Novelette sequel to my first oneshot, Lies Upon Lies. It's more of a backstory than anything, since the plot isn't really moving forward, but I hope you like it anyhow

EDIT: I have proofread this story, too! Hallelujah!

Irreversible

Vanitas wasn't thinking about much at all until he broke the toaster.

Obviously he didn't mean to snap the push lever clean from the device itself on purpose—he just never had any experience with such mundane household objects. This was probably the first time he'd even seen a toaster in person, not to mention all other household appliances. That wasn't his fault either, because he had been held captive by an evil criminal organization for most of his life. Why would they ever bother with giving him a crash course on such things when the most important thing to learn was holding on after being tortured by the skin of his teeth?

Thus the toaster wasn't the first time he'd broken something in this apartment since he'd been brought here. He'd managed to disable the microwave and cause a blackout his very first day here. Not to mention he killed the DVD player in the living room by messing up all the wires that connected to the back the next day. At that point, he decided that he should just stay away from any technical appliances in the place to avoid crippling it somehow. He didn't want Ventus to think he was ungrateful.

That thought reminded him that Ventus was returning today. Today was Monday, the day that he would be released from the hospital and finally allowed to come home. In fact, who Vanitas assumed to be Ventus's right-hand officer—Zack Fair, if he remembered right—had gone to pick him up earlier this morning. Vanitas couldn't believe that fact had slipped his mind completely. Zack had even paid him a visit before going on his way.

There was a sudden rapping at the apartment door. Vanitas left his place on the couch and went to open it, where Officer Fair was waiting.

"Officer?" Vanitas noted in surprise. "What brings you here so early?"

"Just thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing," the young man answered amiably. "You didn't break anything yet today, did you?"

The black-haired man looked away. He didn't have to be reminded of that. "Of course not."

"That's good, because I don't want to owe Agent Reed any more than I already do. Not to mention I don't want him throwing a fit on his first day back. You know how uptight he can get."

It took a moment for Vanitas to process, but he then realized what the cop was saying. "He's coming back today? I thought he wasn't supposed to be let out until—"

"Monday," Zack finished for him. "Today's Monday. Or did you not keep track?"

Vanitas blinked. He had forgotten to keep track of the days. He'd spent way too much of his time being paranoid as all hell, worrying about whether C.L.O.U.D. would find him here. "I guess I've just been preoccupied the past couple days."

"Well, don't blame you. Any fugitive would be fidgety after escaping his lifelong prison, right?"

Vanitas didn't reply.

"Well, anyway, I'm going to go and pick him up," Zack continued. "I'll be back around half an hour, so sit tight and try to relax. You're going to need it for the conversation you two are gonna have today."

"Right." Vanitas tightened his hand on the brass doorknob as he struggled to keep his expression from changing. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Okay, I'll be going then. See you in a few." Zack turned and paced to the elevator. Vanitas closed the door shut, his fingers locked around the doorknob.

Vanitas set the now-useless toaster down onto the marble counter and stared at it.

That's right, he thought. How could I have forgotten about that?

Ventus had something to tell him today, something he'd addressed back on Saturday when the two met for the first time. He'd said that it would be confidential, just between the two of them. Vanitas wasn't really the type to care much about such things, but he wondered just what the young detective wanted him to hear. It must've been important; why else would he impart such information to a complete stranger? No sane man would do that, not if he wanted to live for much longer, unless he had good reason.

Absentmindedly, Vanitas glanced at the digital clock perched precariously on the flat-screen in the living room. 9:21, it read. Zack had stopped by ten minutes before nine. He'd be back with Ventus any minute now. There really wasn't enough time to prepare himself for the discussion that would inevitably come. And there was no point hiding the broken toaster, either—he really didn't know what to do with it, anyway.

There was the sudden distinct sound of a doorknob being turned, and Vanitas flinched and snapped his head around to face the brown door, which swung open to reveal Ventus. He looked pretty casual for someone who'd just come out of the hospital recovering from a gunshot wound—an olive-green polo shirt with plain jeans. But then again, Vanitas thought, it was pretty stupid of him to expect the young blonde in any other attire.

That was when Ventus had felt Vanitas's gaze. For a minute the two did nothing but stare at each other from their respective positions—Ventus at the door, one hand resting on the doorknob, and Vanitas standing next to the now-useless toaster, holding the broken push lever in his hand. Then Ventus flicked his gaze to the broken lever in Vanitas's grip.

"Hey," the detective said at last, a curious grin playing along the edge of his lips. "Seems like you broke my toaster."

Vanitas wasn't sure what to say to this. Did conversations normally start this way? "Uh…yeah. Sorry about that…" He set the severed lever on the counter next to the toaster. "Um, why are you smiling? I just broke something of yours for the third time. Your right-hand cop said that you'd throw a fit over this."

The young detective blinked. Then he chuckled, shutting the apartment door behind him as he did so. "Zack told you that? Well, I guess I would have…on normal occasions."

This amiable behavior threw Vanitas off somehow. It had only been a couple days since they'd first seen each other and discussed the fact that his brother was the pawn of some evil syndicate being forced to murder people. He'd expected Ventus to appear more…grim, at least. But to outright laugh? He didn't get it.

"So…you're not upset," Vanitas ventured.

"No. I'm more amused than anything," Ventus confirmed, still grinning. "How ironic. The last thing you break before I come back is my toaster, of all things. Fate has a strange way of working, if you ask me."

"What are you talking about?" Vanitas grew increasingly perplexed. "How does my disabling a toaster go in the same sentence as the weird workings of fate?"

Ventus whistled. "And they tell me that I'm the uptight one. But I suppose you wouldn't get it since you don't know the story. And I can say that you two must really not like toast."

Vanitas sighed irritably. "Would you please address the point directly for a change?" he grumbled.

"Sorry." Ventus's expression suddenly became wistful. "It just reminds me of that Friday morning ten days ago, before this entire fiasco started. Or at least before it came to my attention. Sora invited me over that morning, and I walked into the apartment and was greeted with him beating up his toaster with a spatula."

Vanitas's face went slack. "Sora was beating up his toaster," he repeated, his deadpan voice tinted with a smidge of disbelief, "with a spatula."

Whatever expression was on Vanitas's face, it must've been good because it got another chuckle out of the detective. "Well, at the time, Sora was just being Sora."

"Naturally."

"Granted, he didn't break the toaster, per se, see; he was trying to fix it. The push lever got stuck because of a jammed toothpick. He didn't manage to pry off the lever completely from the toaster itself, though." He gave a very pointed glance to the broken lever on the counter next to Vanitas.

"Listen, that's not what we're really supposed to be talking about," Vanitas muttered, his cheeks burning. Dear God, was he embarrassed? What was wrong with him?

Ventus rested a hand on his hip, scratching his chin in embarrassment. "Sorry about that," he apologized again. "I'm not too good with people."

How the hell did you become a chief detective two years after leaving university if that's the case? Vanitas thought to himself furiously.

"But still…" Vanitas noticed that some of the laughter was dying out in the detective's eyes. "You've got a point. We do have a more pressing matter at hand…I'm pretty sure I'm not mistaken."

"No," Vanitas agreed, his previous sense of embarrassment fading away. Finally, a topic on which he could speak freely…as freely as his sense of secrecy allowed.

Ventus sighed resignedly. "All right." He gestured to the mahogany couches to his left. "Have a seat then, so we can talk comfortably."

Vanitas moved stiff-legged into the living room and lowered himself into the closest couch—a two-seater. The soft velvet tickled the palm of his hand as he placed it on the armrest. Ventus himself was moving toward the kitchen.

"Would you like anything to drink?" he asked over his shoulder, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen. "Tea or coffee?"

Vanitas shook his head. "I won't drink anything if I don't know what it is."

The blonde man wheeled to face him, shock on his face. "You don't—" He paused abruptly, and then promptly flicked his gaze down to the gray carpeting at his feet, clearing his throat as he did so. "I…I see."

Vanitas normally hated being on the receiving end of sympathy. It didn't matter whose face it was on—any expression with traces of it would downright irritate him to no end, like he'd been some abandoned puppy tossed to the side of the road and forced to live on leftover garbage to survive without knowing the pleasure of a loving home and family. Granted, that was basically what most of his life had been like, but he didn't want or need anyone's pity. What good had that done him in his miserable life? Ever?

But for some odd reason, he didn't feel angry at the sight of Ventus's face. He didn't know if it had been intentional, but there had been a flash of something in the detective's countenance that indicated to Vanitas that he'd been through similar situations, though he couldn't imagine how. He had it going for him, seeing as he lived in a luxury condo, had a well-paying job, and had managed to afford his education on his own. Vanitas couldn't deny feeling at least a little bitter towards his success.

However, Vanitas could see it in those unblemished sapphire eyes—it definitely hadn't been easy getting here. There was a wild look in them as well, like Ventus himself had been forced to make it on his own in the past. Vanitas didn't know how, but…it was clear that Ventus had a good idea of what he'd gone through, even if he didn't realize that that was the case.

"Don't worry about it." Vanitas drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. "I'm good."

Ventus continued to hesitate. "You're sure?"

"I told you; I'm fine." Vanitas waved him away with his scarred hand as he managed a grin. "Just go and get your damn tea."

The blonde agent looked momentarily stunned, but then he gave a small smile in response before disappearing into the kitchen.

Vanitas felt his false grin slip away and once again return to a frown as his thoughts continued to move. Was there more to Ventus Reed than this successful life showed? Something in his past that molded him into what he was now? It had to be the case; that was the reason Sora was the way he was now, as was Vanitas himself.

He didn't mean to, but he let his brain dredge up a memory from many years ago—back to several years before C.L.O.U.D. came and turned their already ruined lives upside down.

"Van," Sora whispered. "I'm cold."

Only his younger brother would call him that. He was only five; he couldn't pronounce long names right. Normally he would get mad and correct him no matter how futile it was. But right now he didn't have the energy.

And of course Sora was cold. It was the middle of winter, for goodness' sake. The two of them were huddled together in the depths of a local park that Vanitas hadn't bothered to learn the name of. It wasn't too big of a park, but more than half of the property was concrete, trails winding around what greenery there was. It wasn't much more than a couple trees scattered here and there, and an assortment of bushes lining the borders of the park. There was a huge fountain in the middle, simple in design yet easily thirteen feet tall, but since it was dark out now the water wasn't running. It was underneath this structure in which the brothers sheltered themselves from the biting snow—all the other buildings in the area were either lacking in overhangs or closed off, and they certainly couldn't go back home . Not after tonight.

Vanitas scooted closer to his little brother and took off his winter jacket, which he covered Sora with. That would at least lessen the sharp biting sensation that came from the cold air on his skin. Now he was sitting in the cold with a red long-sleeve shirt and jeans.

"There," Vanitas said, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering. "Stay under that."

"But what about you, Van? Aren't you cold?" Sora sounded frightened. Whether from their recent ordeal or from whatever look was on Vanitas's face right now, Vanitas didn't know.

No, I'm just peachy, Vanitas thought sourly. This freezing cold is just perfect for me.

But he couldn't afford to show any weakness in front of him.

"I'm okay." He held his brother close to him. The brisk night air chilled his bones, and the frigid snow didn't help either, even if there wasn't much of it. "I was getting hot in the jacket anyway. You keep it."

Sure, people said that they felt sorry for the kids out on the streets, but they didn't try to do anything to fix that. They left them out there in bad weather. No one gave them food to eat. No one even called the orphanage on them so at least they wouldn't be living on their own, but that was one thing Vanitas was actually grateful for. If that happened, he could be separated from Sora. He couldn't afford that.

The frightened look in Sora's eyes died down some, but wasn't completely gone. He bit his lip, obviously thinking hard about something. Then he suddenly crawled into Vanitas's lap with the jacket still clinging to his shoulders.

Vanitas was so surprised that he almost pushed Sora off. "Hey, that hurts!"

Sora ignored him, positioning himself in a way that both of them were covered by the jacket. He laid his head on Vanitas's chest as he snuggled close.

"There. Now we're both warm." Sora said this pointedly, as if saying one plus one equaled two.

It was true—his body warmed up slightly thanks to the article of clothing. Vanitas felt the body heat trapped beneath the jacket, warming them up even more. They still felt the cold, but at least they weren't freezing anymore.

Vanitas didn't say anything for a while, prompting his younger sibling to shift slightly in position and look up at his face. "You're warm now, right?"

Vanitas almost laughed. He sounded so endearing.

"Thanks, Sora," he said as he patted his brother's messy brown hair like he was a little puppy. "Yep. I'm warm now."

"Good." Sora was silent for a minute or two before speaking. "Van?"

Vanitas looked down. Sora was facing away from him, to his right. "Yeah?" he prompted.

"When are Mom and Dad gonna find us? They're gonna come and take us home after they wake up soon, right?"

Vanitas's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't expected this question. He was reluctant to answer. He knew he shouldn't have lied to Sora—he was too innocent to realize that their parents weren't coming back to get them. Not ever.

Vanitas went on for so long without speaking that Sora lifted himself up from Vanitas's chest and stared into his face in concern. "Van?"

Vanitas whipped his head around so he wouldn't have to see Sora's innocent, oblivious eyes. He opened his mouth, but his voice sounded as if something was stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry, Sora…they won't be coming to get us."

"Tomorrow ?" Sora persisted. "They'll come get us tomorrow?"

"No." Vanitas ground his teeth together to keep from crying. "Not tomorrow, either."

"Then when? When are they coming, Van?"

"They're not gonna come, ever," he whispered. "They're never gonna come."

"You're lying!" Sora cried, grabbing his elder brother's shoulders. "You're lying to me! They will too come! They will—they'll wake up and come here! They'll take us home!"

"No, they won't," Vanitas muttered in a low voice. "They won't come. They're not going to wake up, ever. They're dead, Sora. Dead."

Sora's eyes widened in horror. He slowly raised his hands from Vanitas's shoulders and let them drop to his sides.

"Dead?" Sora repeated, his voice trembling. His expression was so broken Vanitas almost instantly regretted telling him the truth. "Mom and Dad are…dead? But you said—you said they were only sleeping! You said they would wake up when they feel better!"

"I was lying, you idiot. They'll never get better, and they'll never wake up."

"You lied to me!" Sora screamed again, pounding his brother's chest with his small fists. "Lying is bad! Dad said so! He said we would get in big trouble if we lie!"

Vanitas didn't bother to answer, letting Sora punch his chest over and over. He was too numb to feel the pain, anyway.

What did it matter if he lied now? His dad wasn't there to punish him for doing so. And he'd only lied to keep Sora from breaking down…like right now. Not that he would understand.

After several minutes had passed, Sora finally tired of slugging him. His fist rested on Vanitas's ribcage where he'd last hit him and he stayed that way for a heartbeat. Then he burst into tears—very noisy tears. Vanitas wanted to do something to help, but figured that Sora would only reject his offers of help at this point—that's what he did when he was mad at someone.

"Van is a liar!" Sora shouted through his sobbing. "You're gonna be in big trouble soon!"

Vanitas grimaced at the memory before pushing it aside. Only later did he realize how understated that remark had been.

"Here."

Vanitas looked up. Ventus had set down a cup of water on the table in front of him and was now sitting opposite him on the second two-seater couch, sipping a mug holding a steaming liquid. The liquid was dark, so Vanitas assumed it was coffee.

"Thanks, but…I said I didn't want anything," Vanitas said, hoping he didn't sound as if he had no tact. He appreciated the gesture and everything, but he'd specifically said that he was fine without a drink, and here the detective had gotten a cup of water for him anyway. Was he just toying with him now?

"I know," Ventus replied, setting down his own cup, "but I figured that you'd probably at least want something to drink. It looks like you need it, too."

"What?"

"Well, judging from your expression, I assumed you were thinking some pretty heavy thoughts. I thought you might benefit from a cold drink."

Vanitas winced inwardly. "It was that obvious, huh?"

"No, not really." Vanitas strongly suspected that Ventus was only saying that to placate him. "I mean, I'm a detective. I'm supposed to notice changes in countenance when talking to certain people. It helps in the long run."

"Right," Vanitas said in clipped tones. "I'm sure it does."

The blonde tapped the rim of his cup. "I'm not messing with you this time. It's the honest truth."

Truthfully, Vanitas didn't really buy it. But it was hard to tell with an emotionally distant person like Ventus. Vanitas leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs before speaking.

"Anyway," he began. "I remember that there was something you wanted to discuss with me back at the hospital?"

The detective stared at his coffee mug before answering. "Yes…there was," he confirmed at last.

"And that would be?"

To Vanitas's surprise, Ventus attained a sudden steely look in his eyes. Was it really something that bad?

"Before I tell you, you have to promise to hear me out to the end," he ordered. "I'll tell you right now—this will sound completely unrealistic. But it really happened, at least to me. No judgments on what I'm about to say. Because it has definite relevance to this whole circumstance. Is that clear?"

Vanitas didn't like the implications of that request, but he couldn't really judge for himself unless he heard the story. He also felt that the young blonde was acting rather self-consciously from the way he was setting up his conditions. He wasn't too sure—no one he'd conversed with in his life had acted this way. Not that he'd conversed with a lot of people in the first place, but regardless—whatever it was, it was big.

"Crystal," Vanitas agreed.

"All right." Ventus took a deep breath. "Right after Sora shot me," he began, his voice carefully leveled, "I fell unconscious, and I found myself in what some psychologists might call a limbo. I was all alone in a strange place, between life and death. At least…I was for a little while."

Vanitas raised his eyebrows in disbelief. No wonder the detective had acted somewhat strangely. "This was all happening in your head?" he asked skeptically.

Ventus shrugged helplessly. "Honestly, I'm not too sure myself. Maybe it never actually happened and I was hallucinating. That's what I thought at first. But then…I met someone."

"Met someone? In that dream?"

"Actually it was more like a—" Ventus broke off and raised his hands in surrender. "Know what, yeah; let's just call it a dream for the sake of this conversation. Yes, I met someone in the dream."

"Who?"

Ventus once again hesitated. This must involve a rather touchy subject, Vanitas noted inwardly.

It looked like it was costing him a great deal to reply when he finally mustered the words, "My brother."

Vanitas felt his eyebrows shoot up in astonishment. "You have a brother?" he asked incredulously. This socially awkward, uptight, no-nonsense man had a sibling? Vanitas couldn't imagine him having a brother in any sense of the phrase. It seemed so…out of character for him.

Ventus let out a hollow laugh. "Yes. I had a brother." But then rested his elbows on the kitchen table and crossed his fingers together, a distant expression crossing his features for a moment. "But he's not around anymore."

Realization hit Vanitas like a bullet train. "I see…so he's…"

Ventus nodded.

Vanitas had witnessed enough death and other forms of such tragedies to realize that well-meaning comments like I'm so sorry to hear that and It must be hard on you held no true meaning to anyone who'd suffered through anything traumatic. But he couldn't help but feel that he was no longer jealous of his colleague. At least his brother was still alive, albeit ax-crazy.

"So you said that you met your dead brother in your dream," Vanitas continued, reclining into the sofa as he moved off the potentially dangerous topic, "and I'm assuming that he told you something important? There's no other reason you'd mention it to me."

"Yes." Ventus seemed relieved that Vanitas hadn't pursued the subject. "Something about…you and Sora."

That piqued Vanitas's attention. "What?"

"Well," Ventus clarified, pulling at the collar of his plain green polo shirt, looking uncomfortable, "not so much you as the organization behind this whole mess."

It took a minute for Vanitas to process. "What did you just say?"

"He knew about Sora," Ventus continued. "And that someone else is pulling his strings, if you catch my drift."

Vanitas couldn't believe this. He was in utter denial. This random nobody of a person had had information on the most secretive organization known to select mankind? How?

"So your brother knew about all this? About C.L.O.U.D. and how they force pawns to carry out their dirty work?" Vanitas said sharply. "How is that even possible? No one could've known! No one! And if he really had known, why didn't he say anything to you, the best detective on the East Coast, about them?"

Ventus appeared unsurprised at his sudden rant like he had expected such reception from someone who had had to endure untold amounts of torment, physical and psychological. "Don't jump to conclusions. He never mentioned the name C.L.O.U.D.," he cut in. "He only hinted at their existence and their hand in Sora's role in the murders. And back when he was still alive, I was still only an intern. Even if he did know then—and I doubt that he did—he'd had no reason to tell me." The detective tightened his jaw as if a bitter taste had crept onto his tongue. "Besides, if he really did know, and he'd told me, what could I have done at the time?"

"You're making this sound like…he found out about all this after he died. He found out that my own brother was being pulled on his strings by C.L.O.U.D. when those two girls were killed even though he shouldn't have been able to." Vanitas gave him a look of pure disbelief. There was no way that this story could be true. It had to have been a lie. And he would have thought so, too, if the person speaking to him had been someone else other than who was sitting before him at this moment.

"Like I said before; I'm not sure myself," the young detective retaliated. "All he would tell me is that it was information that he was forbidden to reveal. Probably because he knew that someone else would come along and tell me. That person is most likely you."

Vanitas shook his head in his incredulity. This was starting to sound more and more outlandish. "Your brother learned about this. Your dead brother."

"I told you not to jump to conclusions. And you didn't know my brother," Ventus inserted defensively. "He was extremely intellectual by our standards. He knew things I will never comprehend no matter how many years go by."

Whoever this detective's brother had been, Ventus must've held a lot of respect for him.

"All right; fine then," Vanitas said, crossing his arms.

There was a silence that pervaded the room so thickly it could have been cut with a hot butter knife. The two cups sat on the teakwood table, both untouched.

When the silence got too uncomfortable, Vanitas broke it. "When are you going to ask me your question?"

The detective looked lost for a moment before realizing what he was saying. "Oh, right…that."

"That's right. What were you trying to ask that day?"

Ventus shook his head lightly. His expression was guarded. "I don't think now is the best time to ask."

"And why is that?"

"It's because—" Ventus stopped short, then began again reluctantly, "Because it has something to do with…"

Vanitas's vision went red when he understood why the blonde was hesitating. "Look, if you're talking about Sora again, then stop worrying your damn head about it," he snapped. "Just spit it out. Unless you want to talk about something that deals with the reason we've been involved in this for so long, I could really care less about what you're going to say."

Ventus was startled. "But—"

"I'm serious!" Vanitas punched the table as he shot to his feet in his sudden rage, causing their coffee mugs to rattle. "I'm very aware that my brother is insane! He lost himself a long time ago! You seriously think I wouldn't know? And here you are just assuming that I'm an ignorant and oversensitive bastard who can't take something like that! After everything I had to suffer for my brother's crimes?! After having to watch my brother suffering because he was watching as I suffered?!Who the hell do you think I am, detective?!"

Ventus winced guiltily, and Vanitas felt a sense of vindictive satisfaction at the sight. Ventus had been a fool to think in such a direction. To think that he couldn't handle a topic as petty as Sora, of all things. That rubbed him the wrong way.

"Alright, alright!" Ventus admitted hastily. "I should've known better. I'm sorry. I won't assume anything like that again."

Vanitas let out a huff. He sat back down on the chair, still with a trace of anger in his chest, and crossed his arms. He glared at Ventus haughtily.

"Now, if you're done thinking I'm a wimp, then go ahead and ask the damn question," he snapped. "What about Sora do you need to know?"

"Well, it's not really a question asking about him," Ventus said quickly in a placating tone of voice. "But it is in regards to him."

"And that would be?"

He didn't know what he was expecting, exactly, but it definitely wasn't what he heard coming from the detective's mouth seconds later.

"Right before I came back, I found out where Sora's being held. Do you want to go see him?"

Under different circumstances, Ventus would've loved today. He was finally out of that hellhole people casually called the hospital. He didn't have to visit the doctor for routine checkups on the proper functioning of his right arm (though as far as he knew, he wouldn't be able to regain full use of it). The day was bright and sunny without a hint of clouds in any corner of the sky, accentuated by the few birds he could see flitting across the endless blue. Redbrook was like it always was—quiet for a city, yet still managing to bustle about. Especially today; it was strangely calm for a Monday.

It was lucky that Ventus had suggested that he should go along with Vanitas to where Sora was, in hindsight. If he'd gone alone then it would've caused more trouble than either of them could handle.

Like right now, since he could see the pale fugitive snapping at a security guard standing at attention at the entrance of the tall gray brick building for not letting the two of them in to see his brother. Vanitas had rushed on ahead once they'd arrived, leaving Ventus to trail along behind him. Normally he would've run after him without a second's delay, but he wasn't allowed to overexert himself for several days, maybe a week at most thanks to the blood loss and shock he'd suffered after getting shot. He probably should've mentioned that to Vanitas before he went charging in. The parking lot wasn't too big, but he found himself taking longer than usual to traverse it. He grunted in annoyance.

"Now wait just a damn minute," Vanitas was arguing heatedly as he drew closer, "why the hell can't there be any visitors?!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let you in without authorization," the guard was placating him, but it didn't do too much to settle Vanitas down. "He's a convicted criminal; we can't just let anyone—"

"To hell with that load of crap! I don't care if he killed the goddamn president; that's my brother you're trapping in there!" Vanitas shouted.

Ventus sighed inwardly. The way things were going, they would be kicked out even before they got past the front door. Ventus decided to step in to avoid causing any more disturbances.

"Hold it," he broke in, causing the two of them to pause and look in his direction, Vanitas in confusion and the guard in shock.

"A-Agent Reed!" the guard exclaimed, immediately standing at attention. "I didn't know you were out of the hospital!"

He placed a hand on Vanitas's shoulder to restrain and pull him back, all the while giving him a warning look to step back. He then turned his attention to the young security officer. "Well, naturally. It's only been a couple of hours since I left the hospital, Officer Williams." Ventus wasn't about to bandy words with this man though, so he cut straight to the chase. "But I'm not here to talk. If he needs authorization to be let in, then allow me to act as such. He's with me."

The guard looked even more shocked than ever, like it was completely out of the norm for Ventus to speak for a man who looked like a homeless college dropout (which it probably was).

"But sir," he protested, "How is he—"

"I've told you on multiple occasions to stop calling me that. And as for how he is with me—you heard him before, didn't you? That killer is his brother. And he is my close colleague. They've been through enough as it is, so don't deny him this chance to see him." Ventus gazed at him steadily. "Don't make me repeat myself, Williams. I'm not in the condition—or the mood—to deal with such problems."

The guard flinched back at his harsher-than-normal tone of voice. "Y-yes, of course. I'm sorry." He then stepped aside and opened up the path for them.

Ventus walked through the sliding doors and motioned for Vanitas to join him, who did so after a moment of pause. They walked the silent corridors wordlessly for several paces until Vanitas spoke up.

"You never cease to amaze me," he grunted as he continued to walk in stride with Ventus.

Ventus looked to his companion curiously. "Hm?"

Vanitas shook his head, a wry smile upon his pale face. The harsh lighting in the corridor made his skin appear to be bone-white. "I mean, I know that you're famous and all. But that security cop treated you like you're his lord or something. I mean, calling you sir? Isn't that a bit much?"

Ventus sighed ruefully. "Try telling that to them," he said with a hollow chuckle. "They won't listen to me when I tell them to address me more casually. Something about them needing me to get the respect I deserve." He exhaled sharply. "Like hell I do."

"You don't think so?"

"No, I don't think so. I know so. I haven't done anything of note. Whenever I try to say that, I always get the same excuses. 'You're so talented.' 'You've done so much for the people.' 'You're a prodigy.' All that is a load of bull. I didn't achieve anything to merit receiving anyone's respect. Until I feel like I deserve it, I'll have to live a lie."

That last word came out bitter. He hadn't meant to sound so cynical, but he was tired of having to deal with the overblown labels the public plastered onto his image—even his co-workers, give or take a couple. He just wasn't who people said he was. He was just an ordinary man, with an ordinary job, with a somewhat ordinary life. It only just so happened that he became the youngest detective in New York history. There was nothing special about him—no genius, no prodigy. If there were, then none of this would have happened.

"So," Vanitas said at last, breaking through Ventus's brooding, "you're one of them. A man who doesn't feel like he deserves the respect he gets."

"I am."

"Can't blame you."

Ventus didn't have a reply to this. But he didn't need one.

The two men paused in front of a barred door at the end of the hallway. Vanitas stared apprehensively.

"This is it," Ventus clarified to clear the confusion. "This door leads to Sora."

The golden-eyed man's wary expression morphed into one of confusion. "'Leads to'?"

"There's an observation chamber beyond this door. That chamber is what separates the observer from the convict. Each prisoner has a personal guard. That's who we'll be speaking to before meeting Sora."

Vanitas's expression darkened. Ventus wondered if this man knew how frightening he appeared whenever he scowled.

"An 'observation chamber'? What the hell are these convicts to you law enforcers, animals?" he snapped, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"It's for the sake of safety," Ventus lied through his teeth. "For both the civilians and the criminals."

"I fail to see that kind of logic, if you can even call it that."

"Listen, whether you do or don't, reason stands that if you don't abide by the rules of this building, we came here for nothing."

The former abductee went silent at these words. Despite the growing exasperation in his chest, Ventus couldn't help but feel another pang of pity upon once again noticing Vanitas's physical condition. Those near-death tortures that Vanitas had been subject to for ten years had been nothing short of cruel, at least from what Ventus had learned. What kind of twisted mind would torture a human being right in front of a brother already hanging on by stringy tethers in his mind so brutally that he would appear dead when they were through? Even worse, they had kept him alive in case Sora ever showed signs of deviating from their corrupted cause, so they could bring him out and repeat that process. The scars on the abductee's body had never completely disappeared, having never gained the opportunity to properly heal. Why did an innocent member of the family have to get dragged into this arena of endless carnage?

At long last, Vanitas sighed. "Okay, fine," he said stoically. "You win. Let's go."

Ventus proceeded to tap on the bars of the door twice, upon which a figure approached the door on the other side. He was met with the face of an old friend.

"Stillwell," Ventus called through the bars. "This is Reed. I have a visitor with me who wants to see our convict."

The door creaked open, revealing a brown-haired man in his early thirties in surprisingly casual attire for a guard—a black sweater and brown-colored formal pants like one would wear to business meetings.

"Well, it's been a long time since I saw you last, Reed," the man said with a warm expression.

"It certainly has been a while."

"Come on in. Let's not have you standing out there," he urged. He ushered the two men into the beige-walled chamber before carefully locking the door behind him.

The personal guard glanced at Ventus's companion standing next to him. "Who's your guest?"

Vanitas introduced himself without so much as batting an eye when he heard the query. "The name is Vanitas, sir. Vanitas Crowe. Sora is my younger brother."

"A pleasure, Mr. Crowe. I'm Terra Stillwell, and as you can see I work here." Interest flickered into the guard's sharp blue eyes. "So you're the one called Vanitas. Alive, too."

"You know about him?!" Ventus asked incredulously. He also felt Vanitas tense next to him. When he chanced a glance at his face, it was tightened with wariness.

"Haha, no, no. It's just a name that our convict has been repeating for quite some time now."

Vanitas immediately loosened at these words and stared in shock. "He has?"

"Quite extensively, to be honest. Something about you being dead. Though I'm not entirely sure if he knows what he is saying anymore."

"Where is he?" Vanitas demanded to Terra, grabbing his shoulders so suddenly even Ventus was shocked. He had a desperate air about him. "Please, tell me!"

It was in this moment that Ventus could see how much Vanitas cared for Sora. Murderer or not, Sora was someone important to him. The tenderness, wild concern, and even slight protectiveness—they all mingled in his expression. He strongly suspected that Sora had felt the same way toward Vanitas as well. It would explain how quickly and easily C.L.O.U.D. broke him by torturing his (what Ventus assumed to be) only family to near-death before his very eyes.

In a heart-wrenching moment, Ventus was reminded of the time he and Roxas had felt that exact same way for each other, no matter how difficult their situations became. A relationship nothing could imitate. Roxas might be gone physically, but at least he could still remember the times the two shared with no bitterness, and he had stayed true to himself to the end. Vanitas, however, had no such blessings. His brother was gone, too—having met a fate worse than death. He would remember the days when everything was normal for each other, with the knowledge of the fact that his brother would never return to him intact despite still being alive. The Sora that they knew up until now was long gone.

Terra wasn't at all surprised at Vanitas's action. He merely brushed his hands off of his shoulders and gestured to the wall-sized window to their left, which showed the interior of a large white room the size of a typical garage. There was no furniture other than a small gray couch at the far end of the room, on which Sora was sitting limply. He gave no indication that he was aware he had visitors despite sitting in the direction of the window. He was staring at the glass pane opposite him blankly, as if he was peering straight through the people on the other side of it. Ventus wasn't too sure, seeing as Sora's expression appeared dull and devoid of life, so he might not have been in his senses. His heart strings pulled painfully at this sight, but that wasn't the worst part.

In stark contrast to the vivid white walls and floor, Ventus could see that Sora was caked in his own blood. He was still wearing the white tee and blue jeans from the day of his arrest, both of which were torn now, making the blood ever more noticeable. The floor around his feet and the wall behind him also showed large blots and streaks of crimson. He felt his eyes widen in horror and his breath catch in his throat. He quickly turned to Terra, who immediately understood his expression.

"He's been maiming himself in every way possible once he was brought here," the guard explained solemnly. "We tried treating him, but it's useless. He inflicts injuries on himself over and over again. Not even straightjackets work—he got himself out each time we tried. It's almost as if…he was punishing himself."

"Punishing himself?" Ventus echoed in disbelief. "How—"

He was interrupted when Vanitas immediately pressed against the glass separating him and Sora, staring at his brother so intensely it was as if he was making sure he wouldn't vanish in front of him. His expression became increasingly pained as he took in the sight of his virtually catatonic brother and the stains of blood surrounding him.

His right hand tightened into a fist as he punched the glass once in despair as he whispered, "Sora…" His entire body shook, and Ventus could see that the escapee was desperately trying to hold in his tears. He didn't know what to say. But luckily, he didn't need to.

"Is…" Ventus started at Vanitas's voice, not having expected him to speak in such a state. "Is it alright if…I go to him?"

Ventus and Terra both exchanged glances with each other in surprise before Ventus asked warily, "You…you're sure about this, Vanitas?"

"He's my brother." Vanitas lifted himself from the glass and lowered his gaze to the ground, with his eyes shadowed by his dark bangs and one hand still resting on the window pane. "I know him better than anyone. I know how he got that way. It was my fault, after all. It was my fault that we both got involved with C.L.O.U.D. the way we did, not him. If it weren't for me, he wouldn't be here like this."

He raised his head slowly and locked eyes with Ventus. Ventus was shocked by what he saw in Vanitas's gaze. He looked utterly shattered.

"You…you knew him better than anyone else around him," Vanitas said. "You've watched him in my stead for all these years without realizing it…you could have…you could have easily turned his life around. None of us would be standing here today if that were the case. That's what I thought at first.

"But I was being irrational. You couldn't have known. And he might have seemed sane to you in the time you knew him. And even once you discovered his true nature…you didn't give up on him. Not for a moment. Even though you knew that…that he was just too far gone to help. I could tell, right when I saw you confronting Sora at his apartment" —Ventus remembered Zack telling him that the entire police force of Redbrook plus Vanitas had tailed him there and waited on standby— "that you cared about him, too. You disarmed yourself, and knowing you, you probably realized then that you could very easily die. It was probably sheer luck that got you out of that alive.

"But still, you did take care of him all these years, even if you didn't know what was going on under the surface. I'm not sure how to put this, but…" Vanitas cleared his throat before completing the sentence. "Thank you."

Ventus was so frozen in astonishment that he hardly knew what he was thinking. He'd never dreamed that Vanitas could ever sound so…grateful. The two things just didn't mesh in his mind.

"I—I really didn't do anything in particular," he managed. "I only thought it would be the best solution to avoid killing anyone else…"

Vanitas chuckled softly, which shocked Ventus even more, if that was possible.

"Spoken like a man," Vanitas said quietly, slowly removing his hand from the glass. "Isn't that right…Ventus?"

If Ventus had been shocked before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. "I –"

Vanitas turned his gaze to Terra, who had been waiting patiently through his monologue, and requested, "That's how it is. If it's permissible, I'd like to go to my brother."

Terra said nothing for a heartbeat, then solemnly asked the same question Ventus had. "Are you sure about this, Mr. Crowe? He's gotten quite unpredictable as of late."

"Yes," Vanitas answered firmly. "I won't be in any danger from him."

Terra gazed at the determined man standing before him steadily. Then the stoic officer turned to regard Ventus. "And what is your opinion on this, Reed?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, Ventus answered, "He should go. It's the right thing to do."

Vanitas eyed him in surprise. "You—you're letting me—"

"Let me just say that I know what it's like to have a brother in distress," Ventus cut in. "If that was my brother in there, I would want to be alone with him." He smiled at him. "Go ahead."

The fugitive stared at Ventus in disbelief, as if he couldn't take in the fact that he was sympathizing as casually as it was possible. Ventus couldn't blame him, quite honestly. But he knew that if he was in Vanitas's shoes, he'd want to go to his brother alone.

Vanitas continued to stare for several more seconds before snorting in amusement. He then clapped Ventus on the shoulder (his left, thankfully) and said, "I don't care if you think otherwise. You're a good man."

Before Ventus could muster up a reply, Vanitas followed Terra to the door that would lead him into Sora's chamber. When the door closed behind Vanitas's back and Ventus was left alone, he could only smile.

"If I'm a good man in your eyes," he mused to himself, "then you must one hell of a man yourself, Vanitas."

That's that. I hoped you liked it. I was originally going to write more (like what happens between Vanitas and Sora in the chamber) but I was already dragging this on for way too long and I didn't want any of you to wait any longer than you had to (God knows how often I've done that), so what happens between the two is left to your imagination (which I'd like to know, personally! Let me know what you think happens!). This is what you get after eons of waiting. (Sorry there's really not much going into C.L.O.U.D. Like I said, this is more backstory than sequel.) Please tell me what you thought of it! Any constructive criticism is welcome!