A/N: M for mild sexual stuff. Thanks for reading.

Zexion took a deep breath.

All around him, shadows moved in the water, the light filtering in from somewhere high above. But there was no surface; there was no end. Just this.

When he had these dreams before, Zexion would realize he was underwater, and panic- clutch at his throat, attempt to scream, swim to the surface- all in vain.

Now, he knew better.

He relaxed, breathing deeply. The water was warm. It made the usually emotionless boy smile.

This was…

Peace.

"Zexion!"

He grunted.

"Zexion, get up! You're gonna miss your phone call if you don't get your lazy ass out of-"

"Get out."

"Phoooooonneee calllll-"

"No." The slate haired youth rolled over, squinting through the light at the irritating sailor. The man rolled his eyes.

"You go on watch in thirty mikes." And he walked off, leaving the door open. Zexion, not one prone to groaning, groaned.

Cryptolinguist had seemed like such a good job to have when he'd first joined the Navy. Oh, how he'd been fooled.

With a sigh, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his hair- his painfully short hair, yes, but at least he had hair. He was slow to get out of his rack, paused to put on trousers over his skivvies, left the upper half of the blue jumpsuit around his waist.

He made a trip to the head before stumbling to the room where the ship's phones were. Glanced at his watch- he had fifteen minutes before his duty. Damn.

"Hey, Zexy!"

Axel's voice was loud in the slate haired Sailor's ears, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He heard a voice in the background, "Zexion? Tell him I say hi-" and Axel, "Roxas says hi, Zexy! How's it going? Know when you're coming back yet?"

Zexion smiled, leaning back in the plastic seat. It was rare for him to show emotion, but it seemed Axel's upbeat phone calls from across the world could always do that. He'd be hard pressed to admit it, but he missed the obnoxious redhead.

"Everything is fine, Axel. I'll be home in-" he checked the date on his watch, "-two months. And tell Roxas I said hi- and that I congratulate him on managing to convince you to stop manwhoring."

An indignant sqwuak sounded over the line, and Zexion smiled again. He could hear Roxas in the background laughing.

"I was not a manwh-"

"Thanks Zexion!"

He wished he was home. Even though he knew he could never be a part of Axel's life the way he had wanted to, he wished he was there. He wondered if he'd be back in time for the wedding.

"Zex? You there?"

"Yes, I'm here."

Axel talked, then, about what was going on in the States- gay marriage in New York, some woman killed her kid and got away with it, a space shuttle launch; and more personal news, such as Larxene and Marluxia getting back together, Riku and Sora planning to adopt a child, Axel's plans for his bachelor party, and his not allowing Roxas to have one. Zexion listened, chest aching, then reluctantly ended the one sided conversation with, "'I have to go, now. I'm on watch."

Axel 'Aw'd his disappointment, but hung up easily enough after bantering for a moment more. "You be careful out there, Zex," he said, quite seriously, "I hear there's supposed to be some bad weather over… Where you're at." He wasn't really supposed to know where the Sailor was at, at the moment, but Zexion may or may not have let it slip in prior conversations. The slate haired youth smiled, and thanked Axel, said goodbye, and hung up. Then Zexion, left alone in the phone room, stared at the phone in his hand. With a sigh, he hung the phone back on its receiver, running a hand down his face. He loved being at sea, truly, but…

He longed for nothing more than peace.

Axel hadn't known the half of it.

The sea rolled, and the normally unconscious task of walking was suddenly an exponentially more difficult undertaking; Zexion was just thankful he was not aboard an aircraft carrier. He couldn't imagine attempting to tie down a several ton aircraft to a rolling deck awash in seawater. As it were, he was having enough difficulty getting to his post, trying to find it in the dark, despite the rolling, rain, and occasional flashing of disorienting lightning.

He knew protocol dictated he secure himself to the ship, so he wasn't thrown overboard, but the talk with Axel had taken longer than he'd thought it would- and he was going to be late if he didn't hurry. He had stopped to pick up a lifejacket on the way only because he would not be allowed on watch without it, but he'd yet to fasten it. He'd take care of that when he got there.

After a particularly steep lurch of the ship rocked Zexion, he fought to find his feet again-

And slipped.

He landed hard on his elbow, grimacing even as he tried to stop himself from sliding; the only thing separating him from the black sea was a guard rail, with two tiers. So, in reality, there was nothing stopping him from sliding off the deck of the ship.

To a thirty foot drop.

To a stormy sea.

Zexion scrambled to all fours, then to his feet, finding a bulkhead to hold on to as far inboard as possible. He looked around then, whipping his head back and forth, trying to figure out how much farther to his post he had to travel; to his surprise, and relief, it was close. Close enough, he thought ironically, that he could have spoken in a normal voice and been heard by the sentry, if it weren't for the storm.

As it were, the sentry hadn't even been aware the slate haired sailor was there.

Zexion stood, pushing off the wall, and stumbled toward the watch. He was absolutely beyond relieved, now that he'd finally be able to fasten his life jacket, and secure himself to the deck-

Another wave washed over the deck, knocked Zexion off his feet. He felt his legs give out from under him, saw the sentry- wasn't even aware Zexion was there- and thought, Damn; cryptolinguist had seemed like such a good job.

And then his head struck the deck, and Zexion didn't think any more.

He came to when he submerged.

His eyes popped open at the same time he inhaled a lungful of sea water, and he immediately tried to remedy the situation, but only made it worse. Unthinking, he tried to swim to the surface- but couldn't find it. The ocean rolled around him, and he swam in what direction he thought was up, only to be rolled and moved and tossed and turned. His vision was getting dark around the edges, and the salt stung his eyes.

Then he felt the pull.

Like the movement of water over the sand before an incoming wave; Zexion felt it pulling him, his legs, down. The sailor grasped at the water in front of him, looking for a hold, for anything to keep him from the depths. He resisted the current, kicked, swam, vomited more seawater from his lungs, but to no avail.

The current pulled and pulled, and just as Zexion was about to give up, he felt his legs surface out of the water, as if propelled.

Without thinking, he flipped himself, breaking the surface of the rolling sea to cough and sputter, gasp breaths of air and salty water. Flashes of lightning illuminated mountains towering over him, threatening to crash and return him to the depths, but at the last moment, they diverted. Thunder roared in his ears.

"Don't worry- I've got you."

Zexion knew then, that he was saved; someone from his ship, maybe even the sentry, had seen him fall. They had sent a rescue swimmer. The ship had to be nearby. Hopefully, they'd have him back on board and in medical by the time this horrible storm was over.

The slate haired youth turned to see his rescuer, and floundered in surprise.

There was no one there.

Kicking his legs to stay above the water- or close enough to the surface that he wouldn't drown- Zexion whipped around, trying to find the rescue swimmer, with no luck. He paddled in circles, noticing for the first time that he'd lost his life jacket, cursing his luck. The swimmer probably couldn't see him; whose brilliant idea had it been to supply a Navy with blue uniforms, anyway?

Zexion paddled harder as he felt a wave move around him- to his surprise, it picked him up, and he was at the top- and there was his ship, in the distance. It was getting closer, but in the momentary glance he caught, he knew something was wrong. The ship was listing badly to port; with a sinking feeling in his gut, accompanied by the sinking of the wave, the sailor was suddenly sure: the ship was taking on water.

He began swimming in the direction of the ship, but the sea became more violent around him. A wave crashed over him, and he surfaced, coughing and sputtering, having completely lost his bearing. Then he felt it again, on his leg; that current, pulling him back.

He kicked, and screamed, breathed water, coughed, tried to take a deep breath, and found more water. A wave crashed. He rolled, tried to swim up, but the current pulled him down- and his legs surfaced, again. Zexion began to panic.

No sense of direction, a vindictive sea, and he was rapidly growing tired. His tears felt hot on his cheeks.

Then, another wave crashed, and he was underwater, and he gave up, accepted his fate-

And he was being kissed.

The lips on his were hot, searing almost, and his eyes opened in surprise, but everything was blurry- a face, eyes closed, hands on his cheek, and a body, he realized, pressed against his. He couldn't breathe. He panicked, trying to push away from the person, but was unsuccessful.

Where he was shaking, struggling, the boy- for the body pressed against his was as naked as Adam- was calm.

Zexion couldn't tell what direction was up, anymore; couldn't tell where his ship was, couldn't even tell where this naked boy had come from. He was tired.

So he gave in.

As if he'd been waiting- no, expecting it- the boy kissed Zexion harder, fiercer. He prized open the sailor's mouth, and began exploring with his tongue- and to this end, Zexion found two things, the first of which, that even on the verge of death, his body was reacting to the movements of this stranger's tongue in a way that only four months of celibacy can highlight.

The second, and more important: he could breathe.

Suddenly unconcerned about literally everything else, Zexion threaded his fingers through the boy's hair, and kissed him back. He tangled his legs with the naked stranger's, and pressed closer, and kissed and breathed and could think of nothing except how he'd left his rape whistle under his rack. The boy smiled through the kiss in response to the sudden enthusiasm.

Zexion opened his eyes again, and much to his ongoing surprise, he could see clearly- the boy, blonde, with eyes the color of the peaceful ocean, had broken off the kiss and was smiling at him, and he could hear clearly; no waves, no storm, just the quiet peace he always found beneath the water.

We've met before.

The voice was deep, smooth, and Zexion knew it was from the boy in front of him. He thought, Yes, and was reminded of the reoccurring dream he had, the peaceful, boundless blue depths of water. The boy smiled again, strange blonde mullet waving in the water as he nodded.

Are you afraid?

Zexion, having long ago disregarded the absurdity of making out with a naked stranger, in an ocean during a storm, breathing under water, and speaking with his mind, genuinely considered the question.

No. Am I dead?

The blonde grinned at this.

No. Do I look like an angel?

Zexion smirked and pulled the boy in for another kiss; after all, one more couldn't hurt, could it? The boy had already begun the heated reaction in Zexion's body, and it wasn't as if anyone would know.

The sailor felt the boy grin against his lips, and he grinned back. If he was going to go crazy, he figured, he might as well go all the way. Tugging gently on the locks, he pulled the blonde back, and began attacking his neck with small nips and kisses. To his surprise, the blonde hummed.

Suddenly, he felt fingers digging into his lower back, pulling his hips against the boy's- and a strangled gasp escaped him. He was already well aware of his own arousal, having been kissing and touching and entwined with a gorgeous, naked man with wild ocean eyes. He was surprised, however, by the hard length that pressed against his own erection, and when he glanced at the blonde, he was met with a heated grin.

With a shy grin of his own, he succumbed to the madness.

He couldn't tell when they'd washed up on the beach; he couldn't tell where the beach was. But the predawn twilight found Zexion and the mysterious boy, hands entwined, naked while the warm surf tickled their toes and washed away the fruit of their efforts from sweaty, salty skin.

"So am I dead?"

The boy's eyes were closed, but at Zexion's question, they opened with a flutter as he turned his head, flashing such a smile that the slate haired youth had to remind himself to breathe. The hand he held traced circles on his thumb.

"No, you are not dead. Why? Do you wish to be?" the blonde asked with a teasing grin, which Zexion answered with one of his own. "No, I don't- I just haven't felt a peace like this since… Ever, actually. Outside of my dreams."

The blonde faced the lightening sky again, closing his ocean eyes and heaving a sigh.

"I knew you, then. You dreamt of me."

"So is this a dream, then?" It wouldn't be a surprise. The waking world held nothing like this for him.

The blonde gave an amused huff. "No, this is not a dream."

"Who are you?"

The first hint of dawn traced pink underneath receding storm clouds on the horizon, and the blonde took his time in answering. Zexion began counting heartbeats, the breath in his ears, and the tide climbing over his legs before the blonde finally answered.

"I have many names; the one you might best know me as is Poseidon, in a sense," the boy stated, halting- then, "I prefer to call myself Demyx, though."

Zexion wasn't aware of the incredulous expression he had until the blonde glanced at him and smirked.

"Do you not believe me?"

And the slate haired youth considered for a moment- he hadn't drowned when he fell off the ship. He'd made love in the ocean for what had surely been hours, and he was on the beach, naked as the day he'd been born. No, it wasn't too hard to imagine, after all.

"I do. Only…" he trailed off, letting the singing waves fill the silence. "If this isn't a dream, and I'm not dead… What will happen to me? To us both?"

Demyx didn't open his eyes; the only movement he made was to heave a deep sigh through his nose.

"Times like this," he murmured, "I figure I must have been human once, long before I remember." Zexion didn't respond as the tracing on his thumb continued, with seawater brushing sand through intertwined fingers. "All I have ever known is the sea, yet- I feel a selfishness when it comes to you that I expect would be less ill-suited on a mortal man."

The sun broke over the horizon, a deep red glow bathing the beach and lighting blue-green water as if from within. Zexion closed his eyes, letting the light wash over him even as waves tickled his bellybutton.

He thought of his friends, family; shipmates he'd known, the life that had always felt like an intermittent dream between the ethereal reality of his time with Demyx- and though a part of him wished to stay here, like this, forever, he couldn't bear the thought of letting his loved ones mourn him. Even if it was strictly platonic- he cringed from the idea of hurting those few he cherished so dearly.

"You wish to leave."

Demyx didn't so much as ask, as he did state a fact. Zexion cracked an eye to see the blonde smiling sadly.

"When you're in the water, you're with me. You don't need to say it for it to be true."

And though he'd known the boy for less than a day, the slate haired youth found a peculiar ache in his chest at the thought of leaving. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat before answering softly, "I have to let them know I'm alive."

"Do you? Could you not stay with me until all this world is nothing but dust?"

Zexion shook his head slightly, eyes closed firmly to hold at bay the tears he could feel were not far off. "I can't hurt them. Even if they will… Just be dust someday. Even if that is all any of us will ever be. I love them."

He heard another sigh as the waves traced sand over his chest. "We are about three hundred leagues from the nearest shore." A pause. "I can take you there."

Zexion opened his eyes, unsurprised to see the brilliant dawn through a haze of tears. Letting his head fall to face Demyx, he found the blonde already gazing at him with that same, sad smile.

"Will you?"

The blonde nodded, squeezing the slate haired youth's hand in his own as the surf washed around their necks.

"So long as you don't forget-"

Zexion woke on a beach surrounded by people squawking in a different language at him. The steady mist falling from a gunmetal sky settled on his skin and gave him goosebumps. The last thing he remembered was ocean eyes, and a sweet, salty kiss.

He was taken to the American embassy. He was found hundreds of miles away from where his ship had limped into port, they told him, and was one of the few unaccounted for sailors that had returned to the land of the living.

They sent him home. Immediate change of station to a permanent shore command, as he was judged unfit for deployment- the medical staff deemed his story of being rescued by a strange man in a storm a product of the stress his body had undergone. They recited that explanation by rote so many times that Zexion almost came to believe it himself.

There was a coming home party- and even if Axel denied it, there was an unusual shine to the redhead's eyes when Zexion embraced him for the first time since he'd deployed. Roxas was more composed, but his twin brother Sora had no such restraint, and bawled openly before engulfing Zexion in a bear hug. He allowed himself a smile then.

And yet.

Every day after work, he ended up on the beach or the pier. Looking out across the bay at Navy ships or staring off into the horizon, rain or shine, one way or another, he found himself near the ocean. He never went in, but he couldn't bring himself to stay away. The one time he had to, for Axel's wedding, was the hardest thing he'd had to do since…

Well, since waking up.

He hadn't had another dream of the water since he'd returned to dry land, and it seemed to him, as time passed, that things were backwards. He lived his life in surreal reverie. Before, his dreams felt like reality- with mounting desperation, he found himself wishing he could wake up- to hands intertwined, a warm, red sunrise and eyes the color of the sea. All he wished for was a glimpse, perhaps, or a taste on his tongue- and every day, he would watch people on the beach as he sat well away from the tide, so afraid that he might find out that his encounter was nothing more than a wonderful hallucination that he could not go near the water.

Like so many grains of sand, time slid through his fingers.

A hurricane was coming.

The newscasters heralded it, the ships escaped from it, and the Navy base evacuated for it. All Marines and Sailors, Soldiers and Airmen were given a free week of liberty, to return home or flee inland- whichever would remove them from the storm's path. Zexion told his chain of command he would be staying with his newly married friends in the mountains.

On the beach, harsh winds whipped sea spray and sand into Zexion's face. A scarf protected his nose and mouth from the worst of it, though he was soon soaked through, and sand occasionally stung his eyes behind his glasses. He didn't altogether mind.

The beach was deserted, as it should have been, save him.

He could not say for certain what madness possessed him; however, of one thing he was sure- today was the day.

With a deliberate slowness he toed off his shoes, leaving them in the sand as he strode to the tide's edge. He could not deny the adrenaline coursing through his veins, standing without fear in the face of such a great storm- but he was also finally, blissfully at peace. He would either die, and end the walking dream he had been living for so long, or…

He sighed as he let his hands fall out of his coat pockets. Tilting his head back, Zexion breathed deep the salty air. As the waves crashed around his knees, threatening to pull him under, he waited. Searching for a feeling, a sign, a voice- anything. The wind sang a mournful hymn, accompanied by the staccato beat of a sign behind him flapping wildly on its post, and the bass rumble of thunder far off over the ocean.

Zexion waited for a lifetime. He tried his best to recall the dream- if it was that- counting heartbeats, ocean eyes, a voice like an inexorable current below the surface, warm sunrise and a kiss sweeter than sin, saltier than the tears on his face. His heart ached, and it was there, in his chest, that he realized he'd never felt so alone. The realization crawled up his throat with scalding claws, choking him.

Then a finger brushed the back of his hand, before intertwining with his own.