Disclaimer: Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me.

Warning: Rated T for language (Saïx has a potty mouth).

COOKING MAMA

3: Seven Hears Bad Luck

Somewhere in child Xemnas is an adult Xemnas pissing himself laughing. I just know it. I study the innocent face, trying to catch a glint of betrayal, a smidgen of the Superior's true colours, but no avail. He just looks bemused, borderline afraid.

"I know you're in there somewhere, having a good time," I utter to my pint sized boss, squatting to match his height. "Just because you have our loyalty, doesn't mean you can abuse it. You downed that stupid shake, banking on our allegiance to save you. What if I don't feel like it? What if I were to commit a mutiny right here, right now? What if I grabbed Vexen and Xaldin, legged it out of here and left you? Then what would you do?"

"Mama, you're talking too fast and I don't understand." He shakes his head at me, sorrowful, as if I'm the lost cause here. "But you can't leave. You just can't."

He falls forwards, arms outstretched. I know what that means. I scrabble to my feet. "Bleh, get back!" I snap at him. "We don't hug. Ever."

"Why not?" Xemnas says. His arms stay open; he's ready to cry. Well, tough shit, Superior. Let's think about me for once.

"Because it makes me uncomfortable. I have enough of your adult self perving over me; I don't want you molesting me as a child as well."

Xemnas furrows his eyebrows, rubbing the side of his head. "What does molesting mean?"

"Never mind. Look, it's nearly six. We have to go to the meeting."

"And what's a mutiny?" Xemnas calls. He has to run to keep in step with me.

"A mutiny is something I'll probably never end up committing."

I scowl, unsure whether to be angry with him or myself. It's no wonder why Xemnas can incapacitate himself like this with no concern for the consequences. There aren't consequences, not when I'm here to handle it all. And I will, because what else am I supposed to do? He's so manipulated me that if I make a break for it, whatever route I take will lead me back to him.

I look down as he runs at my side, humming and smiling.

I don't care how innocent he looks, I know that that's adult Xemnas grinning back at me.

-x-

Here's a question. Do you know what a Death Glare is?

It's a clever arrangement of one's face, so that it scares someone shitless, and that someone stops trying to piss you off. It's a handy way of regaining control of a situation. It does wonders for your reputation as well. Death Glares are my and Xaldin's speciality.

At quarter to six, not long before our weekly meeting in the Round Room, Xaldin and I discover that children are, in fact, immune to the Death Glare.

They actually find it funny.

"Hey, Zexion!" cries Axel. "Guess who this is, all right?" He curls up his fingers save for his index ones, which he forms a cross with and positions between his eyes. He pulls a face to make him look constipated, and then he stomps around in circles, huffing and puffing. Demyx cracks up; Xigbar tries to suppress a smile. "Grr! Do your work! Stop looking happy! Don't breathe so loud!"

I can't believe it. I cannot believe it. For so long, I have been the bully of the Organisation, verbally whipping the members into work. For so long, I have worked hard for a cushy spot at the top of the ladder and the respect that comes with it. Now it's gone, and I'm the laughing stock of the team. My austerity is now a great way to make people laugh. Un-fucking-believable.

My composure starts to slide away from me. I scrabble to maintain control of it by counting in my head, but I forget what comes after three.

"You'll…You'll pay for that!" Xemnas leaps to my rescue, which I really don't need at the moment. He throws himself at Axel, tackling him to the floor. They kick and scream and try to bite one another's hands. Xaldin groans, covering his ears; Vexen puts in his earplugs, closes his eyes and shuts himself off to the rest of the world. Lexaeus gurgles and splutters (at least someone finds it funny), and Demyx runs to a safe spot before Xemnas crashes into him. Xigbar tries to intervene, adopting his typical I'm your friend routine.

"Someone should break up the fight," Zexion remarks, coming close to a smile. "You know, properly."

I shoot him a Death Glare, but remember what I said about them not working? Zexion just ignores me, surveying the fight with twisted interest, nodding in approval when Axel elbows Xigbar in his good eye.

I have to do something. Think, Saïx, think.

"Mama, help!" Xemnas cries. "He's got my hair!"

Okay, so to everyone else it looks like I acted on that plea, but no, that's not the case. I had actually come up with an idea right when Xemnas called. They're fighting, but there's not a single aerial blade or chakram in sight. Chances are they can't summon their weapons. I, on the other hand, can do such a thing, and if Death Glares won't work, then maybe a giant fucking claymore will.

"Xigbar, move." I wait for an opening. Just as Xemnas and Axel are about to come to blows, I throw the claymore down between them. CRASH! They stumble backwards as the shockwave hits them. At long, long last, they fall silent. Xemnas rubs the side of his head, whimpering a little. Axel has a nice clump of silver hair in his left hand. He so has to be set straight.

"…How d'you do that?" asks Axel. I should have guessed he'd be more enthralled than intimidated. "It's like magic. Wh-what is it?"

"That's a claymore, and I'll warn you now, it's painful," I say to him, walking over and summoning the weapon back to my hand. I try to ignore Xemnas running to hide behind my leg. "If you want to fuck with me, by all means go ahead. Who do you think would win in a fight between you and me? Exactly. So get up, behave yourself and go through this portal to your seat. Everyone else – I suggest you do the same."

I poke Vexen's shoulder to prompt him out of his dream world. Then, I draw up a door for Axel, and seal it as he passes through in a huff. Lexaeus is a bit trickier. I end up going through the portal with him, sitting him down while I balance on the armrest and talk to him like a puppy. ("Stay, Lexaeus. Wander off and then your skull will smash and you'll die and everyone will laugh at you.")

Xemnas is worse.

"Meetings are boring. All people do is talk and talk," Xemnas proclaims. (Oh, the irony.) "I don't want to go. Can't…Can't I just stay here and draw?"

"No." I give him a meaningful prod to his portal. "You're going because everyone else is."

"Zexion isn't," Xemnas points out, and it's true. Xigbar isn't having much luck. In all honesty, he stands about as much chance as a poor sod trying to pull an elephant along with an elastic band.

"Seriously, it's not all bad," says Xigbar. "You get a nice seat and you don't have to pay attention if you don't want to. You're allowed to nod off; it's merely attendance that's compulsory."

"If I attend, it means that I conform to your cult. I've told you I don't want to be a part of it." Zexion turns up his nose.

"We're not a cult, we're an organisation," Xigbar protests.

Zexion is unrelenting. "Your cult is disturbing and illogical. Things don't add up."

"Say, Superi—Xemnas." I turn idly to him. "What colour are you missing in your drawing kit?"

"…Orange." He hovers by the portal, fidgety.

"I can get you orange," I tell him. "Just go in that portal and sit through the meeting without causing trouble."

Amazing. Do this and you will get this. There's nothing to suggest it's a binding agreement, but that doesn't occur to Xemnas. He really thinks it's a promise, and one that I intend to keep. He'll do anything for a fricking colouring pencil. Funny, really, bearing in mind his adult self can barely be convinced to lift a finger.

"Your seat's high, so careful," I call after Xemnas. "Right. Three down, one left."

Zexion quirks an eyebrow at me. "Bribery will not work on me. As I was saying, the name calling," he says, addressing me as well as Xigbar. (I remember now. He was criticising and complaining, wasn't he? It's like the adult Zexion never left us.) "Why do people call Xemnas 'Superior'? What exactly is superior about him? Is he royalty or something? What about numbers? Why are you Two, and why am I Six? This place makes little sense. I'd rather go back to the orphanage than stay here."

"Well, I'd quite like that too, but I'm afraid it doesn't work like that." Xigbar gestures to the portal, attempting a feeble wave to make it look enticing. "For one thing, your orphanage doesn't exist. More importantly, you're a crucial member of the Organisation. Now inside, if you please. Don't make me tip you upside down over a bottomless pit."

"Like that will change my mind."

"I can do it, you know!" Xigbar huffs.

It's true, to some extent. Xigbar is an expert in manipulating space and gravity. Still, I'd like to see him try and catch Zexion in the first place. It's tempting to stand around and watch the struggle. A nice change to see Xigbar being driven up the wall rather than the usual suspect (me of course). However, as time is pressing and the meeting does need to commence, I might as well intervene.

"Zexion, I don't think you should pass up this meeting, since you have a lot to complain about." I shut Xigbar's portal for him. "That's the point of us getting together, to discuss and plan and hear others' opinions. In due time, you can have your questions answered, and understand more about us. To dismiss us as a cult and refuse any contact is very irrational for someone who likes to learn."

Zexion pulls a face, the sort of look someone wears when they have been cornered. I know how to exploit others as well as he does. Zexion's biggest weakness is knowledge; he can be any age and that fact won't change.

So who was it saying that bribery wouldn't work?

Zexion – 0. Saïx – 1.

-x-

Scratch that.

Zexion – 1. Saïx – 0.

Since I effectively gave him free rein to complain about whatever he likes, he's now become a royal pain in the arse. Sitting down and shutting up is apparently impossible for Zexion.

"This is ridiculous," he spits, and his voice echoes off the white walls so that no ear can be spared. He's inside at least, staring up at us from the floor since he refused to portal into his seat. "Why are the chairs up so high? What's the point? What if I wanted to make notes? Would you make me a twenty feet high table too?"

"The grandeur of the Round Room reflects the greatness of the decisions that come from within it," Xaldin answers.

"Is it meant to reflect the impracticality too?" Zexion grumbles.

"Are you really six? Look, try and be polite. Thankfully, your seat isn't so far above the ground," says Xigbar, seriously misjudging it. (He does only have one eye, so I think we can let him off.) "I can probably give you a leg up and you can sit up there with the rest of us."

"I'm perfectly fine here. I think this room is the most insensible room I have ever come across—"

"I think it's cool," says Demyx, already at ease in his seat. He's sat next to me, and it's quite irritating to see him slouch and kick his legs around like he's on a deckchair rather than attending a formal gathering. Lexaeus is on my right, barely filling the space and babbling to himself.

"Look, can I just leave him here?" Xigbar pleads to me, deciding he's had enough of Zexion. "He's practically present, isn't he?"

I shrug. "It'll do. Let's start." I study my clipboard, reading the notes I had accumulated over the past week. The memory of investigating and writing reports to serve Xemnas seems so far away, and it's only been one fucking day with these kids. "Three items to discuss, namely the allergic reaction, a proposal from Vexen and the Nobody in Twilight Town. Superior, where shall we start?"

It's how things are always done. I read out what needs to be discussed and then hand it to Xemnas, who tells us what to do. However, Xemnas is sat in his seat with his face as white as his hair. His hands hold onto the armrests for dear life and he appears to be hyperventilating.

"M-Mama, it's too high…! I don't like it."

"You decided on seat height yourself," Xaldin points out (very unhelpfully). He sighs. "Since the Superior is incapacitated, and Xigbar failed in his simple task of getting Zexion to his chair, I nominate myself to lead today's meeting. Any objections?"

We adults shake our heads. Out of the corner of my eye, Lexaeus copies this movement.

"The most pressing matter is the Nobody, Rould. He's proving immensely difficult."

"Who's Rould?" Axel asks. Unlike Xemnas, he's comfortable in his seat and participating.

"He's someone we're trying to recruit," says Xaldin, to which Zexion replies, "Brainwash, you mean?"

Xaldin ignores him. "Before his incapacitation, the Superior put great stress on recruiting Rould, or Luxord, as Xemnas has named him."

"He already has a name?" says Demyx. "I only got mine after I agreed to join."

"That's normal procedure," I contribute, "except Luxord is someone we've been trying to recruit for a long time. If things went according to plan, he would have been our Number Nine and you, Ten. However, despite Xigbar and Xaldin's efforts, Luxord still feels disinclined to join us. Xemnas has made it clear that we need him."

"I haven't! I don't know who he even is!" Xemnas shouts, still gripping his armrests.

"So you find random people, brainwash them and give them names, because Xemnas tells you to?" Zexion sneers. I feel ready to jump down to that platform and throttle him, when I realise that Zexion's comment isn't far off the mark. Talk about wounding.

"I don't mind about Rould any more, just get me down from here," Xemnas whines.

"In conclusion," Xaldin plunders on like a merciless train at full speed, "not even our ultimate goal or the reward we seek interests him. He's too comfortable where he is."

"Then I suggest you make things uncomfortable for him," Vexen quips.

"Trust me, we've done the whole spectrum. Threats, bribery, smooth talk, violence. One extremity after another. Luxord simply doesn't care." Xigbar scratches the back of his head, perplexed. "And then there's his element to worry about. We have a five minute audience with him, and then when we leave, we find out a whole day has passed. I propose we come at another angle."

"Delegating, you mean?" I scoff at the idea, because 'delegating' usually means 'just throw it to Saïx'. "I'm currently a babysitter; my hands are full. Demyx is in no position for such an important mission, and after his screw up with the shakes, that means that Vexen is tied up too. Luxord will have to remain your responsibility, Xigbar. Have him recruited, or prepare to explain yourself to Xemnas."

Xigbar has the grace to look embarrassed and for a second, it really is like an average meeting with me reiterating orders. Then, Xemnas ruins it.

"It's okay, Uncle Xigbar," he calls from his seat with less than half his usual grandeur. (Xaldin chokes on the word Uncle.) "You don't have to explain yourself to me." He catches on quick, perhaps now very aware that Superior means him, and that grants him the authority to overrule me. "Let's talk about erm…the second point. Grandpa Vexen has a purpose."

"A proposal, and you can drop the Grandpa, it's completely unfounded and insolent." Nevertheless, Vexen dishes out his research notes, eager to elaborate on what he deems the crucial point of our meeting. "My proposal ties in with point three, the allergic reaction. I have been researching into it, naturally, as it is imperative that we find a cure. However, with Saïx's permission, I will also be doing an analysis of the affected, which means that the ah…incapacitation of the four shall continue. I am sure, however, that the research will prove useful and interesting for us all. All of my work is useful and interesting, of course, but this is an opportunity that we cannot miss, given my preliminary investigation suggests that we have a complex web of a Nobody and Somebody to untangle…"

I look to my right. Lexaeus has slumped to lean against the armrest, his eyes on me. He looks bored out of his mind, and for the first time ever, I feel some sort of affinity to him. "Nee go," he mutters.

"What do you mean, a Nobody and a Somebody?" asks Xigbar. "We're one or the other."

"They're a mix," corrects Vexen. "Put them into age order as they are now, youngest to oldest."

"Erm…" Xigbar starts, surveying the four. "Lexaeus is youngest, then Xemnas, Axel and Zexion."

"Very good. Now put them in their Somebody age order, oldest to youngest this time."

"Lexaeus, Xemnas, Axel, Zex—wait, it's the same."

Vexen nods, purposefully ignoring Zexion's comment of, "We have an allergic reaction? Shouldn't you be taking us to the doctor rather than having a meeting about it? I hate this cult."

"The older the Somebody, the younger the reaction self is. It seems the shake tapped into the Somebody, most likely through the Nobody's memory. Despite corresponding to the Somebody, what you see before you is a child version of the Nobody. Not a two year old Aeleus, who actually existed. A two year old Lexaeus, who has – until now – been an impossibility."

Vexen, showing some rare mercy, lets us fall into silence for the information to sink in. It vaguely makes sense. Lea only determined the age; the rest is pure Axel. That explains his attitude towards me, how he competes for my attention by teasing me – that's Axel mentality, not Lea. And Zexion is undoubtedly a shadow of himself and not Ienzo (who, according to Xigbar, was a reserved youth with no inclination to talk or be a smartarse).

"Hey, kiddo, it's all right." Xigbar's voice makes me snap out of my thoughts. I spot him leaning across to wave at Xemnas. Fuck knows how Xigbar can feel comfortable calling his boss 'kiddo'. I'm compelled to ask, but Xemnas takes priority. He looks even more distraught.

"You said we're allergic. Do we have a disease? Are we going to die?"

Oh look, Xemnas' famous theatrics are back. I was wondering where they had gone.

"No, you're not going to die. We're just talking about a little mishap," Xigbar reassures. "Grown up stuff, don't worry."

"What are we allergic to?" Axel demands.

"Sunlight," Vexen answers. We all stare at him. "It's very common. The four of you are in this castle which, I'm sure you have noticed, is in perpetual darkness. We are an organisation of scientists. You're here to be cured by us. There is only so much I can do, though, if my resources are limited. I therefore would like to ask for a volunteer or two. Just a psychoanalysis, some harmless questions…"

Smooth, Vexen. Very smooth. I wager he sacrificed a lot of his time to devise our way forward. A part of me wants to ask how he is certain that sunlight fits the bill. What is to say that in their fabricated memories, none of the four have experienced the sun? There's so much unexplained – for Vexen clearly has a better understanding of the situation than the rest of us – but if I talk now, in front of the children, then that's our cover blown.

"I'll be a volunteer." Zexion shrugs. I glance at him, and the stony look on his face suggests that he's not buying the sunlight excuse.

"Excellent!" Vexen enthuses. "Anyone else? Axel? Supe—I mean, Xemnas?"

They shake their heads, horrified. "Nee go," Lexaeus murmurs, looking miserable.

"If you take Zexion, then Xigbar can concentrate fully on Rould," I say. I scour my clipboard, crossing things out and trying to squeeze in new notes. "I will reassign your missions. Xigbar and Xaldin, you are to recruit Rould and have him brought back to the Castle. Vexen, you will provide an analysis on the allergic reaction as well as a cure. I will continue to run the Castle on Xemnas' behalf, as well as taking responsibility for the children. Demyx, you will assume control of the Agrabah investigation, which I was initially assigned. You can see my previous reports to understand what is expected of you. I propose we convene in a week, at next Monday's meeting, with all of these missions accomplished. Any questions or comments? Not from you," I add to Zexion.

"Nee go!" Lexaeus cries, sitting up straighter.

"Meaningful comments?" I correct.

"Great idea. Let's reassess next Monday," says Xaldin. Demyx doesn't seem as thrilled by the deadline. I can't see why he's complaining – he's got the easiest job of all.

"Mama!" Lexaeus screams. I jump, and Xigbar laughs. "Nee go now!"

"Go?" Xaldin repeats. "Go where?"

Lexaeus screws up his face, wriggling. And though he's barely in sight and not my most favourite person, I instinctively glance down at Zexion. He's smiling.

"It means he needs the toilet," he says happily.

Oh. Fuck. Oh…you have got to be kidding me.

"Fuck!"

A portal, hurry! "Lexaeus, you better hold it in, or I'll—" I summon a doorway at his seat, leaping from my chair to Lexaeus'. I pull him into my arms and run through the portal, to a chorus of laughter and clapping.

-x-

The combination of tiredness and lack of cooperation puts me into a sombre mood for the late evening. I don't have enough energy for anger to last me twenty-four hours, and that gives me a good setup for using the end of the day to wind down.

I don't feel any sort of resentment towards Lexaeus. When he's not screaming, he's well behaved and to a degree, he has some respect for me. He didn't shit all over me as I legged it to the bathroom. That's the sign of a budding friendship.

Axel is the only one to interrupt my evening, armed with a forlorn expression that's supposed to make me melt. Xemnas has gone to sleep, and Lexaeus is playing Follow the Leader next door (where the leader is Zexion – some things simply don't change).

Axel trudges into my office at a snail's pace, a yellow bundle in his arms. I ignore him. I am halfway through my diary entry (Xemnas would want a record of what happens every day in his absence); that is far more important than seeing what's up with Axel.

He approaches my desk and sets down a folded note. "Vexen asked me to give this to you."

"Oh, right. Well, now you've given it to me. You can go now."

He does no such thing. Axel crawls under the table, practically sitting on my feet. His arm snakes round my left leg and he hugs me.

Eurgh.

"…Mama?" he tries. Not him too.

"I'm busy at the moment." I open Vexen's note.

Saïx – A task on top of everything else you've been assigned. (I'm sure you won't mind.) Find out all you can about what the Superior was doing yesterday – including trivial things. Also, let me have a copy of Eight's report from yesterday. Vexen.

Fuck that. Why should I go to such lengths to help out Vexen, when he can't be bothered to talk face to face? Actually, it's not that he can't be bothered; it's more that he knows I'll snap. I wonder what the significance is to Axel's report. I think about digging it out, when Axel taps my knee and pushes the yellow bundle into my lap. It's his football.

I stare down at him. "What happened to it?"

"…I kicked it to Xaldin's head by accident." Axel sighs. I examine the was-football, and there's numerous holes in it, as if someone lost his temper and stabbed it to death with six lances.

"Are you here to ask for a new football?" I resume writing my report. This cutesy behaviour is all an act, a ploy to get a new toy. If I lean forwards, I can't see Axel's bright eyes staring from under the table. "You won't get one."

Axel hugs me tighter. I feel like choking. "Xaldin can do what you do. He gets spears out of nowhere. And you get that sword from nowhere."

"That's right. It's something we can all do. Us adults anyway."

"Hmm." Axel rests his chin on my leg. "How do you do it? Because sometimes I think…I don't know, that I should be able to do something like it."

I stop writing. A shiver runs down my back as a dreadful thought occurs to me. The children all have fabricated memories. So why is Axel able to recall some truth?

"What do you mean?" Stay calm, Saïx. Vexen will have an explanation for sure.

"I don't know. I thought you could help me." Axel crawls back out and stands up, making a sweeping gesture with his hands. "I remember doing something like this. Is a weapon supposed to come out for me too?"

"No," I say quickly.

"Are you sure?" Axel continues. A smile works its way onto his face as he holds out his arms.

I can't feel anything. In fact, somewhere along the line, my brain has turned to mush and I've lost what remaining sanity I have left. I'm staring at two chakrams and the most devious smirk.

"…Then what are these?"

No way.

No. Fucking. Way.

A/N: As always, comments and feedback are love. I seem to have inadvertently toned down the humour in favour of plot, but I hope you liked it anyway. Thanks for reading!