Six of Hearts

Surprise

Ansem always prided himself on his innate ability to disconnect himself from any given situation completely. His cold, crimson-colored eyes had seen so many things: From horrible, gut-clenching death, to the beautiful, overwhelming beginnings of a new life, to the beauty and tragedy that unfolded each and every day in such a paradise as Radiant Garden. He had always, however, remained straight-faced, always business, always the crude scientist among a whirlwind of rampant emotions, locked tightly within himself as everyone around him seemed to be breaking down. He fancied himself an even-tempered man of science, taking everything the world hurled his way and turning it into something he could use, something he could study and pick apart. He was a brick wall, and he realized, chest fluttering with the inklings of pride, that no one could ever break his barriers down.

However, when Even came waltzing into his private lap one crisp autumn morning unannounced, pinch-faced and grumbling as a tiny, silver-haired child with large, innocent eyes that held such an immense sadness and fearing that were so artfully masked behind a placid frown and a curtain of unruly bangs, Ansem could literally feel the chilling gust of air rattle his lap coat as his icy disposition flew right out the window.

Dissection

Aeleus grimaced, tugging at the collar of his suit jacket as sweat beaded at his furrowed brow. He couldn't seem to pull his eyes from the mangled corpse before him, twinkling cherry red under the harsh laboratory lights as the sour scent of it tickled his nose hair unpleasantly. From the corner of his vision, he could see the tiny, lab-coat clad child working diligently, completely unaware of his internal struggle, too engrossed in running his blood stained scalpel through the glistening flesh of the body that lay limply on the glossy table in front of him. He adjusted his oversized goggles absentmindedly, ignoring Aeleus's horrified grunt as a few stray pieces of flesh and unnamed mucus stuck to the clear surface of the plastic.

"This is the swim bladder, you see Aeleus?"

Ienzo's angelic voice echoed in the empty lab as he pointed to a small, discolored organ within the corpse's dismembered body. The guard attempted to nod, but was overcome by a wave of nausea, opting to grumble the affirmative halfheartedly instead.

"It's controls it's buoyancy." The child explained, seemly unfazed by the disturbing scene and Aeleus's apparent weak stomach.

"You know, so it won't sink."

Aeleus cleared his throat nervously, eying the various dissection tools that lined the pristine surface of the operating table.

"Why a fish?"

He had asked as the young scientist pulled the gasping, struggling bluegill from the chilly pond water of the Research building's largest garden early that morning, clenching his fists uncomfortably as he witnessed the poor, innocent animal drowning in the morning air.

Perturbed by Ienzo's apparent lack of humanity as the child watching the fish's desperate struggle without the slightest concern, he had wondered, briefly, just what kind of adult such a child would grow into.

"Because Ansem won't let me watch the human dissection until I learn the anatomy of the other, less exciting, species."

The little scientist had answered bitterly, tightening his grip around the heaving throat of the dying fish. Aeleus wasn't quite sure he liked the sound of that, but opted to keep his mouth shut. Ienzo's eyes had been angry, and anger, albeit how negative, was more emotion than he had ever seen the child convey.

He tried to ignore the fishy smell that hung in the empty room like a polluted fog, and the sound of scissors snipping through crunchy scales as Ienzo worked.

"Would you like to see the brain?"

The child's tiny voice questioned passively.

Aeleus felt the bile rise in his throat.

Normal

"I don't think the brat's afraid of anything."

Braig drew out slowly, hoarse voice laced with its usual condescending jest.

"You'd think he didn't have a soul!"

Even rolled his eyes, exhaling noisily as he scribbled various notes into the think, leather-bound notebook that lay heavily on his lap as he attempted (in vain) to ignore the ridiculous musings of the castle guards.

"He has a point."

Dilan added, taking a drag from the cigarette that Even had already told him to put out three times that morning. ("It could damage valuable research!" The blonde had hollered, "And you know that we are forbidden to smoke in the break room, you imbecile!" Dilan, however, had been unfazed, blowing smoke rings toward the older man's back and smiling innocently each time the scientist sent an icy glare his way.)

"I mean, when has the kid ever seemed remotely interested in playing with anyone his own age? All he cares about is Ansem's research, and that sure as Hell isn't normal behavior for a kid."

Both guards shook their heads disdainfully as Even ran a shaky, aggravated hand through his faded gold hair.

"There's nothing wrong with Ienzo!"

He ground out grumpily.

"I was just like him when I was young!"

Braig and Dilan's resounding howls of laughter sounded less than convinced.

Mickey

Xehanort cocked a brow, closing his textbook softly as he eyed the silver haired child who sat across from him at the single long, cherry wood library table. The dry smell of aged parchment hung heavily in the air, melding with the lingering scent of Even's ever-present coffee and the musk and ash of Dilan's cigarette residue. The gentle afternoon light filtered through the large, open picture window behind him, bathing Ienzo and himself in an orange-colored light.

The younger scientist scribbled notes down leisurely, nibbling on the mangled, abused eraser of his pencil as he flipped through his own textbook. Xehanort squinted slightly, attempting to decipher the text on the spine of the book.

"What exactly are you reading, child?"

He spoke finally, realizing with an aggravated huff that he could figure out what the writing on the cover read.

Ienzo clicked his tongue, visibly agitated that the elder scientist had referred to him as a child.

"It's about mammals –mice, particularly."

He answered, detached. Then, mumbling irritably,

"They don't have the right vocal chords! They shouldn't be able to talk!"

Xehanort shook his head in confusion as Ienzo ranted, promising himself that he could never have children.

Fin.

My Zoology class dissects every other week. Last week we dissected fish, and next week we're dissecting frogs, then ducks, and rats… Then I'm off to Anatomy, where we dissect cow eyeballs and fetal pigs.

I think the defining moment was when I was directed to "insert the scissors into the fish's anus and cut toward the operculum."

So don't judge me for writing "Dissection"! I'm just as disturbed as you may or may not be! (Not really. I mostly just felt really guilty for violating a poor, innocent fish with those cold, unforgiving scissors…)

Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought!