Disclaimer: Augh, beginning to think I should skip these, it's so apparently not mine.

Author's Notes: I uh. Really have no excuse for this taking five months. Except for I lost my passion for this story and it took me until now to get it back. For that, I apologize. I've gotten much faster at writing, though (not that you'd be able to tell, hah, five months for an update, I AM SO SORRY GUYS SERIOUSLY I AM YOU ARE PATIENT AND I LOVE YOU), since I wrote most of this today. Happy late Christmas, have some angst and sadfic, I'm sure that's what you all wanted, right?

Dedications: To Evil-Pixie-Dust, because she is fantastic and I miss her terribly right now.

Chapter 10 – Tell Me Something New

The alarm goes off.

A hand stretches out and smacks the offending noise maker until it shuts off. Demyx stretches slowly, rubbing at his eyes to get the crusts off of them, glad for the lack of noise. A disgruntled mutter comes from behind him, and a limp arm and leg are flung over his prone form, their warm weight pressing him back down into the mattress. A tired sort of discomfort, petulant in the way that only someone half-awake can be, crests over him, dragging and pulling and inexorable like gravity.

"C'me back to beedddd," Axel's thought-voice comes, indistinct. "Where're you goin', stay here, you're waaaarm." Demyx stifles a laugh as he sleepily pushes the offending limbs off, and he wonders briefly why he's not more

tired, why his mind is snapping and painfully awake even this early.

"Axel, I have to get up. C'mon, you have to let me go."

The response to that is entirely incoherent but probably rude, so Demyx nudges Axel again, grinning. "Nnnnngh, no, warm," comes a whine from beneath the covers. "Stay sleepin'."

"You know, if you don't let go of me, I'll take you on the run with me. See how warm you are after that."

Demyx chuckles to himself as Axel almost immediately unwraps himself from Demyx and flips over, dragging most of the blanket with him. It makes it easier to slide off of the bed without a warm body wrapped around him, and Demyx feels remarkably clear headed this morning all in all. (He still tries to not think about why, and sort of hates himself for doing it. He shouldn't be avoiding the reason, but… he can't really help it either, can he?)

It's easy, routine to pull on his running pants, the ratty and stained shirt he always uses, and he jogs down the rickety stairs with a spring in his step that he wants to enjoy and deny at the same time. He finds his rhythm easily, nodding to the people passing by, their impact no more than a gentle push against his psyche.

Around the corner, heel-toe, heel-toe, and Demyx breathes in the crisp, damp morning air. It fills his lungs in a sharp sort of way, the aftertaste coming sweet and clear and halfway painful, and he doesn't hurt. God, he doesn't hurt, and it is marvelous how easy it is to run by people without being dragged down by their pain. He pushes himself faster, lengthening his strides to settle out the burn.

He's calmed by his run, by the simple motion of his legs moving him, one powerful step at a time, and he loses track of exactly where he's going, letting his instincts guide him to where he needs to go. It's been years since he's let himself run like this, all out and without care and it's… liberating. He missed it. Probably more than he'd like to admit sometimes. He hates it when he has to restrain himself, and that's all the past few years have been; restraint. No Demyx, don't do this, Demyx, you can't do that and now….

Demyx inhales, closes his eyes very briefly as he moves, and when he opens them it's-

-nighttime, and there's a heavy weight on his shoulder; he's carrying someone, their body a limp, warm weight against him, and he's pulling images from their mind to make sure that yes, this is the way to go, just up this street and to the right and-

Demyx comes to a halt, breathing hard. He blinks, morning light flaring in his eyes.

What?

He shakes his head, closes his eyes, and rests his hands on his knees as he sucks in heavy breaths. Fuck, Demyx stopped too quickly. But what was that memory there? Nothing he particularly recognizes, but at the same time … it's definitely his. It has all the flavor of being his. He chews on his lip absently and checks out the street signs, trying to see where he is; he's never been up this street before, hasn't gone anywhere here, actually, and come to think of it, now that he's looking around, Demyx doesn't even know where he is. The streets and storefronts around him are completely foreign upon closer inspection. He swears under his breath, turns around. His footsteps beckon him back to his apartment.

Demyx frowns and cocks his head. Something about this area is starting to look... incredibly familiar, like he's seen it before, walked it a million times, but he knows he's never been here before.

But if he goes up that street there and takes a right….

Biting his lip, Demyx cautiously extends his mind.

Water.

He recoils.

Water, slow dripping and smooth, an endless still pond of emotions, and in the distance, the faintest glow of a sigil-lotus.

The innate knowledge of a name.

Zexion.

Demyx runs. Desperately this time, back to safety, back away from Zexion because he can't. He can't see Zexion. That's asking for trouble. What if, what if, what if, flies through Demyx's mind and he shakes his head, careening around the corners back to his apartment. He has no room for what ifs. He can't afford them.

He's better now. And he doesn't want to see the look on Zexion's face again. He already felt the pain of what he had done to Zexion from the inside, he…

…is back in front of his apartment. He darts up the stairs, two at a time, rattling the whole structure, and he can't take this anymore. Opening the door, he gets inside. Shutting it behind him locks Zexion out, keeps him away, and Demyx will take that. Zexion doesn't ever have to see him again.

No matter how much Demyx wants to apologize.

No matter how confused Zexion must be about what happened.

His apartment is silent except for his heavy breathing, and Demyx shakes his head, pushes himself away from the door and heads into the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on. Axel likes having something to wake up to, and he figures it's the least he can do since he rolled out of bed this morning.

Demyx sighs heavily, his heart finally returning to its normal pace, and he heads into his bedroom to lean against the doorframe and eye the lump of blankets on his bed. Yep. Doesn't look like Axel's moved much.

"Are you out of bed yet?" he asks, pitching his voice just right to be absolutely impossible to ignore.

From the bed, there's a rustling motion as blankets and pillows are pushed aside. Emerging from the depths, Axel grumbles at Demyx, his face a pale semi-circle in the wild mass of red that comprises his hair. Demyx has to muffle a laugh. Axel has never been the most graceful person to wake up. Entertaining, but not graceful. "Yeah, I'm awake. Against my will, but awake."

"Why is it against your will?"

"Because some health freak decided to go running and took all of the warmth with him so I couldn't get back to a comfortable sleep. Here's a hint: the health freak is you and I hate you; please tell me you've made coffee."

Demyx shakes his head, amused. "You're in luck, there's a pot brewing as we speak."

"You are a lovely and wonderful person."

"Suck up."

"Damn straight." Axel pushes himself upright and yawns widely, scratching at his slim torso as he does. Blearily looking at Demyx, he asks, "Want me to make us some pancakes?"

Demyx nods. "I'm going to get a shower real fast though, okay?"

Axel waves him off, and Demyx takes that as the acknowledgement it is and heads into the shower. By the time he's done, Axel has breakfast ready, and Demyx hops into his work clothes. "Can you drive me into work?" he asks, grabbing a few slices of bread and fixing a sandwich quickly to take in.

"Not a problem, kid. Just get-" Axel looks up, grins. "Never mind, you're already ready to go. Come on, then."

The drive is quiet, something Demyx appreciates with the turmoil of his thoughts. Why had he started going towards Zexion's apartment? It just doesn't make sense. He shouldn't even really remember where it is, and given what he did to Zexion the last time they saw each other… Well. Demyx sighs heavily, an uneasy knot of guilt sitting low in his stomach. He shouldn't have any reason for wanting to see Zexion again. Not really. Not unless he was going to do something like finish the job, which is just.

Demyx laughs under his breath, and the noise is mostly manic and unsettled, interrupting the quiet taps of Axel's fingers against the steering wheel. If he was really going to finish the job… Just take and take until Zexion had nothing else left to give, Demyx is more screwed up than he gave himself credit for. He already violated Zexion's thoughts. He didn't think he was the sort of person to want to try and destroy someone completely. In his periphery, he can see Axel glance his way, but the hospital is right in front of them, and Demyx jumps at the chance to get out before Axel can ask.

"Hey, thanks," he says, leaning down into the car. "For coming over last night and for the ride in this morning."

Axel waves it off, but his green eyes are sharp on Demyx, piercing. Swallowing, Demyx grins, trying to appear gentle, unthreatening, completely okay, and Axel must buy it, since the redhead just smiles back. "Anytime, Demyx. You know I always want to hang out more without there being a club around us."

"I know."

"Want me to pick you up tonight?"

Shaking his head, Demyx backs away, up onto the curb. "Nah, you're good. I'll talk to you later though, okay?"

Axel nods, and Demyx shuts the car door, turning to walk into the hospital and begin his shift.

The hospital slides around him, and it's… quiet. Demyx can still sense everything that is within the walls, but it all seems muted and far away, the chatter of a far off crowd that he has no intention of getting nearer to. It makes him almost able to focus for once, and isn't that a change? With light steps, Demyx heads up to his station, a cautious smile on his face. His large-bodied manager is sitting at the front desk in the pediatric ward, and Demyx waves.

"Hey, Lexaeus!"

Lexaeus looks up, blinks at Demyx, then squints, a smile crossing his face. "Ah yes, you are cleared for duty again, aren't you?"

"Yep. It's been a week now." Demyx fidgets with the hem of his scrubs, a frown twisting the corner of his mouth. "I am able to work again, aren't I? I'm not just imagining that?"

He looks up as Lexaeus stands, walks over to him. The large man puts a hand on Demyx's shoulder and examines him, his eyes traversing the whole length of Demyx's body. Demyx licks his lips, but stands still under his scrutiny. Through the contact in his shoulder, he can feel relief, concern, all in geometric angles and reflections, glittering stony emotions, and the large nurse nods slowly. "You look much better," he rumbles, quietly. "Like you've been taking care of yourself and getting some sleep again. Before, you looked… run over, at least. Or like you were going to fall apart any second. Do you feel better?"

Demyx licks his lips. Opens his mouth. "Yes. Yeah, I do. I mean, it's been … nice to have the time off, I guess. You know. Get to think, hang out with friends. Whatever."

Smiling, Lexaeus nods, claps Demyx on the shoulder (almost knocking him over in the process), and goes to sit back down. "That's good. That's what we had worried about. Little things are important, you know. Now. Why don't you go pick up your charts and get started checking out the patients. There are at least some of them who were asking after you."

And Demyx would be lying if he said that didn't bring an honest grin to his face.

He grabs his clipboard and heads off to the children, his steps light and hopeful. It's as Lexaeus says; when he gets to the rooms, the children he knows are lighting up and happy to see him. Denzel seems less pessimistic about his opportunities of survival for once and grins freely up at Demyx, chattering to him excitedly about one of his friends who had come in to speak with him earlier. When Demyx enters Kairi's room, she squeals and hides something under the blanket and almost refuses to let him check her vitals because she's "working on something for you, you dummy! It gets unlucky if you see it before it'd done!"

Demyx lets Kairi chide him out of the room, laughing under his breath as he goes.

As he straightens up from his laughter, writing something down in his notebook, a flash of a long black coat appears in the corner of Demyx's vision, and his heart picks up, stuttering into a loud and uneven rhythm against his sternum. Surely…

Zexion?

But no, it's just another parent of one of the kids here, one who flashes Demyx a concerned look as he hurries past, and Demyx can feel the blood slowly return to his face. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, he thinks as he slowly sinks down, resting his back against the nearest wall. He can't. God, he had thought that was Zexion, that Zexion had come here to face him down, to pin him down and force him to explain what he has done.

Demyx wouldn't have had any way to escape if Zexion had, and he lets out a muffled and uneasy laugh. It dies into silence the next moment as Demyx comes to an awful and slow realization, his guts twisting uncomfortably.

Zexion could see him again.

And Demyx wouldn't be able to stop him.

Not if he came to the pediatric ward. It's not like anyone would have a reason to stop him from asking about Demyx, either. Not around here. Everyone would remember that Demyx was Sora's attending nurse, and most everyone would remember Zexion, the quiet man who sat for hours on end outside a door he wasn't allowed through.

But is he going to come? Is he going to drop in and pull Demyx to the side, bruises and madness beneath his eyes?

Demyx doesn't know.

Honestly, that bothers Demyx more than he'd like to admit. He wants to know, with a sick sort of fascination, if Zexion is going to try and see him, if he's going to have his secret spilled messily in public. There's a sicker part of him that wants Zexion to do it. Just so he doesn't have to hide anymore. So all of the blame can be taken off his shoulders and his life will become someone else's problem. He can't pretend that it's not true, or that he wouldn't be taken away to be looked at, prodded. In a world of psychically null people, is he the only one who can do things like this? Or are there others, also in hiding?

He can be an example.

"Don't be like me. You'll die. Hide better, cover your tracks better, or take care of yourself before someone else does."

Demyx shakes his head, jittery. Wow, he needs to go back to work and pay attention again. The hallway he's in feels almost stifling with worry and a fatalistic belief that everything will end in death, and he needs to clear that up. Before anyone else comes in and is affected by it. Closing his eyes, Demyx breathes in and tries to pull the oppressive feel of the air into him, turning it like he did with Axel's bitterness the night before. It responds sluggishly, but eventually twists itself into a more breathable atmosphere. Hopefully one of relaxation, but Demyx will settle for neutral at the moment.

He pushes himself up slowly. He has work to still finish, rounds to complete.

He's fine.

And as long as he keeps telling himself that, it's true.

There's nothing wrong.

He's fine.

Axel isn't there when he makes it back to his apartment at the end of the evening, which is probably a good thing. Demyx sits down on his bed, rubs his face, and really wishes that he felt as good as he had that morning, not as worn out as he does. But as he waits and eats and reads a book in the fading light in his apartment, the exhaustion slowly slips off from him. He isn't as stable as he was this morning, that much it absolutely certain, but he isn't as bad as he normally is either. He'll take the small victory that is.

Demyx sighs into the lonely darkness of his sloppy apartment and lies down. God, and it had only been yesterday where he had thought that what he had could be useful. He shakes his head. Whatever. It doesn't matter. Demyx just needs to sleep it off.

With that in mind, Demyx closes his eyes and buries himself under his warm blankets.

Zexion, wide-eyed and blank-faced, a shell of what he used to be, heavy bruises under his eyes, and he can't sleep, can't talk, can't do anything because Demyx broke him. Demyx broke him and Demyx doesn't care. Just keeps coming back to dip his fingers inside Zexion's brain to feed the tearing daggers of pain so they don't get to Demyx first.

Demyx doesn't care.

Zexion pleads with him for help, quiet tears tracing down his face that is unrecognizable in his agony. But he is agonized because Demyx gave it all to him didn't he? It's all Demyx's fault. Zexion had done nothing wrong, absolutely nothing, but Demyx just went through there and tore him apart. Demyx helps himself to the calm of Zexion's mind, tearing it further asunder with nothing more than a laugh, callous and cruel, and he will go on forever.

Demyx doesn't care. He will do this forever to feel better and he will feel nothing and-

Demyx wakes up, the echoes of screams in his ears and body cold with fear-sweat. Guilt crushes him, and it has no edges, is endless and vast because it is his and his alone, crushing him slowly. It weighs on him, what he's done, and Demyx holds his knees to his chest, breathing in and out in labored breaths.

"I'm sorry, Zexion."

He curls around himself tighter, knowing that his apology means nothing, that he cannot say sorry enough for what he had done (for what he might do again, he thinks, guilty and sick and hating himself), for the absolute and terrible invasion he committed. He is disgusting, worthless. Cruel. Needlessly hurting one of the only people, the only person he's ever known who feels right to him.

Now there is nothing he can ever do to make it up.

And there is no one to blame but himself.

"I'm sorry."

A hiccoughing sob, dry and without tears. Painful, all the same, because there is no amount of tears that could ever give Demyx catharsis.

"I'm so sorry."

There is nothing that can forgive him for what he's done.

.end chapter 10.

Beta-d by: Evil-Pixie-Dust!

Once more, if you'd like to read a scene that happens later in the story, please, feel free to check out the story "Only Light You See"! It's set later in this story and may (or may not) increase your interest in the eventual plot of this story! (and yes this will show up on every chapter until we get to that chapter, at which point I will wildly pimp it out, and then you'll be free of this. You still have a while to go.)

Notes for this chapter are: I promise plot things are happening here. And more Plot Things are happening soon! Big plot things! Big plot things that remind me why I slog through the slower chapters like this one to get to the meaty stuff. This is important, yes, because it's a slow journey for Demyx still. But a good one, all in all. Reviews are appreciated, but not required, and all are responded to! (Especially since now is Christmas break and I actually have this thing called TIME. Hurk, college, work, etc etc)