Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The tale he’d sent through the Dusks had lost much in the telling, and he had to recount the events in full several times over upon his return: once for a scowling Saïx, once for an unreadable Superior, and an abbreviated version for the rest of them who cared enough to ask. Strangely enough, the strongest reaction came from Number Thirteen, who had apparently developed more of a personality in the weeks since Vexen had seen him last.

“They’re all just—gone? Even Axel?”

“Were you not listening? Yes, they’re just gone. Surely it’s not a difficult concept.”

More of a personality, perhaps, but clearly no more intelligence. Vexen made a mental note as he watched Roxas trudge out of the Grey Area, looking downcast. He could certainly see Sora in him, now that he’d met the other boy, but that only accentuated the many differences between the two, differences that by all rights shouldn’t exist. Obviously there were other, unprecedented factors at play. Not that he needed to investigate the phenomenon, but nonetheless…It might be something to keep an eye on, out of curiosity.

As if there wouldn’t be work enough to do with half their number lost.

It was hard to eat his ice cream, though Roxas didn’t know why. Something invisible seemed to be stuck in his throat. He couldn’t finish even half the bar, and let it melt off the edge of the clock tower, the salty droplets falling one by one like glittering tears.

The sunset was as beautiful as always, but he couldn’t appreciate it any more than the ice cream. He stared at the red-gold horizon without seeing it, and his looping thoughts strangled him so tightly that he did not notice, at first, when the other person sat down beside him. When he did, it did not startle him. He didn’t really care that someone had found him. He didn’t really care about anything.

Xion lowered her hood.

“Roxas…What happened?”

He stared at her, trying to decipher her small, puzzled frown, a voice in his head wondering dully how she knew something was wrong. Finally he mustered up the will to answer.

“Castle Oblivion.” Talking was difficult, he realized, with this new lump in his throat. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in days. “Axel’s gone. For good.”

“Gone?”

“He’s not coming back.” Roxas’s throat tightened even closer, so that it was difficult to speak. “Ever.”

“…Oh.”

They spent the rest of the sunset together in silence. 

Xion did not show up on the clock tower the next day, but the day after, she did, bringing ice cream for each of them. Roxas didn’t care. He had nothing to say to her, and she did not press him for talk.

Despite the weeks of sleep he’d taken during the Castle Oblivion operation, his head felt full and heavy all the time now, as if he were constantly on the verge of getting a cold. Grit had clogged the machinery of his self, rusting his thoughts, making him see the world through a milky film. The lump in his throat had grown so large that it sank into his chest, weighing him down as soon as he woke each morning and remembered that Axel was gone. He’d even dreamed about Axel last night—he knew that for sure—but couldn’t remember any details, and it frustrated him. Had Axel said something to him in the dream?

Try as he might, he couldn’t remember.

“You’re really quiet today, Roxas.” Xion existed only in his peripheral vision, her slight movements a ripple of black backlit by the sunset. “Is…something wrong?”

Roxas watched the last drops of ice cream melt on the end of his stick. He realized he didn’t recall eating it, and only the lingering taste of salt in his mouth proved he’d done so.

“I don’t know,” he heard himself say.

Xion shifted, her coat rustling.

“Is it…because of Axel? Because he disappeared?”

Roxas considered. The sky was the color of Axel’s hair.

“I guess so.” He set his ice cream stick down beside him on the edge of the clock tower. “I just…want him to come back and have ice cream again. That’s all.”

It seemed so much less important when he said it aloud. And yet it was important…wasn’t it? He had no memories, but something in him nudged him gently, telling him that just beyond his reach was a concept for—for whatever Axel had been, in their couple of weeks together. Not only a comrade; that didn’t seem to capture it, not when Xigbar and Xaldin and all of the others who never really spoke to him were his comrades in the Organization, too. Was there perhaps a special word that described it? Someone you had ice cream with?

Probably not, Roxas thought. He was just being strange.

“I wish I could have met him,” said Xion.

Roxas turned his attention to her. Xion had her hood up, but now lowered it, her features soft with hesitation.

“I don’t remember him from before he left. But, you said he was nice to you, so I…I wanted to meet him, too. Even while you were asleep…I was looking forward to the three of us…”

She did not finish the thought, and yet Roxas felt (felt? no) a spark of something that he supposed mimicked gratitude. Suddenly he was glad she was here right now, even if Axel wasn’t, even if Axel never would be ever again.

“Roxas…I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but…I wish it hadn’t happened.” Xion bit her lip. “Do you...want me to go away? So you can think about it?”

“No,” Roxas said, wondering even as he did why he’d said it. It wasn’t like Xion being here would change anything about Axel.

“So then…Can I keep coming up here after work to see you? Even though…Axel won’t come?”

Roxas nodded.

“Thank you,” Xion said quietly.

Research Entry 340

The No. i unit has acquired the ability to wield a Keyblade as intended, though I have been too busy to collect any data on it myself. From casual observation, however, Xion appears to be functioning without issue. More importantly, the Superior is satisfied with its performance.

If an opportunity comes, I must take some follow-up measurements on its progress, but my current workload prohibits it. Still—a note for the future. 

“Why did you get three?”

Roxas sat down on the edge of the clock tower, still holding two sticks of ice cream even after handing one to Xion. He set the extra one down beside him, just far enough away that it wouldn’t touch his coat as it melted.

“It’s for Axel.”

That lump in his throat again. Why did it come back stronger at unexpected times? He forced it down.

“I know he’s gone. I know he won’t ever come back. But he was the one who showed me this place, and bought me my first ice cream. So…”

So what? He knew what else he wanted to say, but now that he had to say it, it sounded stupid even in his head. It was like playing pretend. All the ice cream in the world wouldn’t bring him back.

“So…it’s a way to thank him, I guess.”

He didn’t know whether Xion really understood. But she nodded, and that was enough for him to accept her acceptance. She showed no sign of wanting to make fun of him, or call his gesture ridiculous, even though it was. She just bit into her own ice cream without comment, and the two of them watched the sunset start in earnest, the elongated shadows of trees and buildings on the horizon stretching down into the sleepy town below. A train cried forlornly in the distance, puttering into view over the crest of the hill.

Even without Axel, the sunset was warm on his face. 

A week. Two weeks. Three weeks—and sometimes now on the clock tower Roxas could laugh when Xion told him a story from her day, or even smile while telling one of his own. He always bought an extra ice cream when it was his turn to buy, but the one time he did forget, he didn’t run down and get another, even though it guilted him all evening.

Xion was a good companion, he found. Unlike everyone else, she was neither abrasive nor aloof, and it was nice to talk to someone who actually wanted to listen, and who could relate to at least some of his worries. Xion had no memories of her life before the Organization, either. In fact she couldn’t even remember her earliest days in the Organization to begin with.

“It’s all a blur,” she mused one evening, halfway through her ice cream. “The first clear memory I have is from the first day we did a mission together. And even that’s just bits and pieces.”

“Do you remember when you joined?” Roxas tried. “It was a week after me. I was really out of it, but I still remember that. Xemnas made a speech in the throne room, and you looked up at me while he was talking…”

“I did?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe you were smiling or something, but I couldn’t really tell. I was pretty out of it back then.”

“I don’t remember that at all.” Xion shook her head, then reached up with her free hand to touch her temple. “It’s so frustrating. I can’t even remember joining the Organization, much less anything from before…At least you can remember your first couple of weeks, right?”

“Yeah. But that’s not much of a head start.”

Ignorance forged a bond between them that might otherwise have come less quickly. Without memories for reference, most of what they encountered on their daily missions bewildered them both, and their evenings on the clock tower evolved into something like mutual debriefings, trying to understand the workings of the universe they had been born into so abruptly. They recounted each day’s missions to each other, places they’d seen and encounters they’d had, fights with Heartless and puzzling conversations with natives who spoke offhandedly of concepts whose meaning they had no way to intuit.

There was a surprising comfort, Roxas discovered, in having a companion who knew as little as he. Once in a while a pang struck him when he realized that Axel might have been willing to explain whatever mystery was puzzling them that evening, but he was not here and never would be again, and so he and Xion were left with only each other’s confusion and curiosity. It was like holding hands in the dark.

Sometimes Roxas plucked up the nerve to ask questions of the other members, but in between missions no one seemed to have time for him, and their answers were always unsatisfying: a cryptic jest from Xigbar, a pun from Luxord, Demyx’s long and rambling stories that explained nothing at all. Xion reported similar results. All they could rely on, then, was one another—and as Roxas grew to realize it, it made him value their conversations all the more. No matter what happened on a mission, or what anyone said to him around the castle, Xion would always be there for him on the clock tower at the end of every day.

Until one evening, she wasn’t.

Roxas waited alone on the clock tower until nearly all the stars had risen, and waited again the next evening, and the next. Xion did not come.

Day 71: Where’s Xion?

I haven’t seen Xion in days. She stopped coming up to the clock tower. I’ve been eating ice cream by myself after work.

Being alone makes me realize how much better it is when Xion is there. It’s nice having someone to talk with, like me and Axel used to do. Xion isn’t the same as Axel, but she’s still nice.

I’ve asked some of the others about Xion, but it seems like no one else has seen her lately, either. Where could she be?  

This night was not as chilly as the last few had been. Xion tucked her legs closer to her chest and nestled her chin on her knees, her hood down over her eyes, and waited for another snatch of sleep to claim her. This alleyway was clean, at least. And she was sure no passersby could see her from the main street, hidden as she was by the darkness and her cloak. She was a shadow within shadow, small and unmoving at the base of a brick wall beside a garbage bin.

She hadn’t gone back to the castle since it had happened. Most of the bruises had healed already, except one especially nasty one on her ribcage, but bruises were nothing compared to the fear she’d felt as she’d stared the large Heartless down and realized her Keyblade just wasn’t coming. It had been a routine mission, and she hadn’t felt anything out of the ordinary beforehand. There’d been only the first sharp surprise when her summons produced nothing, and then, as she dodged the Heartless’s attacks, panic in her chest like a vise being tightened as her demands for the weapon grew more desperate. But the Keyblade never appeared.

She’d have to try to fight that Heartless again soon. It was still here, and her assigned mission was to destroy it, Keyblade or no. She’d never failed a mission before, nor heard of anyone else who had, but she knew without needing to be told that falling short of the Organization’s goals was a sin beyond pardoning, and the consequences would be worse than the discomfort of sleeping alone in an alleyway. No one had warned her about it directly, but she’d caught rumors enough. At least some of the Dusks who performed menial tasks around the castle had once been higher Nobodies whose transgressions had been severe enough to make Xemnas smite them into a lower existence. The possibility terrified her. Or rather, she supposed, the possibility mimicked terror in her. She swallowed and huddled closer in on herself, her thoughts whirring in circles.

As a Nobody, she was nothing but a body and a mind. Her body had betrayed her—the Keyblade had abandoned her—and if they turned her into a Dusk…

Dusks had a little intelligence, yes, and a little memory. But none of them could speak to her of what it had been to be complete, and she herself had no recollection at all of her own past. To be demoted to a Dusk would be to lose what little she had: the memories of her recent weeks spent on missions, and all the evenings afterwards with Roxas, sunsets and sea salt and questions.

Maybe tomorrow, if she tried her hardest, the Keyblade would finally come back. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if it didn’t. 

“I fail to see how this situation is any concern of mine.”

“Do you? I’ll clarify, then. The thing has been missing for over a week now.”

“Then send the Dusks to fetch it.” Vexen kept only half an eye on Saïx, instead making a sweeping note on the diagram splayed across the lab workstation, deliberately exaggerating his already exaggerated movements to emphasize how unwanted this interruption had become. “I’ve hardly time for such a menial errand. I had thought I made that clear yesterday.”

“The Dusks have found nothing. You know how little use they are.”

Saïx’s tone stayed level, but something in it made Vexen glance up from his work at last, one eye narrowing as he scowled.

“The Superior,” Saïx continued, “doesn’t yet know his second Keyblade wielder has vanished. But it would be remiss of me to keep that information from him for much longer.”

That did the trick. Vexen flushed and sneered at the same time, a strange expression that made him look both offended and ill.

“Doesn’t he? How convenient for you.”

“Hardly. If anything, I’ve been doing you a favor.”

“A favor? Hah. You can’t expect me to believe—”

“Would you like to explain the situation to him yourself?” At last, an edge of sharpness. “Then be my guest. It would spare me having to come up with an excuse for its unauthorized disappearance.”

Vexen grit his teeth, but had no ready comeback. The silence stretched unpleasantly long before he surrendered.

“Very well, then. If you really see fit to waste my time on such an excursion…”

“I do. Your task tomorrow will be to find Xion.” Saïx’s golden eyes glittered coldly. “I suggest you do not return without it.” 

Logically, the first place to look for his wayward creation was the last world it had been sent on a mission. But Twilight Town was as quiet and contented as ever, and a few minutes’ cursory sleuthing convinced Vexen that whatever large Heartless Xion had been sent after had not run amok among the residents in the last week. Still, it would not have spawned in the middle of nowhere, either; the creatures were attracted to people. A process of elimination led him to the wooded outskirts of town, and there his search ended much sooner than he’d dared hope. The sounds of a struggle drew him closer as he approached the abandoned mansion on the other side of the woods. He stopped just shy of the treeline, observing.

It was indeed the missing Replica, battling a large, lizard-like Heartless. The Replica seemed tired. Despite the close range of combat, it was moving only in short bursts that were sometimes not quick enough to dodge the Heartless’s lashing tongue, and a solid blow from the creature’s tail finally sent Xion tumbling with a cry, the force of the blow making its small body plow a swathe of dirt up from the grass.

Strangely, the Replica had not summoned its Keyblade. Instead it pulled itself to all fours, and launched a weak fireball that nevertheless caught the large Heartless in the mouth, making it squeal and thrash, buying the Replica time to stagger up and scramble away—and then fall to its knees, catching itself with one elbow in the dirt, exhausted. Vexen scowled.

Really, was this all the thing was capable of after…how long had it been since the data implant? Two months? No, a little more. Ten weeks, and it couldn’t even take down a midsize Heartless on its own. Disappointing in the extreme.

Xion took another hit from the Veil Lizard that knocked its small body flying. Vexen was suddenly grateful that not even the Dusks had come to witness this incompetent display, and when the Replica did not struggle after being hit again, he at last hurried forward, his cloak sweeping. Chunks of ice rose from the earth to engulf the Heartless’s legs and tail, and thus immobilized, its power of invisibility became useless. Only a few strong bursts of magic were needed to destroy the creature completely soon after; Xion had weakened it somewhat, at least.

The vanquished Heartless left nothing behind but claw gouges in the earth, no trace remaining of its frozen body after it faded to ribbons of darkness. Xion lay facedown on the grass, unmoving, its limbs weirdly splayed.

“Was that really the best you could do? How dreadful.”

It gave him no reply, unconscious. Vexen bent and flipped the small body over with one hand, scanning it for damage. In so doing, Xion’s hood fell down from around its head, and the sight beneath arrested Vexen instantly.

No. i had a face.

The blank, expressionless template had finally morphed—but not into Roxas, or even into Sora. It was Naminé’s face, or more technically the girl Kairi’s, though the hair was jet black. Vexen stared at it, then caught the Replica’s small chin and moved its head this way and that, observing the odd metamorphosis from several angles, as if expecting it to alter like a hologram. It didn’t.

Brow furrowed, but with an unsettling smile beginning to form, Vexen tilted its face to the side, studying the Replica’s delicate features.

“Curious.” He pulled one of the Replica’s eyelids back, revealing not the lifeless gray of the original template, but irises of a bright and somewhat familiar blue. His cold smile widened. “My, how very curious…” 

Roxas left the clock tower much earlier than usual. Without Xion, the routine didn’t satisfy him. The sunset and the ice cream were all unchanged, and yet somehow he’d found he didn’t want to stay there for hours by himself. Instead he returned to the castle empty-handed, and wondered whether it would be worthwhile to find Xion’s room and see if she were there. Then he realized that, as it was early, she might still be out on a mission. Saïx would know.

He expected the Grey Area to be deserted at this hour, but tried it anyway for lack of a better place to start. A pair of arguing voices reached him before he even peered inside.

“I take it it’s broken?” Saïx was asking.

“Hardly,” Vexen sniffed. “A minor technical difficulty, no more. Number Fourteen will be fully operational for tomorrow’s assignments.”

“Very reassuring,” said Saïx, in a tone so flat that the lie carried no weight. He regarded the limp bundle in Vexen’s arms. Xion’s unsupported head hung back so far that the hood of her coat had slipped off, and her eyes and mouth were half-open. She did not move. “I assume you need to do some repairs.”

“Obviously.” Vexen dumped the unconscious Xion into a horde of waiting Dusks, which scurried away. “Fortunately the problem doesn’t seem complex. A few minor adjustments should be sufficient to return it to full function.”

“Then I can expect it to report for duty tomorrow? I have to finalize the mission schedule. If it’s still broken in the morning—”

“Xion!”

Both Saïx and Vexen turned as Roxas ran up.

“Was that—Xion? What happened to her? Is she hurt?”

“It’s of no consequence to you, boy,” said Vexen.

“Yes, it is! What’s wrong with her?”

“Number Fourteen,” Saïx said sharply, making a note on the schedule pinned to his clipboard, “is temporarily out of commission, which is no concern of yours. Focus on your own performance.”

Roxas’s protests fell on deaf ears.

The obvious damage was so superficial that Vexen knew the real problem, whatever it was, had to be deeper. After patching up the Replica’s injuries, he probed further, and scribbled two and a half pages of notes on what he found before deciding that risking permanent damage to the unit wasn’t worth trying to pursue the problem’s cause to the source. His solution was therefore incomplete, but (he calculated) would suffice. The whole process took less than an hour, and as Xion was still unconscious at the end of it, it gave him the freedom to be leisurely as he weighed and measured and notated, assessing the Replica’s altered physical features.

He had occasionally overheard others referring to Xion as female, and had wondered at the reason. Evidently Roxas, at least, had seen this new face some time ago. But when had it obtained this unusual appearance? Certainly Vexen himself hadn’t noticed it until now, though of course he hadn’t been paying any particular attention, either. As far as he could recall, in fact, it always kept its hood raised. Perhaps it might be worth the trouble of asking Roxas about it, just to ascertain…

Eventually, his insistent prodding won out over the Replica’s exhaustion, and Xion winced and groaned, stirring. Briefly Vexen considered keeping her unconscious to take a few more measurements, but she groaned again and tried to sit up, so he put the idea aside and drifted away, muttering to himself as Xion struggled and propped herself upright on the metal table, holding her head.

“Where…am I?”

The voice was distinctly female—new, and yet not dissimilar to the monotone the Replica’s first few fumbling words had been spoken in. Or perhaps that was simply a memory bias on his part? He couldn’t help but jot down another note at the thought. Did he have any audio recordings from its activation to compare the two voices with? Perhaps back at the Oblivion lab, he’d left something…

“You’re…Vexen.” Xion took in the rest of the lab, then swung her legs off the side of the table, still holding the side of her head, as if her temple throbbed. “Did you—rescue me? That Heartless…”

“I had to step in, yes. An absolutely disgraceful performance. You were on the verge of damaging yourself beyond repair.”

Xion winced. Glumly, she reached out as if to grasp a door handle, touching nothing—and then a sparkle of light glittered off of the cold metal and glass of the lab as her Keyblade appeared. She gasped as if stung.

“The Keyblade!” Disbelieving, she ran her free hand over the smooth silver shaft, gloved fingertips gliding across its perfect surface. “It…It came back…”

“Having trouble with it, were you? I deduced as much from your data.”

Vexen regarded Xion skeptically as she gawked at the weapon. Peculiar indeed to see a face on it—to see it as a her —when nothing in the data should have made it so. Her whole attention was on the Keyblade, and she changed her grip several times as if reacquainting herself with its weight, making a simple half-swing downwards and then switching it to her other hand. Only when she seemed convinced it was no illusion did she dismiss it with another flash of light.

Expecting her to leave, Vexen turned away, then straightened and looked over his shoulder with a frown when her voice came bubbling from behind him.

“What did you do?” she asked eagerly. “The Keyblade—it stopped coming to me. I tried and tried, but all of a sudden, it just…”

Vexen waved the question aside.

“The technical specifications would be entirely beyond your grasp. Frankly I’m more dismayed you lacked even the barest shred of common sense and didn’t report the issue as soon as it happened. How long had that particular error been occurring before today?”

“With the Keyblade? Um. A little while.” Xion hesitated. “I think about…ten days? It started one day out of nowhere…The Keyblade just wouldn’t come anymore. It was like I just…forgot how to summon it.”

“Hmm.” Vexen turned this over in his mind. “Rather peculiar…Though in hindsight, perhaps I should have expected it.” He waved dismissively in the direction of the exit, indicating she should use it. “No matter. I’ve performed the necessary maintenance. The issue shouldn’t occur again.”

“Maintenance?”

Harried footsteps in the hall beyond made Vexen suddenly alert, and to his consternation, the door slid open moments later, revealing Roxas. Vexen’s scowl deepened.

“And what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see Xion.” He spotted her at once, and had the audacity to step inside, hurrying carelessly past rows of fragile equipment. “Xion, are you okay? What happened to you?”

“Xion’s condition is no concern of—” Vexen began, but Roxas had already reached Xion, who remained sitting with her legs hanging off the edge of the metal table, holding the side of her head. Her bright expression matched his.

“Xion, where have you been? I’ve been really worried!”

“I’m sorry, Roxas. I wanted to tell you…”

“Excuse me?”

They both looked over at him, startled.

“Off with you both,” Vexen snapped. “I have other things to do this evening beyond making up for your incompetence, Number Fourteen. And as for you, Roxas, I would think you’d have learned better than to simply barge—”

It took through the end of that sentence and well into the next before Vexen realized, to his consternation, that they were ignoring him. Instead Roxas and Xion were talking eagerly. Vexen ground his teeth.

“No,” Xion was saying, “I stayed away because…I stopped being able to use the Keyblade all of a sudden.”

“Whoa. Really?”

She nodded. “I was scared to RTC because I thought if I couldn’t collect hearts anymore, then the Organization wouldn’t have any use for me. So they might have…”

“Done what?” Vexen snapped. “Eliminated you? Hmph.” Annoyed as he was, he couldn’t help but consider the point. “A surprisingly astute deduction. Though if mere uselessness were the only criteria for elimination, we’d be well rid of Demyx by now. As it is, you should have come to me for repairs the moment you discovered the problem.”

“I didn’t know…” She struggled for the rest of her thought, Roxas now looking between her and Vexen. “I mean—I didn’t know that you could…do something like that, for me.”

“Well, I hardly thought I had to spell it out. Surely such a thing was obvious?” Vexen stacked a few papers in some order that seemed to please him, then pushed them aside. “In any case, don’t be so foolish in the future. I don’t want to have to bother with fixing you if I can help it.”

Roxas had been following the conversation back and forth with his attention, as if watching a tennis match; now he interjected.

“I don’t get it. Why did Xion stop being able to use the Keyblade? And how come you could fix it?”

“You aren’t cleared to know such things at present, boy. Though, given the circumstances…” He sized up Xion, one eye narrowing. “I must say, your overwhelming lack of judgment concerns me. How much about yourself have you already told Roxas? I cautioned you against revealing any specifics.”

“I don’t…” Xion fidgeted. “Told Roxas what about myself? You mean about when I was human? I don’t even remember any of that to begin with…”

Vexen opened his mouth as if to speak, but something seemed to dawn on him, and he closed it again, reaching up to stroke his chin as he regarded the pair with an increasingly bemused expression, one eye narrowing much further than the other. At last he made a disgruntled noise and dropped his hand, the mystery sufficiently solved in his mind.

“You’ve completely forgotten. Of course. Of course.” Another disgruntled noise. “You really don’t recall the first thing about yourself, do you? Tch. How utterly farcical…Though in hindsight, it explains a great deal. Such as why you were so senseless as to run off at the first sign of malfunction.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Roxas.

Vexen paced a few feet back and forth, already carried away with his own thoughts.

“Perhaps I should have anticipated it, given the circumstances, but nevertheless…” His pacing halted, and he glared at Xion, as if weighing his options. “Well. Strictly speaking, it isn’t proper for Roxas to know…but at this stage, there’s practically no use in not explaining…”

“What’s going on with Xion? Why can’t I know about it?”

Vexen regarded them both with the same sort of annoyed skepticism otherwise reserved for displeasing experiment results. In a better mood he might have been amused at the observation that the pair of them were both holding their breath, their eyes and expressions identical even if their faces weren’t.

“You are forbidden from making this generally known, Xion,” Vexen said at last, “but you were never human. In fact you aren’t even a Nobody, at least not in the traditional sense. You are a Replica—my creation. You were supposed to know as much, but apparently you’ve retained no memories of your earliest experiences.” To Roxas, he added, “As for you, boy, keep yourself quiet on the subject. The validity of this experiment rests on Xion being treated as a nominal member. The Superior will reveal Xion’s nature to the whole Organization in due course, but it would be better for you to feign ignorance until then.” In a lower voice, he added, apparently to himself, “Though why the project has to be kept quiet even at this late stage is not at all clear. I spent entirely too long on it for it to be relegated to some sort of ludicrous secret…”

Roxas and Xion exchanged looks.

“But—” Xion hesitated, “—what’s a Replica, though?”

Vexen unfolded his crossed arms and sighed, as if they were hopelessly dull for somehow not knowing this. Then he started to explain.

Chapter Text

Research Entry 377

The Replica Program is an obvious success. However, copying the Keyblade wielder has yielded unintended side effects.

The No. i unit “Xion” has developed a persona of its own. It has taken the appearance of the Princess of Heart who is so dear to the boy Sora—the same appearance that Naminé possessed. Truly intriguing…Could Sora somehow be responsible for the transformation of his Nobody’s Replica?

No matter the cause, Xion’s development has fascinating scientific implications. I must monitor ‘her’ more closely from now on.

“And what is this for, precisely?”

Vexen studied the stick of ice cream skeptically, turning it over as if inspecting it for flaws.

“It’s for yesterday,” Xion said. “Um, that is, if you want it. I don’t know if you like ice cream…”

“I find it unobjectionable.” Vexen frowned at it, holding it up to the light, as if expecting to see something unpleasant fossilized in its center. “Though I fail to see the connection.”

“Well, it’s because…” She hesitated. “I mean…you didn’t have to help me.”

“What sort of asinine logic is that? I most certainly did. You’re my handiwork, after all. Your functionality—or lack thereof—is my responsibility, and I’ll be the one to suffer if you fail to perform as expected.”

“Oh.” Xion considered this. “So then, if I stop being able to use the Keyblade again…Both of us would get punished?”

Surprise flashed across Vexen’s long face, and he regarded the ice cream with a renewed grimace.

“That is…not an unreasonable assumption.” He frowned harder, then jabbed the ice cream at Xion like a teacher brandishing a piece of chalk. “Which is why you must put every ounce of effort into your missions.”

“I do.”

“Well, continue. And if you experience any more technical problems, come to me at once instead of gallivanting off like some sort of delinquent. Better that I sort it out before Saïx gets wind of anything. He’s always been doubtful of the Program’s potential and I refuse to feed his suspicions.”

“What Program?”

“What pr—The Replica Program, you nitwit. Were you not listening yesterday?” Before she could answer, he continued, “I completed two units initially—you and another. I had thought I specified that. But the Superior ultimately selected you to have Roxas’s powers, and so I experimented with the other unit on my own in Castle Oblivion. Unfortunately he got himself destroyed, and the darkness claimed him before I could salvage him for parts. A pity.”

“There was another person…I mean, another Replica…like me?”

“Briefly, yes. Though as our inventory now consists entirely of you, I suggest you exercise proper caution in your missions going forward. Particularly when tackling large Heartless like the one from your last assignment. Keyblade or no, yesterday’s display was abysmal.”

The ice cream was beginning to melt. Vexen only noticed when a droplet of sticky liquid ran down the side of his glove, and glowered at it before chilling the ice cream again with a thought.

“Now, if you’re quite out of questions?”

“No…It’s okay.” Xion had to crane her neck to try and look him in the eye. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me. I won’t bother you any more. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Um, well…I know you’re really busy, but…Can I ask you questions later, too?”

“How do you mean?”

His clipped tone made her wince, but she pressed on.

“I mean, even if I’m not having any problems with the Keyblade. If I have questions about other things…Stuff that happens on missions…” She looked up at him. “I haven’t existed very long. I don’t know as much as I wish I did. Me and Roxas are always trying to figure things out, but it would be nice if…there was someone to ask…”

Vexen’s annoyed look did not lessen, but he did not snap at her immediately, either. Apparently the potential inconvenience was roughly equal to the ego boost inherent in the request.

“I suppose that’s not unreasonable,” he said grudgingly. “I’ve let you develop freely thus far, but in matters of basic competence, I’d rather you address any questions to me than look ignorant in front of the others.”

“They don’t know you made me, though. Right?”

“Not at the moment, but they will eventually. Once you’ve proven yourself capable, the full details of the Program will be made generally known…or so I’ve been assured.” He glared at her, as if the Program’s secrecy were her fault. “Therefore, any intellectual defects you demonstrate reflect poorly upon me. So, if you can’t deduce something on your own, then yes—bring the question to me before making a fool of yourself.”

Xion brightened.

“Okay, I will. I know you’re really busy, but…Thank you!”

Vexen did not have a reply to this bizarre sentiment, and once Xion had scurried out of the lab, he was left contemplating the unexpected turn this particular experiment had taken. No. i had been a better template than the one he’d used for Riku; even before being given any data, it had been docile and easy to manage. Now the thing had some sort of—personality? Certainly it wasn’t behaving like he’d calculated it should. The Riku Replica had been more independent than planned, too, but not in a way that pushed the boundaries of the underlying theory that had created it. This one, however…

Vexen made a thoughtful noise to himself and took his first bite of the ice cream Xion had brought. Sea salt. Not his favorite flavor, but acceptable nonetheless.

Day 75: A Replica

I’m not a normal Nobody. I’m a Replica made by Vexen. That’s why I couldn’t remember anything about my past—I don’t have a past to remember.

Vexen said he made me so I could use the Keyblade like Roxas. I’m glad he told me, even though it seems strange. It would have bothered me if I never knew what I was.

Roxas doesn’t remember his human life at all, even though he’s a regular Nobody. I guess that means we’re still more alike than different. The Organization is the beginning for both of us.

It had been raining off and on in Twilight Town for several days, and so this evening’s sunset came to them through a gauze of tattered indigo clouds rimmed with liquid gold. The stone edge of the clock tower was damp, but not enough to bother Roxas and Xion through their coats. The occasional stray raindrop made them glance up, but by the end of their ice cream the threat seemed to have passed, and they chatted with lowered hoods, unafraid of a potential drizzle. They had plenty to talk about tonight, even without the sunset.

“It’s sorta…weird,” was Roxas’s final verdict.

Xion nodded in agreement, but Roxas noticed that her thoughtful, distant gaze had no concern in it. In fact she smiled to herself, softly, and this piqued his interest. He scooted closer, which had the added benefit of changing his viewing angle just enough to reduce the glare from the sunset, now coming through strong from beneath a shred of cloud.

“Hey. What are you smiling about all of a sudden?”

“Oh.” Xion looked oddly guilty. “I don’t know. I guess…” She studied her ice cream stick. “I’m just glad I found out yesterday. About being a Replica.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, turning the thought over as she put the empty stick to the side. “It’s strange, but…now I don’t have to worry anymore. I used to worry a lot about why I couldn’t remember being human…Like maybe there was something wrong with me. And I wondered about my past, too. If I had some other world I belonged in…Or just people I belonged with, before.”

Roxas knew this well; they had discussed such possibilities many times. Now Xion looked over at him, smiling with one side of her mouth.

“But now I know for sure: there’s nothing wrong with me for not remembering. I don’t have anything to remember, that’s all. And I know…”

She hesitated.

“I mean, I do have somewhere I belong. Right here, in the Organization, with you. This is where I’m truly meant to be.”

For the first time, looking at Xion’s profile, Roxas felt a pang of dissonance. They had spent hours up on this clock tower wondering about so many things: themselves, and hearts, and humanity. And now, like magic, Xion had been given the answer to all of her questions. It was not an answer that either of them could have guessed at beforehand, but it was there, true and real and hers. She would never again have to worry about the great gaping hole where her past ought to be. But Roxas still did. He was a Nobody whose past had abandoned him, and there were no answers waiting to fall into his lap. There was no one who could give a lecture and take away all of his confusion in one sitting, like Vexen had done for Xion.

“Must be nice,” Roxas said. “Knowing where you came from, and who you are, and everything.”

Xion nodded, but whatever she had been going to say stuck in her throat when she saw how gloomy Roxas looked.

“Roxas…This doesn’t change anything. You know that, don’t you? You’re still my friend.”

“You’re a Replica of me,” Roxas pointed out. “Maybe that means we have to be friends.”

“I don’t think it works like that. I think it just means I can do the same things you do. Like use the Keyblade.”

“I guess. But it’s just…” He sighed. “You’re lucky, that’s all. You found out who you are. And now if you have any questions, you can just go ask Vexen. I still don’t have any answers. Or anyone to get answers from in the first place.”

He hadn’t bought an extra ice cream for Axel today, he realized. When was the last time he had?

“We’ll both ask him,” Xion said firmly. “Anything he told me, I would tell you anyway, so we can go ask questions together.”

“He doesn’t know anything about me, though.”

“He might. It seems like he knows a lot.”

“Maybe.” Roxas didn’t sound hopeful. He watched the sunset, then sighed again, his shoulders slumping. “Maybe I’m some sort of Replica, too. Maybe that’s why I don’t have any memories.”

Even as he said it, the thought of recent strangeness tapped at the corner of his mind. Twice this week he’d gone to Agrabah, a sun-bleached walled city standing like an island in a sea of sand, and on both missions there had been a moment of—of what, exactly? Deja vu? But it was less a feeling and more like static in his mind, an image overlaid atop his consciousness that he couldn’t quite decipher, except that the person there was someone other than himself.

“I don’t think you’re a Replica,” Xion said. “Vexen would have said so. I think you’re just…special. That’s why he made me.”

“Because I’m so special that the Organization didn’t want there to be just one of me?”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

Maybe that really was it, Roxas thought glumly. Or, given his recent visions, maybe ‘special’ just meant ‘crazy.’

He looked up when Xion found his wrist, squeezing it.

She woke earlier than usual, and try as she might to contain it, the dream slipped like water through the sieve of her mind, until all that remained was the gentle, distant sound of waves. She’d woken with this memory before, always uneasily; now it did not frighten her. It meant something, yes, but perhaps not something bad.

Every other morning that Xion had woken too early, she’d lay here sleepily, thinking little, feeling less, wondering what mission she might be assigned. Today she pulled herself upright when the thought hit her, and as it did she wondered how she could have forgotten something so important, even briefly, even in sleep.

I’m a Replica.

She let the knowledge sit there in her mind, savoring it, not even realizing how it turned the harsh light and sharp angles of her familiar room into something soft and comforting. Knowing changed everything, somehow. She couldn’t explain it, because her daily routine hadn’t altered at all, and yet knowing who and why she was had given dimension to a place inside her that had once been frighteningly empty. It was like there was a door inside her that had been unlocked, with halls and rooms beyond that she now had permission to explore. Her existence was no longer a meaningless mystery. There was a reason she was here. There was a reason she’d been born.

Of course, she didn’t know everything she wanted to. Even now there were half-formed questions bubbling in the back of her mind that she would want the answers to when they crystallized. But that wasn’t enough to worry her anymore. Those questions had lost their controlling power now that she had someone to ask them of.

That was perhaps the strangest fact to grapple with. The answer to where she came from had been deceptively close at hand all along, and Xion decided that today, after work, she would go see Vexen.

(After work, or after ice cream? No, after ice cream. Of course she couldn’t keep Roxas waiting.)

But she would go see him, and ask some of the questions she’d thought of already. There was always the danger that he might not answer, or that the answer wouldn’t please her, but both of those possibilities were preferable, infinitely preferable, to having no chance at answers at all. He might not answer, but she could ask. She could ask anything she wanted to know.

“Are you going to make more Replicas?”

This latest question made Vexen stop what he was doing to actually consider the answer.

“It’s possible,” he admitted, and resumed shuffling papers, though less quickly. “I haven’t been instructed to yet, but I might at some point. It depends entirely on the Superior’s orders.” He grimaced and added, “Not as if that would be an easy proposition, mind you. None of them seem to appreciate the vast amount of work it took to get even two units fully operational…”

He trailed off into a muttered diatribe too low for Xion to catch more than scattered fragments of: ‘not a factory’, ‘extremely delicate’, ‘rate of malfunction.’ She watched him grumble to himself as he stacked the papers in some mysterious arrangement that was nevertheless to his liking, setting a chunk of them aside.

“Are you quite through asking questions?” he asked suddenly, squinting at her with one eye in that peculiar manner of his. “Because I’ll have you know that I’m far too busy to entertain idle talk. I said you could consult me, but it wasn’t an invitation to bother me incessantly when I’m in the middle of something important.”

What he was doing didn’t look very important, but Xion knew better than to say so. Instead she turned her next thought over for a long while before actually speaking it aloud.

“I understand. I don’t want to distract you. But, you know…Roxas and I eat ice cream together every day, after work. In Twilight Town.” She hesitated. “Do…you want to come with us, maybe? Tomorrow?”

“Are you daft? Certainly not.”

She looked crestfallen. Vexen scoffed and turned away, adding the papers he’d been organizing to a dangerously teetering stack at the corner of the desk.

“Okay. I just thought…”

“Thought what?”

“Well…” She chose her words carefully, watching Vexen move around the desk sorting lab sheets, like a fastidious bird arranging its nesting materials. “Roxas and I do missions every day, so we always get to go somewhere outside the castle. But you don’t. You’re always stuck in here, so I thought…when you’re done with your work, maybe you’d want…”

Vexen straightened indignantly, as if he’d been poked with a sharp stick.

“I’m not stuck anywhere, thank you very much. And even if I were so inclined—which, let it be clear, I am not—surely you’re not dense enough not to realize how busy I am? I’ve hardly time to keep pace with my experiments, let alone go all the way offworld for something as prosaic as ice cream. The stuff is pleasant, I’ll grant, but hardly worth the trouble.”

“Well, then…Maybe I could bring you some?”

“Pardon?”

“I could bring you some ice cream after we RTC. Since you’re so busy.”

Vexen did not answer right away. He seemed to be struggling, his brilliant mind contorting itself in an effort to deduce what could possibly be the downside to free ice cream.

“I suppose that’s an option, yes,” he said at last, cautiously. “But don’t dare be obtrusive about it. If I’m occupied, don’t interrupt my work. Is that clear?”

So Xion began dropping off an extra ice cream for Vexen after she and Roxas had watched the sunset in Twilight Town. (She admitted to Roxas that this was partly inspired by his off-and-on ritual of buying ice cream for Axel, and partly a tactical maneuver, in that Vexen would be more inclined to let her ask questions if he had some kind of payment in return.) It worked better than she had expected. Even in Vexen’s worst moods, it was hard to refuse free ice cream, and gradually he grew accustomed to the small habit of pausing his work for just long enough to accept the gift, calculating margins of error in a logbook with one hand and chomping into the salty sweetness with the other.

Once this petty bribery became routine, Xion and Roxas occasionally turned the ice cream delivery into a proper visit, stopping by for as long as half an hour on their way between unwinding on the clock tower and heading off to sleep. If they had ever actually asked permission for these intrusions, Vexen would have driven them off, griping about the distraction they caused. But they never asked, and so he never bothered, until after a while he would have thought it strange if neither of them at least stuck their head in the door in the evening. He tolerated their brief presence in the lab as long as they didn’t interfere with his work, which usually meant they sat well out of reach of anything breakable, prodding him with questions.

A less arrogant person than Vexen would have found this more of a nuisance, but having a captive audience turned out to be too attractive a prospect to ignore, and gradually he adjusted his schedule so that the time they arrived in the evening was reserved for his least demanding tasks, like compiling reports. This let him lecture them more easily, and also ensured he didn’t have to do anything delicate while he was eating his ice cream.

“So what do you do in here, exactly?” Roxas asked.

“Nothing that either of you could begin to comprehend.” Vexen’s long hair fell in his face as he scribbled untidily in the margins of a logbook with his free hand. The ice cream in his other hand was in no danger of dripping onto his notes, as he refroze it anytime it threatened to do so.

“But you don’t go do missions like everyone else? You don’t ever fight any Heartless?”

“Almost never, no. Combat hardly makes the best use of my considerable talents.”

“So you’re not any good at fighting…”

“That is not what I said,” Vexen snapped. “I’m occasionally sent for reconnaissance—usually when we discover a world new to us. But missions are typically a waste of my valuable time.”

“Must be nice to not have any missions. That’s all me and Xion do.”

Vexen huffed and flipped to the next page in his logbook, taking a bite of ice cream and speaking around it, his voice muffled.

“‘Nice’ indeed. I’ll have you know I do an enormous amount of technical research for the Organization. I’m not holed up in here solely for my own amusement, as you two seem to think.”

The consistency of information that they could get out of him varied somewhat. In his more expansive moods he prattled endlessly, oblivious to whether his audience was even listening, while at other times pressing him for explanations only shortened his temper. But he almost never refused their questions outright, and the conclusion they reached was that despite his irascibility, Vexen very much liked to lecture, and to have an audience for his lecturing—which suited Roxas and Xion perfectly well. With only a few months of life between them, they were in no danger of running out of questions anytime soon.

“How long have you been in the Organization?” Xion asked one evening.

“How long? Since its inception. Which at this point would make it…Hm.” It surprised him that he actually had to think through the answer. “A full decade now. Perhaps closer to eleven years.”

“Years...Wow.”

“How many days is that?” Roxas asked.

“Too many,” Vexen grumbled. “And what have I told you two about asking questions you can deduce the answer to for yourself? You know the number of days in a standard year. It’s excruciatingly simple arithmetic.”

Roxas looked ready to argue, but Xion had already grabbed a piece of scrap paper from across the table and started scribbling figures. Roxas stifled a frustrated noise and directed his attention to her efforts instead. Vexen, as always, kept talking.

“The distressing thing,” he was saying, mostly to himself, “is that the pair of you approach life in an entirely backwards manner. You may not have my extraordinary intellect, of course, but your senses and minds function well enough to be getting on with. You’re equipped to learn from your environments and employ deductive reasoning, and yet half the time, you don’t even attempt it.”

“We’re not stupid,” said Roxas. Vexen spared him a disdainful look, then took a bite of ice cream.

“Well, you’ll have to prove it. I’ve seen nothing especially convincing in that regard.”

Xion elbowed Roxas before he could retort, and the scribbles she showed him captured his interest. He ran a finger down the columns, doing the math in his head, making sure she was right. She was.

“Four thousand days,” Roxas announced. “Man. No wonder you stopped counting.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s been that long since you joined the Organization,” said Xion. She held up her sheet of calculations as evidence, like a judge displaying a scorecard.

“Eleven years is four thousand and fifteen days,” Roxas said. “And ten years is three thousand, six hundred and fifty days. So that’s about how long you’ve been around.”

Despite himself, Vexen looked amused.

“Well…you’re not wrong. Hmph.” He took another bite of ice cream. “Well, perhaps there’s some hope for you two after all.”

Xemnas summoned them all to see it, though of course they’d all taken notice of the bright moon that had appeared in the sky above the World That Never Was while they slept. Their silence in the face of Xemnas’s long, prepared speech had sense enough to be respectful, individual opinions aside, but Roxas saw Xigbar snicker at him when he yawned. Afterwards Roxas and Xion stood side-by-side against the window with palms pressed to it, smudging the glass with the tips of their noses.

“It’s beautiful,” Xion said. Its soft blue light reflected in her eyes.

“I guess.” Roxas was more skeptical, and frowned at the moon with something like wariness. “But I don’t really get what it does.”

“Me neither,” Xion admitted. “But…Whatever it is, it’s amazing. Look how bright it is.” She tugged Roxas’s sleeve. “And we made it, Roxas. You and me, with all those hearts we’ve been collecting.”

“Yeah. We did, didn’t we?” Roxas relaxed a little, seeing the strange celestial object in this new light. “That’s something, I guess. I just wish I understood what it was for.”

In prior weeks, a question this big would have become clock tower conversation fodder, giving them something to talk about in circles for days. Now they batted the question between them for only a few minutes before subsiding into a silence that was contemplative instead of bewildered, bathing in the light of the hearts they had gathered. When it came to mysteries this vast, they no longer had to rely solely on their own guesswork. In fact they only had to wait until that evening.

“You used to be a real person, right?”

“Obviously. Why?”

“Well…What’s it like to have a heart?”

Vexen grimaced and tugged at the goggles atop his head. His lack of not only an immediate answer, but of a condescending noise in the interim, piqued Xion’s interest.

“What was it like? You remember, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. But I hardly think the experience is something that can be described if you have no frame of reference.”

“Can you at least try?” Roxas pressed.

Vexen harrumphed, tugging at his goggles again with one hand and shuffling through papers with the other. A few seconds of uncharacteristic silence convinced Roxas and Xion that no response was forthcoming. They exchanged surprised looks. Xion piped up first.

“Actually, speaking of hearts…While Xemnas was talking earlier, I kept wondering…When we do complete Kingdom Hearts, will I get a heart too? Even though I’m not a regular Nobody?”

Vexen glanced to her, apparently glad of the change of subject.

“No, I expect you wouldn’t. But there’s no need for it in any case. You already have one of your own.”

“Really?”

“Of a sort, yes.”

“Wait—Xion has a heart?” Roxas blurted.

Vexen looked up from his work again, one eye narrowing as he assessed their astonishment.

“Of a sort, as I said. Gifted as I am, not even I would venture to call what Xion possesses a true heart. Certainly I did my best, but nevertheless—”

“So I’m not a Nobody?”

“It’s a matter of opinion. I consider you one, if only in a scientific sense. I had thought I made that clear.”

“But then why do I have a heart?”

“Because I had no choice but to try and give you some semblance of one.” Irritated, Vexen adjusted his goggles again and turned away, continuing to titrate out droplets of clear liquid as he spoke to the pair sitting out of sight behind him. “Obviously in theory you would have been perfectly functional as merely a bodily vessel for data…but in practice, those sort of templates never produced any units that stayed viable long enough to begin working with in earnest. I went through a great number of failed specimens before concluding that some sort of heart had to be in place for the soul to germinate into self-sustaining life. A costly mistake, but an informative one as well. Several of my other theories are now much improved.”

Xion touched her sternum uncertainly, Roxas watching.

“It’s fake, though, isn’t it?” she asked. The hand on her chest closed into a fist. “I mean…I’m just a Replica.”

“Of course.” Vexen flipped to the next page in his logbook with his free hand, making notes in the margins about whatever it was he had just done. “As I said, it was a construction issue. The soul animates the flesh, but a heart is the real proof of existence. All life has one. Worlds themselves have one. It is the most fundamental prerequisite for existence—the only one that applies to all life in all observed worlds across the universe, and applies even to the worlds themselves.”

“So that’s why we don’t exist.” Roxas spoke slowly, working through the basic logic of this. “I mean, we’re standing here talking…but we don’t really exist like everything else, because everything else has a heart. We break the rules.”

“Quite so.” Vexen finished his notations and closed the logbook, turning to look at them again as he set the test tube he’d been using back into a rack. “Though it’s taken you entirely too long to grasp that notion.”

Roxas pulled a face, but Xion ignored the jab and and said, “You never told us what a heart is, really.”

“What it is is a hassle, more often than not. The things cause their owners no end of trouble.”

“Then why are we trying to get them?” Roxas demanded. “I mean…If having a heart is a problem, then why are Xion and me collecting them? Isn’t the point of making Kingdom Hearts so all of us can get hearts too? But if all they do is cause trouble, then aren’t we better off now, without them? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m impressed. Apparently you managed to sleep through the Superior’s entire speech this morning.”

“I wasn’t asleep!” Roxas insisted. “I just didn’t get it, that’s all. All that stuff about ‘Kingdom Hearts’ and how it’ll make us better somehow…He talked for half an hour, but he didn’t say anything.”

Vexen snorted.

“Mm…Well. He does like the sound of his own voice.”

“Almost as much as you…” Roxas muttered. Xion elbowed him.

“What was that?”

Vexen shot them a look as Xion fought a fit of giggles. Roxas rubbed his side, trying not to smile.

“I’ll concede,” Vexen said, as their mirth subsided, “that the Superior tends to be somewhat…obfuscating, particularly when he’s standing on ceremony. But his message this morning was fundamentally correct as far as the science goes. Or rather, as far as the science is understood. There’s still enough questions on the subject to keep me occupied for a lifetime.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” said Roxas. “What’s so great about having a heart? I’ve never had one. Or...I guess I have, but I don’t remember. But you do. So how is it different from how we are now?”

“Is it really going to be worth all this work?” Xion added.

Vexen considered them both.

“A heart,” he said at last, “is both a blessing and a burden. The Superior’s goal—our goal as an Organization—is not simply to regain hearts and return to our former selves. That would be a step backwards, in some ways. No, our goal in constructing Kingdom Hearts is to transcend both our current state as Nobodies and our prior existence as people. To grant ourselves all the heart’s unique strengths and none of its foolish weaknesses. In a word: to become more than human, instead of less.”

“More than human…” Xion echoed, and touched her sternum again. Roxas, however, looked indignant.

“That’s it?” he demanded. “That actually makes sense. Why didn’t Xemnas just say that?”

Vexen laughed.

Day 97: Our Place

Every day, after work, the two of us have been going to our place on top of the clock tower to have ice cream. We don't talk about much, but I wouldn't miss these conversations for the world. I wonder if Xion feels the same way.

Afterwards we usually go see Vexen in his lab. He’s pretty weird, but he knows a lot. When I’m out on missions, I’m always running into new things to ask him about.

Do the other Organization members have their own routines? It's hard to picture. I know Vexen doesn’t get out much.

“And what brings you here so early, girl?”

Xion fidgeted, watching Vexen size her up dismissively before returning to his work. His direct attention was always a little unnerving—he was liable to insult on reflex alone—but she was starting to get used to it, and to brush off his perpetual condescending attitude. Everyone else in the Organization could be condescending, too, but with Vexen, it did not signal the end of the conversation. She just had to press on as if she hadn’t heard him.

“I just got my mission from Saïx,” she told him, standing on tiptoe to try and see over the tall workbench. Everything in the lab was at a height comfortable for Vexen. “I’m going to a new world today.”

“Are you? Interesting. It’s been some time since we’ve located one.” Vexen shuffled papers. “And what does that have to do with me, I wonder?”

“Well, if you aren’t too busy…I wanted some advice.”

This made Vexen stop what he was doing and regard her with something between bemusement and grudging approval.

“Advice about what? Performing reconnaissance?”

“Yeah. Roxas said you taught him how to do it. And everyone else says you’re the best at recon anyway.”

Painfully obvious as it was, the flattery worked. Vexen smirked and set down what he was working on.

“Finally, you’re beginning to show some real sense. Is this your first reconnaissance mission alone?”

“No. But it’s my first one to a new world. I’ve never had to write up a full report before.”

“Well, they’re not difficult, as long as your investigation methods are up to snuff.” He studied her. “I did teach you reconnaissance, you know. It’s a pity you don’t remember it.”

“You did? When?”

“Right after you were activated. I brought you to Twilight Town to make sure you were working correctly. Granted, you weren’t capable of much at the time, but I wanted to confirm that you were at least nominally functional before Saïx took you to the Superior. A test run, if you will.”

“Really? I don’t remember any of that at all…”

“So I gather. Possibly it’s in your subconscious somewhere, but that does neither of us any good.” He touched his chin. “You wanted advice, you said? Well, the the obvious thing to do…”

After nearly ten minutes passed without Vexen breaking the rhythm of his lecture, Xion started edging towards the door. In the past month, she’d learned that interrupting him rarely made him stop talking, and instead one had to actively attempt escape. She was halfway to the exit before he noticed she had moved. He made an irritated noise, and Xion trotted back to him, almost apologetically.

“Scurrying off already, are you? Well, I suppose you can’t be late to report in.” He regarded her with a critical eye. “Everything should be common sense at this point. The main thing is to keep your wits about you and take note of as much as you can, as efficiently as you can. And don’t draw attention to yourself. I don’t want to hear that you’ve wound up on the front page of the locals’ paper, is that clear?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Vexen turned and settled himself at his desk with his back to her, spreading out a folder’s contents to cover the entire surface, as uninterested in her as if she’d already left. Xion hesitated, then headed away, stopping in the doorway to look back at him. He was already scribbling furiously.

“Thank you for the advice,” she said. “I’ll do my best. Um—and good luck with all your work today, too.”

“Be careful,” Vexen said absently, not looking up.

Routine wore a comfortable groove into Roxas as the days went by. No two missions were exactly alike, even if the objectives never varied much, and looking forward to talking to Xion on the clock tower was enough to get him through even the most uneventful day. Between the challenges of harvesting hearts and exploring the worlds, he found himself busier than he would have ever expected during those first few hazy days he’d wandered the castle halls in a fog.

The strange visions of the boy in red happened twice more, but never for long, and Roxas brushed them off, grateful that they went just as quickly as they came. He never considered telling Xion about them—they were too weird—but somehow it didn’t feel dishonest not to mention it when she asked about his day. It wasn’t really like keeping a secret. After all, they probably didn’t mean anything to begin with. The less he thought about it, the better.

“Where were you today?” Xion asked him, as they settled into place on the clock tower.

“That city in the desert. I’ve still got sand in my pockets.”

“Recon or Heartless?”

“A little of both. Mostly Heartless.” The first bite of ice cream stung his teeth with cold. “What about you? Anything interesting on your mission?”

“Not really. My target took forever to find, though.”

They chatted as they watched a tram leave the station, gliding on rails at a slant towards the far edge of town, heading perhaps for some other village on the seaward side of the twilit mountains. Halfway through their ice cream, the conversation lulled, and Roxas was watching a bird fly in parallel with the raised tram tracks when Xion broke the comfortable silence.

“You know, Roxas…I’m glad you’re smiling again.”

“Huh?” He looked over. “What do you mean, Xion?”

“When we first started hanging out, you didn’t smile that much.” She took another bite of her ice cream. “And then for a while, after you woke up, you never smiled at all. Sometimes I even thought, maybe you never would.”

She left Axel’s name unsaid, but the thought hit Roxas with a jolt, and he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d bought Axel an extra ice cream. He hadn’t consciously abandoned the practice, it had just sort of…dwindled away, without Roxas thinking about it. At first it had seemed like an important thing to do, but now, when he thought about it, paying for an extra bar just to have it melt beside him seemed wasteful, even pointless—as if every time he had repeated the gesture, it lost a little of whatever magic power he’d originally expected it to have. Axel was still gone, and buying ice cream no longer felt like it could help bring him back. Roxas studied his own half-finished bar, his expression clouding with thought.

“It’s weird,” he said aloud. “I guess I don’t know what being ‘sad’ is like, but…In my head, I still miss him. Axel, I mean.” Suddenly he wasn’t hungry. “He’s gone, so he shouldn’t matter anymore, but he still does to me. I can’t explain it.”

“I understand. At least, I think I do.” Xion shifted to better look at him. “You may not have a heart, but you have your mind, right? All of your memories of you two being together. And those memories…they don’t go away. Even though he did.” She pondered this. “It’s almost like…like he didn’t completely disappear. As long as you remember him, you still have something from him left inside you.”

“I dunno if that’s how it all works.” Roxas rubbed the side of his head with his free hand, wincing as the angle of the sunset changed just enough to hit him in the eyes. “Though, when you talk about it like that, it sounds kinda like him.”

“Huh? How?”

“Remember that phrase he used to say?”

“No.” Xion shook her head. “I’m sure I met Axel, but he left before I really got a handle on things. I don’t remember him, or any of the others. What was he like?”

What had Axel been like? To his own surprise, Roxas realized it was hard to say. It wasn’t like he couldn’t remember, but at the same time, there wasn’t much to tell. Axel had done most of the talking on those few training missions they’d been on, and on the clock tower, too, when they’d shared ice cream. Roxas hadn’t been very talkative back then.

“I didn’t know him that long,” Roxas admitted. “Only a couple of weeks. But he was nice to me even though I was really out of it. And he showed me this place, and bought me ice cream, and taught me all the basics about missions. He was…my friend, I think. He said so.”

Xion finished her ice cream. She looked oddly solemn as she wiped the last drops onto her coat sleeve.

“He sounds nice. I wonder if I could have been his friend, too.”

“I think so.” Actually Roxas had no idea how Axel would have reacted to Xion, but what reason might he have had to dislike her? The more he thought about it, the more confident he became. “Yeah, definitely. If Axel had made it back, I bet we’d all be up here every day after work, having ice cream together.”

“You really think so?” Xion tucked her legs up to her chest, so that she could wrap her arms around her knees. “Then…do you miss him every time we come up here?”

“Not all the time, but…whenever I think about it, I guess. Not always up here.” Roxas shrugged. “Kind of weird, being able to miss someone without a heart, huh? I guess missing someone for real is different. But…”

His ice cream was melting. He watched pale droplets trickle down his glove, not caring that they’d make it sticky.

“But I still wish I could see him again. Even…just one more time.”

For a while they sat in silence, finishing their ice cream. Roxas shielded his eyes to better watch the sunset, losing himself in vague recollections of these colors in the sky and this taste in his mouth but with another voice beside him, a taller silhouette who blocked the sunlight when he shifted position or gestured with a raised arm. The strange sensation that these memories conjured felt somewhat like pain, and when Roxas pushed it away, it came back stronger, like a toothache.

He couldn’t really feel anything—he’d been told it plenty of times. What was this, then? Some kind of injury? Or were ‘feelings’ simply this sensation magnified a hundredfold?

He realized Xion had bitten her lip and was watching him with concern.

“What’s wrong, Xion? You look worried.”

“It’s just scary. What happened to Axel.” She rested her chin on her knees. “Losing your friend forever…I can’t imagine it. What if one day you never came back from a mission? I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Hey, come on.” Roxas nudged her with an elbow. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Xion nudged him back, but without any force behind it, a playful fiction. Still, she smiled a little, and Roxas smiled too, then realized he was smiling. Strange. Xion being upset about Axel on his behalf made it…hurt less, somehow, as if he’d broken his pain in two and given her half of it to carry. Was that even possible? Or just some trick of his heartless condition?

“I wish I could have met Axel,” Xion said again. “He must have been special, if he was your friend.”

“Hey, you’re my friend too.” Roxas tapped a finger to the side of his head, doing his best impression of a voice Xion had never heard. “Got it memorized?”

A steady poking at his temple dragged him awake. Vexen groaned and peeled himself away from the desk, and as his brain began to clear, he realized both that he had a painful spot on his face that had been pressed to the tabletop, and that he had drooled onto his logbook.

“Must I say this every time, you incompetent—”

He cut himself off, blinking heavily. It wasn’t a Dusk for once.

“Xion. What is it?”

“Um, nothing. I just…” She had to stand on tiptoe to try and be level with him. “I was passing by and saw you, and I thought you were hurt.”

“From what evidence? I was quite clearly sleeping.”

He sat up (carefully—his back ached) and rubbed his hollow cheek, where the edge of the desk had left a red mark. Xion looked mildly concerned.

“Don’t you have a room to sleep in like the rest of us?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then how come you—”

“Well, I hardly meant to fall asleep, did I?” Vexen grimaced at the damage to his half-finished log entry. Salvageable, at least. “But it can’t be helped. I’m up to my neck lately, and these results won’t analyze themselves.”

He started rearranging the papers his accidental nap had shifted across the desk, Xion watching at his elbow. When one of the sheets fell to the floor, she scrambled under the table to retrieve it.

“Can I help?” she asked, reappearing.

“With what?”

“With all of this.” She handed him the paper, covered in numbers and notes in his cramped, unintelligible handwriting. “If I help out, maybe you can go to bed sooner. There’s a lot here…”

Vexen plucked the paper out of her hands, setting it on top of a stack at the corner of the desk.

“That won’t be necessary.” He studied her with a bemused expression, then laughed a little, as if she’d told a joke. Xion blinked.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are. I’ve never had an experiment offer to help me with another experiment.”

Smirking tiredly, Vexen busied himself with reorganizing his papers, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one gloved hand. Beside him, Xion looked equal parts curious and uncertain.

“So then, you’re going to just...keep working? It’s pretty late...”

“Well, none of this will sort itself out spontaneously, will it?” A thought seemed to occur to him, because he added, with sudden disapproval, “And in any case, what are you doing awake at this hour?”

“I’m not tired. My mission today was really easy.”

“Hmph. Well, tired or no, you’re far better off trying to rest than being up and about. I won’t make your excuses if you report late in the morning. Off to bed with you, this instant.”

“But I already tried to fall—”

“No buts. You need adequate sleep to function properly. I should know.”

When she did not dart away at once, he made an irritated noise, jabbing her in the ribs with a stack of papers.

“Did you not hear me? Go to bed.”

His tone permitted no argument, and Xion relented, reluctantly making for the door.

“You’ll go to bed soon, right?” she asked on her way out. “I mean...don’t you need sleep too?”

“What concern is it of yours?”

Xion could not come up with a good answer. Her last impression was of Vexen rubbing the sleep from his face with one hand, resting his elbows on the desk, a flurry of papers pinned beneath him.

Like the tide washing fresh treasures onto the beach each morning, every day’s assignment brought something new for Xion. Knowing just how young she was made her aware of how much catching up she had to do in order to know as much as the others, and consequently she applied herself with a determination that earned her the occasional complimentary lament from Demyx (“come on, you’re making me look even worse”).

The best part of every mission wasn’t ever the mission itself, but talking it over with Roxas on the clock tower afterwards, either rehashing the day’s adventures or just shooting the breeze. They had fewer serious conversations nowadays, simply because anything serious or bewildering was usually reserved for bothering Vexen with, if they chose to extend their visit in the lab—which they didn’t always. Sometimes Vexen really was too busy to allow them to stick around for any length of time, and sometimes they themselves weren’t in the mood.

Still, Xion tried to make it a point to visit every day, even if Roxas didn’t want to. It was almost an obligation, though not one she could explain, since Vexen wasn’t her friend. But he was…well, he was something. Roxas was a friend, but Vexen was something else, something she had no word for. He had brought her into existence; that authority put him in another category that “friend” didn’t seem to cover. If she could have articulated what she meant by it, she would have asked Vexen whether such a word existed, but she never did, since to her the idea was too vague. She even tried explaining it to Roxas one evening, but couldn’t.

“It’s like he belongs to me somehow. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but it’s just this feeling I have.”

“I don’t really get it,” Roxas admitted, shrugging. “But then again, I don’t have feelings, remember?”

Her missions grew gradually more challenging, and being in the field with others was always a learning opportunity. Their varied skills impressed her, and their equally varied attitudes interested her, if only because it was strange to see just how different Nobodies could be. While she rarely could tell Dusks and the other, lesser classes apart, the members of the Organization were as utterly different from one another as any real beings she’d observed across the worlds. Sometimes she asked them about who they’d been before, hoping for a more complete picture than Vexen had ever given, but no one was ever willing to answer any personal questions at length. It puzzled her.

“But why doesn’t anyone ever talk about it?” she pressed Xigbar, as they winded their way through the back alleys of Halloween Town. He’d casually sniped a Gargoyle Heartless out of the sky from across the town square, then laughed off her question about how he’d learned to shoot so well. “I thought your memories of the past are what makes everyone special. Vexen said memories are the most important thing a Nobody has.”

“Eh, guess that’s true,” Xigbar admitted, as they slipped into the network of graveyards branching off of the square. “But just because we’ve got memories doesn’t mean we wanna gab about ‘em. What’s done is done—no going back. Only thing that matters now is making plans for the future.”

“I just want to understand what it’s like,” Xion said, as they passed between the crumbling tombstones, their coats making them nearly invisible. “I don’t have many memories. So I’ve tried to imagine what it’s like to have years and years of them, but I can’t. It seems like so many…How do you keep track of them all?”

Xigbar chuckled to himself, his lone eye regarding her with amusement.

“You don’t,” he said. “Most of ‘em aren’t worth holding on to anyway.”

A herd of Heartless ambushed them at the far end of the graveyard, and Xigbar held back, picking off a few here and there with lazy potshots but mostly allowing Xion to hack through them on her own. Luckily there were few enough that Xion could take them out individually without fear of being overrun. The last Gargoyle fizzled into shreds of darkness beneath her Keyblade, and Xigbar clapped sarcastically as Xion caught her breath.

“Nice going, poppet.” He grinned and headed away when she dismissed her Keyblade. “You’re starting to get the hang of this.”

It took Xion a second to realize he wasn’t waiting for her, and she hurried forward, catching up just as he reached a low stone wall separating the small graveyard they were in from a barren, sloping field that lead towards a hill silhouetted against the huge moon.

“Why do you always call me that?” she asked, following along behind him. “‘Poppet.’ Does it mean something?”

“Nope. Just my little joke.”

“Is it just because it sounds like ‘puppet’? That’s sort of rude…”

“Hah! So, you know what you are, huh?” He hopped lightly onto the tumbled-down wall. “This whole time I wasn’t sure. Frosty said your brain was pretty scrambled when you first booted up.”

“Yeah. I forgot everything at first.” Xion clambered over the wall too, a feat more difficult for her than it had been for the taller Xigbar. “How come you know, though? The Replica Program is a secret.”

“As if.” Xigbar grinned and tapped his temple with two fingers. “I’m Number Two, kiddo. I know a lotta secrets.”

“Like what?”

“Wouldn’t be secrets if I told you, would they?” He jerked his head towards the hill in the distance. “C’mon, enough yapping. The sooner we find our real target, the sooner we can RTC.”

He hopped off the wall and set off across the field, Xion following. She wanted to ask what he’d meant, but his attitude told her he wouldn’t be in the mood to give a straight answer—which, come to think of it, was usually the case. But his words stayed with her as they wove in and out of the shadows, making for the base of the spiral hill.

The Organization had other secrets besides her? What kind?

The lab always smelled strange. Roxas was more or less used to it now, but the first whiff of it still jarred him when he set foot inside, and today the cocktail of chemicals was especially pungent, as if the place had just been cleaned. Xion was not with him. Work had taken her a long time today, and she’d said she was worn out enough to want to head straight to sleep.

Normally Roxas wouldn’t have come here without her, but today he had a question. And as impatient for an answer as he was, he still knew enough to wait until Vexen had finished his ice cream before broaching the subject.

“Vexen, I need to ask you something.”

“As if that’s anything new.” Vexen flipped through a batch of anatomical sketches. “What is it today?”

“Vexen—did you make me? Am I a Replica like Xion? Tell me the truth.”

Vexen looked up, frowning.

“What? No, certainly not. What in the worlds put that idea into your head?”

“Something Xigbar said to me today.”

“Oh, very good,” Vexen scoffed, gesturing with his ice cream. “You’ve been with the Organization how long? Three months, four? And you’ve yet to learn to disregard every word that comes out of that fool’s mouth.”

“I went on a mission with him today,” Roxas pressed, “and he said me and Xion are ‘exceptional.’ What does that mean? If she’s a Replica…”

“You can both use the Keyblade.” Vexen’s irritation spiked. “That is an invaluable ability to the Organization. So invaluable, in fact, that Xion was used to duplicate it as a failsafe measure. So, if you’re foolish enough to get yourself destroyed at some point, we can continue harvesting hearts without you. Surely the line of reasoning is obvious?”

“That’s it? That’s the only reason why I’m special?”

“Yes, boy, are you dense? The Keyblade is what makes you so very ‘exceptional.’ They’re hardly commonplace weapons.”

“So I’m not a Replica?”

“No, no, a thousand times no.” He grimaced and closed the book with a thump that emphasized his point. “Frankly I would expect more intelligence out of you if you were.”

“I’m not stupid,” Roxas grumbled. “Sheesh. Just because I don’t know as much as you…”

“To put it mildly.”

“It’s not even fair to compare, though,” Roxas bristled. “You’ve existed way longer than I have, and I only have memories from the past few months, so you’re like…” He did the math in his head. “You’re basically a hundred and fifty times older than me.”

Vexen spluttered.

“Excuse me? How old do you think I am?”

He kept sputtering as he swept up a pile of notes that he stuffed into one of the logbooks with unnecessary force.

“The nerve of it…only Number Thirteen in this Organization, I’ll remind you…”

“Cut me some slack.”

“And why should I? Your ignorance of even the most basic information—”

“You think I like not knowing things?” Roxas shot back, talking over Vexen. Without Xion here to subdue him, his temper flared freely. “Because I don’t. I don’t want to have to guess about everything I see while I’m out on missions. I don’t want to have a million questions all the time. But calling me a moron won’t make me any smarter.” He glared stubbornly. “I know I don’t know anything compared to you and everybody else. But I want to know. And I don’t know what you expect me to do besides ask.”

Vexen appraised him. The look wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t a sneer, either; it was the look he might give to the one result in a large batch of tests that hadn’t gone as expected. He and Roxas stared each other down, Vexen doing that strange squint he was capable of that narrowed only one eye.

“I’ll give you this, boy,” he said at last, returning his attention to his work. “You’re aware of your ignorance, and are willing to correct it. That at least puts you ahead of the rabble.”

“What do you mean?”

Vexen made a mark in the book next to a ream of his own indecipherable handwriting.

“Most people—even beings who exist—don’t bother to ask questions. If they see something they don’t understand, they simply ignore it, or fear it, or conjure some foolish lie to explain it. Or else they choose to believe whatever is most convenient or compelling to themselves, instead of actually seeking out reliable data. But progress is only made by discovering the truth. And the truth is only found through rigorous experimentation.”

“So…it’s not stupid to ask questions?”

“No.” Vexen regarded him. “In fact you should cultivate your curiosity. It’s not an emotion, and so it can’t be dulled by the absence of a heart. That makes it an important tool—one you’ll always have with you.”

“How am I supposed to ‘cultivate’ it when all you do is call me an idiot for not knowing stuff already?”

Vexen muttered something too low for Roxas to make out, but to Roxas’s surprise he stopped working and tapped the pen against the corner of the workbench,  thinking.

“If I’m harsh,” he said, “it’s because I’m holding you to a certain standard. But you’re practically a blank slate. It’s only natural that your knowledge base would be unusually shallow…”

“Gee, you think?” Roxas groused. “Besides…You keep telling me and Xion that if we learn more, we’ll get smarter. But I don’t think it works like that. Every time you tell us about something, it just gives me even more questions.”

“That means you’re using your mind as you ought.” To Roxas’s surprise, Vexen looked pleased by this admission. “Only a fool thinks he’s penetrated a deep mystery after one data point. As your knowledge grows, your understanding of what you don’t know will grow with it. If it doesn’t, that’s a sign you’re not thinking enough.”

“So...more questions are a good thing?”

“Indeed.” Vexen regarded him. “Frankly, your attitude is what’s most concerning, not your ignorance.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s indicative of how you approach problems.”

“Approach them how? What am I supposed to be doing?”

Vexen studied his defiant expression.

“If you have a question about something, Roxas—investigate it. Don’t simply sit idle and wonder why the world makes no sense to you.” He made a sweeping gesture, his long sleeve flapping. “Analyze everything you encounter, and always be willing to dig deeper. The closer attention you pay, the more connections you’ll be able to draw between seemingly unrelated data. Rudimentary as your critical thinking skills may currently be, I do applaud your desire to better yourself. Apply yourself to that task, and someday you may even surprise me.”

“Thanks…I guess.” It wasn’t much, but it was as close to a compliment as Vexen had ever come. “So me and Xion can keep coming to ask you stuff, right?”

“I doubt you would stop even if I forbade it. Xion is incorrigibly social for some reason.”

“Are you still gonna be rude about it all the time?”

To Roxas’s surprise, Vexen laughed.

“Rude, am I? Well, you should get used to it. If you’re going to continue seeking my opinion, you’ll have to accept my standards. Prove you aren’t dimwitted and I’ll stop treating you as such.”

“Great,” Roxas groaned. “I’m sure that’ll be a breeze. Can’t we just—I dunno, pay you more ice cream or something?”

Vexen laughed again, the sound reverberating through the chilly lab.

“Well, I suppose that’s another viable strategy…”

Research Entry 420

Xion and Roxas have developed a symbiotic relationship. Outside of missions one hardly sees them apart. I hypothesized that something of the sort could occur, but even I was too conservative about the full extent of their potential connection. It may be fruitful ground for further study.

In addition, I realize now that I should have attempted to imbue Xion with a basic body of knowledge, despite the obstacles to doing so at the Program’s outset. She and Roxas are perpetually asking questions about the most obvious fundamentals. Circumstances notwithstanding, the pair’s ignorance is truly woeful.

It seems the burden of correcting it falls to me.

He did not see the notice, as he’d headed to the lab first thing instead the Grey Area, needing to check on several ongoing experiments. Halfway through the second batch of results, Xion and Roxas showed up uninvited, and the novelty of a morning visit from them both was his first indication that something was amiss. He didn’t believe their announcement, and had to be brought a copy of the notice fixed to the walls elsewhere in the castle as proof. Even then, the news was hard to swallow. This hadn’t happened in a long time.

“What are vacation days for, though?” Roxas asked.

“If I ever take one,” Vexen said, not sparing him a look as he worked, “I’ll advise you of that answer. Now I highly suggest you two make use of yours to go and do as you please. Something that doesn’t involve bothering me, for instance.”

“You should come with us!” said Xion brightly. “You don’t have to work today, either.”

“I should, should I? Hmph. And where are the two of you going?”

“To eat ice cream,” said Roxas.

“And train with the Keyblade,” Xion added. “I want to get better at using it.”

“Ice cream and combat training. A perfectly ordinary day for the pair of you, then. How prosaic.”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do?” Roxas demanded. “I’ve never had a vacation before.”

“Me neither…”

“I’m aware. Still, your collective lack of imagination is deplorable. One would think you’d at least have enough innate curiosity to go somewhere new.”

“Is that what you do on vacations?” Roxas asked, as if they had tricked Vexen into revealing forbidden knowledge. “You go somewhere you’ve never been before?”

“Very often, yes. That, or somewhere you’ve been previously but would like to spend more time. Somewhere exotic, perhaps. Now, if you two are quite through asking frivolous questions…”

Roxas grimaced, but Xion looked thoughtful, and her expression brightened.

“Hey, I know where we should all go. If it’s supposed to be somewhere exotic…Somewhere you want to see again…”

“Really? Where were you thinking, Xion?”

“And what is all of this about 'we'?” 

They managed, after an hour, to drag him to the beach.

Vexen regretted it immediately, blinking in the sun as Xion and Roxas took off running down the shoreline, scattering seagulls. Still, now that he’d come all the way here, retreating at once would be tantamount to admitting defeat. He settled for camping in the shade of some palms halfway up the shore, muttering and scowling as he brushed sand from the sides of his coat, conjuring frost to keep himself comfortable. After all, it wasn’t as if he had to stay long. Just long enough to appease the children’s sense of novelty.

It was a good plan, but it failed. Xion brought him seashells and asked about their shapes, and when he explained she brought everything else that caught her eye, scraps of coral and broken sharks’ teeth and a writhing alien starfish the size of a dinner plate. As usual, she and Roxas had no end of questions. Vexen would have been more annoyed had he not seen some scientific value in it; it was of interest to probe the pair’s ignorance when exposed to a new environment, discovering the blurred lines between what they knew innately and what they’d managed to learn in their short lives. He could not quite detect a pattern, which frustrated him. Sometimes they readily grasped concepts that neither had firsthand knowledge of, yet other, equally simple facts required a proper explanation. The color of the sky, for instance.

“Why is the sky here blue?”

“You say that as if it’s something out of the ordinary.”

“I meant…” Roxas gathered his thoughts. “Well, in Twilight Town, the sky is always red, because of the sunset. I think the sunset is red here too. But the sky’s usually blue in most worlds.” He watched a fat cloud scuttle beyond his line of sight, as if chasing something. “So why is the sky blue? Why does it change color and everything?”

“It’s really quite simple.”

Roxas had been lying on his back, enjoying the shade of the palms and the coolness of Vexen’s nearby magic; now he sat up to hear better, brushing sand out of his hair. Vexen, sitting well out of the sun with his back to a palm tree, drew a circle inside of another circle in the sand with a gloved finger.

“The world’s atmosphere acts as a lens,” he said, tapping the outer of the two circles he’d drawn. “If there were no atmosphere, one would simply always see the sky as it appears at night—viewing all of the darkness between the worlds, and the worlds themselves as stars. But the atmosphere around the world creates a barrier that affects the light passing through it.”

He drew a line directly down that pierced the outer circle to touch the inner one. Roxas looked interested.

“You’ve seen a rainbow before, I take it? So you’ll know light is composed of differently-colored wavelengths. Blue is nearly the shortest wavelength, so under direct sun, it isn’t scattered away by the atmosphere, and overpowers all longer wavelengths to our eyes.”

“So the red’s always there, but we just can’t see it?”

“Quite so. At sunrise and sunset, however, the situation changes. Sunlight must pass through more of the atmosphere.”

Vexen drew another line that pierced the outer circle from the side, as if the sun’s rays were coming from the horizon. At this angle, the line had to pass much further through the outer circle before finally touching the inner one.

“In this situation, the extra impediment is enough to refract away all but the longest wavelength of light—red. Hence the changing colors of the sky at different times of day.” He brushed his hand onto his coat, ridding his glove of sand. “Unless a particular world has wildly nonstandard physics, you will observe this effect everywhere you go. One might say all worlds share the same sky.”

“Huh.” Roxas tilted his head at the diagram in the sand, then gazed up at the clouds with a new appreciation. “That’s pretty neat.” He paused, then added, “How come you know so much, anyway?”

“I’m a scientist.”

“And that means you know stuff?”

“To grossly oversimplify, yes.”

In the lab Vexen would have let this explanation suffice, but the situation had actually managed to unwind him a bit. He adjusted his back against the palm tree and gestured out to the wind and waves with one hand. In the distance, Xion splashed through the shallows, looking for shells.

“A scientist’s goal is to observe the world and to learn more about it by gathering and examining data. In concept, it’s a practice simple enough for a child to grasp. In practice, however, intelligence and creativity are required.”

“You gather data all the time? Like a permanent recon mission?”

“Hah! Not quite, no. One establishes specific hypotheses and conducts experiments to test them. The results lead to further hypotheses until, ideally, a new discovery is made. That is the scientific method.”

“So…you try a bunch of stuff until you figure out why things happen.”

“Essentially. Though the stuff, as you put it, is usually extremely sophisticated.” He indicated the distant Xion, wandering up and down the beach. “Your ostensible duplicate is an example of science’s potential. Certainly she is my most impressive accomplishment to date.”

Roxas looked appropriately impressed. Xion noticed their attention and waved at them, and Roxas waved back, then asked, “Okay, so…what else can you do with science? Besides make Xion.”

“What can’t you do, boy? Look around you.”

Roxas gave the sand and sea a puzzled sweep. Vexen realized his error and made a dismissive gesture.

“Well, perhaps this place isn’t the best example…but nevertheless, science is the reason societies have been able to accomplish anything among the worlds. Engineering, physics, magic, chemistry, biology…Any rigorous application of trial and error to a question is an example of the scientific method in action. Without it we’d all be flailing in the mud.”

Overhead, a cloud that looked like a Heartless drifted lazily past, casting its shadow over the already shadowed sand beneath the palms. Roxas dusted sand off of the back of his coat.

“I dunno. Everything you do in the lab always seems so complicated. Is science really just…asking questions? And learning how stuff works?”

“Fundamentally, yes. It’s the methodology that’s complex, not the core principles.”

At some point, Xion had stopped gathering seashells. She flopped down on the sand nearby, dumping out the shells she’d carried apron-style in her coat, fishing even more out of her pockets.

“I found a lot of different ones!” she said, sweaty but grinning. She sifted through the pile and held one aloft, a black-and-white striped cone almost four inches long. “Look at this one. It looks like Xigbar’s hair. And this one over here…”

Roxas helped her sort her trophies, and though Vexen insisted he knew little to nothing about marine life, he still managed to tell them more than they could have guessed themselves about the different creatures that once inhabited their pile of trinkets. In the end Xion kept only a handful of them, returning the rest to the shallows before settling in the shade beside Roxas.

Vexen, having seemingly accepted the grim reality of being on vacation, cast more magic to cool the air around him, and the blast of cold was welcome enough to make Xion and Roxas sit closer to him. Even in the shade, their black coats were a burden.

“Next time we should bring different clothes,” said Xion, pulling at the collar of her hood, which had started sticking to her skin with sweat.

“We don’t have any other clothes,” Roxas pointed out. Vexen scoffed.

“Already thinking of a next time, are you? Well, don’t get your hopes up. Vacation days are few and far between.”

Roxas rubbed sand out of his hair. Xion busied herself with organizing her collection of seashells, and held the largest one up to her ear for a moment, listening.

“Hey Vexen—how come you can hear the ocean inside of a seashell?” she asked.

“You can’t. It’s merely the amplification of ambient sounds in the environment. Acoustic resonance.”

“Really? I thought maybe it was magic.”

“Always a possibility, but rarely the case. One should always suspect a mundane cause first, especially if it’s something that happens consistently.”

“Well, it’s happened with every shell I’ve tried, so…” Xion turned the shell over in her hand, studying its rippling pattern. “Probably not magic, then.”

Intrigued, Roxas picked a shell and held it up to his ear, listening. Now that he had the ocean near at hand to compare with, it really didn’t sound that similar. Just random swirling noise, more like air than water. It lacked the distinctive rhythm of the waves.

“Y’know, Vexen…you’re pretty good at explaining things,” he admitted, setting the shell aside.

Vexen brushed tiny water droplets from his coat, where the frost he’d conjured had already begun to melt.

“I’ve had a lot of practice. Such is the price of intellectual superiority.” He regarded the both of them, one hand drifting up to hold his chin. “That aside, you two ought to be exercising your own minds whenever possible. This Organization can’t afford more laziness than it’s already burdened with.”

“You mean like Demyx?”

“A shining example. But don’t use his behavior as an excuse to do the same.”

Xion went to gather more seashells, disappearing out of sight down the shoreline. Roxas considered following her, but his boots and the bottom of his coat were already soaked and sand-crusted from his previous exploration of the surf, and he wanted to at least let his shoes dry before exploring more. He contented himself with watching the waves shimmer picturesquely behind the screen of wide-spaced palms, the sun sparkling off the ever-rolling water, as if a layer of diamond dust floated on the sea’s surface.

Xion, however, returned to them within ten minutes, clutching a large, lumpy yellow object that turned out to be a fruit shaped like a five-pointed star.

“Look what I found!” she announced, brandishing her discovery as she sat back down. “There’s a whole tree of these on that small island past the bridge. What’s it called, Vexen?”

“That, I don’t know,” Vexen said, as Xion brushed sand from the outside of it. “It might be native to this world. I’ve certainly never seen that species elsewhere. A fruit of some sort, clearly.”

“It smells really good. I wanna taste it.” She poked at it to test its firmness. “Do you want some, Roxas?”

“Uh…sure, I guess. You think it’s safe to eat?”

“Yeah!” She pulled a glove off and dug her fingernails into the rind. “When I used to come here to get seashells for you when you were asleep, I saw people eating these sometimes.”

Roxas and Xion split the fruit down the middle. The pithy outer rind was a little too chewy to be enjoyable, but the inner flesh was firm and sweet, with a tangy aftertaste that lingered on the tongue even after swallowing.

“It’s sweet,” was Xion’s verdict, “but a little bit sour, too.”

“Yeah, it’s good,” said Roxas. The bright taste was strangely familiar, and he popped a second piece into his mouth, trying to figure out why. Xion took another bite, then broke off one of the star’s points and peeled away the skin.

“Here, Vexen, have some. It’s really good.”

“I think not.”

“You’ll like it,” she insisted. “It’s sweet like ice cream.”

“C’mon, Vexen, try it,” said Roxas—and then added, jokingly, “Everything is data, right? It’s for science.”

Vexen scowled at him, though not as hard as usual, and Xion prodded him in the arm with the piece of fruit.

“Oh, very well,” he grumbled, accepting the fruit and examining it with obvious ambivalence. His first bite was tentative, but it evidently passed muster, because he took another, more confident bite at once.

“It’s certainly different,” he admitted, “but you’re both right. Quite palatable.”

Xion broke him off another piece, and Roxas bit into his own huge chunk, juice running down the side of his chin. It had such a familiar taste...

The mystery fruit was so good that when the three of them finished it, Xion immediately went to fetch another.

Chapter Text

That night, knocking sand out of his boots and nursing the beginnings of a sunburn across his face, Roxas had the vague notion that perhaps the Organization’s collective vacation would change something about how the next day unfolded. In this he was disappointed. When he reported to the Grey Area early the next morning, no one seemed in any better humor than usual, and before he could exchange a word with Xion, Saïx sent him off with Xaldin on reconnaissance to the world they had christened “the Beast’s castle.”

He had never worked directly with Xaldin before and wasn’t sure what to expect, but the first quarter of an hour convinced him it would be no worse than being around Vexen on a bad day. Roxas trailed behind him for most of the way, taking stock of details that struck him—of which there were many. The castle was a strange place, dark and musty, very different to the Castle That Never Was. It felt like crawling through the skeletal remains of some long-dead leviathan, counting the cracks in its bleached ribs, trying to piece together how it had once behaved.

Strangest of all was the decor. The Castle That Never Was seemed surgical in its sterility compared to this labyrinth of statuary, paintings, carpets, and tapestries, and everything they saw had a fearsome or melancholy look. Grotesque monsters adorned even the colorful stained glass windows. At one point Roxas paused in a hallway to examine an intimidating sculpture of a snarling creature with a man’s arms and torso, but the legs and head of a bull.

“Weird statue, huh?” he mused aloud. Behind him, Xaldin scoffed.

“Art is beyond our ken, Roxas. It takes a heart to feel moved.”

Xaldin headed away, disinterested, but Roxas contemplated the statue further. What did ‘being moved’ feel like, then? Did Xion ever feel that way, with her Replica’s makeshift heart? And did that mean if she were here in his place, this would make her sense something, or do something? Was that how it worked? Maybe he could ask her tonight, on the clock tower, if she had ever had that kind of reaction to a statue…But no, Xaldin had said ‘art,’ so it wasn’t just statues. Art could make hearts feel things? How did that even work?

They managed to scout most of the castle without incident, despite nearly being spotted twice by the servants. In the west wing they found the chambers of the creature who appeared to be the place’s master, and this discovery satisfied Xaldin that the mission was complete. The last thing they stumbled upon (and the strangest, in Roxas’s opinion) was a glowing red rose in the Beast’s chambers, floating eerily under a glass dome. Xaldin seemed to think it mattered more than anything else they’d found all day.

“The beast’s weakness is clear,” he decided. Roxas looked between him and the rose, puzzled.

“It is?”

“To hold something dear is to let it hold you. His heart is in thrall to it, don’t you see? And that, Roxas, is ample weakness.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Nor should you. You have no heart to love with.” Xaldin jerked his head, rattling his long dreads. “Come. We return.”

Roxas did not move. The mysterious flower still held his attention, and as he watched a single petal drifted from it to flutter to the tabletop, its glow fading away as it landed. It had fallen unusually slowly, like a tear being shed.

“Are you coming?” he heard Xaldin ask.

“I still have some questions about that rose.”

“Now is not the time. Leave it.”

He could hear Xaldin moving away, yet still Roxas stared at the rose. Its light stained the nearby furniture blood-red. A ‘weakness’ that ‘enthralled’ the heart…

“What if we took a sample?”

Xaldin looked over his shoulder.

“What are you on about?”

“We know the rose is important to the Beast.” Roxas rested a hand on his chin, frowning at it through the cracked door. “And we know that there’s some kind of spell around it too. So, maybe we could take a little piece and RTC with it. Like one petal. If we study it and figure out what kind of magic it does, it could help us understand why the Beast cares about it so much.” He looked up at Xaldin. “Think that might work?”

Xaldin snorted.

“Don’t be naive. I’m sure even a single thorn off that rose would be missed.”

Unwilling to argue the point, Roxas finally tore his gaze away from the glowing flower. It had a hypnotic quality.

“It was just an idea,” he said. “I mean, it’s sitting right there.”

“And guarded, no doubt, in ways we’d best not discover.”

“So the Organization doesn’t collect samples?” As the portal opened before them, Roxas drew level with Xaldin. “It seems like that would be a good thing to do on recon. It’s another way to gather information, isn’t it?”

“Our priority is to be discreet,” Xaldin said. “And samples are odd talk, coming from you.”

He gave Roxas an appraising look which Roxas couldn’t interpret, then entered the portal. Roxas followed.

“Why is it so strange?” he asked, as the darkness engulfed them both. “I mean, how else are we supposed to figure things out?”

Xion was apparently not a perfect duplicate of Roxas, as the previous day in the sun had tanned her noticeably darker than him, and even scattered a few freckles across the bridge of her nose. Vexen, despite all his efforts, had burned. He’d healed most of it already, but the worst spots needed time to heal on their own, and he muttered darkly each time he rubbed the bridge of his nose, which was already beginning to peel.

“I hope you two don’t expect me to do that again,” he was saying.

“You’re just mad because you got sunburned.” Roxas touched the nape of his neck. “I did too. Good thing me and Xaldin were inside all day today.”

Xion checked her distorted reflection in a glass beaker, poking one of her new freckles.

“Will my skin stay like this forever?”

“If you keep going out in the sun, it will stay that way, or darken further. If you don’t, you’ll lighten up eventually.” Vexen plucked the beaker out of her hand, making her start. “Now, for once will you both make some attempt to entertain yourselves? I have a lot of work to do this evening.”

Instead of arguing, Xion pulled an extra ice cream bar out of her pocket and unwrapped it, handing it over. As usual, Vexen accepted the bribe without the slightest thank-you, muttering as he took a huge bite, his voice muffled as he spoke around it. Still, it seemed to placate him somewhat.

“I appreciate your curiosity, but I really do have business to attend to. If you’re going to stay this evening, you’ll have to keep from being a distraction. Save your questions for another time.”

“No questions at all?” Xion asked, disappointed.

“Not even one?” Roxas prodded. Unlike Xion, he rarely took Vexen’s admonishments at face value. “I have a few from my mission today. Xaldin and I saw a lot of stuff.”

Briefly he explained the incident with the rose, concluding with, “But when I told him we should collect a sample, he acted like I was being weird. You’re always going on about how samples are ‘excellent data,’ so—why don’t we ever bring stuff back from our recon missions? There has to be a way to do it without getting caught, right?”

Vexen laughed. He finished another bite of ice cream before answering.

“Xaldin may have been right in that particular situation—but your instinct was surprisingly perceptive. It’s vital to collect as much data as possible, especially on important phenomena. It’s commendable that you thought of it at all.” He regarded him with one of his odd smiles. “Hm. You’re actually learning, aren’t you?”

“Well, you don’t have to sound so surprised…”

“I know this is no job for a rookie, but I ain’t got much of a choice! This is the real deal, so stay sharp.”

“I will.”

Roxas eyed the entrance to the Coliseum warily, trying to gauge the amount of Heartless from what noises he could pick up at this distance. There was definitely at least one big one in there, and who knew how many smaller ones. Of course, he was here on heart collection and not hero duty, but at this point, he had no choice but to play along with the disguise he’d accidentally fashioned the first time he’d come to this world. The satyr wheezed as he hopped from hoof to hoof, waving his arms.

“Hey, hold on. Let me give ya two words of advice. Don’t. Get. Careless!”

“Um, right.” Like that helped…Roxas steeled himself and hurried into the arena.

He’d been right: there was a big one, covered in clay-like armor and shaking the earth with each step. At least it was slow-moving. Roxas took out the Shadows as quickly as he could, then turned his attention to the large one, searching for joints in its armor as its beady eyes focused on him.

A boy in red swung the Keyblade with a cry, the silver shaft flashing in the sun—

Roxas’s attack slammed hard into the large Heartless, chipping a fist-sized flake off of its armor. He was gone before its lumbering counterattack could reach him, diving out of the way as the boy in red rolled to dodge. The Clay Armor’s huge bulk smashing into the earth created a divot in the sandy floor of the arena, the shockwaves unbalancing Roxas. Fortunately the creature was slow to rise again. Roxas used the opportunity to strike at its vulnerable head, darting away again to avoid the ring of jittery Soldiers clanking closer all around him the Clay Armor’s heavy swipe.

The ring of Soldiers impressed itself upon his vision again, shimmering like a mirage as the boy in red struck them down one by one. Roxas shook the vision off just in time to avoid another crushing blow from the real Heartless in front of him.

Patience and evasion won the day. A powerful strike finally made the Heartless crack into pieces and vanish, and Roxas panted and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, watching the glittering heart float away and disappear into the blue sky as the coils of darkness evaporated. His wrist ached. He dismissed the Keyblade and shook his hand out, clenching and unclenching his fingers, looking around the sand-strewn arena.

There was no sign of the phantom Soldiers, or the phantom boy who had been fighting them.

It wasn’t his first experience with this. Such flashes had happened a few times before, on other worlds and in other circumstances. But this had been…stronger, somehow. The vision had seemed just a little more real, as if he were watching it happen.

Roxas looked down at his empty hand, flexing his fingers, watching the way his glove tightened and then relaxed as he pretended to grip the Keyblade’s handle.

Another boy fighting Heartless with the Keyblade…What did it mean?

“Why are some of the flowers different colors?”

“Hm?”

Xion pointed at several of the sweet-scented blooms in the towering bush beside them. Luxord examined one closer.

“Ah, those are hydrangeas. But as to why they’re different colors, I’m not certain. I’d wager they’re different varieties.”

They had staked out in a blind alley of Wonderland’s hedge maze, waiting for the Emerald Serenade to come into view as it floated on a fixed path through the maze, camouflaged against the green. Hunting it down aggressively was out of the question, not when there were more card soldiers about than usual. Stealth was the obvious choice. But until found and provoked, the Emerald Serenade would be agonizingly slow, and ambushing it was the only sure option.

“It’s the same plant, though.”

Xion gently prodded one of the bundles of flowers. She was circling the huge bush (the size of a small tree) with great interest, poking here and there at the bunches of softball-sized flower clusters that dotted it like paper lanterns.

“Look at it,” she said. “It’s all one bush, but the flowers are pink over here and blue over there. And purple in some places, too.”

Luxord raised an eyebrow, watching her examine the bush.

“So it is. But perhaps that’s simply how they always look in this world. It’s an odd place, after all.” He watched her pull a scrap of paper out of her pocket. “What are you writing?”

“Notes about the flowers. So I don’t forget my question.” She scribbled on the paper pressed against the bottom of her coat. “What are they called again?”

“Hydrangeas.”

“How do you spell that?”

“I’m not sure.” Luxord stroked his goatee. “A question for whom, I wonder?”

“Huh? Oh, for Vexen.” Xion finished writing and folded the scrap of paper, tucking it back into her coat pocket. “He knows a lot, so I ask him things.”

Luxord looked amused, but Xion didn’t notice. She busied herself with the flowers once more, sometimes popping back into view to check the hedge for their target, like a puppy sniffing at something despite becoming repeatedly distracted.

“Any sign of it?” she asked, finally abandoning the flowers. “It’s been a long time.”

“Barely ten minutes,” Luxord corrected.

He summoned his deck of playing cards, shuffling them from hand to hand. But he watched the maze intently for only a short while before looking down at Xion.

“Here’s a thought,” he said, and gestured with a joker card to the forked path that led away deeper into the maze. “If I recall correctly, there’s a narrower bottleneck up ahead, to our left. Catch our quarry there, and we improve our odds of a quick victory tremendously. What do you say, Xion?”

“Isn’t that risky? We already know for sure it will pass this way…What if we miss it?”

“Life is tremendously dull without taking risks,” Luxord said sagely. “And non-existence even more so. Though if you don’t remember anything of life, I suppose you have no way of knowing. Come—let’s make the gamble.”

Xion followed him as he slipped forward through the maze, the two of them ducking into side paths whenever they heard the shuffling march of a card soldier coming around a bend. She stayed as close behind Luxord as she could, and unlike some of the other members she’d worked with, he kept an eye on her and checked his pace, never threatening to leave her behind. His comment stayed with her as they snuck along.

Did Luxord know the truth about her? Was he supposed to?

Xion thought it through as they navigated the hedges and realized that no, Luxord probably didn’t know she was a Replica—in which case she was also not supposed to tell him. It struck her that the rule was silly, and the recollection that Vexen thought it was silly too bolstered her conviction. What was the point of only having some members know and not others? Would she really be treated differently if everyone found out? She didn’t want to think so, and yet…Well, it wasn’t her place to find out, either. It was forbidden. And whatever Luxord said, some risks surely weren’t worth taking.

They caught up with the Emerald Serenade in a more open path in the hedges, and Luxord was able to get a clear shot at it, hitting it with a spell that temporarily stopped time. Xion battered the Heartless until it unfroze, and Luxord then drove it down the hedge row towards her, trapping it between them. Xion concentrated.

The diving strike she performed was something she’d only recently begun to practice, but it was enough. With one blow the Emerald Serenade dissolved into darkness, a constellation of hearts remaining briefly before also disappearing, like the sparkle of fireworks against a night sky. Xion dismissed her Keyblade.

“It seems Lady Luck was with us today,” Luxord announced, strolling up. “The game is ended ahead of schedule. Time to RTC.”

Xion had grazed the hedge more than once during the battle, and pulled thorns out of her coat and leaves out of her hair as Luxord summoned back all the playing cards that had scattered as he fought. He looked amused at her, doubly so when she finished cleaning her hair and immediately checked her coat pockets for the paper she’d put there earlier, making sure she hadn’t lost it in the skirmish. It was thankfully intact.

“You know, at times I find myself envying you children,” he remarked, watching her carefully smooth the creases out of the paper. “You and Roxas are both charmingly curious. Perhaps some fundamental difference exists between those who become Nobodies as adults and otherwise.”

Xion wanted to confess she hadn’t ever been human, but said only, “Do you really think so?”

Luxord plucked a loose card from inside the sleeve of his coat, adding it back to the deck.

“The longer you’ve lived,” he mused, “the more you are positioned to lose with a gamble such as ours. But a child can look forward, unafraid even in the face of immeasurable odds.” He dismissed his deck of cards into thin air. “I doubt you and Roxas even see life as a gamble the way the rest of us do.”

“I thought, once we finish Kingdom Hearts…” I won’t change. Instead you’ll become more like me. “All of us will be complete. So it’s not a gamble, because we know exactly what’s going to happen next.”

“Do you really think so?” He wasn’t smiling now, but something in his eyes suggested amusement nonetheless. “My point stands proven, then.”

Xion didn’t understand what he meant, but sensed that he wouldn’t explain even if she asked. On their way back to the dark corridor they’d left open, she collected a few flowers to help explain her case in the lab.

The hydrangeas’ color turned out to be connected to the pH of the soil they grew in, acidic soil producing blue flowers and alkaline soil producing pink ones. Vexen demonstrated the concept by dipping color-changing strips into various substances, and the revelation so fascinated both Xion and Roxas that a few days later he let them try it out themselves while he worked, periodically glancing over to make sure they hadn’t spilled anything. Sea salt ice cream turned out to be very mildly alkaline.

“If you two were human, you would have already learned this sort of thing in school,” he remarked. “Really, it’s quite elementary…”

“Is that what human kids go to school for?” Roxas asked. “Learning stuff like this?”

“Among other subjects, yes.”

“Huh.” Roxas considered this. “Sounds kinda fun.”

“You’d change your tune after your first round of homework, I imagine.”

“Is homework harder than doing missions for the Organization?”

Vexen snorted, but did not argue. Roxas pulled his goggles down around his neck, making Xion laugh at once.

“Roxas, your eyes…” She giggled, and Roxas caught his reflection in the polished metal surface of the workbench. The goggles had been tight, and left red rings around his eyes like a raccoon.

“Bet you look silly too,” he teased, and when she shed her own goggles he was proven right. They laughed at each other, and the commotion make Vexen glare at them, unused to there being any kind of noise in the lab that wasn’t caused by himself.

“What did I say about goofing off? This is a laboratory, not a playground.”

Roxas ignored him, rubbing at the goggle marks around his eyes as Xion giggled into the back of her hand. Vexen glared at them, one eye narrowed.

“If you two are quite finished,” came his annoyed voice, “clean up after yourselves. The last thing I need is my equipment left in disarray.”

“Don’t you make the Dusks do stuff like that?” Roxas asked, as Xion immediately started corralling beakers onto a tray. “Cleaning up and everything?”

“Cleaning, sometimes. Cleaning up, never. I did try that years ago, but they’re hardly capable of the necessary delicacy. It was one disaster after another.”

Roxas and Xion shared a grin. It was easy to imagine the scene: Dusks slithering around carrying beakers and books while Vexen screeched at them in a panic, darting from one end of the lab to the other. Vexen noticed their expressions and scowled harder.

“Whatever is so terribly funny, I’m sure it’s not enough to keep you from tidying. I have more than enough on my plate without also having to sweep up after a pair of rank amateurs.”

They did as they were told, still laughing and chatting to each other as they worked, making Vexen grumble.

The kinds of missions Roxas and Xion were sent on didn’t vary much, though the randomness of the schedule and the uniqueness of each world at least spared them too strong a sense of monotony. On occasion Saïx ordered them to take on especially large or aggressive Heartless as a team, and these missions almost always took less time than usual, which let the two of them stake out their spot on the clock tower sooner and talk for the whole afternoon.

“Wish we could always get scheduled like this,” Roxas sighed, lying on his back on the tower and watching the pigeons come and go above them. “Imagine us working all our missions together. It’d be pretty great.”

“I don’t think Saïx would let us do that. He only teams us up if there’s a whole lot of Heartless.” Xion bit into her ice cream. “I guess it’s not efficient most of the time.”

“Maybe if I broke my arm or something, we could work together every day.”

“I don’t think that would be worth it…”

“C’mon, Xion, I’m kidding.” Roxas sat up. Below them, shoppers arriving up from the market square fanned across the station plaza, carrying bags. “Either way, I hope I at least get sent to a new world soon. I’ve been to Agrabah three times this week already. I dunno how those people can live in a place with that much sand.”

Aside from the clock tower and their self-imposed habit of dropping in on Vexen, the Organization didn’t offer anything in the way of extracurricular activities, nor did the other members seem interested in socialization in the first place. Everyone kept more or less to themselves after work, though in talking to Luxord one evening, Roxas was invited to his weekly poker game (which Vexen insisted he not attend). Beyond this, however, no one seemed interested in fraternizing, though to varying degrees. Talking to Xaldin or Saïx in the Grey Area was like pulling teeth, while Xigbar or Demyx would chat at the slightest provocation.

“Everyone’s so different,” Roxas mused on the clock tower. “You know? None of us have hearts, but we’re still not like the Dusks or the other Nobodies. They all seem the same to me.”

“Everyone has different skills,” Xion pointed out. “That’s why you all have different ranks and titles and everything.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about those.” Roxas took another bite of ice cream, thinking. “I don’t even remember what mine’s supposed to be. I think it’s something about the Keyblade.” It came to him, and he brightened. “Oh yeah. ‘The Key of Destiny.’ I guess since the Keyblade is so special or whatever.”

“Then what does that make me?” Xion asked. “The…Other Key of Destiny?”

“I dunno. But we have the same powers, right? I guess we should have the same title too.”

“So I’m just a spare key.”

Xion smiled at the joke, but the thought seemed to concern her as well, for she bit her lip.

“I’m the lowest rank, too,” she finally said. “We’re called Organization XIII, but I’m the fourteenth. Not even on the list.”

“I don’t think the ranks really matter,” Roxas said. “Saïx is only Number Seven, right? But he’s the one who gives all of us our missions. And Vexen is the only one who ever brings up the ranks in the first place. I bet they’re not important.”

Vexen disagreed vehemently with this sentiment when he caught wind of it in the lab.

“That is quite enough attitude from you both,” he said, pointing his ice cream back and forth between them. “I don’t have to stand here in my own laboratory and listen to such insolence. I am Number Four in this Organization, and I can assure you it matters tremendously. I don’t know who told you otherwise.”

Roxas and Xion exchanged looks, unconvinced, but before Vexen could wind himself up, Xion struck. Pacifying him before he could go off on a tirade had become something of her speciality.

“We know the ranks matter, Vexen,” she assured him. “But Roxas was saying that…well, the numbers don’t always match up with the work that we all do. Right? Like how Xigbar is Number Two, and you’re Number Four, but everything you do is a lot more important…”

Behind Vexen’s back, Roxas rolled his eyes. Vexen, however, seemed mollified, and when he turned away to resume his work without so much as the first few sentences of a rant, Xion gave Roxas a thumbs-up. Roxas shook his head.

“He likes you more because he made you,” he accused her the next day. Xion shrugged this off.

“Maybe. But I think he likes it when you say nice things about him.”

“I’ll leave that to you.” Roxas took a huge bite of ice cream, then winced and groaned. “Ugh, brain freeze…” After swallowing, he made a face at his ice cream, as if it had done that on purpose. “What causes that, anyway? It doesn’t happen with other food.”

“I don’t know,” Xion said, studying her own half-eaten bar. “But, we can always ask.”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Roxas’s back disappeared from sight into the dark portal as Xion stopped just shy of it, looking up at Saïx. Everyone else had already left the Grey Area.

“Um. I’m going to the meeting…”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

Xion looked between the swirling portal of darkness and Saïx’s deepening scowl, bewildered.

“Xemnas summoned us, so…shouldn’t everyone be there?”

“Everyone who matters.” Saïx frowned, as if he couldn’t decide whether she were mocking him with her reply. “Don’t pretend to be one of us. It isn’t amusing.”

“I’m not pretending…”

A flash of distaste marred his neutral expression—fleetingly brief, but Xion still noticed it, and reflexively took a step backwards. Saïx’s eyes narrowed.

“If that’s what you think, then you’re defective. You should know full well your initiation ceremony was just for show. You’re no more than a toy.”

Xion peered around him at the darkness. Saïx was always this ill-tempered, but even the darkness suddenly seemed warm and inviting compared to him.

“If I can’t go to the meeting, then what am I supposed to do today?”

Saïx flipped through his clipboard.

“As a matter of fact, I have a special mission for you. You’ve heard about the imposter who’s been spotted wearing our coat?”

Xion nodded.

“Annihilate him.”

He flipped back to the first page on his clipboard and turned away, making for the portal. Xion hesitated, taken aback.

“This imposter…You really want me to…”

“That is your mission.” Saïx spared her another sharp look over his shoulder. “And I don’t want to deal with you again until he’s been brought to heel. Is that clear?”

Xion nodded, not knowing what to say as Saïx turned away. She was left with a sinking feeling in her stomach as he disappeared into the dark portal, which closed behind him, leaving her alone in the Grey Area. Its sudden and unusual emptiness seemed to mock her, knowing that everyone had gone to a meeting to which she was not permitted.

Not permitted…It was an uncomfortable realization. She moved to the Grey Area’s wall of windows, pressing a palm to the glass and gazing up at the familiar light of Kingdom Hearts.

Not really a member of the Organization…Well, technically she’d known that for a while now, but it had never felt true. She was given the same workload and held to the same standard as everyone else. Saïx’s attitude was not new, either—he was curt and cold with everyone, and had always been doubly so to her—yet somehow this show of disdain ate a hole in her stomach the way none of his previous ones had. Saïx was one thing, but not being permitted to attend an official meeting in the Round Room, called by Xemnas himself, went beyond Saïx. It was a declaration of her inferiority to everyone in the Organization. She wasn’t a member—not really.

A toy. Was that why Saïx never even bothered to look her in the eye?

“Has Xion been by today?”

“Hm?” Vexen did not look up from his work. “No. I haven’t seen her lately.”

“She hasn’t been coming by the clock tower these past few days either.” Roxas, sitting on a stool across from Vexen, leaned down and rested his chin on the edge of the lab table. It didn’t take much effort, as the table was raised too high for him to comfortably put his elbows on. “She seems really focused. I think Saïx gave her a special mission.”

“I seem to recall hearing something to that effect. I’m not aware of the details.” Vexen licked his thumb and turned several pages in a book, sparing his half-eaten ice cream another bite. “Doubtless she’ll return to her routine when whatever she’s been tasked with is complete.”

Roxas sighed as Vexen annotated the day’s logbook with numbers and symbols that meant nothing to him. He’d been hoping Vexen knew what Xion’s mission had been, since Saïx had refused to tell him that morning, saying only that it was no concern of his. Probably, Roxas reasoned, she was after some stealthy species of Heartless that was proving unusually hard to track down.

“Well, I hope she finishes soon,” he said aloud, and sighed again. “It’s pretty boring having ice cream without her.”

“If you’re so interested in her whereabouts, you could always go find her in her room.”

“I don’t want to bug her when she’s trying to sleep—especially if she’s working extra hard.” Roxas settled himself onto the stool, watching Vexen’s long hair sway back and forth in front of his eyes as he wrote. He looked so focused on whatever he was doing that Roxas couldn’t help but speak up. “So, uh…What are you working on today?”

“Nothing you’d be able to wrap your mind around.”

“You always say that.” Roxas sat up straighter. “Give me a break. I’m not a zombie anymore.”

“Hmph.” Vexen stopped writing long enough to raise an eyebrow at him. “This experiment rests on years of foundational theory regarding the mechanics of the heart. If you’re assuming you could grasp it at a glance…”

“I never said that.” Roxas tilted his head, trying to read Vexen’s already-illegible handwriting upside down. “But you’re always complaining that me and Xion don’t understand this kind of stuff. We’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”

“Perhaps. But my caliber of research wouldn’t be the place.” Vexen tapped the tip of his pen onto the top of the logbook as he thought, making a little constellation of ink dots, then pointed the pen at Roxas. He didn’t seem to notice that the ice cream in his other hand had begun to drip onto the table. “You’d need a solid grounding in theory before you could even comprehend what it is I’m testing here. I’ve been studying the workings of the heart since long before you were a shadow of a thought.”

“Are hearts really that complicated?”

“Certainly, yes. An endlessly fascinating field of research.”

Vexen resumed double-checking his calculations. The thought of hearts made Roxas instinctively look for Kingdom Hearts shining through the nearest window, but the lab was completely windowless, and Roxas had to make do with the vague memory of how it had looked as Saïx gave him his assignment that morning. He’d noticed lately that it seemed to have gotten bigger since the time Xemnas had lectured them about it, but Roxas didn’t know what that meant. He’d been collecting all the hearts he could, but how many would they need? And how would they even know when it was finished? Still…

“Well, I bet I could understand some of it, at least,” Roxas said. “If you actually bothered to explain it to me.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Vexen finally noticed his ice cream was dripping, and froze it solid again with a glare. “You’re confident today. Do you really think you have what it takes to be a scientist?”

“Be a scientist?” The thought was ludicrous, and Roxas shook his head. “I didn’t mean that. I was just curious what you were working on, that’s all.” He shrugged. “And don’t you have to be…I dunno, special or something? To be a scientist?”

Vexen took another bite of ice cream, regarding Roxas with one of his strange smiles. Roxas grimaced in response and prodded Vexen’s logbook, moving it half an inch.

“What’s that look for?”

Vexen did not answer right away, instead taking the time to finish the last few bites of his ice cream. When he spoke again, it was, unusually, without any impatience in his tone.

“Well. I can’t say I’d have time to teach you properly—obviously my research comes first. But I do commend your instinct for self-improvement, Roxas. We could certainly use more of that attitude in this Organization.” He tapped the tabletop just beside the book with his ice cream stick. “If you must know what I’m doing: tonight I’m compiling the raw data from a series of experiments a few months ago. I performed an identical one recently, and I need to corroborate the results if I’m going to continue down this line of inquiry.”

“Why do the same experiment twice?” Roxas asked. Vexen looked at him sharply.

“Don’t be obtuse. Surely you can reason that out yourself?”

Roxas accepted this challenge, frowning hard at the mess of numbers, though they didn’t rearrange themselves into anything more legible.

“Well…I guess you have to make sure you got it right the first time,” he said at last, scratching his ear with one finger. “I mean…Maybe you did the experiment wrong or something, but you wouldn’t ever know unless you tried it again. It’s like missing a clue out on recon…you’ll never realize it if you only go over an area one time. You have to double-check everything to make sure you’ve got the whole picture.”

“Very good.” Vexen sounded pleased. “If an experiment can’t be replicated, then whatever conclusions you drew from its results are suspect.”

“Makes sense.”

Vexen tapped the page with one finger, drawing Roxas’s attention to a row of numbers that meant nothing to him.

“As rewarding as breakthroughs are, they’re generally founded on drudgery. Fringe cases aside, one doesn’t pull new discoveries out of thin air. And sometimes the only solution is to abandon your current line of inquiry and start fresh.”

“You mentioned that before,” Roxas said, remembering. “Sometimes you have to use…whatever it was called. That thing where when you get stuck, you change gears and ask a different question.”

“Lateral thinking,” Vexen reminded him. “Something you’re practicing frequently, I hope.”

“Does it really come in that handy?”

“Oh yes.” Vexen raised an eyebrow. “I’ll quote you this, boy: ‘solutions often arise from a subtle reformulation of the question, not from the diligent collection of new information in an old framework.’ Learning to analyze what you see is just as important as knowing how to gather data in the first place.”

“Yeah, I know.” He’d heard that a hundred times already. Roxas sat up on his knees so that he could rest his elbows on the tabletop, tilting his head as he peered at Vexen’s notes. “Science seems hard. It’s not just thinking. It’s thinking about thinking. How do you not have a headache all the time?”

Vexen laughed. The already-strange sound reverberated even more strangely in the lab, filled as it was with only glass and metal.

“Well. Genius does have some advantages.” Vexen pointed at Roxas with his pen. “And if you’ve any interest in applying yourself scientifically, you ought to pay closer attention when you’re in here. You might learn a thing or two by osmosis.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

A pause.

“Hang on—what’s ‘osmosis’?”

Research Entry 449

Disappointing as the last batch of tests was, a setback of this magnitude provides useful data. I can only note my findings here and press on to the next most likely hypothesis. But work proceeds slowly.

In contrast, Xion and Roxas have both shown improvement in their cognitive abilities of late. It seems my superior intellect is finally having some influence. It may be worthwhile to do a more rigorous comparison between them when I have more time.

Trivial though their questions may be, there is some satisfaction in teaching them how to find the answers. I had forgotten what it is like to hone a curious mind.

“I don’t know who you’re supposed to be, but you can’t fight fire with sparks. This Keyblade—it’s a sham. Worthless.”

Her Keyblade rattled hollowly when the blindfolded boy tossed it aside. It impaled itself into the flagstones, the swinging keychain glinting in the moonlight. Xion’s pulse raced, the ground hard beneath her palms as she struggled to keep herself from collapsing. His blows had been too quick to dodge and too strong to ignore. Even now she was shaking with the effort of staying on her hands and knees.

“My Keyblade is not a sham! What gives you the right to say that? Just because I’m a Rep—”

She cut herself off, gritting her teeth. Not that it would mean anything to him.

He had been walking away, but stopped at the sound of her voice, and stood backlit by the rising moon beside one of the gargoyles flanking the causeway. Xion concentrated all her strength. Her fingers found the handle of the Keyblade, and with a furious burst of energy she hurled herself forward, crying out—

She barely saw him dodge in a whirling burst of black, as if the darkness of the night had come alive and surged out of the way. His retaliating blow came from nowhere, a strike in the back of the neck that knocked her to the ground in a heap, her mind reeling. She lost consciousness—perhaps only briefly, as the imposter was still there when she regained herself. But he was leaving. Escaping.

Her whole back ached, her neck throbbing like she’d been hit with the blunt side of an axe. The imposter had already walked away, but the sound of Xion struggling made him hesitate, and he turned to watch her drag herself, with great effort, to her knees. Her side ached now, too, where his blade had grazed her, and she clutched it tightly, trying to dull the pain. The imposter studied her with an expression she couldn’t read in the light of the bitten half-moon.

She swallowed hard, tasting grit. She had enough strength to summon the darkness, but only just. If he lunged, would she be able to escape? He was so fast…

They stared at each other, Xion breathing raggedly, the imposter as still as one of the weathered gargoyles flanking them on either side of the causeway. Only the autumn wind stirring his cloak and the ends of his blindfold made him look alive. Despite darkness and distance and the blindfold, Xion knew his gaze had not wavered.

“You’re a Replica, aren’t you?”

The word startled her so badly that she found the strength to pull herself up to a sitting position, one hand clutching her injured side.

“How do you know that?”

“You aren’t the first one they’ve made. The other one didn’t last long.”

He made as if to approach her once more, but then seemed to think better of it, for he turned away and strode further across the bridge, the wind picking up as he put distance between them. It carried his voice to her clearly.

“Find a new crowd. Trust me. Those guys are bad news.”

“Why should I? You’re the real sham!”

She meant it, but her ferocity only seemed to amuse him.

“Fair enough. You could say I’m the biggest nobody of them all. But still…” He spoke over his shoulder. “They’re just using you. Get out while you can.”

“I belong in the Organization!”

“Is that what they programmed you to think?”

He continued walking away as the pain in Xion’s side flared. Though her coat was undamaged, the boy’s strange sword seemed to have cut her skin through it, and the heat of it stung in the wind. Xion tried to find her feet and couldn’t, buckling again to her knees.

Programmed?

“I’m not a sham!” she yelled at his back. “And I’ll get stronger! The next time we fight, I’ll…I’ll beat you!”

“Sorry. Not gonna happen.”

He tightened his blindfold and stepped up onto the edge of the parapet. He did not look back at her, and the wind carried her his parting words.

“Whoever you are, you’re a good Replica. But a copy won’t ever beat the real thing.”

The imposter leaped off of the edge of the bridge, vanishing into a whorl of darkness that rent the night air like a bruise. No one was left to hear Xion’s anguished cry.

Chapter Text

Day 149: WINNER

Today's mission took me to a new world. It was a weird place. Afterwards I waited for Xion on the clock tower for the longest time, but she never showed. It’s like she’s avoiding me.

I was gonna give her my WINNER stick, but now I think I should wait until I get a couple more. It wouldn't be fair to leave Vexen out. He really likes ice cream too.

“Girls are complicated, huh?” 

“A logical fallacy.” Vexen nudged an empty beaker out of his way with one elbow, his hands full of other equipment that he began arranging in the counter space he’d freed up. “In all my years of study, I’ve never observed any correlation between a heart’s composition and its owner’s gender.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Xion’s no more complicated than yourself, boy.” The high tink of fragile glassware echoed in the lab. “Either her troubles are unrelated to you entirely, or you’ve done something to upset her.”

“But I don’t know what I did…”

“Well, think on it. Surely you’re not so obtuse as to have no clue whatsoever?”

Roxas stifled his own frustrated reply, knowing that arguing with Vexen without any evidence to support himself was an exercise in futility. Instead he cast about for a logical argument to back up his point, and to his own surprise, found one.

“Xion has a heart though, right? You gave her one.”

“An artificial one, yes.”

“Well, then she is more complicated than me. I don’t have any kind of heart.”

“Really? I wonder.”

Roxas gave him a quizzical look, but for once Vexen did not explain himself. Roxas sighed and scratched the side of his head, messing his already spiky hair.

“Now you’re not making any sense either.”

“Never you mind about me. I have a theory, nothing more. But as for Xion…” He set down what he was working on and cleared a free space next to it, moving a bundle of papers to the top of a larger stack, so that there was more room to set up equipment. “I’ll concede that as a Replica, she may in some respects exceed your own capacities. She displays an array of decidedly emotional behavior.”

“So even you think she’s complicated.”

Vexen chuckled.

“I suppose so, yes. But not because she’s female.”

Roxas sighed, moodily poking at a piece of glassware.

“I just wish she wouldn’t avoid me, that’s all.” A thought struck him, and he looked up. “Vexen, will you go talk to her?”

“And why should I do that?”

“You made her, right? So if she’s not okay, then you’ll know what to do about it. Like how you fixed her that time she got hurt.”

“You’re over-generalizing,” Vexen sniffed. “This is an entirely different class of problem.”

“So you won’t talk to her?”

“I don’t see any pressing need for it. She was created to be self-sufficient.” He considered. “But you’re correct that her performance is my responsibility. I’ll look into it tomorrow, if I absolutely must.”

In fact he did. A condescending remark from Saïx the next morning alerted him to the severity of the situation, and in the evening he found her sitting on her bed with her knees tucked up to her chin and her arms wrapped around her shins, staring up at Kingdom Hearts in the cloudless night outside like a supplicant before a glowing altar. Lost in thought as she was, she did not notice his arrival, and he was halfway across the room before she reacted to the sound of footsteps. 

“I’ve been informed that you failed your latest mission,” he said sharply, by way of greeting.

Xion deflated yet further, scrunching herself into a tight ball and staring down at the scuffed metal floor, not able to meet Vexen’s scowl as he bent over her.

“I…Yes. I did.”

“And did it not occur to you that I might need to know about it? Hm?”

He looked ready to say more, but it seemed to strike him how uncomfortably far he was having to bend over to talk to her, and after a pause, he opted to spare his back and sit on the bed. Even still, he was a full head taller than her.

“I’ve told you countless times that your daily performance reflects on me. If you’ve done something asinine…” He frowned at her. “What type of Heartless was it this time? What classification?”

“It wasn’t a Heartless.” Xion shrank under Vexen’s scowl as she remembered the imposter’s blindfolded face. She’d given it her all, yet he’d barely broken a sweat when they’d clashed. “The imposter…The one who’s going around wearing our coat. I’m supposed to get rid of him.”

“The imp—” Vexen’s sour expression changed at once to alarm. “Are you joking? Saïx assigned you to annihilate Riku, all on your own?”

The fact that Vexen knew the mysterious boy’s name surprised her, but she realized it shouldn’t. After all, he knew everything.

“I—Yes. He said if I don’t get rid of the imposter, then I’ll be—”

“Preposterous.” A muscle tightened in Vexen’s jaw as he ground his teeth. “Absolutely preposterous. He knows full well what happened at Castle Oblivion—my report was very thorough. Assigning you to eliminate Riku, without any contingency plan, without any sort of backup…Of course he so conveniently failed to mention that was your mission…”

Xion had clearly not expected such a reaction, for she blinked.

“We’re all supposed to be on the lookout for him, aren’t we? And if I can’t get rid of him…”

“You won’t stand a chance.” Vexen made a dismissive gesture. “Riku is powerful—fascinatingly so. Even the Replica of him that I made couldn’t measure up. He’s felled more than one member of the Organization already.”

“He was the one that you…” So that was how he’d recognized what she was. “Then what do I do? Can you make me stronger? Strong enough to beat him?”

“No. If I could do anything to increase what raw power you possess, I would have done so at the outset.”

“Then…”

Xion swallowed, her mouth dry at the implication. Vexen, however, only made a noise of irritation.

“I will speak with Saïx,” he said briskly. “Either he’s optimistic enough to think you’re capable of defeating Riku on your own, or—more likely—he’s hoping Riku will destroy you and put an end to his concerns. Neither situation is acceptable. Throwing you away on a suicide mission would be a tremendous waste of resources.”

As he said this, Xion’s expression softened. Her fear lessened visibly, and she relaxed a little, uncurling from where she’d tucked herself into a tight ball.

“Wait. You...think that I shouldn’t have gotten this mission?”

“Of course not. It’s profoundly ill-considered.” He glared at her as if she’d stupidly volunteered for the job, pointing a finger under her nose. “Under no circumstances are you to seek one-on-one combat with Riku, do you understand me?”

“But if I don’t, Saïx said that—”

“Saïx may be the Superior’s lapdog, but the Replica Program is my area of concern. He can be bothered by you all he likes, but aside from one brief malfunction, your performance so far has been excellent. He has no grounds to give you such a catastrophic assignment.” To himself, he muttered, “Is the man daft? Did he not read any of my analyses of Riku’s capabilities? I had fifteen pages of data after testing the other Replica…”

“So…you’ll ask Saïx to revoke my orders?”

Her question brought him out of his muttering and back to the present.

“Revoke? Yes, at once.”

“But what if he won’t?”

“Then I’ll appeal directly to Lord Xemnas.” Off of her surprised look, he continued, “It’s unwise to seek the Superior’s audience unless it’s a matter of vital importance. But throwing away our only working Replica on an impossible task certainly qualifies.”

“You’d really do that for me?”

He gave her an odd, probing look, squinting with one eye.

“I don’t know what you mean by for you. It’s only common sense.” He sized her up, frowning. “Lord Xemnas wants Kingdom Hearts completed without delay. I’m confident he won’t approve of Saïx halving our number of Keyblade wielders.”

“I don’t know why Saïx doesn’t like me.” Xion looked up at Kingdom Hearts, its soft blue light reflecting in her eyes. “It’s like he hates me just for being a Replica. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Vexen snorted.

“You did nothing, believe me. You’re correct that he’s never been keen on the Program, even from its earliest stages. He’d be skeptical of you even if you behaved exactly as intended.”

Xion sighed.

“I still feel like a failure, though. I should have been able to beat the impost—I mean, Riku.”

“A failure? Be logical, girl. Riku’s power aside, one failed mission out of dozens is insufficient data to draw such a conclusion.”

“Easy for you to say. I bet you’ve never failed a mission.”

Vexen caught his own haughty reply before it left him. Silence from him was strange, and Xion picked up on it, instinctively edging closer as she always did in the lab when he seemed about to say something interesting, so that she soon sat right beside him at the foot of the bed, looking up at him, waiting. The glow of Kingdom Hearts came through the large square window in front of them as an angled column of bluish-white light that did not reach any of the room’s corners. It was almost like a spotlight.

“A flattering assumption, I admit,” Vexen said at last, “but I’m afraid you’d lose that bet.”

“Really? You failed one of your missions once?”

“More than once, I hate to say.”

“But how? You’re so…I mean, you always know what to do.”

Vexen laughed. As always, the sound was strange, but for once there was no malice in it.

“Maybe so, but that alone doesn’t suffice. When the Organization was first founded, I had to learn how to defend myself. Combat had never been a part of my prior existence. The others had all trained in it, save Zexion, but he was young and had a talent for magic—he learned quickly and well. I, however…” He grimaced, his large green eyes reflecting the light of Kingdom Hearts pouring through the window. “Well. I’ve no scars to prove it, but I made many mistakes in the beginning. Some of them dire.”

He reached forward and summoned his shield onto his left arm in a flurry of snowflakes, the sudden burst of cold air giving Xion goosebumps. She scooted closer until she was right beside him, watching her own reflection warp across the different facets of the shield’s angular surface. Vexen, however, seemed to have summoned it for his own contemplation and not hers, for he dismissed it again without comment after only a few moments. Still, the glimpse of it had been long enough for Xion to see it, for the first time, for what it actually was: a weapon created for someone who had never needed a weapon in their life.

“It’s hard to imagine,” Xion admitted. “Was Saïx mad at you too back then? For messing up?”

“Saïx wasn’t with us at the start. It was a different time.” He did not look at her. “To be frank, I don’t remember those days as well as I should. Whether it’s simply the passing of time, or something particular to being a Nobody…Perhaps memories are stored less faithfully without a heart to help encode them…”

This idea sent him off onto a new train of thought, and he sunk into silence, his green eyes darting a few times, as if reading something invisible. Xion shifted, and when it became clear he wouldn’t snap out of it on his own, she gave his coat sleeve a tug, making him look to her.

“I’ll speak to Saïx,” he said again, as if there had been no interruption. “He’s under orders to treat you the same as any other member of the Organization, and yet he never would have given such a task to anyone else. Clearly he considers you disposable.”

“Aren’t I, though?” Xion ventured. “Um, I mean…wasn’t that the point of making me? To have a backup of Roxas?”

“You’ve answered your own question. A backup is precisely the opposite of disposable. Throwing a backup away for no reason defeats the purpose of keeping one.”

Xion considered this, her blue eyes filled with the eerie light of Kingdom Hearts, high and small in the night sky outside. Its distorted heart shape was tiny inside her irises, like an inner spark of light shining through instead of something reflected from without.

“So if I’m a backup, then…Am I really programmed?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Programmed. The way he’d said it so casually had cut. “Am I the way I am because you made me this way? My personality, all the things I like…”

“Where do you come up with these ridiculous notions?” Annoyance returned to Vexen’s tone, if perhaps less pronounced than usual. “Think, girl. At least pretend to have a grasp of basic reasoning. Surely being capable of questioning your own free will proves you have at least the semblance of it?”

“Then what was I supposed to be? If I wasn’t supposed to be…me.”

“You were designed as a puppet, and nothing more. An entity that could duplicate Roxas’s command of the Keyblade to help us gather more hearts. Quite the opposite of attempting to ‘program’ you with some specific personality.” Vexen frowned. “I’ve told you all of this before. Why are you asking again?”

“I…don’t have a reason.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. What’s happened?”

Xion squirmed under his disapproving look.

“It was Riku,” she admitted. “When I fought him, he said that I was a—a sham. That I’ll never be strong as the real thing, because I’m only a copy. And then, when I reported back, Saïx told me that I’d used up my last chance, because I’m a mistake that the Organization never should have made. So...so that means…”

Vexen looked at though he’d been slapped. His jaw clenched, and the furious muttering to himself that ensued was louder and more fierce than usual, suddenly heedless of Xion entirely.

“…nerve of him. A mistake! And I suppose all that groundbreaking research I put into the project was a mistake? I suppose he could have done a better job executing the Superior’s vision? The next time I see that pompous ingrate…”

Xion hiccuped, and Vexen finally noticed that she had started silently crying. He looked surprised—and a bit alarmed, as well, as if something in the room had caught fire. She sobbed and turned her face as the first tears fell, daubing them on the edge of her sleeve, forcing her next sob back down her throat. Her shoulders trembled.

Vexen scowled, raised an eyebrow, and scowled harder, none of which made Xion stop crying. Another small sob escaped her. Grimacing, Vexen reached out and awkwardly touched the top of her head with extreme caution. She flinched.

“Pull yourself together, girl. Enough of this nonsense.” He tilted her chin up, frowning, and brushed at her tears with his thumb, smearing them across her cheek. She hiccuped when he let go of her. “What in the worlds has gotten into you this evening?”

“I’m s-sorry.” Xion swallowed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know I’m being stupid. I just…” She swallowed again, harder. “Everything that Riku s-said to me, and Saïx…I’m not sure what I should do…”

“Aren’t you? I’ll tell you, then.” Vexen bent down a little, meeting her eye. “There’s only one thing to do: hold your head up and keep working. Some people will never show you the respect you deserve. Demand it, but don’t doubt yourself if it doesn’t come. You can’t hold yourself accountable to every idiot who crosses your path.”

Xion sniffled and wiped at her tears, though another few fell after she did. Vexen muttered something to himself, then jolted when Xion rested her head against his ribs, leaning some of her small weight against him. He made an irritated noise, but did not move.

“Contain yourself,” he grumbled. “And here I’d thought you were more stable than the other one…”

She shivered, wracked by another hiccup. Vexen seemed to not know what to do, and thus opted to do nothing, simply letting Xion rest against him as her shuddering subsided.

“A ‘mistake’ indeed,” he complained, when she gave one last sob. “On the contrary, you are a scientific achievement more stupendous than anything Saïx could have ever conceived. Where he found the audacity to call you anything less is beyond even me.” He looked down at her. “I suppose he didn’t mention that the Replica Program wasn’t subject to his opinion? The Superior himself ordered me to make you, you know.”

Xion’s sudden spate of crying had mostly passed, but she had to work to force down the lump in her throat that threatened to make her voice high and harsh. She stayed pressed against Vexen’s side, as if she were too tired to sit up on her own, and after a bit she took a steadying breath and looked up at him.

“Vexen, was it—hard? Making me?”

“Hard?” Vexen snorted. “Indescribably. In fact if I hadn’t been under orders, I might have given the whole project up. I was still tempted more than once.”

“Because…it was so hard?”

“Yes. Every time I solved one problem, ten more cropped up in the next phase of testing. And even when all of the results looked correct on paper, very often the mechanism didn’t work in reality. I lost many, many templates before you and the other one managed to stay alive and stable, and even then, there were difficulties right through to the end. Frankly you’re quite fortunate to exist at all.”

“And why did I get picked to use the Keyblade? Instead of…the other one.”

“Because Lord Xemnas chose you. I completed you after the other one, so I already had experience with putting on the finishing touches, as it were. You were thus the finer specimen.” Vexen considered her. “Though you would have been my first choice as well. Unlike the other one, you actually behaved yourself.”

Xion sighed against him, so much shorter that the top of her head only just grazed his shoulder as they sat side-by-side on the edge of the bed. Vexen tolerated it, unmoving, looking not at her but up at the nascent Kingdom Hearts in the eternal night outside. The light of it seemed to have physical substance, filling the empty room with a milky glow that pulsed ever so gently and slowly, like a sleeping heartbeat.

“So I’m really...not a sham?” Xion asked quietly. “I’m not just a...a big mistake?”

“Hardly, girl.”

“Then…what am I, Vexen? Truly?”

“What are you? Hmph. A simple question.” He put a hand on her head, stroking her hair once, like a cat. “You are mine.”

 “Roxas, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run off like that yesterday.” 

“Whatever, it didn’t bother me,” Roxas lied.

He hadn’t been looking for her—in fact he’d had no idea they’d both been assigned to Twilight Town today. But even from a distance, the hooded uniform was unmistakeable, and when he caught up with her she did not avoid him as he’d feared she might. He still wasn’t sure how to read all the nuances of human expression, but Xion seemed to be in a better mood today, and even smiled as they talked on the outskirts of the sandlot, empty except for a few neighborhood kids kicking a ball around on the other side of the plaza.

“I was upset,” Xion admitted. “I messed up a mission really bad. I don't suppose you heard about the guy pretending to be one of us? The Organization imposter? I was ordered to take him out...but I couldn't beat him. Saïx was so mad, he called me a ‘mistake.’”

“Oh…Gosh, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. That jerk can say whatever he wants. I can take it.” She shrugged. “And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Vexen said Saïx should never have given me that mission in the first place. He was just trying to get rid of me.”

“Really? Man…” Roxas had been on the receiving end of Saïx’s ire enough times himself to appreciate the gravity of this. “So what are you gonna do? Do you still have to try and find the imposter guy?”

“No, it’s okay now. Vexen made Saïx take those orders back. He said Riku’s too strong for any of us to beat all on our own.” She looked away, watching the kids play on the other side of the sandlot. “I still wish I hadn’t messed up, though. Now Saïx will have it out for me even more.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Roxas sized her up. She still looked glum, and he wished he could think of something to say that would make her smile instead. Unfortunately he wasn’t the best at coming up with quick jokes. Instead an idea struck him.

“Hey, Xion…Why don’t we work together today?”

“Huh? How?”

“Let’s double up on our missions,” Roxas said. “If we team up, we should be able to cut through the work faster.”

“Well…okay. Maybe we’ll finish early and have more time for ice cream.”

“I’ll buy today,” he offered. “My treat. Sounds like you need it.”

He kept a close eye on her as they scoured Twilight Town’s alleys and underground for Heartless for the next few hours. To his relief, she really did seem okay. She teased him almost as readily as any evening on the clock tower, and when they found a particularly large swarm of Heartless inside one of the underground tunnels, the two of them fought side-by-side with such fluid ease that they made a game of it. They called out their tally each time they destroyed one, and the bright sparks of liberated hearts lit up the dark tunnels with each swing of their Keyblades, as though they were setting off firecrackers. The last Soldier exploded into tendrils of darkness when Xion’s thrown Keyblade knocked its helmet clean off.

“Still in the lead!” Xion announced, poking him. “I’ve got ten more than you.”

“Not for long. C’mon, there’s gotta be more around here somewhere…”

The forest outside of town contained no Heartless (only frightened squirrels), but approaching the mansion on its outskirts rewarded them with a mob of colorful elemental Heartless, packed so densely and attacking so fiercely that Xion and Roxas fought back-to-back, twin Keyblades flashing orange in the perpetual twilight. Only when Roxas impaled the last Blue Rhapsody against the brick wall ringing the mansion did they realize that they’d forgotten their competition count entirely.

“Guess it’s a tie,” Roxas panted. Xion grinned and wiped her sweaty brow, dismissing her Keyblade. “We’ll settle it next time.”

“You just don’t wanna admit you lost.”

“Oh yeah?”

Grinning, tired but pleased, Roxas dismissed the Keyblade and looked up at the mansion, scanning for stray Heartless that might have somehow avoided their enthusiastic culling. If he could just get one more…

A slim blonde girl, pale, her white dress blending with the moth-eaten lace curtains—

She was gone when he blinked.

Roxas started, but Xion did not notice, still catching her breath from their skirmish. He stared hard at the window, but there was no face there, only curtains that stirred so faintly he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining it.

“Hey, Xion? Did you see, a second ago…”

“See what, Roxas?”

He looked at the window again. The curtains hung completely still.

“Never mind,” he said hesitantly. “I thought I saw someone in there, but…This place is abandoned, right?”

“I think so.” Xion stood beside him, following his line of sight up to the corner window. “Do you want to go investigate? We still have time.”

Roxas stared hard at the window, trying to see in the curtains the silhouette he had so strongly imagined only moments ago. It really had looked like…who? Like Xion? But that didn’t make any sense. She was right here beside him.

“No,” he said at last. “It was probably nothing. And we shouldn’t draw more attention to ourselves. If somebody is in there, they probably saw our whole fight just now.”

Xion stood on tiptoe and peered through the gate, trying to see whatever Roxas had seen in the furthest upstairs window, but there was nothing. Roxas leaned forward. The moment he brushed against the gate, dizziness shook him. He reeled, staggering sideways, a voice echoing through the edge of his mind.

You seek answers. I can give you purpose.

“Roxas? Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah.” He steadied himself, clutching the iron bars of the fence. The dizziness had already lifted as suddenly as it had come, but he felt clammy with the shock of it. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Xion watched him with concern. “We’ve been fighting pretty hard today. Do you want to RTC instead of getting ice cream?”

“No way.” He let go of the fence, shaking his head, forcing himself to stabilize. That voice had been—Xemnas? Or… “It’s fine. I just had this weird feeling all of a sudden.”

“This place is sort of creepy, isn’t it?” Xion took a step backward, assessing the whole of the dilapidated mansion through the ivy-tangled ironwork. It looked like something alive, almost. Alive, but asleep. “It seems like it’s been abandoned for a long time. What do you think is in there?”

“I dunno.” Roxas’s gaze stayed focused on the far window. “Probably nothing important.”

By the time they settled onto the clock tower, Roxas had pushed the incident out of his mind, but Xion seemed less inclined. She had looked worried even while they bought their ice cream from the shop, and on the tower she kept an obvious eye on him, as if fearful he might swoon again and fall.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Roxas?” she asked, when he called her out on her concern. “You scared me earlier.”

“Forget about it.” Roxas waved the notion away with his ice cream. “That just happens sometimes. I get these…I dunno. Flashes, or something. They’re not dangerous, just weird. I’ve never passed out or anything.”

“Flashes?”

Roxas regretted having said anything, as Xion looked suddenly alarmed. He avoided her eye, instead gazing out over Twilight Town. The interplay of sunset and shadow looked different today, as they were perched on the clock tower several hours earlier than usual. The flow of station traffic below them was different, too; there were fewer young people, presumably because school had not let out yet.

“Roxas, I think you should tell Vexen about this.”

The suggestion caught Roxas off-guard. He had been watching a young couple stroll arm-in-arm down the walkway towards town, but now looked over at Xion.

“Why? It’s not like he’d know anything about it.”

“He might, though,” Xion insisted. “And even if he doesn’t know already, he’s good at figuring things out.”

“You think he’ll care? It’s not exactly important.”

“Well, I didn’t expect him to help me with Saïx yesterday, but he did. Maybe he can help you too.”

Roxas didn’t look convinced.

“Give it a try,” Xion pressed. “Just go to talk to him about it. The worst that can happen is that he says you’re right and it’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious? So you think something’s wrong with me?”

“No,” Xion said quickly. “I mean—I don’t know. But earlier, you looked really off…it scared me. I don’t want you to ignore this if it could be something bad.”

Roxas rubbed his head, avoiding her eye. The couple he had been watching had gone, but a new tram had arrived from the town square, spilling a handful of people onto the plaza in front of the station. Roxas searched them with his eyes, as if somehow, one among them might be the mysterious boy in red.

“If you say so,” he said at last.

Thankfully, Xion took this at face value and dropped the subject. Their conversation soon wandered so far onto other things that neither paid any attention to the residents of Twilight Town coming and going through the station plaza far below, their voices audible only as a mingled murmur. As Roxas and Xion talked, a trio of kids their age chased each other far below them—laughing, unnoticed.

 He didn’t ask the next day, and might never have worked up the nerve to ask at all had Xion not badgered him about it the day after. When they delivered Vexen’s ice cream she made an excuse to leave early, giving him an encouraging signal before she disappeared down the corridor, the lab door hissing as it sealed itself behind her. 

Feeling rather like he’d been tasked with feeding something ill-tempered that lived in a cage, Roxas steeled himself and tried to work out how to broach the subject. Luckily he had unlimited time to do this, as Vexen was talking about something or the other, enjoying the sound of his own voice. In the several minutes it took Roxas to work up the will to speak, Vexen either did not notice or did not care that his audience, such as it was, was clearly thinking other thoughts. Roxas waited for a lull in Vexen’s prattling to finally speak up.

“Hey Vexen, I’ve got a…sort of a weird question.”

“Well, I’m no stranger to your odd questions at this point. What are you curious about?”

Roxas didn’t answer at once, and was still sorting out where to begin when he noticed Vexen watching him impatiently, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been having these weird thoughts lately,” Roxas admitted. “Well…They’re not really thoughts. More like dreams. But I have them when I’m awake sometimes, too. It used to not happen that much, but lately it’s getting worse. I don’t know what it means.”

“Dreams?” Vexen asked. “What do you mean? Describe them.”

Roxas did. As he talked, Vexen slowly stopped what he was doing, which Roxas took as a heartening sign that his concerns were more interesting to Vexen than he’d assumed they’d be.

“It’s like they’re memories, almost,” Roxas finished, “except they can’t be, because they’re not about me. But then…why do I keep seeing them?”

“It is a very intriguing phenomenon. Perhaps even unique. This has been occurring since Castle Oblivion, you said?”

“Yeah. Ever since I woke up. And it’s been happening more and more lately out on missions.”

“Fascinating…”

“You think so?”

“Oh yes.” Vexen studied Roxas with a hand on his chin, tapping the side of his cheek. “An unusual circumstance indeed…Tell me, have you been sensible enough to collect consistent data?”

“What do you mean?”

“These episodes of yours, these dreams—do you make note of them when they occur? Have you kept a log?”

“Um…Not really. I write down what happened on some days in my journal. But not every day.”

Vexen snorted.

“Hmph. I don’t know why you and Xion come bother me so often if you’re determined to learn nothing from my example. Questions can’t be answered without data, hasn’t that gotten through your skull yet?”

“So what do you want me to do?” Roxas argued. “Just—write down what I dream about every night?”

“Exactly that, actually. These episodes of yours may have an origin worth investigating, but I can’t offer an informed opinion without knowing more. What you ought to do is keep a daily log of any instance of these…visions, as you call them, and note the circumstances. Where you were, what you experienced. And if you have related dreams, note those as well. When you’ve a few weeks’ worth of observations, bring your data to me.”

“You think you can figure out what’s causing it?”

“Perhaps…and perhaps not. But either way, the first step in the attempt is to gather information.” He regarded Roxas keenly, a strange smile playing on his thin lips. “I assume that’s not too arduous a task?”

“I guess not.” It sounded easy enough, if a bit inconvenient. Roxas watched Vexen rummage through a pile of variously-sized notebooks, but was surprised when he dug up a small one and pushed it towards Roxas across the table. “Wait, is this for me?”

“Yes. Consider it your logbook for this experiment.”

“Er, thanks.” Roxas picked it up, flipping through it, though of course the pages were blank. “So…I should bring it back when it’s full?”

“Or whenever you’ve sufficient data, whichever happens first.”

“How do I know how much data is ‘sufficient’?”

“That depends on the frequency of your episodes. Record at least a dozen—that should be enough to start drawing some conclusions. But the more you have to analyze, the better.”

Roxas flipped through the notebook again, then pocketed it. He expected Vexen to say something more, but Vexen only chuckled to himself and turned his attention back to his work, still smiling in that vaguely unpleasant way he often did when he was thinking.

“If that’s all, boy, you can be on your way,” came his voice. Vexen didn’t bother to look over his shoulder. “I’ll be interested to see what caliber of data you can bring me. Your predicament is most intriguing…”

Research Entry 456 

Roxas is experiencing moments of resonance with Sora’s memories. I’ve directed him to keep a record of these events in order to identify a pattern, if one exists.

I have a few hypotheses about what might be happening, but Roxas’s situation is unique, so I cannot know anything for certain until he brings me sufficient data. No matter the outcome, it is a fascinating case study. Many potential experiments suggest themselves.

If the boy knew outright about his other half, I’d be able to gather information much more easily. But the Superior’s orders were clear.

“It’s not much of an experiment,” Roxas admitted. “I’m just writing stuff down, that’s all.” 

He hadn’t wanted to tell her, and even now regretted it; her unexpected interest was unnerving. Xion craned her neck to peer at the unassuming little notebook in his lap, her ice cream dripping onto the warm stone of the clock tower.

“What did Vexen say it was all about?” she asked. “Did he know?”

Roxas crammed the notebook into his coat pocket. It wouldn’t quite fit.

“He didn’t. He just asked me to keep a log or whatever.” He shrugged. “You know how he is.”

To his relief, Xion did not resist his attempt to change the subject, and for nearly an hour they avoided talk of it completely. Only when a few stars had become visible did it come up again, and this time, it was Xion who started the conversation.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she admitted, after a bit, “I started having the strangest dreams, too.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I can never remember what they're about. I just wake up feeling like...like something is really wrong.” She frowned, resting her chin on her knees, her gaze out across the gloaming of Twilight Town growing unfocused. “I see the ocean a lot. Waves. Watching the sunset with someone on the beach…” She shook her head. “I don’t know why it happens. It’s not like they’re memories of things I did when I was awake. And I know I can’t have any memories from before I was created.”

“Just the beach, huh?” Roxas asked. “You never see any of the worlds we go to on missions?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Any people or anything?”

Xion hesitated.

“Well...no one I know. But sometimes I feel like…while I’m dreaming…someone’s there with me, by the sea.” She paused. “Actually, it feels a lot like this. Like being with you.”

“With me? Not with anyone else?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” Roxas sighed and rubbed the side of his head. “It’s dumb, I guess. But when I get my…my ‘visions,’ or whatever…I always see this one kid. I don’t know what it means, but he’s always there.” He shook his head. “Dreams are weird.”

“Roxas…The boy you see...What’s he like?”

Roxas shrugged.

“I dunno. He looks a lot like me, but not exactly the same. He’s got a Keyblade like ours, too.”

“And he’s wearing red?”

“Yeah. That kid.”

Roxas took another bite of ice cream and gazed out over Twilight Town, brooding. When the realization hit him a moment later, he nearly spat the ice cream out.

“Wait, how did you know that?”

His bed was large enough for both of them to sit on, but not large enough to accommodate all their supplies as well, and so the two of them had moved down to the floor, on their knees in a sea of mostly blank papers. Roxas’s battered notebook lay pinned open to the first page by a pile of seashells in the top corner. It contained only one entry. 

The modest scope of the project had not tempered Xion’s enthusiasm. Roxas wasn’t sure where she’d gotten all these pens and paper, or a notebook of her own, but he watched her carefully write XION’S RESEARCH LOG on the top of the first page with what seemed to him like undue gravitas.

“You really think this’ll help?” he was asking, as Xion divided the page into columns. “I mean, they’re just dreams…”

“But they mean something. We’re both having them.” The tip of her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she focused, trying to keep her lines perfectly straight. “And if they weren’t important, Vexen wouldn’t have asked you to write them down, right?”

“I guess.” He watched Xion flip to the next page of the notebook. “But it makes sense that we’re both having them. I mean, you’re a copy of me or whatever.”

“But we don’t know what they mean. Or why they’re happening.”

“You’re really into this, huh?”

Xion stopped drawing and sat up, looking determined.

“I’ve had these dreams more and more lately. I want to know what’s happening to me. To both of us. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, but…” Roxas sighed and scratched his head. “I don’t know. It’s all so weird.” He watched Xion keep writing. “And there’s no point asking Vexen about it again. He’ll just say he needs more data. Or that it’s all really complicated and we wouldn’t understand it anyway.”

“Then let’s prove him wrong.” Xion pulled Roxas’s logbook closer, studying its layout to copy it. “I’m gonna start keeping a log, too. I’ll write down any dreams I have that I can remember.”

She busied herself with the notebook, numbering the corner of each blank page. Roxas looked at his own, equal parts skeptical and intrigued. He fished among the papers for a pen and doodled with it to make sure it worked before labeling his notebook as well. As the only thing he’d ever written before was his diary—sporadically, at that—putting RESEARCH LOG at the top of the first page felt more than a little silly, and he sat back and stared at it, unsure of what else to write.

He looked over at Xion. Already she had divided the first few pages of her notebook into columns and rows. He watched her for a bit before speaking.

“Xion, how come you never told me about your dreams before?”

“How come you never told me about yours?”

Roxas looked away, guilty.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “I guess it just seemed…private. And weird. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy or something. I mean, sometimes I even thought I was going crazy, by seeing these pictures and stuff.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess it was almost…freaking me out, in a way. I mean, when stuff is happening in your head, and you don’t know if it’s real or not, or when it’s going to happen again, or—or anything—it’s kind of freaky. Honestly, I never even thought about telling you. I didn’t know how to start. Y’know?”

“I think so.” Xion gave Roxas’s knee a friendly squeeze. “That’s kind of how I felt about it, too. But it sounds like my dreams don’t happen as often as yours. And I’ve never seen anything while I’m awake.”

“They’re the same pictures, though. That’s what gets me.” Roxas sat back on his heels. “Who is this kid in red? We know why you and me are connected, but what’s the connection between us and him?”

“Vexen didn’t have a theory about it?”

“If he had one, he didn’t mention it. But…” Roxas realized something. “Maybe he does have one, and just needs proof. I bet that’s it. That’s why he wants me to write everything down, so he can see if he’s on the right track.”

Xion pulled her blank notebook closer, cradling it in her lap.

“I should definitely do it too, then. With both of us working together, we’re twice as likely to figure it out, right?”

Roxas wasn’t convinced, but Xion’s expression was so determined that he put up no more resistance than a shrug.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s give it a shot, I guess. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Xion underlined the words DAY ONE in her notebook and drew a star beside it.

“Our first experiment,” she announced, smiling.

“The heck are you talking about?” Xigbar laughed. “Nope, not a one. Don’t usually have dreams at night.” 

“But when you do,” Xion pressed, “what are they about?”

“Nothin’ you’re old enough to hear about, that’s for sure.”

He laughed again and settled back in the chair, sprawled sideways across it. Xion nodded and bit her lip, scribbling in her notebook. Her serious expression made Xigbar laugh so hard that Xaldin glared at him from across the room.

“Say, what’s gotten into you today? You trying to take over Saïx’s job? Don’t think he’ll appreciate the competition.”

“No. I’m doing research.”

She said it as confidently as she could, but it only made Xigbar laugh again, harder.

“Well, that’s a new one! Bet I know where that’s from.” His grin sharpened. “Been hangin’ out with Vexen too much lately, eh? The old man’s rubbing off on you.” He kicked at her with the toe of his boot, as if to shoo her away. “Lighten up, poppet. Go play outside.”

Xion held her ground, crossing something out in her notebook before looking up.

“One more question. Do you ever dream about the ocean?”

“Nope. Never.”

Xion studied his scarred face intently, as if trying to decide whether he was lying. She had to ignore his continued low laughter when she finally walked away, still scribbling.

It happened the moment he landed at the bottom of the rabbit hole. 

Roxas hadn’t been expecting it, and froze in surprise when the sensation overwhelmed him. The world’s outlandish surroundings would have disoriented him no matter what, but the image overlaid in his mind enhanced his sudden confusion: he stood here and someone else did, too, a figure projected in his conscious like a static-filled broadcast, colorful but granular, and silent. The boy in red had been here, it seemed. Roxas saw him standing in this exact spot, flanked by—a dog and a duck, of all things. But he’d seen them in the flashes before. The boy’s friends?

He shook it off and started walking, following the way he assumed the white rabbit had gone down the tunnel. As he walked the the boy in red flashed again through his head—also walking this hallway, also passing these same crooked picture frames. Roxas forced the sensation away until he reached a door, but in staring at it, the vision came on stronger than ever, an image in his mind of the boy in red passing through first this door and then several smaller ones nested inside it in succession.

When opening the door before him did indeed reveal a smaller door just beyond, Roxas conceded defeat. The notebook rustled like a startled bird as he pulled it out of a coat pocket, fumbling for a pen in the other.

She trotted along behind him, trying to keep up with the much taller Nobody’s broad stride. Xaldin did not lessen his pace to accommodate her, and she pushed herself to stay close as they stalked through the dark, gloomy castle, their large and small bootprints leaving an interweaving pattern in the dusty rugs. Usually they had to keep as silent as possible in case they stumbled across any of the castle’s strange servants, but today they were hunting Heartless in a wing that seemed to have been completely abandoned, and had seen no one in the hour since arriving. Xaldin was never a conversational sort, but that hadn’t stopped Xion from trying, in the interest of research. 

“So, in that case…what was your name, then? Before you were a Nobody?”

“What does it matter?”

Xion hesitated. His curt tone unsettled her.

“Oh…It doesn’t, I guess. I was just wondering…”

She and Roxas had discussed it during yesterday’s clock tower meeting, but Roxas hadn’t been certain it was a line of inquiry worth pursuing, and Xion had to convince herself that the idea, while perhaps far-fetched, had merit. She stuck closer to Xaldin as they snuck their way along the wall, keeping to the shadows between the rusted suits of armor on display.

“I’m just curious,” she said, hoping it sounded convincing. After all, it was technically true. “All of you have memories of being human, so…I’m jealous.”

“No, you aren’t,” Xaldin said at once. “Jealousy is an emotion—one we’re fortunate to be rid of.”

“Oh, yeah.” She gazed at her boots, feigning being chastised. She wasn’t jealous, no—but not because she couldn’t be. “Never mind, then. I’m sorry for asking about it.”

That seemed to be the end of that, but to Xion’s great surprise, Xaldin spoke again when they reached the end of the corridor.

“Dilan.” He sounded as if the word tasted unpleasant. “Though you could have guessed it. It’s not as if the naming scheme is complicated.” He looked down at her, his disapproving scowl reminding her of Vexen, though Xaldin’s was nowhere near as exaggerated. “How were you called, then? ‘Ino,’ I’d suppose.”

“Um, something like that.”

Xaldin gave her a sharp look, but said nothing, nor did he continue the conversation; Xion sensed he realized she was lying. Still, he wasn’t supposed to know the truth yet, so she did not correct him. She followed him at a slight distance as they passed into a moonlit atrium full of broken glass and withered plants, saying nothing, thinking hard.

Naming scheme? It wasn’t exactly what she’d been trying to learn, but it could be a clue. Of course no one in the Organization had kept their human name, she knew that already—but did this mean that there was actually a special pattern to the names they had now?

Vexen’s original name had been Even—she’d asked him once. She herself had been labelled as No. i before Xemnas had chosen her for the Keyblade. And now ‘Xaldin’ had been ‘Dilan’, which meant the pattern had to be something like…

The revelation stopped her short. Xaldin had to call at her to hurry up when he realized she’d lagged behind.

“Hey, Phil?” 

“Not today, rookie, I got a horn appointment.” He grimaced and pinched the tip of his left horn, which was visibly chipped. “You did good out there, but I ain’t got time for a play-by-play. Next time you come in I’ll double up on the coaching.”

“It’s not that. I just need you to check something for me.”

“Eh?” This made the satyr look up, frowning. “Whaddya mean?”

“I’m looking for a certain person on the ranking lists.” Roxas indicated the huge tournament banners posted on the walls of the coliseum.

“Looking for someone? What, another rookie?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.”

Lying didn’t come easily to Roxas. Xion had thought this particular cover story up, and he concentrated on getting the details right, suddenly wishing he’d rehearsed.

“Er…The thing is…My friend was talking about how he ranked in one of the tournaments awhile back. He said he snuck in and competed under a fake name, but I, er, don’t believe him. He wouldn’t even tell me what name he used. So I’m pretty sure he’s lying, but, er, I wanted to check the winner’s lists. We made a bet on it, and I have to buy him lunch if he’s up there.”

“Tell me one I ain’t heard before.” Phil rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first kid braggin’ he’s in the top brackets and hopin’ his friends don’t do their homework. I guess you can’t read Greek, huh?”

Phil trotting over to the banners left Roxas without the need to explain. He stopped in front of the three massive lists hanging on the walls of the Coliseum’s courtyard.

“All right, let’s make this quick. What name did he say he entered under?”

“He didn’t tell me, he just said he rearranged his real name. So it might be a few things. Um, Rosa…Aros…Sora…Maybe Aors…”

“Typical.” Phil snorted and scanned the lists. “You’d think guys who wanna compete incognito would figure out that ain’t the brightest trick. But every tourney, there’s at least a couple of chumps who try it out. Hmm…” He moved backwards and craned his neck to better read the top list of names. “Lotta good candidates last season. Cadmus…Kain…Hey, you said ‘Sora,’ right?”

“Yeah. Is that up there?”

Phil pointed up at the top of the banner.

“Bad news, kid. You owe your buddy a gyro platter. First place in the Phil and Pegasus Cups, and it looks like he got one of the top seeds in the last Herc Cup, too.”

“Really?”

Sora. It sounded so right, somehow.

“Guess you’ve got some tough friends,” Phil said. “Well, don’t sweat it, rookie. At the rate you’re going, you might catch up to your buddy pretty soon. Next time you’re out here—”

He turned to find that Roxas had vanished. Phil blinked, then bleated in annoyance and shook his head, scratching at his flaking horn.

“Yeesh. Kid really knows how to do a runner.” He scratched at his horn, still frowning up at the lists. “But that sure is weird…I don’t remember anybody named ‘Sora’…”

Two weeks produced more data than Roxas could have ever predicted. To his own surprise, he even enjoyed the process by the end of it. Writing down his experiences felt like catching an ugly insect hiding in a dark corner and pinning it to cardboard with a needle; it was still unknown but no longer unnerving, instead trapped and powerless, ready to be understood. In swapping notes and ideas with Xion each evening he began to feel a kind of excitement, and his visions no longer worried him, at least not exclusively. He wasn’t crazy. Something real was happening to them both—something they could study. 

Even still, he was not prepared for the conclusion they finally arrived at.

“It all fits,” Xion insisted, waving a notecard under his nose.

“It doesn’t make sense. It’s impossible.”

“I know, but it still fits."

They looked at each other. Xion defiantly stuck the final notecard onto the blank spot in the middle of the messy diagram they’d drawn, and together they contemplated the scribbled tangle of facts and assumptions surrounding it, a mixture of giddy haste and meticulous empiricism.

“Vexen’s gonna laugh at us for this,” Roxas said.

“Maybe. But I still want to know the truth.”

“What if he won’t tell us?”

“Then we’ll keep trying to figure it out ourselves.” Xion’s tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she tacked another notecard onto their diagram. “We can keep trying for as long as it takes. I mean…That’s how Vexen says people learned everything about everything—just by trying over and over, and asking questions and writing stuff down. So if that’s good enough to build everything in the whole worlds, then it’s good enough to answer just one question. Right?”

“I guess.” Roxas set aside the notecard he’d been holding, labelled “SORA?”. “But if even half of this is true, then I’ve got way more than just one question.”

They could not get an audience with Vexen the next day, and so conspired to demand his attention the day after that, skipping the clock tower to try and catch him off-guard in the lab. Their lack of by now mandatory ice cream did not endear him to the intrusion. 

“I’m sure I don’t want to know what all this is about,” he griped, turning to the next page of his notes with unnecessary force. “I told the pair of you that I’d be busy. Whatever you’ve discovered can surely wait until the end of the week.”

“But we worked really hard!”

Vexen, hunched over his notes like a grade schooler with a spelling test, peeled himself away to better glare at the pair of them, then made a point of returning to his work, his long hair falling across his face as he continued writing.

“I cannot fathom what could possibly be so important as to require my undivided attention.”

“Just five minutes?” Xion tried again.

“Do I look as if I have five minutes to spare this evening?”

Roxas and Xion exchanged looks. By now they could read one another’s expressions well enough to communicate without words, and after some silent encouragement from Xion, Roxas took the plunge and cleared his throat.

“Vexen, we want to talk about Sora.”

Vexen froze midway through entering something in a long column of data. He recovered enough to finish the last few decimal places, then closed the book with a forced calm that only sharpened Roxas and Xion’s interest.

“Where,” he asked carefully, “did you two hear that name?”

He frowned harder when Roxas and Xion beamed at each other, triumphant.

“So we’re right!”

“Right about what?” Vexen demanded—and then, suspiciously, “And what’s all this you’ve brought? What have you two been up to, exactly?”

“Doing an experiment,” said Xion. “Well, sort of.”

She set down both of their notebooks, each bristling with errant notecards and papers stuck between the pages. They made a satisfying thunk.

“An experiment, hm? How…comical. For what purpose?”

“You told me to start logging my visions a couple of weeks ago,” Roxas said. “Well, the same sort of thing was happening to Xion, so we thought that we could work together and do what you do. Y’know…gather data and test a theory and everything. Figure it all out.”

Vexen plucked one of their note sheets from between the leaves of the notebook and scowled at it, flipping it over to skim both sides, his large eyes darting. Something he saw evidently surprised him, because he paused to read one section more carefully, one eye narrowing.

“Well now. This is intriguing.”

He looked up to say more, but found Roxas and Xion busy, seeming to regard his behavior as close enough to approval for them to be getting on with. Already Roxas had spread out their notes and was arranging them while Xion commandeered the nearest whiteboard, wheeling it closer and gathering colored markers. Vexen folded his arms.

“You two aren’t going to leave me alone until you explain this, are you?”

“No,” said Xion, now standing on a stool to write on the whiteboard, quarantining Vexen’s own notes within a red circle. Vexen spared his unfinished work a grimace, but then surrendered, looking both disgruntled and intrigued.

“Very well, then. You have my attention. Walk me through whatever you’ve been up to and present your findings.”

His clipped tone fooled neither of them, as he’d begun to smile a little, watching Xion write OUR EXPERIMENT on the whiteboard in large bubbly letters. Roxas took the initiative, rummaging through their notecards.

“Okay, so—the first thing we figured out—”

Immediately Vexen waved a hand, gesturing at him to stop.

“No, no. Surely it’s common sense to present your hypothesis before any of the data?”

Xion stopped writing and turned to look at him alongside Roxas. Not for the first time, their identical blue eyes reminded Vexen of a pair of curious young animals. He strode forward, plucking the marker from Xion’s hand.

“Hypothesis, experiment, dataset, conclusion,” he said, scribbling each of these out. His handwriting was nearly unreadable. “First explain what question you were trying to answer, then how you tried to answer it, then what you learned, and finally whether your initial guess was correct. Even if your own experiment proves you wrong, that’s still valuable information. So,” he gave the marker back to Xion, “do the thing properly. What was your initial hypothesis?”

“That something special was happening to make me and Roxas have weird dreams,” Xion said at once. “Roxas didn’t start having them until after he woke up, right before you got back from Castle Oblivion. They started for me soon after that. They’re not just a coincidence—something is making them happen.”

“I see.” Vexen sat down facing the whiteboard. “Rather vague, but I suppose it will suffice. So you sought the cause of these episodes, did you? And how did you go about that?”

“First we just wrote them down.” Roxas shuffled his notes, then pulled out a few pieces of paper and handed them to Xion, who taped them to the whiteboard. “And we realized that Xion and I sometimes get similar—flashes, or whatever they are. But never at the same time. We compared our journals—” he flipped to the next page of his notebook, “and it always happens to me first. Like, if I have a vision or something, Xion might have a dream a few days later. But she doesn’t get all of the same ones I do, and she has a lot fewer than me.”

“Roxas’s visions happen all over the place,” Xion added, “but my dreams only have to do with the beach.”

She drew a palm tree on the whiteboard as Roxas skimmed the notebook.

“The thing is,” Roxas continued, “these dreams kind of seem like memories in a way. The same with the visions I get when I’m out on missions. It’s always like deja vu…like I’ve been to these different worlds before. So we thought, what if these are my memories somehow? Even though the person in them isn’t me?”

“It didn’t fit,” Xion admitted, “but it was the only idea we had. Roxas wouldn’t be getting deja vu from a stranger, right?”

“An interesting assumption,” said Vexen. “But where is your evidence?” He held his chin with one hand and his elbow with the other. Roxas and Xion exchanged looks, and Xion shuffled through their notes, sticking a few more onto the board.

“We weren’t really sure where to start,” Roxas said, “but then we got a clue. Xion figured out that everyone in the Organization has a name that’s a mix of whatever their old name was, and the letter X. A…” He checked his notes. “An anagram. So, that means that when I was a person, my name was something else, something without an ‘X.’ It was Sora.”

“How do you know that for certain?”

“The coliseum at Olympus.” Roxas shuffled through his notecards, pulling out another one. “I know he—I—‘Sora’ fought in their tournaments. I’ve had visions in the arena while I was there. And the name Sora’s really high on the list of tournament winners.”

“Shaky evidence, but I’ll let it slide, given the subject matter.” He watched Xion write SORA above her and Roxas’s names, underlining it for good measure, then drawing an arrow from Sora to Roxas and another from Roxas to her own name. Vexen smiled wider. “All right, then. So your prior existence was as ‘Sora.’ Very good. What else have you deduced?”

“This is where it gets weird. We have a theory…”

Roxas skimmed through his notes, then looked to Xion for backup, as if unsure where to begin. She chimed in.

“Roxas joined the Organization five months ago, so we know he must have lost his heart as Sora right around then.” She drew a triangle around the word SORA, with a heart, a square, and a circle at each point. “You told us that when someone loses their heart, if their heart is strong enough, their body and soul make a Nobody and their heart turns into a Heartless. And if you’re a strong enough Nobody, you get to keep your memories of who you were before.”

She drew a loop that enclosed only the circle and square, labeling it ROXAS.

“Roxas is a strong Nobody, but he still doesn’t have any of his memories from being Sora. So either he’s not actually that strong…”

“…Or something else is going on,” Roxas finished. “I mean, I dunno if I’m ‘strong’ or whatever, but…well, I’m not a Dusk, right? And I’ve even still got the Keyblade. Besides not having memories, it doesn’t seem like there’s any difference between me and any of the other members of the Organization.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts. Vexen, for once, waited patiently.

“So the thing is…” Roxas said slowly, “I don’t remember anything about being human, or about how I became a Nobody. I know I lost my heart, but what if…what if something went wrong, somehow, when that happened? Like the process got…I dunno, interrupted or messed up. My memories aren’t with me, but they couldn’t have just vanished, either. You told us that memories are pretty much impossible to destroy. So, what if something went wrong, and something weird happened to my heart, instead of just turning into a normal Heartless? Like…if my heart got trapped outside of my body somehow instead. If something like that happened, then that would mean that even though I’m here as a Nobody, my heart and my memories are stuck somewhere else. The memories should have stayed inside my body, and they couldn’t have stayed with my Heartless, so if they’re not inside me now, then maybe my heart isn’t a Heartless. Maybe it’s just...somewhere else.”

Xion circled the words HEART and SORA together, then drew a question mark.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Roxas admitted, “but it explains everything that’s going on with me. I can’t remember my past because my memories aren’t inside me. But I think that now, wherever they are, they’re starting to come back in pieces.”

“That’s why Roxas gets his visions of being Sora,” Xion said, “even though he still doesn’t remember any of it. And that’s why I have weird dreams too. I’m a copy of Roxas, so sometimes I copy his memories. And it doesn’t matter that Roxas doesn’t look exactly the same as Sora. Nobodies don’t always look exactly like they used to before. Demyx told us.”

“The only thing that doesn’t fit is Castle Oblivion,” Roxas finished, shuffling through the last of his notes. “I never used to get any visions until I fell asleep that one time, while you and the others were gone. When I woke up right before you got back, all of this started happening all of a sudden. But I don’t know why it would start then , and not when I first became a Nobody. But—I dunno, maybe it has something to do with why I fell asleep in the first place.”

He ran out of notecards, and flipped to the back of the last few to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything before setting them aside.

“So that’s what me and Xion think,” he said, trying to sound authoritative. “Are we at least kind of close?”

For a long moment, Vexen said nothing at all. Then he burst out laughing.

That in itself wasn’t unusual; they’d heard him laugh plenty, over some unspoken thought or piece of information that amused only him. But this was a laugh that took over him completely, loud and strange but genuine, his whole body shaking with the force of it. Roxas scowled as Xion climbed down from the stool.

“Told you he’d laugh,” he told her, disgruntled. When Vexen did not stop, he barked, “Hey, what’s so funny? We worked really hard on this!”

“Funny? Why, it’s absolutely hilarious! You weren’t ever supposed to know!” Vexen had to force his own mirth down to keep speaking. “The Superior gave direct orders. But I doubt it occurred to him that you would be able to deduce the truth all on your own! Hee hee…”

He laughed harder. It was a strange noise, a bit like a turkey squawking, and Roxas and Xion looked at one another uneasily, unsure what to make of this reaction.

“Why didn’t Xemnas think we could figure it out?” Roxas demanded, as Vexen began to control himself. “We’re not stupid.”

Vexen fought another laugh down and wiped his eye.

“I’d say he simply didn’t expect you to have the wherewithal to unravel the whole mystery. In fact you’ve surprised even me.” He smiled at the diagram Xion had drawn. “You two have taken my teaching to heart, haven’t you? Metaphorically speaking.”

“So we’re right, then?” Xion asked eagerly. “About Roxas’s memories and everything?”

“Almost.” Vexen had finally recovered from his laughing fit, though he still looked amused as he sized the two of them up, his smile as odd as always but now tinged with pride. He stood up. “Strictly speaking, I ought not to tell you anything more than what you seem to know. But frankly, I admire the initiative you’ve both shown in attempting to educate yourselves. And if I don’t give you the truth, you’ll doubtless acquire a distorted version of it from elsewhere, which would be far more troublesome.” His expression sobered. “But the pair of you have to swear to me you won’t let on to the others that you know anything. The Superior would prefer you in the dark about this. You especially, Roxas.”

“Why does everything have to be a big secret all the time?” Roxas asked. “No one’s supposed to know Xion’s a Replica, I’m not supposed to know about my past…What’s the point?”

“Welcome to the Organization, boy. That’s how things are done here.”

“Well, it’s stupid.”

“I won’t argue it, but you’d best not say that in earshot of anyone else.” Vexen gave Roxas’s head an admonishing tap with one finger. “Now, then. You two have earned an explanation, but I’ll warn you that I can’t be as thorough as I would like. I’ve had precious little opportunity to observe Sora directly. But if you promise to keep silent—and behave as if you’ve learned nothing—then I’ll give you what data I have. You’ve already discovered all the essentials.”

Roxas rubbed the top of his head as Xion beamed.

“Observe Sora directly?” Roxas echoed. “What does that mean? Did you meet me before I turned into a Nobody?”

“Oh, it’s far more complicated than that. Both of you—take a seat.”

Chapter Text

Day 165: The Truth About Sora

We gave Vexen our results yesterday, and he told us about Sora. I thought we’d figured it all out, but the truth is even harder to get my head around.

Nobodies are what’s left over when someone loses their heart. So if Sora is who I was, then he and I shouldn’t exist at the same time…right? Is Sora just a heart or something? It doesn’t make sense. But at least now I know why I keep getting those weird pictures in my head. I’m seeing his memories. (My memories? Our memories? I don’t know what to think.)

One thing’s for sure: the Organization doesn’t know where Sora is. But maybe my visions will give us a clue to help us find him.

Over the next few days, Roxas acquired a new appreciation for what Xion must have experienced right after discovering she was a Replica. Nothing in his daily routine had changed, and no one treated him any differently, yet every morning when he woke, the first thing he remembered was the impossible existence of Sora.

Strictly speaking, he knew he ought to consider Sora an extension of himself—but he found that he couldn’t, and quickly gave up trying. It just didn’t make sense, even if it was technically correct. He couldn’t remember ever being Sora, and Sora was still out there somehow, unaware of Roxas. Roxas had never done any of the myriad things Sora seemed to have done, and in turn Sora had never laughed with Xion on the clock tower, or been bone-tired after a long day’s mission, or had to sit through one of Vexen’s lectures. It was much easier to think of Sora as a stranger to whom he happened to be related, rather than as the rest of his own existence that was, somehow, out there walking and talking without him.

“I mean, is he like—a clone of me?” Roxas wondered aloud, trying to think it through in a way that didn’t give him a headache. “Or am I a clone of him?”

“He came first,” Xion pointed out, “but I don’t think a Nobody’s really a ‘clone.’ And even if you were, that wouldn’t make you the same. I’m a clone, and you and I are still really different.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Roxas finished his ice cream and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sunset so that he could read anything printed on the stick, hoping it might say WINNER. It was blank. For some reason, Roxas felt the urge to write his name on it, and wished he had a marker.

“I am me,” he declared, raising the stick high as if it were some kind of torch. “Nobody else.”

If he was trying to be dramatic, he failed, because Xion laughed and nudged him with her shoulder.

“I’m you too, silly,” she teased. “Or maybe both of us are Sora.”

“Or maybe all of this is stupid.” Roxas nudged her back. “I’m tired of thinking about it. I’m me, you’re you, and Sora is Sora. We’re all just—connected. That’s all.”

Xion nodded her agreement. Roxas leaned back on the heels of his hands to better support her weight, and they watched the sunset together for a while, enjoying the silence.

“You think we could ever meet him?” he finally said aloud. “Sora, I mean.”

“We’d have to find him first. It seems like he’s hiding really well.” Xion sat up straighter. “Besides, I don’t know if I could handle meeting another goofball as big as you.”

“Oh gee, thanks.” He shoved her playfully. “And who are you a Replica of again?”

Their laughter rang over the station tower, across the empty plaza, startling a flock of pigeons.

Vexen heard of it only in passing, an offhand comment from Xigbar thrown on his way back from the lab. He changed course at once, and found Saïx still in Xion’s room, writing notes on a clipboard as she slept with half-open eyes, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Saïx did not react to Vexen’s tirade except by pausing, briefly, in his note-taking.

“Utterly unacceptable!” Vexen was saying, his gaunt face twitching as he paced back and forth. He ranted at Saïx without deigning to look at him, his whole attention reserved for Xion lying motionless on the bed. “Why wasn’t I informed at once? I should have been summoned the moment she was retrieved.”

“Don’t feign concern.”

“I don’t have to feign anything. Xion’s condition is of the utmost importance to my research.” He stopped pacing, though he still quivered with the force of his agitation. “And unless you’ve found someone else to run this Program, I suggest you take an interest in her yourself. How long has she been like this? Did the Dusks say?”

“We can’t be certain. They brought it in this afternoon, and it’s shown no activity since.”

Vexen resumed pacing. Saïx took down a note on his clipboard, his scowl growing more pronounced.

“How long will it take to repair this time?” he asked Vexen.

“I can’t know until I’ve run some tests.” Vexen glared at him. “Does Lord Xemnas know of this development?”

If he was hoping to score a point with this jab, he didn’t succeed. Saïx smoothed down the papers attached to his clipboard and said, with perfect ease: “Yes. He has already inspected Xion for himself.”

Vexen muttered something too low to distinguish and bent over the bed, inspecting Xion in earnest, though she did not react at all to any of his poking and prodding. Saïx watched, frowning.

“And what should I tell the Superior?” came his voice.

“Nothing at present. I’ll send my own report later this evening.”

Saïx did not so much as raise an eyebrow, though something in his cool demeanor suggested the spirit of the gesture. Vexen waited until he’d left the room before giving his agitation full reign, pacing the entire length of the bed, his cloak swishing against the bedframe with every pivot. Xion did not stir. Only when he had burned enough energy to keep his hands from shaking did he roll up his sleeves and begin.

His investigation was no less thorough for being harried. Halfway through documenting the results, Roxas arrived bearing an optimistic three sticks of ice cream, and Vexen wolfed down both his and Xion’s without enjoyment. Roxas couldn’t even finish his, letting it melt on the windowsill beside Xion’s bed. Xion slept deeply, expressionless.

“Will she be okay?”

“In all likelihood. But her condition is cause for concern.” Vexen pulled up one of her eyelids, watching her pupil dilate. “This will take a good deal of work on my part, I think.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not yet certain what’s gone wrong.”

“It’s not the same thing as last time?”

“It is, actually. The trouble is that it shouldn’t have happened again. Unless…”

This set him off onto a train of thought that sunk his mind inwards, and Roxas had seen it enough to know that pulling him out of his reverie was unwise. Still, he could not stay silent for long.

“No one even bothered to tell me,” he said bitterly, making Vexen look over at him. “I thought she was just too tired to come to the clock tower. I didn’t hear about it until I got back.” He watched her face for signs of life, but there was nothing except the very faint rise and fall of her chest. “Do you think she’s hurt?”

“Physically, no, it doesn’t seem so. Her injuries were mild. The problem is more technical that that.”

“Does it have to do with Sora? All the memories we’ve started to get from him?”

Vexen threw Roxas a sharp look.

“Very astute of you. It’s one of the more likely possibilities.”

“That’s what I figured.” Roxas grimaced, putting a hand through his messy hair. “Sora weirds me out. He shouldn’t even exist. Now he’s hurting Xion…”

Vexen poked and prodded at Xion, occasionally taking notes, but nothing he did made any sense to Roxas. Roxas didn’t pay close attention in any case; he simply finished his ice cream in silence, staring hard at Xion, his free hand clenched into a fist against his knee. She didn’t move at all the whole time he watched her, though he looked hard for the slightest sign of life, thinking. Only when he’d finished his ice cream did he look up from her face.

“Vexen?”

Vexen either did not hear this, or did not deem it worth responding to. Roxas brooded, then tried again.

“Hey, Vexen? I’ve got a question. It’s not about Xion.”

This elicited a snort. He poked Xion again, triggering a twitching reflex in her hand, then jotted down a note.

“Have at it, then. The stars know you’ve asked me enough already.”

“What’s ‘love’?”

Vexen looked up, his frown deepening, one of his eyes wider than the other. “Excuse me?”

“Love. Xaldin mentioned it today on our mission, but I don’t understand what it is. He said it’s some kind of…power?”

The sheer oddness of the question made Vexen regard Roxas intently.

“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. Love is an emotion—one of the strongest there is.”

“Is it some kind of magic?”

“Only metaphorically.”

“Then what is it? I know it’s a feeling, but what makes it so special? Xaldin said it was powerful, but that it doesn’t ever last.”

Vexen snorted again.

“He would say that.” He made another note. “I would take anything you hear from him about it with a grain of salt. He has a highly biased view of the subject.”

“How come?”

But Vexen waved the question aside, in a gesture Roxas had come to learn meant he was, uncharacteristically, unwilling to offer an explanation. Talkative as Vexen was, there were certain subjects that remained taboo; the shared past of some of the Organization was one such.

“Love,” said Vexen at last, “is a blanket term used to describe a wide variety of states of affection. Subtypes vary, but the essential commonality is that love causes the subject to care for another’s well-being as much as their own. Above their own, in many cases.”

This seemed to click with Roxas, as he perked up.

“Caring about someone else…Okay. So that’s why the Beast and Belle were acting like that today. He didn’t want her to get hurt, and she was worried because he did get hurt. So…love is when you care more about someone else than about yourself?”

“In essence.”

“And that’s—a kind of power, somehow?”

Vexen did not reply. He was still brooding over Xion, occasionally prodding her or checking her pulse, though Roxas couldn’t tell whether this was out of proper scientific procedure or sheer frustration. In sleep Xion’s expression was neutral, neither frowning nor smiling, but at least she did not seem to be in pain.

“Can you love anyone?” Roxas asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Well…You can worry about your friends, right? Like how I’m worried about Xion. Is that the same as love?”

“Yes and no. There is love in friendships, but love, as spoken of in a romantic sense, tends to be a more psychologically overpowering emotion than friendship.”

“So love is like a step above friends?”

Vexen mulled this over, looking at Xion.

“As I’ve observed it scientifically,” he said, “love comes in many forms. Though I’ll concede that my research into the heart has never focused on it specifically. There’s little incentive to concentrate on any one emotion when the goal is to discover general principles.” He brushed a strand of Xion’s hair out of her sleeping face. “But to answer your question—no. There aren’t ‘steps.’ Merely variations on the same concept. As I said, there are many different varieties of love. Some are accompanied by more intense physical symptoms, that’s all.”

“So it’s…a power, that’s the same, but…different? Like different flavors of ice cream?”

“An exceedingly poor analogy.”

Roxas stifled a sigh of frustration.

“I just don’t get it. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Don’t lose sleep over it, boy.” Vexen looked to him, bemused. “I don’t see why you’re concerned with the question in the first place. It’s not as if you’ve experienced such a thing for yourself.”

“Yeah, but…” Roxas struggled for words, and as so often happened, the struggle gave his mind time to catch up to his frustration, forming an argument he knew Vexen would acknowledge. “It’s good to understand things even if you’ve never experienced them yourself. You said that before. Everything is data, right?”

“Hmph. Quite true. Nevertheless, there’s no sense in tying your mind in knots over something as irrelevant as this. Love is the last concern a Nobody could possibly have.”

Roxas said nothing, and for a minute there was relative silence as Vexen continued to scribble notes. The light of Kingdom Hearts filtered through the enormous window by the bed, and Roxas watched it ebb and flow rhythmically, the effect so small that it could only be noticed by focusing intently on the edge of a shadow. It reminded him of a heartbeat, or the lapping of the waves on the Destiny Islands.

“Vexen? When you went to Castle Oblivion on that mission, with Sora and everything…How did Axel die?”

Vexen looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t witness it personally. But he fell to Marluxia.”

“Marluxia?” Roxas dug through his memories, looking for whatever scraps of rumor had floated down to him in the immediate aftermath of the Castle Oblivion news. “The one who turned traitor. Axel fought him?”

“And lost.”

An odd sensation filled his chest, tight but faint, like a shallow wound that had scarred over. Roxas rubbed his sternum, but it didn’t change the sensation. He realized that he hadn’t thought of Axel in a long time, and that did change it—it grew worse.

“If I had a heart, you think I could love somebody?”

“Mm?” Vexen ran a knuckle down the side of Xion’s face, frowning. “An odd question, but yes. That’s rather the point.”

Roxas let go of his chest. His worried gaze stayed fixed on Xion.

“What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“Did you ever love anyone?” Roxas asked him. “I don’t know about all the different ‘varieties’ of love and all that. But was there ever someone else you cared about more than you cared about yourself? Back when you were a person?”

Vexen finally tore his attention away from Xion, frowning at Roxas, searching his face for anything incriminating: a hint of irony, sarcasm, malice. There was nothing. Roxas only looked curious, and it was enough to conjure memories he hadn’t touched in ages, things half-thought and then pushed down again by the weight of the intervening years—scenes from another life a dozen years ago and a dozen worlds away, another endlessly curious child with bright blue eyes.

“Yes. I did once.”

“Once? What happened?”

“I lost him.” Vexen looked away. “A long time ago. Long before you joined us.”

Research Entry 474

Xion has fallen unconscious and cannot be woken. I am tempted to label it a totally comatose state, but evidence suggests that she is dreaming.

The exact cause is not yet apparent, though I am working diligently towards a solution. Without more information I can do little, and yet intuition tells me her connection to Roxas is to blame. She has never reacted to the data she was fed the way she was designed to. Now something is going amiss.

The missing Keyblade master may somehow be a factor.

“What news of our Replica?” In the confines of the Round Room, Xemnas’s deep voice echoed. “Deliver your report.”

Vexen composed himself and craned his neck to gaze up at the three of them. Xemnas was not hooded, but Saïx and Xigbar had remained so, giving the impression of a judge and jurors contemplating him from on high. He forced himself to sit up, instead of slouching forward as he typically did.

“She is still non-functional at present,” he said, raising his voice to be heard, “but mechanically there’s nothing wrong with her.”

“An interesting contradiction,” Saïx said. Vexen scowled up at him, but Saïx ignored it, addressing Xemnas directly. “The thing has been out of commission for a week, sir. It’s high time it be replaced.”

“I beg your pardon?” Vexen snapped, glaring up at Saïx. “One doesn’t simply throw out as fine a piece of work as Xion over a simple malfunction. I have every confidence that a solution can be devised.”

“That is good to hear,” came Xemnas’s voice. Vexen redirected his attention to him.

“Lord Xemnas, Xion’s unfortunate disposition is temporary. I expect to arrive at a solution to the problem shortly—once I’ve gathered enough data.”

“And how long will it be unable to perform its duties?”

“I can’t be certain. But I assure you I will restore her to normal as soon as I am able.”

“We should destroy it,” Saïx said coolly.

“Excuse me?”

Saïx did not spare Vexen a look, addressing the Superior instead, interlacing his fingers as he rested his hands on the knee of his crossed leg.

“Lord Xemnas…if this continues, surely erasing Xion and using another Replica as the duplicate would yield a higher-grade copy? A puppet is a puppet: something to be toyed with until it breaks. And at present, No. i is nothing short of broken.” Now Saïx’s golden gaze darted to Vexen. “Xion was among the initial lot, which naturally raises questions about its capabilities. Surely it would be best to start fresh…”

“I don’t have any active templates at the ready,” Vexen shot back, “as you ought to know full well from my reports. And do you suppose I’m running an assembly line? Surely you recall how long it took to get even two units to stay viable long enough to receive data in the first place? If I were to begin the whole process again, even with all my equipment—”

Xemnas silenced him with a raised hand. Vexen swallowed the rest of his argument and shifted in his seat. The pause before Xemnas continued felt heavy.

“I think,” Xemnas began, with the slow care with which he always spoke, “that Saïx’s concern is not unfounded. I have been observing Xion’s behavior, and its interactions with Roxas. It controls the Keyblade, and yet it is far from being as passive as we had intended. Is that not so, Vexen?”

Vexen opened his mouth to explain, realized just in time that an explanation was not wanted, and clenched his jaw shut again, merely nodding.

“Of course,” Xemnas mused, “there is every reason to let Xion continue its current functions. But should it ever behave too erratically, a new Replica would perform just as well. Perhaps even better, as Saïx suggests. Once Kingdom Hearts nears completion…it may behoove us to resume the Program in earnest.”

Vexen could sense Saïx shifting in his peripheral vision, but for once found it easier to keep his attention on Xemnas, even if he couldn’t directly meet his gaze.

“Superior—may I ask the reasoning behind this?” Vexen asked. “You must understand…The difficulties we are having with Xion would only be compounded if we ever attempted to replicate Roxas again. His situation is so unusual that I can’t devise any way to permanently solve the problem without first acquiring Sora. Whom it seems we’re no closer to locating.”

“Nope,” said Xigbar. “Not for lack of tryin’, though, gotta give us that.”

“Consequently…” Vexen chose his words carefully, feeling Xemnas’s gaze from above. “I could certainly produce more Replicas, given enough time and equipment. Possibly better ones. But without another wielder of the Keyblade to copy, what use could they be to the Organization? They would simply be puppets. Empty shells capable of life, without any will of their own.”

“Such hollow vessels could indeed serve a purpose.” Xemnas’s smooth voice echoed in the high, closed room, seeming to come from more than one place. “Kingdom Hearts is a worthy ambition, and our best hope for achieving our goal. However…We must do everything we can to ensure ourselves of success. Even the most carefully-wrought plans must have a failsafe.”

Xigbar chuckled; Saïx said nothing.

“Lord Xemnas, I don’t quite understand…”

“You need not trouble yourself with the details.” Xemnas’s gesture was gently dismissive. “All that matters is that we make the most efficient use of the tools at our disposal. Xion is one. We may need others. But until the time is right…”

Xemnas looked down at him.

“Repair the Replica. For now.”

Day 174: Seashells for Her

Xion hasn't woken up, but I'm pulling double duty to make up for it. Vexen still isn’t sure exactly how to help her.

I’ve been bringing her a seashell each day she’s asleep and leaving it on her pillow, like she did for me. It would please me to see her smile when she finds them.

Those pictures flashed through my head again in Never Land. And when I flew, it felt like I'd done it before. It seems like everywhere I go, Sora’s already been there first. I wonder what he’s doing right now.

The clock tower lost its charm without a friend to laugh with. Roxas went every day anyway, after he’d completed his mission and picked up a shell from the Destiny Islands, but sitting there alone with the knowledge that Xion wasn’t well made him feel (or imagine that he felt) oddly guilty. The ice cream tasted the same, of course, but somehow he couldn’t enjoy it.

In his concern for Xion, his thoughts kept coming back to Sora. Knowing that he might be responsible for Xion’s condition made each new flash of memory feel like a taunt, and after a few days Roxas stopped logging the incidents in his journal, unwilling to grant Sora more power over his life than he already seemed to have. He fantasized about finding him: bursting into whatever hideout Sora had found, demanding (somehow) that he keep all his scattered memories to himself. It was a ridiculous idea, and he knew it, but his own helplessness kept him from ever throwing the thought away entirely. Several times while hunting seashells, he was even tempted to go over to the main island and ask around for Sora, and only the knowledge that it would probably do more harm than good stopped him each time. That world was Sora’s home, and therefore the least likely place he’d be hiding if he were determined not to be found. There would be no point in causing a ruckus among the islanders for such a slim chance of success.

At first he set each seashell on Xion’s pillow with no fanfare, but after a few days he began to stay with her for a while, sitting on the side of the bed and telling her about what he’d seen and done on his mission, or sharing whatever meager gossip passed for news in the unchanging routine of the Organization. These one-sided conversations were meaningless, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. It seemed better than doing nothing to acknowledge that she was still in there somewhere, beneath the non-expression she wore in sleep.

“I know she can’t hear me,” he admitted one evening, when Vexen stopped by, “but I can’t just ignore her, either.”

“Well, talking’s not going to do any harm, at least.” Vexen skimmed through his notes, running a thumb down the side of the paper. “You might as well do it if you’re so inclined.”

So Roxas did. He told her the same sorts of things he would have told her if she’d been awake, sometimes reaching out to touch her hand or shoulder, like he might have done if they were sitting side-by-side in Twilight Town. It never helped anything—not that he could see, anyway—but like Vexen had said, it didn’t seem to hurt her, either. Sometimes he even imagined that she noticed.

“A little while ago, when I was talking to her, she smiled in her sleep. Do you think she heard me?”

“Highly unlikely. Any physical reactions she has will no doubt be to whatever it is she’s dreaming about.”

“Dreaming…” Roxas watched her sleeping face. Her smile had long gone. “I hope they’re good dreams, at least.”

Saïx assigned him only heart collection to compensate for Xion’s absence, though Roxas grew to hate having to report in the morning—not because of the extra work, but because of Saïx’s attitude. No one else acted much concerned with Xion one way or the other, but Saïx, never pleasant to begin with, seemed to go out of his way to rub salt in the wound each time Roxas mentioned her.

“Xion’s failings won’t affect your standing with us,” he told Roxas one morning. “You’ve nothing to worry about. Just do your job.”

Roxas’s one source of consolation was Vexen, who reported that he had to endure similar insults. Having an ally to commiserate with made Saïx’s criticisms at least somewhat more bearable, though more than once Roxas had to storm off quickly through the dark portal in the morning, lest he go off on a Vexen-style tirade. Every evening when he returned to the castle, he held out hope that he’d enter Xion’s room to find her sitting up and talking, but he never did. The only activity in the room was always either the Dusks or Vexen checking on her, if she weren’t completely alone.

“You don’t know what to do, do you?” Roxas asked Vexen. “You don’t know how to fix her.”

“I have some ideas. But no, I have no satisfactory solution as of yet.”

“How can I help?” Roxas asked. “Xion was copied from me, right? So there has to be some way I can help her.”

“Perhaps—and perhaps not. It’s too early to determine.”

“Too early? It’s been over a week.”

“And you think that’s enough? Hmph.” Vexen pointed to him with his ice cream. “These things take time, Roxas. Would you rather I rush the job and risk harming her?”

“No…no, of course not.” Roxas looked away, scowling. “It’s just that when I see her lying there like this…I can’t stop thinking she’ll never wake up.”

“If she doesn’t, that will be my fault.” Vexen scribbled a note on the topmost paper of the stack set on his knees. “Rest assured, I’ll summon you if necessary. But at the moment, I don’t see anything you can do. If I decide otherwise, however, you’ll be the first to know.”

Roxas sighed again, watching Xion sleep.

“This place sure is creepy, huh?” Demyx shivered as they passed the rusty guillotine in the town square. “So not my vibe.”

Beside him, Roxas wiped sweat from his face, grimacing.

“Y’know, you could have at least tried to help me with the target back there…”

“Hey, I gave it a few good whacks! You just didn’t notice cuz you were concentrating so hard, that’s all.”

Roxas was too tired from the battle with the Dual Blade to argue, though he was almost certain that the one jet of water that had hit the Heartless had been an accident. As they passed through the main square of Halloween Town—deserted, as it usually was under the watery sunlight of daytime—Demyx hummed a catchy melody to himself while Roxas stayed silent, frowning at the pavement as they skirted along the stone wall topped with wrought ironwork that enclosed the square. After a bit, Demyx stopped humming.

“Say, what’s eating you today, Roxas? You’re awful quiet.”

“Nothing.” Roxas peered ahead, trying to remember down which alley they had left the open corridor of darkness. “I’m just worried about Xion.”

“Oh yeah…Is she still doing the Rip Van Winkle thing? Man, what happened?”

“She’s gonna be okay,” Roxas said, as much to convince himself as Demyx. “She’s just…out of commission right now.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Can’t say I’m not jealous, though. Talk about a power nap!”

Roxas glared at him, and Demyx looked mildly chastised.

“Hey, man, don’t sweat it. I bet Xion’ll be on her feet in no time.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Yeah, well—it’s not like we can do anything about it, right? So there’s no point stressing. It’s all water under the bridge.”

“What bridge?”

Demyx laughed, brushing at his sleeve where a huge cobweb from the fence had caught against his coat.

“It’s just an expression. It means, like…let it go. No worries.”

“How am I supposed to not worry? Xion is my friend. I want her to get better.”

Demyx laughed again. The sound roused a colony of bats that had been sleeping under the eaves of the town hall, and a few of them chirruped at Roxas and Demyx in complaint as they walked below.

“You’re a funny kid, Roxas, you know that?”

“Whatever.” He almost added don’t call me a kid, but said instead, “Seriously, does no one else care about Xion at all? What if she doesn’t ever wake up? Wouldn’t that bother you?”

“Who, me? Nah.” Demyx shrugged. “It’s not like we haven’t lost other members before. I mean, sure, Castle Oblivion was a real shocker…but even before that, we’ve had some fall off the wagon here and there. So why worry about anybody else when it’s enough work looking out for number one? You could get gobbled up by a Heartless out on a mission…or turned into a Dusk by the boss…”

“Can Xemnas really do that?”

“You’d better believe it. And it ain’t pretty, either.” Demyx gulped and scratched his cheek with one finger, as if remembering something he hadn’t wanted to. “It’s super rare, though. Saïx is always barking at us to work harder, but the big guy only comes down on you if you screw up really bad. There’s hardly any Nobodies who are good enough to join up in the first place, so you’ve gotta seriously cross the line to get Duskified. Just botching a couple missions isn’t enough.”

“Then what is?” Roxas asked, suddenly curious. Vexen had never talked about this. “I mean…What do you have to do to get turned into a Dusk?”

Demyx looked both ways, as if concerned about eavesdroppers, but there was no one.

“What do you gotta do? Try bailing on the team!” he said, in a loud whisper—to no purpose, as he immediately dropped the whisper as he continued. “Once you’re in the Organization, you’re in for the long haul. You can’t just hand in your two weeks’ notice if you get sick of doing missions. Sure, everybody slacks off sometimes…”

Some of us more than others, Roxas thought.

“…But I’m talking about like, quitting. Like telling Xemnas to shove it and just walking out the door. You try that, and it’s a Dusking for sure. I bet X-Face puts you on permanent toilet cleaning duty, too.”

“Have you ever seen that happen?”

“Oh yeah!” Demyx nodded. “You think I’m the first guy to be ranked Number Nine?”

“What? You aren’t?”

“Nope.” Demyx shook his head. “The guy who came before me’s a Dusk now…I think. Or maybe he just got vaporized. I can’t remember…that was before I joined up. But the guy who tried to quit after that? Yeah, he’s definitely still a Dusk. Brrr.” He shivered.  “So the point is, you can’t spend all your time worrying about anybody else. If Xion gets better, she gets better. If not—hey, no skin off your back, right? You just gotta keep on keeping on.”

He flashed Roxas a smile that, while intended to be encouraging, instead made Roxas grimace. As Demyx marched ahead towards the portal they’d left at the end of the alleyway, Roxas trailed him, thinking.

No skin off his back…Well, technically it was true. He had to be sure to gather more hearts now that Xion wasn’t working, but beyond that, her situation didn’t affect him at all. No matter whether he thought about her a hundred times a day or not even once, it wouldn’t change how fast Vexen managed to fix her. Maybe Demyx was right—maybe there wasn’t any point to worrying in the first place.

And yet…

And yet, he couldn’t turn it off. In fact, he didn’t even want to. The very thought was somehow offensive.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me, he thought gloomily, following a humming Demyx through the portal.

“Repairing the thing is a waste of time.”

Vexen bristled like a cat, sneering up at Saïx, who stood silhouetted on the landing of Twilight’s View. The light of Kingdom Hearts spilling through the huge windows beyond haloed Saïx, giving him a blurry aura, as if he were a mirage. Vexen hurried up the rest of the stairs.

“And what concern is it of yours?” he demanded, reaching the landing. The moonlight that suited Saïx so well did not flatter Vexen, deepening his hollow cheeks, highlighting the lines cut into his lean face. “I’m well on my way to discovering a solution, which you would know if you had actually read my latest report. In any case I’m under no obligation to defend my methods to you.”

His height gave him an advantage as he glared down at Saïx, who still looked unfazed—bored, if anything.

“It’s been ten days,” Saïx said flatly. “First it goes missing, and now this. You can’t deny that this particular model is defective.”

“I most certainly can!” Vexen shook a fist under Saix’s nose. “Xion is a remarkable specimen, despite her current condition. As far as I’m concerned the experiment is proceeding exceptionally well.”

“You pay the creature too much attention.”

“You will not speak about her that way!”

“It,” Saïx said sharply, “is the Organization’s property, not your personal plaything.”

“I beg your pardon? I made—”

“No one is disputing the circumstances of the thing’s manufacture.” Saïx looked unruffled by Vexen looming over him. “But the fact remains that the Replica was meant to duplicate Roxas’s abilities, nothing more. Number Fourteen…Its rank is an illusion. Pretending otherwise violates the intentions of the Program.”

“Oh- ho! Is that what this is about?” Vexen poked Saïx in the chest, making him scowl. “Violating the intentions of the Program, am I? Truly astonishing. And when you threw Xion at Riku without any sort of preparation—that was in full compliance with the Superior’s wishes, as well?”

“He raised no objection after the fact.”

“Is that so?” Vexen missed a beat, but caught himself, plowing on heatedly. “Regardless, your personal distaste for Xion has gone far enough. I won’t stand to have my handiwork degraded by a pencil-pushing ingrate who can’t appreciate the subtleties of real genius.”

“The Replica can’t be given special treatment. Those were Lord Xemnas’s orders.”

“I’m aware. And the orders to eliminate everyone in Castle Oblivion—those were his too, I suppose?”

Saïx’s golden eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hah! Play the fool, then. It’s no concern of mine.” Vexen made a sweeping gesture that defied the offhand tone he tried to give his words. “But your accomplice said more than he should have before he met his untimely end. He always was an arrogant ass, wasn’t he?”

Saïx scowled.

“If you’re referring to Axel…He was delegated to dispose of anyone who showed disloyalty to the Organization. Whether the Superior gave him a list of names, I cannot say. There is no way to know whether he overstepped the bounds of his orders.”

“How very convenient for you.” Vexen gestured again. “I must say, for a man with no feelings, you’ve been remarkably foul-tempered since the Oblivion incident. One might get the impression you’re upset that your associate wasn’t the sole survivor of the situation. A most troubling notion…”

“My only concern is for the efficiency of the Organization.” For the first time, an edge of sharpness tinted Saïx’s voice. “We’re well rid of Marluxia and his ilk, but Axel’s demise was…unfortunate.”

“Indeed. Unfortunate for whom, I wonder?”

Saïx sneered. Vexen smirked, triumphant at having chipped away even this small fleck of Saïx’s composure, and though Saïx wiped his expression clean at once, the damage had already been done. Saïx turned away, speaking over his shoulder.

“This conversation is meaningless. I was making an observation for your own benefit…but on your own head be it if Xemnas takes issue with how you’re coddling that piece of junk. You were warned.”

Before Saïx reached the next flight of transparent stairs, Vexen had swept past him, blocking his way, refusing to let him have the last word.

“Junk, is she? A piece of junk? Your insolence knows no bounds!” He shook a fist in Saïx’s stony face. “Listen to me, you blue-haired buffoon. Since you’re apparently incapable of grasping how impressive Xion is with that inferior mind of yours, I’ll say this using small words: you will not insult her. Do I make myself clear?”

“I don’t take orders from you.”

“Excuse me?” Vexen hissed. “I am Number Four in this Organization! You’re only Number Seven!”

Saïx’s retort was to ignore this completely, brushing past Vexen and ascending the next flight of stairs, not quickly but with a confidence that made it clear his time was being wasted. Vexen seethed and hurried up the stairs after him, passing in and out of slices of moonlight.

“Don’t think you can get away with this kind of attitude! I won’t stand to have her treated so flippantly!”

Saïx stopped climbing the stairs, and Vexen stopped too, so that when Saïx turned to glare at him, they were for once at eye level.

“Her.’ Do you really see that much merit in this little game of make-believe? Pretending that thing’s a child?” He did not give Vexen time to argue. “The puppet is a waste of resources as long as it’s inoperable. And even if you do get it back online, it’s only useful as long as it can perform the task it was built for. Otherwise, all your complaining won’t be able to keep it off the scrap heap.”

“Xion’s fate is not for you to decide!”

“Nor is it for you.”

Vexen hissed softly, grinding his teeth.

“I warn you, Saïx—if you continue maligning her, I’ll take it up with him.”

“Will you?” Saïx’s tone did not change, but somehow held a hint of mockery all the same. “And what will you tell Lord Xemnas? That I’m being disrespectful to the equipment he ordered you to build?”

“Xion is not a piece of equipment! ”

“Then what is it, exactly?”

Vexen had trailed off, and Saïx’s needling made him bare his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides.

“She is my greatest creation,” he finished—still haughty, but with his vitriol dulled. The question seemed to have caught him off guard. “And as such, I won’t have her denigrated by the likes of you. Is that clear?”

Instead of answering, Saïx turned his back on Vexen and headed further up the stairs. This time Vexen did not follow, seething but silent as he watched Saïx glow and then darken as each step upward took him in and out of the moonlight. When he reached the next landing, Vexen called up at him.

“She may as well be a member of the Organization!”

Saïx paused, though he was shrouded in darkness now, and it was impossible to tell whether he was looking down at Vexen. Vexen raised his voice.

“Xion may not be a Nobody, but her construction was flawless. She’s indistinguishable from a real child.”

“Is that what you think?” came Saïx’s voice. “Well…Have it your way, then. Since you’re so wonderfully adept at taking care of children.”

Saïx disappeared into a swirl of darkness as Vexen made an enraged sound almost loud enough to be a shriek. He stormed up a few of the stairs, but his opponent had vanished, and there was no one else around on whom to vent his ire. He was left standing alone on the moonlit staircase, cursing under his breath, fists clenched at his sides.

“How is she today?”

Vexen accepted the ice cream Roxas offered without answering the question, and Roxas sat on the side of Xion’s bed, carefully setting a seashell on her pillow. She did not stir. Vexen had clearly been here for some time, as he had a thick notebook with him and was scribbling in his lap. The rest of the shells that had been on Xion’s pillow had been moved to the windowsill, arranged neatly in a row. His long hair fell in his face as he wrote.

“She responded to the preliminary tests,” Vexen said. “Not well, mind you, but it’s a start.”

Roxas hadn’t expected the question to have much of an answer, and sat up straighter, his eyes widening.

“Wait—so you’ve figured it out? You’ll be able to wake her up?”

“In all likelihood. Actually, at this rate she might very well wake up on her own, though it would take at least another two weeks. But if all goes well, I should be able to restore her to function within a few days.”

“When will you know for sure?”

“Tomorrow. If she shows as much improvement in the morning as I’ve calculated she ought, then I’ll know I’m on the right track.”

Relief passed over Roxas’s face. His posture relaxed, and he even smiled as he tackled his ice cream with sudden gusto. Xion looked exactly the same as she always had, but he imagined he could see some minute change in her, a different cast to her skin or the slightest hint of a quiver at the corner of her mouth. It was all in his head, he knew, but he was too eager for reassurance to care. He reached out and touched her shoulder.

“Hear that, Xion? You’re gonna get better soon.”

He watched her keenly, thinking she might smile, or show at least the tiniest reaction for the first time, but there was nothing. Still, Roxas felt as if something heavy inside him had dissolved away. She would get better.

But when?

“I hate waiting,” Roxas said aloud. “I’m glad you figured it out, but I wish I could do something. I wish I could help you help her.”

“Hmph. You really are half of Sora, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vexen raised an eyebrow at him, squinting with one eye.

“You have his propensity for taking action, regardless of whether it’s well- or ill-considered.”

“Translation?”

“Sora acts by following his heart, rather than his head. You’re inclined to the same.”

“Not my fault,” Roxas said, waving his ice cream stick. “And I can’t follow a heart I don’t have. I just…do what seems right. That’s all.”

Vexen chuckled.

“That’s also very Sora of you…”

“Sora, Sora, Sora. Forget about him already.” Roxas folded his arms and leaned back, staring at the off-white ceiling, his brow furrowing as he frowned. “I just want Xion to be okay again.”

“Tired of working a double quota, are you?”

“It’s not that. I’m worried about her. And I’m sick of listening to Saïx talk bad about her just because she’s hurt.” His temper flared, remembering. “Why does he hate her so much, anyway? The other day when I was coming here to visit, he called her broken. Like she’s just a…a thing.”

“Pay that ignorant fool no mind, Roxas.”

“But he’s such a jerk!” Roxas fumed. “Maybe you made Xion, but that doesn’t mean she’s just some…some object. And besides—” He looked over at Kingdom Hearts through the nearby window, then turned away from it, frowning. In his burst of indignation, he’d accidentally snapped his ice cream stick in half. “Even if Xion is different from a normal Nobody…I mean, what does it matter? Everyone always says we don’t really exist anyway, because we don’t have hearts. But Xion has a heart. You said so. So she’s worth more than any of us.”

He expected Vexen to argue—was eager for it, in fact, in his frustration. But for once Vexen did not take the bait, and Roxas could tell from the way he studied Xion’s sleeping face that his train of thought had left Roxas entirely. His green eyes darted occasionally, as if reading something invisible, and Roxas watched him feel her pulse. Without an argument to feed it, Roxas’s temper ebbed away as quickly as it had overtaken him, and after a minute he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the other hand still holding his broken ice cream stick.

Vexen brushed a strand of Xion’s dark hair out of her face. She did not flinch, or show any sign that she’d felt the touch, and he felt her cheek with the back of his hand, frowning. Roxas watched him. As always, he had little idea of why Vexen was doing what he was doing, and knew that asking would create more questions than answers. Still, there was something oddly reassuring about watching him at work, even without knowing what he was up to. The rapidity with which he muttered and prodded at her spoke of a confidence about the situation that Roxas did not share, and he felt, watching, that some of it rubbed off onto him. Roxas himself might not understand, or be able to help, but someone else did and could. It was a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

“She’s lucky she’s got you, Vexen,” he said, watching Xion’s steady breathing. “If you weren’t here to help her…I don’t even wanna think about it.”

Vexen muttered something that Roxas didn’t quite catch; he seemed buried in thought, only aware of Roxas in the periphery of both his vision and his mind. Above the three of them, Kingdom Hearts shone silently, its cold light rippling once in a while, as if it were alive.

“I get what she meant now,” Roxas said at last, breaking the silence. “About you and her being connected.”

Vexen pulled himself out of his reverie, looking up.

“What are you talking about?”

“Xion always said that she felt connected to you somehow. Like you belonged to her. I never understood what she meant, but…I think it makes sense.”

“In what way?”

“You’re the whole reason she’s alive. That’s a kind of connection, right? Different than being friends or something. It’s special.”

“Do you really think so?”

“You don’t?” Roxas sounded surprised. “I mean, you made her. Aren’t you…I don’t know. Proud of her, or something?”

“I’m not proud of anything, Roxas. Not truly.”

“Oh. Right.” Roxas paused. “Well…I think she’s proud of you. She can be.”

Vexen did not reply.

The silence stretched on long enough for Roxas to realize just how tired he was after the day’s mission, and when he found himself blinking heavily every few seconds, he finally eased to his feet, announcing that he was going to bed. After some reflection, he set his broken ice cream stick on the windowsill beside the row of seashells. Vexen did not watch him go, absorbed as he was in his own writing.

For nearly half an hour, the only sounds were the scratch of a pen and Vexen’s low muttering to himself under his breath, snatches of thought fully formed in his mind but only half-articulated when they escaped. A string of clouds passed over the sky outside, blotting out the light of Kingdom Hearts at intervals, so that the room glowed and dimmed on a cycle that nevertheless did not break his concentration. Xion did not stir once.

When at last Vexen stood, he paused after gathering up his notes, as if realizing he’d forgotten something. Instead of hunting for a stray piece of paper, however, he studied Xion in the moonlight.

“Proud of me, are you?” He chuckled, his odd smile less cold than usual. “Tch. Silly girl. You really do have the strangest notions…”

She woke to the sound of muttering: low, indistinct, frustrated. Her head ached. She did not know how long she stayed suspended in the narrow band between waking and sleeping, but at some point the light above her rapped hard enough on her closed eyelids to make her finally groan and stir.

“Well! There you are. I was beginning to wonder whether I’d been wrong for once.”

Her head throbbed harder at the noise, but the pain didn’t last. Xion opened her eyes as it subsided, and the gray ceiling of the room came into focus. When she stirred, she felt something hard against her back, harder than the familiar firmness of her bed. The ceiling was different, too, and the chemical smell…This wasn’t her room. It was the lab.

She managed to sit up. Vexen was puttering away at something on a table nearby, and when he saw her trying to support herself, he set down what he was working on.

“You’ve just missed Roxas,” he told her. Though his manner was brisk as always, he looked pleased. “The boy’s been fretting. He’ll be glad to see you up.”

Xion winced. The lights gradually grew less overwhelmingly bright, and when she’d adjusted to them she twisted to look around, convincing herself that yes, this was the lab. White and gray and metal and glass, a faint chemical sting in the back of her throat when she breathed, and yet all of it reassured her more than her own bedroom would have done. She touched the side of her head again, steadying herself.

“What…happened to me? Why am I here?”

“You malfunctioned, if you can remember. You’ve been asleep for two weeks.”

“Malfunctioned?” It came to her even as she said it: the Heartless, the fall, the darkness closing around her mind. “I…didn’t mean to pass out like that. I don’t know what happened. I was doing fine the whole mission, and then all of a sudden everything just…” She shook her head, then realized something and looked up, startled. “Wait, if I was out for two weeks, then—am I in trouble? Did you get in trouble?”

“Somewhat.” Off of her worried look, he added, “Not severely, that’s no concern. Although Saïx has certainly been breathing down my neck.”

Xion tried to slide off the table and stand up, discovering when she did that her body was too weak to support her. She would have buckled to the floor of the lab had Vexen not caught her by her hood, like a cat holding a kitten by the scruff of the neck.

“Don’t be hasty, girl. You’ve been unconscious a long while. Be sensible and test yourself slowly.”

Her next, tentative effort to support her own weight went better, though she still had to hold on to the side of the table while her legs found strength. Vexen let go of her hood, and she wobbled, but stayed standing.

“What have I missed?” she asked, as feeling returned to her legs. “Did anything important happen?”

“Not to my knowledge. Roxas has been doing your work on heart collection in addition to his own. But there’s been nothing out of the ordinary beyond that.” He put a hand on top of her head, bending down to peer keenly into her face. “I’ve had quite a lot of bother waking you up.”

“You mean—you fixed me again?” Xion brightened. “Thank you!”

He laughed, letting go of her and turning away.

“Well, who else was going to do it? You really do have the strangest notions at times…”

“Do you know what happened to me?” she asked. As he crossed the lab, she followed close behind, like an unsteady shadow. “Is it going to happen again?”

“I have a theory.” Vexen reached one of the bookshelves along the wall and hunted for a volume, Xion still at his side. “But I want to hear your hypothesis first. What do you think happened?”

“My hypothesis? Why?”

“You’re the patient, as it were. You have data that I don’t.” He pulled out a logbook and flipped through it until he reached a mostly blank page, readying a pencil. “What do you remember of the incident?”

Haltingly, she recalled everything she could, including the fierce battle with a mob of Heartless that she’d finally reduced to one before passing out, and Vexen took notes as she spoke, occasionally making her go back and clarify something she’d already said. When she finished he seemed displeased, and frowned as he tapped the eraser of his pencil onto the paper.

“The situation itself doesn’t seem unusual at all,” he concluded. “Which means that the catalyst for your episode almost certainly wasn’t anything to do with you. It was probably sheer coincidence that it occurred while you were out on a mission.”

“What caused it, then?”

Vexen gave her a keen look.

“Tell me your thoughts first. I wasn’t joking earlier, you know. I’d like to hear your hypothesis about what happened.”

Xion steeled herself and thought hard, digging through what little she could remember of the mission and the long, dark aftermath. Somehow the mission felt long ago, as if some part of her had kept track of the time that had passed, even in sleep. And as for the sleep itself…She couldn’t remember hearing Roxas talk to her, as Vexen had said he’d done, nor could she remember any of what Vexen had done to fix her. But there were still faint impressions there, flitting in and out of the roiling darkness.

“I don’t know why I fainted,” she said at last. “But I know that when I was asleep, I dreamed the whole time. It was about Sora…Or, I guess, it was all Sora’s memories. I can’t remember everything exactly, but there was so much happening, so many things kept going through me…It felt like I was drowning in it.” She looked up at Vexen. “I’ve never had any dream as strong all of that. It wasn’t just seeing what happened. It was like…like it was all happening all over again, and I was really a part of it. When Sora gave up his heart to save his friend…the one who looks like me…I felt all these things mixed together that Sora felt when it happened. Happy and sad and scared and determined, all at the same time.”

Vexen pondered this, though it didn’t seem to surprise him.

“It’s just as I thought, then. Sora’s stray memories had begun to interfere with your baseline stability.”

“Stability?”

“The full explanation is too technical for you to comprehend. But to summarize: you’re continuing to siphon off Sora’s memories from Roxas as he receives them. I had thought I’d put an end to that, but apparently the process isn’t reversible from this side alone. You and Roxas are conjoined, in some sense.”

“Can you fix me so that it won’t happen anymore?”

“That remains to be seen. I’ve done my best, but we need to perform some tests. The best thing to do would simply be to get you back in the field and see whether any more issues develop, and under what conditions.”

He wouldn’t let her dart off at once (“a fine thing it would be if you swooned and fell down the stairs”), so Xion sat cross-legged on a stool, watching him fuss about the lab, putting away scattered equipment and samples before setting himself across from her at the workbench and starting to write on whatever he’d been working on just before she woke. Xion did not help him put things away, though she wanted to; she still felt weak, and staying seated helped.

“I’m sorry you had to drop everything to fix me,” she told Vexen, watching him work. “You’re always so busy…You probably had to stop in the middle of an important experiment.”

“You are my most important experiment.” He paused long enough to reach across the table and poke her nose sternly with the eraser of his pencil, making her start. “I told you, your functionality is my responsibility. It’s no more complicated than that.”

Xion smiled tiredly and watched him keep writing, hunched low over his notes as if afraid someone might reach across the table and steal them. As always, he seemed wholly absorbed in his own thoughts, and the sight of it was strangely reassuring. Part of her wanted to be scared of what had just happened to her—what if it happened again?—and yet here the lab was, unchanged, and here she was, unhurt, and here he was, no more concerned than if she’d fallen and scraped her knee. Vexen knew everything about how she worked. If he wasn’t upset, there was no reason for her to be, either.

“Vexen?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really glad you made me. You didn’t have to.”

“I rather did, actually.”

“Well…I’m still glad.” She meant it. “I know it was a lot of work, and…I like being alive.”

“Do you? That puts you ahead of the rest of us, then.”

“What do you mean?” But she answered her own question. “Oh, because you don’t have hearts. So I guess you don’t like anything at all. You’re just pretending. Right?”

Vexen’s only answer was an odd, puzzled look, half-smiling.

“I don’t know if I could do that,” Xion admitted. “Pretending so many things all the time would be hard.”

“It can be tiresome, yes. But like any habit, it’s gotten easier with time. Sometimes I even begin to suspect…Well.” He gave a clipped sigh. “No matter. Certainly I’m not who I was.”

He resumed working. Xion tilted her head, as if this new angle might help her decipher his handwriting, but it didn’t.

“To be honest, it sounds kind of nice sometimes,” she admitted. “Not having a heart, I mean. No matter what happens, you never get scared, or sad…Do you?”

“My subjective experience of such things isn’t something I contemplate any longer, Xion.”

“Oh.” Xion pondered this. “Well…I guess the downside is, you never feel happy either. Even when something good happens. Like when you discover something new, or when you do something important. It’s all the same.”

Instead of confirming this, Vexen hesitated. She sat up straighter, interested.

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” he admitted. “There have been instances—few and far between, mind—that I would almost call…enjoyable.”

“Like what?”

“The day I completed you comes to mind.”

Xion looked surprised.

“Wait, really? I made you happy?”

“Happy?” Vexen mused. “Mmm…no. Not in the way I remember being able to be when I was human. But in all the years since, I think finishing you and the other one was the closest I’ve ever come. Intellectually, I was…very satisfied, that day. I had accomplished something phenomenal, against great odds. I suppose it was as rewarding as anything we do can be.” He looked to her. “How are you feeling now?”

This time she had no trouble standing, and when she’d satisfied herself that she could walk without much effort, she hugged him in thanks, making him make a noise of exasperation, though he did not peel her away.

“That’s quite enough,” he said when she let go. “If you’re really that spry, you ought to head off to bed. You still need ordinary rest, and I assured Saïx you’d be ready for work in the morning. I don’t want to have to rescind that statement.”

“So I’ll have a mission tomorrow?”

“As long as you’re up to the task. But I’ll make sure it’s nothing too strenuous. I don’t want you overexerting yourself before you’re fully recovered.”

“I feel okay,” Xion assured him. “Just weak.”

“Sleep should help.” He gave her a nudge towards the door. “Come along. I’ll make sure you get to your room.”

“You were asleep for a long time.” Roxas handed her the change from his ice cream run, settling onto the edge of the clock tower. “Two weeks straight. Me and Vexen were worried.”

Xion bit into the ice cream with a flourish, the familiar salty sweetness a welcome treat. Even though she couldn’t remember the time she’d been asleep, it still felt like she hadn’t had ice cream in a while.

“So…did I miss anything while I was out?”

“Not really.” Roxas shrugged. “I covered for you on collecting hearts. It was kinda tough, but I made it work. I didn’t go to any new worlds or anything…Same old same old, I guess.” He took a bite of ice cream, saying around it, “I saw Sora a few times, though. That’s happening more often lately.”

“He seems like he’s losing more memories,” Xion said. “That’s all I dreamed about while I was asleep—things that happened to Sora.”

They ate their ice cream as the low sun crept lower under the line of the distant mountains, Roxas regaling Xion with tales of the missions he’d run in her absence. There wasn’t actually that much to say, but he made an effort to spin stories out of them nonetheless, just so he could hear her laugh. He’d missed that the most.

Tonight the heat of the sunset seemed more intense to Roxas, penetrating his coat, so that he felt a strange but pleasant warmth on the inside as well as out. Xion was here, sitting beside him, seemingly as healthy and well as she’d always been, and the weight he’d felt inside since he’d first heard she was hurt had dissolved away into nothing the longer they talked and laughed.

Something in this must have shown on his face, because Xion smiled more than usual, as if to reassure him, and finally asked, after a lull in the conversation, “Roxas…were you really that worried about me while I was asleep?”

“Yeah! Super worried.” He realized what he’d said, and added lamely, “Well…I guess not. Since I can’t worry for real. But I don’t know the difference anyway.”

“It’s okay.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It was nice of you either way.”

“To be worried?”

“Yeah.”

Roxas shrugged, unsure how to reply, and finished his ice cream while a tram rolled into the station below them, its windows glinting one by one as the elevated track brought each car through the path of the sunset. Roxas had known many bites ago that this ice cream was another dud, but seeing the whole stick devoid of writing somehow made it official. As people trickled out into the plaza below, he sighed and pocketed the stick to throw away later.

“Something wrong with your ice cream?” Xion asked him.

“No. I was hoping I’d get another special one, that’s all.”

“Special one?”

“Yeah—didn’t I tell you?” He pulled the stick out again, showing it to her. “Sometimes you get a stick that says ‘winner’ on it. The shop said that if you bring it back to them, you get a free ice cream. I got one right when I first started coming here, and I’ve been holding on to it ever since.”

“A winner, huh?” Xion looked at her own almost-finished ice cream, the stick of which was blank. “I’ve never seen one.”

“I think they’re pretty rare. But I’m saving mine until I get three, so you and me and Vexen can all get free ice cream together.”

“Neat.” Xion beamed. “If I ever get one, I’ll give it to you.”

Only a third of the sun still hovered above the horizon, huge and red, and as it drifted lower the sky began to darken to purple above them, leaving only the horizon as a thick band of orange and pink. Roxas counted the colors as a tram whistled in the distance. A few of the lights in the houses below sputtered on, like a constellation of stars that had fallen to earth but refused to give up their routine. As Roxas stared at the sky, he idly remembered Vexen’s explanation, circles in the sand with lines drawn through them. Wavelengths, angles, refraction. Why the sun set red. He sighed happily, leaning back on his hands, smiling at nothing.

Everything was right again. He wasn’t up here alone, and Xion was okay, and even the sunset made sense. The only thing that didn’t fit into place was…

“I wish we knew where Sora was,” Roxas said aloud. “What if he hurts you again?”

“You get affected by him too,” Xion pointed out. “Even more than I do. And it’s not Sora’s fault, really. He’s not doing it on purpose.”

“It is his fault. If he wasn’t losing his memories in the first place, none of this would be happening. Why can’t he just keep them all like he’s supposed to? Or why couldn’t I just have all of them to begin with? Sora shouldn’t even exist.” Roxas shook his head. “This whole thing’s a mess. First me, then you…It’s really screwing with us both.”

“Vexen will figure it all out.”

Roxas heaved another sigh. A tram whistled as it left the station below, and the sound made him smile. One more reason to like Twilight Town: Sora had seemingly never been here, and none of these sounds and sights that Roxas valued so much ever triggered a flash of unwanted memory. No invisible footsteps to follow, here. This world was his place.

“Yeah, you’re right. Vexen will figure it out. He always does.”

Day 186: Back to Work

It’s hard to get back into the swing of things after being asleep for so long. I still get tired easily, but Vexen says it will wear off soon.

Even though I failed my last mission, I want to work as hard as I can to complete Kingdom Hearts. Not for me…I have a kind of heart already. But it’s not fair that I get to feel happy sometimes, and Roxas and Vexen never really do. Someday I want all three of us to feel happy, all together at once.

Chapter Text

“I can’t really describe it,” Roxas admitted. “Once she sprinkles you, just think ‘I can fly,’ and boom!”

Xion beamed, watching Roxas levitate a yard off of the rock, pixie dust sparkling on his coat like stars in the night sky. The blonde fairy zigzagged between the three of them, an energetic firefly, and when she circled Vexen’s head he scowled and swatted her away, the end of his long sleeve nearly grazing her. She made a rude gesture that he did not notice.

“See, Vexen?” Roxas told him, swooping to hover over his head. “I told you so.”

“I stand corrected,” Vexen said, folding his arms. “But you’ve proven your case—now you two ought to accomplish your mission objective. What were you sent here for again? Heartless-hunting, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, come on.” Roxas veered a few feet higher into the air, wobbling when he stopped, as if he had to balance himself somehow. “Have you ever flown before?”

“That’s hardly the point.”

“I want to try!” Xion told the fairy. “Er, if that’s okay? Please?”

The fairy rolled her eyes, but a sprinkle of golden glitter landed on Xion’s head anyway. She ran a hand through her hair, catching the dust and rubbing it across her shoulders for good measure.

“You just have to think about it?” she asked Roxas. He floated closer.

“Yeah. It’s like—you gotta believe you can do it, and then all of a sudden you can. It’s magic.”

“Okay.” Xion closed her eyes, her fists balling at her sides with the force of her concentration. “I think I can fly.”

“Not think,” Roxas insisted. “You gotta really believe it. Say I can fly. ”

“I can fly!”

“Yeah, like that. Just keep thinking that really hard.”

“This is absurd,” Vexen said, but his cynicism was not enough to stop Xion from levitating. Roxas caught her hand and pulled her higher, making her laugh.

“I can fly! Vexen, look! I’m flying!”

“Yes, I can see that, thank you.” Vexen looked oddly sour, perhaps because his claim that this feat was vanishingly improbable had been proven wrong twice in two minutes. “It’s entertaining, I’m sure. Now will you both stop this nonsense at once? You have a mission, don’t you?”

“You’re just jealous,” Roxas grinned.

“Oh, is that what you think? I’ll have you know that I’m in no hurry to test foreign spells on myself. We don’t know the first thing about the side effects.”

“You have to try this, Vexen!” Xion insisted. “It’s amazing!”

She pulled on the shoulder of his coat as if to lift him up with her, but he remained firmly earthbound. When Xion scraped some pixie dust off of her collar and sprinkled it on him, the nearby fairy finished the job, and the shower of dust made Vexen sneeze.

“Look, just give it a shot,” said Roxas. “It’s worth it.”

“I’m quite happy obeying gravity, thank you.”

“C’mon, Vexen, try it. Believe me on this.”

“Yeah,” Xion insisted. “Just try it. Please?”

They floated away, enticing him to follow, but Vexen only looked irritated.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Never mind your foolhardiness in fraternizing with a local. We don’t know the first thing about this world’s brand of magic. How long do the effects of this substance last? Is the decline in the spell’s efficacy gradual, or does it end abruptly? Even assuming there are no ill effects, if it wears off while you’re more than a few feet above the ground, you’re bound to—are you two even listening to me? Roxas! Xion!”

They were well above him now, playing tag on invisible wings, laughing.

“Get back down here! The both of you, this instant!”

They circled each other as if they’d heard, but did not fly lower. Vexen waved at them, and Xion waved back, while Roxas seemed to be communicating with the fairy that had followed them up into the sky. Vexen could see her only as a sparkle near Roxas’s head, but after some gesturing from Roxas, the sparkle circled him several times and zoomed away like a shooting star.

“She needs our help, Vexen!” came Roxas’s voice, high and distant. Xion’s followed it.

“Yeah, she wants us to go check out that ship over there!”

“We’ll see you when we RTC!”

“Both of you! Come down at once!”

But they were gone, lost to sight inside a fluffy cloud, using it as cover as they soared towards the ship moored on the other side of the bay. Vexen fumed, but could do nothing more, marooned as he was on an island of bare rock far from the side of the bay where the pirate ship floated. He huffed and made as if to summon a portal, then hesitated, considering.

Vexen grimaced, then muttered to himself and closed his eyes. Nothing happened.

He tried again, muttering harder, and even jumped an inch—nothing. The pixie dust in his hair glittered, and he caught a few sprinkles in his palm, frowning at them with one eye squinted, as if he could determine something about them just by staring hard enough. Scowling, he brushed his glove off on his coat and tried once more.

Standing all alone on the bare rock in his black coat, hopping on occasion, he looked from a distance like an overgrown penguin that was trying to defy years of evolution and take to the skies. Once he thought he felt a tiny bit lighter, but he still came back down after an exploratory jump, nearly losing his balance and tumbling sideways into the surf.

He spent a good ten minutes experimenting with different techniques, trying to fly. He never did succeed.

It was late—or at least, it felt late to the two of them with night almost completely fallen—but fortunately the ice cream shop was still open, and its neon light guided them through the darkening streets of downtown Twilight Town. As they approached, the girl behind the counter gave them a wave and ducked down to the freezer, recognizing their coats and knowing what they were on their way to order. By the time she popped back into view, however, a boy with a headband had already beaten them to the counter, jogging up and clutching a stitch in his side. The twilight was so deep that Xion and Roxas couldn’t see him as anything more than a vague shape until he reached the light of the shopfront.

“Three…sea salt ice creams…please!” the boy wheezed, as Roxas and Xion came up behind him. He rummaged in his pockets for munny, counting it out in his palm. “Aw, man, I’m late again…”

His eyes widened as the girl plunked the bag of ice cream on the counter and rang it up, and he rifled through all of his pockets before groaning and hanging his head.

“No way! I thought I grabbed it...”

“Three sea salts?” the counter girl said. The boy with the headband counted out his munny onto the countertop.

“Just two,” he sighed. “I forgot my wallet. No ice cream for me tonight, I guess.”

A black glove set another handful of munny onto the counter, pushing it against the boy’s small pile, as though adding to a stack of poker chips.

“We’ll pay for it,” Xion said, to Roxas’s surprise.

The boy looked as surprised as Roxas, but broke into a grin.

“Really? Wow, big thanks! I’ll spot you one sometime, I promise.”

“It’s no big deal,” Xion said brightly, as the woman rang up his purchase. “Ice cream is important.”

The boy laughed, rubbing the back of his head. Roxas bought an ice cream, and the boy followed them a few feet away from the ice cream stand. The world around them suddenly blazed as all the street lamps came on at once.

“Well, I really owe you one.” He appraised them in the lamplight. “You know, I’ve seen you guys around town a few times, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at school. What class are you in? I’m Pence, in 5A.”

“Class?” Roxas blinked. “Uh…”

“We don’t go to school,” said Xion.

“Oh, you’re homeschooled? That’s cool. My cousin is homeschooled.”

Roxas mouthed ‘what’s homeschooled?’ over Pence’s shoulder at Xion, who shrugged. Pence did not seem to notice their confusion.

“Funky raincoats,” he was saying. “Where’d you get ‘em?”

“It’s not a raincoat,” said Roxas. “More like a uniform.”

“Uniform? I thought you guys were homeschooled?”

Xion and Roxas were spared the necessity of patching this hole in their story by the arrival of another boy and a girl, their approach heralded by calls and the sound of footsteps. When they reached the circle of light in front of the ice cream stand, they were revealed to be the same age as Pence.

“Hey, man!” the boy called. “There you are! What’s the holdup already?”

“We thought you bailed on us!” said the girl. “It’s practically dark.”

“Sorry, guys. Band practice ran late again.”

“Yeah, no kidding!” The new boy sounded exasperated. “That concert better be the best thing ever. You guys have been rehearsing your butts off!”

“Tell me about it.” Pence laughed and handed the bag of ice cream to the girl, saying, “I forgot half my munny at home, so these guys chipped in. Pretty cool of them, huh?”

“Oh. Thanks a lot!” The girl smiled at them, her brown curls bouncing. “Are you in the school band with Pence?”

“Nah,” said Pence, “we just bumped into each other. They’re homeschooled.”

This seemed to be interesting news, as the newcomers automatically fanned out to better assess Roxas and Xion.

“Homeschooled, huh?” The new boy sized them up, fists on hips. “No wonder I don’t recognize you. Name’s Hayner.”

“I’m Olette,” said the girl. “And that was really nice of you. We’ll have to pay you back sometime.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roxas insisted. “We should, er, probably get going…”

“What’s the rush?” Hayner demanded. “It’s not like you’ve gotta be on time for class tomorrow, right?”

“Hayner!” Olette said sternly. “Don’t be rude. I bet they have to start at a certain time just like we do.”

Hayner rolled his eyes, waving away this technicality.

“Whatever…Well, if you two ever wanna have some real fun instead of hitting the books at home, you should come hang out at the sandlot. I can show you my awesome grandstander moves.” He hit his chest with a thumb. “Best in town right here!”

“Seifer still has the record,” Pence pointed out.

“Yeah, barely! I’ll beat him this semester and take my title back, just you wait.”

“That’s what you said last semester…”

“Hey, enough from the peanut gallery!”

Olette laughed as Hayner and Pence squabbled, and Roxas and Xion exchanged looks, unsure whether they were expected to laugh as well. Hayner hit his palm with a fist.

“I mean it. I’m gonna knock Seifer down a few pegs. If I don’t beat his record next go-around, I’ll buy us all ice cream for a week.”

“You’d better not say that,” Olette warned, “because me and Pence won’t forget. Pence, you wanna get that in writing?”

“Way ahead of you.”

Pence produced a notepad from his back pocket with a flourish. Hayner groaned and stomped away a few paces, fuming to himself.

“Don’t mind Hayner,” Olette told Roxas and Xion. “He’s always like this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hayner balked.

The three kids bantered. Roxas and Xion looked at each other again, totally bewildered, and when Xion nudged Roxas and jerked her head, he nodded, understanding.

“We’ve gotta get going,” Roxas announced. “We’re…uh, usually back before now.”

“Yeah?” Pence asked—and then added, with sudden alarm, “So did you tell your parents you’d be out late?”

“Our what?” Roxas asked. Xion blinked.

“Um…no. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think your dad is out looking for you.” Pence pointed behind them with his ice cream. “That’s the same brand of raincoat, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

But there was no mistaking the lanky figure storming their way from up a steep side street, his coat flapping at the hem and sleeves, making the shadow he cast under the street lamps look like a flailing bird. By the time Vexen crested the hill, snippets of sound began to reach them—his usual muttering at a much higher volume, distance compressing it into a sort of low-grade screech. The sight of an irate adult headed their way made the Twilight Town kids bunch together.

“We gotta go,” said Roxas.

“Sure thing.” Hayner, Pence, and Olette waved at them and hurried away, Pence calling back, “Thanks again!” before they were out of sight around a corner. Vexen’s loud fuming preceded his arrival.

“—audacity of it—I hope you two have a very good explanation—”

There was no point delaying the inevitable, so Roxas and Xion met him halfway, his tall frame casting a shadow over them in the light of the nearest streetlamp. Outside of the islands of light around the lamps, night had fallen in earnest.

“There you two are. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“What’s there to say?” Roxas asked.

“Don’t get fresh with me. And what was that all about?” He jabbed an arm toward the side street down which Hayner, Pence, and Olette had disappeared. “Surely, surely you two know better than to rub elbows with the locals?”

“We didn’t tell them anything,” said Roxas. “They thought we were just some random kids.”

“I’m disappointed in you both. I had thought I taught you better. We run a covert operation, did you forget that?”

“We were buying your ice cream.” Xion held up the plastic bag as evidence. “We had a mission together today, and it took forever. We didn’t even get to the clock tower until—”

“I don’t want excuses. Do either of you realize how late it is at the castle? Both of you should have RTC’d hours ago. I turned the whole place upside-down and no one had the faintest idea where you were.”

“Why does it matter?” Roxas asked. “It’s not like the Organization has a curfew.”

“It’s common courtesy!” Vexen fumed. “How was I to deduce why you hadn’t come back on schedule? For all I knew, you could have been injured on your mission today and unable to return. Xion could have malfunctioned again. Or you both could have been outright destroyed.”

“You’re just mad that we didn’t come bring you any ice cream,” said Roxas.

“Excuse me? That is not the point—”

But Xion started giggling at his consternation, and Roxas grinned as he fished in the grocery bag for the stick of sea salt ice cream, holding it out invitingly as the three of them started walking past a row of empty but well-lit shops.

“Don’t worry, Vexen, we didn’t forget about you. We were just running a little late today, that’s all.”

“Give me that.” He snatched the ice cream out of Roxas’s hand. “‘A little late’ indeed. I’d hate to see what you think it is to be actually tardy.”

“Were you really that worried about us?” Xion asked.

“Worried? Hah! Don’t be ridiculous.” Vexen bit into his ice cream ferociously. It muffled his voice, making his tirade less intimidating than he perhaps realized. “I’m aware that your mission schedule is variable. But if you’re going to RTC this late, the least you can do is send word along with the Dusks. Gifted as I am, I’m no psychic.”

They followed him, not really listening to his complaining, so that it became only background noise for an otherwise pleasant stroll through the gloaming streets of Twilight Town. They’d never seen the shadows this long and deep, nor been down among the houses while the street lamps were ablaze and golden light spilled from every open window; the place had a different atmosphere at night, sleepy but still warm and inviting, like a cat curled up and purring. The locals they passed on the sidewalk seemed to have no fear of the burgeoning darkness, talking and laughing as easily as if it were midday. As they passed a group of young women, Xion nudged Roxas and pointed back up the way they’d come, towards the clock tower rising in the distance. He turned.

Now that night had fallen, the whole tower had been lit up, shining like a lighthouse at the crest of the hill. The spotlights that crowned it flickered between red and gold, and though the evening trams had rows of white lights along their sides, the tracks themselves weren’t illuminated, leaving the elevated tram cars gliding across the sky seemingly unsupported, like gilded ghosts.

“What are you two gaping at?”

Vexen stormed up from behind them, and Xion pointed up at the clock tower. All he did was snort derisively.

“Yes, yes, quite a spectacle. Now keep moving, if you please.”

They rounded a corner that brought them to their first completely deserted stretch of street, and Vexen summoned a dark portal that seemed to absorb the light from the street lamps, giving its blackness an eerie depth, as if a chunk of the night sky had fallen down into the road. He jabbed his ice cream at it, like a teacher pointing at an especially punishing question on the blackboard.

“I hope you realize how displeased I am with you both. If you ever pull a stunt like this again, there will be consequences.”

“Seriously? What did you think happened to us?” Roxas asked. “Me and Xion are tougher than any Heartless.”

“How was I to know?” Vexen snapped. “Anything could have happened, Heartless or no Heartless. For all I knew, you could have fallen into the sewer.”

“How would that even—”

“And died,” Vexen said fiercely, “alone, in the sewer. Now both of you come home.”

He shoved them towards the portal, muttering indignantly. Xion and Roxas had to fight not to laugh.

“Y’know, Vexen,  for someone who wasn’t worried about us, you’re pretty upset...”

Each new mission put Roxas and Xion’s early days of confusion a little further behind them, and life—if they could be said to have lives—took on a rhythm that was almost pleasant. Its consistency gave them solid ground on which to stand and look ahead, and more and more often, Roxas and Xion found themselves speculating on what might lie around the next corner of their so-called existence. Beyond the constant culling of Heartless and the occasional glimpse of Sora, the growing strength of Kingdom Hearts alluded to a whole new way of being that would be theirs sooner or later. Every day’s mission that they completed brought it closer…whatever it was.

“You think we’ll still have to do missions and stuff?” Roxas wondered one evening on the clock tower. “I mean, if we’re killing all these Heartless to make Kingdom Hearts, then once we have it, it seems like we won’t have anything left to do every day.”

“Maybe we’ll still have to do recon?”

“How much recon can there be, though? And what’s the point of recon if we won’t have to keep hiding from people?”

“You’re right. I guess we’ll have lots of…” Xion paused. “Free time?”

They looked at each other.

“I can handle a few hours at the end of the day,” said Roxas slowly, “but—all day, every day? That’s way too much.”

“Hard to imagine,” Xion agreed, through a mouthful of ice cream. She swallowed and added, “But I bet we’ll figure something out. Vexen doesn’t do missions, and he’s still busy every day.”

“Yeah, with research. But what kind of stuff would you and me do? What do normal people do?”

“Kids like us go to school, don’t they? At least on some worlds.”

“I guess so.” Roxas thought through everything Vexen had told them about this particular institution. “So if you and I did that, then we’d spend all day just…hanging out with other kids, learning stuff.”

They pondered this novel possibility together. It was even harder to imagine than having nothing to do at all.

“I don’t know, Roxas,” Xion said at last. “It sounds nice, but…We just don’t know enough about it. What if school’s really hard?”

“Can’t be harder than fighting Heartless, can it?” Roxas began warming up to the idea. “And learning stuff would come in pretty handy too. We wouldn’t have to bother Vexen.”

“But I like bothering him.”

Roxas snorted, smiling.

“Well—okay, we’d still bother him. But not as much. And if what we had to learn at school was really complicated, he could help us out.”

Xion wiped a drizzle of melted ice cream from her chin.

“Did Sora go to school? I don’t think I’ve ever dreamed about it.”

“I dunno. I can’t remember ever seeing anything like that, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. Besides, it doesn’t matter. We can do whatever we want.”

Below them, a group of kids laughed and played in the station plaza, some kicking a rubber ball between them and some tossing a frisbee back and forth. This last trio caught Xion’s attention, as she recognized the headband one of the boys wore.

“Hey, look, Roxas. It’s those kids we met last week.”

“Oh yeah.” He leaned forward to peer between his dangling boots, watching Olette lob the frisbee over Hayner’s head. “That’s the kind of people we’d be around if we went to a school, huh?”

Hayner dove for the frisbee and crashed into the side of the clock tower trying to catch it, making Olette and Pence double up with laughter even as they ran to see if he was okay.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind,” Roxas concluded, as Hayner scrambled to his feet and threw the frisbee back into play before his friends could even reach him. “They seemed all right.”

He and Xion watched the rest of the match. Pence focused on accuracy, Olette always sent it high, and Hayner pushed himself to catch even the most unreachable of throws, sometimes eating the pavement as a result but always scrambling to his feet and brushing himself off right away. There didn’t seem to be any rules to the game, except that letting the frisbee hit the ground was a foul, and more difficult catches earned more points—presuming a point system existed, which wasn’t entirely clear. It wasn’t like any training exercise they’d ever seen.

As they watched, a particularly ambitious toss from Olette veered off-course and caught an updraft from the opening of the tram station’s front doors, buoying the frisbee so high that it ricocheted off the minute hand of the clock tower before hitting the front steps and rolling away like a coin. Pence chased after it, but Hayner and Olette’s attention had been drawn up the face of the tower, and Hayner elbowed Olette and pointed up at Roxas and Xion sitting on top of the clock.

“They see us!” Xion said, sitting up straighter as Pence rejoined his friends with the frisbee. But the three kids didn’t look alarmed. Hayner yelled something at them that they couldn’t make out, grinning, and Xion hesitated before raising her half-eaten ice cream over the edge of the clock tower, as if this were some kind of reply. Apparently, it counted. Olette and Pence waved, and Xion waved back.

“Aren’t we not supposed to talk to them?” Roxas asked.

“We’re not,” Xion said wryly, taking another bite of ice cream. Roxas laughed, and when Hayner yelled again he waved, making Hayner grin wider and give him a thumbs-up. The ‘conversation’ ended when Pence hurled the frisbee again.

“School can’t be too much to handle,” Xion decided, as they scattered. “Those three go to it, and they seem pretty happy.”

“Yeah.” Roxas watched them head towards the tram gateway and took a thoughtful bite of his ice cream. “Honestly, it doesn’t sound half bad.”

“No, girl, that one goes over there. They’re numbered, for goodness’s sake.”

Xion dutifully wedged the heavy logbook between two others, the whole shelf creaking in protest. A book that had been only halfway shoved in popped out of place, hitting the floor with a loud smack.

“You’re so messy,” Roxas said, kicking at a stack of papers that had spilled over the floor of the lab. “How do you keep track of all this stuff?”

“I have a system.”

“This is a system? Based on what, chaos theory?”

“Oh, very funny.” Vexen thwacked Roxas on the head with a handful of loose papers. “You two asked for something to amuse yourselves with this evening? Well, this ought to keep you occupied. Make yourselves useful for once.”

Xion scooped up a handful of papers, stacking them neatly together, unable to tell what order they should be in but sorting them so that none were upside-down. Roxas used a pile of books as a stool to reach the top shelf, returning one of the books from the floor to its home, but when he stepped down off of the pile, the books all slid apart, scattering. Xion picked up one of the logs that had been at the bottom, flipping through it.

“Hey Vexen, what’s this? It says ‘Replica Program.’”

Vexen spared the book a glance.

“Nothing significant. Some of my earliest draft notes, concept studies…Perhaps there are some preliminary case logs as well. But most of my Program materials are still in the Castle Oblivion lab. I haven’t had need of them.”

Xion skimmed the book with interest, but nothing caught her eye. It was an unintelligible mess of numbers and Vexen’s cramped handwriting, peppered with what seemed to be anatomical diagrams or illustrations. These were surprisingly good, if Vexen was the one who’d drawn them. She ran a finger around the rim of a simple eyeball that had been sketched in cross-section next to a much more complicated one, as if for comparison.

“Do you have anything around here about me?”

“I believe so, but I don’t know where. Hence the need for spring cleaning.”

Soon she found another stray volume that had what she sought. Most of the logbook was taken up with copies of printouts from machines, and with Vexen’s shorthand notes to himself that she could only decipher scattered words of, so she focused on the images—some of them drawings like a head or a hand, others either photographs or something equally realistic that showed a pale shape floating in a vat of green liquid. It looked like an alien, or a hard-skinned mannequin, and had only the barest semblance of a face.

“Was this really me?” she asked, running her thumb over the image. “It doesn’t look like me at all.”

“Of course it doesn’t. You weren’t anywhere near finished at this point.” He glanced over, then tapped the photo taped to the page. “And that’s the other one, the first model. This one over here is you.”

“How can you tell which one was Xion?” Roxas asked, as Vexen moved away. “They look the same.”

“To you, perhaps. But I built them both.”

Roxas and Xion soon abandoned their task of reorganizing the bookshelf, and Vexen grumbled as he began to finish the job, though he looked less annoyed than might have been expected—perhaps because now there was no danger of either of them putting something in the wrong place. Roxas and Xion sat on the floor, side-by-side with their backs to the bookshelf, sharing the logbook between them.

“I don’t know why you two are so fascinated by such old data,” Vexen said. The hem of his long coat brushed against them as he paced back and forth in front of the bookshelf, rearranging volumes. “At that stage there wasn’t anything about you worth mentioning.”

“It’s still interesting.” Xion tilted her head, as if a new angle might make the photo more relatable. “They’re like my baby pictures.”

This made Vexen laugh.

“An odd way of putting it, but perhaps that’s not incorrect.” He laughed again. “You really do have the strangest notions sometimes. ‘Baby pictures,’ hah…”

Xion shifted the book to Roxas’s lap so he could see better.

“What do you think, Roxas? Did I look weird?”

“Yeah, definitely. Like one of those creepy dolls.”

This earned him a punch on the shoulder.

“Even I know that was the wrong answer, boy,” came Vexen’s amused voice, as Roxas and Xion teased each other.

Vexen had apparently found something of interest to himself, and settled at a desk with two of the misplaced logbooks, copying something out of each one onto a fresh sheet of paper. He did not look up as Roxas and Xion kept talking, though something in his posture suggested that he was keeping half an ear on their conversation behind him. Roxas flipped through the book, focusing on the images as Xion had done, since none of the text made any sense to him. The only exceptions were the occasional margin notes that could miraculously be deciphered, but they weren’t very informative, as they mostly seemed like cross-references and Vexen’s mental notes to himself.

“I guess you don’t have anything like this, huh?” Xion asked Roxas, watching him turn the page. “Stuff from before you existed?”

Roxas shrugged.

“Well, my ‘baby pictures’ would just be pictures of Sora, wouldn’t they? That’s kind of boring…I don’t even look like him.” He passed the book back to Xion. “Hey, Vexen, what about you? Do you have any pictures of yourself from before?”

“Before what? The Organization? No.” Vexen did not look up as he answered. “As far as I know, nothing of the sort survived. And they wouldn’t be of interest in any case. I looked exactly the same as a person.”

“Aw. Too bad.”

“I still would’ve liked to see you,” Xion said. “Maybe you did look different and you just can’t tell.”

“Possible, but unlikely. And as I said, I’ve no photographs from any point in my human life—adulthood or childhood or anything else.”

“Childhood?” Roxas sat up straighter. “Hang on, you had a childhood?”

“Of course. Why in the worlds would you think otherwise? I’ve explained human development to you more than once.”

“Yeah, but…I dunno. It’s really hard to imagine you being a kid.”

“Well, you’ll have to make do with imagining it, as I’ve no evidence to show you.” He sniffed. “Suffice to say it was a long time ago.”

He reapplied himself to whatever he was doing, and Roxas and Xion explored the rest of the logbook, though they found little else they could appreciate. Xion kept returning to the project photos in fascination, staring hard at them as if trying to see herself in either of the eerie figures.

“It’s hard to believe that this was me,” she said, touching the page. “But…I guess real people look gross before they’re born, too.”

“Maybe.” Roxas tilted his head to better study the photo. “But it’s weird to see you before you were you. I don’t have anything like that. I just kinda…happened, I guess. Nothing came before.”

“You are an exceptional case,” came Vexen’s voice. Though still bent over his notes and sitting with his back to them, he was apparently listening. “Fascinatingly so. The circumstances of your creation are unique, as far as I know.”

“You mean, with Sora having his friend’s heart in him and everything?” Roxas had heard this story already. “Yeah, I know that doesn’t happen every day.”

“When you think about it,” Xion said, “it’s pretty lucky.”

“Lucky how?”

“It means you get to be you.” She set the logbook aside. “If all that stuff hadn’t happened to Sora, then he would have made a normal Nobody. You would have had all his memories when you were born, so you wouldn’t even be you, you’d be him. Right, Vexen?”

“Correct.”

“Huh.” Roxas pondered this, leaning his head back against the spines of the books on the shelf behind him. “I never thought about it like that, but I guess you’re right. Kind of weird to think about, huh? I can’t imagine being different from how I am now. But still…” His expression grew determined. “I really wanna find him someday. Sora.”

“An inadvisable ambition,” said Vexen, still writing. “I suspect the two of you can’t even exist in close proximity. Complications would no doubt result if you were to try and interact with him.”

“Do you know for sure? Or is that just a theory?”

“Just a theory? Hmph. I thought you’d know better by now.” Vexen looked up, jabbing his pen in Roxas’s direction. “And theory or no, it’s impossible to test. The Organization’s been hunting Sora since the Castle Oblivion debacle and we’ve still no idea where he’s being hidden.”

“Being hidden?”

“Obviously. The boy made a scene in every world he visited when he first started traveling, and was no less impulsive in Castle Oblivion. Someone must be helping him lay low for us to not have found him yet. And if he’s losing memories to the pair of you at the rate he seems to be, I’d expect him to be in no shape to go traipsing about. There’s no telling which of his allies is assisting him, or where he’s being kept.”

“Too bad.” Roxas shoved an unshelved research volume to the side, clearing a space for him to stretch his legs. “Still…I wish we’d get another day off or something. We could use it to look for Sora. Maybe we’d get lucky.”

“Your optimism is unparalleled. You think you’d locate him in one day, after all our efforts these past few months have been futile?”

“Well…Even if we didn’t find him, it would be nice to just get a break. Saïx has been having me and Xion really grind through missions lately.”

“Yeah,” Xion agreed. “I think I’ve collected more hearts this week than I ever have before.”

“Another day off, hm?” Vexen stopped writing, a thoughtful smile creeping across his thin face. “Well. That can perhaps be arranged.”

“A training exercise,” Saïx repeated.

“Precisely. And I hope I don’t have to explain why.”

“I’m afraid you do.”

“Have you interacted with either of them?” Vexen indicated Roxas and Xion talking on the other side of the Grey Area. “Six months in and they’re both nearly as unobservant as the day they started. A disgrace.”

“Their reconnaissance reports have been satisfactory.”

“Oh, yes. Satisfactory. Graded against what—Demyx’s?”

Saïx inhaled deeply through his nose, as if the very mention of Demyx threatened to set off a migraine. (Demyx, strumming his sitar in a chair beside the window, didn’t seem to hear.) Saïx’s bright gaze moved to Xion across the room, laughing into her glove as Roxas spoke.

“If that thing isn’t up to scratch,” he said, “that’s your responsibility.”

“Well, I don’t know when you expect me to do any training when you have Xion working missions back-to-back.”

“Then why take Roxas too?”

“Because the boy needs it. If Xion is going to keep spending all her time with him, I’d like him to not dull her mind more than is unavoidable.”

Xion and Roxas hurried over when called—perhaps too quickly, as Saïx looked suspicious. Still, they seemed suitably wary at being summoned, and Vexen snapped at them as soon as they were within earshot.

“I’ve received clearance for the training exercise we discussed. You’ll both be accompanying me today to perform reconnaissance, and I won’t bring you back until I’m satisfied with your results.”

“Do we have to go?” Roxas groaned.

“Yeah, don’t we need to be gathering hearts?” Xion asked Saïx. Saïx frowned at her, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re both over quota for the week already,” he admitted, after checking his clipboard. “If Vexen thinks this exercise will improve your future efficiency…”

“We’re doing just fine!”

“Did I ask for your opinion, boy?” Vexen snapped. “I’ve already explained to you my reasons, so I want no backtalk from either of you. I’d like to be finished with this as soon as possible.”

Saïx soon relented, less out of agreement and more because he seemed unwilling to listen to Vexen argue the point until hoarse. The darkness brought the three of them to a new world under a morning sky, the sun not yet visible above the rooftops of old-fashioned buildings, the brick-and-stone streets lined with lamps. As soon as the dark portal closed behind them, Xion burst into giggles. Roxas laughed too, and Vexen allowed himself a smug smile.

“Did you see the look on his face?” Roxas said. Xion giggled harder.

“Enough of that, you two. Contain yourselves.” Vexen put a hand on each of their backs, as if to push them forward. “It’s not as if I was being entirely untruthful. We are here to learn, after all. Stay close to me and come along.”

They emerged out of an empty side street into a cobblestone plaza ringed by storefronts, a nearby fountain sparkling in the morning sun. None of the passersby took any notice of them—not even their matching attire seemed worthy of attention—but Roxas and Xion stuck close behind Vexen regardless, trailing him like ducklings. To their surprise, he did not pull them into the shadows of an alley, instead taking to the sidewalk and strolling up it briskly. They had to hurry to keep up with his long stride.

“Hey Vexen—don’t we need to stay out of sight?” Roxas asked, as they began to pass other people heading on their own business. Xion scooted out of the way of a mustached man who was arguing side-by-side with his companion, the two taking up the whole width of the sidewalk.

“No, not here,” said Vexen. “And it should be obvious why.”

Roxas and Xion knew him well enough to recognize this as a demand for them to exert their minds. As they crossed a plaza they both lost themselves in thought, and Xion spoke up as they passed a notice board covered in advertisements for jobs and rooms for rent.

“You said this is the place some people come to when their worlds are swallowed by the darkness,” she said. “So…We don’t need to stay out of sight because…In a normal world, people don’t know about other worlds. But here everyone is from all over.”

“Yeah,” Roxas agreed, picking up on her reasoning. “We can just say that our home world is gone too. And since everyone here is from a different world, everyone will act different from each other. There’s no way for us to stick out unless we do something really weird.”

“Precisely. In fact we would attract much more attention by skulking than by simply blending in with the populace. This area is too urban for real stealth, and the last thing we want to do is appear suspicious. Best to hide in plain sight.”

“I thought we ran a covert operation?” Roxas prodded. “No rubbing elbows with the locals?”

“Oh, be quiet.”

They passed a sidewalk cafe humming with activity, the scent of spiced coffee following them for a full block afterwards. They passed shops and stalls and small businesses aplenty, and though everywhere there were people, the sight of a man and two children in black coats drew notice either only briefly or not at all. Everyone they passed seemed intent on their own business. Roxas drew level with Vexen.

“Where are we going?” Roxas asked him. “Are you taking us somewhere special?”

“No. As I’ve told you, we’re doing reconnaissance. I’ve only been to this world once, quite a few years ago, and it’s grown a great deal since. It’s of no strategic value to the Organization, so there’s been no pressing need to update our data, but that makes it ideal for our purposes today.”

“Wait, we’re doing recon for real? I thought this was supposed to be another day off.”

“A truly great mind never rests,” said Vexen haughtily. “It merely confines itself to other problems for a time.”

“Man. So much for a vacation…”

But Roxas soon found himself too interested in everything around them to feel any resentment at technically having to work. Traverse Town had an unusual energy that felt different to any other world they’d visited, and they spent a whole hour strolling through the first and second districts alone, peering into shop windows, watching people who spoke in a hundred accents eating and bartering and going about whatever new lives they’d cobbled together in this place. Though some people dressed similarly, there was almost as much variety in their clothing as their speech, so that the three’s matching black coats continued to attract no particular attention from anyone as they explored.

“I wonder how people leave this world?” Roxas asked aloud, as they passed through an especially busy section of sidewalk. He and Xion stayed immediately behind the tall Vexen, letting him part the crowd. “Normal people can’t use the dark corridors like we do, right? So they must have some other way of getting out of here.”

“Gummi ships,” said Vexen. “Extremely uncommon, but they exist. Did you see an advertisement for inter-world transport?”

“No. I just guessed because of that back there.”

Roxas pointed behind them, towards a building they had already passed which took up nearly a whole block.

“That was a hotel,” he said. “A big one. And that means there must be people who come here without staying a long time. I mean, why would you have a hotel if everyone’s just stuck here? Plus, this area seems pretty nice, and there’s not any normal houses or anything—just shops. Like downtown Twilight Town. So the hotel must actually make enough munny to stay open, or else they’d replace it with a bunch of stores.”

“It is like Twilight Town,” Xion agreed. “I was thinking that too. I haven’t seen any houses or apartments yet, but Roxas is right. This is their downtown. So like how in Twilight Town, there’s mostly shops and restaurants in the valley and then the houses are up in the hills…Well, here there must be some place further out where most people live. And that means the houses we do see in this part are probably expensive. Or they just belong to the people who got here first.”

“Could be both,” Roxas said. “I mean, if you got here first, you’d get first pick of where to live, right? And then as more worlds were lost and this town got bigger and bigger, people would have to start living farther away, where there was space left. So your house in the center of town would get more valuable as more people showed up.”

Vexen smiled at them.

“Excellent reasoning, you two. I’m certain you’re both correct, and that there are tenements and such further out. But everything of interest to us should be in this general area. We want to get an idea of how the place functions overall.”

The center of town was divided into commercial districts, they discovered. It had indeed grown greatly since Vexen had been here last, and he had to pause and take stock of their location several times as they explored.

“Are we looking for something?” Xion asked, while they were stopped in front of a bevy of signposts.

“Not exactly,” said Vexen. “But take this as an opportunity to hone your powers of observation. Tell me what you deduce as we go along.”

Despite this insistence that they ought to apply themselves as seriously as any mission, Vexen didn’t actually do anything to enforce it, and Roxas and Xion soon began to stray here and there among the many shops, like wobbly comets losing their orbit around the sun. Every time he hunted one of them down, the other disappeared soon after, and when he finally lost sight of both of them at once he spent a good ten minutes circling the block, scowling against the glass of every store like a strangely outraged window shopper. Finally he found them admiring the wares in a millinery that was so tightly sandwiched between a deli and a drugstore that he hadn’t initially realized it was a separate establishment, having walked by it twice already.

“And what do you two think you’re doing?” he demanded, once inside. “Xion, take that off at once. You look absurd.”

Xion smiled mischievously from beneath her enormous hat.

“We’re doing recon,” she said, reaching up and flicking at a brightly-colored feather attached to the brim. “It’s important to see how much things cost. It tells us about how the people here live.”

“It’s important to see what goods cost, yes. Not to try them on for size.” He plucked the hat off of her head. “And luxury items aren’t of any analytical value.”

“Sure they are,” said Roxas. He set a different hat back on the shelf, matching Xion’s playful expression. “You would think a world like this wouldn’t have anything fancy. But if people are buying nice hats and stuff, it means not everyone is just barely getting by. It’s more proof that this town is pretty stable.”

“Trying to be clever, are you?”

“Just analyzing data. That’s what we’re here for, right?”

Vexen made an exasperated noise. A commotion in the back of the shop attracted the three’s attention, and Vexen set the hat Xion had been wearing back onto a mannequin as a woman bustled out of the back room, beaming.

“Afternoon, dears!” She had an accent similar to Luxord’s. “Anything I can help you find today? Something off the sale rack?”

“No, no, certainly not.” Vexen glared at Roxas and Xion. “We’ll be on our way, thank you. And I’ll be taking these.”

He dragged the pair out by their coats, muttering furiously, the two of them struggling not to laugh at his pompous irritation.

A maze of back alleyways and waterways led them to districts Vexen had never seen, full of public works projects whose presence and scope impressed them. An enormous glass greenhouse complex dominated the fifth district, so large that they spent a good half-hour wandering inside, admiring the variety of trees and fruits and flowers—many of which, their placards explained, had come from worlds now lost to darkness. Vexen and Roxas cared less about the greenhouse than Xion did, but they couldn’t fault her for being able to be excited, and when they left she carried with her a handful of different flowers that had already fallen to the ground, pocketing them to save them from being trampled.

The largest building in the next district over turned out to be the post office, which interested Vexen more than Roxas and Xion could understand. He stood outside for a long while, pretending to read the flyers taped to a notice board on the side of the building as he observed its activity, while Xion and Roxas instead enjoyed a street performer strumming his guitar on the steps of a small church. This time it was the two of them who had to hunt down Vexen once the guitarist finished his song.

“Is a post office really that important?” Roxas asked Vexen. “All they do is deliver mail.”

“True—but in this context, that’s extremely noteworthy. It’s more evidence of an unusual degree of social cohesion in this place. This is a world of refugees, after all. By all rights it ought to be a slum.”

“Why isn’t it, then?”

“That’s our job to deduce today, if we can. If we can’t, it becomes an outstanding question on the world report.”

Once the morning had passed into afternoon, hunger struck them powerfully enough to warrant a change in their investigation’s priorities. In the fourth district, a wonderful smell lured them to a woman with a griddle cart whose wares they decided to call ‘goop waffles,’ since that was all they could make of the name through her accent: fresh-grilled buttery wafers sandwiching a layer of hot caramel that oozed out of the sides when bit, stickying gloves and mouths. Vexen ate half a dozen without pause, and they carried the rest of them in a brown paper bag, sharing them until they ran out and then seeking other fare.

This, at least, required no reconnaissance effort at all: the residents of Traverse Town clung to the tastes of their lost home worlds with nostalgia born of tragedy, and even Vexen was surprised by the sheer variety across the central districts’ cafes and diners and market stalls. Roxas discovered that he liked hot dogs (after being assured that they were probably not made out of dog), and Xion returned from a vendor’s stand with a newspaper cone full of greasy fries and a pile of brown lumps that turned out to be balls of fried risotto. The three of them settled on a bench in the fountain plaza, bartering food between themselves until they were stuffed. Even then, there were still plenty of fries left. Roxas took charge of them after his second hot dog.

“You’ll make yourself sick, boy,” Vexen told him, watching him dunk the fries in a mystery sauce that they guessed was a mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise.

“No way, I’m starving. We’ve been walking around for hours.”

They amused themselves people-watching, making a game out of singling out a particular passerby and trying to guess something about them from their gait and attire. Vexen assured them was a good exercise even if they had no way of confirming their deductions (“it teaches you how to pay attention to details”).

“Kind of funny how most people here are humans,” Xion said, watching a man and a woman walk a pair of spotted dogs around the enormous fountain. “I’ve seen other kinds of people today, but not that many. Is it because most worlds have lots of humans on them?”

“Humanity does seem to be disproportionately represented among the worlds in general.” Vexen stole a fry from Roxas’s paper cone. “A curious observation, one I made myself long ago. But as to why it is…well, I’ve no idea. It’s an interesting question.”

“I thought you knew everything,” Roxas said.

“Hardly. If I knew everything I wouldn’t be half so busy, now would I?”

By the time the dog-walking couple left the plaza, Roxas and Xion had concluded that they were married, had probably lived in Traverse Town for a few years, and were well-liked, sociable people. None of it had been difficult to deduce, as the couple laughed and chatted animatedly in a way that recent refugees surely wouldn’t, and more than once as they walked, they’d stopped to exchange greetings with people they obviously knew. Their departure ended the guessing game at last, and Xion looked around with renewed interest, as if tempted to pick another target from among the variously-dressed people out and about near the fountains.

“There’s so many different people here…” she remarked. “How many worlds did the darkness take?”

“It’s difficult to estimate.” Vexen considered the question. “We’ve observed that some worlds were restored to the Realm of Light when Sora and Riku closed the Door…but not all of them, and not all to the same degree. Certainly there’s more than one world that was steeped in darkness for so long that it has no hope of being fully recovered. I suspect the strength of a world’s heart has some bearing on the matter, but I’ve no proof. It’s a difficult theory to test.”

“Huh.” Roxas considered this, idly watching a young couple splash each other in the distant fountain. “So, this world, then…It’s like the universe created a home for all these people who don’t have one. Right?”

“In a sense, yes.”

“Then…Why don’t we come live here?” He popped another fry into his mouth, his voice muffled by it. “After the Organization, I mean, when you and me have hearts. We could all live together, since we don’t have worlds to go back to. If that’s why this world exists in the first place, then why not? Or—maybe we could find a place in Twilight Town.”

“You sort of belong to Sora’s world,” Xion pointed out. “You could go back there.”

Roxas munched thoughtfully, then swallowed.

“Nah, it’d be weird. The beach seems more like a place you go for fun...I don’t think it would be the same if I lived there all the time.” He looked up at Vexen. “And if you weren’t a Nobody, you’d have to live in Traverse Town anyway, since your home world is gone.”

“How would you know that?”

“I asked Xigbar about it once. Where you guys are all from. He just said the Heartless ate it and now it’s a dump.”

“Never ask that man anything,” Vexen grumbled, stealing a few more fries. “And what’s put all this into your head all of a sudden? Moving to another world?”

“Xion and I have been thinking lately about what we wanna do next. I mean…when Kingdom Hearts is done, and we don’t have missions anymore.”

“He’s not wrong, is he?” Xion asked eagerly. “Once we’re done with Kingdom Hearts, we won’t be working all the time. We could go do whatever we wanted.”

“Not you as well.” Vexen looked exasperated, or as exasperated as someone could while eating fries. “I had thought I could at least count on you to have some sense. You’re only meant to copy Roxas’s strengths, not his propensity for foolishness.”

Roxas flicked a retaliatory fry into Vexen’s face, making Vexen splutter and confiscate the rest. Xion split her last ball of fried risotto with Roxas as a consolation, but he was already full enough to decline it, and she ended up breaking it into smaller pieces and scattering them on the ground beside the bench, hoping to attract some of the pigeons foraging off near a trash bin.

“Don’t worry, Vexen,” Xion said brightly, once she’d given away most of her food. Already a distant pigeon was edging closer. “Even if me and Roxas moved here, we’d still come visit you.”

“I beg your pardon? Where do you two come up with this kind of nonsense?” Vexen demanded. “Even if the Organization were to disband, you’re both completely unprepared to live independently in this or any other world. ‘Visit me,’ indeed. The very idea…”

“Unprepared?” Roxas asked. “Says who?”

“Says me, thank you very much. Effective Heartless-slayers you two may be, but you don’t have any of the practical skills that supporting yourselves would require.”

“Come on. How hard can it be?”

“That is quite enough.” He tugged the shoulder of Roxas’s coat. “I’m not going to sit here and run through all of the numerous reasons why you two couldn’t survive on your own. You’ll have to take my word for it that building a life here—or anywhere else—would require adult supervision.”

Xion perked up. “So that means you’d come with us?”

Vexen made a noise of exasperation so loud that it frightened away the first pair of pigeons that had come to Xion’s buffet. They returned almost at once, picking at the bits of fried breadcrumbs as Vexen muttered loudly.

“I don’t know where you two get these outlandish ideas. Even if it were possible to live elsewhere, I don’t suppose you’ve given any thought to how we’d sustain ourselves. What would you expect me to occupy myself with in such a situation, hm?”

“Come on.” Roxas poked him with a fry. “You’re a genius, right? You could find something to do, no problem. It’s like you always say—‘the scientific method is applicable anywhere.’”

“That is one of the more convenient things about it, yes. Still, that doesn’t mean—”

He was interrupted by nearly a dozen pigeons fluttering over and landing near the bench like a squadron of bombers. Soon there were pigeons bobbing and cooing all around their boots, one even brave enough to hop onto the armrest beside Roxas. Vexen fussed and shooed them away, or tried, but all hope of dispelling them was lost when Roxas dumped out the last of the fry bits for their enjoyment.

“What are you doing?” Vexen demanded, kicking away a pigeon that had settled onto his boot. “Don’t feed these things, they’re flying rats.”

But Xion had already coaxed one close enough to eat out of her hand, laughing as its pecking tickled her even through her glove. She tried to scoop it up, but it cooed and fluttered away, skittish. She gave up for the moment and instead rummaged in her coat pocket for the flowers she’d gathered at the arboretum, sorting through their crumpled petals and salvaging the survivors.

“You really don’t want to live here, Vexen?” she asked him, inspecting a large purple bloom that hadn’t lost its shape in her pocket.

“I assure you that haven’t given it the slightest thought.” He huffed and folded his arms. “Really, all of this talk is monumentally premature. You two do realize that for all your efforts, you haven’t completed Kingdom Hearts yet, hm?”

“But we will sooner or later.” Roxas watched a pigeon strut back and forth.

“Hmph. Be that as it may…”

But Vexen could not actually come up with any solid argument against Roxas’s point, evidenced by how he slouched and grumbled to himself. He started when a grinning Xion reached up and stuck a flower in his hair.

Day 223: Another Vacation

Vexen took me and Roxas to Traverse Town on vacation. We told Saïx that we were doing a recon mission so we could spend the whole day together. We really did do recon, but it was lots of fun, too.

The three of us talked about what we want to do when Kingdom Hearts is finally finished. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but no matter what, I hope we can still be together. Even if it’s not all the time, as long as there are always days like today…I can’t imagine anything better than that.

“But what…what if he needs those memories in order to wake up? What if they're the key?”

DiZ did not so much as glance at her, his attention fixed on Sora in the memory pod before them, floating gently inside it, as if underwater. The pod’s white petals, usually opaque, had fogged into translucence on command, revealing Sora as a blurred outline of color.

“Naminé…You are a witch who has power over Sora's memories and those connected to him. Are you seeing something I cannot?”

She clasped her hands, her quiet voice hard to hear over the low thrum of the pod’s machinery.

“If his memories become part of her...”

“Her?” DiZ finally looked down at her—disdainfully, as if she were an old stain that couldn’t be cleaned. “The creature that Riku saw?”

“Yes.” Naminé felt his lone gold eye boring into her; it was her turn to keep her gaze fixed on Sora. “Sora’s Nobody, and…the other one…They’re both a part of this. Some of Sora’s most precious memories are with them, I think.” She hesitated. “I can keep working for now. But I don’t think I can finish without the memories that have already been lost.”

“That is a problem I’ll have to solve, then.”

“What can you do?”

“It need not concern you. Your only purpose is to continue undoing all the harm you’ve caused.”

Naminé winced. DiZ moved away, pulling out his tablet and tapping out a code that unlocked the screen, revealing a scrolling sequence of glowing code that he altered with one hand. The control panel hooked up to Sora’s pod glowed the same color in response.

“There’s something else…” Naminé ventured.

“What is it?”

“The memory loss isn’t consistent.” She kept her focus on the floor, setting her splayed fingertips together, as if apologizing. “It used to be much...messier. But one day, a few weeks ago…it slowed down. Like someone on the other side of the chain of memories was trying to stop it.” She looked up. “I don’t think it’s permanent. The way Sora’s memory is now, pieces will keep flowing out no matter what. But the process has been...altered.”

“I see.” He frowned. “I suppose even a Nobody is capable of doing that much.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to—”

“Not you.”

DiZ resumed typing. Naminé watched Sora sleep, her hands folded, her expression downcast—almost pleading.

“What are we going to do?”

“Whatever is necessary. Sora must be woken.” DiZ’s tablet beeped. “If we must erase a few abominations to do it, so much the better.”

Chapter Text

Demyx smiled ruefully and made a swooping motion over his head that grazed the tips of his spiked hair.

“Right over my head, man.”

“It’s not that hard,” Roxas insisted. “You just gotta think about it for a second.”

“Yeah, but that’s like—extra work. Who needs that, am I right?”

They stood outside the vestibule of the coliseum, squinting in the midmorning sun at the banners that seemed, from their illustrations, to be advertising a new tournament.

“Man, I’m already sweating out here,” Demyx said, rubbing his forehead. “And now we gotta hunt down a bunch of Heartless too? Talk about a buzzkill. Didn’t Saïx say one of them is super strong?”

“Do you really hate working that much?” Roxas asked, annoyed. Demyx shrugged.

“Hey, I don’t hate working. Boss-man says we can’t hate anything, right? I’d just rather be doing…y’know…literally anything else.”

“Even if you don’t care, you should still try to do a good job,” Roxas said. “I mean, some of us actually do a lot of important work for the Organization...”

This made Demyx laugh, though not maliciously.

“You know who you sound like sometimes? That old guy. Vexen.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, a little bit.” Demyx grinned at him. “You and Xion hang out with him a lot, huh?”

“I guess.” Roxas shrugged. “What does it matter?”

“Hey, it’s none of my beeswax.” He hummed and twisted a finger in his ear, as if trying to dig out a bit of song that had gotten stuck there. “Doesn’t sound like fun to me, but whatever floats your boat. I’m not gonna judge.”

“Let’s just get this over with.” Roxas shielded his eyes to better peer up at the colorful banners. “If we stick around too long, I’ll probably get roped into training again…”

“Hey there, rookie! Just the guy I wanted to see!”

They both started. Roxas groaned and turned around to see Phil trotting towards them from the outside gate, weaving through the legs of a gaggle of human locals, and by the time Phil reached them, Demyx had vanished. Roxas had no choice but to bend down to talk to Phil.

“I’ve been waitin’ for ya, kid! Today’s the big day, huh?”

“Big day?”

“Don’t worry. I already got you signed up for the games.” He jabbed a thumb at the nearest advertisement. “Now you just gotta go in there and put all that training to use!”

“But—”

Roxas cut himself short, thinking quickly. If a tournament were being held today, that meant the arena was being used…which meant there’d be no way to sneak in and search for Heartless to harvest. The only way in would be to enter a match. Unless—

“Snap out of it, kid!” Phil hopped from hoof to hoof. “I need you to stay sharp out there. You gotta bring everything you got if you wanna take home the trophy!”

Roxas couldn’t begin to care about whatever trophy these ‘games’ offered, but he didn’t say so, and Phil trotted away, seeming to take his silence for agreement. Demyx reappeared from behind a column as soon as Phil was out of earshot.

“You entering some kind of contest, Roxas?” he asked curiously, watching Phil leave.

“Apparently.” Roxas scratched his head. “But I think these games are the only way to get inside the coliseum right now, so I might as well do it. It’s our only shot at finding some Heartless around here.”

“Ahh,” said Demyx sagely. “I follow you.”

“I wish you would.”

Roxas ignored Demyx’s call of “hey, I’ll cheer you on!”, unwittingly doing a solid impression of Vexen as he trudged into the vestibule, muttering to himself.

He had been right; the whole arena was cordoned off, and the Heartless turned out to have been made a part of the games themselves. It was, he had to admit, a novel adaptation by the locals to what would otherwise be a huge problem. The crowds and high emotions at these competitions drew the Heartless, and instead of cancelling the events, they had incorporated the Heartless into them, so that tournament hopefuls had to mow down waves of the creatures before they earned the right to fight one another. Of course, there would still be a safety hazard if any really nasty Heartless showed up…but Roxas noticed that there weren’t actually that many spectators, and the few that were there sat in the furthest part of the stands, well out of the way of any errant spells, sword-swipes, or Heartless attacks.

Well…it was a rookie event, after all. Probably the only people who’d be interested in watching were friends of the participants.

Sora’s past victories haunted him as he fought. Every round ended with a ghostly memory of Sora celebrating with his friends or striking a triumphant pose—a well-deserved one, granted, since he’d taken home the trophy in the last rookie cup. But Roxas still blinked and rubbed his eyes after each battle, trying to dispel the unwanted images from his mind. It was confusing to see sudden glimpses of other Heartless surrounding him that would warrant a totally different attack strategy if they were real.

Go away, he thought, as his mind filled yet again with Sora. He rubbed at his forehead, wincing. I don’t need this right now.

Sora, of course, didn’t obey. By the semifinals Roxas had more or less steeled himself against the intrusions, though Sora’s parade of victory poses still annoyed him, and as he chugged water he saw Sora and his two friends celebrating even with his eyes closed. When Sora finally faded and he opened his eyes again, he found Phil standing beside him.

“You're doin’ great, kid!” Phil sounded genuine, at least. “Win the next match, and the title’s yours!”

“Right,” Roxas said vaguely, scanning the stands for Demyx. When he spotted him, Demyx grinned and gave a hearty thumbs-up, his other hand balancing a heaping plate of the delicious-looking souvlaki being sold at the south entrance.

“I don't know much about the guy you're up against in the finals,” Phil continued, tugging his beard, “but…from the look of him, I'd say he's been through a few fights. Stay sharp!”

“I will.”

“You've come this far.” Phil boxed Roxas’s side encouragingly, not being tall enough to hit him on the shoulder. “Don’t let anybody else walk outta here with your title! Remember—I’m expectin’ stuff from you, kid!”

Like that was anything new, Roxas thought in exasperation. Vexen had high expectations for him all the time. The real question was whether he’d harvested enough Heartless yet over the course of the tournament. He hadn’t been keeping count, but most of what he’d faced had been small fry. He might need to find at least one decently-sized target to hit quota…if this final opponent didn’t take too much out of him, anyway.

“So I just have one more round to go?” he asked Phil.

“Right. Now get out there and knock some heads!”

Roxas trudged back out into the arena, shielding his eyes against the glare of the noonday sun to scan the sand for his opponent. There didn’t seem to be anyone here yet, and he wondered what sort of person it would be.  Maybe he’d throw the match if whatever local it was turned out to be brutally strong, or conversely, unfairly weak. Forfeiting the title wouldn’t matter. He was here for Heartless, he told himself, not to try and one-up his past self’s previous achievements.

“Hey there, kiddo. Looks like you're doing pretty well here.”

Roxas whirled. Xigbar grinned at him, striding forward across the sandy arena, and Roxas was only sure it wasn’t a heat mirage when Xigbar drew close enough to cast him into shadow.

“Xigbar? What are you…Don't try and tell me you're a trainee, too?”

“As if!” He laughed. “I just dropped in to see how our little wannabe hero is doing. I care about your future, Roxas.”

“Just dropped in? You could have told me you were entering!”

Roxas stared at him, baffled, waiting for the punchline to the joke. Why would Xigbar do something like this? Was this his mission assignment for today? No, there was no way. He had to be messing around.

His bewilderment must have shown on his face, because Xigbar chuckled and summoned his arrowguns, using the tip of one to scratch his scarred cheek.

“Try to make it look real, Roxas. People are here for a show.”

“We shouldn’t be fighting each other in the first place!”

“Hey, those are the tourney rules. Last two standing gotta duke it out.”

“You know what I mean,” Roxas snapped. “Why are you even h—”

The whistle blew. Xigbar immediately put distance between them, casually taking aim with one gun, and Roxas had no choice but to summon his Keyblade, still fuming inside. This mission had been enough of a pain already, and now this—

An energy bullet whizzed by him, hitting the sand and fizzing out with a hiss.

Roxas steeled himself, tuning out the noise of the crowd, concentrating on his opponent. Xigbar had never harassed Sora, at least. No guiding memories flashed to him as they dodged one another’s blows, and Roxas focused on trying to stay one step ahead of the speedy Xigbar, a task easier imagined than performed. Xigbar wasn’t really making an effort, but he wasn’t aiming wide, either. Energy bullets peppered the ground so close to Roxas that a few of them singed the hem of his coat as he rolled away, the pellets sending up little puffs of smoke when they embedded themselves in the sand and exploded.

“Stay focused, tiger!” Xigbar laughed, aiming. Roxas ducked, but the shot would have missed him anyway, sailing high and sparking when it hit one of the columns at the corner of the dueling ground. Roxas grit his teeth and clenched his Keyblade tighter, making a one-handed pass at Xigbar that only grazed the back of his coat.

What was the point of this? What game did Xigbar think he was playing? Roxas, at least, was here to collect hearts—and he doubted that Saïx would have agreed to make a surprise like this part of that mission. So then why?

Xigbar stopped moving, lowering his guns and looking over his shoulder up at the sky. It was a perfect opening, but Roxas could not help but follow his line of sight, wondering what had caught his attention—

The ground shook beneath Roxas’s feet as huge chunks of purple metal crashed down into the arena. The jittery way they clattered and sought each other, and the familiar symbol emblazoned on one of the larger pieces, announced it was a Heartless: a massive one. Within seconds it had assembled itself into a gargantuan suit of hollow armor that towered as high as the walls that ringed the Coliseum. In the stands, someone screamed.

“Hey, is that the—”

“Well, well.” Xigbar grinned. “Looks like our target’s here.”

The Heartless clanked and shuddered, and a flash of memory passed over Roxas, so crystal-clear and intense that he clutched at his eyes, still seeing the Heartless through the black of his own glove. But the one he saw with his eyes closed rattled beneath a night sky between old-fashioned buildings, and the sunlight half-blinded him when he opened his eyes again, blinking furiously. The vision lessened, but did not completely fade.

Phil’s voice reached him from the edge of the arena.

“Looks like the finals just got postponed!” he hollered, waving furiously. “Hey, forget about the match! Just find someplace safe while I go get Herc!”

The smattering of spectators didn’t need to be told twice. Already most of them had scrambled for the exits, leaving scraps of banners and food debris littering the stands. Xigbar seemed amused by the commotion, though he didn’t take his eye off of the enormous Heartless.

“Well, Roxas? You ready to show me all you’ve learned?”

“Just do your job!” Roxas retorted, readying himself—but Xigbar did not draw his guns again. Instead he sauntered over to the now empty stands, settling himself in the second row so that he could sit back and prop up his legs.

“What are you doing?” Roxas called to him. “Come help me with this thing!”

Xigbar made a show of getting comfortable and grinned at Roxas, who had to lunge sideways to dodge one of the Guard Armor’s stomping feet.

“Are you seriously going to just watch?” he yelled. When he received no answer, he looked around frantically for Demyx, and at last spotted him sitting on the highest row of benches on the other side of the stands, well out of the danger zone. He was still eating.

This was the last straw. Roxas stifled a cry of frustration, blocking a glancing blow from one of the Guard Armor’s gauntlets before dodging away and rolling, landing in a low crouch on the sand-strewn floor of the arena. The Heartless’s floating limbs rattled and crashed together while its helmeted head spun around and around, as if dizzied.

Fine, then. If everyone else was going to be completely useless…He could handle this thing. After all, Sora had managed.

Then again, Sora had actually had help.

As Roxas attacked, Sora finally made himself useful. Memory-visions guided him to concentrate on disabling the Heartless’s limbs individually before trying to hit the torso, and somehow he was aware of how the Heartless telegraphed its different attacks, leaping and ducking out of the way of claw swipes and energy beams just before they landed. He gave himself distance when he needed to catch his breath, panting, wiping sweat from his face and throwing infuriated looks at Xigbar, who either did not notice or did not react. Destroying both the Guard Armor’s feet made it spin its arms; destroying both its arms sent its torso whirring uncontrollably, shooting blasts of energy that threw up a hail of gravel from the arena floor. Roxas spat out sand and waited for an opening, keeping himself out of reach way as much as possible, lunging in and raining blows on it only when the aftermath of one of its own attacks left it wide open.

In the back of his mind, some part of him hoped either Xigbar or Demyx might eventually join the fray, but neither did. The final stab from his Keyblade cracked the Guard Armor’s helmet, and Roxas, exhausted, forced himself to stay on his feet as the rest of the Heartless shattered like porcelain, evaporating into a cloud of darkness that shaded the whole arena before dissipating, leaving only a star-bright heart that winked out as quickly as it had appeared, gone—in whatever mysterious way that process happened—to join the great Kingdom Hearts above the World That Never Was.

“Mission complete,” he announced, dismissing the Keyblade and turning to face the stands.

He half-expected for Xigbar to have left, but there he was, leaning back with both hands behind his head. His crooked grin widened, and he sat forward and clapped sarcastically before easing to his feet.

“Not bad! Our little Roxas is growing up so fast.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“As if! That was a compliment.” Xigbar strode over, scratching his neck. “Always good to see our resident Keyblade wielder getting better at his job.”

“I’m not the only one,” Roxas pointed out, his temper flaring. “Are you gonna go pick a fight with Xion now, too? Or make her fight some huge Heartless all by herself?”

Xigbar laughed.

“No worries about Poppet stealing your thunder, kiddo. Who knows if she’ll even be around long enough to compete? We Nobodies don’t exactly have a long shelf life, y’know.”

“What do you mean?” Roxas asked at once, alarmed. “Is the Organization planning to deactivate Xion?”

This made Xigbar stop laughing. He gave Roxas a quizzical look, his scar shifting as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Big vocabulary you got there. What makes you say that?”

“You just said…” Roxas gathered himself. “Xion’s just as good with the Keyblade as I am. That’s all that matters to the Organization, right?”

“Aw, don’t sell yourself short, Roxas. You’ve got lots of other fine qualities.”

“What are you talking about?” What was this whole thing about? Why had Xigbar disrupted the mission to challenge him? “You still think I’m ‘exceptional’? Or are you just trying to make sure I’m just as good as Sora?”

He shouldn’t have said it, but the words left him unbidden. Xigbar laughed again, though less loudly, and for once his surprise looked genuine.

“Well, now. Sounds like the old blabbermouth let something slip.”

“I figured out about Sora on my own. Xion and me…” Well, if he’d already said too much, he might as well press on. “What’s the deal with her, anyway? Why can’t anyone know she’s copied from me? It doesn’t make a difference. She’s still one of us, and she works just as hard as I do.”

Xigbar did not say anything right away, and the silence sparked Roxas’s temper further.

“I know you know about Xion. You and Saïx are the only ones besides Xemnas who know about the Replica Program.”

Roxas’s insistence was too much; Xigbar burst out laughing. Though he reigned himself in at once, his tone was still amused.

“Frosty’s sure told you a lot, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah. He’s the only one who will.”

Roxas pivoted and stormed away, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He shouldn’t have said any of that—he wasn’t supposed to reveal that he knew—but why not, it was all so stupid, why did all of these things have to be a bunch of pointless secrets? Xion was Xion, and he was Sora’s Nobody, and that was that. It wasn’t any weirder than anything else in this weird Organization, and what was the point of keeping some people—keeping him—in the dark? Did Xemnas even have a good reason? One that made sense to anyone but him? Or was all of this just some big test? Xigbar certainly seemed to think so.

“Calling it a day, tiger?” came Xigbar’s voice from behind him.

“Mission’s over!” he yelled back, not looking over his shoulder. He didn’t want to see Xigbar’s infuriating grin, but he could have sworn he felt it somehow through the back of his coat. “I’m going to RTC.”

He stormed out of the arena into the vestibule, completely ignoring the last tattered remnants of the crowd, and oblivious to Phil calling his name. Outside the lobby, Demyx rejoined him, his previous souvlaki having been replaced with a half-eaten ring of sesame bread.

“Nice work out there, Roxas!” he said through a bite of it, as they headed towards the front gates.

“Would’ve been nicer if you’d helped…”

“Hey, I would have jumped in if you really needed it!” Demyx waved his bread for emphasis. “But you obviously had that thing under control. And besides, from where I was sitting, it looked pretty scary…”

“Ugh. Forget about it.”

Roxas’s curt tone seemed to surprise Demyx, because he hesitated before following Roxas as he stomped towards the outside gates. The evacuation of the small crowd had left the entrance to the stadium littered with trash, and Roxas kicked aside a half-eaten kebab that bounced away and landed in one of the braziers lining the wall, sending up a cloud of black smoke as it charred.

“Well…You sure showed that thing who’s boss.” Demyx wolfed down the last of his sesame bread. “But man, what a shocker to find out Xigbar was the other finalist! What’s up with that…I can’t imagine he was here on a mission. You never can tell what that guy is thinking…”

“Maybe he just wanted an excuse to fight me,” said Roxas sourly, as they reached the gates. “To test me.”

“No way, man! I wouldn’t read into it too deep.” Demyx pocketed the last of his bread. “Besides, the mission’s over, right? All’s well that ends well!”

Roxas said nothing; Demyx’s nonchalance grated him. He headed away, Demyx following, his thoughts racing as he summoned a dark portal now that they were out of sight of the locals.

Xigbar had been testing him to see if he were good enough—of that he was certain. But good enough for what, exactly? Some reason of his own, or for some higher purpose in the Organization?

But the only person higher than Xigbar was Xemnas. What would Xemnas need to see if he was ‘good enough’ for?

He raised the issue in the lab a few days later, but for once Vexen had neither a ready answer nor an idea of how to obtain one. In fact he dismissed the question on the grounds that Xigbar was not worth wasting mental energy on.

“That one has always marched to his own drumbeat,” was his verdict, “even before the Organization. I wouldn’t put much stock into anything he does.”

As unsatisfying as this was, it was all Roxas had, so he did his best to put the incident out of his mind (after complaining about it thoroughly to Xion, of course). Nothing similar had ever happened to her, but she lent a sympathetic ear regardless.

“I still can’t believe I had to beat that thing all on my own,” Roxas said indignantly. “It was huge. And Xigbar and Demyx both just sat there and watched me fight it, like it was a show or something. They didn’t even try to help.” He gestured animatedly with his ice cream. “Vexen’s right. I thought he just liked to complain, but the others really don’t work as hard as the three of us.”

“I’m sure they do important stuff too,” Xion said, for the sake of argument. “Like…recon, I guess.”

“Whatever.” Roxas moodily chomped at his bar of ice cream. “All I know is that I can’t count on them. I thought we were all on the same team, but I guess that doesn’t mean anything.”

“If I’d been there, I would have helped you fight it.”

“Well, yeah, I know you would. We’re friends.”

They watched the sunset, talking. Xion had been to Wonderland that day, and they puzzled over riddles the Cheshire Cat had given her, coming up with no satisfactory solutions, and concluding that perhaps the cat was that world’s local equivalent of Xigbar. Roxas had been to Never Land, though he hadn’t gotten a chance to fly again, not having run into the fairy whose dust seemed to be needed to do it.

“Have you gotten any new memories of Sora lately?” Xion asked him, changing the subject. “I dreamed about the islands last night. That hasn’t happened since the last time I fainted.”

“Sora? Yeah, actually. I’ve seen him more often these days. I just kinda try to ignore it, but sometimes I can’t. It was really bad the other day at the Coliseum.” He took another bite of ice cream. “It’s almost like the memories are getting a little bit stronger every time they come through.”

“Have you told Vexen?”

“No.” Roxas shrugged. “It’s no big deal unless it starts hurting you again. I can handle a few dizzy spells now and then. Nothing to worry about.”

He caught her worried look and sighed, scratching at the base of his messy hair.

“It’s nothing, Xion. Really.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. If something happened while you were out on a mission, a Heartless could take you out.”

“Come on, lighten up.” He forced a smile, elbowing her gently. “You’re as bad as Vexen.”

She elbowed him back, smiling in turn, but said, “I mean it, Roxas—you’ll tell him if it gets worse, won’t you? Like if you pass out or something.”

“Yeah, sure.” Roxas shrugged and stuck his ice cream stick in his mouth, letting it hang out of the corner. “Like I said, I try not to think about it too much. Seeing Sora all the time…it kinda bugs me, honestly.”

Xion neither agreed nor disagreed, instead thoughtfully taking her last bite of ice cream as a tram glided into the station below. When its whistle sounded, she perked up, turning her ice cream stick over.

“Well, there’s one good thing, at least.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She handed him the stick, smiling. It had writing on the side.

As the weeks went by, it seemed to Roxas and Xion that a new wave of more powerful Heartless began appearing throughout the worlds. However, Saïx assured them such Heartless had always existed, and he was simply only now trusting the two of them to be skilled enough to harvest their hearts for the Organization.

“The large ones are more efficient for heart collection,” he told them, “but much more dangerous. You’ve both been assessed to be capable of handling them now, and I suggest you keep your guard up when you do. If you find yourselves in trouble, you can’t count on getting any backup.”

“Some team we are,” Roxas muttered under his breath. He’d thought it had been too low for Saïx to hear, but Saïx glared at him, tucking his clipboard under his arm.

“We are only organized as a group to fulfill our purpose of completing Kingdom Hearts, Roxas. Nothing more. We have no room for any weakness or defect that gets in the way of that goal. Even,” his gaze slid to Xion, “if that defect is a member of the Organization itself.”

As soon as he turned his back, Roxas muttered something so rude that Xigbar, sitting nearby, burst out laughing.

With the increase in the difficulty of their missions, the clock tower became an even more welcome reward at the end of a long day, and if they had less time there than they were used to, they enjoyed it all the more. They saw a little less of Vexen, too, though Roxas was more inclined than Xion to head straight to bed if he were too exhausted after the clock tower; a sense of obligation kept Xion dropping by even on nights when she could barely keep her eyes open, if only to give Vexen his ice cream before dragging herself to bed.

When informed of the reason for the change in their routine, Vexen surprised them by showing up more often in the Grey Area in the mornings to see them off to work. Previously he had only been there on business of his own once in a while, but now he made it a point to turn up two or three times a week on his way down to the lab. There wasn’t ultimately any purpose to this, as he only ever gave the same admonishments that they had heard a thousand times, but it was still a nice change of pace to start the day with some condescension less ruthless than Saïx’s.

“Both of you be careful today,” he always said, studying them with unwarranted dismay, as if today would be the day they chose to forego common sense completely. “I don’t want to hear that you’ve done something idiotic and gotten yourselves hurt.”

“You always say that,” Roxas grumbled. “We’re not dead yet, are we?”

“We’ll be careful,” Xion said in contrast. “We promise.”

This morning send-off did not substitute for the evening ice cream delivery, as they once made the mistake of foregoing the latter for three days in a row, earning a telling-off on the fourth morning that necessitated bringing him an entire pint of ice cream that night. Even then, it still took a few days to placate him. Apparently he considered free ice cream his due at this point.

“I’m afraid you two will finally have to learn how to entertain yourselves,” he said that evening, after he’d finished the entire pint (unwittingly impressing them both). “I’ll be away from the castle for a little while.”

“Really? Where are you going?” Roxas asked.

“Castle Oblivion.” He decanted something clear into a vial. “With our numbers as thin as they are, maintaining it as a proper outpost has become too difficult to be worthwhile. We’ll continue to leave lesser Nobodies stationed there, of course, but I have to oversee the retrieval of all of my materials. Effectively we’re shutting it down as a base of operations.”

“So you’ll be gone a long time?”

“No, I think not. The place is mostly empty already. The real work will be sorting through everything once it’s been brought back here.”

Vexen finished whatever he was doing with the liquids and chilled them both to freezing, sending swirls of cold vapor creeping around his sleeves, ice blooming in fractals on the metal tabletop.

“What’s Castle Oblivion like?” asked Xion, as he put the tray away. “I’ve never been there.”

“Yes, you have, girl—though it’s natural that you wouldn’t remember it. That’s where you were born.”

“Born?”

“Well, in a manner of speaking. That facility is where I did most of the late-stage work for the Replica Program, and where I first put data into you. Saïx brought you here once we determined that you were sufficiently functional.”

“Castle Oblivion…” Roxas mused. “I wish I could go see it.”

“Me too,” Xion agreed. “Can we come with you, Vexen?”

“Absolutely not.” Vexen rapped his knuckles against the top of Xion’s head. “You’ll do far better to stay here and behave yourselves. I expect you two to be no less diligent with your missions in my absence.”

Xion rubbed her head. “How long will you be gone, though?”

“A day or two, perhaps. Hopefully not long enough for either of you to cause any trouble.”

“Since when do we do that?” Roxas asked.

“Oh, I think I can name a few occasions.” Vexen looked between them. “Make no mistake: if you two get up to anything untoward while I’m away, I’ll hear about it before I return.”

“You don’t have to worry about us,” Roxas said, with a touch of indignation. “We always work hard.”

“Are you sure we can’t go see Castle Oblivion?” Xion asked. “Not even one quick look?”

“Yes, quite sure.” Instead of tapping her head again, he poked her nose, making her yelp. “There’s nothing to see there in the first place. If it’s your origins you’re interested in, you’ll have all the relevant data at your disposal once I return. In fact if you’re so inclined you can help me sort through it.”

Xion brightened, and Vexen turned and swept away, talking to himself in a low voice as he rummaged along a bookshelf. Roxas scratched the side of his head.

“I dunno why I care,” he admitted. “I’m not from there. It’s just one more place where Sora’s been, I guess. And it’s where everyone else in the Organization…”

But he trailed off without finishing the thought aloud, his expression clouding. Only Xion noticed his sudden silence.

His own muttering echoed back at him through the marble halls, soft and distorted, as if he were being followed by ghosts. The occasional Dusk skittered away whenever he turned a corner, like cockroaches before a roving flashlight, but otherwise the castle was empty. Its gloomy basements and bright halls did not vary from one floor to the next, and it took him longer than he had expected to navigate between them, remembering only with difficulty on which floor certain rooms had been set up.

The basement lab was much as he’d left it—which was to say in total disarray. If anything it looked much worse than he’d expected, as though someone—Sora and his friends, perhaps—had come nosing about after he’d fled, breaking things at random. As Vexen crossed the room, his boots crunched occasionally against broken glass.

The half-dozen vats that had once held the suspension fluid for the Replica templates ran along one wall, dark and empty as open coffins, and when he reached these he inspected them with idle fondness, smiling his strange smile. A gloved hand passed over the glass that had once been Xion’s chamber, smearing away months of dust, revealing the vacant interior littered with unplugged tubes. He moved him to the vat next to it, too, dusting off the glass of the container that had incubated the Replica he’d used on Riku. This vat had thin spiderwebbed cracks in its center, and countless minute scratches on the inside of the glass, where the blank template had sometimes stirred too fitfully inside its nurturing prison.

“Stubborn little thing, weren’t you?” he asked the empty container. “Even before you were born.”

Nothing answered him; only old habit had made him speak. In both this lab and the main one, he’d spent so many hours alone with the developing Replicas that he’d grown used to talking at them while he thought aloud, and standing in front of their tanks again brought him back to those distant months. Only a few other members of the Organization had been cleared to know what he was working on, and even their visits were rare in the beginning, before he had any results to show. For days at a time, his creations had been the only living—or almost-living—things in his presence.

He stared at his own reflection in the tank glass, not seeing it, instead remembering the glow of the viscous green fluid that had once filled it.

On paper, they’d been identical. In reality Vexen had come to ascribe simple personalities to them, even against his own inclination, as there was no scientific reason that they ought to have had anything of the sort. But there was no denying that they’d behaved differently from the moment they’d come to life, long before being given any data to copy.

The prototype that he’d used on Riku had always been active, even restless, trying to explore its tiny world as soon as it had the first rudimentary senses to experience it with. By contrast, the one that had become Xion had always been docile and quiet, never damaging its tank or making a fuss, but responding just as well to every test he put it through. It was largely why she’d been chosen to have the Keyblade instead of her older brother.

The unbidden analogy made him scowl. He turned away from the tanks, muttering to himself.

He busied himself about the ruined lab, gathering what needed to be retrieved and what might still be of use if salvaged. The Dusks were useless except as couriers, and though every time one appeared he burdened it with as much as it could carry, he was left alone for long stretches, so that the only sounds were the rustle of papers and his own low muttering reflected back at him, faintly distorted by the acoustics of the empty lab. Despite the mess, it was strangely easy to forget where he was. Twice when the sound of movement came at the door, he looked up expecting Roxas and Xion to peer inside instead of Dusks. Both times he barked orders that sent them scurrying, and his scowl deepened as he reapplied himself to his task.

A strange sensation settled over him as he worked, slowing his movements as he sorted through broken equipment and old notes. It was not, of course, melancholy. Genuine emotion was long beyond him, he knew that quite well—and even in life, he’d never had an occasion to feel grief. His losses, such as they were, had all happened when he’d already been stripped of the capacity to mourn them. Yet he found his mind returning over and over to the same few images: Zexion’s sharp wariness as they discussed the situation unfolding upstairs; Sora’s determined look before battle that was so very like Roxas; the Riku Replica dissolving in a pool of darkness that ate him away like an acid.

When Vexen had left this place last, his only concern had been leaving it in one piece. Now he could not help but remember the others who had not managed to. Some of them had deserved their end, and some of them…

Well.

It wasn’t really emotion, he told himself, clinging grimly to that reassurance as he worked. It was only an echo of what the man with his shape might have felt in his place. But that man was gone, and there was no reason to conjure any hint of him now, however unwillingly it was being done. What logic was there in dwelling on death, and on days which would never come again? Irrelevant data, all of it.

But the memories nibbled at him unbidden as he worked.

Gradually the chaos of the abandoned lab grew tamer. Dusks swept glass and unsalvageable pieces of equipment into the corners, and carried away books and piles of papers once he’d sifted through them, their efforts slowly gutting the room. Vexen himself worked intermittently. Sometimes he threw himself into it with urgency, directing the Dusks to and fro like harried waitstaff, and sometimes an old logbook absorbed him so thoroughly that the Dusks all slunk away for lack of orders, leaving him sitting alone with his elbows on a table or pacing back and forth in front of the empty tanks, a sheaf of papers in one hand.

Try as he might to concentrate, Castle Oblivion’s ghosts pestered him. There was no reason to keep close to the empty tanks, yet he did anyway, often looking up from his unconscious pacing to find he’d drawn near them again, their familiar shapes looming dark and silent where they’d once bubbled and hissed and glowed. His greatest achievement, the both of them. And though it was foolish, he allowed himself pride at the idea that they were doubly remarkable for having been made by him—even without a heart, even when concepts like happiness were only words attached to memories.

Well…There were things like emotion now, certainly. Pain, and fear at the threat of pain, and rage when that pain had been inflicted. Animal things, things a dog could feel, and even those had come only with time. He could barely recall the earliest days when he’d lacked even such primitive instincts, and cold reason had had to stand in for the fear that he’d remembered how to react to only gradually, after months had slithered by. After enough had happened to remind him of why fear and pain were important.

Of the six of them, Xemnas alone had never wavered. If anything, he guided them with a slow confidence that emotion had never permitted him before, and his ponderous voice became an anchor that they clung to in the emptiness of their new ephemerality. The rest of them had lost much, and knew it, but Xemnas had never seemed diminished by the absence of his heart. His power had only broadened, and his presence had become, ironically, even more solid.

Ienzo, too, had become…but who was to say whether it was less or more?

Vexen pushed the thought away, but it came again, disobedient. The cold-eyed shell of a young man who had grown into his seat in the Round Room, who had traded his silence for cool disdain, who thought little and less of anyone who did not devote themselves utterly to the work of the Organization they had formed to survive…

Such a small thing he’d been, all those years ago. Quiet, thoughtful, keenly perceptive behind the silences that all of them had learned how to read. The man Vexen had been had resented him at first, having never asked for this responsibility that the master had shouldered him with unbidden (a child, of all things, it was the worst sort of joke)…but slowly his personal notes began containing fewer ideas for new research and more reports on the boy’s progress, lamenting his stubbornness, praising his intelligence, debating for pages at a time over which direction to guide him if he ever decided to listen.

It was too simple, too trite, to say the boy had reminded him of himself. In fact a more different personality to his own could hardly be conceived. But slowly, without permission, Ienzo had become the only thing he’d known how to cherish, and perhaps it was that ancient memory that nagged at him now as he paced the ruined lab, instilling a sense of unease that what remained of himself was still here, yet the remains of that boy were not.

Again he reminded himself, firmly, that it was not sadness. He could not feel, not really, because if he could then the only choice would be to feel things so unfathomably heavy that they could not be borne. So this was nothing, surely—nothing that mattered. The sensation he thought he felt was neither guilt nor grief but a sort of phantom pain, void and meaningless, like tingling in a missing limb.

He finally sat, leaning back against a workbench with a manuscript across his knees, the broken vats arranged before him like a forgotten shrine. In sitting he caught his reflection in the Riku Replica’s cracked tank, splintered into many copies that each blinked when he did. He avoided looking at it, flipping through his notes, scanning for dates.

Xion was so much now. She’d had time to become it, against all expectations. But the other one…

Mildly defective on paper due to its restless agitation, not half as docile as the eventual No. i., and for that the Program had given its other product neither a name nor a purpose. Vexen had been free to put the unit through its paces for his own enlightenment, but the pages of data that were left did not contain enough of the things that Vexen wanted to remember now about the Replica he’d made of Riku. Defiant and belligerent and insecure, desperate to be and to be himself, despite what he was, why he’d been made. Such a fiery heart inside him, so strong that not even the addition of Riku’s own memories could quench it, and even when the darkness took him apart he’d been aware of himself, fierce, sorrowful.

He’d never had a name.

Vexen forced himself to dig more deeply into the notes in his lap, but the reflection of light against the cracked glass sometimes caught his eye like a trick, making him glance up and then frown, looking away.

Off and on, against his will, his thoughts kept returning to children: the two he had, and the two he did not.

Research Entry 557

Returning to Castle Oblivion brings back memories. I suppose that is the nature of the place, and yet such intrusive thoughts serve no purpose. Still, one can’t help considering whether events here might have transpired differently. As Nobodies, we in the Organization have no obligation to one another, and yet I wonder: need it have played out the way it did? Is there more I could have done?

An empty question. He is gone, and not even a Replica would suffice to replace him.

In addition, I find myself strangely drawn to my notes about Xion’s counterpart. The Riku Replica was merely a freehand demonstration of the Program’s capabilities, and yet I am compelled to review the files again, as if I might glean something new. A pointless exercise. None of the factors that have influenced Xion’s development existed in the case of the other one, and my observations concerning him can be of minimal application to her. Nevertheless…

Were it possible, I would regret his fate. Given Xion’s example, I can only theorize now about what he might have become.

“Today makes two hundred and fifty-five.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been that many days since I first joined the Organization.”

“Wow. You’ve been counting?” Xion paused, doing the math. “Well, then that makes two hundred and forty-eight for me.”

“Time flies, huh?”

He handed her an ice cream, and they crunched into them at the same time as the first evening tram glided into the station two stories below. Incoming trams weren’t big enough to make the stone of the clock tower vibrate beneath them, but they could sense the commotion in smaller ways, and when people began to trickle out into the station plaza, they amused themselves as always by watching the passengers come and go. They’d done it often enough in these few months to recognize some of the more distinctive faces in the crowd, and pointed out familiar people to one another as a matter of course. They spotted Hayner, Pence, and Olette laughing and chatting loudly on their way into town, playing tag.

“Think everyone in the Organization will be like that once we all get hearts?” Roxas asked, watching Olette chase the boys. “Those three were so different from Nobodies.”

“You think so?” Xion tilted her head. “I’m not sure. They didn’t seem that different to me.”

“Yeah, well you’ve got a heart, sort of.”

Xion stopped eating her ice cream, watching Roxas with a small, thoughtful frown.

“Roxas…Are you really sure that you don’t have a heart?”

“I dunno.” Roxas shrugged. “I can’t just…look inside. But I figure, if there is something there—inside me—then I’d feel it, wouldn’t I?” He took another bite of ice cream, speaking around it. “How do you even tell you have one? What’s it like for you?”

It was Xion’s turn to shrug.

“I don’t know how to say, because I don’t know what it’s like for you without one. Or even what it’s like to be human, with a real heart. All I know is what it’s like to be me. And to me, it doesn’t seem like we’re all that different from each other. You still laugh and get upset, right? The same way I do.”

“I guess so.” Roxas rubbed the side of his head. “But maybe when you have a heart, all that stuff is more…intense? I dunno.”

“You’ll probably understand once you’ve got one.”

“Yeah, I know. But I still wish I understood now.” He sighed, frustrated with himself. “Maybe when Vexen gets back, we can ask him about it some more.”

“Ask me about what?”

Xion and Roxas started, and Xion nearly dropped her ice cream off the edge of the clock tower. Vexen stepped out of the dark portal, his tall figure casting a long shadow across the clock tower’s face. He laughed at their wide-eyed expressions.

“Surprised, are you?”

Roxas recovered first.

“Vexen! What are you doing here?”

“I hardly need your permission to be out and about.”

“But you never come up here!” Xion said. “I mean—you never really go anywhere. Did something happen at Castle Oblivion?”

“Did your lab burn down?”

“Hmph. You two think you’re funny, don’t you?”

He carefully folded himself into a sitting position well back from the edge of the clock tower.

“There’s nothing amiss, no. I simply returned ahead of schedule today and thought I’d come find the pair of you for a change.” He frowned at them both, sitting several feet in front of him with their legs dangling off the edge of the multistory tower. “And why are you both sitting up there? You’re liable to fall.”

“It’s fine,” Roxas said. “We sit here every day.”

“That doesn’t make it sensible. Move back this way.”

“How come?”

“Or don’t, as it suits you.” Vexen glared at him. “I suppose you can be as foolhardy as you like. But you, Xion, are my responsibility. It will be on me if you fall and break your neck.”

“If I broke my neck, couldn’t you just fix me?”

“That’s one hypothesis I would rather not test. Get back here at once.”

Xion grudgingly obeyed, and Roxas followed so that he wouldn’t be left sitting alone in front of them both. After a brief round of complaining about the change in viewing angle that did nothing to dissuade Vexen, they resigned themselves to the downgrade, settling on either side of him with their backs to the warmed clock face.

“So, how was Castle Oblivion?” Roxas asked.

“Uneventful, thankfully.”

“Did you get all your notes and stuff?” asked Xion.

“Yes—and in hindsight I wish I’d done it sooner. I’d forgotten just how much material I’d left behind in that lab. Sorting through it all will take some time.” Vexen produced a stick of ice cream from his pocket and unwrapped it with no particular interest, as if pocket ice cream were normal. “And how did the pair of you fare in my absence?”

Xion shrugged, and Roxas said, “Everything’s fine. How much could’ve gone wrong in one day, anyway?”

“In this Organization? I wouldn’t dare guess.”

They watched the sun set, Vexen providing commentary that added a new dimension to the beauty they’d seen so many times. When the first handful of stars winked into view on the horizon before the sun had even gone down, they learned such stars belonged to worlds with particularly strong and bright hearts.

“So worlds can have strong and weak hearts, just like people?” Roxas asked.

“They can. Though one shouldn’t assume too much about a world solely from the brightness of its heart. Since founding the Organization, we’ve observed many variables that seem to play into it. But one thing is clear: the hearts of worlds are as vulnerable to corruption by darkness as the hearts of individuals.”

“Can you tell what worlds are what stars?” Xion asked. “Like—that one,” she pointed, “is that a world that we know?”

“I’ve no idea. With the dark corridors available to us, it’s never been necessary to try and correlate worlds with their place in the heavens. However…The idea has merit, I think. An accurate star map could certainly have its uses, and I’m certain one doesn’t yet exist for the World That Never Was.”

“We could make one,” said Xion. “That sounds like fun.”

“If by ‘fun’ you mean ‘an enormous amount of work,’ then perhaps you’re right.”

As he elaborated, Roxas and Xion leaned against him on either side, enjoying the chill he had conjured to ward off the heat of the long sunset. He was so tall that he could rest his elbow on Xion’s head while he finished his ice cream, a gesture which she tolerated, though she did balk when a drop of melted ice cream fell onto her nose. Neither she nor Roxas were actually listening, nor did Vexen seem to expect them to. His monologue was more of a piece of ambience than anything else. Still, after a few minutes, Roxas started when Vexen emphasized a point by tapping him on the head.

“Okay, fine, we get it already,” Roxas complained, ruffling his hair where Vexen had touched it. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Apparently I do.” Vexen smirked and took another bite of ice cream, settling his back against the wall. “Now…What was it you two had wanted to ask me about earlier?”

“I sent Vexen to Castle Oblivion last night to clear out our facilities there. He should RTC soon.”

“And Naminé?”

“Still missing, sir. Unless Vexen reports some sign of her when he returns.”

“Ha ha! Where, oh where could she be?”

Xigbar’s laughter echoed weirdly in the airless Round Room, as if there were several of him hiding behind the other empty thrones. Xemnas said nothing; Saïx glared.

“Why, Xigbar…It almost sounds as though you know.”

“Who, me?” He grinned. “As if. Been lookin’ high and low, but still nothing. She just up and vanished.”

“What else is there?” Xemnas asked from above. Saïx redirected his attention.

“The puppet concerns me.” He uncrossed his legs, sitting forward. “We created it in order to have total control over the Keyblade, and yet it has become alarmingly…independent.”

Xigbar laughed again, making Saïx’s eyes narrow.

“Something you find amusing?”

“Little Poppet isn’t the problem,” Xigbar said, grinning. “The problem is the old man.”

“What do you mean?”

Xigbar leaned back in his seat, resting his fist on his scarred cheek.

“If people see with their hearts, Saïx, then you’re even blinder than the rest of us. You seriously haven’t noticed? Both of our half-pints know a heck of a lot more than they should.” He looked up at Xemnas. “Roxas and Xion both know all about our pal Sora. Except where to find him, of course.”

A ripple of surprise passed over Saïx’s face, quickly suppressed. Xemnas, sitting high above them, could not be read.

“Is that so? And how did that come to be?”

“How else? Our resident know-it-all let something slip.” Xigbar gestured. “The old guy knows everything except when to keep his mouth shut.”

“I see.”

Some faint note in Xemnas’s otherwise steady tone made both Saïx and Xigbar look up, and Xigbar’s perpetual smirk widened.

“Our current plans remain unchanged,” Xemnas said. “However…If this is true, then we must be prepared to alter our course when the time comes.”

“The time for what, sir?” Saïx asked. Xemnas assessed him.

“Your concerns about Xion are not unfounded,” he said. “It has strayed far from our original design. And if it and Roxas are aware of Sora’s existence, that is cause for concern. They may grow tempted to seek him out.”

“That would be treason.”

“Indeed.” Xemnas looked thoughtful, and leaned back in his chair, musing. “A puppet dancing on pulled strings is useful. But when it learns to pull its own strings, it becomes either even more remarkable…or utterly worthless.”

“We should dispose of it,” Saïx pressed, “before it poses too much risk.”

He seemed to expect Xemnas to argue, because when the Superior said nothing, Saïx looked up at him, frowning. Xemnas had apparently lost himself in thought, for he did not speak for nearly half a minute, poised like a statue in his chair. Xigbar and Saïx knew better than to interrupt him, and at last he roused himself and sat forward, looking down at the pair of them.

“We will not set Xion’s Keyblade aside prematurely,” he said. “However, when it becomes necessary to repurpose the Replica, we shall do so. It knows our secrets, and could jeopardize our plans if it becomes unpredictable. Once Kingdom Hearts nears completion, we must put it to another use.”

“What about Roxas?” Xigbar asked. He had been following the discussion with a wry expression, and sat casually leaned back in his chair, as if barely interested. “Kid’s got a good head on his shoulders, but he’s stubborn. Could get himself into trouble with Sora. And if we’re gonna recycle Poppet, I don’t think we want our only other Keyblade wielder out of commission too.”

“Roxas was not meant to become aware of Sora before I deemed him ready,” Xemnas said. “Still, the situation is far from hopeless. Merely…unexpected.”

He looked to Xigbar.

“Continue monitoring Roxas,” he told him. “Report anything out of line.” To Saïx, he added, “Be sure to assign Xion as many opportunities for heart collection as possible. We must make the most efficient use of it that we can.”

“Understood.” Saïx exhaled through his nose, his gaze hardening. “So. The thing will keep pretending to be one of us.”

“For the moment.” Xemnas settled back in his seat, closing his eyes. “The time approaches when we will need to shorten the leash. Perhaps even tighten it. But for now, the only steps we need take are two: watch, and wait.”

Chapter Text

“It’s simple chemistry,” Vexen was saying, “though perhaps difficult to appreciate. And frankly, watching a comparable reaction in isolation would be far more educational than simply gawking as you are.”

If they were listening, they didn’t show any sign of it. Roxas held the heavy book out with both hands as if it were a hymnal, brow furrowed as he studied each step-by-step instruction. Xion flitted between reading over his shoulder and bouncing on her heels, as she was only just tall enough to peer over the counter, and couldn’t see what Vexen was working on without jumping. Vexen put a hand on the top of her head, steadying her when she tried to hop again.

“Calm down, girl. It’s only just coagulated.”

“Does that mean we can add the rest now?”

“In a moment.” Vexen turned off the burner. “First let’s see whether either of you were paying attention yesterday. What sort of substance is this, chemically?”

“A colloid,” Xion said at once.

“Very good. Which is?”

“Something with little pieces of stuff in it,” Roxas volunteered. “Like—particles of something else. But they all stay floating around evenly, they don’t sink to the bottom.”

“Oversimplified, but correct. I don’t suppose you remember the different classifications of colloids, then?”

“Foam,” said Roxas. “Um, sol…aerosol…and the other one. The one that’s two liquids put together.”

“An emulsion,” Xion said. “Like mayonnaise.”

Vexen looked pleased.

“Well. I suppose you were listening, then. Wonders never cease.”

“Can I stir it now?” Xion asked, bouncing again. Vexen chuckled.

“Persistent, aren’t you? Very well.” He handed her the large bowl. “Be sure to mix it evenly. The more air you work into it, the softer the final product will be.”

He hadn’t let them have a hand in thickening the custard over the burners, and so Xion accepted this new responsibility solemnly, churning the lukewarm mixture with her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. Roxas propped the cookbook on the edge of the counter and ran his finger down the colorful chart.

“We really can make any flavor,” he announced. “We just have to add the right ingredients.”

“We’re making sea salt!” Xion said at once. “We already have all the stuff.”

“Yeah, but what about next time?” Roxas flipped the page, where the table of suggestions continued for another page and a half. “We can make any flavor we’ve ever seen. We could even make a brand new flavor. Anything we wanted…”

“Don’t let all that power go to your head,” said Vexen. “Though I hope now you’ve a better appreciation for the breadth of chemistry’s practical applications.”

He talked them through the details of it, describing how salt lowered the freezing point of water as Roxas sprinkled it into the mixing bowl grain by grain. A series of taste tests confirmed they’d found the right balance of salt at last, and Roxas took over mixing while Xion helped Vexen tidy up. By the time they’d finally put everything away, Roxas’s arm was tired. He and Xion took turns using a spatula to transfer the gooey white mass into a container.

“It’s the wrong color, though,” Roxas lamented, scraping the last out. “It’s supposed to be blue, like the ocean.”

“Actually, it isn’t. You could have dyed it chemically if you’d wanted that effect, but this is what it ought to look like.”

“As long as it tastes good,” Xion said, and sampled it with her pinkie finger. “That’s what matters.”

“Indeed.” Vexen allowed himself to lick the spatula, making Xion laugh. Roxas consulted the recipe.

“It says now we have to freeze it overnight. Or for at least six hours.” He pulled a face and set the cookbook down on the lab table. “Man…six hours? So we can’t have any until tomor—”

A sudden blast of cold air made him yelp, backing away and wiping frost from his eyelashes.

“It’s ready,” said Vexen smugly.

He was not sure when it began, looking back. He hardly noticed it at first, chalking it up to a short night’s sleep or a long day’s work, but after two weeks of being a little more tired than usual, Roxas was forced to admit to himself that perhaps he was starting to overdo it. It wasn’t anything to be surprised by, really, given how tough their missions had gotten.

“I dunno what it is,” he mused in the lab. “I’ve just been kind of off lately.”

“Maybe you’re getting sick,” Xion said.

“In which case, stay away from me,” came Vexen’s voice from behind a cabinet. “I can’t afford to be laid low with whatever it is you’ve contracted.”

“Wow, thanks. How about I sneeze on your equipment when you’re not looking?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Xion giggled, and Roxas laughed it off, but when he woke the next morning, it was almost as if he hadn’t slept at all.

For all the comfort of routine, this new sensation dogged him across all his missions, sometimes waning but never quite disappearing altogether. In Agrabah one day he wore out so quickly that it took him hours longer than usual to hit quota, and he very nearly skipped going to the clock tower, only stopping by on the off chance that Xion had waited this long for him. To his surprise, he found her still sitting there, outlined in red against the tail end of the sunset. She perked up when she saw him.

“Tough day?” was all she asked. Roxas sighed and flopped down beside her, not even caring that there was no ice cream to be had, just glad to be sitting down after being under the hot desert sun for hours.

“Not tough...just long. Had a hard time keeping up with the Heartless.”

“Are you still feeling under the weather?”

“Yeah. Think it’s gotten worse these past few days, actually.”

He could feel her looking at him, and deliberately didn’t meet her eye until she scooted closer to him and touched his leg.

“Roxas, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You're really, really okay?”

Roxas laughed tiredly and rubbed the side of his head.

“Okay, you're starting to weird me out.”

“Why?”

“Since when do you ever worry about me?”

“Well, excuse me!”

She gave him a typical playful jab on the shoulder, but it wasn’t quite as firm as usual, and the concern writ across her face made Roxas shake his head apologetically. Beneath them, the sunset glittered against the face of the tower’s huge clock, making it shine like gold.

“Just feels strange, that's all,” he said, and shrugged. “Usually I do all the worrying over you. I don't think it's ever been the other way around before.”

“Well, for your information: I worry about you all the time, Roxas.”

Her tone—matter-of-fact, yet mildly offended—sounded so much like Vexen that Roxas had to laugh again.

“Lighten up, Xion. I’ll get over it.” He leaned back on the heels of his hands and admired the red horizon, asking, “So what about you? How was your mission?”

“Nothing exciting happened. I just took out a big group of Heartless at the Coliseum.”

“Yeah? Did Phil make you do push-ups afterwards?”

“He’s never bothered me,” Xion said, and her voice finally eased. “I actually know how to stay out of sight, unlike you…”

“Oh, please.”

They laughed and talked as the sun inched below the horizon, deepening the shadows in the town below and turning the woods on the outskirts into a smear of darkness into which black dots glided one by one, all that could be seen of the many birds going home to roost. Despite his exhaustion, Roxas was glad he’d come. Laughing with Xion made it all a little better; he was no less weary physically, but something inside him seemed to weigh less with every joke they shared. As the first few stars woke above them, they finally lapsed into contented silence, and Xion craned her head back to gaze up at the swiftly darkening sky.

“How long do you think it’ll be until we’re done with Kingdom Hearts?” she wondered aloud, still staring above them, as if looking for the object in question. Roxas yawned.

“I dunno, but I hope it’s pretty soon. It’ll be nice to do something every day other than bash Heartless to pieces.”

He yawned again. The thought of falling into bed was just as tempting as ice cream had ever been. Even without a heart, he decided, he would feel very glad to get some sleep.

Xion might be worried, but it was nothing. He was just tired, that was all.

“You really can’t do anything about it?” Xion asked. “I mean...they’re not my memories, so it doesn’t seem right to keep seeing them over and over in my sleep. Isn’t there a way you could...I don’t know. Maybe take them out of me somehow?”

Vexen disappeared from sight beneath a counter. Xion, sitting on a stool with her legs dangling off the floor, kicked lightly as he reappeared carrying a large, heavily stained tome. Roxas had already left the lab, claiming he could barely stay on his feet after a particularly trying mission. Xion had stuck around, and as she’d had a particularly vivid dream of the Destiny Islands the night before, the subject of Sora’s memories had come up again.

“Oh, I could,” Vexen said, in reply to her question. He set down the heavy book and flipped through it quickly, his large eyes darting back and forth across the pages. “But the results wouldn’t be pretty. And in any case, Sora’s memories have helped shape your development. Why do you think you look like his friend Kairi, hm?”

The question surprised her, and Xion reached up and touched her cheek.

“I’ve never thought about it,” she admitted. “I can’t remember anything from before I looked like this.”

“Well, that face of yours is no accident. When you first began having contact with Roxas, you assimilated a large proportion of Sora’s memories of Kairi, relative to the kinds of memories he was losing in total. The ratio is quite different now, but it seems it was a strong enough effect in the early stages to have determined your basic appearance. If you’d gotten a different subset of memories early on, it’s likely you’d look like Roxas or Sora himself—as you were supposed to.”

“So I’m not really me?” Xion leaned sideways to look at her own reflection in the scuffed metal of the lab tabletop, her blue eyes widening. “My face comes from someone else?”

“Yes, your features come from someone else—just like every other being in existence. It hardly makes you special, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

She hadn’t been thinking this at all—rather the opposite—but the sheer offhandedness of his reply was reassuring. She knew she was a “copy,” but had rarely thought about what that meant; comparing herself to Roxas had always made it obvious she was her own person. Realizing there was another girl out there with her exact face was unnerving at first blush, but…should it be?

Vexen had explained basic genetics once, during one of his many evening lectures, and in remembering it, Xion realized that looking like Kairi didn’t seem to matter all that much. She looked like Kairi, and Kairi looked like both of her parents, and Kairi’s parents looked like their parents, on and on and on—and none of them had any say at all in what hair color or nose shape or body type they’d been doled out. If she happened to look almost exactly like Kairi, well—that was what being a clone was, wasn’t it? It happened all the time with real people, too. Twins. When she thought about it, Xion realized, looking like someone else wasn’t strange at all. Everyone else did, too.

She rubbed her cheek again, then touched her hair, pulling away a strand of it that had come loose. Its blackness pleased her. Kairi’s hair, she knew from her dreams, was burnished red.

“Believe me,” Vexen was saying, “if correcting this inconvenience were as simple as performing maintenance on you, I would have done it. But in the end you’re only a receptacle, not the source of the problem. If a sink is overflowing, you have to fix the faucet, not the basin. You follow the logic?”

“Yes.” She let the strand of hair fall. “It’s amazing that memories can be that powerful…”

“Truly a fascinating field of research.” Vexen finally found the page he’d been looking for and ran a thumb down it, skimming down a column of data. “I devoted quite a bit of my previous existence to it, and still felt that I barely scratched the surface. Much more work needs to be done before we have a clear picture of the ways in which memories influence the heart, and vice-versa.” He glanced up at her as he added, “If I ever publish anything else on the subject, I guarantee you will be several chapters all on your own.”

Xion wasn’t sure what to make of this, but it at least sounded like a compliment, and she perked up as she watched him pore over the book for another minute before shoving it aside with the others.

“It’s hard to believe all these memories I’ve gotten have all come from just one person,” she admitted. “I haven’t existed that long, so I don’t have that many memories of my own. If I had as many as Sora does, I don’t know how I’d ever keep track of them all.” A thought occurred to her. “Hey, what about you, Vexen? How many memories do you have? It must be a lot, since you’re so much ol—um, more experienced.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked up, one eyebrow raised as he scowled.

“What sort of question is that? Even if I’d ever tried to count—that isn’t how memory works at all.”

“Well, then…What’s your first one?”

“Pardon?”

“Your first memory.” She tucked her legs up to her chest, hugging her knees, watching him with sudden interest. “Mine is of Roxas. When we went on our first mission together. I remember watching him the whole time, just looking at his face. It was like everything else was blurry, and he was the only thing I could really see.” She tilted her head. “What about you? What’s the first thing you remember?”

Vexen snorted, his mouth thinning.

“A foolish question if there ever was one,” he told her, “and I’m not even sure of the answer. I suppose my earliest memory would be something like…”

But his gaze grew unfocused, and Xion shifted, waiting for the answer he seemed to be digging for despite himself. He held one elbow and tapped his temple, staring at the scuffed metal floor.

“Snow,” he said finally. His tone was uncharacteristically hesitant, as if he were having to drag the thought up from the depths word-by-word. “It snowed one evening, when I was…Well, I can’t be sure. Very small. It fascinated me. I remember being outside with my mother, watching it come down, asking her what it was. Our winters were mild, so I’d never seen it before.”

He seemed to come back to himself, because the distant look in his eyes vanished, and he frowned at Xion with renewed emphasis, squinting with one eye.

“And that is an excellent demonstration of how pointless such questions are. What data did that anecdote give you that you didn’t have before?”

“Um, none, I guess. I was just curious.” She had tucked her knees up to her chest, and now rested her chin on them. “It’s so hard to imagine having that many memories. Years and years and years…”

She fell silent, thinking, and Vexen’s annoyed expression softened as he watched her. Finally he sighed and shook his head, muttering to himself as he turned away to rummage through a lower cabinet, adding the clink of glass and metal to his own voice as background noise in the otherwise silent lab.

“Well, there’s no sense in you straining your mind over it,” he said, reappearing with an armful of beakers. “Regarding Sora’s memories, there’s nothing you can do one way or the other, and they shouldn’t have any detrimental effect on you after the repairs I did last time. You’ll continue having vivid dreams now and again, but nothing worse than that.”

He set the beakers down in a pile on the table, sorting through them, apparently looking for one in particular.

“As for Roxas: I expect that Sora will continue affecting him, though exactly how remains to be seen. It’s quite the interesting experiment, accidental though it may be. I can only hope the boy does as he’s told and keeps writing everything down. Even if I could only get a month’s worth of data, that would still be invaluable in such a unique case as this…”

But Xion was not listening, and Vexen finally noticed when there was no nod or murmured reply to his lecturing. He harrumphed and tapped the top of her head, making her jump.

“Oh-ho? Daydreaming, are we? Don’t ask me questions if you aren’t going to pay attention to the answer.”

She looked guilty as she rubbed the top of her head.

“Um, sorry. I was just thinking.” She looked up at him. “You mentioned your mother…She’s the person who made you, right? The way you made me.”

Vexen laughed, and had to set the last few beakers down in a heap to keep from dropping them.

“No, no. Not at all in the way that I created you. But I suppose it is fair to say she ‘made’ me. In a very technical sense.” He regarded her, amused. “Why do you ask? It’s of no relevance to you at all.”

“It is, though.” Xion shifted to sit cross-legged on the stool. “That’s what I was thinking about. I came from you, so knowing where you came from is kind of like knowing more about myself. Because if she hadn’t made you, then you wouldn’t have made me, and then I wouldn’t be here at all, so…it’s just like with Sora’s memories, isn’t it? It’s all connected, like a long chain.”

“Hm. Perhaps so.” Vexen regarded her skeptically. “But I’m afraid the subject is one facet of your curiosity that I won’t indulge. The past is of no use to us, haven’t I made that clear?”

Xion had apparently been expecting this roadblock, for she sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“No one in the Organization ever talks about the past,” she said. “Is it really such a big secret?”

“Not a secret, no. Merely a worthless activity.”

“Why?”

“Because all of that is of no consequence to us now. Weren’t you listening?” His tone sharpened. “It’s practical to remember it, of course, but actively dwelling on it is another matter—one that accomplishes nothing. There’s no benefit to be gained by reflecting on such things.”

“So you really never think about any of it? The place where you’re from, all the people you knew before…”

“No. I don’t.”

Xion sighed again.

“Well…do you at least remember what it was like before? Wherever you’re from? I know that if it were me, I wouldn’t want to forget any of that, no matter what.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, girl. How can you make such a bold claim? You’ve no home to forget in the first place.”

“I know that. But…” She bit her lip, thinking. “I have you and Roxas. Even if something happened and I could never see you two again, I’d still want to remember everything about you. I don’t think I could just…never think or talk about you ever again. If you have all those years of memories, but you don’t ever use them, then…it’s just like not having any memories at all. Isn’t it?”

Vexen gave her a sharp look, but said nothing. He seemed perplexed, and Xion watched him to gauge his reaction before tentatively trying another question.

“The place you were from, where you made all your memories…Was it nice, at least?”

“Yes. I suppose so.” Vexen exhaled through his nose, as if glad this was all she’d asked. “The weather was generally pleasant. The city I lived in was remote, but prosperous. Famed for its flowers.” He tapped a stack of papers against the tabletop, aligning them. “Those of us who were born there were fortunate. There were many places elsewhere on our world that were much more difficult to live. But as I said—all of that’s irrelevant now. And I won’t hear any more questions about it, either. Do I make myself clear?”

Not even her disappointed expression could sway him, though he turned away to avoid having to contend with it, grumbling as he pulled a sheaf of papers out of a stack and flipped through them simply to avoid looking at her.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” he asked aloud, more to himself than anything. “All this talk of memories…Is this really all to do with Sora?”

“Yes. It just seems…wrong, I guess.”

“What does?”

“That Sora’s memories are so important to me. I’ve never even met him.” She shifted in her seat. “Even though I don’t know him at all, his memories are a big part of me. But you made me, so it seems like it’s your memories that should matter the most to who I am. But...they don’t. I don’t even know what any of them are.”

Vexen exhaled through his nose, then bent to be nearer her eye level, to emphasize the importance of his next words.

“Listen to me, Xion. I understand your curiosity, but this is a line of inquiry that leads nowhere. The man I was and the world he was from are both long gone, and nothing about them should matter to you in the slightest. Your sole concern should be your duties within the Organization.”

“I know.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, defeated. “I’m sorry for wondering. I can’t help it. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I just care.”

She said it with a sigh, resigned and embarrassed, as if it were some reflex over which she had no control. Vexen seemed unable to decide how to respond, and finally settled for shaking his head and turning away without saying anything, though the sharp look he gave her had something else in it, a bewilderment that ran deeper than merely seeing a single data point as an outlier. He rifled through his papers, muttering quietly.

“Vexen? Can I ask one more question?”

The audacity of it astounded him, so that he stopped shuffling papers to stare at her, still sitting on the stool. Her determined expression made him huff and shake his head, his hair swaying.

“I’ve taught you too well,” he grumbled, and pointed the stack of papers at her. “All right. One more question, and then you’re to drop the subject permanently. What in the worlds is it?”

“The person who made you…Do you think she would have liked me?”

This made him burst into sudden, surprised laughter, startling Xion.

“You’ve such…odd…notions!” he managed, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand as he struggled to compose himself. Xion looked confused, but did not interrupt him, and when he recovered he smiled at her in weary amusement, without any authority, disarmed. As if for the first time in a long time, he had no idea what to make of something he’d observed.

“My mother is dead, Xion. But yes—I think she would have liked you very much.”

“I never imagined Sora's Nobody and the other one would fight so hard to be their own people,” Naminé admitted. “Unfortunately, the only real solution...is for them both to go away.”

She intertwined her fingers, gazing down at a half-finished drawing in front of her on the table.

“Did you know her face was blank at first? Only now can you see someone. That proves some of Sora's memories are inside her. Some inside her, some inside Sora…others inside Sora's Nobody…I can't sort it out anymore. All I can do is pick up the pieces once what has to be done, is done.”

“All right, then.”

She looked up as Riku, on the other side of the long table, pushed his chair back.

“You’re sure there’s no way Sora can be whole again without them?” he asked. She nodded.

“Without the rest of his memories, there’s not much more I can do now. He’ll stay asleep like this forever. Asleep, and…forgotten. By everyone, except for you.”

“And there’s no way to do it without getting rid of them both?”

“It might…be possible,” Naminé admitted, touching her fingertips together. “But with things the way they are, Sora’s memories so tangled up in both of them…It would take me years. DiZ would be furious, and I don’t know if…if Sora would survive that long. By the end of it, even if I put all the pieces back correctly…he might not be himself anymore.”

Riku said nothing. Silhouetted in his black coat against the white walls and ceiling and floor of Naminé’s room, he looked like a photo negative as he stood and made for the door. Before he reached it, darkness reached up from the floor to take him away.

Her gaze fell to the drawing she’d been working on, of a tall black-clad figure standing between two smaller ones, a hand on each of their heads. Pale fingers reached out for a crayon that had rolled across the table.

Riku cornered her in the forest outside of Beast’s Castle, appearing silently between the trees ahead of her once she’d cleared the last of the Heartless. Only reflex kept his blade from slicing her, the tip instead grazing her coat, cutting thinly like the edge of a razor. Xion staggered back with a cry and ducked behind a tree trunk just in time for it to absorb the next blow from his sword, raining withered autumn leaves.

She put enough distance between them to leave her well out of the treeline, calling her Keyblade to knock aside a projectile he threw from beneath the branches. He didn’t join her in the clearing, lurking instead just inside the forest, where the dappled moonlight broke the silhouette of his coat and kept him camouflaged, like a stalking predator. Only the reflection of moonlight against the flat side of his weapon gave away his position.

“What are you doing here—Riku?”

The use of his name gave him pause. The imposter hesitated, his sword falling to hang at his side, but in the distance and darkness she could not tell what sort of expression he wore in answer to her challenge. Wind passed through the clearing, rustling the knee-high grass around Xion, rattling the withered branches of the trees.

“Where’s the other one?” came his voice. “The boy who came here with you.”

“What do you want with Roxas?”

“The same thing I want with you.” The curved edge of his bat-wing blade glistened in the moonlight. “I told you to find another crowd. Now it’s too late. You’re coming with me.”

He readied his weapon above his head, leaving his whole body unguarded, everything in his posture daring her to hurtle back into the forest. Xion knew better after their last fight. She steadied her nerves and kept the Keyblade in front of her, held at a diagonal across her body to preemptively block any magic he might throw.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he said.

Her blast of magical fire startled him, singeing the dead branches around him before fading away. He answered with darkfire, a sphere of it burning black-and-white inside his fist before ripping a path through the trees, splashing against the trunk she dove behind just in time. The supernatural unheat of it sent goosebumps up her flesh beneath her coat.

She waited, listening, hardly daring to breathe. He did not seem to be making an effort at stealth, for she could count his steps by the crackle of the forest litter, and when he sounded close enough she brought the Keyblade down, leaping out from behind the tree.

Riku barely parried her stroke in time, though he only needed one hand to do it. She pressed forward anyway, determination flaring inside her, the metal of their blades screeching as they scraped together.

“I said—the next time—we fought—” She put all her weight into it, forcing him to give ground. “I’d beat you!”

They struggled. To Xion’s dismay, her resolve meant little; Riku was older, stronger. She strained with her whole bodyweight to press him back, but could tell he was keeping her at bay with less effort than she herself needed to press him. Her only satisfaction came from seeing a bead of sweat trickle down his temple from beneath the side of his blindfold.

“You’ve gotten stronger. I’ll give you that.” He sounded strained, but only just. “But it’s not enough.”

He pulled hard sideways on his weapon, ducking at the same time. The motion used his bodyweight to twist her Keyblade out of her hands, and before Xion could call it back, he blasted her in the chest with another ball of darkfire, sending her thudding against the hard-packed earth, the thick grass not cushioning the impact enough to keep it from knocking the wind out of her. Xion lay dazed, her head reeling. She had to get up, but she was winded, she couldn’t breathe—

Riku’s blade came down near her head—perhaps to pin her to the ground by the coat—Xion rolled away just in time. He grabbed the back of her coat, and she twisted beneath him, kicking his arm away and casting Thunder. At point-blank range the spell hurt her too, making her cry out in pain, but it was also enough to make Riku let go of her coat with a groan. Electricity crackled up his arm, sparking like fireflies in the cool night air.

“Why are you here?” Xion gasped, forcing her voice to work as she scrambled back to her feet. She summoned the Keyblade back into her hand. “Why do you want to hurt me?”

“I don’t. But this is the only way.”

He tried to knock her legs out from under her with the flat of his sword, but she blocked it and surged forward, crying out, the shaft of the Keyblade catching the moonlight like a beacon. In her desperation she traded strength for speed, raining as many blows from as many angles as she could, and though Riku parried most of them, she hit him twice—once in the leg and once in the side, not powerful enough to hurt but enough to slow him. She could feel his gaze boring into her through the blindfold.

“You’re still a sham!” she yelled. “Just because you’re human doesn’t mean you’re stronger!”

“That’s enough.”

He threw himself against her, so swift and sudden that she could not dig her heels into the ground in time. His weight tossed her backwards, and as she fell she twisted, trying to catch herself, his sharp blade coming down against her back.

But the blow never landed. Xion scrambled away as Riku leapt in the other direction, dodging a thrown Keyblade that would have hit his head had he not moved, melting into the darkness beneath the trees.

“Pick on someone your own size!” Roxas yelled. Riku sized him up.

“Guess that rules you out, then.”

It was impossible to tell exactly what he was looking at beneath the blindfold, but his gaze seemed to move between Roxas and the nearby Xion (on the ground but still holding a Keyblade), calculating. He took a single step backward.

“You’re Sora’s friend, aren’t you?” Roxas called. “Where is he hiding?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“I deserve to know!” Roxas yelled. “He’s a part of me, isn’t he?”

“Maybe. But my job is to protect him…even from himself.”

Roxas charged. Riku dodged with seemingly little effort, melting in and out of the darkness between the trees as fluidly as a Heartless, and by the time Roxas whirled back around he had vanished completely, the spotted shadows beneath the rustling branches no longer concealing him. Roxas stayed alert, but the sound of Xion struggling to get up behind him finally made him turn his back on the forest.

“Thanks, Roxas. I was almost a goner.”

“Don’t sweat it.” He helped her to her feet, though the act took more strength out of him than it should have. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

She managed a smile. Roxas rummaged for the last potion in his coat pocket, and she drank it gratefully, color returning to her cheeks. Roxas kept an eye on the surrounding forest, but Riku did not reappear, nor did any Heartless. The only sounds were the wind in the trees and the last of the evening’s crickets.

“So that was our famous imposter, huh?” he asked her, when she’d pulled herself together. “He seems like a tough customer. Good thing I came to check why you were taking so long.”

“Yeah.” Xion winced and cradled her side, where one of Riku’s blows had landed hard. “Riku’s so strong…Vexen was right. I don’t think any of us could beat him all by ourselves.”

“What was he doing here? Why did he attack you?”

“I don’t know. But he seemed like he was waiting out here for me…like it was a trap. He said something about…” She tried to remember through the adrenaline. “He said I had to go with him, and it was ‘the only way.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

They both looked to the spot where Riku had vanished, but there was only the ordinary darkness of night beneath the trees, not the deeper darkness of a portal to elsewhere in the universe.

“I don’t know,” said Roxas grimly, “but we need to tell Vexen.”

They skipped the clock tower and had their ice creams in the lab, talking over each other as they recounted the incident blow-by-blow. Vexen listened with one hand on his chin, frowning instead of wearing his usual odd smile.

“You’re quite certain he said as much?” he pressed them. “He mentioned Sora directly?”

“Yeah. For sure.” Roxas munched on the last of his ice cream. “He said something about—having to protect him.”

“Hmph. So wherever he is, Riku’s been guarding him. Not surprising, but it does complicate our search.”

“Is the Organization still looking for Sora?”

“Yes. We need not trouble ourselves with him so long as the pair of you are among us, but the Superior seems to find the boy particularly interesting. And strategically, it would be wise to know where he is, even if we don’t intend to make further use of him.”

“I still don’t understand why Riku would attack Xion and me,” said Roxas. “If he’s trying to protect Sora, why come after us? It’s not like we’re some kind of threat.”

“Maybe we are,” said Xion, realization dawning. “Roxas—we’re still getting Sora’s memories, aren’t we? And if Sora can’t be himself without them, I bet Riku would want to try and get them back, since Sora is his best friend.”

“Very perceptive of you, girl,” said Vexen. “I expect you’re right. If Riku is aware of what the pair of you are, he may think you hold the key to restoring his friend to health.”

“Do we?” asked Roxas.

“I should think so, yes. Without the memories you and Xion have begun carrying—and without you, Roxas, in your entirety—Sora can never be whole.”

“So we’re hurting him?” Xion asked. This revelation took her aback. “I’ve never thought of it like that. I’m hurting someone I don’t even know…”

“It’s not like that, Xion,” said Roxas. “This isn’t our fault. It’s just some stupid…thing that’s happening, that’s all.”

“Roxas is right. You can hardly blame yourself for this state of affairs.” He looked between them, then put a hand atop each of their heads. “You did well to bring this to me. I’ll take it through the proper channels. In the meantime, I advise you two to be extra vigilant on your missions from now on. If Riku’s truly determined to revive Sora, then you’ll both be his targets for the foreseeable future.”

“Didn’t he take out some of the people who went to Castle Oblivion with you?” Roxas asked.

“He did. And I can only imagine he’s honed his powers further since then. The boy’s command of the darkness is a force to be reckoned with.”

He let go of them both, though his expression remained stern.

“I’ll see about having the lessers set on Riku’s trail; that ought to keep him from following you so easily. But regardless, you must both be wary. I very much doubt the lessers will be able to do Riku any lasting harm. All they can do is make his quest for you more difficult.”

“I can take him on,” said Roxas defiantly. “If he comes after Xion again, he’ll regret it.”

“Don’t be hard-headed, boy.”

“I’ll protect you too, Roxas,” Xion insisted, “if he comes after you. We’ll look out for each other.”

“A foolish notion,” said Vexen sharply. “Both of you, don’t enter into battle if he challenges you again. Flee and report the incident.”

“Why are you telling us to chicken out?” Roxas demanded. “Don’t we all have orders to get rid of Riku if we see him?”

Vexen poked Roxas in the chest.

“Chicken out, indeed. Frankly, boy, I don’t care what the standing orders are. I’m the only one in this Organization who’s witnessed Riku’s true power firsthand, and I assure you that taking him on alone, if he’s truly determined to end you, would be a fool’s errand. I won’t have either of you putting yourself in that kind of danger, do I make myself clear?”

Roxas was not listening, his expression sour. He sat up straighter when a thought struck him.

“Vexen, could Sora beat Riku in a fight?”

“It has been observed, yes. Why?”

“Then that proves I can beat him too. If Sora could win, and I’m a better version of Sora…”

Vexen snorted.

“That’s quite the leap of logic, even for you. Besides, you’d play right into his hands by seeking him out.”

“Then we could set a trap or something.”

“We could indeed. But that,” he poked Roxas again, “is a tactical matter best left to your superiors. If the powers that be want to eliminate the threat Riku poses, let it be on them to decide a method. In the meantime, you two are to be sensible and keep away from him.”

Roxas grumbled, unwilling to start a lengthy argument, and Xion nodded. Vexen looked between them, his sharp gaze lingering on the surly Roxas.

“Riku is dangerous,” he insisted. “Whatever you saw in your skirmish with him today, I can assure you it’s only a fraction of his full potential. The darkness in his heart is matched in power only by one other…” He paused. “Well. Suffice to say he’s not a threat to be taken lightly.”

Vexen turned away, leaving Roxas and Xion to exchange looks behind his back. Xion looked concerned, but Roxas’s frustration had not ebbed, and he frowned up at the ceiling of the lab, leaning back against the hard edge of the metal table.

“Well, I’m not running away. If that jerk shows up on one of my missions, I’m giving him a taste of his own medicine.”

DAY 277: The Imposter

Riku attacked Xion out on my mission with her today. He wants us both gone so he can make Sora whole, and we have to be on the lookout for him from now on.

First Sora messes with my head, and now his friend is attacking Xion and me. I’m sick of it, and I’m not going to let him hurt Xion. I never asked for Sora’s memories anyway. It’s not like I want to keep stealing them.

I wish I felt more like myself. I’d go find Riku on my own and stop him. But these days, I’m just so tired.

The threat of Riku hung over Roxas and Xion like a dangling sword, and Roxas quickly came to hate it. Being weak and tired was an inconvenience, but being prey was a new and decidedly unpleasant experience. More than once he caught himself acting downright jumpy out on his missions, and it took him longer to kill enough Heartless to fill quota now that every shadow in the corner of his eye had become a potential threat. The other members reported a glimpse of Riku now and then, but only rarely, and the knowledge that Riku had Dusks and others on his tail did nothing to assuage Roxas’s sense of unease. Riku was after him specifically—and worse, after Xion too.

“You didn’t even try to fight him?” Roxas demanded of Demyx, when Demyx mentioned he’d seen him in Never Land. “You know he’s a big threat, right?”

“Yeah, totally! That’s why I stayed away, y’know? To uh, observe the target from a distance.”

The whole situation ate at Roxas in a way he couldn’t explain, and hadn’t ever experienced before. It wasn’t the danger of it, exactly. After all, he’d faced plenty of danger before. But until now, it had always been in the form of Heartless—the danger they posed immediate, their actions instinctual and mindless for all their size or ferocity. Riku was different. He could think and plan, and could theoretically appear anywhere. Fighting a huge monster was one thing, but it was another to have the constant thought in the back of his mind that at any moment, when his guard was down, he might be attacked by another person.

Then there was Sora. Roxas’s memory-visions were no more intense, but lately there had been more and more of them, parading through his dreams so vividly that he often woke feeling like he’d done no sleeping at all. Xion did not seem to be sharing in that particular effect; though she dreamed nearly as much as he, and even more strongly, they did not tire her, nor did she ever see any memories while awake.

“It’s just this constant thing, you know?” Roxas tried to explain. “Especially when I’m asleep. Half the time I don’t even remember anything about it when I wake up, but I know it happened, because I have all these impressions in the back of my head. It’s like…” He searched for a metaphor. “It’s like water flowing through a tube or something. It’s all so much, so fast, and I can’t even focus on any of it.”

“That’s how my dreams were when I was passed out.” A tram passed out of the station below them, whistling loudly, and Xion waited until it had left before saying, “Roxas, that sounds like it’s getting serious. You should definitely—”

“Tell Vexen. I know, I know.” He bit into his ice cream. “You always say that.”

“Well, it’s true. He knows about this stuff.”

“Not about me. I’m ‘unique’ or whatever.”

“But what if this is something new? We don’t know what’s going on with Sora...maybe Sora’s doing something to make this happen.” She leaned forward on the edge of the clock tower, the better to look into his face. “Is anything else wrong? Aren’t you still tired every day?”

“Only because I’m not getting enough sleep.” He shook his head. “Seriously, Xion, it’s fine. I’ll talk to him if it gets really bad, I promise.”

Unfortunately, she held him to it. When he arrived at the clock tower a week later so worn out that he actually fell asleep sitting up, Xion dragged him back to the castle, dropping him off in the lab with an extra bar of ice cream and a warning that she would check with Vexen later to make sure the conversation had happened. Exhausted and defeated, Roxas was forced to explain himself as Vexen started on his ice cream.

“I’m only here because Xion keeps bugging me about it,” he said defensively, before launching into his story. He expected Vexen to dismiss him with his usual vague annoyance, but as he complained Vexen stopped what he was working on and even stopped eating his ice cream, setting it aside.

“You’ve had no improvement at all?” he asked, oddly keen. He bent and peered closely into Roxas’s face, making Roxas start and lean backwards on his stool, his back hitting the edge of the table.

“Not really. At first I was just tired, but now I feel kind of...weaker, too. I get worn out more easily. It makes missions tough.”

“Hmm…”

But Roxas could tell that Vexen’s curiosity had alarm mingled with it, and it made him sit up straighter, despite his exhaustion.

“What’s wrong? Do you know something?”

“Nothing specific. But it’s clear that the rate at which Sora’s memories are being diverted through you is increasing.”

“How can you tell?”

“I monitor Xion.” He swept away, heading for the nearest bookshelf. “She’s been amassing a much greater number of Sora’s memories lately. To get to her, they all had to first pass through you...but I wasn’t aware the process was affecting you to this degree. I’d only been concerned with making sure my repairs were keeping the memories from affecting her. ”

It made an odd mental image for Roxas; he pictured it as a game of hot potato, memories bouncing from Sora to himself and then finally to Xion, though what a memory might look like was beyond him, and he blinked away the visual of Xion sitting on a pile of potatoes. As Vexen rummaged through the back of the shelf with increasing urgency, Roxas had to put in effort to understand what his muffled voice was saying beneath the rustle of countless papers and the thudding of books hitting the floor.

“This could be extremely important, boy. Have you been getting more frequent visions of Sora? Or any different kind of memories than usual?”

“I don’t know,” Roxas said. “I mean, I guess so? I stopped writing all that stuff down.”

“You what?”

Vexen looked so appalled that only quick reflex saved Roxas from laughing at his expression.

“I specifically told you to keep logging those incidents! I had been very much looking forward to that data—”

“What does it matter?” Roxas argued. “We can’t even do anything about it happening, right?”

“What does it matter? Hah. A better question: what could possibly be more important?”

“Gee, I don’t know. How about the fact that there’s a guy out there trying to kidnap me and Xion?” Roxas waved in the direction of the far wall, as if this somehow indicated Riku. Vexen glared at him.

“But that’s precisely the point. Why do you think Riku’s so obsessed with finding you? Because you’ve become such a volatile conduit for Sora’s memories!”

Vexen finally found whatever tome he’d been looking for, and flipped through it agitatedly as Roxas yawned and slid off the stool. The sound made Vexen look up, alarmed.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh. To bed?”

“Oh- ho! Not so fast.” He pointed at the stool. “This is an extremely urgent development, boy. I need to collect all the data I can. You’ll be going nowhere for another half an hour yet.”

The only thing that kept the exhausted Roxas from making a break for it was the knowledge that if he escaped, Xion would probably just drag him back again tomorrow.  

Research Entry 600

Sora’s memories are still escaping him—first into Roxas, and then through Roxas into Xion. My calculations indicate that if left unchecked, the process will eventually destroy one of the two.

The only real solution requires locating the Keyblade master. But I do not know what hope there is of finding him now, after we’ve already tried so long.

Both Roxas and Xion are feeling the effects of the increased memory seepage, but neither understands the real danger yet. I must discover a solution before the situation deteriorates too far.

Engrossed as he was in hunting the shelves for a particular research volume, Vexen still had enough peripheral awareness to hear the door hissing open behind him. He did not turn around, still rummaging through loose papers that had gotten crammed against the back of the top shelf.

“And what’s this, dare I ask? The pair of you ought to be sound asleep by now. If I have to make excuses to Saïx about why you’re out of bed this late…”

He looked over his shoulder as the visitor lowered his hood. He went pale.

“Lord Superior! I…This is—to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Xemnas crossed the lab without hurry, his measured stride taking him past the long workbench and tables to the far end of the room, where a pair of large, cylindrical vats salvaged from Castle Oblivion stood against the wall. One of them had been filled with soapy liquid, while the other sat dry and empty, its glass front still heavily cracked. Neither had any interior illumination, and the control panel in front of them glowed only faintly, its displays powered down. Xemnas stopped in front of the vats, looking up at them with an unreadable, passive expression. Vexen followed him, talking quickly.

“Forgive me, but I wasn’t aware you’d be coming, else I would have put some of this away. I do realize my latest report is overdue, but I assure you that once all the data are validated, I’ll have it submitted in due—”

“We need to discuss the future of the Replica Program.”

A spasm passed over Vexen’s gaunt face, quickly subdued—something like surprise or fright. Xemnas had spoken calmly, still staring up at the glass tanks, and Vexen recovered himself.

“Certainly, of course…I assume you’re ready for some new templates? With everything retrieved from the Oblivion lab, I can begin construction at once. The process will be tedious, but it shouldn’t take nearly as long as the original set. Six months of work—perhaps fewer, if there are no complications. How many Replicas will be required?”

Xemnas gazed at the two tanks, watching the water slosh gently in the unbroken one, little bubbles scurrying up from the bottom to escape at the surface.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that we should be sure the first phase is in order before moving ahead to the next.”

“Yes, of course, sir. That would be wise.” Vexen was not bold enough to draw fully level with Xemnas, instead standing diagonally behind him, just out of arm’s reach. “What sort of experiment did you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, Xemnas contemplated the empty suspension tanks. Vexen looked from them to Xemnas and back several times before shifting nervously, forcing himself not to interrupt. There was silence for less than a minute, but in the stillness of the empty lab, it seemed an age.

“It has come to my attention,” Xemnas said at last, “that our Program has had unforeseen side effects. Xion is siphoning all of Sora’s memories out of Roxas, and in consequence, sapping his powers.”

Behind Xemnas, Vexen looked taken aback. His coat rustled when he gestured.

“That…is correct, Lord Xemnas. Though, I’m not certain how you were aware…”

“I have been observing it myself for several weeks now. Strange, that you would leave such an important development out of your reports to me…”

Vexen flinched.

“I…believed it wasn’t worth mentioning, Lord Xemnas. The effect may have existed previously, but it’s only recently come to my attention…I had wanted to be certain of my observations before I…”

“Tell me what you know of this.”

Xemnas looked over at him, his golden eyes bright in the dim lab. Vexen forced himself to regain composure.

“It is—a difficult problem. When we developed the initial plan for the Program, we hadn’t expected Sora to create a Nobody…and certainly not for him to continue existing on his own even afterwards. The situation should never have been possible. Consequently, the Replica templates weren’t designed to handle a continual stream of data, such as Xion is receiving now from Sora through Roxas. Initially it affected her poorly, and I’ve fully repaired that defect. But as a result, she’s begun siphoning Sora’s memories at an ever-increasing rate, and Roxas himself is affected. As you said, it’s begun draining his power.”

Vexen waited for Xemnas to comment, but he said nothing, and Vexen pressed on. The vent above the tanks hissed quietly.

“I’ve tried several approaches to resolving the issue, but nothing’s worked so far. At this stage I’m convinced that there’s no solution to be had without acquiring the boy Sora. We need to locate him, and disassemble his memory completely and carefully. Only then could I perform the work necessary to prevent Roxas from being harmed by Xion, since Roxas himself has no control over the process. As the situation currently stands, however…I fear he may come to harm.”

“The connection to Sora is fatal?”

“It—it may become so, Lord Xemnas. I’m nearly sure of it. If the current trend continues, then at some point, Roxas could very well completely disappear. Xion will sublimate his entire existence.” Vexen gestured. “Of course, Xion herself isn’t at fault. If I had known ahead of time, I might have altered her construction, made preparations…but at this point, there is nothing I can do to her that would correct the problem. And Roxas obviously can’t be adjusted the way she can. The situation isn’t dire just yet, but I am extremely concerned.” He took a deep breath, adding, “And I fully intended to report it to you, but as I said, I need more time to observe the relationship—”

“So we must choose which one of them to keep.”

Vexen’s large eyes widened yet larger. Xemnas turned away from him to look back at the tanks, as if he could still see inside them the floating, childlike forms that had inhabited them for so long.

“I have no objection to unraveling Sora’s memory, should we find him. But for months now, our search has been fruitless. We must plan accordingly.” He touched the glass of the nearest tank. “I see a simple solution. Xion can be reset.”

“She—what? Sir?”

Xemnas folded his hands behind his back, still standing with his back to Vexen. Vexen shivered, making his reflection in the nearer tank ripple, as if the cracked glass were water into which a stone had been dropped.

“Lord Superior, what—what do you mean? She has…performed all her duties admirably. What reason could there possibly be to destroy her?”

“I did not say destroy.” Xemnas did not look at him, still staring at his own reflection in the empty tank. Or perhaps he was looking at Vexen’s reflection, a little ways beside his own. “Xion is a fine Replica, but a Replica that was meant to copy Roxas’s abilities—not compromise them. If our observations are correct, then our Replica should be reset, or else we will lose Roxas altogether.”

He turned away from the tanks, regarding Vexen evenly as Vexen swallowed. The tall Nobody’s already pale face looked cadaverous.

“Sir, I must object. It cannot—it would be—She is a highly productive member of the Organization. Her value far exceeds even our most generous expectations. Saïx can advise you of exactly how many hearts she’s gathered…It’s unthinkable to lose her contribution.”

Xemnas made a thoughtful noise.

“Perhaps you are right,” he mused. “Xion’s Keyblade has been as much of an asset to our plans as we ever dared hope. If you believe that your creation is ultimately more powerful than Roxas, we could allow him to wither away instead.”

“That isn’t—Lord Xemnas, that’s not at all what I had—”

“If they cannot exist together,” Xemnas said, silencing Vexen, “then it is only wise to weigh them against one another, and keep the more worthy one.” His golden eyes glittered. “As a true Nobody, I would prefer that Roxas stay within our fold. But this is a matter for your scientific judgement. You have observed them both closely. Do you have enough data to prove that Xion is superior to the original?”

Vexen did not answer. Xemnas waited, and the lab’s silence suddenly seemed deathly, like a mausoleum. The hissing vent turned off again, leaving only the bubbling of one of the tanks.

“They are…different, Lord Xemnas. Very different. I would rate them equally proficient with the Keyblade, but other qualities set them apart from one another. We can’t afford to lose either of them. They’re quite—quite irreplaceable.”

“Not so.” Something like curiosity flickered for the briefest moment in Xemnas’s expression, as though Vexen had said something strange. “Irreplaceable is exactly what the Program’s results are not. Roxas is unique, as Sora’s body and heart cannot again be sundered. But Xion…If the initial data is removed, the unit will again become a blank template, ready for new purpose. So if this difficulty with Sora persists, I see no reason not to reset Xion ahead of schedule.”

“Ahead of…”

Xemnas waited, but Vexen could not bring himself to finish the thought. The barest hint of curiosity returned to Xemnas’s expression.

“Was such malleability not the intent behind the Replicas? You promised they would have that feature at the outset.”

“I—yes, I did, Lord Xemnas. I recall that very well. However, that was before I had observed how they…” He cut himself off, taking a different tack. “You must understand, Lord Xemnas, I take a…a deep interest in my experiments. To terminate this one after Xion has progressed so admirably, would be…a waste.”

“How so?”

Xemnas regarded him with no expression, no hint of either curiosity or ire. He simply watched as Vexen fidgeted, and it was only when he turned away to study the tanks again that Vexen spoke up.

“Lord Xemnas, Roxas and Xion are extraordinary,” he said. “They are...more than the rest of us. Xion has exceeded her initial design in more ways than one, and Roxas is…special. Miraculous, even.”

“I am certain of it. A Nobody who yet wields the Keyblade…”

“Not only that, sir. I had meant…” Vexen caught himself, but then pressed on, a nervous urgency in his voice. “Lord Xemnas, I’ve observed both Xion and Roxas closely for months. I would not say this if I weren’t certain, but I believe Roxas has transcended his birth as a Nobody. We always knew he still held a connection to Sora’s heart, but that connection has born fruit.” He took a deep breath. “Roxas—he feels. Sir.”

He expected a reaction—perhaps surprise, or for Xemnas to at least turn and look at him. There was nothing. Xemnas only reached out and touched the glass of one of the empty tanks before him, gazing up into it intently, as if he saw something that was not there.

“Do you truly believe this?”

“I see no other explanation. It defies logic and theory both, and yet the circumstances of his creation are unprecedented. With Sora still in existence, I believe that Roxas’s connection to his former heart was enough to germinate a heart of his own.”

Xemnas said nothing. He simply stood, contemplating the Replica vats, while behind him Vexen shifted. Once Vexen made as if to approach him, and even took a step forward, but the rustle of his coat made Xemnas stir, and Vexen froze in place, waiting. Xemnas spoke.

“You are certain of your conclusion?”

“As certain as I can be,” Vexen spoke quickly. “I had always suspected it might be possible—ever since Roxas was created. Even at Castle Oblivion, I was already able to access Roxas’s own memories by sampling the other side of Sora’s heart. It confirmed to me that Roxas and Sora’s connection was extraordinarily strong. But it was only a theory, nothing more. Now the theory is much more robust. It seems that, because of Sora…”

But he did not finish. His voice trailed off into silence, and Xemnas filled it only slowly.

“If that is true…then it is another reason to keep Roxas among our number. Such a phenomenon surely deserves to be studied further. Do you agree?”

Vexen nearly did, before realizing what had been meant.

“Not—not if it will be at Xion’s expense, Lord Xemnas.”

Xemnas regarded him passively, as if he were simply one more object in the cold, sterile lab. Vexen looked as if he wanted to speak, but a glance from Xemnas quieted him, and when Xemnas spoke it was as much to himself as to Vexen, at whom he did not look.

“How many years has it been since we parted ways with ourselves? And yet, in all this time, you never lost your intellectual curiosity. I find it admirable. However…”

His tone darkened, but only a fraction. It could not have been detected by anyone unfamiliar with his voice.

“You cannot permit that curiosity to blind you to our greater goals. Our Kingdom Hearts is almost complete. We cannot do anything that would jeopardize it, when we have already come so far.”

“That is...not my intention, Superior.”

“I have given you free rein since the beginning. When we were even fewer than we are now, before we had the first hope of a plan…Even then, you were never made to waste your talents on tasks better left to others. Is that not so?”

“Yes, sir. For which I am most grateful. However, this situation warrants—”

“Your research has always been of the utmost importance,” Xemnas continued. Vexen silenced himself as suddenly as if Xemnas had shouted. “I understand this. And I also understand that Xion’s progress as a Replica has been of scientific interest to you. But this particular experiment is nearing its conclusion. Our Replica has fulfilled the Program’s purpose well, but nevertheless...It seems Xion may serve us better by taking some other form once our work with the Keyblade is done.” He looked suddenly distant, as if considering something. “So many of our Organization have already fallen by the wayside. We need every seat filled…”

He shook his head, turning away. Vexen watched him without his eyes ever wandering, as if Xemnas were a tiger, powerful and calm but with no wall or cage separating them.

“It isn’t simply my…mere curiosity, Lord Xemnas,” Vexen said hesitantly. “It’s a matter of principle. The pair them have great scientific value, yes, but that isn’t only why I observe them. They also…The both of them...” He floundered. “They’re only children, sir.”

Xemnas turned to look at Vexen over his shoulder. For the first time since entering the lab, he made an effort to mimic an emotion. Pity creased his handsome face.

“You do not care for them, Vexen. You cannot.”

“Lord Xemnas, I…” He faltered, but pressed on. “That is to say, the two are my intellectual responsibility. Xion is my creation, yes, but Roxas needs guidance as well. The rest of us have memories to steer ourselves with, but the pair of them have only their instincts, such as they are. And if Roxas has become what I believe, then surely he needs additional—”

“One does not need memories of a past in order to build a future.” Xemnas let this hang for a moment. “They do not belong to you.”

“I hadn’t…thought that, sir,” Vexen said weakly. “But nevertheless, I can’t…I couldn’t harm them. Either of them. To remove the data from Xion would destroy who she is.”

“What harm is there in wiping a slate clean? That is its reason for being.”

Xemnas moved away, his slow stride taking him past one of the long metal tables laden with scattered notes and equipment. Idly he reached out and laid a hand on the pages of an open notebook, and Vexen flinched at the action, as if he himself had been touched.

“The Replica…” Xemnas mused, gazing down at the logbook. “It was not supposed to gain a mind of its own—nor become the person we see. But in the end, perhaps it only proves the puppet is the more worthy vessel.”

“More worthy…” Vexen followed Xemnas with his gaze as he moved away from the table. “I…don’t understand, Lord Xemnas. A vessel for what, exactly?”

Xemnas did not answer.

His footsteps were the only sound in the lab as he crossed it, his movement still slow, as if he were wandering thoughtfully through a familiar museum. In the shadow of the tanks he stopped, so that when he turned to speak to Vexen, his face lay in shadow, though his eyes still shone faintly yellow, like those of a Heartless.

“Both Roxas and Xion have connections to Sora, but we only need one of them to accomplish our goal. You understand the situation best, so I ask you: shall we let Xion take from Roxas the rest of what he has to give, or erase her completely and give it all back? Either way, Sora's power will be ours. It makes no difference to me.”

A shudder passed through Vexen, and he visibly put effort into collecting himself, gesturing weakly towards Xemnas when he spoke.

“Lord Xemnas…sir…I implore you. Please reconsider the situation. Both Roxas and Xion are valuable members of the Organization. If we could only find a way to spare them both…”

“If.” Xemnas sighed as if weary, though it sounded stilted and unnatural. “I cannot move this Organization forward with ifs. We do not have Sora. We cannot hinge our plans on him, and Roxas’s condition will only worsen. If you cannot choose between them, then I shall.”

“No!”

Xemnas frowned, and Vexen swallowed hard.

“Lord Xemnas, I—that won’t be necessary. I will…I can make a determination about which of them is…more fit to carry out our purpose. But not—not now. I need time to…to take more observations. Please. I beg of you.”

“Very well.”

Vexen looked ill. When Xemnas turned away from him, he passed a hand over his gaunt face.

“When...must it be done? Sir.”

“When we have progressed a little further towards our goal. Many hearts must still be gathered, even at Roxas’s expense.” Xemnas turned back to look at him, and Vexen dropped his hand from his face. “Saïx will tell you when we have enough. Another month, perhaps. Though, if you collect enough data to make a decision sooner, you may act at your own discretion.”

Vexen swallowed again. He looked frightened, and the expression became more pronounced when Xemnas picked up one of the beakers lying empty on the nearest table, as though he thought Xemnas might toss it away or crush it in his fist. But Xemnas did nothing of the sort, and when he set it back on the table he even stood it upright, with particular care. Only when Vexen crossed to him did he look up.

“You still have objections?”

“Lord Xemnas…” Vexen made as if to reach out, but stopped himself. “Surely…there must be another way to solve this problem?”

“Can you offer one?”

Xemnas waited for an answer that did not come.

Though Vexen was taller and older, Xemnas’s presence somehow shrunk him, and he stood with head lowered and shoulders hunched, only able to meet Xemnas’s golden gaze for a moment before looking away.

“I have made my decision,” Xemnas said. “All you need do is make yours. Choose which of them we will use.”

“Superior, I’m afraid I...I can’t.”

Xemnas sighed, then reached out with both hands. Vexen stiffened, rigid and wide-eyed like an animal caught in a trap, but the hands only grasped his shoulders lightly and did nothing more—did not tighten to dig nails into his flesh, did not slide up to encircle his exposed throat.

“You only play tricks on yourself, my friend. This is for the best.” Gently Xemnas squeezed Vexen’s shoulders, as if in comfort, but there was nothing warm behind his bright eyes. “You should know better than anyone that this charade with the children accomplishes nothing. There can be no replacing the one that we lost.”

Chapter Text

“You feeling okay, Roxas? You look pretty beat.”

Roxas hid a yawn behind the back of his hand.

“Yeah, I’m hanging in there. Just tired, that’s all.”

“Did you not sleep well again?”

“I guess. I think I had a bad dream, but I can’t remember it.” He dug his knuckles into his eye socket, as if trying to press away his fatigue. “Stupid memories.”

Xion handed him his ice cream. Together they watched the rail traffic in and out of the station, lightweight trams departing for downtown and more robust trains departing for distant places unknown, the town outskirts or perhaps even other cities away across the mountains. One train in particular caught their eye, patterned differently to any others they’d ever seen—its lights more yellow than white, its sides purple and painted with stars, an odd decoration on top of its carriage that looked something like a pointed hat. They watched it until it was out of sight in the distance, talking about their day, but when silence inevitably fell, the subject Roxas had been hoping to avoid came up like clockwork.

“Vexen doesn’t know how to help you feel better?” Xion asked him. Roxas sighed into his ice cream.

“He hasn’t said anything yet. Besides, he’s still busy. That’s why he told us not to come by so often, right?” He took a bite, enjoying the salty sweetness. “He’ll tell us once he’s figured something out.”

Instead of letting Xion press the issue any further, he changed the subject, shifting to sit more comfortably on the ledge.

“Hey, did you talk to Xaldin at all today? He said he saw Riku out in the field on his mission. He tried going after him, but Riku got away...Guess he’s still out there looking for us, though.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard.”

Roxas talked around a particularly large bite of ice cream.

“That Riku guy...What’s his problem, anyway? And don’t say Sora.”

“Well, that is the problem…”

“So what if we’re messing with Sora? Sora’s messing way more with us. It’s not fair.”

“I don’t like it either, Roxas.” Xion tucked up one of her knees to rest an elbow on it, holding her chin as she contemplated the sunset. “Everything feels so complicated all of a sudden. Riku’s after us, and you’re not feeling well, and now Vexen’s being strange too...”

“You think he is? I mean, he’s always pretty strange...”

“Not like this.” Xion shook her head. “Why did he tell us not to visit him all of a sudden? And he stopped coming to the Grey Area in the morning, too. It’s like he doesn’t want to be around us anymore.”

Roxas had not been nearly as bothered by Vexen’s request for space, and could only offer a shrug as consolation.

“I dunno. He said he’s gonna be really busy for a while, right? Maybe Saïx gave him a special project or something.”

“That’s what I think too. He seems like he’s hiding something, and I don’t know what else it could be. If the Replica Program had to be classified while he was working on it, then I guess whatever he’s working on now has to stay secret, too. I bet that’s why he doesn’t want us in the lab so much. In case we learn too much about whatever it is.”

Roxas shrugged again, unsure what to make of this theory.

“You could always just ask him what’s going on,” he finally said. “Even if it’s a secret, I bet he’d tell you if you bug him enough. You’re his favorite.”

“That’s not true.”

“C’mon, sure it is. He made you, right?”

But Xion looked concerned despite the compliment, and Roxas tried to cheer her by steering the conversation to other things: recent missions, distant worlds, past discoveries. The sun set as slowly as always, and for a long time they bantered back and forth, falling into the routine of idle chatter as easily and comfortably as putting on a familiar piece of clothing. Still, nothing Roxas tried could quite dispel the hint of worry in Xion’s expression. When silence lapsed between them she heaved a sigh that said clearly her concerns had never quite left her mind.

“I don’t know, Roxas,” she said finally. “For so long I’ve been thinking about how great things will be once we’re done with Kingdom Hearts. Now there’s something weird going on with you, and then everything else that’s happening, too…” She touched the side of her head. “We’re so close . Why does all of this have to happen now?”

She didn’t let him answer, sighing again instead and dropping her hand.

“Sorry for being such a downer, Roxas. I just...worry.”

“Well, we wouldn’t have to worry if it wasn’t for Sora.” Roxas folded his arms, leaning back against a stone decoration on the corner of the clock tower. Despite the shadow he’d cast over it for two hours, it still held a hint of the day’s warmth, soothing against his back. “But I know what you mean. It’s hard to keep thinking about the future, but....we still should. It’s our future. We can’t let Sora take that away from us.”

He looked down at the plaza below, but Hayner, Pence, and Olette were nowhere to be seen.

“I still wish we could find him, though,” he admitted. “Sora, I mean. If he’s really behind all this, then if we got a hold of him…”

“Do you think that would really help? What would we even do with Sora?”

“I don’t know. I just hate doing nothing, that’s all.” Frustrated, Roxas sat forward again, staring intently at the blazing horizon. “All of this just makes me feel so...I dunno, helpless. Like I’m just sitting around waiting for Sora to completely screw up my life. Or for Riku to catch me like a rat.”

“But it isn’t really anybody’s fault, is it? Sora’s not doing it on purpose.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Roxas said emphatically. “It still stinks. I’m sick of dreaming about him.”

“It is strange to dream about someone you’ve never met,” Xion agreed. She held her ice cream stick up to the sunset. “But...who knows? Maybe Sora dreams about us, too.”

Roxas continued to not sleep well. His Sora dreams had intensified; though he could never remember the details, he always woke feeling as if he’d been doing something strenuous, acting out whatever events had played through his head. It made his usual slew of missions more challenging than they should have been as his reflexes slowed, and as Sora’s intrusions added an extra layer of difficulty to the challenge of navigating the worlds.

He was weaker, too, though it took him a while to admit it. He didn’t want to think of himself as regressing as a fighter, and yet swinging the Keyblade took more effort than it ever had before, as if each use of it sandpapered away a little bit of whatever it was inside him that gave him the strength to wield it. But it was not until he failed a mission that he was forced to confront reality.

It happened in Never Land. Saïx sent him to dispatch a large Heartless that took him an age to find, and once he did, the huge skeletal bird flew faster than he could, leading him on a wild chase around the bay that exhausted him despite his power of flight. He caught up to it three times, dealing just enough damage each time to keep him hopeful, but on the fourth attempt it counterattacked so viciously that Roxas was knocked straight down into the sea, plunging beneath the waves as it screeched at him from above. He crawled up onto one of the many rocks jutting out of the bay and lay sprawled across it, gasping, watching the Ruler of the Sky (as he thought of it) swoop back and forth across the clouds, as if in taunt. Sometimes it caused huge plumes of water to explode up from the sea around him, showering him with saltwater, but his every effort to drag himself up and hobble back into the air met with failure, either from sheer exhaustion or because the water had washed too much pixie dust off of him. In the end he had no choice but to RTC, and even that took much longer than it should have. He had to sit on the rock with his head in his hands for almost fifteen minutes before he convinced himself he could stand and summon a portal without fainting.

Saïx reacted about as well to his mission report as Roxas expected.

“I’ll rearrange the schedule and send Xion after it tomorrow. We can’t allow a Heartless that powerful to go to waste.” His eyes narrowed as he took in Roxas: ashen-faced and soaking wet, dark circles under his eyes and a piece of seaweed caught in his damp hair, visibly trembling with the effort of staying on his feet as he held on to the back of one of the Grey Area’s couches. “It seems I overestimated your abilities.”

“I'm not weak,” Roxas managed, though his voice was hoarse as he said it. Saïx’s lips thinned as he skimmed through something on his ever-present clipboard.

“Your performance lately suggests otherwise.”

For the rest of the week, Roxas found himself paired up with Xion more often than he ever had in the past. Apparently Saïx reasoned that the inefficiency of pitting both Keyblade wielders against the same target was a lesser evil than the risk of letting the weakening Roxas tackle tough Heartless all on his own. In better health Roxas would have liked getting to work side-by-side with Xion so often, but his rapid deterioration prevented it from being enjoyable. He resented the faintness that overcame him anytime he tried to do anything remotely strenuous.

“Don’t let me slow you down,” he told Xion in Halloween Town, when she paused yet again to wait for him to catch up to her.

“I won’t leave you behind.” She caught his hand when he slipped trying to scramble up the low stone wall, helping him over it.

He visited Vexen about it once, but Vexen had no more answers than he’d had when it first begun. If anything, Xion had been right, and his behavior had changed. He was oddly distant and agitated, refusing to directly engage with Roxas as he muttered and paced about the lab, answering questions over his shoulder.

“There’s nothing you can do?” Roxas asked. “You can’t...I dunno, do the same thing you did to Xion?”

“Xion is a Replica, and you are not. No, I cannot fundamentally alter you in the same way. And even if I could, it’s not a process you would survive. The only solution is to find Sora.”

So Roxas was forced to simply take his worsening condition one day at a time. The final mission in a long week of missions sent both him and Xion to Agrabah, and they emerged from the portal of darkness into the outskirts of the desert that butted up against the city, its high walls thankfully shielding them from the worst of the sun, which was already blazing despite having just risen.

“Stay close to me,” Xion told him. “We don’t know where this thing is. I don’t want to get caught by surprise.”

Their quest took them outside the city itself, into the surrounding desert. They’d explored the Cave of Wonders together before, but never gone this deep into it, working together to figure out the seemingly never-ending layers of puzzles that unlocked more rooms. As they descended each level of the cavern, they battled swarms of Heartless, and after clearing each room Roxas had to catch his breath, clutching at a stitch in his side and leaning against the Keyblade planted in the ground. Instead of the two of them spreading out to tackle each new mob individually, Xion stuck close to him, concerned.

“Don’t push yourself,” she told him, when he had to bend double after they’d cleared out a huge colony of Hook Bats. He forced himself up.

“Don't worry about me. Let’s keep going. The target’s gotta be around here somewhere.”

The deepest point of the cave turned out to be a large chamber, anticlimactically empty in comparison to the rest of the cave’s traps and treasure hoards. There wasn’t a single valuable-looking thing inside this last room, not even a statue or plinth to indicate where something may have once rested before being stolen, and though Roxas and Xion fanned out to explore, neither found anything of interest. They regrouped on the other side of the chamber.

“End of the line,” was Roxas’s assessment. Xion looked back at the other side of the room where they’d started, and noticed something that made her tug on Roxas’s sleeve.

“I remember this,” she said, her eyes widening. “Roxas—look.”

She pointed at the far wall of the cavern, and Roxas followed her gaze.

“It’s a Keyhole, see?”

“Oh, yeah.” Now that she’d pointed it out, the silhouette was obvious. “Sora sealed it up when he came here, didn’t he?”

Side-by-side they contemplated the empty wall, as if expecting it to glow as it did in the memory they shared, but nothing happened. Roxas even pointed his Keyblade at it for good measure, but apparently something more than that was required, as the dormant Keyhole did not react.

“I guess Sora did a good job locking it,” said Xion.

“Sora, Sora, Sora.” Roxas kicked a pebble with the heel of his boot, sending it skittering across the sand-strewn floor. “Everything always comes back to him.”

“It’s not his fault.”

“Oh, come on.” Roxas shook his head. “Why do you keep defending him? Aren't you sick of always having to—”

The thing fell from the ceiling with such weight and force that Roxas was knocked from his feet when it hit the ground in the center of the cavern, though Xion managed to stay standing. Roxas scrambled up as the huge, spiked ball rolled and spun like a top before crashing into one of the jutting piers of stone on either side of the room, revealing itself to be a Heartless. Roxas thought immediately of the Clay Armor he’d fought once in the Coliseum, but this creature, if similar, was clearly the Clay Armor’s nastier cousin: thicker armor, more spikes.

He and Xion drew their Keyblades in sync.

“Looks like this wasn’t a dead end after all,” Roxas said. The Spiked Crawler shook itself and clattered to its feet, its beady yellow eyes glowing brighter than the torchlight as it sensed the Keyblade nearby. Xion swung her Keyblade back and forth, as fierce and energetic as Roxas had ever seen her.

“No kidding,” she said. “Come on, Roxas, let’s go!”

She charged, and he followed, but for Roxas, it was like trying to run underwater. He could only dodge the Heartless’s attacks by staying well out of range, and actually keeping up with the darting Xion was out of the question. She was everywhere: leaping, dodging, throwing magic to stun it when it launched into one of its deadly spins, but all Roxas could do was keep back and watch, every muscle aching, clutching the Keyblade with both hands. He cast Cure when one of the Heartless’s spines grazed her, but when it whirled towards him like a spinning top, it smashed through his guard as if he weighed nothing. Roxas was sent flying, his Keyblade spinning away, and Xion had to drive the Heartless to the other side of the chamber to keep it from crushing him.

“Roxas! Are you okay?” she yelled. Roxas forced himself to his hands and knees with difficulty.

“I’m fine!” he called back, staggering to his feet. But calling the Keyblade back into his hand made his knees weaken, as if it were sucking the life out of him.

The battle ended much sooner than Roxas expected when Xion brought her Keyblade down in a mighty blow that pierced a hole in the Crawler’s thick armor. It shuddered, rattling like a bomb about to detonate, and in seconds it had blown apart in a slurry of darkness, disappearing into nothing, a single huge, shining heart rising towards the ceiling before fading with a sparkle. The strength of her own attack stunned Xion, and she stood still, gazing at the Keyblade in her outstretched hand as she caught her breath.

“H-how…How did I just do that? Where did that power come from?”

She looked over at Roxas, and her eyes widened when she saw he’d buckled to his knees. He waved her away as she ran forward, dismissing her Keyblade, but she ignored his protests and knelt beside him on the sandy floor, taking hold of his shoulders.

“Let me go, Xion, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, Roxas. Did that thing hit you?”

She helped him up, but he made a point of standing firmly on his own once she’d done so.

“I’m not hurt, Xion. Really.” Roxas forced a strained smile. “It’s just...Using the Keyblade these days…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just run out of steam.”

“You…you do?”

“It’s no problem.” He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, but had to bend double again to catch his breath as his vision suddenly blurred. Xion caught his elbow and held him steady, and he forced himself to straighten up.

“You’re getting worse, Roxas.” She peered into his pale face. “A lot worse. You said it’s the Keyblade that wears you out?”

“Come on, Xion, it’s fine—”

“It’s not fine.” She bit her lip. “Roxas, has it always been like that? The Keyblade’s the thing that makes you feel more tired?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because if we figure out what makes it worse, then we can try and fix it. Maybe you should stop using the Keyblade for a while, and we could—”

“I can’t stop using the Keyblade, Xion. You know that.”

He felt...well, he couldn’t feel anything, technically, but Roxas thought this must at least be some vague echo of what embarrassment was. Somehow Xion fussing over him made his symptoms real, or at the least more grave than he let himself admit.

“I’ll get over it,” he insisted. “C’mon, let’s head out.”

“Do you want to go straight back to the castle? You’re really pale…Maybe you should lie down.”

“Hey, no way.” He forced another smile. “Ice cream’s on me today, okay? I definitely owe you one.”

She had not seen Vexen in almost two weeks, and feared he might shoo her away without a conversation, but either it had been a long enough time since the last visit that he wanted to see her, or the pint of ice cream she’d brought was too good an offer to resist. He cleared a space at his desk and let her sit on a stool pulled up beside it, watching him alternate between eating ice cream and flipping through the data he’d apparently been working with all day.

The lab itself looked almost the same, but the pair of tanks that had been installed after Vexen’s visit to Castle Oblivion attracted her attention, as both of them seemed up and running, if not ready for actual use. She inspected them both, hoping that perhaps seeing them might trigger some long-buried memory of being in one, but nothing of the sort happened, and Vexen insisted there was no way she could have formed working memories that early in her existence.

“You’ve always said the Replica Program won’t always be classified,” she reminded him, after returning to the seat by her desk. “Do you know how much longer we have to wait? It’s weird to have to lie about it to everyone for so long.”

“If it were up to me,” said Vexen, marking the uppermost corner of the page he was writing on, “I would have told everyone long ago. All this secrecy does nothing to improve the quality of the project. But it’s not my decision.”

“I know,” Xion sighed. “I just don’t understand why we have to keep secrets from each other in the first place. The whole Organization’s working for the same goal, aren’t we?”

“So one would hope.”

He did not look at her as he continued working, and though that wasn’t unusual in itself, Xion thought there was something more deliberate in the way he completely avoided her eye, and his expression as he wrote was more drawn and tense than usual. Work had always appeared to soothe him, and sessions like this where he was simply putting his thoughts in order usually guaranteed he would be in a better mood than otherwise. Today it was not so. Xion thought he seemed distracted as he worked, sometimes stopping for long stretches to just tap the pen to the side of the table and mutter to himself, forcing his gaze away whenever it automatically darted to her. It was like he didn’t want to look at her—like looking at her reminded him of something unpleasant.

“It’s neither here nor there at this point,” he said, “and there’s no sense concerning yourself with it. Now then: are you going to keep dallying, or are you going to tell me what this visit is all about?” Off of her surprised look, he elaborated, “I’m not oblivious, you know. I specifically told you and Roxas not to be seen in here from now on. If you’ve come regardless, you must have something you want answers about.”

Caught, Xion tugged at a strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes, sweeping it back as Vexen reapplied himself to the task at hand. She could see Sora’s name in several places on the sheet of paper he was scribbling on, but couldn’t make out much more than that, and when Vexen noticed her trying to decipher it, he made a displeased noise and pulled the paper closer to himself, away from her field of view.

“I do need answers,” she admitted, shifting in her seat. “Vexen, why have I started draining Roxas’s power away?”

He glanced up the moment she spoke, looked back down at his notes—and then back up as her actual meaning registered.

“Who told you about that?” he asked sharply.

“I figured it out for myself. I’ve been paying attention to Roxas ever since he started feeling bad. I’m worried about him.” Her hands resting on her legs curled into fists. “And I finally realized that I’m what’s hurting him. Lately I’ve been getting stronger and stronger, the same way he’s been getting weaker. The other day, when we were on a mission together...”

She explained what had happened in the Cave of Wonders, and when she finished Vexen exhaled heavily, regarding her with reluctant approval. He winced and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Your observations are correct, Xion. You are draining Roxas’s power—at an ever-increasing rate, no less.”

“But why? I’m not supposed to, right?”

“Of course not. The whole business is Sora’s fault...and mine, to a certain extent.”

“Yours? What did you do?”

He dropped his hand and set his papers down on the table beside them.

“Do you recall the last time you malfunctioned? When you fell asleep.”

She nodded. “I was getting too many of Sora’s memories from Roxas, right?”

“Yes, and they affected your stability. You weren’t built to parse a constant stream of new data, after all. So I had to make some adjustments to you that would allow you to harbor as many memories as happened to leak through from Sora, without you yourself being affected by them. I succeeded, I think. You’ve shown no deterioration since then. But the downside is that with you fully stable, you’ve been able to take so much from Sora that it’s affecting Roxas as well. Roxas and Sora are still connected, after all.”

“But then, Roxas…” Xion looked concerned. “What if you hadn’t done all that to me? Would Roxas be okay now?”

“No, I think not. If I hadn’t repaired you, I expect this same effect would have still occurred, but at a slower pace. And you would have suffered some side effects yourself.”

“Is there a way to stop it from happening?”

“I’m looking very hard for one.”

“And if...you don’t find one? What will happen to Roxas?”

“I’m sure you’ve already guessed, if you’ve figured out this much. If nothing changes, I’m afraid that Roxas will stop existing at all.”

Xion bit her lip so hard it turned white.

“So that’s what you’ve been working on lately?” she asked him. “A way to help Roxas?”

He gave her a long look that she couldn’t quite read.

“In...a sense. Yes. That’s my main concern at the moment.”

She waited for the further explanation that had, in the past, always come, but today Vexen said nothing. He simply reapplied himself to his notes with a strange expression, at once grim and distant, his jaw clenching as he wrote. Still Xion waited: for answers, for context, for even an offhand remark that might help her interpret the situation. There was nothing. He just kept writing, heedless of her but artificially so, and Xion was not sure whether he intended his ignoring her to be so obvious. She shifted in her seat.

“I don’t want to hurt Roxas,” Xion said hesitantly. Vexen paused his writing. “Seeing him so weak, and knowing it’s my fault…”

“Quite wrong.” He reached out with his pen and tapped it against the back of her hand, closed into a fist on the tabletop. “None of this is your fault, Xion. The problem lies with Sora and his wayward memories. You’ve done nothing to bring this situation about.”

“I still feel awful.” She held her arms, as if cold. “Roxas disappearing...I can’t even imagine it. I wish it were me instead.”

Vexen looked up at her warily.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it. If there was anything I could do to help him be okay again, even if it hurt me…”

Vexen managed a smile that was strained and strange. He looked as if he wanted to do something—reach out and touch her, perhaps—but forced himself not to.

“Don’t say things like that, girl. Solving this isn’t your responsibility. You only need to think of doing your missions and collecting as many hearts as you can.”

“I do. I’ve been working extra hard, since Roxas can’t…” She trailed off, looking upset, but forced it down. “Aren’t we almost done? Kingdom Hearts is almost finished, isn’t it?”

“So I’m told.”

“Once it’s finally complete,” she said, “and you and Roxas and everyone else all have hearts…” She sighed, as if forcing herself to change the subject for her own sake. “What are we going to do then? Are we still going to be the Organization, or will we split up? No one has said anything about it yet. I thought maybe by now, they’d tell us something...”

The question made Vexen stop what he was doing, setting down his pen.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted. “It’s been so long since we’ve begun all of this that I hesitate to believe we’ll finally…” He lapsed into silence, his train of thought readable only in the dart of his eyes. He pulled himself out of it, shaking his head. “Well. I’m sure the Superior already has his vision for what we’ll accomplish next.”

“Roxas and I been talking about it a lot lately,” Xion said. “Once we complete Kingdom Hearts, then we probably won’t even be the Organization anymore. Or at least, we won’t have to work on gathering hearts all the time. We’re thinking about what we want to do then.”

“Are you?” Vexen couldn’t help but smile. “And what lofty ambitions have you two conjured for yourselves? Still interested in moving to Traverse Town?”

“I don’t know. But Roxas keeps saying that wherever we end up, he wants to try and go to school, like real kids do.”

“He does, does he?” Vexen sounded amused. “Quaint. Certainly it would do the boy some good. And you’d join him, I suppose?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you about.” She looked up at him. “What are you going to do once we finish Kingdom Hearts?”

“What does it matter?”

“Because I don’t want the three of us to get separated. I want to stay with Roxas, but I want to be with you too. So I want to know what you’ll be doing, in case I have to decide...” She shook her head. “I don’t want to decide, though. If I had to choose between you and Roxas, I…I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I’m surprised it’s such a conundrum. Roxas is your best friend, after all.”

“But I like you too,” Xion insisted. “You made me, and you’ve taught me a lot. I like learning from you, and I want to keep learning from you, even after the Organization. If that’s okay, that is.” She paused. “I know there’s probably lots of other things you want to do once you have a heart again. But if you have time...I still want to talk to you. Even if it can’t be every day.”

Vexen put a hand atop her head, startling her into silence, then bent so that he was much nearer (though still not quite at) her eye level. He was smiling oddly, his expression muted.

“Enough daydreaming, Xion. An existence beyond the Organization isn’t worth contemplating.”

“Why not?” She reached up and took his hand off of her head, but didn’t let it go. “Roxas and I have been working really hard to collect hearts ever since we were born. Xemnas says Kingdom Hearts will be ready someday soon, and when it is—and when Roxas is better—we won’t all have to work so hard anymore. We can finally just exist.”

“Is that really what you think?”

Xion nodded. Vexen laughed tiredly, but her response was to look stubborn and tug on his hand.

“You won’t leave us, will you? Me and Roxas. After we have Kingdom Hearts.”

“That depends on how obnoxious you two decide to be.”

Xion made a face, making Vexen laugh again. He extracted his hand from her grasp and straightened up.

“So what do you want to do next?” she asked him, as he turned to gather up a sheaf of papers he’d left on the desk. “After Kingdom Hearts?”

“Use your common sense. What do you think?”

“Well, probably…you’ll want to keep doing research. Right?”

“Very good.” He sifted through the folder, pulling out one sheet. “As the product of my research, you should never have had any doubt.”

“But you already work so hard…” A thought occurred to her, and she added, “Then why don’t you come on one of my missions? Saïx has started putting Roxas and me together a lot more, so...it would be kind of like another vacation. You deserve a break, since you’ve been working so hard.”

“I can’t do that, Xion.”

“Because you’re busy? Or because—”

“Xion. Listen to me.” He gazed intently into her face, his eyes as vividly green as acid or poison. “It’s no use thinking of what may come later. Just focus on your daily performance and leave it at that, is that clear?”

Her wounded expression made him stifle a clipped sigh.

“Don’t take it personally, girl. This business with Sora is all I’m concerned with at the moment.”

“I’m worried about it too.” Xion nodded. “But if you’re trying to fix it...Well, you’ve always been able to help me, haven’t you? And you know more about this than anyone. You’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t think you quite understand how difficult this problem is.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

He laughed a little, but wearily, and placed a hand on the top of her head again.

“Can I come see you again tomorrow?” she asked, brightening at this apparent victory. But Vexen’s smile disappeared at once.

“No, you may not. You and Roxas should only come to me if there’s any sudden developments related to Roxas’s deterioration.”

“Oh. Okay.” She fidgeted, and he let go of her. “You finally got sick of ice cream, huh?”

The feeble joke pulled another tired laugh out of him.

“Enough of all this, Xion. I’ve told you all I can. Now go on up to bed.”

“I’d stay with you.”

“Pardon?”

“If I had to make a choice about what to do after we have Kingdom Hearts. I’d stay with you. Even if you stayed right here.”

She reached out and caught his long sleeve, tugging on it, forcing him to look directly at her. Up close she could see how much more strained he looked than usual, dark circles faint but visible under his large eyes. She squeezed the loose fabric of his sleeve.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You made me, and you know so much, and...” She hesitated. “Well, I wouldn't want to leave you all by yourself.”

“I've been alone for a long time, Xion. It’s hardly a fatal condition.”

“But I’d miss you.”

She let his sleeve go, glaring up at him with sudden stubbornness, as if daring him to challenge the truth of this. He didn’t.

“You’ll tell us when we can start visiting again?” she asked. “When you’ve figured out how to help Roxas and everything?”

Whatever reassurance she expected did not come—no of course, no annoyed and arrogant insistence that it was only a matter of time. Vexen only sighed and tilted her chin up with the tip of his pen, searching her determined face, as if hoping to see less resolve there than she showed.

“Xion, I’m asking this of you for your own good. It would be...unwise, for you and Roxas to be seen in my company for now. And I need time to...arrive at the optimal solution. Do you understand?”

When it became clear that this was all the explanation he was going to give, Xion accepted defeat at last and slid off of the stool, looking downcast. Vexen offered nothing in the way of comfort except a cursory pat on the head, and Xion studied him intently, trying to wring information out of the dark circles under his eyes, and the way he wouldn’t quite look at her as she stood there, as if something about her pained him.

“Is Saïx bothering you about all of this?” she asked him. “He’s been even ruder to me and Roxas lately. Like he knows what’s going on.”

“He does. And you’re right that the chain of command is...displeased with the situation.”

“Well, you remember what to do, right?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There’s only one thing to do.” She prodded him gently. “Hold your chin up and keep working.”

His laughter had a strange, bitter note.

Research Entry 619

The Superior’s orders were clear, and I understand his reasoning. Nor are there any technical obstacles to repurposing her, as her basic template is intact. The No. i experiment can only be called a success, and theory suggests a number of other applications for a Replica of Xion’s caliber.

But I cannot do it. Not to her.

The alternative is to allow Roxas to perish. Yet how can I, when he has become what the rest of us have only dreamed of? His heart defies all theory, but it is no less real for that. If any of us could be said to be deserving of existence, it is he—yet if nothing is done, Xion and Sora will destroy him.

No matter how long I think on it, I see no solution.

In some ways Roxas was reminded of the fog of his earliest days in the Organization. That had been a mental funk instead of a physical one, but the distinction was beginning to blur; he trudged through the castle in a daze, so weak that he could no longer tackle some of the castle’s most daunting flights of stairs. He continued running missions daily, but stopped picking up extra work from Saïx when it was available, and more often than not it was almost nightfall by the time he dragged himself to Twilight Town’s clock tower—if indeed he made it there at all, exhausted as he always was at the end of even a day of nothing but recon.

“You don’t have to always wait up here for me, Xion,” he told Xion one evening, upon finding her sitting there under a peppering of stars. “My missions take a lot longer these days…”

“You know me better than that.” She stood, brushing off her coat, and added, “Come on, let’s go buy ice cream before it closes.”

“You haven’t had any already?”

“What’s the point if you’re not here?”

Xion’s solidarity was the one bright spot in his otherwise increasingly difficult routine. Vexen remained distant from them both, and the change was so striking that even Roxas had to admit, after a few more days, that Xion had been right about how strange he’d started acting. The reason became apparent one evening on the clock tower, when Xion announced she had a confession.

“It’s me, Roxas,” she told him. “I’ve been trying to think of how to tell you, but...I guess there’s no good way to say it. The reason you’re so weak now...It’s all because of me.”

She explained. Roxas, however, did not look alarmed; on the contrary, his expression darkened only at the mention of Sora, and when Xion finished he waved away her apologies with his half-eaten ice cream.

“I don’t blame you, Xion,” he insisted. “It’s Sora’s fault, not yours. You’re not doing it on purpose.”

“Neither is he.”

“Yeah, well…” Roxas struggled, then snorted hard and bit into his ice cream, frustrated. “It’s his fault anyway.”

He knew Xion was right, but couldn’t bring himself to admit it. The idea that his deterioration was happening arbitrarily, with no ill intent from its source, made him feel like a powerless victim of chance. But blaming Sora directly gave him an enemy onto whom to pin all of his resentment and fear, and whom he could fantasize about defeating to make everything go back to normal. The metaphysical menace of Sora, and the continued physical menace of Riku, became dummies in his mind onto which he painted targets anytime his new weakness overcame him.

“We have to find him,” he told Xion one evening. “That’s the real answer. Nothing else is gonna help.”

“But how?” Xion watched him with concern, ignoring her ice cream. “Roxas...you aren’t really thinking of hunting for Sora, are you? You’re not in good shape. You shouldn’t push yourself…”

“I don’t care,” he said fiercely. He was so weary today that he had to fight to string his words together. “I’m not just gonna sit here and wait for Sora to mess me up so bad that I can’t get out of bed one day. We’ve gotta find him, Xion. It’s the only way.”

Xion did not look convinced, but Roxas bit into his ice cream with a determination that permitted no argument, and she changed the subject as a tram came puttering into the station below them, eliciting a deafening clang from the huge bells hanging at the top of the tower above their heads.

It wasn’t a plan, exactly, in that Roxas had no idea whether it would work, or what he would do if he really did find Sora. But gathering data was the only strategy he had, and so despite Xion’s wariness, he started bringing a notebook with him along on missions, talking to any locals he met that he knew for sure had encountered Sora in the past. For once, his reams of unwanted visions served a purpose, pointing him in the right direction.

“Sora,” he said again to the blue genie hovering above the desert sand. “He’s a kid my age who wears red. Has a sword like this.”

He summoned his Keyblade, holding it up for the genie’s inspection; the very act of gripping it made his hand shake, and he had to plant it in the sand after only a few moments. Genie rubbed his chin.

“Sora,” he mused. “Y’know, I can’t figure it! I don’t think I know any Sora, but somehow, that name rings a bell.” He tapped the side of his head. “And here my memory’s always been sharp as a tack! Guess the millennia start to creep up on a guy. Sora, Sora…Hmm...”

“You don’t know where he is?”

“Don’t think so.” Genie shook his head. “But hey—I’ll keep an ear out for ya!”

“Well, thanks anyway.”

Roxas made a note and then stuffed the notebook into his coat pocket, turning away. The genie floated along behind him, curious.

“Sorry I couldn’t help,” he said, and sounded it. “Good luck finding your friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” said Roxas. “He’s taking something from me. I want it back.”

The rest of the worlds yielded similar dead ends. Phil didn’t remember Sora, and the Cheshire Cat only teased him with riddles. Roxas even asked Hayner, Pence, and Olette in Twilight Town, but they never seemed to have met Sora to begin with, or so Roxas assumed from the fact that he had never seen any memories of Sora being with them. But he couldn’t be completely sure, since even people who had met Sora had apparently forgotten him. It frustrated Roxas to no end.

More than anything else, he wanted to ask Vexen about it, for surely he would be able to explain why no one remembered that Sora existed. But Roxas knew better. Vexen would disapprove of his self-imposed quest and put a stop to his outings, so Roxas was left to conclude on his own that something about the loss of Sora’s memories was so powerful that it affected even the hearts connected to Sora’s.

Eventually, there was only one place left to check, and only one person left to ask. But it would be his riskiest excursion of all. He had to plan it carefully.

Finally, one day, Saïx assigned him a relatively simple mission of exterminating shadow globs in Wonderland, and Roxas skimped out on heart collecting to finish as quickly as possible, so that it only took him a few hours. Instead of RTCing, or even going to Twilight Town, he instead let himself rest on a bench in the hedge maze until he had some semblance of energy back, then set off through the darkness.

Seagulls’ cries greeted him as he stepped out of the portal onto the white sand. Across a narrow strait of water directly ahead, the main island looked at once close and distant, and Roxas shielded his eyes and scanned it with more interest than he ever had before, studying what he could see of the town’s hilly layout, and the design of the houses closest to the waterline.

Sora wasn’t here; of that he was almost certain. But someone else was. She was the one person besides Riku that Roxas supposed might still remember Sora’s existence, and though he had no clue how he would convince Kairi to tell him where Sora was, finding her would at least be the right place to start. Unfortunately, all of the memories he could recall clearly had taken place on this small island here, which the local kids seemed to use as a playground. He didn’t know the layout of the main island, or where Kairi lived, or where the school was. This afternoon would be the ultimate test of his reconnaissance skills.

He did not open another dark corridor right away. Instead Roxas allowed himself the small pleasure of enjoying the island itself, walking along the beach where only the tallest waves lapped, leaving prints in the damp sand as tiny crabs scuttled out of his way in a panic. His vacation here with Xion and Vexen felt like it had happened years ago, or like something he’d only had a dream about. Or maybe he was just getting his own memory mixed up with Sora’s.

Did it really take so little, he wondered, to throw everything—his whole life—out of control? It didn’t seem right. Roxas stopped walking, watching a crab scuttle away from his boot. It wasn’t...it wasn’t fair, that he could feel more or less in command of his life one day, and then be faced with the prospect of annihilation the next, through no fault of his own, and with practically nothing he could do to affect the outcome one way or the other.

Was this a hint what a full existence was like, for complete beings who had hearts? Was happiness always balanced on the edge of a knife like that?

Ten minutes of walking exhausted him. Roxas had to stop and pull himself together by sitting on a downed palm tree, as winded by his stroll as if he’d been sprinting. He sat bent forward with his head between his knees, trying to will energy back into his body. He’d only just gotten here. He needed to keep going. But he was so tired…

He passed a hand across his face, feeling the beginnings of a dull headache forming behind his temples. Memories. Stupid Sora and his stupid memories and his stupid blindfolded friend…

The whole situation left a bad taste in his mouth, worse than his confusion before he’d known about Sora, worse even than the anxiety of when Xion had been asleep. At least then there’d been a solution forthcoming, but as far as Roxas knew, Vexen still hadn’t discovered anything about how to help him. In fact he’d barely seen Vexen since that last visit to the lab, almost a month ago. It had been fine at first, but Roxas realized now that there was a void in his life without those lectures, however much he might roll his eyes during them. As arrogant and condescending as Vexen could be, at least he cared about what was going on with him. No one else in the Organization seemed to.

Maybe he’d go see him today, if he really did find Kairi. Even if Roxas didn’t get any information out of her, he could at least try pressuring Vexen into telling him what he knew. He didn’t care about whatever secret project Vexen had been assigned. He just wanted advice.

Roxas tiredly watched the seagulls dart back and forth across the surface of the water, skimming it, one sometimes coming up with a small fish that they all then fought over in a great squawking cloud. He heard no footsteps, saw no shadow cast over the sand before him; the voice hit him like an electric shock.

“What are you doing here?”

Roxas started, scrambling to his feet. Riku’s boots kicked up sand as he approached.

“You again!” Roxas summoned his Keyblade. “It’s none of your business, all right?”

The Keyblade weighed a hundred pounds. Roxas’s grip on it shook, and despite the blindfold he could tell Riku’s eyes had drifted down to the handle of the blade, reading all the little tells that betrayed how weak Roxas had become. Riku’s own strange sword appeared in his grasp in a burst of darkness, but he kept it hanging at his side.

“You don’t belong here,” Riku told him.

“Shut up. I’ll go where I want.”

Could he fight like this? Riku was strong—strong enough to pose a threat even if Roxas had been at full strength. Roxas grit his teeth and raised the Keyblade, readying himself, trying to keep from shaking.

“Leave me alone,” he said again. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I came here to talk to Kairi.”

Riku made a pass at him. Not at full force, not viciously—only an exploratory jab that he evidently expected Roxas to block. But Roxas’s reflexes were nothing like they’d once been, and the blow nearly sent him to the ground; he only spared himself by buckling to his knees and using the Keyblade like a crutch to keep from falling forward onto the warm sand.

Already Roxas ached like he’d run a mile, and knew instantly he had no chance of defending himself if Riku attacked—much less of driving him off. All he needed was a distraction, just a few precious seconds to summon the darkness to take him away, and close the portal before Riku could follow. If he could only buy some time…

You’ll never develop any tactical skills if your only strategy is simply whacking away with your Keyblade. The oft-repeated admonishment echoed through his head as Riku approached. Think, boy. Strength is essential, but even the strongest opponent can be outwitted. A sharp mind is your most formidable weapon.

“What do you want with me, anyway?” Roxas asked, struggling back to his feet. “What’s going on with Sora?”

He’d thrown it out there as a general barb, hoping to sting, and was rewarded by Riku’s hesitation.

“Look...This isn’t anything personal.” Riku stepped closer. The blue cat’s-eye in the pommel of his sword glinted in the bright sunlight, and Roxas thought he saw its slitted pupil dilate slightly, as if it were alive. “But you’ve got something Sora needs. Something he can’t live without. So I have to take it back.”

Riku swung his sword again. Roxas blocked, but barely, and the force of the blow sent him toppling backwards into the sand, gasping. Even Riku seemed taken aback, as he did not follow up the blow, instead standing over Roxas and watching him struggle like a beached fish. Roxas forced himself to his feet as quickly as he could, his face burning.

“Take me to him,” Roxas demanded.

“What?”

“Take me to Sora.” Roxas brushed sand off of his coat with shaking hands. “All of his memories are leaking out, right? He’s gotta be in bad shape.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Because I don’t want his stupid memories, all right? If you want them back, go ahead and take them.”

Riku hesitated again. Roxas managed to keep his feet, feeling sweat stick his coat to the skin of his back, more sweat running down the side of his face. The panorama of sea and sky behind Riku seemed to mock him with its beauty.

“Sorry,” said Riku at last. “But that’s not how it works. You and Sora can’t exist at the same time. Same goes for your Replica friend.”

“How do you know? You’re not a scientist.”

The odd accusation seemed to surprise Riku, for he hesitated, silent. Roxas kept talking, hardly listening to himself, not caring what he was saying as long as it kept Riku from attacking him.

“Who told you we can’t exist together? You don’t know how all this stuff works. Maybe there’s another way.”

“There’s not. I’ve asked.”

“Asked who? Who are you working with?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The tip of Riku’s bat-winged blade was suddenly aimed at Roxas’s face. “You can come quietly or not. Your choice. But for Sora to be whole again, you’ve got to stop existing. Both of you.”

“Leave Xion out of this!”

“Is that her name?”

“Why do you care what her name is? You just want to get rid of her, right?”

“This isn’t about what I want.” To Roxas’s surprise, Riku sounded pained. There was none of Roxas’s own ferocity in his voice. “But Sora is my best friend, and I made a promise. I have to do whatever it takes to make him whole.”

They stared each other down, the wind and waves and seagulls paying them no heed. Roxas tried to edge away, but Riku made a small, shifting movement that telegraphed a blow, and Roxas froze again, hating how he could hardly keep the Keyblade still in his own trembling hand. It fizzled gently with sparks of light, like a lamp with a fuse blown, wanting to vanish, and finally it disappeared when a rush of dizziness overtook Roxas. He crumpled to his knees in the sand, gasping.

“Isn’t there another way?” Roxas demanded of Riku, looking up. “Me and Xion just want to exist. Is that so wrong?”

“No. It’s not.”

Riku bent and extended his free hand, offering to help Roxas to his feet. Roxas scrambled backwards, out of reach of a sword strike.

“Like I’m gonna fall for that.” Roxas used a young palm tree to pull himself up, his coat shedding sand. Only with great difficulty did he force the Keyblade back into existence. “Who cares about Sora besides you, anyway? No one remembers him anymore, so no one would even miss him. He should leave me and Xion alone and just—just disappear!”

Riku struck.

Roxas ducked, but only just in time. The edge of Riku’s sword grazed his arm, somehow breaking the skin without damaging his coat. Darkness seethed over the wound, burning like hellfire, and Roxas actually dropped the Keyblade in shock and pain, yelping. Another blow knocked him into the tree he’d used to pull himself up, and he hit the sand facedown in a daze, the Keyblade abandoning him again, sensing how hopelessly exhausted he was.

“Sorry,” came Riku’s voice from above him. “But I can’t let Sora fade away. The Replica has his memories, and you have everything else. You’re coming with me.”

The feel of someone gripping the back of his coat made Roxas spring to life. Apparently Riku had already thought him unconscious, for Roxas was able to tear himself away from Riku’s grasp with a sudden burst of energy, and a Firaga spell tossed blindly behind him knocked Riku backwards.

Roxas summoned every ounce of concentration, and beneath his hands and knees the soft sand melted, darkness licking his limbs, pulling him downwards like quicksand. He twisted around and fired a Blizzard that caught Riku square in the chest, staggering him. The last thing Roxas saw before the darkness closed was the sharp edge of Riku’s blade, missing the tip of his nose by inches.

He collapsed straight onto the floor of the lab, startling Vexen so badly that he dropped a piece of glassware.

Chapter Text

It took four days before he recovered fully, and ‘recovered’ was a relative term; even after he’d healed, Roxas was still just as weak as he’d been before the encounter. More disarming than the injuries themselves was Vexen’s outrage when he’d heard the whole story.

“You stubborn oaf!” he hissed, swatting away Roxas’s hand when he tried to help tighten a bandage. “You could have been killed!”

“Yeah, I figured that one out.” Roxas stifled a yelp of pain. “Not so tight, ow.”

“It’s either this regimen or have a scar permanently. Darkness can’t just be Cured away.”

“I figured that one out too…”

Vexen stopped what he was doing to glare at Roxas, since he was already bent down at his eye level.

“Don’t be flippant with me, Roxas. You’re fortunate to be here.” He finished setting the bandage, making Roxas bite back another cry of pain. “There. Keep changing it every day, and with any luck there won’t be much of a scar.”

Roxas grimaced and poked the bandage, regretting it immediately, as the pain shot all the way down to his wrist and up to his elbow, far disproportionate to the size of the shallow cut that had started it.

“I don’t know what was going through your head,” Vexen grumbled, as Roxas fiddled with the bandage. “Going out and looking for Sora, of all things…”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Roxas argued. He flinched when Vexen knocked his hand away from the bandage. “Sora’s the problem, right? If we could just find him—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous!” Roxas snapped. “I hate that this is happening to me. I want to do something about it, and all you ever do is tell me to run away. How is that a solution?”

“You’re as hard-headed as your other half.”

“He’s not my other half. Sora’s a freak. He shouldn’t exist.” Roxas couldn’t help but give the itchy bandage a tug, grimacing. “And...look, don’t tell Xion about this, alright? She’s already really worried about me. I don’t want her to freak out.”

They exchanged looks. Vexen scowled, but did not refute the request, and Roxas fiddled with the bandage with gritted teeth until he’d adjusted it into a slightly less uncomfortable position, rolling his coat sleeve back down to hide it from view.

“You’re not wrong about the situation,” Vexen admitted. “Sora is the cause of all this, and finding him the solution. But that doesn’t mean you should have taken the liberty yourself in the condition that you’re in. The lessers are on the hunt for him already. Leave it to them.”

“They’re not good enough.”

“I agree. But here’s the hard truth, boy: the Organization has no reason to make finding Sora a priority as long as you and Xion are able to contribute to Kingdom Hearts.”

Roxas rubbed his arm, wondering how long that ability would last for him.

He was so weak now that even making it from his room to the Grey Area in the morning required concentration, and missions were no longer defined by Saïx’s objective but by the series of little challenges he set himself to make them bearable: walking another twenty minutes, finding another dozen Heartless, defeating them without sustaining enough damage to force him to RTC. He put on a brave face for Xion, and knew she in turn was doing everything she could on her own missions to pick up his slack collecting hearts, even though he tried to tell her not to.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said earnestly, over ice cream. “Roxas—I’m working as much as I can so that Saïx doesn’t have any reason to send you on hard missions.”

“You don’t have to do that for me, Xion.”

“Yes, I do. It’s the least I can do. I’m the one stealing your power in the first place.”

“C’mon, don’t put it like that.” He forced himself to take another bite, even though he wasn’t hungry. “I’m being careful on my missions, I swear. Besides, this’ll all blow over once Vexen gets things figured out. You said he’s working on it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I just have to tough it out until then.”

But that was easier said than done, when he woke each day feeling as though his body were made of lead.

Xion, for her part, kept a close eye on him, or as close as she could when they spent most of the day apart on missions. She knew he resented it, or at least didn’t want her to be as worried as she was, but she didn’t care. She felt doubly compelled to worry since it was (in her view) her fault, and also since no one else seemed bothered at all by Roxas’s obviously worsening condition.

“It’s not his fault!” Xion said staunchly, following Xaldin along one of the gloomy corridors of the Beast’s castle. He’d complimented her annihilation of a group of Heartless, and lightly insulted Roxas’s recent performance with the same breath.

“Feh.” Xaldin shook his head, his long hair swaying. “Don’t make his excuses. We’ve no room for anyone who can’t pull their weight, whatever his reasons.”

“He’s going to get better,” Xion insisted. “He’s just...not feeling well right now, that’s all.”

“He’d best improve, for his own sake. It’s not easy work we do. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets himself killed one of these days.”

Xion followed Xaldin as closely as she could, creeping along behind him in the shadows between moldy tapestries.

“You really wouldn’t care?” she asked his back. “If Roxas was destroyed...It wouldn’t bother you?”

“How could it? We’ve no hearts to feel concern with.”

“That doesn’t matter!” said Xion hotly—and immediately regretted it, as Xaldin stopped to glare at her.

“What are you blithering about?”

“Even if all of you don’t have hearts, you could still pretend to care,” said Xion, taking the bait. She glared back up at him, almost comical in her determination compared with her much taller and more ferocious-looking comrade. “If you really don’t feel anything at all, and you have to always pretend...why not pretend to be nice?”

Xaldin laughed. If it was feigned amusement, it was feigned well, though the sound had an unpleasant note to it as it bounced off the walls of the silent, dismal castle.

“‘Nice’? I’m afraid you’re in the wrong Organization for that.”

“You don’t think there are any good people in the Organization?”

“Hmph.” Xaldin snorted. “If ever we had one, he vanished in Oblivion. The rest of us have no use for such petty notions.”

He snorted again and started forward, forcing Xion to follow at a brisker pace, but her expression remained defiant as she followed the trail he left in the dusty, moth-eaten carpet.

“I think Roxas is a good person,” Xion said stubbornly, as they passed a stained-glass window with a hole smashed through it. “And so is Vexen.”

Xaldin laughed again, much harder.

“I am under no obligation to submit any of my findings to you!” Vexen snarled at Saïx, his hand splayed across the papers on the lab table. “And in any case, I’ve already made the best solution abundantly clear. Neither Roxas nor Xion must be allowed to come to harm. That is imperative.”

“Yes, you’ve been very insistent on that point,” Saïx said dryly. “But failing that possibility, you were told to analyze which of them would best serve our purposes going forward. The Superior is still awaiting your analysis on the subject. He considers it...overdue.”

Vexen’s nostrils flared. He paced the length of the workbench, the force of his passing stirring the edges of nearby papers like a breeze. Saïx made a note on his clipboard, which caused Vexen to glare over at him, but Saïx either did not notice this or did not care. He finished his note and looked up, his passive expression contrasting with the contortions flashing across Vexen’s gaunt face at every other thought.

“Roxas can barely do his assignments anymore,” Saïx said, after another glance at the notes on his clipboard. “If he keeps on at this rate, we’ll fall so short of quota that the whole schedule will need to be pushed back. Xion alone can’t compensate for his failures.”

“Roxas is unfortunately under the influence of Xion’s—”

“Lord Xemnas is well aware of the problem. What he wants from you is a solution.” Saïx tucked the clipboard into his elbow. “You built that thing to copy Roxas’s powers, didn’t you? But first it kept breaking, and now it’s killing him. Frankly I can’t fathom why you would want to keep it. As far as I’m concerned, the most logical course of action is to scrap it and let Roxas finish the job he was brought on board for.”

“Your opinion is of no consequence!”

“Perhaps not to you.” Saïx’s tone stayed level. “But if you want the Superior to consider your opinion, you’ll have to actually give it. Why haven’t you submitted the report he requested? Why has the situation between Roxas and Xion been allowed to drag on this long? If they’re really equally capable, then flip a coin.”

“You cannot ask this of me!”

“I’m not the one asking.” Saïx made another note on his clipboard. “Xemnas is exasperated by all of these delays. We have to set things right. We must determine whether Roxas’s Keyblade or Xion’s will be the one to carry the Organization forward, before the whole mess gets out of control.” He checked his notes, then added, “More out of control than it is already, I should say.”

Vexen’s fists clenched at his sides as he paced, grinding his teeth. If Saïx found his exaggerated behavior amusing, he showed no sign of it, and thumbed idly through the papers tacked to his clipboard as Vexen hissed and muttered under his breath.

“I have had enough of this,” Vexen told him, making him look up. “This situation is extremely delicate, and I won’t have an ignorant fool like you poking your nose into it.”

“I am merely the messenger.”

“Silence!” Vexen slammed a fist onto the table beside him, rattling empty beakers. “The scientific research relevant to this problem is far beyond your feeble comprehension!”

“I’m sure,” said Saïx flatly. “But I have to wonder: how much research will you be able to perform as a Dusk?”

Vexen stopped pacing. The color slowly leeched from his already pale face, making him look sickly.

“How dare you,” he managed, his voice strangled with fury. “You are in no position to issue threats, Number Seven. The Superior considers my work of the utmost importance.”

“Are you sure?”

Saïx tucked his pen back into his clipboard and thumbed through the bottom of the pages on it, not even bothering to look at Vexen, his voice steady.

“Your continued stalling on the next phase of the Program has become cause for concern,” he said, with disinterest that was not intended to fool its audience. “This Organization has never had room for any obstacles to its objectives, and we’re too close to achieving them now to grow lax. If, as Lord Xemnas suspects, you’re delaying the issue on purpose...”

“Don’t presume to tell me what he thinks!” Vexen snarled. “You may pride yourself on having his ear, but I am perfectly capable of discussing the situation with the Superior himself.”

“And yet you’ve avoided that very thing of late. Why do you think I’m here? It’s not because discussing this with you was my personal choice for evening entertainment.”

Vexen grabbed the front of Saïx’s coat, sneering into his scarred face, his own still pale and taut.

“Listen to me, you pompous little brat! I have devoted years to furthering the objectives that Lord Xemnas has laid out, and I will not stand here and be so casually insulted by the likes of you who understand nothing of what I’ve accomplished in the last—”

Saïx caught his hand and pulled it away from his coat. The slow, careful gesture was not gentle, and Vexen hissed and wrenched his hand out of Saïx’s iron grip.

“You care nothing for the goals of this Organization.” Saïx’s yellow eyes burned. “Make no mistake: Xemnas has never been fool enough to think your priorities are the same as the rest of ours. He’s allowed you to pursue your hobbies only because your work has value to us. But if that is no longer the case...”

Vexen grit his teeth, nursing his hand.

“I’ll put this clearly,” Saïx continued. “Which would you rather suffer the loss of? One of your precious research specimens? Or the privilege of doing research in the first place?”

“They are not my specimens. Not—exclusively. Roxas and Xion are...”

“Are what, exactly?”

Vexen seethed, still pale, but his only answer was to swallow hard. Saïx picked up his clipboard from where he’d set it on the edge of the table.

“Whatever delusions you harbor about them are of no consequence to the rest of us. Whether it be Roxas or the contraption you built, this Organization needs a Keyblade. It is your responsibility to determine which. And if you keep on refusing to do your job, all your piles of papers won’t spare you the inevitable.”

Saïx smoothed down the notes on his clipboard, tucking it under his arm.

“You may not care one way or the other about regaining a heart,” he said coolly. “But like it or not, that is the goal this Organization strives for. And anyone who sabotages that goal has no place among our number...whatever their rank or history.”

“You insolent bastard!”

“Call me anything you like.” Saïx’s eyes narrowed. “But the orders aren’t coming from me. And if you don’t hurry up and do as you’re told, the consequences won’t be coming from me, either.”

Day 331: No Energy Left

I feel so tired—almost disconnected from my body. My dreams about Sora have gotten stranger. Xion’s have too, but she’s in a lot better shape than me. These days I wake up feeling like I haven’t slept at all.

I hope Vexen figures something out soon. I don’t know how many more missions I can do before some Heartless gets me, or Riku finds me again. We’re so close to finishing Kingdom Hearts, and now all this…It’s like it all fell apart.

I just wish everything would go back to normal soon.

There was no sign of the target in the town square. Then again, Roxas thought, Halloween Town was always a difficult place to hunt for Heartless, since the menacing creatures fit in perfectly well amongst the equally ghoulish residents. He combed the square as thoroughly as he could while avoiding being seen, but nothing seemed amiss, and his search took him into one of the adjacent graveyards. He ducked behind a tombstone to stay out of sight of a passing local, scanning the fog-wreathed graveyard, listening. Nothing.

Saïx hadn’t specified what kind of Heartless he was here to take out. That always meant a powerful one, usually one so strong that it had become a unique species. He’d fought several such before, and won, yet this time…

Even now, before lifting a finger, he felt exhausted.

He waited, hoping to hear something that might guide him to wherever his target was, but the occasional scream in the distance was no sign of trouble around here. Roxas stayed alert, but it grew more difficult as the minutes crawled by without anything seeming amiss. A large spider tickled his hand through his glove as it tapped its way across the face of the tombstone he had hid himself behind.

Still no Heartless. Where was this thing lurking, anyway? Powerful Heartless were usually huge, and never the sneaky, silent type…But then again, it could be something like the Leechgrave…Maybe he would have to check the outskirts of town, too?

Behind him, something rustled loudly. Bat wings…except no bat could be that big…

Roxas threw himself out of the way as the Heartless’s serrated blade clove the headstone in two, sending up a cloud of dust. Yellow eyes glowed at him through the haze, and he rolled again, dodging another strike, but only just.

An Invisible—no, an Orcus. Bigger and tougher, and worst of all, faster. How did it get so close without him noticing?

It attacked again, but he parried with the Keyblade, his heels digging into the soft graveyard earth. The shriek of metal grinding together pierced his head as the Orcus leaned in, pressing him, trying to force him to his knees. Just before his strength gave out, Roxas cast lightning and used the flash as cover to duck behind the Orcus, bringing the Keyblade down across the whole length of its back. It staggered, but immediately floated out of reach, sending back a fireball that singed Roxas’s front even though he blocked it.

The deadly dance took him and his target up and down the graveyard, between and around crumbling headstones. Whether this Heartless was tougher than most, or whether Roxas was simply that much weaker now, he didn’t know, but every attack that he couldn’t parry stunned him so badly that he reeled. In contrast, his own hits with the Keyblade didn’t appear to do much more than outrage the creature. It slowed only right after he’d struck it, and even then, only for a fraction of a second, always recovering and bringing its sword against his in a flurry of strong, furious blows. One slash caught Roxas across the side, shallow but powerful, knocking him into a wrought-iron fence that hurt even worse than the original blow.

What little strength he had left him quickly, and soon Roxas found himself too weak to do much more than dodge and parry, the Orcus pushing him around the small graveyard like a boxing ring, keeping him trapped. It was all he could do to gasp for air in between attacks, putting distance between himself and the monster, his wounds throbbing. Too powerful, and unfazed by everything he’d done to it. He had to finish it soon, before it wore him down any further. One deep stab would be enough to end him for good.

He concentrated, standing his ground as it barreled towards him, raising his Keyblade for an all-or-nothing strike. Its sword flashed in the moonlight as it charged, but he grit his teeth and dug in, keeping his focus on its vulnerable head. If he could hit it right between the eyes and roll under its sword swipe, then maybe, just maybe—

Ice exploded between him and the Orcus, knocking it flat to the ground. A stray spear of ice caught Roxas across the shoulder, sending him tumbling, his Keyblade hitting his ribs as he rolled over it. The mass of ice was so huge that the air temperature plummeted in its presence, and as Roxas gasped up at the starry sky he could suddenly see his own breath. He struggled and rolled over onto his stomach, the Keyblade vanishing beside him.

“Both of you! Stop this at once!”

Roxas looked around wildly. The voice came again, agitated and familiar.

“Roxas! Xion! Stop it!”

Vexen appeared out of the darkness at the far end of the graveyard, hurrying forward, stumbling over the uneven ground. The ice cracked and melted away as Roxas got to his knees, the dirt all around suddenly soggy as he scanned every direction for the Orcus. It had disappeared. In its place was Xion, and she held the side of her head as she stumbled towards him.

“Roxas? Wh…what are you doing here?” She caught a cracked tombstone with one hand to keep from falling as Roxas had done. “The Heartless I was fighting—it was you?”

Up close she looked battered, and Roxas realized that her injuries matched the blows he’d managed to land on the Heartless.

“You were—Xion, that was you?”

“I hurt you!” Her eyes widened. “Roxas, are you okay? Can you get up?”

She cast Curaga on him, dissolving the worst of the pain as Vexen hurried up to them, his long shadow blocking out the moonlight. He’d summoned his shield, but dismissed it as he reached them, sending up a shower of glittering snowflakes that vanished like dandelion puffs.

“Vexen! What’s going on?” asked Xion.

“This mission was a trap,” he said quickly. “You two were baited into attacking one another.”

“What?” Roxas struggled to stand. “But—Why?”

Instead of answering, Vexen bent and helped Roxas to his feet, keeping hold of him until he caught onto a nearby gravestone for support.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Vexen said. “Luckily the Superior insinuated the truth before it was too late.”

“Why were you talking to Xemnas?”

“Never you mind. Are either of you hurt badly?”

“I’ll be okay.” Xion winced and held her side. “Roxas—what about you?”

Roxas interrupted his own answer by crumpling to his knees. Xion helped him up this time, and he sprawled across a tilted tombstone, panting. She cast Curaga on him again as Vexen paced and looked this way and that, as if expecting to be interrupted or sprung upon by Heartless.

“Are you okay, Roxas?” Xion asked.

“Yeah.” He grit his teeth and tried to straighten up; it took every ounce of effort. “Just a little banged up…”

“I should think so.” Vexen bent and sized him up at eye level, peering at him with concern, as if he were an important specimen that was withering under a microscope. “Your strength is nearly spent. You’re lucky you didn’t perish. Now--I want both of you to leave, right now.”

“RTC?” Xion asked uncertainly.

“No. Not yet. Go elsewhere for now, and return to the castle later in the day.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“No questions. Both of you, go.”

“What about—”

“Do as I say, Xion.”

Roxas forced himself to stay on his feet, his fists clenching at his sides. They’d tricked him into trying to kill Xion...He looked up at Vexen, and to his surprise found him looking strained, despite the usual curt authority in his voice.

“Vexen, do you know why they did this?”

Vexen looked to him sharply, but something passed through his gaunt face that both Roxas and Xion caught at once, a flash of unease that looked out of place compared to his usual arrogance.

“I said go,” he said. “The both of you. There’s nothing more to be done here.”

“What’s going on?” Roxas demanded.

But for once Vexen refused to explain.

In Twilight Town they bought ice cream out of habit rather than desire, and neither of them ate much. Xion shielded her eyes with one hand to gaze at the cloudless sunset.

“I don’t understand. Why would the Organization want us to fight each other?”

Roxas said nothing. Xion shivered, and there was a long silence on the clock tower that the sun’s orange rays could not fill. The sunset did not warm them today.

“I had no idea it was you,” Xion continued, and shivered again. “I really would have killed you if Vexen hadn’t…”

Roxas had no response; he couldn’t bear to hear himself say the same aloud. The fact that every blow he’d landed on the Orcus had actually hit her instead made him feel sick. Worse still, he had no idea why it had happened. Every theory he came up with felt hollow, yet Vexen’s arrival proved it hadn’t been some kind of horrible mistake, either. He and Xion had been set on each other.

“Did we do something wrong?” Xion asked aloud. “Are we not working hard enough?”

“It can’t be that,” Roxas said at once. “We’ve always done our missions well, haven’t we? We’re the whole reason we have Kingdom Hearts.”

“But then why…”

She shivered again, despite the warmth of the sunset. Roxas reached out and found her hand, holding it loosely.

“Roxas…I’m scared.”

Roxas was too, but didn’t say it. Instead he squeezed her hand tighter, and she sighed and squeezed it back. They held hands loosely, entwining their fingers, watching the orange sun.

At least the view here hadn’t changed. The sunset cared nothing for their fright, and somehow that indifference was soothing.

“I think I know why they made us fight,” Xion said at last, hesitantly. “It’s because I’m hurting you.”

“Why would they care about that?”

“Because I was just supposed to copy your Keyblade. That’s the only reason they made me, isn’t it? But in the end, you’re more important to the Organization. You’re a real member.” She let go of his hand. “So if they have to choose between us, I…I  don’t think they’d pick me.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Roxas insisted. “Besides, I don’t care who they pick. They don’t get to decide.”

Roxas made as if to touch her hand again, but she withdrew it, holding her fist in her lap. They looked at each other, and not for the first time Roxas was struck by how, for all their other differences, looking into her eyes was like looking into a mirror. They were the same shade of blue as his own.

“It’ll be okay, Xion,” he told her, with a confidence he did not really feel. “Whatever’s going on, Vexen will make it right.”

“Superior, I beg you to reconsider!”

“It is already decided.”

“I need more time!”

“I have given you enough.”

Vexen cowered, as if Xemnas had shouted. Xemnas’s deep voice echoed between the other thrones in the Round Room, all of which were empty.

“Why did you interfere today?” he asked. “My test would have been the fastest way to discover which of them is worth keeping.”

“They’re both worth keeping, Lord Superior.”

“Xion is destroying Roxas, is she not?”

Vexen strained upward in his seat, his expression taut.

“I—yes, sir. For the time being, that seems to be the case. But I’m confident that if we could locate the Keyblade master, we could reverse the damage without undue—”

“Did we not embark upon this Program to ensure that our plans would not depend entirely upon Sora?” Xemnas rested his chin on a fist. “Roxas and Xion have performed well. Thanks to their diligence, Kingdom Hearts is almost complete. But I see no reason to idly wait for one of them to absorb the other.”

“That can’t be allowed to happen!” Vexen quivered in his seat with the force of his agitation; if he’d been standing, he would have paced. “Lord Xemnas—we must locate Sora. He is the solution to all of this. Once we have him in our grasp, I could disassemble his entire memory and spare both Xion and Roxas. Neither of them need perish if we can get to the root of the problem.”

“I do not doubt it. However…We have no assurance that we will find Sora before the damage is done. I thought a test of combat was the most straightforward solution…but in the end, perhaps the simplest answer is best.” He dropped his hand to grip his armrest again, looking down at Vexen. “Erase Xion’s data.”

“Sir?”

“We must end this imbalance.” Xemnas sounded neither pleased nor displeased. “Roxas cannot be put to another use, so he must continue to harvest the final hearts we need. Our Replica, however, is malleable. Since it cannot coexist with Roxas in its current form, we will give it another purpose. It must be recalibrated.”

Vexen did not speak.

“It has performed well,” Xemnas assured him. “I am satisfied with its achievements. But it is time to move on to the next phase of the Program. No. i is needed still; ‘Xion’ is not.”

He spoke evenly, but something tainted his last words, a finality that hung heavy in the Round Room’s empty silence. Vexen swallowed hard.

“You would like Xion…reset, then. All data removed.”

“Yes. How long will this take?”

“Lord Xemnas, I—I can’t do this.”

“How unfortunate. Then it must be destroyed...”

“No!” Vexen raised himself in his seat, no longer slouching, as if he’d been electrocuted. “Superior, I—Please, consider the consequences. If we lose her—”

“We would lose nothing we cannot gain again if need be. You said yourself there is no obstacle to creating more Replicas.”

“There isn’t,” Vexen said eagerly, seizing upon this. “Lord Superior—all I need is time. If you’ll allow me a few months to develop another set of prototypes, I could produce Replicas that would almost certainly exceed Xion’s copying ability. Why, I could even—”

“Do you think,” Xemnas asked coolly, “that Roxas would survive so long? Or that copying him again would not result in this same problem? You said as much yourself.”

Vexen had no answer, and trembled in his seat, as though the room were too cold even for him. Xemnas gazed down at him, so far above that his expression could hardly be read.

“This is my decision. You were asked your opinion, and failed to provide it. You left me with no choice but to decide for myself.”

Xemnas shifted, resting his elbow on the arm of his throne and his chin lightly on the knuckles of his loose fist.

“Be they a puppet or the hero’s Nobody,” he mused, his eyes half-lidded, “we merely need a functional Keyblade master. The details are unimportant. The puppet has developed to a point where the hero of the Keyblade may be entirely redundant, but in the end, it has other uses, while Roxas does not. And as long as at least one of them persists, it will prevent Sora from ever waking…an important advantage. Castle Oblivion taught us that he cannot be controlled. If given the opportunity, he would rise up against us.”

He roused himself and dropped his hand.

“So we must move our agenda ahead with that firmly in mind. With the rest of Sora’s power concentrated into Roxas, he will become our strongest asset. When you decommission Xion, ensure that the process does nothing to temper Roxas’s power. He must take as much away from Sora as he possibly can.”

“But, Lord Xemnas, I…” Vexen faltered. “I made her...”

“That is exactly why you must do it. No one else is capable of your...finesse.”

Vexen swallowed. He looked up, and the distance between the two thrones seemed for a moment magnified, a gulf of silence and shadow that Xemnas inhabited patiently, watching Vexen far below with only mild interest, as if watching a battered animal tremble behind a pane of glass. He did not stir or change expression when Vexen’s thin voice broke the silence.

“Is this...truly your will, sir? There is no other way?”

Xemnas’s golden eyes glittered. He let go of one armrest to gesture at Vexen far below.

“You have three days.”

Day 352: A Trap

The Organization tricked me and Roxas into fighting each other today. If Vexen hadn’t stopped us, I might have even killed Roxas. He’s so weak now, all because of me.

I know why they did it. I’m affecting Roxas so much that if nothing changes, he’ll fade away completely. I want to believe Vexen will find an answer, but still...I can’t stand to be the reason Roxas is hurting.

I have to think of a way to make it up to him somehow. It’s the least I can do.

There was no comfort in tonight’s sunset. They sat side-by-side on the edge of the clock tower without saying much, nibbling at their ice cream, their few attempts at conversation half-hearted. Xion twirled her empty ice cream stick in her hands, gazing between her boots at the stone pavement far below. Roxas watched her, and watched the sunset, but none of it eased his mind as it had always done before. The day’s mission was over, and yet a sense of foreboding gripped him, as though he were waiting for some blow to fall.

They’d each been assigned a mission this morning, as if nothing untoward had happened the day before, but Saïx’s expression as he’d doled out their orders had been enough to put them both on edge. Roxas did his best to finish his mission quickly, difficult as that was, but it was clear when he arrived on the clock tower that Xion had been waiting a long time already. Still, she welcomed him with a smile, even if it looked more tired and forced than any he’d ever seen from her before.

“Do you think they’ll make us fight again?” she wondered aloud, once they’d made good headway on their ice creams. “What do you think we should do?”

Roxas looked up. Xion was watching him intently, not so much expecting him to have answers as expecting him to reflect her own concern.

“I’m not sure there’s anything we can do,” Roxas admitted. “This is bigger than the two of us. I hate it. I hate everything about it.” He broke his ice cream stick in two, hating also the incredible effort this simple act took; he could barely manage it. “How did things get this way? It seems like yesterday we were all in Traverse Town together on vacation, and now it’s like…”

Xion sighed. The wind picked up, teasing their hair and cloaks with the threat of rain sometime later, a shower that would water flowerbeds and dampen rooftops tonight as the townspeople slept. A torn flyer danced and whirled across the empty plaza below, finally plastering itself to the side of the station entrance and fluttering helplessly, like an injured moth.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t exist,” said Xion aloud, watching it struggle. She tucked a strand of hair that the wind had loosened back behind her ear. “Maybe the best thing would be if I just...went back to Sora. To give him back all the memories I’ve used to become myself.”

Roxas did not fully grasp this at once, lost as he was in his own thoughts. When her meaning sunk in, he started.

“No way, Xion! That’s nuts. How can you even think about something like that?”

“Because I’m hurting you, Roxas.” She looked stricken, as if she might cry. “I can see it a little more every day, in your face. You’re so tired all the time, and getting weaker…all because of me. If I weren’t here, you wouldn’t be like this.” Her expression tightened. “Look at you, Roxas. Even right now, you’re really pale…”

“That doesn’t matter,” Roxas said. He scowled and touched his face, rubbing his cheek to force color back into it. “I can deal with it.”

“But you can’t , Roxas. That’s just it. When enough of Sora’s memories come through you to me…you’ll stop existing at all.”

“That’s just a theory. We don’t really know for sure.”

He hated the uncertainty in his own voice even as he said it, hated the knowledge that a theory of Vexen’s was as good as fact. Roxas tried snapping a piece of his ice cream stick in half again, but it being shorter somehow made it stronger, and he couldn’t manage it, not even close. In his frustration he did something he’d never done: dropped both pieces off the edge of the clock tower, watching them fall into a flowering bush planted right beside the station.

“Roxas…”

“I know,” he grumbled. “We’re not supposed to leave any sign we were here.”

“Roxas...”

He looked over at Xion. She still looked frightened, and pulled her legs hanging off the edge of the clock tower up to her chest, sitting curled in a protective ball with her arms wrapped around her knees, resting her chin on them. Roxas felt the same way, but forced himself not to mimic her posture, instead resting the heels of his hands against the warm stone of the clock tower on either side of him, leaning back a little, as if carefree.

“I’ve always been scared of this,” Xion admitted, her voice slightly muffled.

“Of what?”

“Of losing you.” She hugged her knees tighter. “What if I wake up one day and you’ve faded away? What if one of these sunsets is the last time I ever see you?”

Roxas grabbed her wrist—almost too roughly, fierce in his defiance, startling her.

“That’s not going to happen, Xion. And you deserve to exist, just as much as anyone else.”

“But I don’t want to exist if it means that you’re going to suffer and…and die. I can’t watch that happen to you, Roxas. If I went back to Sora, then you would be safe.” She slipped her wrist out of his grasp. “That’s why the Organization had us fight each other yesterday. Because in the end, only one of us can be here. Don’t you understand?”

“No, I don’t,” Roxas said fiercely. “I don’t care what Xemnas or anybody else wants. We can both be here. Vexen can figure out how to fix it. He made you.”

“But what if by then it’s too late?”

“Xion, snap out of it, okay? Things are tough right now, but Vexen’s gonna fix it. He understands what’s going on with us better than anybody. He’ll figure out a way to make it all stop for good.”

It really did feel long ago, that day in Traverse Town. And their first vacation to the beach was even further back, so long ago that Roxas was almost surprised he could remember it at all. So much had happened since then. He’d learned so much, and done so much, and now…

They’d have to go back, he thought fiercely, as soon as things got better. As soon as Sora was destroyed, the three of them would all go back to the beach.

“Did Vexen...tell you that?” Xion asked in a small voice. “That he found a way to help you?”

“Not yet. But I know he can do it.” Roxas held her gaze, hoping she believed him. Hoping he believed himself. “He just needs a little more time. That’s all.”

He cleaned every inch of the lab—not because it needed it, but to give himself something to do when he found he could not concentrate well enough to work. He did not seek her out, and knew he did not need to. Sooner or later, she would come to him.

When she did, she came alone, bearing ice cream that he forced himself to eat without tasting it. There had been no clock tower today, evidently, for she had her own ice cream as well, and ate it in silence on a stool. He talked continually as he shelved books, saying nothing of substance, and to his relief she did not ask him any questions as she ate; the sound of his voice was apparently company enough. Only when her ice cream had been nibbled down to a stub did she speak up at last.

“Vexen...Do you think me and Roxas can start visiting you again soon? I know you’re busy, but it feels like we haven’t seen you in forever.”

Vexen hesitated, then shelved another book, looking at her over the top of it.

“I can’t be certain, Xion. I’m...still occupied.” He shelved another book. “How is Roxas faring, by the way?”

“Not good. He’s still getting worse.” She bit her lip. “He keeps telling me that he can tough it out, but I know he’s lying. He’s always so tired and pale, and he keeps getting weaker. Every time he uses the Keyblade, it wears him down more and more. It scares me…I know it’s my fault. Me and Sora.” She shook her head. “Actually....Roxas wanted to come with me tonight, but I talked him out of it. I wanted to ask you something without him.”

“Oh? And why the secrecy? That’s not like you.”

“Because it’s a surprise for Roxas. Or it’s going to be.” She bit into her stub of ice cream, eating the final morsel and leaving only the stick. “Remember when you explained to us about birthdays?”

“Vaguely. Why?”

“Roxas’s is coming up soon. In a couple of weeks, he’ll be a year old.” She clutched the ice cream stick tightly in her fist, like a talisman. “With everything going on with us…me hurting him so badly…I want to do something good for him. So I want to give him a present for his birthday. But all I’ve ever given him before is seashells, and birthdays seem important, so I want to know what people usually get for their first one.”

She watched Vexen expectantly, waiting for the confident answer he always had. Vexen laughed weakly.

“That’s quite unnecessary, Xion. The Organization doesn’t commemorate those sorts of things.”

“I don’t care what the others do,” she said. “Roxas is my best friend. I’m going to give him something. I just don’t know what, that’s all.” She tilted her head, watching him. “What do you usually get for your birthday, Vexen?”

“Me?” He couldn’t help but laugh again. “Silly as ever, aren’t you? I haven’t received a birthday gift in I don’t know how long. But…Hm.” He forced himself to dig into a handful of memories on the subject, all of them so faded and dusty that it took effort to make out any details. “Well. When I was Roxas’s age, I could never have enough academic texts. Though I doubt that’s a sentiment he would share. And in any case, it’s supposedly the thought behind the gift that matters more than anything.” He regarded her. “You know Roxas best. What do you think would please him?”

Xion frowned, holding a hand to her chin in unconscious mimicry of one of Vexen’s more common poses.

“Ice cream, I guess?” she finally said, her brow furrowed. “But we already have ice cream together every day. It wouldn’t be special. Unless…”

Her eyes lit up, and she dropped her hand. Vexen raised an eyebrow.

“I could make some ice cream,” she said, thinking aloud. “Not sea salt. A special flavor. Like…” She hit a fist lightly into her palm. “That fruit from the islands! The star-shaped one. Remember when we had it on vacation? Roxas really liked it, and I’ve never seen it anywhere else, so it would definitely be special. An ice cream you can’t buy in a store anywhere in the universe...” She looked to Vexen with sudden enthusiasm. “Do you think that would work?”

“I don’t see why not.”

He allowed himself a smile to match hers, and this in turn made her more confident.

“Okay, then I’ll make some next week, the day before his birthday. And you can have half of it, since I’ll need your help.”

Vexen’s smile flickered and faded.

“That…won’t be necessary, Xion. But it’s good of you to offer.”

He turned and busied himself at the shelf with the last of the notebooks in his arms, but Xion, who had spent countless hours watching him do such things, could tell he wasn’t concentrating. He rearranged the same few notebooks without any semblance of order ever coming to the shelf, dumping the final few on their sides, and when he paused Xion spoke up.

“Vexen, are you...feeling okay?”

“What makes you ask?”

“It’s just, you’ve never said no to ice cream…”

He laughed again, and this time it was starkly bitter, enough to make Xion perk up with a look of concern. Vexen moved away from the shelf and over to one of the small metal tables pushed against the wall, and Xion made as if to slide off her seat and follow him, then restrained herself. She stayed in the middle of the empty lab, looking lost in it now that Vexen was not nearby.

“Is Saïx mad at you for stopping me and Roxas from fighting the other day?” she asked keenly, as Vexen fussed with a tray of beakers that had been left to dry. “Are you in trouble?”

“There’s no need to worry about me, Xion.”

“Not you too.” She sighed, putting a hand to her temple. “First Roxas, now you…I can’t help worrying.” She let go of her head. “They won’t turn you into a Dusk, will they? For stopping us?”

“No. Not unless I make…further mistakes.”

The beakers made high, clear clinking noises as he shuffled them around and put them back onto shelves, the sound almost pleasantly musical, if erratic. Xion took a deep breath that left a bitter chemical taste on the back of her tongue, but though unpleasant, it did not bother her—just the opposite. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the metal workbench in front of her, her reflection in it distorted by a ring-shaped burn mark that she’d noticed on the very first day she’d been here, when she’d woken after the Veil Lizard had defeated her in Twilight Town. The lab was neither warm nor inviting, but it was familiar, and she liked it. She hadn’t been in here in weeks.

“Well...Even if you were a Dusk,” she said, watching Vexen’s back, “I promise I’d still come see you every day, and bring you ice cream. Even if I wasn’t supposed to. I’d make sure Saïx never caught me.”

He laughed at the joke, as she hoped he might, but the sound had no mirth in it, only a strange note that reminded her of the bitter chemical taste still lingering in her mouth. All the beakers having been dealt with, Vexen picked up the tray they’d been drying on.

“I’m kidding, Vexen,” she assured him. “I know they wouldn’t really do that. Not to you. You’re too important.”

The tray shook slightly when Vexen slid it back into place on a rack.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” he asked. He did not turn to look at her. “Roxas’s birthday?”

“I guess so.” Xion drew a pattern on the tabletop with one gloved finger. It was the cleanest she’d ever seen it; normally there were papers scattered along at least one end. “Um, I mean...If I have to leave, that’s fine. But I was hoping I could stay a little bit longer.”

His silence in reply carried meaning enough. Xion sighed and slid off the stool. Vexen watched her go.

He could say nothing and watch her head off to bed…but what would be the point? Time would not stand still. He’d simply have to do it tomorrow. Or have it done for him, without his oversight, so that there would be no pieces of her left, and perhaps a flash of red would be the last thing she saw.

She had already reached the door by the time he managed to speak.

“Xion, wait a moment. I have some...other news.”

She stopped just inside the door, turning back to look at him with one hand on the frame.

“What is it?”

He sighed and passed a hand over his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Xion, there’s something that I’ve...been keeping from you. I think...That is to say, I may have found a way to stop you from sapping Roxas’s power any further.”

It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, exactly, but it wasn’t quite a lie either, and for that he was grateful. Xion’s eyes widened, and she bounded back to him.

“Wait—really? You came up with an idea?”

He’d expected the delighted look, but not the hug. The force of it unsteadied him, making him wince as Xion buried her face in his coat.

“You figured it out! I knew you would!”

Vexen said nothing, putting a hand on the back of her head. She took this as permission to hug him tighter, and he realized that apart from her, he couldn’t remember who had been the last person to hug him, or what had motivated them to do it. Even in life, he hadn’t really…It was all so long ago, now.

“It’s probably just a theory, right?” Xion was saying. She finally let go of him. “So when can we test it out? Can we test it right now?”

“Right now?” He hesitated. “I...Yes. I have all of the equipment I’ll need. If you feel you’re ready…”

“Of course I am!” She beamed up at him, clutching the front of his coat with both hands in her excitement. “Do you need Roxas too, or just me? I can go get him.”

“Just you, I think.”

“Then…Don’t tell him about it! In case it actually works. Let’s make it a surprise, okay?”

Reusable, he thought distantly, watching her chatter in sudden excitement. That was the whole point. Whatever she was now was only one possibility out of many, the template’s potential breathtaking in its infinity. She was not the first, and need not be the last. He had the experience now. There was precedent, equipment, plenty of data. No obstacle at all to repeating this experiment a hundred times over, tabulating the results with his usual care, seeing what else came of it by inputting different data, under different initial conditions. When had he ever been reluctant to begin the next phase of an experiment?

“It’s okay if it doesn’t work,” Xion reassured him. “I’m ready to try anything. And even if it doesn’t fix everything, it’ll help you figure out something that will, right? You always say that failing is really important in science.”

This wasn’t pain, he reminded himself. It couldn’t be, because if it was pain he would have to stare it down and claim it, and if he claimed it he would have to claim everything else, all the rest of it waiting in the wings that he ought to have felt long ago. Not pain, not pain, but then this was…disappointment, perhaps. He was permitted that. It was always disappointing to end an experiment if its current phase had been interesting.

It wasn’t pain, no. It wasn’t allowed to be.

“I knew you’d do it, Vexen. I didn’t know how long it would take, but...I knew you’d figure it out eventually. You always figure things out.”

“Now, now, calm down,” he heard himself say, putting a hand on top of her head to gently push her away. “This is nothing to be so cavalier about.”

“I’m not! I’m ready, really. Let’s do it—for Roxas.”

In her enthusiasm she darted back and forth between two workbenches before spotting a metal gurney against the wall, its wheels locked. She hopped up to sit on the side of this.

“My, you’re very gung-ho, aren’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? If I can give Roxas even a little bit of his power back, it’ll be a better present than ice cream.” Xion sat on her hands. “Even if this only helps him a little bit, even if it doesn’t last that long...it’s worth it. We have to give it a shot.”

Vexen rubbed his temple.

“Well, the procedure is very…involved,” he said. “It will take some time. You’ll have to be asleep for it.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed, as if she’d hoped it might somehow be no more inconvenient than clipping her fingernails. “Well...it doesn’t matter how long it takes. Because when it’s done—Roxas will start feeling better, won’t he? He won’t be hurting anymore because of me.”

“Ideally, you won’t cause him the slightest discomfort ever again.”

That wasn’t really a lie, either.

Xion beamed.

“Do I need to do anything?” she asked eagerly. “Is there anything I can do to help make sure it works?”

“No, Xion, it’s quite all right.”

He crossed to her, and the gurney sat so high that for once they were nearly eye level, Xion still smiling. He could not return the gesture, not even through force of habit.

“Xion, I’ve…” What to say? “I’m...pleased that I met you, Xion. You’ve been my most...enlightening experiment, I think. A fine specimen.”

Xion looked puzzled, but laughed into the back of her hand.

“It sounds weird when you say it like that. Like I’m a frog or something.” She laughed again, and her delight at the prospect of helping Roxas was so great that her quizzical tone had no suspicion in it. “But—well, I’m glad I met you too, I guess. I mean, you made me. If you weren’t here, I don’t know what I’d do.”

A sampling of Sora’s memories and some additional data from Roxas, fed into a blank template that met only the most academic definition of ‘life.’ What was all the rest? If not an illusion, then where had it all come from?

“You’re in a weird mood,” she told him, nudging him with one leg. “Is your theory really gonna be that hard to test?”

Time and time again he’d told her not to build a future in her mind, and yet she’d disobeyed, so that as she gazed at him he could read every piece of it in her blue eyes: ice cream and laughter and school bells ringing, a townhouse with flowerpots in the windows, the whistle of an afternoon tram passing overhead. White sandy shores, sometimes. Vexen bent and peered into her face, and his grave expression sobered her a little, her smile weakening.

“Vexen...what’s wrong?”

“Xion, look at me. This is very important.” He tilted her chin up, the better to gaze intently into her blue eyes. “Do you have any more questions?”

“Questions? About what?”

“Anything. Anything your heart wants to know.”

“Um…Not really. I mean, not right this second.”

She reached up and found the wrist of his hand touching her chin, her small fingers closing around it. He flinched, as if stung.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Vexen? You look really nervous about this.”

He ran a thumb along her cheek, studying the face that had so surprised him that day in front of the mansion in Twilight Town. Neither Sora nor Roxas, nor even the girl Kairi. A being all her own. He’d have the notes, at least, and the memories of this experiment. It was enough. It had to be.

It was more than he had left of her brothers.

“Vexen?”

With a great effort, he let her go.

Though he turned away, her worried look followed him, and he could feel it as he crossed back to the far counter. His own footsteps sounded loud in a way they never had before. Perhaps he’d simply never noticed it.

“Nothing’s wrong with me, Xion,” he said loudly, so that she could hear it behind him. It was not really a lie.

“Are you nervous about working on me again?” She sounded sympathetic. “Me too, a little bit. But I know you won’t mess up. You never have before, right?”

“No. I haven’t.”

He opened and closed cabinets and drawers, retrieving this or that item he thought he might need, laying them out on trays in a jumble along the counter. He did not let himself glance over his shoulder at Xion, but the lack of footsteps told him she remained seated on the gurney, saying nothing anymore, just watching him work as she’d so often done. When his hands started to shake, he paused until they’d steadied before picking up the next object. Metal rattled against metal, clinked against glass.

“So...This will take a while?” came her voice from behind him.

“In all likelihood.”

Yesterday and the day before, he’d cleaned and honed everything he’d need; half this equipment hadn’t been touched since the Replica units left their tanks. He passed a hand over a row of implements like a pianist feeling the keys, and his gloved fingers found a scalpel, pausing on it, as if striking a single note. He picked it up and held it up to the light, which flashed off its sharpened edge.

“Will I feel it?” Xion asked. “I mean, I know I won’t be awake, but—will it hurt?”

“Will it hurt?” He looked at her reflection in the flat of the scalpel’s blade. “Only a little.”

This, finally, was a lie. It wouldn’t hurt at all.

Chapter Text

For the first time in a long time, Roxas woke feeling refreshed. He noticed it at once, and stared at the ceiling before pulling himself up and running a hand through his hair, blinking in the eternal moonlight. He felt…good. Not tired. He’d dreamed, yes, but he couldn’t remember the dreams. It was like a weight had slid off his chest in his sleep.

His mission took him to Never Land, where he felled Heartless with more speed and strength than he’d been able to muster in many weeks. Flying exhilarated him, and when he could find no more Heartless he did not RTC at once, instead staying the whole day just to explore the island from above, doing loops around low-lying clouds, racing seagulls for the thrill of it, relishing his newfound energy. It was the most fun he’d ever had on a mission by himself.

He waited impatiently on the clock tower in Twilight Town, itching to tell Xion all about his spontaneous recovery, but half an hour dragged into an hour that dragged into two hours, and still she never showed. Still, he waited--waited as long as she had been waiting for him lately, all the way until nightfall, until the sun was gone and the stars had come and there wasn’t a single soul in the lamplit plaza below him, and the tower itself became a beacon amongst a sea of house lights and street lamps shining all up and down the surrounding hills, like a carpet of strange flowers that only bloomed at night. Only when the moon peered around the far side of the clock tower did Roxas allow himself to give up.

Maybe she’d already had her ice cream before he arrived. Maybe she just hadn’t wanted any today.

In his room he pulled the latest ice cream stick out of his pocket, realizing he hadn’t thrown it away in town, and a burst of excitement hit him as he noticed what he hadn’t in the gloaming on the clock tower: this stick, finally, said WINNER. He found the other two sticks, the first one he’d gotten and the one Xion had given him, and set them in a row beside his pillow, smiling at them as he flopped into bed.

Finally, three sticks. Now all of them could get ice cream together. He and Xion would drag Vexen to Twilight Town for it; the occasion warranted the hassle. It wasn’t even that the ice cream cost enough to make getting it for free a big deal. It was just that he’d been waiting for so long…

He lay in bed trying to sleep, and found that he couldn’t, even though he was tired--tired in the right way, from exerting himself all day. He wanted to tell Xion. He hadn’t seen her at all today. And if she’d had an especially tough mission, maybe the news about the ice cream sticks and his renewed health would cheer her up. After all, she’d been worried about him for so long.

His first instinct was to go to the lab, but it was late enough that he realized she’d surely be asleep by now, even if she had gone and said hi to Vexen. Instead Roxas made his way instead to another of the corridors across the middle level of the castle, moving through halls of endless white and dark and glass, every window he passed pierced by the milky light of Kingdom Hearts hanging directly above the castle.

She did not answer the door. He knocked again, a little more loudly, though not so loudly that it might attract any passing Dusks. There weren’t any rules about it, as far as he knew, but he still had an idea that he might not want to be caught roaming around the castle when he was supposed to be asleep.

“Hey, Xion? You awake?”

He carefully prized the door open and poked his head inside. She lay in bed, sleeping.

“Xion?”

She did not sit up or stir. The moonlight of Kingdom Hearts rippled as it bathed her in its soft glow, and something about it struck Roxas as oddly eerie, though he’d seen it countless times.

Strange, that she would sleep wearing her hood up like that.

“Hey, Xion, guess what? I finally got another winner.” He held up the stick, trotting across the room, into the column of moonlight. “We can get free ice cream now. All three of us. I was thinking we should surprise Vexen with...”

He stopped when he reached the side of the bed.

If this had been Xion once, there was no way of telling. The pale thing lying there had none of her features, or indeed any features at all. The familiar hollows and curves of Xion’s face had melted away, reduced to something cold and plastic, the generic shape of a mannequin’s head. Her hair was gone. She did not seem to be breathing, and did not react to Roxas’s voice, or to the touch of his hand on her shoulder.

“Xion?”

Her eyes weren’t blue anymore. Even the light of Kingdom Hearts couldn’t make them anything but a dull gray.

“Xion? Xion!”

No. i did not stir. It lay in Xion’s bed, in Xion’s coat, staring at the ceiling with the glassy eyes of a piece of taxidermy. No expression marred the perfection of its smooth, dead face.

His first impression was that Vexen, too, was asleep. When the door to the lab hissed open Roxas saw him sitting at his desk with his back to the door, unmoving, head down on the table as if he’d fallen asleep writing. Roxas’s voice did not rouse him until the third try.

“Vexen! Wake up! Vexen!”

Roxas stopped in the middle of the room, trembling and panting, waiting for Vexen to spring to life. But he moved only slowly, first raising his head and then pulling himself up onto his elbows, saying nothing. He moved with great care, as if he were stiff or sore, and did not turn around.

“Something’s wrong!” Roxas trembled, his face chalk-white, having run pell-mell the whole way down to the lab. The familiar chemical scent of it stung his nostrils with every gasping breath. “It’s Xion, something’s happened to her! She looks—different, she’s passed out and I think she’s hurt or something, her face—you need to come upstairs—”

Roxas cut himself off in anticipation of the inevitable interruption. But Vexen did not speak, nor spring to his feet—nor move much at all. Still sitting with his back to Roxas, he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, then held his face. Roxas waited.

Vexen did nothing.

“Are you even listening? Vexen!”

Vexen sat up straighter, letting go of his head. There was no other motion in the lab, no flickering of its harsh, bright lights; only the faint bubbling of the tanks against the wall kept the silence from being total.

“What’s going on, Vexen?”

Vexen shuddered once, violently, as if a spasm of cold had passed over him. His hands still resting on the desk clenched into fists.

Suddenly Roxas understood.

“It was you. You...you did something to her…”

Vexen finally eased himself to his feet, holding the back of the chair, as if he were too weak to stand up straight. He did not turn around to face Roxas, and his voice, when he spoke, was a hoarse croak.

“The Superior...gave orders.”

“Orders to what?” Something horrible had come alive inside Roxas, eating through his guts like a tapeworm. “What happened to Xion? What did you do?”

Vexen bowed his head. He spoke not to Roxas, but to the surface of the desk below his splayed hands. His long hair fell across his face like a curtain, so that even if Roxas had been close enough, he could not have read his expression.

“There is no ‘Xion’ anymore. I purged her of all data, and…excised Sora’s memories. She is a template again. An empty vessel.”

The words had no meaning, like a fragment of stranger’s conversation overheard in a crowd. Roxas stared, waiting for more. Waiting for it to make sense.

“Why would Xemnas…” It was hard to think all of a sudden. “So...so put it all back, then. Everything you took out of her. Go put it back.”

“I can’t. It’s all gone.”

“It can’t be gone . That’s not—that isn’t how it works, right? Xion isn’t really...”

His head swam. He clutched his temple, but the growing realization did not fade away, any more than a vision of Sora would have.

“But you can fix her.” His voice cracked. “That’s what you do. You’ve always been able to fix her…”

He’d fallen asleep, surely, because the bright light and chemical taste and echoing silence of the lab were no longer familiar. Everything had a harsh, alien cast, because this was really a nightmare, and that explained what he’d seen what he’d seen and why Vexen wasn’t himself, why Xion had randomly been replaced with a puppet. A nightmare all his own, for once, and not of Sora’s making.

“I had orders,” came Vexen’s weak voice. “If I’d refused...”

Just a nightmare.

Roxas’s eyes started to burn. Something warm and wet caressed the side of his face, running down his cheek to drip from his chin, and another one followed it, and another. It tasted like sea salt.

“There was no way to spare her.” Vexen’s voice stayed hoarse. “She had been destroying you, Roxas. Xemnas wants you alive. I had no choice.”

It was just another nightmare, and if he left, maybe it would be enough to wake him up.

He crashed into a table as he staggered for the door, knocking against it so hard that a pair of trays tipped from its edge and hit the floor, sending liquid and glassware shattering. The noise hit him like a punch, startling all his senses, louder and clearer than anything a nightmare could produce but it had to be a nightmare, that’s all this was, just a nightmare he could wake up from if he only did the right thing—

The sound of him running down the hall echoed strangely, as if there were more than one of him, and even when he was long gone, Vexen did not move. He stayed holding onto the edge of the table with both hands, staring at the mess of notes scattered across it, at last turning around to take in the spilled solutions and shattered glass left in Roxas’s wake, puddles of liquid oozing across the floor. When he finally crossed the room, it was only to bend and pick up the ice cream stick that Roxas had dropped in his flight.

“Roxas has left us,” Xemnas announced.

A ripple passed through the assembly, coats rustling, low murmurs. There were only seven of them gathered here now.

“Do we know where he has headed?” asked Xaldin.

“Not far.” Xemnas looked down at him. “We had hoped he might return by now, but it seems his desertion is permanent. His flight was spurred by recent developments with one of our...special projects.”

“Special projects? What does that mean, exactly?” Luxord asked. Xigbar chuckled.

“Talking about the Replica Program. Isn’t it obvious?”

It wasn’t, at least not to half the room. Xaldin’s eyes flashed, and Demyx sat up straighter in his seat, bewildered.

“The what-ca?” Demyx asked.

“Perhaps you’d care to enlighten us about this pet project of yours?” Xaldin suggested, folding his arms.

Xemnas settled himself more comfortably into his chair as all attention fixed on him.

“The goal,” he began, “was to duplicate the Keyblade wielder’s memories, and through them, his powers—thus making them our own. Vexen oversaw the project, and created Replica templates for storing the necessary memories. However…This particular Replica, the one we called Xion, somehow came to form an identity of its own.”

“Xion is a puppet?” Demyx asked, alarmed.

“Indeed. But as of yesterday, ‘Xion’ is no more.” Xemnas’s even tone did not change. “Although the copying was successful, Xion unfortunately began to interfere with Roxas’s abilities. Through Sora’s memories, it started sapping power away from Roxas and into itself. We could not maintain them both. Since Xion’s identity prevented it from being the perfect copy we had wanted, keeping Roxas—and perhaps, attempting the project again later—was the obvious solution. Xion was scrapped. But now, Roxas has left us.”

“So we gambled on doubling our odds,” Luxord mused, “and instead we’ve lost the whole hand.”

“How could he leave, though?” Demyx asked. “He can’t just bail on us, right?”

“Sora’s memories have deluded him,” said Xemnas. “He believed Xion to be his ‘friend,’ and has stolen what is left of it. A pitiful gesture.”

“In that case, he can’t have gotten far,” Xaldin growled. “But why should we allow a deserter back at all? He ought to be eradicated on sight.”

“Should Roxas indeed invite his own destruction, we will have to again hinge our plans on Sora, which would delay our goal. Take that into consideration.”

“He must be spared, then?”

“I would prefer it. If he refuses to see reason, he may be dealt with in due time.”

“This is some seriously heavy stuff,” Demyx muttered, squirming in his seat.

Vexen heard the back-and-forth talk only in brief snatches, like a radio going in and out of tune. He sat slumped forward in his seat, and instead of looking up at the others—for everyone in the Organization sat higher than him—Vexen gazed only at the pattern on the floor between the circle of thirteen thrones. In his lap lay the ice cream stick that Roxas had dropped the night before, and periodically he picked it up and turned it over and over in his hands, running a finger along the side, as if it fascinated him.

Xemnas’s voice reached him sometimes, but never loudly, nor with any meaning. It simply enveloped his mind like a black fog, eroding the edges of his thoughts. His gaze drifted between his lap and the floor, though he did not focus on either, any more than he focused on the conversation happening above him. Only when he heard his name did he finally glance up, and even then, only long enough to see that everyone was collectively gazing down at him, as if waiting for something.

“You were asked,” came Xemnas’s smooth voice, “whether we must retrieve Roxas in good condition in order to copy his powers.”

Silence.

After several seconds Vexen finally stirred himself and glanced up again—but only briefly, and he did not sit up straighter in his seat.

“Yes.”

He returned his attention to the ice cream stick.

Peripherally he was aware of everyone staring down at him still, but he said nothing more. Far above him were things he sensed distantly but not heed: rustling, a cough, whispers.

“Do you have any further insight, Vexen?” Xemnas asked.

“No.”

Silence—longer this time, everyone waiting for him to fill it with the detailed explanation he always demanded to give. Vexen gazed at the floor without seeing it.

“Very well,” said Xemnas. “In that case…”

Discussion resumed; Vexen could not listen. The words flitted hither and thither above him like birds in the treetops, busy, meaningless.

“I can’t believe Roxas went AWOL!” Demyx said, shaking his head. “He always seemed like such a hardworking guy.”

“Treason cannot be tolerated,” Saïx replied, “regardless of the circumstances. Our Keyblade wielder must be retrieved.”

“Must he?” Xaldin folded his arms. “If he’s truly abandoned his duty, then he’s as much a danger as a disgrace. Better to end him and find his other half than to risk everything we’ve accomplished on his sense of cooperation.”

Xemnas, listening to all of this, settled himself against the back of his chair.

“He need not be cooperative. Merely…functional.”

Luxord had summoned his cards, and the sound of them shuffling themselves in midair underscored the others’ conversation. He caught them and then turned over the topmost card, holding it out between two fingers to gesture with it.

“Quite a shame that Roxas chose to cash out so early, one must admit. He won’t enjoy his winnings long. In the end, it’s always the house that comes out on top.”

Xigbar laughed, though he was the only one who did. Xemnas exhaled, a sound that would have been a sigh if there’d been even the pretense of feeling in it.

“It is, perhaps, an unfortunate turn of events. But we must press on. Our goal, so long awaited, lies nearly within reach. As soon as Roxas is found, we must do everything in our power…”

Far below them all, Vexen slowly traced the rim of the stick with his finger, around and around, staring at its message.

WINNER

It was raining. Roxas pulled his hood tighter around his face, but the light wind still tossed droplets into his eyes that he blinked away as best as he could. Xion’s body was not heavy, but he had been carrying it for a long time. The alley he’d been following disgorged him at the intersection in front of Memory’s Skyscraper, and he stared up at its huge, ever-changing neon screens before surrendering, kneeling to slide the empty Replica template off of his back and onto the wet pavement. For all his care, the lightweight doll still fell into a puddle, splashing.

He dragged it out, checking it over hurriedly, but no damage seemed to have been done. Both the coat it still wore and the plastic-like substance of which it seemed to be made repelled water easily. Roxas threw his own hood back, not caring about how the drizzle wetted his hair, plastering it to his forehead. He stretched his back and rubbed his sore shoulder, thinking, heedless of the occasional Shadow’s eyes that winked at him from the far depths of the surrounding alleyways.

He had to leave here and go to some other world. But which one? Even now, many hours later, he had not been able to decide. Twilight Town was obvious—too obvious—and he knew no safe place to keep her there. He hadn’t had a plan when he’d left the castle, and had even less of one now, burdened by the weight of what remained of his only friend. Now that he’d fled it, he recognized the Castle That Never Was as the only home he’d ever had, and the only place he’d ever felt completely safe. The lie of it burned in his gut, as though he’d swallowed something poisonous.

Roxas bent over the template, peering into its hooded lack of a face. Only yesterday, this had been her. She’d teased and smiled, and laughed with him about something stupid…and now she had no mouth to smile with, lying on the sidewalk like roadkill. Not even a trick of the light could put features on her again.

The sight of rain falling onto the template’s smooth, shiny face—eliciting no reaction, not the slightest sign of life—drove it home, loathe as Roxas was to believe it. This was just a carcass. Xion was gone—gone from the worlds forever—gone as surely as Axel had gone—

—and the thought of Axel struck him with a dull horror as he realized how easily, how thoroughly he had forgotten him. He had no idea when Axel had crossed his mind last. He remembered the color of his hair, but not the color of his eyes. He remembered the sound of his voice, but only in small clips; the cadence of it had gone, so that he could not construct for Axel any new sentences in his head. What was that phrase he always used to say? Something about ‘memorize.’ And maybe the voice Roxas thought he remembered wasn’t even correct. He had no way of knowing. It had been so long ago.

It had been only a year ago.

He had forgotten Axel. And he could forget Xion, too.

The realization sickened him. He sat down hard on the cracked curb as if struck by a blow, suddenly tired, an ache inside him so vast that he clutched his chest through his coat, feeling for the wound that must surely have been rent there. Somehow there was nothing. He stared at his own reflection in a puddle the rain had formed on the black street. The blue eyes that stared back at him could easily have been Xion’s.

After a time—he did not know how long—a clattering noise came to him from above, like something falling down the side of the tall skyscraper, hitting the pavement. He looked up.

Riku already had his blade drawn. His boots left a silvery wake in the rainwater as he advanced, stopping a stone’s throw away from Roxas. The wind tugged at his blindfold. He said nothing.

The Keyblade came, as it always had, and without robbing his strength. Slowly, Roxas planted the teeth of it in the concrete, using it to pull himself upright. Riku waited. A pair of Neoshadows that stalked too close to Riku vanished in immolating bursts of darkfire that hissed and sputtered in the rain, but when they had vanished, Riku did nothing else. He just kept waiting.

“What do you want with me?”

The empty alleys that fed into the intersection echoed Roxas’s voice. He tried to shout, but it was difficult. His voice didn’t work well.

“Go pick on somebody else for once!”

“You know why I’m here. I need the rest of Sora’s memories.” Riku pointed his blade off to the side, at what had once been Xion. “One down, one to go.”

Rage like nothing he had ever known surged through him. Some tiny voice in the corner of his mind told him it was intentional, that Riku was deliberately goading him to drop his guard, but Roxas did not care. The Keyblade exploded into his hand in a shower of sparks, and for the first time, it was not alone. Another surge of power coursed through him, and when he extended his other hand, a second Keyblade materialized in his grasp.

He looked at them both, recognizing neither, yet knowing instinctively what each meant. One was his: dark, jagged, the token on its keychain a black iron crown. The other was bright and beautiful, its white-gold filigree blossoming into a rainbow of colors around the delicate teeth. From its keychain swung a charm made of seashells sewn together into a five-pointed star, like the fruit they’d eaten on the Destiny Islands.

Somehow, she’d left him a parting gift.

He charged, screaming. Riku easily stepped to the side as he passed, but Roxas planted one Keyblade in the pavement and swung himself around on it, his momentum so strong that the other blade would have cleaved Riku in half with his downward stroke had Riku not blocked it, holding his sword above him with his palm pressed to the flat, the metals shrieking as they ground against one another.

“You can’t have her! You can’t have any piece of her!”

“I don’t need her anymore.” Riku’s eyes seemed to burn through the blindfold. “All I need is you.”

Roxas screamed again, bringing both Keyblades down over and over against Riku’s guard without any sense or skill, as if trying to destroy a door with a sledgehammer. He felt the dark pulse hit his chest and staggered, but brought himself up again in an instant, delivering a slash with the back of Oathkeeper that caught Riku just below the shoulder, spraying a thin fan of blood that mingled with the rain into a pink mist. Riku cried out, but did not drop his guard, instead switching his blade to the other hand to parry Roxas’s next strikes in rapid succession, backing away each time until he reached the pitch-dark shadows beneath the awning of the skyscraper.

Even in his fury, Roxas knew better than to follow Riku into his element. Instead he stayed in the middle of the deserted road, where the light of street lamps on either side overlapped into a harsh neon spotlight that made him look as if he were on stage. In the damp and dark, whatever drizzle of blood Riku had left as a trail in the asphalt was invisible.

“Come out and fight!” Roxas yelled to the darkness. “You really want Sora’s memories so bad, then come and get them!”

He brandished the Keyblades, crossing them in front of him into an X, tasting the rain as he panted, waiting for a shadow that moved too quickly to be real. Instead the blow came from diagonally behind him, so hard that the hit the pavement and rolled, splashing through puddles, the Keyblades sharp against his body as he spun around and around. He caught himself and scrambled up, but another sword-strike slashed him as he did, knocking him back again, cutting a ribbon-like slice across the front of his coat.

The next blow did not land. Roxas intercepted it, crossing both Keyblades across Riku’s arm to pin it to the ground, buying himself the fraction of a second needed to leap backwards out of range. Riku rubbed his injured shoulder as Roxas retreated.

“Giving up already? Come on, Sora. I thought you were stronger than that.”

“Get real! Look which one of us is winning!”

It was not Roxas’s own voice that answered. Riku hesitated, though he kept moving, not making himself a target.

“So it’s true. You really are his Nobody. Guess DiZ was right after all.”

“I’m not Sora!” His voice—what had that been— “I am me! Nobody else! Sora’s the one who’s nobody!”

Riku blocked Oblivion after he threw it, knocking it high into the air. It slammed into one of the flickering screens on the nearby skyscraper, raining glass down into the street between them like jagged crystal tears. Roxas called Oblivion back into his hand, readying Oathkeeper in the other, crossing them in front of his face to block another blast of darkfire that Riku had thrown, and in so doing Roxas saw an opening: Riku’s arm that he’d cut was still bleeding, and Riku’s grip on his weapon had weakened. Riku threw more darkfire instead of raising his sword, and Roxas cast fire of his own to intercept it, the two spells colliding in a burst of heat that sizzled purple and orange before the light rain extinguished the remnants. Riku whirled, searching.

Roxas had used the explosion as cover to come at him from behind, and though Riku blocked in time, the force of the blow knocked him backwards into a lamp post, which he grabbed at instinctively—crying out in pain as the movement further injured his arm. He rolled away to avoid a swing from Oathkeeper that sliced the lamp post in two, the top half of it falling like a tree trunk into the street, while its base popped with sparks that hissed in the rain, like blood gushing from a severed artery. In the middle of the street, Riku stood in a puddle, panting, clutching his arm.

“How many times do I have to beat you?” Roxas called. “I don’t care what happens to Sora. Just leave me alone!”

Riku grit his teeth and shifted his grip on his injury. Blood ran down his arm inside his coat, dripping off of his fingertips onto the rain-soaked pavement.

“All right. You’ve left me with no other choice.”

“What?”

“I have to release the power in my heart.” Riku reached behind his head with his good hand, touching the knot of his blindfold. “The dark power that I’ve been holding back. Even…if it changes me forever.”

Roxas hesitated as the blindfold fluttered to the ground.

A tide of darkness hit him like the shockwave of an explosion, knocking him backward. Before he hit the ground, something caught him—pinning his arms to his sides, squeezing all the air out of him like a vise, specks of light popping across his vision like fireworks as the iron grip sucked more than the breath out of him, draining his energy.

Roxas tried to thrash and swooned, reeling, his head going limp on his shoulder as his vision blurred. The darkness ate at the edge of his vision and the corners of his mind. He did not feel the Keyblades fall from his grasp, only hearing them clatter to the asphalt below his dangling boots.

A face looked at him through the pain, a face that he almost recognized even in his delirium. Xemnas?

“I have accepted it.”

That voice…

He struggled, but it only weakened him further, so that his head fell sideways onto his shoulder and his eyes rolled back in his head. Another face, above and beyond Xemnas’s, silhouetted against Kingdom Hearts—an ugly lipless grin, darkness made flesh, leering with glowing eyes as it crushed his frail body in its grasp. Roxas tried to inhale, and the Heartless’s grip squeezed tighter, bruising his ribs, choking away whatever air he might have used to scream.

He struggled, but the struggle was feeble. Soon the only thing that penetrated his blurred vision was the blue glow of Kingdom Hearts high above, a pale smear on a black canvas that speckled itself with red. He could not fight—could not breathe—could not even think—except to realize he would not go where her heart had gone, that there was nothing in him that could pass on once his soul and flesh had been destroyed—  

Something happened, but Roxas had no idea what, blind and dazed and choking. All he felt was the temperature plummet, stinging his face and eyes, and then the creature crushing him in its claws abruptly let him go. He hit the slick pavement and rolled away, feeling as he did that the rainwater pooled on the ground had frozen over. Cold stung him as he rolled over the thin ice, cracking it to pieces beneath his weight.

The night sky above came into view, spinning, then stabilized. Every second free of the creature’s grasp filled Roxas with strength. He took huge, gulping breaths and staggered to his feet, but fell again at once, gasping, catching himself on his knees.

A roar and burst of light from off to his side made him flatten, but the huge ball of darkfire that had been shot exploded against something beside him, something that had not been there a moment ago. Roxas looked up.

A spiked shield had materialized with its tip planted in the cracked pavement, large enough to protect his whole body. Roxas used it to pull himself to his feet, then drew his Keyblades again, gritting his teeth. The parasitic darkness had wholly left Roxas. His strength blazed anew in the rain.

“Show’s over!” he yelled at the man Riku had become.

The man looked much like Xemnas, and yet he no longer wore the Organization’s coat as Riku had, nor did he stand upon the pavement with drawn sword. He simply floated, oozing darkness, the sheer power radiating off of him sending gooseflesh up Roxas’s skin.

“I agree,” said the man—and his voice was not Xemnas’s exactly, but as similar as his face was: deep, sonorous with authority. He raised a hand, gloved in white now instead of black, and an orb appeared in it, darkness so highly concentrated that it crackled white and purple like caged lightning. Roxas darted out of the way just before the orb hit the shield, exploding it into a shower of ice crystals.

In his peripheral vision, Roxas saw him off to the side, a tall familiar shape summoning another shield. Roxas stayed focused on Riku, or whoever it was that Riku had become. The silver-haired man floated with folded arms, his monstrous guardian hovering at his shoulder, tethered to his body like a nightmare made flesh.

Roxas did not think; he had no time for it. He only charged.

All the puddles in the pavement iced over all at once, the black roadway suddenly shimmering white in the moonlight. Roxas could not have run on hard ground fast enough to dodge the projectiles the man fired from the palm of his hand, but the wet ice gave him extra speed, letting him skid past the bolts just before they exploded behind him, like land mines detonating in sequence. Before he reached his opponent, a column of ice burst upward directly beneath him, and Roxas rode it upwards in a crouch before leaping off its peak a dozen feet into the air.

The golden-eyed man had raised his arms to block Roxas’s oncoming strike, but Roxas soared up past him, higher still. With a cry, he instead brought a Keyblade down on the hideous guardian sprouting from the man’s back. Oathkeeper stabbed straight into the guardian’s maw, down its throat, the silvery teeth suddenly protruding from the hole in its chest. He let go of Oathkeeper’s hilt as he fell, hacking at the monster with Oblivion on the way down as darkness bubbled over it like boiling water.

A platform of ice rose up and caught him before he slammed into the pavement. He landed and rolled away, calling Oathkeeper back to him, looking for another opening, but Riku-who-was-not-Riku did not strike. The man reeled in the air, engulfed the roiling darkness that his guardian seemed to be bleeding, and Roxas recognized too late that the darkness was letting him escape.

“Don’t you dare!”

Oblivion whirled through the air, tearing into the space where the man had hovered, but only a cloud of darkness remained there, dissipating like smoke. The Keyblade shredded the darkness and clattered to the ground, vanishing to reappear in Roxas’s hand. But the man—Riku—was gone.

Roxas waited, panting, turning every which way with flashing eyes. Nothing. Only moonlight and rain, and the harsh flickering fluorescents of this dead shell of a city. A few Shadows off in the alleys, creeping flat along the ground, but nothing that dared to challenge him. Silence, but for the raindrops hitting the hood of his coat.

One of the large shadows moved to approach him, splashing through shimmering puddles.

“Foolish boy!” Vexen hissed. “Do you know what he truly is? If he hadn’t been caught off guard, you’d be dead! The full extent of Riku’s power—”

Oblivion’s teeth slashed Vexen’s face, making him cry out, staggering. The back of Oathkeeper hit him in the sternum, dropping him to his knees, and another blow from Oblivion in the small of his back pitched him forward onto the wet pavement, splashing. With difficulty, Vexen brought himself onto his hands and knees, then froze. Cold metal tines pressed into the nape of his neck, hard enough to break the skin.

“Roxas—”

“Shut up. Don’t move.”

The teeth of Oblivion pressed harder, bowing Vexen’s head so low that he looked as if he were begging on his hands and knees, his long wet hair falling into his face. Through the blade, Roxas could feel him trembling. He tightened his grip on both Keyblades, Oathkeeper hanging at his side while he held Oblivion against the back of Vexen’s neck like an executioner’s axe. He pressed harder.

“Roxas, please…Please don't…”

“Give me one good reason not to do it.”

A whimper, a soft noise like a moan, both stifled—and no words.

Roxas waited, steadying his own breathing, pain and rage flaring hot inside him, like embers ready to be kindled by the first word of the excuses that were surely coming. Vexen tried to look up, but Roxas put Oathkeeper under his neck, pushing the flat of it so hard against Vexen’s throat that when he swallowed, Roxas could feel faint vibrations up through the hilt.

“You killed her.” His voice quavered. “You killed Xion.”

“Roxas—”

“She trusted you. We both did. And you killed her.”

The flat side of Oblivion hit the back of Vexen’s head. Oathkeeper’s metal tines would have impaled the soft flesh of his throat had Roxas not withdrawn the blade just beforehand, so that the blow from Oblivion slammed Vexen face-first into the wet, icy pavement. Roxas’s lip twitched at the muffled noise of pain.

“But she wouldn’t have wanted me to kill you.” He turned away. “You’re pathetic. Get out of here.”

From behind him came the sounds of Vexen struggling to his feet. Roxas’s grip on both his Keyblades clenched so tight that the tips of his fingers went numb.

“I said get out. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Roxas, I came to warn you. The Organization has put out a search for you. Even the lessers will be seeking you out.”

“I don’t care.”

He looked up at the Castle That Never Was, hanging high and distant above the dark city, shining white like a heavenly mirage.

“You’ll be hunted.” Urgency filled Vexen’s shaking voice. “Do you understand that, Roxas? You must go hide yourself away. Do everything you can to avoid being—”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Vexen flinched when Roxas whirled back and pointed Oathkeeper in his direction.

“If they come after me, I’ll take care of them. I’m done with the Organization. All of it.” His gaze moved from the castle to Kingdom Hearts. “They never cared about us anyway. Me or Xion. All they care about is the Keyblade.”

He held up both of his weapons, looking between them, studying their new features. Both were subtly familiar in that subconscious way whose significance he’d come to recognize. Sora had used both of these before.

Sora could go to hell.

He dismissed them both in disgust, turning away and looking around for Xion’s body. It lay where he’d left it under a flickering streetlamp, helpless, lifeless, a piece of trash put out on the curb for collection. He stormed towards it as Vexen’s voice came from behind him.

“Do you think no one before you has ever tried to leave, Roxas? You’ll be turned into a Dusk, or worse. You need to—”

“Shut up. For once in your life just shut up. ”

Roxas reached the lamp post and glared over his shoulder at Vexen, who had dared to follow him, though at a distance. In the neon light of the sleepless, empty city, Vexen’s hollow face already looked bruised, and a string of red dots bled across his throat like a delicate necklace. The blood mixed with rainwater as it ran down his throat, down into his collarbones, until he Cured it all away. He touched his throat with his fingertips, then took another few steps forward, making Roxas bristle.

“Roxas—if you won’t return, then you must hide. The Superior has ordered for you to be—”

“You came all the way out here to tell me to run away? That’s all you ever tell me.”

“Roxas—”

“Get out of here,” Roxas spat. He felt himself shaking. “Go crawl back to the lab. That’s all you care about, isn’t it? All your stupid—your work. Your precious research. That’s all that’s ever mattered to you.” He spared Xion’s body a glance, then wiped rain out of his face with the back of his slick glove. “Go hole yourself up and never come out. I never want to see you again.”

“It...had to be done, Roxas. The goals of the Organization—”

“Goals?” Roxas pointed up at the enormous moon. “Like that? That thing’s supposed to be worth more than her?”

Vexen looked up at the moon. The light of it fell on his gaunt face, casting shadows inside his hollow cheeks, making his already pale complexion so washed-out that he looked like a drowned corpse.

“Roxas, listen to me—”

“I’m through listening to you.”

“Roxas—”

“You lied to her! To both of us!”

“They wanted her gone. I had no choice.” Vexen pushed damp hair out of his eyes. “If I hadn’t done it, they would have destroyed her utterly. The way I did it…she felt nothing. There was no pain.”

“You think that makes it okay?”

Vexen swallowed.

“No. But if I hadn’t done it carefully…if she’d been simply destroyed…then her essence would have been lost. She would be gone, and no one would remember she ever existed. This way…was best.”

“Coward.”

Vexen flinched.

“Roxas, please understand. I did everything I could to—”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t even try.”

“They told me to choose, Roxas. Between the pair of you...which one of you should live. I told them we needed you both. I pleaded with the Superior. But, because I didn’t decide…”

“They chose for you,” Roxas finished, realization dawning.

The mission in the graveyard, when he’d thought she was a Heartless. That was why they’d been made to fight each other. Because Vexen had refused to pick between them.

“What else could I have done, Roxas?” Vexen asked. “If I’d refused orders, I’d be dead or Dusked. And you’d be dead yourself, sooner or later. Her very existence was killing you. I did everything I could—”

“No, you didn’t. You could have done something else.” He hated that he had no idea what. “There had to be another way. You always say that...”

He suddenly felt exhausted, as if only now had his body realized that the fight with Riku was over. Roxas leaned against the lamp post and closed his eyes, then swallowed rain and allowed himself the weakness of vulnerability, easing his aching body down to sit on the curb beside Xion’s template. Its smooth, damp surface glistened, reflecting the lamp light. He refused to acknowledge Vexen when he, too, sat down on the curb at a distance.

Silence, except for the sputter and flicker of damaged lights, and the endless patter of drizzling rain. It fell on them as they sat without speaking, soaking their skin, plastering their hair to their heads. Xion’s body lay between them, and Roxas reached out and tugged the hood further down over what should have been its forehead, so that the rain would not pool at the back of the hood and discomfort this dead thing that could not feel. He had to remind himself, looking into its faceless mask, that it had been her.

Neither of them said anything for a long time.

“So how long did you know?” Roxas finally asked. He stared at the puppet’s blank, featureless face. “When did they tell you to get rid of one of us?”

Roxas did not really want the answer, and Vexen did not provide it. He already thought he knew, anyway. Looking back it was easy to pick the moment: the day Vexen had called them into the lab and told them (sternly, but with an urgency only Xion had thought worrisome) that their frequent visits had to end, that being seen in his company so often was unwise for reasons he hadn’t been willing to give.

Reasons Roxas himself hadn’t cared about enough to investigate.

Roxas glared over at him, hoping he’d dare to speak so that he could shut him down with a snarl, but Vexen said nothing, and the sight of him sitting there struck Roxas with its strangeness. Sitting on the ground emphasized how tall and thin he was, and despite the rain he had his hood down; his head bowed against the rain made his lank, straw-colored hair cling to him messily, and the neon lights painted deep shadows in the hollows of his cheeks and beneath his large eyes. He resembled only superficially the arrogant, short-tempered, brilliant man whose lectures Roxas had listened to for hours. He just looked pathetic, and old.

When Vexen gingerly clambered to his feet, Roxas did the same. On the ground between them, the Replica template lay on its back.

“Roxas...What would you rather I have done?” His voice was weak. “Told them to destroy you instead?”

“I don’t know. But you could have done something. Anything.” A fact struck Roxas, hard and hot, like a weapon summoned to the ready in his hand. “You could have told us. We could have hid like Sora. We could have escaped.”

Vexen laughed, high and mirthless but too bitter to be cold.

“There is no escaping this Organization, Roxas. They’ll hunt you like an animal, and when you’re found, death will be a mercy. And even if you’d run earlier—what then? You would have perished. She would have absorbed every ounce of who you are.”

“At least she’d be here,” Roxas snapped. “She’d still be alive, and before it happened, I could have—” His voice cracked. “I could have said goodbye…”

He hadn’t said goodbye to Axel, either—not really, not the way he should have. Axel had been torn from him, and now Xion had been torn from him, and maybe this was what it meant to hurt, to have pieces of yourself ripped away bloodlessly with no scar to prove how deep it ached. A tear ran down his cheek, invisible amongst the rain already trickling down his face. Only the heat of it and the familiar taste of salt proved what it was. He reached up and wiped it away, setting his teeth against the sounds that wanted to claw out of his throat. It wouldn’t help. Nothing would.

Except, perhaps, for the obvious.

“Come with me,” Roxas said harshly.

“What?”

“You heard me.” Roxas wiped the last tears off of his face, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I’m leaving with Xion. Come with me and make her right again.”

“Roxas, we couldn’t…”

“You can fix her.” His voice hardened. “You took her apart, didn’t you? So you can put her together. Bring her back and make her just like she was.”

“I don’t think that’s possib—”

“Then try.” Roxas trembled, realizing his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “You have to try. Everything you can think of, for as long as it takes. Bring her back. That’s your job now.”

“The others would hunt us.”

“I don’t care.”

“And when they found us, we’d be—”

“I’ll deal with them.” Roxas stared up at the castle. “I’m not afraid of them. Any of them. Not even Xemnas.”

“Foolish boy.”

Roxas drew Oblivion out of thin air. Vexen cowered, but Roxas did not lunge forward and strike. He only pointed the weapon at him in warning, rain dripping off of its teeth into a puddle below.

“I’m not a fool,” Roxas said. “I just want Xion back. That’s all I care about.”

“Xion is gone.”

“No, she isn’t,” he said fiercely. “Not yet. As long as I keep remembering her, then she’s not gone. A part of her is still there, inside of me. They’re not gone until I forget.” Got it memorized? “She wasn’t just data. She had her own heart and everything. Even without Sora’s memories, she existed.”

He glared at Vexen, lowering the Keyblade.

“You can go back to the castle, or you can come with me. But I’m not staying here. I’m never coming back here again.”

Roxas turned away, pain tightening his chest as he knelt beside Xion’s empty template. As he considered how best to pick it up, however, a shadow fell across both himself and the template, the rain lessening as another, taller frame blocked it.

“Let me.”

Vexen knelt and scooped the template into his arms. A flash of protective fear bit into Roxas, making him want to snatch the puppet away before Vexen broke it yet further, but the small thing filled his arms much more easily than Roxas had been able to carry it across his back. Roxas warily watched Vexen adjust his grip on it, until the template hung in his arms almost delicately, as if Xion were alive and had only fallen asleep.

“So you’ll come?”

Vexen gave a shuddering sigh, making Xion’s coat rustle. This close Roxas noticed just how dark the circles under his eyes were, how yellow and papery his skin looked. His large eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept since he’d done it. A wave of something conflicting bubbled up inside of Roxas, too many things he had no name for that fought with each other for control of his words, equal parts disgust and pity and sadness commingled into some vile concoction that made him want to fight and cry at the same time.

“Why do you care now?” Roxas demanded. “Now all of a sudden she’s worth disobeying orders? Now she’s worth getting destroyed over? What’s different now that she’s gone?”

Vexen shuddered. Roxas waited for whatever excuse he would bleat out, but instead he gazed down at the limp, rain-soaked bundle in his arms, as if by staring at it hard enough, he might superimpose upon its blank face the smile that ought to be there.

“I didn’t think...it would hurt,” he said quietly. “Not like this.”

“Some genius you are.”

Vexen flinched, as though Roxas had hit him.

“I don’t understand...how I made something like her.” He adjusted his grip on the doll, so that its head nestled in the crook of his arm. “She had more light than I ever did. Even when I was whole.”

“She loved you,” said Roxas. “She didn’t know any better.”

Vexen made a strange, harsh noise that might have been a sob. Roxas kept a tight grip on Oblivion as he scanned around them for danger, his peripheral vision alive with sputtering lights that sometimes teased him with the threat of the glowing eyes of Heartless. There was nothing here, and yet that fact alone unnerved him. He felt exposed.

“So where should we go?” He hated himself for asking it—hated that he was so used to asking Vexen questions that he slipped into it instinctively. “Twilight Town?”

“No.”

“Then where?”

“Nowhere we’ve ever been.” Vexen looked up at the stars. “Any world the Organization has ever explored is off-limits. Reconnaissance data is what allows the lessers to navigate other worlds effectively. We must go elsewhere. Somewhere the Organization has never set foot.”

In his arms the Replica unit looked especially fragile, like a discarded toy. Roxas reached out and touched the top of its smooth bald head, remembering the texture of her hair, forcing his mind to impose a vision of it over the top of the template, as visions of Sora had imposed themselves upon him so many times before.

“Roxas, there is...something else you should know. About yourself.”

Roxas looked warily up at Vexen.

“I should have told you long ago. When I first suspected…” Vexen paused. “It shouldn’t be possible, but…you aren’t a Nobody any longer, Roxas. You’ve developed a heart. A true one.”

They looked at each other: Vexen carrying the empty template, Roxas’s blue eyes hard.

“I don’t care.” Roxas looked away. “I don’t even know what that means. All I care about...”

He reached out and brushed at Xion’s rain-slicked coat, clutching the fabric between his fingers before letting go, his hand falling away.

The sound of a portal of darkness forming in the nearby street made him alert, and instinctively he called the Keyblade, Oblivion appearing in his hand. But Riku had not returned, nor had anyone else in the Organization come to them. Vexen had created the portal, and moved towards it as Roxas’s grip on the Keyblade tightened. He looked from the portal up to Kingdom Hearts, and then up again at the Castle That Never Was.

“You’ll really leave it all behind?” he asked Vexen’s back, his tone a challenge. “All of your work? Your research?”

Vexen said nothing.

“You really don’t care about all of it anymore?” Roxas demanded. “Or are you just going to chicken out once you get sick of running?”

“I’m tired, Roxas.” Vexen did not turn to look at him. “All of my children are dead.”

The portal opened wider, blocking out the rest of the street, consuming the clashing neon lights. The darkness swallowed them both whole: the blonde man with the strange, lifeless doll, and the blonde boy with the strange, shining sword.

“Well, so much for the Replica Program kicking into high gear.” Xigbar didn’t seem to be speaking to Xemnas specifically; he rested his scarred cheek on his fist with an almost bored expression, his lone eye following the path of the rest of the empty thrones in the Round Room. With his other hand he made a dismissive sweep. “‘Our most promising project’…As if.”

“Patience.” Xemnas did not stir. “Those who abandon us flee only into the arms of destiny. None can play any role other than what Kingdom Hearts has chosen for them.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Xigbar straightened, looking up. “But if it’s Kingdom Hearts we’re talking about, we still gotta have Roxas. Or Sora, wherever he is. Heh…Seems like kids with Keyblades are pretty thin on the ground these days. Times sure do change…”

Xemnas’s half-lidded eyes flickered, but he did not otherwise react. Xigbar heaved a theatrical sigh and scratched his neck.

“Guess I’d better get going,” he announced. “Someone’s gotta start sweeping up this mess. You still want Roxas in one piece?”

“If possible.”

“And Frosty?”

Xemnas hesitated.

“I suppose his time has come. He was so useful for so long…A pity.”

“Well, you won’t hear me cryin’ about it.” Xigbar shrugged as darkness enveloped him, tendrils snaking around his limbs. “What a pain this turned out to be. Wheels inside of wheels, am I right?”

Xigbar disappeared in a swirl of black that stained the otherwise unbroken whiteness of the Round Room before dissolving. Xemnas was left alone. He closed his eyes, leaning against the high back of his throne, as if drinking in the silence.

“Their choices mean nothing,” he said softly, to no one. “The flow of time moves ever with us.”

Day 358: Three Again?

We’re going to get Xion back. Vexen will figure out a way. The three of us will have ice cream together again someday—I know it.

But we can’t stop running. Not now, not ever.