Summary: When Demyx is inducted into the Organisation, Zexion is assigned the tedious task of studying him for purely 'scientific' reasons. The fact that he became infatuated with this specimen of Nobody was just coincidence. (Zemyx)
Disclaimer: Pft. Seriously. This is fanfiction. Forgive me for assuming that everyone knows that I hold no ownership. :P
Rant: Aww, I've always wanted to throw something like this on the net, and I would have done so in 'Twilight', but, eh heh, as you guys know, Zexion is kinda dead as it is over there. DX Goddamn Riku…
This has been written as a sort of documentary, and as such, Zexion will (attempt to) sound rather impartial and objective to Demyx. Mind you, I'm not particularly strong at writing serious characters,—much better at the confused and stubborn ones, heh :D—so we'll see how this turns out. ;D
Haha, speaking of stubborn characters, Demyx kinda went wild in here. D: I can't control him, seriously. :0 He completely took on his own character and won't do anything I want. XD How horrible. This is only chapter one… ::hysterical laugh:: My god, I can't write him consistently! ::pulls hair out::
Seriously, though. Humour me, guys. ONWARD!! Behold! The Zexion Reports!! ::shot:: XDD

Started: November 20, 2007.
Completed: November 20, 2007.
♪—Of Numbers and Nobodies
NUMBER? VI, Zexion
DATE? September 9th
DAY? Ø
♫ In the midst of our harvesting of our harvesting of Nobodies in hopes of recruiting more members into the Organisation, the Superior came across a most peculiar specimen. This Dusk in question has been inducted today as the new Number IX. However, as part of the Organisation's new regiment to ensure its preservation, it has been deemed appropriate by the Superior that one of the original six—that is, Xemnas, Xigbar, Xaldin, Vexen, Lexaeus, and myself—accompany the newly inducted so as to develop a study on the member. I, Number VI, Zexion, have been chosen for this task of "babysitting" Number IX, as Number II, Xigbar, put it. Although I must admit I am not thrilled with regards to this assignment, I am of the opinion that he, Number IX, is certainly less hazardous than the pupil assigned of Number IV, Vexen. I certainly would not desire the prospects of being nearby the caustic Number VIII, as he seems to possess skills in nothing more than annoyance…

Forgive me, for I have digressed.

In any case, I find that I have been most fortunate in my powers over the Lexicon. Because I do not want Number IX to feel as if he is being observed (his knowledge on the study may cause him to behave differently, thusly tampering with the data collected), I shall have the Lexicon record my thoughts on the subjects and assist in the tedious task of documenting the events of the time spent with Number IX. I will make my own conclusions and analyses later on upon the completion of the study. Until then, I leave the documentation solely up to the powers of the Lexicon.

VIrtuoso
(Study Sixty-Nine of the Lexicon)
An in-depth study on the mind and eccentricities of Number IX,
As observed and recorded by Number VI.

DAY? I
♫ Number IX will be coming into the library shortly to meet with me. According to the Superior, he has just finished a physical exam conducted by Number IV, Vexen. They have spent the better half of the week teaching Number IX how to walk properly. When they first found him, he was unable to walk or correctly operate his legs. Also, it has been discovered that he has an unfathomable fear of needles. Apparently there was a mishap down in the labs that resulted from some sort of practical joke on Number VIII's part. I imagine that neither Vexen nor Number IX is particularly happy with Number VIII.

The Superior has requested that Number IX and I not meet nor interact prior to the commencement of the study. I assume this is for the guarantee that the data collected for the file is unbiased by prior knowledge or sentiments. Though I will not say this to his face, I am greatly disappointed in the Superior for even suggesting that I would tamper with data in such a way. It is insulting to my integrity that he thinks so lowly of me. How dare he judge me. He himself has taken Number VII pupil, and, to my knowledge, has not even proceeded to dive into his paperwork on the matter.

The odour of putrid chemicals and the smell of something burning float through the air, signifying the approach of Vexen and Number VIII. I sniff the air again, this time finding a third scent. Unlike the obtrusive smells of Vexen and Number VIII, this one is rather mute…watered down, shall we say? It vaguely resembles the aroma of sea water, what with its slightly salty bite, but it still maintains a slight whiff of something more airy in nature—perhaps rainwater?

The three entered the library, Vexen leading with a rigid sort of stalk, practically breaking down the door in his apparent fury while Number VIII practically slinks in, his elfish face pulled into a wide grin befitting of the Cheshire Cat. Number IX slowly brings up the rear and closes the door silently behind him. I note, with some amusement, that he walks rather gingerly—very cautiously…as if he goes through an entire paradox of whether that one step is worth taking or not.

"Zexion," Vexen says through clenched teeth—he's probably annoyed that I didn't feel the need to rise from my seat. "I have conducted the physical exam, and I—"

"Seriously, he knows that already," Number VIII cuts in, rolling his green eyes in what is most likely exasperation. "The Superior already told us he'd notified him. Why the hell are you being such a stiff?" He suddenly pauses and makes a thoughtful face before stretching his grin to its limits. "Oh, wait," he says loudly. "You're not a stiff. You can't even get any."

I bite back a smirk as I watch Vexen's face contort in disgust as he eyes his pupil hatefully. Number VIII is the only one that can drive Vexen to such levels of anger, and, really, it's quite amusing to watch.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by Number VIII…"

Number VIII throws him a look of mock anguish.

"I have completed Number IX's physical exam and the general inquiry. Here is the file." He hands me a black folder inscribed with the silver label of 'NUMBER IX, DEMYX'. I take the folder and leaf through it, ignoring the blatant stare Number IX has focused on me.

I shut the folder and look up at Vexen with something akin to boredom. "Is that all?"

Vexen colours and spins around to leave, throwing the door open and storming back down the stairs. Number VIII watches his departure with a laugh before turning to Number IX.

"Hey, Demyx," he says loudly. "I'll see you around, eh? I gotta go follow him before he goes and spazzes on me again." He emphasizes this with a wave of his hands, eliciting a dry chuckle from Number IX. He then grins devilishly at me. "Don't poke him with any needles, Superior!" he sings as he bounds out the door, leaving a pale Number IX in my presence.

"Please take a seat," I say after a moment of watching him fidget in the corner. He quickly nods and slips into a seat at the opposite side of the oddly hexagonal table.

"I'm Myde—erm, I mean, Demyx," he says by means of introduction.

"I am Zexion. You may call me Number VI, and I will call you Number IX."

Number IX looks baffled. "I don't get it," he says. "First, you guys change your real names to weird anagrams, then you completely throw them aside and call each other by numbers? Why do it?"

I blink. "Why not?"

He lets out a sigh. "I think Axel is the only one who makes sense in this place," he says mournfully.

I snort. "Number VIII is a few gummis short of a ship."

"That's what he said about you and Vexen," Number IX replies deftly.

"That's Number IV, to you," I say uninterestedly, glancing back down at the dossier.

He shrugs and watches me carefully as I reopen his file and flip through the information, mentally recording it for my own study.

PSEUDONYM? Demyx
NUMBER? IX
SEX? Male
AGE? Seventeen
BIRTHDAY? February 13th
ORIGIN? Atlantica

I glance up at him, not surprised to find he's still staring blankly at me. "You were from Atlantica?" I ask.

Interestingly, his face brightens and he nods exuberantly. "Yup," he says. "I am part of Sebastian's orchestra!" he says proudly.

"Was," I correct him thoughtlessly, watching his face fall considerably.

"Yeah," he says gloomily, slumping slightly in his seat. "That's right. I was."

I watch him mutely for a brief moment before returning back to the information. "It says that you are seventeen?"

Number IX nods again. "That's right," he says again, looking even more dejected now. "I just made first chair in the string section, right? My mom was so proud of me," he mumbled, looking down at his gloved hands. "She was gonna get me a new sitar for my birthday…"

"A sitar?"

He nods. "Yeah, it's a—"

I wave him off. "Yes, yes. It is a plucked string instrument with a long, hollow neck and a gourd for a resonating chamber."

Number IX looks slightly impressed at this. "Yeah," he says, offering a small smile. "Y'know, not a lot of people know what a sitar is," he comments. "How did you know?"

I shrug. "I do a lot of research in my spare time."

He raises a sand-coloured eyebrow. "On string instruments?" he asks incredulously.

"No, just in general," I reply.

"Oh…" He gives me a long look, which I ignore and continue skimming through the records.

"It says here that you have never taken arms or studied any type of combat," I say, feeling immensely perturbed by this information.

Number IX shrugs. "It's true. We don't believe in war on my world. We celebrate and treasure life." He frowns. "I don't think I've ever seen people do much more than argue."

I give him a surprised look. "You have never fought a Nobody?"

"No."

"Heartless?"

"No."

"Human?"

He gives me a perplexed look. "They exist?! I thought those were just stories the adults made to keep us from being stupid up near the surface…"

Ah. "I take it that you were one of the merpeople?"

He laughs a strange, musical laugh. "Well, duh!" he says.

I nod in understanding. That explains why he was unable to walk when he was first found. But still…unable to fight? I can't imagine why the Superior still wants him in here… That factor makes him seem rather useless…

"So, what am I now?" he asks suddenly, tapping his feet on the ground obnoxiously. "Am I a human?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Hasn't anyone told you?"

Number IX shakes his head dolefully. "Axel—"

"Number VIII," I correct him.

"Yeah, right. He tried to explain it to me, but he got all confused. So, he tried getting Vexen—"

"Number IV," I correct him again.

He rolls his aqua-coloured eyes. "Whatever. Anyway, Axel asked Vexen to explain to me what we are, but Vexen got all pissed at him and said that you explain it to me," he drawls, putting stress on the names—he probably figures it will annoy me. (Which it doesn't. It is just common courtesy and respect.)

"So, tell me, great Zexion,—oops, that's 'Number VI,' right?—what are we?" Number IX asks drolly, making erratic hand gestures.

I wait for him to be serious before finally giving in and providing him with some clarification.

"We are Nobodies," I begin. "You see, Number IX, Nobodies are—"

"Well, geez," Number IX says sarcastically. "I knew no one really cared about me, but to say that I'm a nobody? That's harsh, Zex. That's really harsh."

"Don't call me 'Zex,'" I clip. "It's demeaning."

"Riiiight," Number IX drawls. "Because being called by a number is just so impressive."

I sigh. Wonderful. Just wonderful. I've gotten a bipolar one. Really, how did he go from oblivious and depressed to sardonic all at once? Such behaviour is that which I'd expect from Number VIII.

"No, seriously," Number IX sits up and leans forward, all mockery having vanished from his voice. "What do you mean, we're Nobodies?"

I sigh again and close the file. Bipolar, indeed. I wonder, is this the Superior's idea of a joke?

"I'll give you the explanation in laymen's terms," I mumble, ignoring his disgruntled expression. "A Nobody," I begin again, "is one of the by-products in the creation of a Heartless. You see, when a being loses its heart, the ripped heart and all the darkness within it manifest into its own being—a Heartless. Do you follow?"

Number IX nods slowly. "I think so."

"Good. I would rather not have to repeat myself, you see."

He scowls. "I'd hate to place that upon you," he huffs, crossing his arms. He makes a jerky movement with his head, as if saying 'get on with it.'

What a moody child. It's rather sad, actually.

"The body—or what remains of it—and the mind are then fused together in a sort of mockery of a living being. One without the capacity of emotions and love," I say shortly.

Number IX looks abashed. "And that's what we are?"

I simply nod in response. My, he looks distraught. "That is what a Nobody is. We are breathing, soulless dolls."

Perhaps 'soulless dolls' was too heavy of a description. Number IX looks close to panicking—and possibly vomiting. Perhaps I should call Vexen up…

"You're kidding, 'soulless'?" Number IX looks at his hands in dismay. "But I don't feel any different…!"

I give him a condescending look. "That is because you can't feel, Number IX," I tell him quite plainly. I tell him this with the intention of being reassuring, but, oddly, he only looks only more horrified at this.

"How can that be?" he asks me, eyes wide. "I… I…" He covers his eyes with his hands and shakes his head from side to side. "Everything was fine, yesterday! What happened? My God…"

I stare at him silently, just letting him vent his frustration.

"We were getting ready for the concert …heh, I'd been practicing all night—Mom got so mad at me… I'd just finished tuning up when this…this thing suddenly swam into the concert hall, and…" He shakes his head. "God…" He drops his hands and looks up at the high ceilings, expression curiously blank. "We didn't stand a chance, did we?"

I don't answer.

Number IX lets out a humourless bark of laughter. "No. We really didn't," he mutters to himself. He covers his eyes again and slumps on the table. "Hey, Zexion—"

"Number VI," I correct automatically.

Number IX laughs softly and peeks at me from between his fingers. "Do you seriously believe that we are incapable of feeling and all that?"

I nod. "It is what a number of years of scientific experimentation and study have come to—"

"Oh, shut up. Science doesn't prove everything," he mumbles, closing his fingers and blocking me out again. "It's just a way of coming up with semi-plausible reasoning and justifying stupidity."

I feel just a little annoyed by this, but I decide not to make any mention of the fact that I am a scientist myself.

"Besides," he continues, "how can science prove anything about a person's feelings?" he asks sharply. He sighs. "Life is a lot easier without people trying to dissect it."

I open my mouth to argue, but no words escape my lips. Because there is nothing I can say to deny his claim. It's true. Life was much easier before I became one of Ansem the Wise's apprentices. It was so blissfully easy.

"Zexion," Number IX murmurs idly, "why is life so difficult?"

We lapse into an uncomfortable silence.

♫ We spend a good hour just sitting in that library, talking about nothing before we are disturbed. I cannot deny that I am incredibly relieved when Number VII (he practically stinks of wet grass and snow) interrupts our void conversation with the message that the Superior wishes to speak to him.

Number IX nods mutely and follows Number VII out with a lurch befitting of a zombie. I, meanwhile, take to my room for a short nap.

♫ An obnoxiously loud thudding disturbs me, and I blink the sleep out of my eyes. The hammering gets louder, and I groan in annoyance, staggering towards the door. As I get closer, the smell of dancing flames gets stronger and I can't help but sigh.

"What is it, Number VIII?" I ask drowsily as I open the door a crack. I rub at my eyes, barely stifling a yawn. When I glance up at Number VIII, my mouth nearly drops open in shock. Number VIII's normally laughing emerald eyes are smouldering with what can only be described as irritation.

"What is it?" I ask immediately, straightening my posture.

Number VIII's eyes narrow. "The Superior screwed with Demyx's head," he snaps.

I wrinkle my nose. "What else is new?" I mutter through gritted teeth. "The Superior is an enigmatic man…" I say languidly.

Number VIII glares at me. "His shit-talk landed Demyx in his room—the guy hasn't left in over an hour."

"So? What do you expect me to do?"

A vein throbs in Number VIII's forehead. "I'm saying, why don't you go get him out?!"

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow at him in bored disbelief. "And, why would I want to do that?" I ask him dryly.

Number VIII gives me an obvious look. "Well, you're the guy observing him, aren't you? Shouldn't you, like, I dunno…be watching his state of mind or something?"

I blink. Well. This was unexpected.

"What makes you think that?" I ask slowly.

He makes a jerky shrug. "It's kind of obvious. I mean, first off, it's clear that you Superiors have started watching us on an individual basis, and seeing as my old fart of a babysitter had us take Demyx to you, it only makes sense—" he cuts himself off abruptly and glares at me. "Hey!" he says loudly. "Why are you still here?! Go check up on Demyx!"

I roll my eyes and hurry over to where Number IX's dormitory is located. His room is located in one of the higher towers overlooking the bleak view of the city. I head over to the door and sigh wearily before knocking. No answer.

I knock again on the door of Number IX's door. "Number IX," I say sharply, rapping on the door. "Come out of there. This is highly uncouth."

"Go away!" is the very intelligent and mature response I get, slightly muffled through the door.

I scowl and glare at the door. "Number IX!" I bark. "This is your superior speaking. You are to come out of there right now."

"Screw you!" he shouts from inside. "I never agreed to be a part of this stupid Organisation! Therefore, you're not my superior or anything, Zexion!"

My hands ball into fists. "That's Number VI!" I shout back.

There's an eruption of sardonic laughing from inside the room, and I feel the impending migraine lash out at my skull. I pinch the bridge of my nose in an attempt to stifle it.

"I am not leaving until you leave that room, Number IX!" I snarl at the closed door, seating myself against the wall opposite of the door.

"That's Myde!"

♫ I have been sitting outside Number IX's room for over two hours. I've discovered that he is a complete contradiction to the definition of a Nobody. Even though he has no heart, he still is incredibly emotional and turbulent.

(Mind you, this does not count Number VIII, even though he has enough emotions and fury for the entire population of Nobodies put together. He is more of a subspecies of Nobody than anything else.)

Regarding Number IX, though… Well…it's almost…refreshing to see a Nobody who hasn't surrendered to his nature.

It's also rather sad to see someone so deeply imbedded in his own denial.

♫ It's been five hours, now. Number IX still hasn't made any effort to come out of his room, and I myself am getting sleepy again.

I slowly get to my feet and knock carefully on the door. "Number IX," I say softly. "This is ridiculous. Even if you do not wish it, you are still a Nobody, and you will have to accept that. There's nothing else that can be done. The only way to help yourself is to understand."

The door gradually creaks open, and I can see Number IX's bloodshot eyes through the gap. "Zexion," he hiccups, "I don't want to be part of the Organisation."

I stare at him blankly, not saying anything.

The door opens a little more. "I spoke with your leader," he murmurs. "He…he said that you guys wanted to increase the number of Nobodies in order to strengthen the Organisation…"

"That's right."

Number IX throws the door open. "'That's right'?!" he shrieks. "That's all you have to say?! 'That's right'?!" He grabs me by my shoulders and throttles me, tears pouring from his eyes. "You jackass! Increasing the population of Nobodies means increasing the population of Heartless! Don't you get what this means?! They want to kill people!! Thousands of people!" He slumps down to his knees, bawling his eyes out.

I kneel down to his level, because it seems like the right thing to do. And I must be right, because Number IX then proceeds to cry on my shoulder.

"Zexion, Zexion," he moans, "I don't wanna kill people… I don't want to hurt anyone! No one should have to suffer the same fate as us…" And he cries. And cries. And cries.

And I just let him.

"Zexion, why did this happen to us?" he sobs.

I look down at him, not quite sure what to say.

"Zexion…why?"

I sigh and awkwardly put an arm around him, again, because it seems like the right thing to do. "Because, Number IX," I say quietly, "it had to happen to someone."

"Why?"

I swallow. "I don't know."

Because…really… Number IX is right about science. It really doesn't prove anything that really matters. Science is a definitive subject that can only yield to limited answers. Humans—and especially hearts—are anything but limited and predictable. How on earth does science prove a heart's existence?

As I pat Number IX in what I hope is a comforting way, a strange thought comes upon me: Number IX's belief is plausible. How on earth did we exactly justify that we do not have hearts?

God…

For people who spend their entire lives studying the eccentricities of humans and their emotions, we understand so little. Number IX really is so much wiser than us.

The Afterword: Umm…yeaaahhhh… This turned out really oddly. DX God. Maybe I'll just drop this right now…

Guh. Anyways, give me some feedback, and if enough people like it, I'll continue it. (Dude, please, I really like the idea… I just don't like what this first chapter looks like XD )