-term plan. New Bodhum is a beautiful place…”

“But it’s hiding.” Hope completed for him, seeing his father struggle with the words. He was starting to grasp onto things again. He thought about the nurse at the hospital, about how he had been discharged immediately after. “Because everyone still fears l’Cie.”

Even if he wasn’t one anymore. Even if none of them were l’Cie anymore.

If they all stayed together in one spot, then the people of New Bodhum might get used to them, but no one else would. It would be a secluded place that others refuse to go because of their reputation. The Purge happened because of fear of l’Cie, and everything that followed as well. With it being merely months after the fall, despite the correct information circling around now, not everyone wanted to hear it. Not everyone wanted to believe that the monsters they blamed for the loss of their homes and loved ones weren’t monsters at all.

It was going to take time, Hope understood. A lot of time and patience and showing people that the ex-l’Cie were just normal, everyday people.

“It’s not that.” Bartholomew denied. “Although… yes. A part of the reason is that I want to give you a better future. I can’t just think about now, Hope. What happens in five years? Ten? This won’t blow over if we don’t face it head-on. In ten, twenty, years… I want to make sure that no one will try to hurt you. That no one will—”

“Throw me out of the hospital because I’m a threat to the other kids?”

Bartholomew sighed and rubbed at the skin between his eyes underneath his glasses. “...Too smart for your own good.”

Hope didn’t think so. If the vehemence and glaring didn’t clue someone in, then maybe they were luckier than he was. It wasn’t hard to notice when he wasn’t wanted in an area. But even so, Hope couldn’t figure a good solution to the problem.

“What do I do?” He asked, because it was one thing to understand that it would take time and effort to change the minds of people, but it was another thing entirely when he tried to think of the situation in small-scale. What were the steps necessary in order to spread the truth that the l’Cie weren’t monsters, but only whatever the fal’Cie made them out to be? Logically speaking, everyone should already know that. Realistically speaking, no one wanted to acknowledge it.

His father startled at the question, and then knelt in front of him, putting them closer to eye level from where Hope sat on the bed.

“Nothing.” His dad said simply. “You just focus on what’s in front of you, be in school or making friends or growing up. Let me take care of it. Give me a few years and I’ll change everything around. Promise.”

There was an unexpected but overwhelming surge of… gratitude? Relief? He wasn’t sure why, but suddenly Hope missed his father as well. Missed that very same intense look which delivered promises other people wouldn’t be able to carry through. Except his dad was right in front of him, so he wasn’t sure how he could miss him.

“I know things seem bad now.” The words were hushed, prompting Hope to strain to hear despite the stillness of the room. “But I will make everything okay again.”

The words were flat, almost stern, and had it only been a few years ago, Hope might have flinched away at the tone without realizing the words spoken, but now it only prompted a small but genuine smile. Rather than disapproval, it sounded like a fact. It didn’t feel like there was much to smile about in this situation, but at least his dad was still the same.

“I believe you.”

—

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so, the days passed quickly after the move. Hope found himself with a schedule quickly enough to settle into his days. He had multiple appointments throughout a day ranging from speech and physical therapy to virtual tutoring sessions from various programs his father installed after they got the computers up and running. Vanille called daily for nearly an hour at a time, usually when the two of them were busy with other things as well so she didn’t mind if he was just quiet on the line while she chatted about what she and Fang were up to.

It was nice, he thought. It made the quiet bearable knowing that she was listening and would respond if he said something. Furthermore, Lightning required a daily update from him as well, and Snow usually sent the regards of Serah, Sazh, and Dajh through the same call.

What busied him the most, strangely enough, were the amount of introductions he made through those weeks. Pulse was a wild and dangerous place, with without the help of Psicom, the Guardian Corps had settled in to protect the settlement. Rydgea was the head of that particular branch and often came by to check up on him while Bartholomew was hard at work, bringing various other soldiers with him. Hope wasn’t sure if that was because the man wanted to show the soldiers what an ex-l’Cie looked like (short and scrawny still, either too pale or with large red patches of sunburns across exposed skin), or because he genuinely thought that Hope would need to know the entire garrison someday.

When his physical therapy sessions dwindled off, his father proposed the idea of enrolling at the local academy.

“Since it’s been several months since most children have gone to any more than basic lessons, they have an assessment exam to determine your placement level. I can schedule you in for one of those next week, and then you’ll have plenty to do.”

“He said that like I don’t already have plenty to do.” Hope complained over the phone to Vanille that day. “I was just starting to get a break!”

She giggled over the line. “I’m sure he means well. But if you’re going to be tied down soon, why not come for a visit? Or maybe we can head there instead?”

He perked up at the idea, but then glanced around the tiny room he was in. The temporary apartment was alright for two people, especially since Hope hadn’t bothered to unpack most of his items, but it would be cramped with any more than that. “...I’ll ask if I can visit New Bodhum.”

“I would suggest we go swimming, but I suppose it’s officially too cold here now.” She laughed lightly. “We got our first snowfall of the year today. It’s a little bit crazy here. You Cocoon people really don’t know how to deal with the weather!”

“Snow?” Hope had to reroute the word in his brain, having acclimated himself to associating the word as a name rather than a descriptor. “You mean like — real snow?”

Had it gotten that cold already? Sure, everyone was wearing a lot more than before and complaining about the temperature, and he could see his breath in front of him whenever he went outside, but actual snow? It never snowed on Cocoon, not unless it was for special occasions. Holidays and the such, when the fal’Cie would listen to the whims of the people and generate light snowfall for select days, all to be melted away without a mess the very next day. Eden had certain parks that used to boast about their snow, becoming busy tourist attractions on certain days of the year. Nautilus used to have special attractions during the winter that would be frozen over into ice.

Hope had forgotten entirely that ice and snow were meant to be actual phenomena rather than controlled spectacles.

“You’ll have to dress warm.” She told him. “It’s colder in New Bodhum than it is down in the wildlands. Serah’s been locking people inside if they don’t wear enough, so be careful!”

“I still have to ask my dad.” Hope reminded her, but couldn’t see a reason why his father would say no. “Do you think it’ll all melt by the time I get there?”

“Not if you come soon!” She prompted. “Oh, and Lightning’s probably going to tell you this later today but Serah took one look today and declared that this is the backdrop she wants to be married in.”

“Wait, does that mean — soon? Or next year?” Because the two of them had been engaged for months but never set a date. Hope had never thought to ask about it, either, seeing as if felt like an inevitable flow that Snow and Serah would just eventually get married.

“From the way it sounded, she means soon. And the surprising thing is, Lightning’s not saying no.”

“Wow. That’s just… wow.”

“It’s all very exciting.” Vanille said. “So make sure you came soon, okay? I don’t even know if they’re going to just wake up tomorrow morning and decide that they’re going to get married that day. I never took Serah to like sudden things, but I guess a lot can change.”

A lot can change. Hope stared blankly down at his computer, feeling a flash of recognition. It felt like Vanille had cut herself off there from saying more. A lot can change… what? To a person? He shouldn’t be questioning it, not when it was such an innocuous statement, but lately little things like that — like Vanille cutting herself off from saying something, or Lightning’s insistent questions — they all felt very… odd.

“I’ll send dad a message.” Hope promised. He looked up, feeling lost all of a sudden. He wondered why. “I’ll call you again first thing.”

“Okay.” Vanille responded brightly. “I’ll tell Lightning, then!”

He hung up after their usual goodbyes, feeling quite odd. Hope rubbed at the back of his head, where there was a patch of hair still shorter than the rest and a bump of scar tissue slowly fading away. It was an odd sensation, reminding him of when he actually browsed through the medical files on his dad’s computer. Most of the words felt like medical jargon to him, but the notes had been quite clear.

Acute subdural hematoma. A massive bleed within his skull. According to the chances of survival, Hope was very lucky to be alive, much less without permanent damage. An injury of that scale, along with the coma, was bound to cause some… changes.

Nightmares, Hope thought faintly.

He had done his best to ignore them, as they weren’t too frequent, but there was a quality about the dreams that felt just as real than his waking hours. And it was strange. He would dream of cities he was certain didn’t exist, of towering architecture and computers constructed of ores he had never seen before designed in shapes he had never imagined.

He struggled at first to discern reality, sometimes calling his therapists by the wrong name or confusing himself about where he was and what he was doing. Things got better as time went on, and everyone assumed he was confused because of his injury anyway. Maybe he was. Maybe all his paranoia and oddness came from that.

Hope sent off a quick message asking his father if he could visit New Bodhum before his examination, and then lingered on the computer. He had searched up a few terms on whim before in the past several weeks, but none of them had yielded any results.

He clicks through sites that he’s already navigated, news on what’s happening in the world around them, rumor sites, and the official news on how Lake Bresha had been closed off to the public to dedicate as a memorial for the Purge victims. They were building a monument with the names of every person who died there on that day.

Hope hesitated, eyes scanning the article. It had taken a while, but all the names had been gathered in one place and were to be carved into a gravestone within the crystalline waves of Lake Bresha. The list on the site invited everyone to contribute in case they missed someone.

And there, amidst the hundreds of other names, was Nora Estheim.

It was a very long list, and Hope made sure to read each and every name, even if he wouldn’t be able to memorize everything. They all deserved a moment of his recognition, at the very least. There was a tightness in his chest — had he met any of them? Had he run past one of those names before, had he breezed by them and would have seen their faces if only he had taken the time to turn his head?

At the very end of the list, he stopped and stared.

Alyssa Zaidelle.

The name brought a shiver, but he shook it away. It couldn’t be. He was just imagining things, that was all. It was probably just another name he heard before from somewhere else, maybe someone else. He…

There was a list of comments under the article, mostly from people still mourning or adding names, or from those demanding more than just a memorial to honor the dead. Even as he scrolled down to avoid the so familiar name, Hope’s attention was caught by something else on the site.

Hope.
When you see this and you believe they exist.
Come find me.