The replica lives in Vexen's laboratory. It's cold down there, and hard for it sleep. Machines pulse and whir in the dark; its only bed is an operating table. Axel has brought it a couple of lab coats a while ago, slinging them onto the table. "To keep you warm," he said, but that's a lie. Everything Axel feels is a lie.
The replica can't get cold, not really. But at night it wraps itself in one coat, balling the other under its head as a pillow. The replica doesn't do it for comfort. It does it because it makes it feel alive and real.
The replica lies cocooned in white fabric, its eyes open in the dark. It's waiting for Axel. Sometimes he doesn't come, and it falls asleep waiting. But tonight the replica is lucky.
Axel pushes open the door of the lab. He has a plastic bag shoved under his arm and a bright grin plastered on his face. "Hey, I brought you something."
The redhead pauses, seeing the lump of starched linen tangled on the table. "You asleep or something?" he calls, flicking on the lights.
A tousled silver head appears as the replica emerges from the oversized coat. It sits up, letting the coat pool around its waist. "I'm awake."
Light reflects off the green glass bottles on the shelves above the scientific equipment. Messy pages of scribbles and doodles are perched on the counters, evidence of the clone's boredom. Axel drops his burden carelessly on the replica's makeshift bed. He stoops to pick up a book from a haphazard pile that is spread across on the floor.
"The Republic." He tosses it aside, grabbing another. "Principia Mathematica," Axel reads grandly. He snorts, throwing the book down. It skids across the white linoleum, coming to a rest against the far wall. The shelves shudder and the glass vials tinkle and clack against one another.
The replica springs lightly off the table, padding over to where Axel threw the book. "Zexion and Vexen," it explains. It picks up the large book, dusting off the cover. The tone of its voice is almost defensive when it says, "I get bored, you know. You try sitting in a lab all day."
"Sure, sure. No need to get upset or anything." Axel leaps onto the replica's nest of lab coats, retrieving his plastic wrapped bundle. He holds it out to the replica. Judging by Axel's smug pose and shining eyes, it must be something good.
"Here you go," he says. The replica takes the package, unknotting the plastic straps. Inside is thing rectangle wrapped in brightly colored paper decorated with snowmen and reindeer.
Axel rubs his neck sheepishly with a gloved hand. "Yeah, Christmas paper was all I could find." Then, seeing that all the replica does is stare, he urges, "Open it!"
The replica picks at the tape. "No, no," Axel says, "rip it off!"
The replica digs its fingers into package and drags them down, ripping four parallel tracks in the ice blue paper. It tears the mangled wrapping off and lets it drift to the floor. When it's done, it glances up at Axel, looking for approval.
Axel nods solemnly, giving the clone a double thumbs-up. The replica smiles with pleasure, and inspects its reward. It's a thin, foil wrapped object. There are warped green shimmers on the crinkled aluminum, but the clone can't tell whether it's from the redhead's eyes or the bottles.
The bar smells like white powder that Vexen puts in his coffee. Sucrose, that's what he said it was.
"Take it off," Axel instructs impatiently. The replica peels the foil off revealing a dark brown bar, separated into grooved sections. It brings it close to its nose, sniffing deeply. The smell is rich and velvety.
"Chocolate!" Axel announces proudly. The replica presses its fingers into the bar. The bar, the chocolate gives way slightly, and its finger tips sink into the candy.
"Chocolate," It breathes, softly, tucking the word away in its memory. The replica tears its gaze away from the chocolate and meets Axel's glowing green eyes. "What's it for, Axel?"
"You eat it." Axel rolls his eyes, and the light shines in them just like the green glass.
"I'm not allowed to eat," the replica says, "Vexen said it would damage my mechanics."
Axel blows out his breath in a long, gusty sigh. He slumps down on the heap of coats, stretching his arms behind his head to make an impromptu pillow. The replica joins him, sitting cross-legged by his side, the chocolate still clutched in its fist.
"Well, you got to see it, at least," Axel reasons, propping himself up on his elbows. The skintight black coat drapes off the redhead's thin frame. The dark robe contrasts sharply with the white ones, like hooded shadows on stark white walls.
The replica sits in silence for a moment, before gingerly lying down beside Axel. The redhead slings an arm around it, pressing them together on the narrow space of the table. The replica holds itself very still, conscious of Axel's leg, warm against its own.
The replica let his gaze swing form green bottles to greener eyes, back and forth, back and forth. "Axel…," It says softly.
"Yeah."
"I'll remember this always. I don't care what you say about the memory witch, or Marluxia." And it will remember. Lab coats and chocolate, Axel's warmth, and most of all those green, green glass eyes.
Axle is quiet for a long time, and the replica wonders if he is asleep. When he does reply it is in a voice so low that it can barely hear him.
"You've got as much chance of remembering as I have of feeling sad when you don't."
And when the replica turns to look at him, Axel's eyes are winking and spinning and leaping, like green glass shattering.