Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.

Conversations I

He tells himself it's because he's bored and there's nothing worth doing that brings him here, sitting at the edge of a raised platform while he watches Lexaeus work out, tomahawk cleaving great gashes on the floor. It's strange that this doesn't bore him even further; somehow he is perfectly patient with Lexaeus ripping and repairing the place over and over again. It's not the most graceful of dances, not like Marluxia with his scythe or Larxene spitting lightning, but still, it's better than anything he could have done.

He knows Lexaeus could have gone on forever (or at least, a long, very long time), because as Nobodies they don't have the failings of human bodies with hearts, who tire and sweat and stink and bleed. Zexion wonders briefly if he would have sat there too, for as long as it took watching Lexaeus. But he doesn't allow himself to think further on it.

"Why do this?" he asks when Lexaeus finally stops healing the ground, setting his weapon upright in the wounded floor, the back of his hand passing briefly over his forehead, and Zexion swears he can smell something almost real, almost human, just for a moment. Lexaeus looks up at him, the tomahawk vanishing into red and blue and black dust.

"Do what?"

Zexion catches himself tilting his head slightly, a strange habit he isn't sure where he got from and doesn't quite like, mostly because it felt too human. He frowns, one hand gracefully moving down to his upraised knee and picking at an imaginary speck there. In his mind, he carefully constructed and dissected various ways to answer Lexaeus' question, not liking how Lexaeus had thrown it back at him, not liking the fact that even though Lexaeus had thrown back the question he had not felt irritated, just mildly annoyed.

He settles for a reclarification, throwing away the alternate ways like yesterday's rubbish.

"This training. There really isn't a need, is there."

"Oh."

Lexaeus looks at him with those blue eyes, and while Zexion knows, Zexion knows Lexaeus is anything but a simple-minded, brutish man, that there is someone more complex lying behind the muscled bulk who does the brute work of the Organization, cleaning out Heartless and Dusk alike, nothing more than a janitor...but when he looks into those eyes he sees something he doesn't like.

And then Lexaeus shrugs those massive shoulders of his, hands spread out in a placating manner and Zexion can see the calluses on his palms, hard and rough and permanent, and for a moment he wonders what it would feel like to take Lexaeus' hand and touch.

"It's something to do."

Zexion tries to pretend that he just hasn't bought into that statement, because there has to be something else that needed to be examined and Zexion can't let his guard down, not even around Lexaeus. But Lexaeus doesn't lie, and Zexion knows that, and Zexion doesn't like it.

The problem with honest speech was that you couldn't twist its meaning to deceive yourself into thinking, consciously or unconsciously, that it's something else. Zexion knows the power of veiled speech, after all, he practices it every second, in his words, in his conversations with the rest of the Order, in his head. You can say something and mean another and get it to mean yet another thing to your listener, and it becomes a game to see who is the one who gets trapped in that web of lies.

Zexion usually wins, or even if he doesn't, there's a small measure of triumph in knowing his opponent's speech patterns and how they spoke and when there's a next time (there's always a next time), Zexion knows exactly how to bring them down on their knees.

That is why Zexion delights in lies.

Lexaeus doesn't, or at least, Zexion had never seen him lie, never seen him deliberately twist truths or information when he's asked for them. Maybe he didn't have the capacity to do it.

Maybe he just didn't bother. It's a very likely direction for Lexaeus to take, almost characteristic of him.

"You...shouldn't be here." It's as plain as Zexion can manage, and it's difficult, stripping the veiled barbs and riddles from his speech, because he is just so used to playing word games minute by minute. And he doesn't need to do it, really, because Lexaeus doesn't mind, doesn't care, but he did it anyway, without knowing exactly why he gives Lexaeus that concession.

And even though it isn't a question, it isn't posed as one, Lexaeus' reply is simple, honest, and Zexion's shocked to discover, brutal.

"The Superior called me, so I came."

Loyalty. Maybe not totally blind loyalty, but Zexion can taste it all the same, see it in Lexaeus' huge frame and his hands, hands that killed when told to do so. Hands that once held only books and plants and handled dead bodies with a gentleness that the rest of them couldn't be bothered to offer in another life.

"It'll kill you."

Demyx complains that he finds their conversations too cryptic to follow sometimes, like there was some funny time bubble in-between where Lexaeus and Zexion would hold parts of their conversations and then returned to the normal time flow, still carrying on with the same conversation. It drove Demyx completely mad, trying to figure out what they were talking about. Zexion finds himself smirking when Demyx reveals that, but says nothing to enlighten him, even when Demyx turns beseeching eyes on him.

This is one of their secrets, and Zexion sees no reason or need to divulge it. The ability to almost read each other's thoughts, without speaking them out loud, it's something he holds dear to him, and it's just so comfortable, not having to explain his motives or deal with accusations.

But sometimes, even Zexion wishes that Lexaeus could say a little more, instead of simply reading his body language and the truths it speaks. Or that Lexaeus would lie, just a little.

He hops down, boots clicking against the ground, and holds out a towel. Lexaeus takes it without hesitation, somehow he knows that Zexion will not play games with him, moving the towel out of reach at the last moment. Zexion thinks it's because he's not childish enough for that, and that he's not human enough to play silly, teasing games.

It's another unspoken agreement between them, not to fall back on old memories and old personalities, because they don't have the hearts to miss them anymore.

The silence hangs between them, and Zexion feels a little triumphant in having the last word, even though he was sure that there hadn't been any competition between them. But the memory of Lexaeus' quiet declaration of loyalty to the Order, even at the cost of his own beliefs and his values, that had stung, and maybe Zexion doesn't want to hear Lexaeus speak his plain truths for now. Or ever.

"I know."

His head snaps up a fraction, but he knows he can't hide that gesture, it's too late and his body's said it's piece, and his mouth opens and shuts with nothing to offer. Lexaeus is unapologetic, he can see it in those blue eyes, we agreed and he purses his own thin lips and tries not to look away in an attempt to be the aloof character he professed to be.

Only Lexaeus can shatter that facade, with his damningly calm acceptance of this new fate, this new life.

Zexion remembers how Elaeus had lost his heart, without cries of denial or tears or curses like the others, but with the same, quiet acceptance that this was how it ended. He wonders if Lexaeus would go the same way.

"Zexion."

His gaze flickers and it's a split-second decision that he steps forward, gripping the edge of Lexaeus' sleeve (not his hand, not yet, but soon, he promises himself), and he manages to surprise Lexaeus again in months.

"Don't let it kill you."

Lexaeus does not give an answer this time.