Final Fantasy XIII Mirrors

The area was vast, littered with white furniture, white shapes, and white.. _everything_. The entire space gave off a surreal feeling better suited for some abstract art piece put out on display, where only the shadows created by an unseen sun contrasted with the sea of white.

".. Viper's bitch."

"Half-naked heathen."

"Glad you know what you are."

".. I don't think you even know how to shut up."

That and the two women sprawled on the floor, panting and exhausted but with little to show for what they had done – let alone to each other. For the amount of effort between them, there should arguably be a very obvious sign of at least essences of each other scattered across the floor, staining the white with _who they were_ in the most intimate way possible.

After all, Vanille always did refer to the act of the two beating the living shit out of each other as a 'dysfunctional form of art in its own right.' It almost felt wrong to watch the blood splatter momentarily stain the white before fading away as if it never existed. Not to mention every scratch, every broken bone, even the seemingly permanently scarring wound from when Lightning shoved her cuticles into the very _muscle_ of the Pulsian Hunter's thigh and raked it through during their second or third bout of fisticuffs in this world – it just up and vanished.

But despite their seemingly immortal status, they still managed to eventually get tired.

"Hey, at least my voice is Maker-blessed-sexy! I can hear myself talk all day. Unlike a _certain_ harpy."

"You're tone deaf and delusional. You probably poisoned Serah just by making her listen to the irrational babble that comes out of your filthy mouth."

Near death exhaustion clearly did not stifle their battle ready conversational skills.

"At least she can _talk_ to me! I ain't the piece a'shit of a _sister_-" There was an audible spit at the seemingly blasphemous title "-who up and abandoned _her own kin!_"

"I didn't abandon her."

"I'm sorry, I think I heard bullshit. Repeat that so I can laugh at the flan scum coming out of your piper!"

"I didn't abandon her!"

And they were on their feet again, eyes locked with those of the other, all furniture miraculously out of the way of their predatory dance.

"Don't feed me that Pulse bullshit. I didn't abandon her, _you_ took her away from me!" The pink haired soldier seethed as she yelled, not seeing the surprised eyebrow raise at the accusation. The only thing in sight was one dark and tanned target and what she'd _give for her gunblade right now_. "I dove through crumbling buildings, seen the insides of the _only_ carnivorous adamantoise on the bloody face of Pulse _first hand_, and I chased the whole lot of you filthy L'Cie all through Cocoon and Pulse. Just for Serah!

All I did, all I _ever_ did was for Serah."

And for once, Lightning felt the overwhelming weight of exhaustion set in, all without throwing a single punch. She ignored the bells and whistles, every one of her battle ready instincts screaming at her as she turned her back on her most hated enemy, and sat down on one of the seemingly infinite amount of white tacky couches carelessly thrown around the endless white landscape. For once she couldn't just shoot something 'till it died and let her frustration get buried under a mountain of bullets, and there was no superior to report to when the first plan failed. There was no direction and clearly no guidance from.. anywhere about what she had to do. There _was_ mindless violence, but that didn't count for anything because if she had somehow managed to punch the smirk off the other woman's face this convoluted world would've just slapped it back on so it could go back to what it did best – irritate the soldier to her very core.

"You know.."

Like it clearly did now. Lightning looked up, not surprised that there was an identical tacky white couch placed directly parallel from her. This world, wherever they were, did its best to piss her off so by now it did little to surprise her that the bane of her very existence was casually sitting across from her. The pink haired soldier didn't bother supplying some half-assed retort for interrupting her self brooding and kept quiet, her eyes focused on the PSICOM specialty issued spaulder strapped on her left shoulder. She never quite broke it in, no matter how much chaos it endured with her. It still didn't feel right.

"You know.." Fang repeated, for effect of course, as if she were casually putting the thought together in her head. "You and your sister? You're both filthy L'Cie also."

The tone had a light lilt that obviously leaned towards 'mocking' but it was better described as curious, an inquiry so obviously hidden as a statement.

Lightning sniffed at that but didn't deny it. And with all she did, with every bolt of electricity that sprang from the veins of her soul and fueled her adrenaline, there was always a lingering feeling of disgust. For what exactly? She wasn't quite sure, maybe '_everything_' just about summed it up.

"Tch, I'm a Cocoon L'Cie. There's a difference."

It was a thinly veiled defense.

Fang saw it for what it was, but it felt like a cracked shield that kept the two women from doing the one thing that they've both refused to do since the day they first exchanged blows – understand each other.

Oh Maker help them, Fang had a feeling that they had to try if they wanted to get out of this looping hell.

The hunter wasn't quite sure if either of them were even capable of surviving the attempt.

Disclaimer: I don't own FFXIII, etc etc.

A/N: As much as I enjoyed FFXIII, there was a lot of it that I wish they could have done differently.

So for my own amusement (and embarrassment) I'm going to attempt to write a redux to the original story. I'm also testing out a new writing style while also simultaneously attempting to get myself back into the swing of writing again. So comments and critiques would be much appreciated.

A/N[2]: Also looking for a beta reader.


End file.

Final Fantasy XIII, Adventure, Mystery