This chapter came out a little bit longer, because these two just won't stop it! They made me go on for a bit more pages than I had originally intended. They ended up taking some things in a different direction than I had intended as well. The major plot details are already planned out, but all of these little minor encounters just sort of happen on their own.

The thing I'm most worried about with this chapter is that Vexen's sciencey stuff seems a bit implausible. There is no way you would be able to do the things he does with science. But I always considered his "science" to be more like half-science half-magic anyway. I also realize that part of Vexen's secret may also seem like an "excuse", and technically it is. But it's also the plot point that drives this story. No, I don't actually believe this about him. But it was just a terrible plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone.

Also, pay attention to Vexen's lectures about the "essential-heart" and "no-feelings"! It's what I'm using to define "heart" in this story and explain Nobody "emotions".

Next update is...I have no idea. But not before this entire story becomes AU in September.

I own nothing! Haha, I got Xemnas's element!

But without further adieu, enjoy the Vexiness.

(-)

Chapter 2: The Siphoning Process

SLAM!

In an instant, Marluxia found himself rocketing backwards, colliding hard and painfully against the side wall. Two large, bony claw-hands squeezed his shoulders, pinning him firmly in a vise-grip with a surprising amount of strength. In another instant, Marluxia found a face obscuring his vision, narrow green eyes flashing into his own, just above a pair of prominent cheekbones. Two long blond bangs swung down, almost brushing his chest. That face was so…twisted, snarling, furious, enraged… Marluxia was immediately stunned. He'd never seen a Nobody displaying that level of emotion on his face before. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought this man was really, truly angry with him. That face might have stricken pure fear into his own heart…it certainly looked scary enough.

"…Did you see?" Vexen all but spat into Marluxia's face.

It took all the control he'd learned in combat training to stop Marluxia from kicking him in the stomach...or another sensitive body area. Not that he could move much in the first place anyway. A failed kick would only serve to make this situation worse.

"I…I saw something," he firmly told him. "But I don't know what it was I saw."

Vexen growled with wonderfully feigned frustration, gnashing his teeth together. "You must be the neophyte, heh? So rudely bursting in here uninvited, unannounced… I'm sure I locked that door—you broke in, didn't you? You broke in to my laboratory all on your own. I'm reporting you this… You…You…"

At last, the reactionary shock in Marluxia's nerves was fading away as he watched this older man splutter with complete disbelief. He set his face into a smooth, undaunted expression. "Well, that was a lovely introduction. I have to say, you're certainly the most violent Organization member I've met. Serves you right for ignoring me. I will not be ignored."

"Ignoring you?" Vexen's left eye and his bottom lip were twitching with incredulity. "Ignoring you? You break into my lab just because you say I was ignoring you? I can't believe you would…the audacity to…"

Marluxia thought a smirk would be appropriate right now. This is so…entertaining. This guy's so…high-strung. He has the most amusing reactions. Vexen was now giving him the most convincing performance he'd yet seen of possessing a heart.

"It certainly seemed like you were ignoring me. Everyone else came up to greet me the first chance they got, but no, not you. You don't even know my name, do you?"

"It's Marluxia," Vexen filled his voice with venom as he glared back into his blue eyes. "Zexion told me all about you yesterday."

"Oh, so you're just using Zexion as your little courier boy, hmm? You're too high and mighty to come learn someone's name yourself."

Vexen growled again, but somehow managed to restrain himself from snapping straight back at him. "Listen. I don't care what this is all about or whose fault it is or any of that! The point is…that you saw me…at the tanks, didn't you?"

Marluxia raised an eyebrow, playing with him. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't-what's it to you?"

"You did! I know you did, you imbecile!" Vexen paused to take in a deep, calming breath. "Now. The point here is…now that you've seen it, I cannot allow you to leave this laboratory alive and with your freedom intact."

Marluxia leveled a challenging gaze straight back at him. No one would threaten him like that. If he wanted him dead, he was going to be sorry he ever spoke those words. Marluxia spread the fingers of his right hand and prepared to summon his scythe.

"But not to worry, I don't intend to kill you. That would only make me a traitor for eliminating one of our own members, wouldn't it?"

Vexen's grip on Marluxia's shoulders was gradually loosening, and he found he could move around a little against the wall now. But that brought the idea to his attention. If he seriously injured Vexen, would the other Organization members be angry with him? Would he be able to write it off as self-defense? No…no, now was not the time. He had to earn their trust and their approval first. Darned plots…he'd have to sacrifice a lot to be able to pull this off…

Vexen had finally composed himself and carefully removed his hands from Marluxia's shoulders, straightening to his full height…which Marluxia noticed was just over six feet. "Excuse me for treating you with such a firm hand. It is simply required in this situation. If you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into, you'd understand. Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Vexen, Number Four of the—HEY!"

Just because Marluxia couldn't attack Vexen didn't mean he still couldn't run away from him. Now that he was free, he made a dash for it during Vexen's little speech. He sprinted as fast as his legs would take him out the back door and towards the big sliding lab doors. He dodged table edges and leaped over equipment strewn over the floor as he plowed through the mist of the laboratory.

A giant glint of silver caught his eye, and he headed straight for it…until suddenly, as soon as he got close, a clear solid sheen burst into being right over the door. Once the mist had cleared enough for him to see, Marluxia realized that it was ice…a wall of thick ice had coated the doorway, preventing him from reaching it. What in the world…?

He turned his head back towards the inner lab, through the mist…to see the vague figure of Vexen standing in the back doorway, arms extended, panting a little with exhaustion. What…? Marluxia thought. He did that? But even a Blizzaga spell wouldn't be able to create a sheet of ice like this. Is that…his element? Ice? …Darn it. My flowers won't be able to cut through that.

"H-Halt!" Vexen's shaky, strained, high-pitched voice called out, even as his legs were shaking, threatening to give out on him. He had to detain Marluxia, no matter what…no matter if he suffered. Everything depended on this! "You will not leave this lab until I've finished with you. I am prepared to do…everything in my power to keep you here until the time is right. Do you understand?"

Marluxia snorted, a noise he found perfectly appropriate to express the absurdity of this situation. "How pathetic. A mere sheet of ice won't stop me. Although my power is useless against it, you're forgetting that I still have my weapon!"

He extended one arm, spreading his palm and calling his scythe to him. A small concentration of yellow particles began to gather in his hand…and then, suddenly, they scattered again, zooming off in every direction, until they simply fizzled out, like embers. "What the…?"

"Weapons are forbidden inside the laboratory." The smirk on Vexen's face now only made Marluxia want to march over there and knock his lights out even more. "I have suppressed the magic particles used in weapon summons within these walls. It prevents them from congregating. Instead of coming together and forming into your weapon, the particles react to the negative gaseous anti-particles I've spread across the room. They simply scatter whenever they get near each other. The same goes for me, of course, but it's a small sacrifice to pay." It was entirely necessary to develop an anti-weapons barrier in this lab, considering how many times Xigbar has laid waste to it with those silly energy-guns of his. Speaking of which, I really should weapons-proof my facilities at Castle Oblivion as well.

Marluxia ground his teeth. Dammit. Ah, well. He said he's going to let me go eventually, though, right? But…what is he going to do with me in that time?

Vexen was trembling even more violently now…he knew that if he didn't get somewhere soon to rest, he was going to collapse-he'd used far too much energy in the past ten minutes—but he couldn't let this uppity little neophyte see his weakness.

Firstly, he reached over to a switch in the side of the left wall, turning on a giant vented fan in the ceiling, which promptly began to suck up the lingering smoke from his last experiment. Soon, the visibility was returning, and Marluxia could really see how big the lab was, and how much…junk it was filled with. Piles of papers and discarded knickknacks were sitting in heaps on the floor, near desks. More tables and machines that he hadn't noticed before came into view. The whole room was a lot wider than he'd initially thought. A miniature library was stacked against the far right wall, and a few smaller tank-devices were sitting in the corners of the left.

Vexen moved carefully forward to a long table near the center of the room, gripping the end of one chair to steady himself. "Sit," he commanded, leaving no room for argument. "We have much to discuss."

As much as it pained Marluxia to follow these orders, he grudgingly consented that he really didn't have a choice in the matter. Not if he wanted to build up a good standing with the Organization. This was a bad idea, he told himself, as he made his way to the table, skirting around a few boxes of supplies. A very bad idea. I never expected Vexen to be like this.

They sat down at the table across from each other, and Vexen had to rest his forehead in his hand for a few moments to wait for his light-headedness to pass. His eyes burned for a second, then, gradually, the pain faded away…though he still felt a little bit dizzy and disoriented.

Marluxia only glared over at him. With the smoke gone, and now at a good distance, he could finally get a long, appraising look at his final teammate. From the front, Vexen looked much more…old. He looked the same age as Xigbar, if not even older, and right now there was a strange grey tinge to his face. His coat was baggy on him, there were dark bruises below his eyes, and the ends of his front two bangs looked frazzled. He looks a little worse for the wear, he thought. If I wanted to, I could beat him in a regular old fistfight right now. But I can't. Poor baby…

Part of him looked down on Vexen…but strangely enough, another part was reacting in a much more positive way. It was like part of his brain was telling him to help him. Help him? Pssh, why would I want to help him? He's the one who's keeping me in this state. But for whatever reason, just looking at him made him want to…do something to help. He couldn't stand looking at this…withering shell of a man.

Vexen pinched the bridge of his nose and regained his bearings, though he still felt woozy and wished he could go lie down for a good ten minutes. He sighed. "As I was saying, before you so rudely ran off on me… I am this Organization's Number Four. I expect to be treated as such. Your behavior today was entirely unacceptable, and under normal circumstances, I would report you to the Superior immediately. However, due to our rather unique situation, I will pardon you for entering my lab unauthorized. What I am about to tell you, you must not repeat to anyone else, either within the Organization or outside of it. It is classified information of the highest order. I would let you off without telling you at all, but I know if I didn't, you'd just run off to Saïx or Xigbar or some other buffoon and ask them about what you've seen today. And I can't have that."

A secret so classified that no one else in the Organization even knows about it? Marluxia considered. This could really be useful information…but then again, why does no one else in the Organization know about it?

He folded his arms over the table, meeting Vexen's eyes, challengingly. "Oh? And why not? Are you doing something down here against their wishes? Planning on betraying the rest of the Organization, hmm?"

"I am not a traitor!" Vexen had to restrain himself from leaping out of his seat and slamming the table with pretend rage. Sometimes his emotional memories were a bit too strong and he ended up going overboard with his reactions. Apparently, his Other had been a very emotionally sensitive person. "If you would allow me to explain…"

"Since you need to explain it, that leads me to believe you're doing something illicit."

"Will you just listen and stop making such needless and preposterous assumptions?"

Marluxia finally just decided to back off. He'd never get out of here if he kept delaying Vexen's drawn-out spiel. And if he kept on taunting him, the poor old man was liable to burst a blood vessel. It's fascinating, though, he couldn't help thinking. For a Nobody to display so much emotion… He made some really interesting expressions, too. Just watching Vexen was somehow entertaining.

Vexen took another deep breath, forcing his memories back down into the back of his mind. "Xemnas knows. These are his orders. He and I are the only ones who know. It is a transaction between us. A project…a mission, if you will."

Marluxia blinked, and Vexen could sense that he wasn't entirely getting this information straight. He sighed. "I am the last remaining scientific researcher and practitioner within the Organization. Most of my time is spent doing extensive research on the properties of the heart and performing experiments which can help us come closer to understanding the ways of the heart and obtaining hearts of our own. Currently, our only feasible method for obtaining hearts is through the use of Kingdom Hearts. I assume the other Organization members have already told you about Kingdom Hearts."

Marluxia nodded. The Organization's goal—to obtain control of Kingdom Hearts, the congregation of the universe's hearts, and obtain hearts of their own. To do that, they needed to feed hearts into it, call forth enough hearts to summon Kingdom Hearts into existence…then fill it with enough hearts for it to be at full power. However, they currently had no way of doing that.

"Xemnas has asked me to create replicas—human-like clones, if you will—of the ones chosen to wield the Keyblade. A replica with the ability to use the Keyblade will be able to collect hearts for us. However, it is extremely difficult to create such exact, perfect beings. To create lives…out of nothing more than a few tiny strands of DNA. The human body is a complicated enough system to exactly simulate…and the human brain is more advanced than any computer. It is far more complicated to create life than just to construct a palette of separate body parts and assemble them. I am dealing with real organic material here, not a metallic robot. …Are you following me, neophyte?"

"Ah, what?" Marluxia's head snapped back around. His eyes had wandered off to examine the rest of the room, silently wondering what some of the more complicated machinery was used for. As far as he knew, after the word "Keyblade", the rest of his rant was entirely irrelevant.

Vexen groaned, leaning against the table and massaging his temples. Not only was he still weak from energy drain, but he was also beginning to get a terrible headache. "Well, no matter. The important part you need to remember is this… What you saw today were my two prototypes for the replicas. I have been working on them for quite a while…even within the life of my Other, I was researching the possibilities of human cloning without the use of a mother organism. Within those two tanks lie my most precious creations."

"So what the heck were you doing to them?" Marluxia tried to prod the explanations along, before Vexen got lost on another long ramble about his previous life. "It looked like you were zapping them with magic!"

"…Well, yes…" Vexen's piercing green eyes turned away from Marluxia's now, staring down into the tiles of the floor. "From your perspective, it would seem that way, wouldn't it?"

Uh, yeah. No kidding. For someone who was supposed to be a scientific genius, Vexen sure was stupid sometimes.

He took another deep breath, folding his hands together over the tabletop and gathering his courage to look Marluxia in the eye again. "…The process is called 'siphoning'."

Strangely enough, after he'd begun, the reactionary tension began to lift from his shoulders and he almost felt… relieved. Marluxia noticed this sudden change in attitude as well. Now it was almost like…he wanted to talk about it. He'd been holding it inside him for so long that now, it was a relief just to have someone else feeling its burden.

"It's necessary in order to create any kind of semi-human life without the use of a mother organism. Life cannot just come into being out of nowhere-it needs another life to sustain it in its weeks of initial development. I've discovered a type of "life force" particle that exists in organic matter. It's used to create Potions, if you must know. In that case, they use plants and sometimes small animals. But the creation of a human life requires the specific properties that only come from a human-typed life force."

Marluxia's eyes widened just a little as he was starting to put the pieces together. Life force…magic…creations… "So you've been using yourself...?"

"Correct." Vexen nodded, distantly. "Creating these replicas requires a sacrifice of my own life force. I've been siphoning it constantly since my previous life. Naturally, it takes a toll on my body—losing life force is the same as losing time from your life. In the years of actual time, my age is 26. But by now, I have lost a total of 16 years, and in the years of the state of my organic material, I am 42. By my calculations and the rate at which these projects will take to complete, I have about 25 years of time left to live. Of course, that depends on the success rate of these current projects, and if I'll be required to take on any other similar projects in the future. Then I would set my time limit at 18 years the most."

"So you're actually 26?" Marluxia was a bit blown away by this revelation.

"Exactly. My body only appears older as a result of the siphoning process and the life force I have lost."

"But…but they can't…Xemnas ordered you to do that?"

"He didn't order me specifically to drain my life force, but he did order the creation of the replicas. He knows about the siphoning process and approves of it."

"Isn't that the same as ordering you dead?" Marluxia wasn't really sure why this fact was nagging at him…but it was completely unfair. It wasn't right, it was injustice, it was callousness…it was Xemnas using his position as Superior to take advantage of his subordinates…using them as an energy source. And from what he knew…what he remembered about the world…he wasn't going to stand for that. He clenched his hands into fists, suddenly rising from the table. "He can't do that! He just can't do that! As a Nobody, without that process you're going through, you'd live forever. He can't just take your life away like that!"

"And suddenly you care?" Vexen gave him a skeptical look with half-lidded eyes. "A few minutes ago, you couldn't wait to rip me apart with a giant scythe."

"I-I wouldn't agree to it, no matter who in the Organization it was. It's not right!"

"And therein lies the problem." Vexen reached across the table as if to grab Marluxia's hand and force him back down, though he couldn't reach. Marluxia noticed and grudgingly complied. This was just so pathetic. Though he still couldn't leave the lab, because the sheet of ice was in the way. "If you tell any of the other members, they might protest it. They might put a stop to it. Especially if Zexion or Lexaeus found out. Both of them still hold fond memories of my Other. The three of our past selves were friends…"

"And what's so bad about that?" Marluxia was protesting right now. "You can't just let Xemnas use people like that! We're supposed to be an Organization, aren't we? What kind of Organization sacrifices its own members?"

"Come now. There's no need for such a display." Vexen waved a hand at him again, as if trying to get him to calm down.

Heh, talk about the pot calling the kettle black…

"This is just the sort of disaster we need to avoid. Imagine if everyone else in the Organization reacted in the same way. We'd have a mass mutiny on our hands. Imagine the treachery, the bloodshed…it would fracture us completely. Plus, without the Replica Project, we might never be able to obtain our own hearts."

"What good is a heart?" Marluxia questioned—the first time he'd ever really thought about it. "Why is having a heart so important? Why do all of you want hearts?"

"Hearts are very powerful," Vexen explained, giving him the barebones theory. "With a heart, you'd be able to feel. You remember your Other's life, of course, and he could feel...you remember emotions…but you cannot recall the feel of those emotions. With a heart, you will be able to do things…get angry, be happy, feel the bittersweet pain of sorrow, fall in love…be a human. Be a complete being."

Marluxia briefly closed his eyes and tried to imagine this "feel". It was difficult, but he thought he could almost call it up…as if it was lying just out of reach. Suddenly, he had the terrible sense that something was missing from him. Like there was a giant plug inside him, screwed on tight and preventing this "feel" from bursting through. Hearts…that was what it was. He was missing his heart. Hearts were power… The power to rise above it all…to be in control...the power to live…

"I want…a heart," he whispered, finally realizing it for himself. "I need a heart."

"We all do," Vexen replied, giving him an eyes-rolled expression as if to say, "I should think you'd have already discovered that." "If you want a heart and if you want everyone else to be able to receive a heart as well…you will let me go through with this."

Marluxia took a deep breath, settling back down into his seat and anchoring himself firmly back into reality. He had to get out of here as soon as possible. Once again, his entire world had been rocked, and something had been changed inside him…but now wasn't the time to take a few hours and think it through. He'd be trapped in this dingy, smelly laboratory all night, and it was getting late already. There were bound to be more missions for him in the morning…and he'd wanted some time to himself before going to bed. This whole "heart" business could wait…he just had to take care of this Vexen issue for now.

"Okay," he immediately replied, though a part of his insides squeezed tight. "Fine. Go on with your suicide mission. What does it matter to me? Besides being completely unjustified, of course. But if you want to kill yourself, that's your business."

Vexen moved to massaging his forehead…his headache was really escalating now. Dammit, he resented. I'm going to have to take an aspirin after this. "I can tell you're lying. I can tell you don't really care about me…but you care a lot about putting a stop to our Superior's practices. If I let you go, you're going to tell someone about it, and there's nothing I can do about it…unless I bind you to it."

Bind me to it? Marluxia pictured all kinds of "binding" processes—contracts, blood oaths, burns, curses… Lumaira had had to sign a contract before… It was a contract he'd regretted…just before his memories faded. He wasn't going to let this happen to him again.

Vexen moved, carefully and slowly, to a metal desk next to the table they were seated at. He picked up a syringe, opened one desk drawer, and pressed the needle down into something inside. When he pulled back and made his way back into his seat, he was holding a needle filled with opaque liquid.

Marluxia fixed his eyes on it, pointedly giving it a suspicious look. He knew this guy was a scientist, but did he have to solve everything with some kind of freaky chemical?

"This is a contractual serum," Vexen began to explain, raising the syringe higher and watching Marluxia's eyes follow. "Though I doubt it matters to you what it's called. No matter what I say, you're going to think it's some kind of poison."

"And how are you going to prove it's not poison?" Marluxia asked. "Do I have to wait another two hours for some kind of chemical test?"

"No," Vexen firmly stated. "Because I'm using it on myself, too."

Quickly and effortlessly, he lifted his left sleeve, inserted the needle into his exposed upper arm, pushed half of the liquid inside, and removed it. Marluxia couldn't help but gawk a little at his utter disregard for the needle…it was as if he'd just flicked a hair off his shoulder or something. He reached into one pocket and pulled out his gloves, along with a handful of sanitizing wipes and sprays, and he proceeded with cleaning and removing the blood and skin particles from the needle's tip.

"This is a type of chemical which-"

"Isn't that unsanitary?" Marluxia wrinkled his nose at the needle. "I know you're cleaning it and all, but aren't you supposed to never re-use needles on someone else? What if…you have AIDS?"

Vexen paused to give him another incredulous "what am I going to do with this idiot" look. "I do not have AIDS. What in this nonexistent world gave you that idea? And normally, yes, I would use a second needle, but if you'd just let me finish explaining, you'd understand why, in this case, the sharing of the needle is important."

He finished wiping the skinny pointed tip off. "Give me your arm."

"Aren't you going to explain first?"

"You missed your chance. Give me your arm."

Marluxia grumbled and complained to himself, but finally just rolled up his sleeve and slid his arm over the table. If this crazy serum of his did anything to hurt him, he'd be going straight to Saïx. He'd say that he'd run into Vexen in the lower hallways while he'd been going down to the library to further his knowledge and the man had gone psycho on him. He'd make sure he received an equal or greater amount of pain in consequence.

There was a tiny sharp pinch as Vexen pierced his skin with the needle, emptying the rest of its contents into his bloodstream, and Marluxia cringed, just for effect.

"Would you like a band-aid?" Vexen snickered as he removed the needle and carefully wrapped it up. "Pink with flowers on it, maybe?"

Marluxia pulled his arm away, yanking his sleeve down. It was time to get serious again. "All I need is for you to tell me what the hell you just did to me…because believe me, old man, if it is intended to harm me in any way, you will sorely regret this moment."

Vexen simply shook his head as he pocketed his needle—he'd deal with putting this stuff away later. "It will not harm you as long as you do not let it. Inside of both of us now is my specially-made contractual serum. It is made from a substance whose molecules are very tightly bound…they want to join back together whenever they are separated. I have modified this substance to be time-released, so that these molecules are only active for two hours each day. That means…"

Marluxia stared after him, a tiny reaction of panic welling up in his chest. "For two hours each day…we have to…"

"Be near each other, yes," Vexen finished. "Otherwise, the molecules will cause us both great pain as they try to get closer to their counterparts. For two hours each day…you will now be my new lab assistant."

"…Oh." Marluxia banished the terrifying images that had been flooding through his head. "I was thinking of something else."

"What else would you think I had in mind?"

"Oh…nothing." I'm never telling him that. Oh, God, no…

"This will be my way of keeping tabs on you. If you so much as utter a word against me to anyone else, the serum will react negatively, and may severely injure you. Of course, it works the same way for me, and I will be unable to speak ill of you to others either."

This is just preposterous, Marluxia thought. He can force me to be his lab assistant and to keep quiet about him just by using some injection? Maybe he's bluffing…just trying to scare me into doing what he wants rather than face this imagined "pain". He probably just injected us with water. But I'll go along with it…just so I can get out of here already.

"And now you can go, as you've so desperately wanted to do for the past half hour," Vexen announced, as if reading his mind. He raised one hand and carefully removed his ice-barrier. "I expect to see you back here tomorrow at around the same time today."

"Yeah, sure," Marluxia glanced at a clock on the far wall and read the time—9PM. Like he'd be coming back here tomorrow at 9PM. "I never want to see this place again."

Then, before Vexen had a chance to reply, he turned and strode confidently out the re-opened sliding door, never looking back.

Vexen stared after him, fixing his eyes on the closed metal door in the spot where he'd disappeared. This was probably a very bad idea, he realized. I'm going to have to put up with that for two hours every day. But it was the only solution I could think of. Desperate situations call for very drastic and sacrificial measures. As long as the serum works as tested, and he never tells any of the others...the Project is far too important to be stopped by something like this.

Vexen groaned again, long and low, finally relaxing his body and letting his weakness show. His head sank onto the table, and right now, he didn't even have the energy to pick himself up and relocate to his lab cot.

But maybe, he thought, just dimly aware, it's a good thing he's coming back. I'm going to need the help now… And with that, he fell unconscious right then and there…and didn't wake up again until almost seven o' clock the next evening.

(-)

Three beetles crawled up the wooden frame-posts, shifting their little brown bodies to and fro. There was a layer of dust and dirt-crud wedged in between the walls and floorboards. Toes pressed into the black-spotted wood floor, toenails bare and glossy. A half-ripped, half-crumpled paper was stuck to the wall with a wad of gum, the days of the week written across the top in big, loopy script. A chart…a schedule.

A light thumping and the drop in the ground announced the arrival of a round-faced boy, his face confused, worried, slightly fearful. A squeaky little voice chattered out of him, while a slightly deeper, calmer one replied in a perfectly even tone. "Squeeak-weeek wiik squeakity squeakity wiiiiiiiik!"

And then other fragments of images zoomed past him, brushing his ears. Memories within memories. Pain. Exhaustion. Fear. It's not that scary. They tell them it's scarier than it really is. Coldness. Hardness. Pain. Heat. Cold. Emotional…emotional pain. He tried to turn away, but he couldn't. He couldn't…because he'd bonded himself to his own eternal misery.

(-)

Marluxia didn't sleep very well that night. He kept having dreams about that wretched Lumaira's past life, and they kept waking him up. Dreams of things he really didn't care to remember. It wasn't as if they actually bothered him, being a Nobody…but they were just annoying and persistent, and Marluxia resented the constant reminders of how pathetic he had been as a human. It was probably because of his encounter with Vexen. A few things last night had stirred up these unwanted memories…and now, he had to work to get them to go away.

Marluxia sat on the edge of his bed, naked, rubbing his blurry eyes and shaking his head, trying to banish them into the back of his mind. Curse that man… he thought. This is all his fault.

And, strangely enough, that seemed to work. The memories faded as he focused on how much he disliked Vexen, and he found that if he just kept himself focused on hating the creepy scientist, they wouldn't come back. I hate him…I hate him…I hate him, I hate him…

He repeated this mantra over and over as he got dressed, groomed himself, and made his way down the castle's nearly endless hallways. He joined several other Organization members for breakfast in the Fruitless Mess Hall (which thankfully, wasn't literally fruit-less), and made his way to the Grey Area along with Lexaeus, Axel, Xigbar, and Luxord. They'd all been called in for missions the previous day—except for Xigbar, who was just tagging along as usual.

But noticeably absent from both breakfast and mission assignments…was Vexen. There had been quite a bit of conversation about him over the hall tables, with Zexion patiently reassuring everyone that he'd be up in another day or two. Marluxia just blocked it out by spooning his oatmeal into his mouth, aggressively, while repeating "hate, hate, hate, hate…"

Nevertheless, he received his inevitable partner during mission assignments. Axel and Lexaeus were being put on patrol in a new world, while Marluxia was being paired with Luxord to balance the Heartless population of Twilight Town. The two of them were supposed to eliminate or release new Heartless in order to create an ideal environment of them—for instance, eliminating any excess Purebloods and releasing any emblem Heartless, if they were found to be scarce.

It was a pretty boring, mundane mission, and soon, Marluxia found himself settling into the rhythm of counting Heartless and swiping away the extras with his scythe. And unfortunately, this left him plenty of time to think. Luxord attempted to make polite conversation, asking him how his current missions were going, how he was getting along with everyone, telling him about his first experiences in the Organization...but Marluxia's mind just wasn't there. Even as he swiped through a Mega-Shadow with a swift scythe slash, he couldn't stop thinking about what had occurred yesterday. Whenever he looked at Luxord, he couldn't help remembering what he'd told him before—"You will make a terrible mistake which can never be undone". That mistake…was that "mistake" breaking into Vexen's lab? He really didn't want to think of it that way, but…something was just telling him that it was.

Marluxia watched a flutter of colorful objects slamming into a small group of Shadows out of the corner of his eye. "Hmm." Luxord stepped back, cards flying back into his hand, and rested his bearded chin in his hand. "That seems to be the last of them. Good work, chap. You'll be ready for your first solo mission tomorrow."

Marluxia nodded, trying to be friendly. "I feel ready, after today. Thank you."

Luxord leveled his gaze at him, but said nothing as they made their way back to the dark corridor.

Marluxia had decided to use this sort of "buttering up" strategy to win over the lower Organization members, and so far it seemed to be working. It had worked on Axel and Demyx…it had worked on Xaldin and Xigbar…and now, it seemed to be working on Luxord as well. Zexion was the only one who was wary and suspicious of his words…and no one knew or cared what Lexaeus thought, because he always went together with Zexion on everything anyway. And Vexen just wasn't even worth trying.

When they stepped out of their dark corridor and back into the Grey Area, the first thing Marluxia heard was Axel's annoying, cocky voice complaining loudly to Saïx about something. "No—no. I'm not going back there. Seriously. That place is a freak-house. Poor Lex here almost lost his breakfast."

Lexaeus frowned. "I simply stated that its scent was repulsive."

"Yeah, so big guy almost spiffs his biscuits, and as you can imagine, I started panicking, and one of the residents almost noticed us because he was hiding behind a-"

"I understand, Axel, there's no need for further elaboration. Next time I'll send someone better suited to the job."

"Better suited?" Axel fumed. "How can there be anyone better suited? You know what I had to do! The horrors we had to face when we-"

Saïx swiftly held up one hand, silencing him. "There will be no further discussion. That's final. I am leaving the passageway open, and I can assure you that you will never be placed on a mission to that area again."

Axel's shoulders slumped slightly, but he finally just accepted defeat and turned to stalk off back to one of the recreational rooms. "Alright, but don't expect anyone else to enjoy that hellhole of a world…"

Lexaeus stood there a moment, staring after him, before he noticed Marluxia and Luxord at the corridor entrance and strode silently off back to his room.

Saïx gave a small "hmph" at the whole ordeal before turning to address them. "Ah. Numbers Ten and Eleven. I trust your mission went better than that."

"Oh, yes," Luxord assured him. "It was a swift and simple task. Number Eleven performed excellently."

Why did he have to use my number right then? It's like he's trying to hang onto his authority as higher than me… Ha. He knows I outclassed him.

"Indeed," Marluxia added. "It was a task below my considerable skills."

Saïx looked at him a little bit longer than he would have liked. "Well. Glad to hear it. We'll be sending you out on your first mission alone tomorrow, and it'll be good to know your 'skills' are up to the task."

Marluxia nodded. "I will not disappoint you."

Saïx dismissed them, and Luxord turned, immediately beginning to walk away…but Marluxia quickly reached out to grab his sleeve. He turned around instantly, a somewhat confused and alarmed expression wrinkling his fuzzy face.

"Wait a minute, Luxord," he spoke, purposely using his name to offset his previous use of his own number, and gently letting go of his sleeve. "Would you mind doing another card reading for me?"

Luxord's blue eyes glanced sideways at him suspiciously.

"I'm just curious what they have in store for me next, that's all. Might as well practice your craft on me a little, right?" He tried to make it sound like he didn't really believe in his predictions—that the last one hadn't really come to pass…which he didn't really believe anyway. But if he could use Luxord's "ability" to help him avoid another "mistake", it was worth it.

"Well," Luxord finally agreed, "then certainly. Give me just a moment…"

He shuffled his deck of cards and made his way to one of the Grey Area's long tables to lay them on its top. Then, he picked up five cards from the top of his deck and fanned them out in his hand. Marluxia watched closely, yet aloofly, as he brought them close to his face and scrutinized them for a minute.

"…The cards are unclear," he finally announced, succinctly pulling them together again.

Marluxia let himself give him a disgusted expression. "What? You mean it failed?"

"I mean it's unclear," Luxord repeated. "The path ahead of you is unclear. It's clouded and muddled. It may be good or it may be bad. Who knows?"

"That was helpful," Marluxia quipped, enjoying the sarcasm in his voice. "You could've told me that without the cards. It means absolutely nothing!"

Luxord shrugged, shooting him a warning glare. "You're the one who asked for the bloody reading."

"And you could've given me a 'bloody reading'. That was not a reading."

"I give up," Luxord gathered up his deck again and stormed to the Grey Area's entrance hallway. "It's a good thing you're on your own tomorrow." And then he disappeared into the hall's dark depths.

Maybe I was a little too confrontational, Marluxia admitted. Oh, well. I don't have to work with him again tomorrow. Hopefully, from now on, they'll start pairing me with someone higher up…like Xaldin.

Marluxia only glanced over his shoulder at the still stationary Saïx against the back glass panel. His yellow eyes flashed out at him between his shaggy blue hair clumps. He'd seen everything, of course…but right now, Marluxia didn't even care. He flipped his own bangs a little with one hand…and strode right on out, after Luxord. He wasn't going to let anyone intimidate him…

And that means no one, he confirmed, as the image of Vexen's face once again flooded his memory.

(-)

Marluxia found himself incredibly bored that afternoon, and that was never a good thing. A bored Nobody was a dangerous Nobody, as Vexen, Zexion, and Xaldin had discovered on numerous occasions when they'd returned from a hard day at work to find their laboratory full of bullet-holes, their dictionary collection on fire, or their exercise room flooded up to the waist. Luxord hadn't been around long enough to bother yet…and no one dared mess with Lexaeus…or Saïx, for that matter. Nevertheless, Marluxia found a somewhat more constructive way of dealing with his boredom…and one that wouldn't anger his comrades, surprisingly.

He was exploring the empty rooms next to his own bedroom, assessing their size and the quality of their walls…the number of windows. The bare rooms echoed nicely and somewhat disturbingly as he knocked against their walls, pounded their floors with his boots, and tested the shutters of their windows. He'd decided that he would claim one of them for his own, regardless of whether Saïx approved or not. After all, most of the other Organization members had their own "place". Xaldin had his exercise room, Demyx had his music room, Zexion had his library, Xigbar had his…whatever that was, and Vexen had his laboratory…

I hate that man… Marluxia had to remind himself when the scientist poked at the edges of his mind again. Hate, hate hate… he repeated, until he disappeared.

He returned his attention to picking out a room to claim as his own creative space. The room on the far-east was too cramped, the one right next to his bedroom didn't have any windows, and the one next to that one had three windows, but its floor was rather creaky and there were tiny worn holes in the baseboards of the walls.

Finally, he decided on the largest room in his hallway, even though it only had two windows. It would serve his purposes just fine. As he stood in the center and surveyed the size and view, he realized he wouldn't be able to do anything today…but he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it.

First, I need to get Lexaeus to fill this room with soil… take some water from the mess hall's kitchen, or get Demyx to fill a barrel or two for me. Have some lamps installed…I'm not sure how I'm going to get that done yet… But everything should be fine. With my power, really, I don't even need the lights. The hardest part was going to be getting Lexaeus and possibly Demyx to comply. Marluxia paused to think. I might need to show them some kind of proof that Saïx approves of my project. And Lexaeus is the one who barely talks. My flattery isn't going to work on him. It may work on Demyx, however. He'd have to give this some more thought. If all else failed, he might actually have to go and appeal to Saïx. And after my last little tiff with Luxord, I need some way of getting back into his good graces again.

It looked like "Project Garden" would have to be placed on hold for now. But at least he had a good head start…and he'd successfully dealt with his boredom without destroying anything.

Marluxia marked the doorway to his future garden with a tiny vine, wrapping it around the doorknob like some kind of ribbon, a little pink flower appearing at its end. As an added bonus, the flower was poisonous, and so anyone entering the room without his permission would be getting a thimble-full of burning acid right in the face. It was pretty much useless now, since there was nothing in the room at this time to ransack, but at least he could be sure that no one else would stumble across this room and try to claim it for themselves.

Marluxia smirked a bit with satisfaction as he made his way back to his room. Things were finally looking up again. And for the moment, Vexen and the contractual serum were the furthest things from his mind…

(-)

At around 8:50 that night, Marluxia stashed away a clipboard he'd been aimlessly writing on and rubbed his left ear. There was an odd ringing in it and he'd begun to wonder if Nobodies were even capable of catching things like ear infections. As far as he knew, they were still semi-human and physical in every way, aside from that whole "fading back to Darkness" thing. But where could he have picked up an ear infection anyway?

He decided to just ignore it for now—it was almost time to get ready for bed anyway. Marluxia stretched out on his bed and started to get comfortable…but by 8:55, the stinging in his ear had gotten so bad that he was rubbing it constantly…and now his left arm was beginning to ache.

God, what is this? He wondered, as he pressed on his inner earlobe. Something I did during today's mission? It wasn't that strenuous. And why would it make my ear hurt anyway? Maybe I pulled a muscle in my arm, but my ear…?

Quickly, he created a cotton flower in one hand, ripped out its fluffy fiber and stuffed it in his ear. It didn't help much. In fact, it was just scratchy and uncomfortable, because it was unrefined cotton, full of seeds and plant material. And he probably looked ridiculous. But Marluxia didn't even care now, because he wanted his free hand to rub his left arm.

However, as he massaged it and massaged it…it only seemed to be growing more painful. "Ow…"

The clock on his wall read "8:59"…and the dull ache in his arm had escalated into a sharp burning, which was beginning to spread into his chest and torso area. What the hell? He thought, slightly curling his legs up in an effort to minimize the pain. It feels like there's something trying to eat through my skin like some kind of…acid…

And that's when he remembered…just as the clock struck 9PM, and a terrible wave of stabbing pain rippled through his body.

"Aaargh!" Marluxia couldn't help but cry out, immediately clenching his teeth together again to prevent another weak scream from escaping his mouth. The burning was everywhere now…hot, sharp, burning pain. Damn that man! Damn him…damn him! I'll never forgive him for this!

He was in too much pain now to think clearly, but at any other time, he might have been surprised that this "contractual serum" was actually working…that Vexen had been telling him the truth about it. But Marluxia wasn't just going to give in and sink himself to comply with his demands.

With a grunt, he clamped his hands firmly over the base-boards of his bed, forcing his body down into the mattress. I don't care! He furiously thought. I'm staying right here! I'm not coming to him. If this chemical makes him feel the same pain as I do, then I'll make him come to me!

"Rrrrrgh…urrrrrrrrrgh!" Marluxia's face twisted in a terrible agonized expression that he was glad no one could see. It was one minute after, and it felt as if he was being skinned alive by a white-hot knife. His legs began to tremble, all on their own.

What's going to happen to me? He briefly wondered. Is this chemical going to burst out of me? Rip through my veins? That's what it feels like. His hands were growing weak with pain, and they fell away from the baseboard. But it didn't matter at this point—the last thing in the world Marluxia wanted to do was move.

9:03…and Marluxia's body was convulsing. Tiny tears were beginning to squeeze out of the corners of his eyes, but there was no way he could even think about caring. He'd just let them roll down all they wanted. In fact, they seemed to be helping, if only a tiny smidgeon.

He tucked himself into a tiny, trembling, writhing ball on his bed. This felt so familiar…so terribly, terribly familiar. The memories flooded his head again…Welted holes on his back, singed black skin on the bottoms of his feet, sharp zings shooting down his arms, up his neck, the simple popping of bones cracking, being crushed, being forced into unnatural shapes.

More involuntary tears slipped down Marluxia's smooth cheeks, and he held his body tight, though it felt like every inch of him was covered in enormous spiky needles. How is that old man not dead by now?

And as the clock clicked to 9:04, he found himself suddenly lucid enough for a moment to think. Wait…what if he is dead? Would this chemical have stopped working? Or is it just going to keep doing this to me until I go pick up his dead body?

Suddenly, he was unsure. He was wavering… If he's actually dead now, I could be waiting in agony like this for another two hours. And before he even had a chance to debate with himself any further, his body was automatically deciding for him and rolling itself off the bed, onto the floor.

Marluxia was in so much pain now that the drop didn't even faze him. He began to crawl…slowly, agonizingly, to the door of his room, weakly pushing it open with one free hand. "Rrrrrgh…" he moaned, dragging his pathetic wriggling body out into the hall. How in the universe was he going to get this sack of searing flesh all the way down the hall and down five flights of stairs? But right now, he couldn't even stop to think about it. He just had to do it.

Marluxia extended his trembling arms and slowly gripped onto the floor with them…pulling himself forward. Slowly, gradually, and very painfully, he dragged himself down the hall, moving at the speed of an ancient tortoise, occasionally grunting and groaning with effort.

He was almost at the end of the hall, to his great relief…when suddenly, Demyx appeared, stepping into it, probably on his way to the small balcony that was located at the end of the hall. His eyes widened when he saw Marluxia on the floor, his mouth dropping open a little. But Marluxia neither cared nor had the energy to try to say something to him. He just pulled himself forward again, and Demyx carefully stepped over him…turning to stare at him as he crawled into the stair-tower, groaning with pain.

Selfish bastard, Marluxia snarled as he crawled himself down the first set of stairs. He didn't even bother saying "are you okay" or offer to help or anything.

It took Demyx a full two minutes to stop gawking at the incapacitated Marly before he could pick his jaw up off the floor and get back to the balcony.

To Marluxia's great relief, once he reached the third floor, the pain in his legs had lessened enough to allow him to stand up again. He still had to hunch over and grip tightly to the railing, since the rest of his torso was still stabbing with pain, but at least now he could move more quickly and in not such a humiliating position.

He growled as he made his way carefully down to the second floor like a ninety-year-old woman. If Vexen isn't dead when I get there, he soon will be.

At least now, with each floor he descended, he could look forward to a release of pain. On the second floor, his arms felt normal again. By the first floor, he could stand up straight again…and finally, when he reached the basement, the pain had faded away into an overall ache, as if he'd only been exercising a bit too long. Once he stepped down the last set of stairs to the second basement, he was back to just a mildly annoying ear-sting.

Marluxia grinned to himself and flexed his arms for a few seconds, getting used to their pain-free use again. Now was the moment he'd been waiting for. He'd march up to the laboratory door, slam it open to discover the old man crumpled on the cluttered floor, barely alive. Then, he'd whisper something threatening and eternally memorable into his ear before stabbing a blood-red rose into his chest and finishing him off. Now that would be justice.

Marluxia prepared a smug and triumphant smile for his moment of victory and strode to the large metal lab door with every fiber of confidence.

But as soon as he lifted one hand…the door slammed open by itself, so quickly, he could almost feel the rush of air lift his bangs. And there…just on the other side…was a rather irate-looking Vexen, one hand still pressed to the door, the other on his hip.

Crap.

"Well." The elder's voice was filled with purposeful superiority. "You certainly took your sweet time. What were you trying to do, kill me?"

Marluxia quickly recovered from his initial shock and gave him a suave look. "That was the idea."

"Sorry to disappoint." Vexen stood back a little further, as if motioning for him to come in. "I assume you know better now than to challenge the effects of the serum again."

"Indeed. Next time I'll know I don't have to rush down here to pick up your rotting corpse."

"We don't leave rotting corpses, we…"

"I know, I know. It was an exaggeration."

The two of them locked eyes over the threshold of the lab, and you could practically see the spark of lightning pass between them. Neither moved an inch.

Vexen was the first to speak, naturally. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get your pink mop of a head in here."

"I just realized something." Marluxia straightened his back, folding his arms over his chest, trying to make himself look bigger…though it was pointless to try to compete with Vexen in height. "There's no reason I have to come in. What's stopping me from simply standing here for the next hour? I'm close enough to you for the serum to stop hurting me. There's no reason I have to come inside. There's no reason I have to follow your orders, either. As long as I'm somewhere near you until eleven o' clock…"

Vexen sighed with irritation. "Of course. I knew you'd say something like that. Well, it doesn't matter…"

And then, Vexen did something so suddenly and unexpectedly that Marluxia didn't even have a chance to defend himself…he grabbed him by the coat sleeve and yanked him inside, flinging him almost straight into a cluttered desk. It took Marluxia a moment to catch his bearings and whirl back around in alarm. By the time he could see straight again, the metal door was once again coated with its ice-barrier.

Vexen turned to glare at him. "I'm not in a good mood today."

"So I can tell. Are you ever in a good mood?"

"Hardly. And it's not going to get any better, thanks to you."

"Why, you're welcome. Anytime!"

Vexen muttered to himself, moving to a nearby storage cabinet and taking out a box of supplies. "Believe me, Number Eleven, I would love to have left you out there too. But now, because of your little interruption yesterday, I am severely behind in my work and it's only fair that you now help me make up for it."

"Does that mean you'll get this awful chemical out of me once you're caught up?"

"No, unfortunately. Like it or not, this is what me must do. Now…" Vexen stood up straight, glowering down at Marluxia and utterly beating him in stature intimidation. "What I need to do first is to get you tested. Normally, Saïx sends the newest member down here to see me after his induction ceremony, but considering the circumstances, I haven't had the time. So take a seat on that examining table behind you."

"Oh, my," Marluxia purposely teased. "You want to examine me? Does this involve removing my clothing? I never knew you were that kind of creepy old man."

"Now, Number Eleven." Vexen's green eyes flashed dangerously, and Marluxia could have sworn he felt the temperature around him suddenly lower five degrees.

"Okay, okay, I'm going." Finally, he just resigned himself to whatever was coming, getting up and placing himself on the long white-lined examining table on the left. But the instant Vexen did anything to hurt him in any way, he was getting out of there.

Strangely enough, though, Marluxia was finding himself…inexplicably excited. It was like the ends of his nerves were crackling, pleasantly…on edge. It's just more…enjoyable with him… he realized, slowly. Rather than arguing with someone like Luxord or Axel… Vexen is more…fun. He was just more of a challenge. Marluxia could easily grow bored of snipping at Axel or glaring at Demyx and Xigbar or complaining to Luxord…but really, he could go on pestering Vexen all day.

Vexen scooped up a clipboard from one of his desks, flipped through a few of its papers until he found what he was looking for, and made his way over to Marluxia's side, removing his gloves and pulling on a suspicious latex doctors' pair.

"Um…" Marluxia spoke, glancing back at them with a purposeful nervous expression. "Just what are you going to be touching with those?"

Vexen snarled, like a red flag popping up with the words "NOT IN THE MOOD" in dripping black letters. "It's procedure. That's it. I'm going to need a blood sample, along with your height and weight and all your other vital statistics, for documentation purposes. This should have been done a long time ago."

Marluxia glanced over, watching distantly as Vexen bustled about him, making measurements and jotting down notes…peering in his eyes, tapping on his joints, sticking him with needles. For one moment, he had him unzip his coat, pressing a flat, cold metal disk over his chest and sticking two little headphone-type things in his ears.

"Take a deep breath," he ordered, and Marluxia sucked his air in, inflating his chest.

Is this some kind of perverted chest-thing…?

"…You can release it."

"Pffoo…" Marluxia purposely blew outward, hard, blowing Vexen's long side-bangs back, away from his face.

His stone-stiff face remained completely unfazed, and he just moved the little metal slab. "Now again."

After three more of these breath exercises, Vexen moved away, jotting down another note. "Heartbeat's regular."

At this, finally, Marluxia took notice. He was entirely uninterested in anything else Vexen had to tell him about himself—that he was five foot nine, that his reflexes were extremely fast, that his blood type was O negative. But this was an entirely different—and confusing—piece of information. He'd been mulling over this whole "heart" business gradually since last night…eventually deciding that he needed this thing called "feel". He didn't know what it was, but it was somehow hard-wired into his system-it was something he knew he was missing, and that he suddenly wanted back. And he suspected the rest of the Organization had the same notions. He needed a "heart" to release them. And here was Vexen, telling him he had a "heartbeat".

"…Heartbeat?" he finally exclaimed. "What are you talking about? I don't have a heart."

Vexen arched an eyebrow at him over his shoulder. "Oh, yes you do."

Is he trying to play some stupid game with me? Marluxia resented. He jerked his coat closed and quickly did up the zipper. Because if he is, I don't get it. He should have learned by now that trying to get back at me using my own tactics is futile.

Vexen turned to face him again, holding the clipboard at his waist and looking smugly proud of himself for knowing something that he didn't. "You have a heart," he repeated, "But you don't have a heart."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Marluxia shot him a glare, through his ragged bangs. "And don't give me that nonsense poetry. Just tell me—do I or do I not have a heart?"

"And by 'heart', do you mean 'heart'…or 'heart'? They're two entirely different things, really."

"I mean heart, you senile idiot. Heart. You said the same thing twice already. It means the exact same thing."

"Au contraire, my ignorant little friend." Gracefully, Vexen whipped out a poster-diagram from his clipboard, as if he'd been practicing for this moment for weeks. It depicted a human outline interlaced with hundreds of tiny blue lines, stemming from a lumpy, vaguely oval-like shape in the center of its chest. Vexen jabbed at that reddish lump with one latex-gloved finger.

"This is a heart. It is a fleshy muscle roughly the size of your fist sitting in the center of your chest at this very moment. It pumps constantly in order to cycle blood through your body and keep you alive. Although originally formed from Darkness, we Nobodies have a very physical presence—we have skin, organs, muscles, bones…otherwise we would not be able to move or to move anything else in this universe. I call it the 'physical-heart'. Now…"

Vexen flipped the poster around, deftly revealing another diagram of another human figure entirely filled in with pinkish color. Beside it was a crystalline heart-shaped…well, heart, drawn in with a pencil.

"This," Vexen continued, gesturing non-specifically to the figure, "Is a heart. It is an energy, a non-quantifiable, non-material essence which comes inside a human being. I call it the 'essential-heart'. It is not located anywhere specifically within the body…it just is. However, when a heart is removed from a body, or extracted from a Heartless, it tends to take on a deceptively physical presence, which appears like this…" He pointed this time to the crystal-heart sketch. "It is simply a mirage created by the heart's energy, however. If you should attempt to touch it, I suspect your hand would go straight through. This is what you do not have. This is what allows humans to feel. Due to an unfortunate cross-association of dated theory, the two separate entities have become lumped into one, though it is ridiculous to say 'you're in my heart' to express love, or 'my heart hurts' to express sadness. Your physical-heart isn't hurting…your essential-heart is making you hurt. I cannot stand for such misuse of terms…"

As Vexen started in on another of his patented extended lectures, complete with the occasional hand-gesture-illustration, Marluxia delved into his own analysis of what this new piece of information could mean. He gently pressed his own hand to his chest, feeling his "physical-heart" beat. As much as he hated to admit it, Vexen knew quite a lot about this heart business…things that he wouldn't have even considered…things he thought some of the others might not even know about. Naturally, he was curious…he wanted to learn more…to figure this thing out and correct it. Find a way of getting an "essential-heart" of his own. Though he hated to admit it…he was going to have to spend more time with Vexen. Get him to open up, tell him everything he knew about the "essential-heart's" secrets.

I could use this to my advantage… Vexen is the type who, even if he knew something important about the heart, wouldn't do anything about it without Xemnas's approval. But if I had that information…if I had that kind of power… I'm going to have to coax anything else out of him…details about his Replica Project, possible methods for constructing a heart…ways in which a Keyblade might be obtained. If I knew these secrets…and I acted on them, I'd be better off than anyone else in this stupid Organization. I'd have the power before Xemnas could even begin to get his gloves on it. They'd all have to listen to me.

"…It had its roots in ancient physiology, you see. Before the 1600's, physicians commonly believed the heart to be the center of all passions and changes in the body's emotions. The heart was thought to expand or contract according to feelings-expanding in love and great sorrow, contracting in bitterness and spite. A somewhat logical conclusion, given the strain and constriction found in chest muscles during moments of intense emotion. However, that symptom has more to do with the lungs than the heart. They were off the mark by a long shot, but it's understandable, given that they only had dead bodies robbed from graveyards to study and dissect…"

"And uh...so what about feelings?" Marluxia deliberately interrupted. "Even though we're Nobodies, we still have emotional responses. I mean, I know there are times when I make a face just to get someone to do something, like leave me alone, but there are some times when my face just reacts. You do that a lot, when you fly off the handle."

Vexen ground to a halt, displaying just the sort of shocked, disbelieving emotional response Marluxia had just been talking about. The little neophyte had actually been listening to part of his lecture? And he wanted to know more? Vexen had so many memories, even from his previous life, of being ignored, that he was almost coming to expect it.

"Oh. Yes. Those. Like just now, actually. Well, yes…" For a brief moment, he was even at a loss for words. There were no convenient diagrams or handy charts or anything else on hand which he could use to try to explain these things to a neophyte. Unfortunately, he'd have to try his best with words. Not too verbose, now…and slowly…

"Well…previously, our research had shown that…there are always two…parts…to an emotion…being experienced…an emotional one and a physiological one. As Nobodies, we still possess all of the physiological components of what made us who we were as humans, thus we have the physiological traits of emotion. We experience the physical sensations of emotion, which are triggered by certain hormones and the levels of certain chemicals in our brains. We respond to situations physiologically…but we cannot respond emotionally, for lack of an essential-heart. Such responses are called 'no-feelings' or 'nomotions'. "

Vexen frowned. I kind of went off it at the end there… "Did you…understand any of that?"

"Of course I did!" Marluxia gave him an irritated glance. "You act like I'm some kind of retarded seven-year-old. I'm not stupid."

"You'll have to excuse me. Usually whenever I attempt to explain something to anyone else in this Organization, he looks at me as if I am speaking a foreign language which he has never heard before. I wasn't expecting much from you, especially with the way you've been acting thus far."

Marluxia narrowed his eyes, challengingly. "You don't know anything about me."

"Oh, yes, I do," Vexen answered, a slightly different tone in his voice now, as he whirled away toward his desk again. "I know your blood type, your blood pressure, your height, weight, reaction time, the distance between your left and right shoulder...I'd say I know quite a bit about you."

"But you don't know who I am…inside!" Marluxia posed over-dramatically, clutching his chest, kicking his legs up, and falling straight off the examination table with a thick plunk. "Oww…" he sat up, rubbing his backside. "That's going to be a bruise in the morning."

Vexen rolled his eyes, just as he was finishing filing the information and putting the desk back into an orderly work area. "Idiot. I take back whatever I said before about you not being a retarded seven-year-old."

"Aww," Marluxia teased. "How cold. Though I would expect nothing less from you."

Vexen's shoulders tensed. "Actions and reactions are completely unrelated to one's elemental magic affinity, I'll have you know…"

"Yeah, yeah, I figured as much. Still, I thought it was a nice connection." Marluxia stepped forward…and almost without thinking, curled one finger around a lock of Vexen's hair, twirling it…much in the same way he'd seen Xigbar do with Xaldin. He had no idea why, even afterwards…it had just seemed like something he wanted to do at the time. Besides, from the back, at least, he didn't have to see his withered, pointed, creepy face. "Are you sure of that, though? You should do a bit more research on it, if you ask me. Because to me, you're perfectly suited to ice. And I'm perfectly suited to flowers. It's almost as if we were made to possess their abilities."

"It's not complete…" Vexen's voice went soft, as Marluxia continued to fiddle absent-mindedly with his hair. He stared into the polished surface of his desk, a confusing, stunned reaction coming over him, like he'd never experienced before. "I…I don't know if… Get your nasty little groping fingers off me!"

Vexen jerked away from Marluxia's touch, facing him again with an annoyed expression, and Marluxia instantly lost any interest he'd had in him.

"Aww," he tauntingly pouted. "You're hurting my no-feelings."

"No-feelings can't be hurt, there's nothing there to be hurt, because the physiological-"

"I know, I know." Marluxia flicked Vexen on the forehead, for which he glanced up, confused and annoyed. "It was a joke. I think you lack a sense of humor along with your essential-heart."

"A sense of humor isn't something I need in my particular profession." Vexen bounced back to life, moving briskly to a second desk where another pile of disorganized papers and supplies lied in a heap. Glancing at the clock, he felt a snarl of disgust twist his lips. He couldn't believe he'd wasted so much time with such trivial matters as explaining the workings of hearts and feelings to the one who'd only ever treated him with complete disrespect. But still...Number Eleven had seemed to take a genuine interest in the subject, for which Vexen felt…refreshed. For a moment, he'd had a small sense of true worth that he hadn't had in quite a while. But he couldn't dwell on that now...especially not now.

"And that's enough of that talk today." He shuffled through his supplies, pulling up the notes and charts from where he'd left off yesterday and bustling to get the rest of his supplies in order. "We've only got forty-five minutes left in which to make up for a day's worth of work. Now, I want you to pull out the second tray of that storage cabinet there. …And hurry up! Don't just stand there with that brain-dead look on your face!"

Marluxia snapped back out of his own thinking trance. Unfortunately, he could see that he wasn't going to get any other little secrets out of the scientist tonight…and he'd have to stick around here with him for another forty-five minutes… Ah, well. May as well just get through this…

Marluxia reluctantly slid the drawer open and retrieved the tray of delicate metal instruments Vexen then asked for. He watched in utter boredom as he then pulled out a very large microscope and began checking on a series of little transparent glass bubble-containers, deftly jotting down notes and flipping papers.

"There's no need for you to just stand there twiddling your thumbs—take that stack of papers there and organize them by date. And when you're done with that, you can take these pellets and drop them into that beaker on the far right. Carefully, mind you!" Vexen waved a hand to him, though his face was still glued to the microscope's eyepiece.

Marluxia grumbled, but picked up the stack of papers anyway. "Y'know, you could at least say 'please, Marluxia' or 'I really appreciate it, Marluxia'. That would be nice. Might motivate me to be a little more helpful."

"There's no time for pleasantries!" Vexen snapped. "Just do it!"

Marluxia snarled as he sat on the edge of the desk and began to smack the papers into place. That itching, burning, picking sensation of wanting to get away from him as soon as he could intensified. His grudging hatred for the man was in full force again…returning from its side-track during his lecture about the heart.

I was doing so well, too, before yesterday… Marluxia silently fumed. Everyone was proud of me, they welcomed me…no one was forcing me to do anything. They had respect for me, even as a newcomer. I was free to do virtually anything I wished… Then he ruined everything. He ruined everything I had going for me. Just because I know he's actually twenty-six years old and that he's being forced to sacrifice his life force? That's his own business. Sure, it's grounds for opposing Xemnas…but hell, I don't even care about that anymore. Come to think of it, why doesn't he act twenty-six? He's acting more like his body's age than this actual age...

"Off the table, if you please!"

Marluxia muttered some quip about him liking being old as he slid back off the table with the organized papers, but Vexen was too lost in his own world now to notice. This sort of thing continued for the next half hour, as Vexen flew through charts and mixed and checked and re-checked substances, and Marluxia begrudgingly fetched supplies from closets and drawers, put away file folders, stacked bottles neatly inside each other, and stuffed a few unidentifiable lumps into a mysteriously percolating machine.

He needed something to do…some opening, some method of revenge…some way in which he could come out on top. And then, when the clock above the computer-station read precisely 10:59, the golden opportunity was literally handed to him.

"Come here," Vexen demanded, and Marluxia obeyed, purposely shuffling his feet to slow himself down.

"Okay, we're almost caught up now…" Vexen gingerly pulled away from the table, lifting a set of twelve test tubes on a rack. These were the final products, from everything he'd measured and observed and mixed together-everything he had to show for his past three hours of work…and perhaps blinded by excitement and relief, or just numbed by lack of sleep…he made the severely unfortunate mistake of placing them directly into Marluxia's hands.

"You'll be free to go in just a few moments. Just hold this for me for a second while I open the cooler…" Vexen leaned down next to a smooth black box just underneath the table's ledge and produced a ring of keys from his pocket, fitting one into a lock on the device.

And Marluxia knew it. This was his moment. He knew what he had to do. What he longed to do. What he was destined to do. He simply loosened his fingers…relaxed his palms…and let the test tube rack slide right through them.

Vexen turned back towards him again…just in time to see his precious experiments crash disastrously to the ground, glass shattering into clear jagged pieces, brilliant liquids and squishy little solids spraying across the dusty, dirty gray floor.

Then they settled.

Marluxia smirked, and Vexen's face went even whiter than he'd thought physically possible. Then came the explosion.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

Marluxia had never heard anyone shriek so loudly and shrilly in his entire past-lifetime memories. He stuck his fingers in his ears as Vexen shot up to his feet, stomping the ground, grinding his head, writhing in agony, in an entertaining little angry dance. Marluxia couldn't help but chuckle under his breath as he watched.

"You bumbling, idiotic, foolhardy, insensitive, infuriating, festering, leech-sucking, good-for-nothing rat!"

Marluxia couldn't suppress his no-feeling response any longer and burst into laughter.

"You think this is funny?" Vexen roared, coming to a stop for a moment to glare threateningly back at him, eyes burning with empty rage. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to assemble this set of samples? Any idea? Two whole days! Two whole days worth of work you've just destroyed for the sake of your sadistic little pleasures! You know nothing about the worth of my science! I should never have allowed it to be touched by worthless scum like you!"

"Ahahahahahahahaha," Marluxia only laughed, pressing one hand to his mouth for effect. "Oh, goodness… Oh, Vexen, you've outdone yourself yet again. That was simply the most entertaining 'nomotion' display I've ever yet seen! What am I again? A leech-sucking little rat?"

"This is entertainment to you? This is entertainment? This is fun to you, destroying people's life's work?" By now, Vexen's face had changed from chalk-white to radish-red, and his ranting was, unfortunately, even more entertaining when accompanied by it. He thrust a finger accusingly at his snickering, pink-haired offender. "You are…you are a…work-rapist!"

Marluxia roared with laughter, clutching his left side and pounding one fist into the table. "Hahahaha, st-stop it! You…y-you're h-hurting me! Hahahahahahahahaha!"

"Alright, that's it!" Vexen stormed to his side, dragging him to his feet and flinging him to the ground with a fleshy thump.

"Aha-" Marluxia's laughter finally ground to a halt when he hit the floor, dull pain blossoming over in multiple places in his body.

"Clean it up," Vexen demanded, the fury still underlining his voice. "Clean that up now. Not even a glass micro-particle better remain."

Marluxia glanced to the side. Yes, he thought, it was good enough now…he'd be able to pull this off.

The triumphant smirk reappeared across his lips…as he got back to his feet. "Oh, my," he stated, pointing to the clock, which now read one minute after eleven. "Look at the time! I really must be going!" And with that, he dashed off, as fast as he legs could take him.

"Wha-?" Vexen cried, reaching out, but he was too slow.

Marluxia crashed straight through the ice-barrier, which had become weak and thin enough over time to allow him to break through, and sprinted straight through the lab door, closing it firmly behind him and making his way up the stairs.

"AAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" he heard Vexen scream after him, even through the thick metal lab doors, and even from halfway up the stairs.

Marluxia chuckled a little again—oh, he was so much fun to mess with. I'll make sure he never forgets. No one is allowed to push me around like that. He'll be remembering this encounter for a long, long time to come. Looks like you need to learn a few things, too, Mr. Scientist.

He had a strangely refreshed sense as he climbed the stairs back to his room. That hadn't been entirely unpleasant. In fact, he'd quite enjoyed himself. Maybe next time, he wouldn't hold out for so long. Hey, if he was going to be stuck with Vexen for two hours every day, he might as well have some fun with him.

And that night, he slept like a log, completely satisfied.

(-)

Vexen stared at his trembling hand, pressed to the dark floor, just underneath the devastation. His body had given out in the moment Marluxia had run off on him, leaving him weak and shaky with the aftershocks of his rage. I really need to get my reactions under control, he begrudgingly thought. I have no idea where half of those things I said came from…

It was kind of interesting, really. Other Organization members had done things like this to him before…Xigbar destroying his lab equipment, Axel setting some of his sheets on fire…but never before had his no-feelings completely exploded like that. That neophyte…Number Eleven…just had some kind of effect on him. It would probably be best to study it further…this could be some new facet to the theory of nomotions that could be the key to unlocking their remaining secrets. That was, of course, if he could survive it. Even now, he could still feel his physical-heart pounding against his ribcage.

"Rrrrgh…" Vexen growled to himself, looking down into the mess. The least that scoundrel could have done was to help clean it up before he left. Instead of getting yesterday's work caught up with, he was now two days behind. Instead of a small step forward, he'd taken an enormous leap backwards. His hands were still shaking, even as his heart began to slow down and he began to regain control of his limbs.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. His results were due to Lord Xemnas tomorrow. If he didn't have at least something to show for his days away…

Vexen forced himself to his feet again, quickly gliding away to find a broom and a mop and other supplies to sweep up the sad remnants of his all-important proto-tissue. I was correct, of course, he mused, with resentment. Trying to get Number Eleven to work for me was one of my worst ideas ever. All that disrespectful little hooligan will do is undo any progress I attempt to make, purely for his so-called "entertainment". Nevermind that he took an interest in my heart research. He was probably only pretending to be interested, to get me to trust him. Feh.

Vexen hurried past the table he'd been working at again, now with a broom and rubber gloves…but something looked different about his work area. Something he hadn't noticed before. He stopped and let go of the broom for a moment to get a better look at it.

There, hanging over the lip of one of his beakers, soaking up the chemicals inside and curling its petals at him, saucily…was a single pink rose…just sitting there, making itself comfortable. Vexen stared at it, and the more he did, the more the soft, curvy petals began to resemble Marluxia's hair…the more it began to resemble Marluxia's head, his face, chuckling at him…taunting him, mocking him…

With one swift, violent motion, he plucked the horrendous weed from his territory, holding it in one hand, sending it his most malicious glare. Gradually, his hand closed tighter around it…squeezing it with malice…and a coating of ice began to creep over it. It spread and cracked solidly over the rose as Vexen channeled all of his hatred into it. Then, once it was completely covered in ice, glistening under a white-blue frosted sheen, he cracked it in his fist, shattering it into a thousand little shreds, letting the torn, dead petals and leaves drop to the ground. Marluxia wasn't the only one who could destroy things, after all.

Number Eleven… Vexen thought, almost a telepathic message, as if he concentrated enough, Marluxia would hear it in his head. He eyes were focused on the mess of icy petal shards, now mixed into the runny chemical disaster. Know this…don't think you've won. I will not let you bring me down so easily.

A spark of determination flew through his veins…a renewal of energy. Marluxia was a challenge now, something to be overcome, a problem to be surmounted…and a smirk appeared at the side of Vexen's face at the thought of stepping up to it.

Oh, no, he thought, as he returned to sweeping up the mess. This is only the beginning.