There Will Be Rest, a kingdom hearts fanfic

This is, debatably, the greatest fanfiction I have ever written in my entire life. I'm not joking; it's just…Wow.

The story…The concept…This is the one thing I have done that I will go on and on to brag about if you let me. I have no complaints at ALL.

This takes place on the day of Chance's successful attempt at his life, and the days after that while the Organization mourned.

Inspired by a song that makes me want to cry because of its beauty, and put together in a way I can hardly fathom, this is my pride and joy.

And I highly advise you listen to the song while reading this. Not just because it ties into the story, but the song itself is beautiful.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters, places, or reference I borrow. Square Enix owns all of that.

I also do not own the song, 'There Will Be Rest'. I'm not nearly brilliant enough to come up with such a masterpiece. The respected owner holds the copyright.

However, I DO own Cenchax, and the Taking Chances series, neither of which can be used without my permission.

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There Will Be Rest

A Cat's Eye Fanfiction Inc. Production

Dedicated to the CHS regular choir for performing such a beautiful song. Even if it wasn't performed the right way.

Falling is a strange sensation indeed.

The wind is flying past me…

It's kinda cold now that I think about it…

It's probably going to rain soon…Maybe it'll start before I fade…

Wonder how much blood I've lost.

His eyelid fluttered, tugged by the wind flying past him. Half of him wanted to open them, to see how much further of a drop he had, but he was almost afraid that, if he were to open them again, he would wake to find that he had survived the fall. He was afraid he'd have another five hundred feet to fall. He was patient, but to see something like that would be far too painful than he could stand to manage.

Still, he couldn't see much through his partially opened eyes. Black dots swirled his vision, and what little imagery he could see was gone an instant later. Thank goodness for his sightlessness.

The eye closed fully again. He could still feel his hair flying in the wind. Some warm, sticky substance was dripping from his stomach, accompanied by a screaming pain. He could almost taste the metallic blade sticking through him as though it had gone down his throat.

Was this worth it?

…Yeah, it was. I…I need a break. I can't stand this anymore. I need to get away from everything, if only for a few minutes. If I have to sacrifice everything I own my friends, the ones I love…He squinted his eyes shut further, trying to block out what little pain came to him. It will be worth it. I don't deserve them…

He was giving up everything he had ever known for a cause he knew nothing on. But he needed to do this. He needed a break. He had been unable to sleep calmly for years. He was too tired of everything to be able to stand this anymore.

There will be rest

"NO!" Once again, the screams came out of their throats. A blonde and a slate-haired teen slammed their fists on the ground, overcome with sadness, sobbing in agony. Their companions were either doing the same, something similar, or mourning as quietly as they could. How much longer could they stand to scream? Days if need be. To express their undying grief, they needed more time than could ever be given to them.

"THIS ISN'T FAIR! HE SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN TAKEN FROM US!" an older man snapped, turning to the wall and slamming his fist into it. A loud 'CRACK' sounded out, and a huge hole formed into it, wall paint chipping, boards cracking, his knuckles breaking through his glove. The blonde who was sobbing on his shoulder jumped, but merely crumpled to the ground, placing her head in her hands to mourn further. A second blonde tentatively walked over and placed his arms around her, which she accepted with what could almost pass as gratitude, had her bawling allowed her to feel anything other than misery.

"He…He chose this…" the blonde man managed to choke, trying to blink back his own tears, though it really was no use. None of them could keep back any of the emotions that were peeking at their height.

There will be rest

He smashed. Horns blared in his ear, one in particular blaring louder than the rest and continuing the longest.

He always liked the clouds in the sky. As close as they seemed to the sun, they never fully evaporated, and remained as they were, drifting along contently. They went through the atmosphere practically undisturbed, save the stray aircraft on the occasion, and they always managed to regain their shape, almost an exact copy of the original, if not the original itself. Even in the night, they just drifted where they pleased, without a care in the world. If there was something that was ever-changing yet always the same, always moving but remaining in place, it was clouds.

The thought of living in such tranquil places was very promising to him.

I wonder if this will be any different from any of the other times I've tried this…Other than the fact that I suc—He was cut off. The horn's sound screeched in his ear, and more weight than he had ever been under dashed over him, several times, and possibly more than that, but after the first three, he felt nothing more. He felt one after another of his bones shatter for two milliseconds, then everything stopped. Sound stopped, his thoughts stopped, feelings stopped, and everything went black.

And sure stars shining

Slowly, a tan-skinned man managed to lift his head to gaze at the glowing screen again, eyes locked on a boy lying across the pavement, looking broken but more peaceful than he had ever seemed before. Another spray of tears released from his eyes, trailing down his cheeks, but he managed to keep his head up, and not bury it once again in the chest of the one comforting him. He gathered himself together best he could, and sniffed one last time, vision still blurred.

With determination, he managed to pull himself out of the man's grip, and walked over to the television, eyes locked in place. One by one, everyone looked up at him, eyes still watery, and faces bleak, but curious as to what their Superior were doing. All but one looked up, a golden blonde who was still kneeling on the ground, face even damper than the rest. The slate-haired teen next to him placed a hand on his shoulder, causing the boy to turn his baby blue eyes on him. With a slight nod of his head, the older teen indicated that the sobbing boy should look over to their Superior. Instantaneously, they looked over, to look once again, not only at the screen, but to their leader, for support.

The tan-skinned man place himself in front of the screen, almost as to shield everyone's view from its horrors. His eyes closed for a moment, and in an undignified fashion, he wiped several tears from his face. Slowly, he opened his dull amber eyes, looking to each and every member in front of him.

"This is…the worst tragedy that the Organization has ever had to deal with…" he began, not even trying to mask his voice as he usually did. "And that is an understatement…" He turned halfway to the screen, trying not to look directly at it, but trying to indicate it. "As much as I despise to say this…There…There is absolutely nothing we can do about it…"

The blonde began to slip off of his arms, almost falling to the floor. The teen next to him gently grasped him and pulled him in close, arms wrapped around him. The blonde curled up into his arms, more tears streaming out of his eyes. He grit his teeth, biting back a sob.

"We will never forget him, as we should never…" the tan-skinned man continued. "But we must learn to say goodbye and move on…"

"But it isn't fair…" a man with rose-colored hair muttered, releasing himself from his comforter's grip, and wiping his own brilliant blue eyes. "He shouldn't have…"

"It was his choice…" the blonde comforting the woman repeated. A black-haired man nearby nodded, not agreeing with the event, but rather the statement.

"He wasn't taken from us…" he grumbled, ducking his head to hide the sadness in his eyes. "He chose to leave—"

"DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT!" a young brunette snapped, causing everyone to jump. "DON'T YOU EVER MAKE IT SOULD LIKE HE CHOSE TO LEAVE US ALL! Lie for the rest of your life, forget the truth…JUST NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN!" He fell to his knees, eyes wide in shock, his face getting wetter by the second. He collapsed, and only the sounds of his cries convinced everyone he was still conscious.

"Demyx…" a red sighed, kneeling down and rubbing the boy's back.

"He was our best friend…He'd never leave by choice…Never…" the boy muttered in a delusional manner, coughing as his mouth was flooded with salt water.

There will be rest

He sensed a bright light from behind his eyelids.

Oh dear. Not a good sign.

For five seconds, terror gripped him, as he imagined himself lying on a hospital bed, or back in the Castle's infirmary, his friends waiting for him to wake again to point out his mistakes to him. He had failed again, hadn't he? He was still alive, wasn't he?

Strange…Even as a Nobody, even with his powers…He should feel some form of pain. Some weakness in his body, to signify that he had indeed just broke all of his bones and stabbed a sword through his stomach. And why was there no sound surrounding him? By now, shouldn't Roxas or Zexion or Vexen be fretting over his wounds? Wouldn't there be a small murmur in the background, comments on what could be done to try and 'save' him?

Not trying to make sense of everything all at once, he allowed himself to lay still, trying to catch up on that desperately needed sleep. But he found that he couldn't. He was too curious as to what this place was, and what was going on, to feel tired.

After several minutes, his eyelid fluttered, trying to open. Wincing at the onslaught of light, he squinted it up again, scrunching up his face. Slowly, his eye began to open, his mouth making a small 'O' of curiosity. He was aware that he was staring at a bright blue, cloudless sky. The sun was blaring at him, though from what direction, he wasn't certain. He was lying on something incredibly soft, and as far as he could hear or smell…There was nothing. Not another being in sight.

Even the sky seemed out of place. The last sky he had seen was dull gray, slowly darkening to accommodate for the rain.

He lifted his hand, groaning. Subconsciously aware that there was a knife in his stomach, he reached for it, intending to take it out.

His eye opened fully. He pat around, feeling the squelch of blood against leather…But no metal.

Where was the knife?

And why was he still bloody?

Groaning in effort, he lifted his body up, supporting himself on one arm. He heaved a small sigh, feeling drained from his attempt at his life. After catching what little breath he still had, he finally looked up to observe the scenery.

Clouds.

And sure stars shinning

"Regardless of what his beliefs were…" their leader continued, trying to finish his speech before his voice broke again and the sobs continued, "He did what he thought was best…"

"Even though everyone here disagrees with it…" the slate-haired boy muttered darkly. He didn't appear to be angry; only as desolate as the rest, and just as regretful that he hadn't tried harder to keep the boy alive.

"If only we had been more careful…" the boy in his arms whispered, burying himself deeper still into the other boy's chest. He didn't seem off-set by the discomfort of the other boy, too wrapped up in trying to control his breathing, and to keep together his breaking heart.

The gray-haired man up front turned to the TV one last time to take in the scene. He froze, and for a few moments, it appeared he were about to fall to his knees and shatter. Somehow, he managed to take in the screen after a few moments, and lifted a slow yet determined finger to the power button. Giving the boy in the corner of the monitor one last, sad look, he ended his small speech.

"Goodbye, Cenchax, the Fearless Psychic. You may be gone, but none of us thirteen will forget you…"

The screen was off. The man fell to his knees.

None of them even gazed outside to see what a beautiful day it was, for once in the World That Never Was. In the middle of March, a light, fluffy snow drifted from the sky, controlled by neither Academic nor Nocturne. The sky was bright, in a mocking sort of way, and the piles slowly built up along the walkways, over the castle walls, on top of the roofs…

But what did it matter? There was only one thing that was in the sky that they cared about. And he was far above the snow-covered rooftops they could access.

Over the rooftops crowned with snow

He blinked several times, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. He lifted a hand, and pat the clouds. It was soft as a cushion, but firm, to give support. He gripped a chunk and gave it a tug. It ripped out easily enough, but soon faded into mist, and was replaces a few moments later by more clouds. He craned his neck around, searching for anything else. No one he knew to the left, nor to the east. Actually, there was no one there. Not a human being, or an angel, devil, animal, plant…Not even anything that could vaguely resemble a soul. Just clouds further than the eye could see.

He stood up, eye huge. He kept looking left and right, still in disbelief that this was real. He even pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. There was no prick of pain, but he felt the pressure on his arm. Still fascinated, he looked up at the cloudless sky above him. He realized that there weren't any clouds above him because he was on the highest of the condensed water vapors. Is this…Is this what it's like for a Nobody to die…?

He tried to remember what had happened prior to this. He remembered his death vividly. He remembered running through memories before leaping off the cliff. He remembered longing for suicide.

…But why?

He couldn't remember completely. Well, he remembered everything; Treep, Roxas, Demyx, Axel, the Organization, all the worlds he's visited, Sora, Nathan, Rose, Darren…

But the memories were foggy and vague. Details and specifics were sharp, but he…

…

He couldn't feel anything. That was it. Slowly, a look of sheer awe and joy crossed his face, accompanied by bitter bliss. That was what was different. He couldn't feel pain. He couldn't feel hurt. He couldn't feel the torment that his mentality hammered into him day after day after day. He could remember anything he wanted and not feel an emotion. Even the joy he felt now, he couldn't feel.

He was free at last.

A reign of rest

Serene forgetting

Black. The traditional color of the Organization. It followed them on every journey they made. Their coats were black, their feelings were described as black, and even their souls could be noted to be black. It wasn't just a color for hatred or elegance; it stood for nothingness, for apathy, for emptiness. And it also stood for death.

Once again, as the thirteen remaining members gazed around a single tombstone, black had followed them again. Twelve of the thirteen was wearing a black tuxedo, head bowed with respect. The remaining woman was in a plain black dress, a veil over her head. Those crying hid their tears. Those who wished to say something held their tongue. There was nothing more to be said.

Why they had bothered with a tombstone when they had neither casket, nor anything that resembled a body, no one knew. They merely dug up an old chest from the closet and filled it with what-not; an unwashed cloak of the Psychic, still carrying his sweat-laden scent. A pair of armbands he had discarded in Zexion's room and never thought to take back. A torn shirt he had sent to Marluxia to repair. A Red Mountain Dew. A case of make-up, a paintball pellet, a small recipe, a clipboard, a ticket stub, a pair of shorts, a Chinese warrior's outfit, a pair of charred pants, a pair of swimming trunks, four hundred dollars attached to playing cards, a piece of paper with a clothing design on it, a bracelet, a second ticket stub…

And photos. They didn't hide everything, but three whole albums filled with photos were placed in the chest, and the rest of it was stuffed with as many as they could fit. They still had a few back at the castle, unsure of what to do with them.

All buried six feet or so underground, under a plain tombstone. It was a slab in the shape of a cross, engraved with:

"Here Lies Cenchax Logan.

The Fearless Psychic.

Missed forever. Gone, but never to be forgotten."

In the distance, a drawn-out, mournful howl sounded, continuing on for almost a whole hour. No one even bothered to look up to see who or what it was. It was just another background sound that added to their despair. It was just another being mourning over Cenchax.

It created almost a base tone, a low note, just humming in the background. Their wailing thoughts harmonized with it, until, in their own minds, they each had an individual yet equally depressing tone, ringing over the hilltops, beyond the castle. No one moved. No one had to. They all understood.

The music

The music of stillness

Holy and low

He still couldn't believe this. This couldn't be possible. He took a few steps around, gazing left and right. He shut his eyes, and dwelled upon any painful thoughts he had. Treep had just slashed his back, shattered his heart, and left him bleeding.

Nothing.

Roxas stared at him, a frightened look on his face, blushing darkly. His zipper was halfway down, and a look of what could almost count as hatred covered his fear-filled face.

Not even a twinge of pain.

He was waking up again, after another failed suicide attempt. He remembered instantly all of those who had failed before it. He remembered making plans for another already.

No. Nothing. He could remember each detail specifically. But he has may as well have forgotten them, by the way he reacted. He fell to his behind, mouth wide in awe.

He looked himself over. His eyes locked on the giant gash in his abdomen. Lifting a hand curiously, he tentatively reached down and reached into his wound. He winced, feeling him naturally flinch away at the squelching organs and crushing bones, but his disgust was outdone by his curiosity. He felt around a little bit. He still couldn't feel. There was nothing to indicate that there was a hand poking in a wound on his stomach. He felt his hand there, but it felt more as though it were laying across his stomach, rather than inside of it.

He realized, with a small jolt, that he hadn't taken a breath in some time. Staring at his wound, he observed that, though the blood remained fresh, no more flowed from the wound. He couldn't feel a pulse what-so-ever, even the faint one he usually felt while he were a Nobody. Taking his blood-covered hand out of his stomach, he placed it over his heart.

Several minutes passed.

Not a single beat.

He still refused to believe this. This couldn't have been anything other than a dream…This couldn't be happening to him. He had said that so many times, about horrible things that had happened to him in the past. But now, this horribly wonderful thing…It couldn't be happening, it just couldn't. He'd waken any moment now and find that everything had just been a dream…

There will be rest

"When I first saw Cenchax…" Xemnas began, standing in front of the small crowd in front of him. It was getting more and more ridiculous as the night carried on. Chairs had been laid out; thirteen in total, all lined up in two rows, six per row, and an isle in the middle. The thirteenth chair was placed in the lower right row, though it would probably not be occupied.

And they were giving speeches. Over a Nobody who had barely lived with them for several months. To a body who wasn't there, and who had chosen to forsake his life, they were holding a memorial service for him, ignoring the light snowfall, and the darkening evening. Cenchax had just been special like that. He had been like no one else in the Organization. Even if the rest of the members died without even the blink of another's eye, Cenchax had to be treated special.

"I thought that Zexion was bringing me another of Vexen's failed clones…" he muttered, locking his eyes on the ground. "I scoffed at him, I treated him as I treated every new member, and he was not supposed to be anything special…" He managed to lift his head. "But…" He choked on his sob. "But he was. He was so much more than any one of us could ever imagine. I never knew him as well as I could have, and, if there's one thing he gains in death, it is my deepest regrets…" Unable to stand up there anymore, he slumped his shoulders and walked down the aisle. By silent agreement, the Freeshooter stood up, and everyone shifted over until a seat next to Saix was clear. They brushed off their leader's show of weakness, pretending not to see trails of saltwater run down his face, and ignoring him burying his head in Saix's chest. Xigbar walked up front, flexing and un-flexing his fists, biting his bottom lip.

He turned to everyone, briefly looking at each of their faces, not quite ready to let Xemnas's words die out. He sighed, closing his eye for a moment. Lifting his head, he opened his cat-yellow eye, following the snow as it fell to the ground, trying to appear as though he were trying to admire the evening sky, when truth was he was searching for the right words to say. He almost wished that the clouds had enough matter for him to stand on. Maybe then he could find Cenchax again.

But he was gone forever. Nothing could bring him back.

Turning his head, he muttered, "The kid shouldn't have felt this way…"

And sure stars shining

Over the rooftops crowned with snow

This isn't happening…This can't be real…! He stood up again, and searched once more to see if there were any way this couldn't be what it appeared to be. Mustn't something as seemingly as perfect as this be, in itself, just a manifestation? Such a fantasy was sure to be an illusion…!

As far as his eye could see, all there seemed to be was an expansion of endless clouds, stretching left and right, no hills, no walls, nothing. It was as though someone had made pavement out of the water particles and spread it out for miles. And those miles were deserted.

He was sure that, if it were possible for him to feel even a twinge of emotion, he'd be filled with despair. He shoved his eyelid over on top of his lower lid and grit his teeth, body tensing. It wasn't fair for him to be taunted like this! Whatever this was—certainly not reality—it wasn't fair for him to dangle such hope in front of his face only to tear it away!

He took a step. Then another. Increasing in speed, it wasn't long before he was running blind. He opened his eyes, staring straight ahead, teeth still grit together. He dashed across the Heaven-like terrain, looking for any change, looking for anything new, throwing up mist as he charged. There had to be a loophole, there had to be some flaw. Night would come, taking away this brilliantly soothing light away from him. Another being would come and ruin the entire experience for him. He'd find a door and find himself back in reality, or wake any moment from such a dream.

There was no way. He kept telling himself that something like this could never happen to him. All his life, he had been a disappointment, as everything had been to him. He couldn't be so foolish to believe he was finally going to be satisfied.

A reign of rest

"But we had no right to interfere…" the Gambler of Fate continued. "We mustn't forget, it was his choice in the end, as hard as it was for us." His gaze locked on a distant cloud, over everyone's head, far off towards the slowly rising sun. He could almost imagine he saw Cenchax's face poking over it, gazing down on them all. Any regrets he may have had fell from his eyes as snow, gently coating the ground beneath him…

Shaking the vision away, he continued, "It didn't mean he didn't care about us, nor does it mean that he completely agreed with this choice. It was just as hard on him as it was on us, I'm sure…Cenchax, my dear boy, I can speak for all of us here when I say we would've done so much more if only we had fully understood how you felt…"

Roxas and Zexion winced, slouching in their seats. Roxas felt a lean hand on his shoulder, and turned to see a pair of dull emerald eyes staring down at him with compassion. Slowly, the Flurry of Dancing Flames and the Key of Destiny embraced, rekindling the beginnings of their old, close friendship. Zexion himself leaned on the Melodious Nocturne beside him, feeling the boy bury his face in his hair, stiffening more cries.

The time keeper took his seat again , only to be replaced by the Graceful Assassin. He padded slowly up to the front, head bowed in respect to the dead, and of course, in sadness. He turned to face the crowd, letting the silence settle for a little longer. Raising his head again, he murmured, "All evening, we have remembered both the good and the bad of Cenchax's existence, and his passing…"

Pausing, he lifted his hand to his supposedly non-existent heart. "But we should try even harder to remember the good times, even if we can never forget the bad…" His tone gaining authority, he continued, "Cenchax's stay on earth wasn't the burden he described it to be. It was the closest thing to a blessing that we, as the rejects of the living and the dead, could ever come across. He made us all grin, he made us all laugh, and though tears were shed…" He narrowed his eyes. "Not one of you here could tell me you regret a single moment of that."

No one dared to object with the amaranth-haired man declared. Not finding a single doubtful face in the audience, his blue eyes softened. "His passing should be viewed from his perspective. Wherever he is, I believe it's safe to say that he's happy…Or if not happy, he has found peace he couldn't find here." He, like the ten before him had, gazed at the sky, where the Fearless Psychic supposedly resided now. "That's all he ever wanted, wasn't it? Peace." Closing his eyes, he murmured, "Cenchax, we could never forget you, nor should we, any of the times we've had with you, especially the good…"

As he walked to his seat, the first dull gray lights of dawn stretched across the snow-covered area. Yet, not a single bird stirred, nor any of the woodland animals of the area. The trees were still, the wind was stopped, the brook frozen over, and the snow falling silently to the ground. Yet the silence in itself was a sound, a melody of sadness, a melody of suffering, a peaceful, bittersweet melody. They heard nothing, and strained to hear nothing. But each of them could hear the music.

Serene forgetting

The music

The music of stillness

As he ran, he kept his ears open for any sounds he could hear. But there was nothing. All was still, all was quiet, and all had ceased to exist.

All except a small, non-audible sound, just out of his hearing range, yet barging into his ears as though it were right next to him. Little did he know that he was hearing the exact same melody of his companions. He unknowingly listened to his sorrows, his pains, his frustrations, each tormenting thought, drifting around freely in the bland air around him. The air it created was, of course, miserable, but the peace of his empty mind neutralized such a feeling, leaving there nothing but the quiet melody he could not hear.

He expected it to be drowned out by the wind rushing past his ears, but other than the soft thud on his boots and his ragged pants; nothing remained to block the sound. Even the wind had paused here…

He shut his eyes again, forcing himself to go faster. No! This was all in his head! This wasn't real! However long it took to convince himself that he was still alive, he would manage. Not even the low-toned, almost angelic music in the background couldn't convince him that this was reality. He couldn't believe. If he did, he would just be disappointed again. Not again, no more…

The music of stillness

Stillness

Holy and low

The Savage Nymph took her seat, dabbing the tears from her eyes. The Key of Destiny took a few moments finishing his way down the aisle, almost tripping over his too large feet as he slowly progressed to the front. He didn't attempt to stop the tears flowing from his face, unlike his colleagues. He knew that his eyes were almost dry, anyways. And the more tears he shed, the more proof he had that he missed Cenchax far more than anyone else here did. He had nothing to gain or lose from this knowledge, other than knowing that, though Cenchax was gone, he had been devoted to him, and had tried as hard as he could.

False hope.

He turned to everyone, wondering what else there was to say. He looked to each person, as so many others before him had, thinking about what they had each said, trying not to reiterate in his own small speech.

His voice hoarse and small, he murmured in little more than a whisper, "Cenchax wasn't just a member of the Organization…He was my friend…" He pointed to Zexion. "And yours." He turned to Saix and pointed at him. "And yours, too." He turned his head again and looked to Vexen, pointing at him as well. "And even you…" Putting his hand down. "And to everyone else, he was too." Closing his eyes, and, he continued, "He could've been little more than a co-worker, like some of us are to each other…But he never was." Opening his eyes only to stare at the snow beneath his feet, he stiffened a hiccup of sorrow. "He was part of our family, and we all wish we could've done so much more for him…I know I did…" Eyes dull, he looked back to the crowd. "I regret each day leaving him to fight alone…Even if it wasn't all my fault, I still feel like I should take the blame…"

Though several sets of eyes seemed to disbelieve that Roxas was to blame, they held their tongues, chests too tight to challenge the boy. "I remember that, on the first night he was here, we shared a bond…And I know that Cenchax and I have never had an easy relationship, but, at times, I had hoped that, if not me, someone else would manage to save him…" He looked up at the sky, longing to see just a hint of the mocha eyes he had come to love. But there was nothing but fluffy gray clouds. Not even the snow fell from them anymore.

"Wistful thinking…" he admitted. "And now, we sit here, mourning…" He choked up a little, finding it hard to finished.

"Cenchax…This our final goodbye…Rest in…In peace…" He fell to his knees, his strength gone. The mournful music continued to play.

The music

A reign of rest

Holy and low

Finally, something came up. He nearly skidded to a halt in shock to find something other than the endless expansion. A large wall of clouds started in the middle of nowhere, and ended nowhere. There was such a blinding light around it, that beyond that point, anywhere in that direction, he could see nothing. He felt his chest tighten in what could've been dread, but also in satisfaction. He had been right! Through that wall of clouds, the dream would end.

He pushed himself even faster. He had almost hoped that this world had been real, but rather than be fooled like the idiot he was, he'd rather run to meet reality again. The truth stung, but he'd rather that than to be lied to and have high hopes. The higher the hopes, the harder the fall.

Closer and closer the wall came. His footsteps never faltered, though his mind whirled as he continued to think of all that he was leaving behind. Finally, he had a chance to revive himself, to finally breathe deeply and easily as he slept, to forget everything that had happened. An eternity of this. And he was attempting to leave it behind?

It will be better to face reality now, than to wait, and believe this will last forever. Because I know it won't…Eventually, someone would come after him, and try to rescue him from this emptiness, he was sure of it. Why prolong it?

He reached the wall. He threw his weight against it. For merely being made of water and air, it was more solid than he expected. He kept shoving his body against it, ramming it over and over again, desperate to escape his beloved dream. He couldn't have this truly, could he?

Finally, he gave one final shove, and he cracked through the wall. He squinted his eyes at the impact, forcing himself through the hole. Behind him, soft thuds indicated that the entire wall was disintegrating. He tried to open his eyes, only to wince and shut them again, as they were assaulted by a heavenly light. Suddenly, the music was louder; a soft humming noise, as though a chorus were humming distantly as loud as they could. He lifted his hand over his eyes, opening them into narrow slits, attempting to see.

The music

Serene forgetting

One by one, they stood up and circled the grave, several dropping flowers, or other gifts for the departed. They wiped the grave clear of any snow, and neatened it, trimming the nearby grass, and arranging the offerings neatly over the freshly-dug earth. Zexion even discarded his jacket and covered the grave with it. He knew it would do no good to the stone, but it made the rock in the pit of his stomach ease slightly. Their kind acts, however, could do little to fill the empty space in their chests.

Into the next day, they stood by his grave, still as statues, except for the occasional sob or sigh of pain, or wrapping each other's arms around one another for a few moments, to pull themselves together before tugging away, needing to bemoan alone again.

The first group of people left in the late morning. The Superior, the Luna Diviner, The Whirlwind Lancer, and the Chilly Academic knew there was nothing more they could do. By silent agreement, they each took two chairs, and carried them into the tan skinned-man's portal. They turned their heads, their vapid eyes taking in the other nine still mourning. They could've stayed there forever, but there was still much to do. Uttering silent farewells under their breathes, they were gone.

Several minutes later, the Freeshooter, the Savage Nymph, and the Graceful Assassin made their leave, taking the rest of the chairs, unable to take in the sad scene another moment. They would break themselves if there were to shed another tear. The scarred man opened a portal, allowing his first co-worker through. The woman hesitated before running over to the Gambler of Fate and kissing him lightly on the cheek, their tears mixing. He nodded to her, eyes showing emotion for the first time in several hours. With that, she slowly plodded to the portal. The black and white haired man waiting for her, again showing his kinder side, escorted her through, a hand on her shoulder. Personal disputes mattered naught anymore. To get through these difficult times, if only for the first day, they needed to support one another.

The angelically sickening music continued, taunting them. How could something so sweet feel so sour? How could anyone stand to sing about someone as stiff as the dead in such a beautiful tone.

The music of stillness

Holy and low

His eye managed to fly open, without the light blinding him further.

The Heaven's light spilt down from above, warm and welcoming, yet just as apathetic as the atmosphere of the area. Just as he had seen before, there was nothing but an empty plain of clouds. No more walls, no people, not even a surreal being. It was as though this Heaven had deliberately left the wall of clouds there to say, 'See? This is real…'

His jaw dropped down as low as it could. Though he still cloud feel no joy, he felt the tears slip from his one seeing eyes and trail down his face. So then…Then this was his. He was trapped here. Unless there was an escape further on, there was no way to leave such a place…

And he wouldn't even if he wanted to. As much as he hated himself for desiring this over anything else in his life, especially the people in it, this was what he had wanted so badly for so long. This peaceful nothingness. This is what he had been hoping for as a Nobody, yet never received, being disappointed once again. It's what he had pleaded for each time in death; to be taken to a Heaven with nothing in it, to forget his pains and his troubles.

He fell to his knees, the tears still wetting his face. It was as though he had designed this area all to himself. It felt custom-made, as though, indeed after all his sufferings, God had finally given back something. He had given him a chance to finally lay his head down and feel tranquil, for the first time in more years than he could remember.

His lips tugged upwards in a half smirk. He bent down, using his arms for supports, trying to quell his emotionless sobs. It truly was real…His eye shut, a gasp escaping from his chest. How awfully wonderful. He had abandoned everything he had ever known and loved, to gain what he had desired most.

And what was the debatably the best or the worst part about that was he felt that, not only was it worth it, but he had no regrets. That is, if he could feel. Which made this surreal world even more like his imagination.

I will make this world of my devising

Eventually, the Silent Hero turned to leave. He paused, noticing that two blondes and his slate-haired companion seemed more in pain than the others. He tip-toed over to the Flurry and the Nocturne and tapped them on the shoulders. When they turned their grieving heads, the Hero jerked his head over to the three still mourning, indication they should leave them in peace. Opening their mouths to protest, they paused, realizing the Hero seemed to be right. They nodded weakly in reply, giving Cenchax's grave one last look before turning off into the gamboge-haired man's portal. The brunette stumbled, almost falling on his face, only to be caught by the Hero. Weak with defeat, he slumped in the strong grip, and soon, the brunette lay in his strong arms, curled up sobbing into his chest, overcome by his sorrows again.

The Gambler, Schemer, and Key all had noticed those around them leave, but they couldn't bring it in them to lift their gaze from the stone in front of them. Long after the afternoon had passed, they mulled over their own thoughts, almost as though they had each taken a vow not to break the silence. They had all known so much about him, yet still so little. They had done so much for him, yet they could never have done enough. So much had happened in such a short time, yet in all the long days they had known him, hardly a thing seemed to have happened. Their contradictory thoughts continued on and on.

The Gambler eventually walked up to the grave and pat it one last time. Goodbye, my friend…A low moan escaped his chest. I just wish it didn't have to end like this…He opened a portal, and was gone a second later.

The other two remained. Zexion felt the cold pierce his shoulders now that his jacket was resting on the rock, but he ignored it, his anguish giving him the willpower to remain. His best friend was dead. How could he compare the icy cold winds of winters to something such as death?

Simultaneously, they closed their eyes, as though opening them would make everything fade. As though they could wake up from such a horrible nightmare. All they had to do was close their eyes long enough, and Cenchax would be back, alive and healed, smiling and laughing again. They could romp around the Castle with him still, swap stories, share secrets…and perhaps, in the Key's case, become something more.

They knew that they'd be right back where they stood when they opened their eyes. But nothing could stop them from dreaming.

I will make this world out of a dream

Out of a dream

Finally…Finally…After so much suffering…Watching his best friend get shot to death, his parent's deaths in the fire, the love of his life shattering his heart, his first death, his heart being trampled on again by another, after all of this, he was finally able to rest…! He flipped over onto his side and sighed contently.

It would get really lonely here after a while. But he couldn't feel. Any feelings of loneliness would leave him and drift around, never to bother him again. He could feel even his joy and virulent self loathing slipping away, slowly enough so he could enjoy himself for a bit longer.

It wasn't some kind of dream from his mind. Even his own mind couldn't think of anything as horridly astonishing as this.

Out of a dream in my lonely mind

Zexion may be a Nobody, but the basis of each Nobody was a human, and humans couldn't stand to freeze. He had even exceeded his Nobody limits. He wiped several last tears from his eyes. Bile rose in the back of this throat. He had hardly seen the boy in the past month, allowing Roxas to almost replace him, in a sense. He knew it was foolish to wish…But he still couldn't help but yearn for one last day to bond with the suicidal teen…

"Goodbye, Cenchax…" he coughed, being the first to speak for several hours. He turned to Roxas, wondering how much longer the younger boy could stand to grieve. He could see it in the golden blonde's lifeless eye; he had been in love with Cenchax. Even Zexion's deep friendship with the boy couldn't possibly compare to Roxas's feelings at the moment.

He pat Roxas's shoulder one last time. "We should…" He trailed off, unsure of whether or not he should suggest to the blonde that they should leave yet.

Roxas barely turned his head as he muttered, "You can go ahead…" Turning back to the grave, he murmured, "I'm…I'm not ready yet…"

Zexion nodded. If Roxas had wanted to say anything more, he would've already, either to him or Axel. The Cloaked Schemer felt as though he should do something more for the boy…

There is no remedy for a broken heart. Not even time. More tears began to well up in his eyes. He squinted them shut, and forced himself away from the valley, unable to bear another second of the sadness.

The silence no longer hinted music. It was peacefully quiet. Roxas wondered if he and Cenchax could hear the same silence. He hoped so. The black-haired teen never truly relaxed. A small bout of peace would do him good.

But did he really have to die to find it?

Roxas felt his legs buckle beneath him before he could reach for his reserve strength. He put his head in his hands, almost astonished to find he still had tears to cry. As painful as it was, he should let everything out now, and mourn while he could. There would be less to get out overtime.

He stayed beside the grave for longer than anyone could've ever expected, even himself. The day was fading fast, and the last rays of the sun, hidden by clouds, were slowly leaving the sky. Yet, Roxas could not bring himself to move. Whether the cold had frozen him in place, whether he mourned too much to move, he wasn't sure. He just sat there, unable to cry. His eyes were too dry to afford to dampen again.

Cenchax didn't have to die. He didn't have to leave all he knew behind to find his few moments of repose.

"I loved you…" he moaned. He felt his knees weaken still, and he fell to his side, closing his eyes. With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine Cenchax's face laying across from his, his face upside-down to Roxas because of the angle he was laying at, but their noses still almost close enough to brush. The moment he opened his eyes, however, this vision vanished, and he let out a hoarse, scratchy sob.

"Doesn't that count for anything…?" he whispered. He knew that Cenchax had cared about him. So, was it Cenchax he should blame, for not caring enough…or HIMSELF, for not giving Cenchax enough attention? Was he to blame for depriving Cenchax of his peace?

I shall find the crystal of peace

He let out a small laugh. Followed by another. And another, and another, and followed by a small string of sour laughter. Peace and quiet. Peace and quiet. Peace and quiet, peace and quiet, peace and quiet…So many times taken for granted, but cherished now. Something that everyone should be able to obtain upon wishing for it, yet took him years to find at last.

He dwelled upon his memories of Roxas. The boy had always seemed attached to him, and always wanted his attention…For the first time, he frowned, eye opening half-way; still feeling no regret, but wondering…Was there anything more in Roxas's stare? He thought about it for a while, recalling every blush, every kiss, every moment he had spent with Roxas. Now that he looked back at all the evidence, maybe he should've had more faith in Roxas's emotions. While Zexion would only spend time with him when their schedules agreed, Roxas went out of his way to make plans with the boy. He always seemed almost too eager to allow the boy to remind him of his love. He appeared to lean into their kisses, press himself a little too close to him…

He closed his eye again, murmuring in an almost melancholy tone, "It's too late…" He looked out to observe the clouds. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, and looked down. He imagined that, thousands upon thousands of feet below him, Roxas was below him, possibly angry, possibly depressed…Either way, there was no way the blonde could contact him. And, what if he didn't want to be contacted…?

He stood up. Gazing down, almost as though sad, he murmured, "I'm so far above you, Roxy…" He chuckled, venom dripping from a monotonous voice. "You can't follow me here, you shouldn't, and…I just don't want to be followed anymore…" Sighing in contentment, he let himself fall back onto the clouds, allowing them to cushion his fall, eye closed, almost smiling. "I need my peace…"

And all it took to find that peace was to look higher than anyone else could ever look.

I shall find the crystal of peace

Above me

Composing himself once more, Roxas slowly heaved himself up, once again on his bruised knees. The cold was finally settling in his bones, and he realized that, soon, he would have leave. Even if Cenchax had left him, he had to keep living. Cenchax would never want any of them chasing after him, only to never find him. His gaze travelled to the sky; the clouds seemed a hundred times further away than usual, as though they were trying to drive the point home that Roxas could not travel that far above the ground.

"I want to follow you, Chencha…" he whispered. "More than anything, I want to. But, that would mean doing the one thing you would never forgive me if I did…" He glanced down at his wrists. As much as he believed it may help, for the deceased's sake, in case he was watching over him, he would never mutilate his own flesh to release his pain. He would never attempt to take his own life. He clutched his fists to his chest.

"I can't stand it…I know this is my fault…!" he groaned. He almost fell to his side again, but the snow was beginning to fall again, and if he fell onto the ground and fell asleep, there would be no hope for him at all. If he had just insisted that he stay with Cenchax…If he had never allowed the boy to talk him into leaving…

"I love you…I love you…" he whispered, over and over again. If he chanted the words enough, maybe his beloved would hear him. He could never come back. But he could finally get the truth behind his unanswered question.

"Cenchax, if you had just asked…I love you, too…!" he murmured. "And now it's too late…!" He gripped the cloth over his chest, his eyes leaking a few more tears. "I should've told you sooner…!"

Everything pent up inside him released as he let out a scream. What came over him, he would never know. All he knew was his frustration, his depression, his self-loathing, his agony, his love…He couldn't contain the bundle any longer. It stretched on for such a long time, and even after he was finished, he just took in a deep breath and screamed again. The dried trails on his cheeks dampened again. He tossed his head side to side, gripping onto his hair viciously. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to let everything out again. He hiccupped more sobs, feeling himself grow sicker and sicker, until he forced himself to roll away from Cenchax's grave and hurl. Nothing remained in him, however, and all he managed were dry heaves, that threatened to take away his breath. He wadded up all the foul-tasting saliva in his mouth, and spit it out in his final heave, gasping, coughing and sobbing still.

Still miserable, but calm enough to face the stone again, he turned back to Cenchax's grave. He glanced up at the sky. The snow still fell, but the clouds moved in patches, revealing the night sky above him, a navy-black expanse, with the moon throwing weak beams of light down where it could. To add to that, thousands of stars twinkled, as though they were joyous, as though to mock the boy.

"Are we seeing the same sky?" he whispered. Looking directly above him, he murmured, "Are you up there? Don't you see the stars?" Glancing down at his lap again, he continued, "You always loved the moon and the stars…"

Tears dotted the freshly fallen snow.

Above me

Above me stars

He missed very few things, and each for only a few separate seconds. He lay back on the clouds, his hands behind his head. He sighed as he gazed up at the forever-baby blue sky.

He wished it would darken. He wished he could see the moon and the stars, and the blank expansion he had come to love. The night sky had always been in his solace. Though this was paradise he was in, it wasn't complete without it.

He wished that he could see his friends, as well. He always believed that, when one went to Heaven, they were able to watch over their friends, to guide their actions from above. But maybe Nobodies were deprived of that privilege…

He wished he could visit Zexion and Roxas one last time. He had been neglecting the Cloaked Schemer for some time, and to leave him this suddenly was one of the few things that had caused him to pause on top of that building. As for the Key of Destiny…He had been in love with him. Enough said. That was reason enough for him to wish to at least be able to see what he was up to, to make sure he wasn't too sad…

Then again, maybe not seeing all their reactions was a good things…Visiting Roxas and Zexion would be down-right cruel…And he imagined that the night sky would be too bright now, seeing as he was closer to the celestial bodies. He sighed, and leapt to his feet.

One last run. He had to be sure. He had to continue running, until he was satisfied that there was nothing but this endless expansion of fluffy clouds, or until he woke up from this bittersweet dream. He sprung off of his right leg, and pushed himself further. He ran for almost an hour, coming upon nothing. He even kept an eye out for his own foot-tracks, in case the whole place was an infinite loop. But it extended further than he could travel on foot. He slowed himself to a walk, panting though he felt no fatigue. He looked everywhere, but saw no glitches in his paradise. He smiled, letting out a breath, and stopping all together. He had found it. He had found it at last. He had found that star. The star, so high in the sky, he never thought he'd have. And yet, here he was, in this Heaven-like expanse, feeling so calm that he could fall to sleep whenever he willed

Stars I shall find

He forced his unsupportive legs to stand, swaying for a few moments before managing to stay straight. He couldn't accept it. It was an impossible concept for him to grasp. The Fearless Psychic's presence in the Organization seemed always on the edge, but always just balanced enough not to fall over. Roxas truly had believed that he had an eternity to admit his love to the boy when…The reality of it all was; Cenchax had the choice to leave at any moment.

And that moment had long since come and gone.

Cenchax was gone. That moment had taken him away.

"Goodbye, Cenchax…My Chencha…" The last tear of the evening dripped down his face. "No matter how things turned out, no matter where you are now…I still really, truly love you…"

He stood up and walked away, far enough so that he could no longer see the tombstone. He cast no look behind him as he trudged along. There were no looks he could give, no words he could say, no actions he could perform, that would change this awful outcome.

He opened a portal. I hope, wherever you are, you found what you were looking for…he thought, an almost bitter note in his tone. He walked through and was gone.

Stars I shall find

I shall find

He let himself collapse to the ground. Physically, he wasn't tired, and mentally, he was fine, but his emotions had been unable to rest for a full six or seven years, perhaps even longer than that. He made himself comfortable on the bed of clouds. He almost tried pulling up a blanket, only to realize that there were none. Besides, the unfeeling warmth coming from the light was enough to keep him at a content temperature.

He closed his eyes, the content smile returning.

"Death is bittersweet, isn't it?" he asked no one in particular. And, truthfully, in his case, death could not have a better adjective. It was absolutely wonderful, finding such a peace as this, and finally being able to sleep fully. And yet, what he had to give up to be here, and making no effort to leave, despite having left so much behind.

Still, he could no longer feel regret. His last longing was for a long period of relaxation and sleep. There was no room for regret in there.

"It isn't perfect, but I was never a chooser…" he chuckled. Slowly, and for the first time, peacefully, he drifted off into a deep sleep.

I shall find the crystal of peace

He did not sleep in his own room that night. He couldn't have if he wanted to. He curled up underneath Cenchax's old sheets, ignoring the dried patches of red, and inhaled the scent. It was already starting to fade; Zexion's strong nose could probably still detect the odor, but to Roxas's nose, it was already seeming stale. He sighed, curling up into a tight ball under the sheets. Had he not been so exhausted from lack of sleep, he might've cried some more.

He dwelled upon less painful memories of Cenchax; of the days they had come to his room to chill out. Of the nights they had parties in each other's rooms, and spent with half the Organization, dancing, playing stupid games, Truth or Dare…And of the few times he and Cenchax had just lay together on top of the very sheets he was under, talking, dosing, and especially cuddling…

He pulled the sheets that had once wrapped around his lover closer. It was going to be a long forever.

His dull blue eyes closed one last time, not to open again until morning.

Stars I shall find

THE END

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Oh god.

This took me a month at least, if not longer.

And I will never stop being proud of it ever.

Please, refrain from flaming, let me have my one moment, the one thing I can feel like I did perfect and no one ruins it.

As for the deeper meanings behind this fanfiction…I'd love to discuss them but you'd be here all day. It's open for the interpretation of the reader.

I hope you enjoyed it, and that it touched you in any way shape or form.

~Cat's Eye