A/n: Well hello there, everyone! I'm sorry it's been so long. If you'd believe me, I've really had no time to write and publish a ton of fanfiction since school started back in like August. That actually was when this story was written. And I apologize in advance for the vague, vague storyline. Even I don't know what's going on sometimes. i just do what the Xemnasy voice in my head tells me. :D

...and yes, this will be multichaptered. Hahaha.

KH belongs to Nomura, I own nothing, and so without further ado, I present the fiction!!


When Xemnas was left to his own bleak devices, he talked to himself. He would walk the empty hallways mumbling to no-one. Xehanort had been like that before all of this as well, waking in the middle of the night and walking around the castle, holding a candle and talking to himself. Braig had thought it funny – at least funnier than what happened when Ienzo would wake unexpectedly. Xehanort wouldn't notice Braig sitting there watching, and he knew nothing of it the next morning when Braig asked him. Ansem said it was sleepwalking. His students thought otherwise.

The first week of nonexistence had been horribly difficult to adjust to. Xaldin and Lexaeus and Xigbar were mostly unaffected, only slightly changed and somehow altered, like Elaeus, was your hair always so red? The three of them were the best at keeping their senses about them, and unfortunately that meant that they had to deal with the other three new Nobodies, who were completely hopeless.

Ienzo's sensitivities had come back to Zexion; he ran up the stairs to the towers of the castle and refused to come out, but Lexaeus had coaxed him down with a quiet voice and little contact. Zexion would squirm at the slightest touch, covering his ears and eyes and not having enough hands to cover his nose, which had become the most bothersome. "You can smell the darkness here." He muttered against the tattered blankets Lexaeus had found. Lexaeus nodded lightly, lying, and whispered in his mind, I know, I know.

Vexen seemed to become far more tired than before, sometimes nodding off in the middle of meetings or conversations. Once he nearly fell out of his chair, nearly plummeted to the ground, if it had not been for Xigbar's quick actions. The castle was an unkind place for the unprepared. And Vexen was unprepared for the hazy staircase on the third floor.

Xehanort's emotions ran amok. He hadn't spoken for the first day (or, at least one revolution of the hours, according to Lexaeus's watch, which had survived the fall.). He was listless as a porcelain doll, half-there, only sixteen years old and already dead.

Finally, he spoke, "What are we?" the words settled and fell on the boys like snowflakes, melting quickly, turning the others colder; no one said a word. They looked at one another unable to answer without denying their own existence. They had died – hadn't they? How could they have survived all of that without leaving their souls behind? Xehanort looked desperately at his once-companions. His face fell and he began to sniffle. There began a cycle of raging emotions, from sorrow to ecstatic joy, to anger. Once, in a fit of blind rage, he nearly strangled Zexion, and after that Xemnas was locked in his room, and there he would cry and scream and fall asleep and wake and cry again.

After two days of this, he'd tried the door and found it locked.

"Ienzo." He called weakly through the lock, "Dilan, Braig, where are you?" There was no answer. "Lexaeus…Vexen, where are you?" Again, no response. "Where are you? Don't leave me alone" the shadows on the streets below worried him. "Where did you go?" he fell to his knees at the door "I'm sorry" he whispered although he didn't really feel any remorse. He felt what little strength he had left leave him as he found himself drawing closer and closer to the floor. It felt cool and smooth and oddly familiar, and he soon fell into the almost-comforting arms of unconsciousness.

Lexaeus unlocked the door later that evening to bring Xehanort some soup he'd found earlier that day. (He was beginning to realize that this was a very bizarre city they'd landed in - at least, he supposed that it was a city, though black fog prevented most of it from being seen - he and Zexion had found an abandoned shop nearby, and they had carried back as many non-perishable foodstuffs as they could hold. Zexion, being logical as always, had asked why they would eat food that had obviously been abandoned, but Lexaeus had no response for that. The soup had tasted like the tin cans that had held it, but Zexion sensed no poisons in it and reluctantly ate.)

Something was in the way of the door. Lexaeus pushed it open, forcing the obstacle out of the way. To his shock, the obstacle was Xehanort. He gave in to panic – earlier, Vexen had nonchalantly asked if it would matter at this point if he were to kill himself, Xaldin rushed over to hold him and forbade it…though he too had contemplated that possibility - Xehanort wasn't moving.

Xehanort was a little pale and mostly unconscious, but alive nonetheless. Lexaeus was not sure whether to be relieved or worried, but he picked the boy up off the ground and carried him across the room to his bed. He set the bowl of soup on a table near the bed and he left.

Far below them, the Heartless danced and danced.


Aaaaalrighty, then? Reviews would be very, very nice - whatever you think, whether or not you like it, I appreciate any opinions, because I'd like to see how much else of this I should post (I've got a lot of this, but most of it is bleh-weird-whytheheckdidIwritethis kinda stuff. And they would make me a bit more inspired to get the next part up here.

I'm definitely going to put up a second chapter of this, though. It's kind of where the story begins. But you know. Background information and such...

And if you're confused by my wayward storyline, feel free to ask any questions. Thanks!