A/N: Hello!!! (dodges flying tomatoes) Okay, okay, I should be updating Depths of Oblivion, but I'm NOT. XD I seem to have picked an odd pairing... If it's possible for a pairing to be "stuck in my head," this one is... although 411 is still the best. X3
This and all of my KH fics are written in the same story-verse as Depths of Oblivion... heck, this even has vague spoilers for DoO. But nothing really important, so it doesn't matter.
Rating will most likely rise in later chapters. At present it is rated for blood and mild language.
1st Encounter- Footsteps
Footsteps were an unusual sound in Castle Oblivion. Why walk when one could open a dark path to their destination? It was pointless to walk for recreational purposes when fighting Heartless provided all the exercise one needed. Walking was done to give one time to think, to take a rest from the dismal half-life of a Nobody, or, in some cases, to stall the arrival at an unpleasant destination.
Now those footsteps sounded as a small figure ascended several flights of stairs, going unnecessarily slowly. He was not looking forward to this meeting at all.
The blue-eyed Nobody stopped before an ornate door, bracing himself. He lifted a hand and knocked twice before entering, without waiting for an answer. He had that right, at least. He wouldn't give his temporary superior any more power than he had to.
The owner of the room had been expecting him. He was sitting… or perhaps the proper term would be "lounging," he thought to himself, summoning up the memory of disgust… in a comfortable-looking chair, legs crossed elegantly, fingers folded in his lap.
"Zexion," he said. "You came. I'm touched."
"As you ordered," the one called Zexion replied stoically.
"And without the caveman, I see," the other added. Irritation briefly crossed Zexion's face.
"Number Eleven, you may be in control of this castle, but Lexaeus is still your superior, and mine. You will not speak of him that way."
Eleven smirked.
"Of course, Number Six." A reminder. A teasing prod. How deplorable. "You'll have to forgive me… I'd almost forgotten."
There was a long silence. Zexion narrowed his eyes.
"Was there any reason you summoned me, Marluxia?" he asked at last, breaking the pause. Or did you just want another chance to play Superior? he added silently, carefully resisting the urge to send that thought via his power. Marluxia tilted his head slightly, regarding him with one perfect eyebrow raised.
"I like to keep up with what my subordinates are doing," he said delicately, placing just enough emphasis on the degrading term to make Zexion bristle. He was grateful, for the moment at least, that he couldn't feel anger, or he would have had real trouble in suppressing his sneer.
"Lexaeus has been reinforcing the barriers to keep out unwelcome guests," he reported, as simply as possible. "We've grown… tired of Heartless bursting in at inconvenient moments." And that was supposed to be Axel's job. Typical. "Vexen has been making admirable progress in his work with replicas."
"And you?" Marluxia prompted, his eyes drilling into Zexion's. "Not inciting rebellion, are you?"
"I have been researching the importance of memories," Zexion said, his tone as icy as Vexen's when he was annoyed. "As the Superior ordered."
He got some satisfaction from seeing disappointment flit across Marluxia's face.
You wanted to order me around some more, didn't you? Bastard.
"Memories," Eleven said, his face regaining its naturally emotionless composure. "Interesting. Your own, I'd assume?"
"No," Zexion said flatly, frowning. Marluxia smiled, knowing he had touched a nerve. All of the original six were sensitive about their pasts, but none more so than Zexion.
"Why not?" he asked. "I'm sure you have some interesting memories. I would be glad of a chance to sift through them… seeing as I have been ordered to oversee everyone's work…"
"Don't test me, Marluxia," the Schemer snapped, his eyes locking with the other's. Marluxia's eyes widened and he flinched, feeling an alien presence in his mind.
Dark, hurt, blood—
"Zexion! Stop!"
"You wanted to sift through my memories," Six hissed.
There was a constant ache in his forearms. He could feel the IV drip and felt sick at the thought of it… he would never be able to stand needles, if he ever got out of here. He was burning with fever, whatever disease they had injected him with this time was taking its toll on him. They tried another vaccine, the needle jabbing mercilessly into his arm. This one will work, he promised himself.
He lay in the dark when they had all left for the night, just staring into the blackness. He could hear the low hum of the machines keeping him alive. When he dreamed, he dreamed of more darkness, and shadows.
In the morning, they would check his vital signs just to see if his body had given up yet… like so many did… It hadn't. His lung had developed an infection, but then, his lungs weren't doing any work, were they? The machines breathed for him now. All he was was a body to test their would-be vaccines on.
Sometimes, as he lies awake in the darkness, he can remember snatches of his life before the laboratory: green trees, blue water, a rainbow. Other boys. Small balls of light, no bigger than his fist, which made sounds like tinkling bells. Mermaids. Red-skinned, deep-voiced men. Pirates dressed in rags. A ticking crocodile.
He can't remember how he's gotten here. Every time he tried, his head hurt with the effort. He invented wild stories in his head, but none of them convinced him. He wanted to ask the lab men, but he had never been able to summon the will to speak to them, or to himself, at least out loud.
"Mama! Mama! Lia pushed Jean into the pond again and Ara won't help me catch her!"
He likes to imagine what he'd say to them, if he could. He hears them talking to each other and learns. He knows what he could say to make them angry, or sad, or guilty. If only he could…
"Ara, help Luc, please… I'm busy…"
"Yes, Mama…"
Even though he knew she was only pretending to be busy, she always insisted she wasn't blind, always said she didn't need him, her oldest son, here to help her. What would she do if he left?
"Never grow up, Ienzo, we'll never grow up!"
"Yes, Peter!"
"Ara, help me! Lia's climbed the apple tree!"
Pain, pain from another needle they pushed in.
Pain, he had tripped, fallen into the rose bushes.
Rescued. He was saved.
Elaeus, he said his name was Elaeus— "I can talk, listen to me, Elaeus, I can talk!" –They saved him…
Lia was always causing trouble, Jean and Luc were too nice to her just because she was the only girl…
"Master Ansem, we need a larger laboratory…" Xehanort wants one. "…if we are to continue…" Xehanort said so. I hate laboratories, I hate them…
"Don't stray into the forest, Lia, there are monsters there and I'd have to go in and save you." "Don't let the monsters get you." "Nobody who goes in there ever comes back."
Blood, dark, lab… had there been a mistake? The shadows were there, Elaeus had grabbed him, shielding him with his own body. He could see Braig lying nearby in a pool of blood, Dilan and Even in another, and it looked like Dilan had tried to shield Even too, but they were both gone now…
Lia, where is Lia, the monsters had taken her and the eyes were closing in, and Elaeus had fallen now and they were reaching for his heart and he screamed, and he would never see Peter or his mother or Ansem or Lia again and it was all lost—
"Zexion!" Marluxia screamed, as he finally wrenched himself from the tangle of memories, Ienzo's and Aramuil's mixed and pooled into one. His head hurt as though Lexaeus had pounded on it with his tomahawk. He was on his knees, although when he had fallen he didn't know. He was trembling violently, like he'd just had a near-drowning experience.
"Are you so eager to peruse my memories now?" Zexion asked softly. He appeared as calm as ever, unshaken, except for his visible eye, which had gone cold. "Now that you've experienced them? Now that I've experienced yours?"
Marluxia shook his head numbly. The corner of Zexion's lips curved up in a tiny smirk.
"Very good, Number Eleven," he said. He turned and, without another glance, left the master of Castle Oblivion on the floor, listening to the receding footsteps.
A/N: Okay, it was SO weird to write in three different tenses at once in the memories. D8
Since I am going to be continuing with this story, reviews are much appreciated!!! (hint hint)