DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy or anything else Square Enix. I also do not own Acquainted with the Night—that poem belongs to Robert Frost.

Warning: This story is not for the weak-hearted.

Thanks to: My reviewers, readers, and my awesome beta, Mystics Apprentice. I honestly wouldn't manage without her help.

Bête Noire

Chapter Fourteen: Loose Cannon

My mind went into overdrive as soon as Alida turned to leave. I shoved the folder under my arm and found myself reaching towards her, although I wasn't sure what I was doing. Grabbing her arms, I spun her towards me, and she stiffened when I pulled her close.

"Thank you, Alida."

Relaxing, she pushed me away. "Yeah, whatever." But she was smiling.

I watched her sigh one last time as she turned away, walking back to the office—to pack up her things, I guessed. I vaguely wondered whether I had been the reason she'd ultimately quit, but I didn't bother myself too much over it. As far as I was concerned, no one could determine her own decisions but herself.

"Good luck, Vanitas," she said, giving me a final wave of farewell.

"Thanks," I murmured, watching her disappear around the corner of the hall, "I'm gonna need all the luck I can get."

I walked home quickly, slinging the sorry excuse of a backpack over my shoulder. For a moment I forgot about motorcycles and Christmas and Lea, and all that existed was me and the manila folder I was holding in my hands. Nothing else mattered, and maybe nothing else ever would.

I slammed the door once inside, threw my backpack on the floor, and opened the file. Several sheets of paper fell to the kitchen floor. I gathered them hastily only to splay them out on the kitchen table. Bending forward, I squinted at the first one. It was a basic informational document, with Xion's full name, age, gender, address, that sort of thing (perfect for stalker-esque reasons). I pushed it aside and pulled another sheet towards me. This one was a faded photocopy of a medical document. Scanning it quickly and noting that there was nothing physically wrong with her (but then, I'd never thought as much anyway), I added this page to the not-important pile. The next document was a stapled packet that had a date stamped on the top. These, I reckoned, were the actual counseling records. Momentarily restraining my urge to delve into them, I glanced at the last sheet remaining, and froze—

But only for a second. I dropped the packet I was holding, hesitantly lifting what looked like a copy of a crumpled letter in Xion's handwriting.

What…?

I reached for the light switch—until then I'd been relying on the sunlight straining through the window—and waited for it to flicker on with bated breath. When it did, I faltered again. It was strange… I hadn't felt so nervous about doing this before. It may have been something to do with the fact that anything Xion had shared with someone else was OK for me to read, but a letter that had been found in this state was something she must not have wanted anyone to know about. If there was a reason society had wanted Xion to be counseled and kept under watch, it was this letter.

The image of Xion standing between Roxas and Ventus came to mind, and all my doubt vanished. I would read it—not as a form of revenge, or with envy, jealousy, or whatever the hell else I was feeling, but because I wanted to. And that was enough.

Dropping into a long-unused kitchen chair, I began to read.

Dad, it started, I know how much pain you must be going through right now. And after losing your wife, I am so ashamed for taking away your daughter as well.

Taking your daughter away? What did she mean?

But please, I want you to understand that I'm not leaving out of guilt. I… Some of the words that followed were blotted out with what I assumed were tears, and she had continued on the next line (with handwriting that was shakier than before) I've come to realize that this is the only way. It's best for everyone. Even if I'm not ready—more blots—I have to make this choice. It's too late for me to undo my mistakes.

I'm on the verge of losing everything I cared about, everything I still care about. I can't let this happen. I have to do this. I only hope that one day, you'll understand. I'm sorry I can't tell you more. I'm sorry I'm leaving you. Whatever happens, dad, don't blame yourself for this, or anyone else. It was my choice to go away now. Better that—the next line was so smeared with tears that it was illegible, but I could see that the words had been crossed out and rewritten after—Better that than to do nothing. I'm sorry, Dad, for making you go through this. I love you so much. Don't ever forget that.

And finally, the last lines—I could imagine Xion writing them with shaking fingers, tears dripping down onto the paper, spreading the ink in the margins and everywhere else. You'll be…better off now.

I'm sorry.

The last two words echoed in my head, but in a different voice, one that was much older, from my own memories: "I'm sorry, Vanitas."

Too late, I realized I had just read Xion's suicide letter.

Yeah, sure, she didn't succeed, I thought, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom two hours later, but she came close.

The question was, how close? I thought of the papers still scattered over the kitchen table. One didn't write a suicide note two weeks prior. Most likely, she had written it moments before her death. Failed attempt of her death, I reminded myself. But that only made me wonder about more grotesque things. Had one of those scars on her wrist been an effort to take her life? Did she overdose? Jump from a building? Worse: I could easily see her doing all those things and more. How did she fail? Did someone stop her? Now more than ever, I wanted to know. I wanted to confront her, but it had become clear to me that she wouldn't say a word. Her silent rebellion was brilliant; it wasn't just a way to shut herself in, it was also a way for her to shut everyone else out.

It had been effective so far, but that was about to change.

And that was how I found myself standing outside Xion's house only a few minutes later. Grudgingly, I'd forced myself to ride my motorbike (how was I still even allowed to drive it, anyway?) but for once I stayed well under the speed limit. Not much fun in that, but hey, there were plenty of other Leas walking around that I really didn't want to hit.

Unfortunately, Aeleus Rakiel was the one who answered the door, and he seemed surprised to see me—which, I suppose, is understandable, considering the fact that I hadn't showered in two days and my hair hadn't been brushed in who knew how long. I must have looked like a homeless guy in need of food.

"Is Xion home?" I asked. I remembered calling him so long ago, and I was momentarily worried that he would recognize my voice. He didn't seem to. He shook his head, trying to close the door without a word, but I reached out to stop him.

"Can I talk to you, then?"

His eyes widened slightly, and I saw some of Xion in the small reaction. Finally, he stepped back and let me in.

"Tea?" he asked, eyeing my state. I shrugged, which I guess he took as a "yes," because he pointed me to the living room and then moved towards the adjoined kitchen.

Xion's house was bigger than it looked on the outside. Everything was neat and perfect, clean as ever. The living room was decent sized, with two long couches on opposite walls and a fireplace in the corner. It was almost picturesque.

Speaking of pictures, the farthermost wall was covered in them. There had to be about fifty photographs, all in different sizes, like a giant museum of their lives plastered against white for everyone to see. I scanned them almost hungrily, like every photo brought me closer to understanding the phantom that was Xion. There weren't many current photographs of her, but there were definitely countless ones when she was younger, including many shots of what had to be her mother. I found myself staring at a marginally smaller picture at the center, from which all the others seem to radiate—almost as if it had been the first one there.

It was an old, faded photo of a miniature Xion sitting on her father's shoulders, her expression a mixture of fear and insurmountable happiness. The picture was frozen in time, just like all the others, but in my mind's eye, it came to life.

I imagined Xion laughing, perched atop her father's shoulders, waving her tiny arms in the air. I imagined her giggling mother holding up the camera, shaking so much she couldn't get the lens to focus.

"Hold still," she would be laughing, trying to keep her grip on the expensive camera—a loving birthday gift, no doubt—lest it slip from her fingers and crash against the asphalt.

Aeleus Rakiel gave a smile that was probably very rare these days. "We are still!"

Xion's eyes would have been alight with an innocent happiness that I only caught fleeting glimpses of now and again.

"Daddy, don't drop me!" she was squealing, wide, frightened eyes sparkling like sapphires in the sunlight.

"I won't, I won't," he reassured her, and then he feigned falling.

Xion screamed, arms and legs flailing, whacking her father in the face so he almost did trip. Still, Aeleus was laughing.

"Daddy noooo!"

More laughter. Then, "I won't drop you, Xion." He steadied. "I'll never let you go." (Because fathers are supposed to say cheesy things like that.)

Xion inhaled and exhaled loudly, prompting secretive smiles between her parents. "OK, Daddy."

"Hey, hey, enough of the mushy stuff," her mother would have scolded, "Now stand still!"

She snapped the photo, and the moment ended as soon as the blinding flash was gone, leaving Xion blinking rapidly, trying to regain her vision.

It was easy to see how different I was from her; Xion had lost a past I'd never gotten the chance to hold onto.

But now the only evidence of that cherished past was a faded image stuck to the wall, covered in so much dust that the smiles on their faces were nonexistent.

A faded image that will never be in focus…

Did it honestly matter? This wide collection of photographs, so lovingly arranged on the wall… What did they bring now but only pain and sorrow, a longing for something that could never be regained? A reminder that life would never be as good as it once was? Maybe I was lucky, given a past I would not have to look to with sadness. And yet, I still did. Maybe we're all cursed, I thought, to look at our past lives and continuously hate what had changed, and desire broken pieces of misplaced sentimentality that didn't hold any significance whatsoever.

My thoughts were starting to run along with each other again, straying from my original train of consciousness. We were all mindless human beings, unfocused, never able to zoom in—pierce the importance of one thing—and disregard everything else. Because we were all stubborn, annoying people that would never truly be happy.

"Vanitas."

I jumped. Aeleus was standing beside me, holding a small cup of steaming hot tea. Soundlessly, he held it out to me. I didn't take it. Instead, I asked, "You know my name?"

Aeleus tilted his head. "You are well known around here."

It had slipped my mind that my face had probably been on the news, or at least in the newspaper. I grimaced—not exactly my idea of fame.

Aeleus gestured for me to sit on one of the couches. This time when he placed the cup of tea in my hand, I couldn't refuse.

"What do you want with my daughter?" Uh-oh: Protective father mode on.

I cleared my throat. What do I want with Xion? "Well, I just…"

At a lack of what to say, I turned to look at the collage of photographs again, my eyes moving from one picture to the next, following the repeated image of Xion's mother. Usually, I wasn't too nice about these things, but there was something mildly intimidating about Aeleus's muscles and gaze that made me hesitate. "How… How did she die?"

Aeleus sighed. He'd obviously heard that question before. "Cancer. She was very young."

Not knowing what to say to that, I took a small sip (imaging me sipping!) of tea. Surprisingly, it tasted pretty good. I always considered myself a coffee person, but I never really liked the bitterness of coffee. Tea—and this was milk tea—sort of tasted like liquid heaven. And it reminded me of someone.

"What happened to your daughter?"

All right, maybe I should have beat around the bush a little, but I'm just not that kind of guy. I did regret it later, especially when Aeleus's light blue eyes turned a shade darker.

"What are you implying?"

I put the cup of tea on the table in case I accidentally threw it at him. "I'm sure you've noticed."

Aeleus was getting pissed off. "I don't—"

"Know what I'm talking about?" I leaned back on the sofa. "Come on. You must have noticed. I mean, you'd be stupid not to."

His eyes swam over me, angry, untrusting. "You're wrong—"

"She tried to kill herself, didn't she?"

He stared at me, obviously surprised. "How do you know this?"

"I have my ways," I said, standing up. "I also know that I'm not getting anything out of you."

Aeleus was right in front of me so fast I was afraid he'd throw a punch at me. Instead, his eyes flashed with fury, and his words were few but powerful. "Stay away from my daughter."

I didn't react to his words. I sidestepped him and made my way to the door. "Thank you for the tea."

Aeleus had a lot more self-control than it would seem. He managed not to attack me, and even as I was miles away, driving back to my house, I could remember the sensation of his eyes burning into the back of my skull. If Xion had inherited anything from her father, it was the intensity of his eyes.

I didn't find much comfort back home. Sitting by my bedroom window again, I stared out into the boring street. I caught a glimpse of Xion traipsing down the sidewalk, and I noticed she was carrying a bunch of flowers. It occurred to me, as I watched her disappear around the corner, that perhaps Xion had been right next door to me when I'd set off in quest for her house. I thought again about how much of an idiot I was for ever thinking she could be mine.

I stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night. At one point, I tried to read through Xion's counseling files. Most of it was just observations, and there were a few scribbled notes here and there that must've been written by Xion. So, there were no loopholes in (what I liked to call) her speech impediment. Her silence was absolute, like a blameless person on trial refusing to plead innocent. That was the key, wasn't it? Xion felt guilty about something. I'd figured as much back when I'd seen her scars. But I hadn't come an inch closer to figuring out what she felt so damned guilty about.

By 5 a.m. in the morning, I figured I should just stop trying to go to sleep. I swung by the hospital again, saw Terra, and walked back out without bothering to do anything else. It was pretty early so I walked to school again. It occurred to me that New Year's was just two days away. How nice. Everyone in school was annoyed about the short Christmas break and how students were being forced to attend school even on New Year's Day. They were making a big deal out of nothing, stressing about things that didn't fucking matter. Like the new gig of "Rumbling Rose" (another ridiculous band name) at some obscurely popular restaurant on New Year's Eve.

At least Xion didn't bring it up in English. She didn't mention her father either, so I figured he hadn't said anything about our little talk. As always, she got right into the poem to avoid talking about anything else. Also as always, she wasn't mad at me about before. She just opened up the poem and held it between us, even though I'd given away the fact that I already knew it by heart.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.

I have passed by the watchman on his beat

And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

She looked at me expectantly but I shook my head. "You first."

She shrugged and started scribbling on a blank sheet of paper. "The speaker of the poem is sad, that's for sure." Good guess, genius. "But he's also guilty."

"Guilty of what?"

"We don't know. But he hasn't gotten over it yet. The watchman is someone he looks up to, maybe God. And he's unwilling to explain because he's ashamed of himself. He…"

She was spot on and didn't need to explain, but somewhere along the way I stopped reading her words and just stared at the way her hand moved across the page: with precision and confidence. Probably not how it was moving when she wrote her message of farewell. And suddenly I was watching her face as she was intently scribbling away. I was motionlessly staring for so long that I didn't notice her embarrassed expression and red face until she jabbed me in the arm with her pencil to make me stop.

Not explaining, I stared down at her paper, pretending to read what she had written. What was happening to me? I didn't know what I was thinking. All I knew was that she was hurting, and that I wanted to make it stop.

Since when had I become so soft?

Later in the day, however, I discovered that my personal demon hadn't left me quite yet.

I didn't have breakfast that morning because I was too stupid to care, so I went to the cafeteria to eat something. Undoubtedly, I didn't have anything edible at home besides bread, and right now pizza sounded way better than bread.

Because I was still an underage orphan, lunch was paid for me by the government that cared about me so much. For the first time in years, I got in line, ignoring the pointed looks and hateful glares. After all, I'd almost killed someone, right? I was a criminal in everyone's eyes.

I had to redirect the gravitational pull that was yanking me towards our old table. Aqua sat there, obviously waiting for Terra. Had she taken my spot at that table, permanently? I tried not to think about it. I also tried to evade Riku when he suddenly materialized in front of me and looked at me strange, as if he wasn't sure what I was doing there (because who the hell was I?). Then he started making gestures, spouting some nonsense about me and Terra.

He was giving me that pitiful look I knew so well, and maybe it was because he could see how red my eyes were and he felt bad for the poor baby. But his next words, hastily leaving his mouth as I tried to go around him, did manage to stop me in my tracks.

"He's not here."

I cleared my throat, hating the fact that I had to. "Where is he?"

"With Lea."

Of course, stupid question.

"I see." I nodded, and made to sidestep him again, but he blocked my path. I wasn't used to holding a tray in my hands—I almost tried to punch him before realizing that doing so would send my tray flying and things probably wouldn't go too well from there.

"Why don't you sit here." It was worded like a suggestion, but it sounded more like a command.

"Look, Riku, I'm really not in the mood for—"

"OK."

"Huh?"

Riku was no longer looking at me at all. He was looking right past me over my shoulder, towards the doors of the cafeteria. I turned around to follow his gaze, but all I saw were the double doors swinging shut.

Riku turned to look at the table, and Sora—I still had mixed feelings about that kid—gave a firm nod in turn. The hell? Before I could figure out what was going on, Riku saluted and then dashed past me, barreling straight through the cafeteria doors in pursuit of someone I didn't know.

Then again, Riku had been in pursuit of someone before…

This time, I didn't care where my food went. I dropped my tray, making some girl squeal and jump away to save her ugly clothes (seriously, what's up with fashion these days?).

I sprinted back out the cafeteria doors, spotting Riku at the end of the hall, running like his life depended on it. Seriously, that guy looked too graceful doing anything. I almost laughed at how crazy my life had gotten; riding motorcycles, analyzing poems, chasing questionably-straight guys down hallways—it was all pretty hard to believe.

That aside, why was Riku so interested in Xion? And why the hell was he chasing her half the time?

I stopped at the end of the hallway. Left or right? I ran left, down another hallway and back again. No Riku in sight. Must have been right. Breathing hard, I jogged down the right hallway. Now I could hear his voice; he wasn't far.

"Listen to me," Riku was saying, his words barely coherent. "You have to…"

I strained to listen, picking up my speed. Where were they? I started to slow down when the end of the hallway neared.

"Find a new crowd." Riku, again. Of course, Xion wasn't going to say anything. "Trust me, that guy is bad news."

That guy? He better not be talking about me.

This time, I heard the sound of scuffling and Xion crying out. I almost peered around the corner but stopped myself when I heard rustling paper, and then a small, sad chuckle from Riku. "Fair enough. You could say I am…the biggest nobody of them all."

I was confused. But I was also angry, because I kept getting the feeling that Riku and Xion were sharing something between themselves, something secret, something I didn't know about.

"Hey!" I stumbled around the corner and stopped short. They were standing close—too close—and I couldn't help but notice that they were holding hands. Xion's eyes widened, the weirdest opaque blue I had ever seen. But Riku seemed otherwise unfazed, turquoise eyes mocking me, jeering at me for being unable to do anything.

But he was wrong.

Xion nearly shrieked when I grabbed Riku by the collar, but she stopped herself just in time, both hands over her mouth. My eyes went to Riku, who was still wearing that expression of ease on his face even though he was suspended in the air, my knuckles digging into his neck.

When I looked at Xion again, she shook her head as if to say "Stay away," and then dashed down the hall and out of sight. She was like a shadow, always out of reach.

Instead of chasing after her, I scrutinized Riku. He was pretty much the same size as me, but I was obviously stronger. Still, Riku wasn't going to let me get the best of him. His eyes flashed, and he reached out, ready to attack, when Sora's voice rang out from behind me.

"Stop!"

Startled, I let go of Riku's collar. He managed to catch his footing before he could fall. I turned around to glare at Sora, but my irritation melted when I caught sight of his expression. He looked betrayed.

"Why?"

I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure who his question was directed at, but I didn't care.

Ignoring Sora and Riku, I bent down to snatch a piece of paper that had been torn out of a notebook. In Xion's handwriting were just a few words: Why? You're the real sham.

I looked up at Riku, was seemed to be holding back only because Sora was there (who he kept glancing at every ten seconds.)

"What do you want with her?" I asked him. I didn't want to know, but at the same time, I had to.

Riku shook his head. "It's…not what you think." He hesitated, his eyes going to Sora. "She reminds me of…Sora. I was just trying to help."

I stood, crushing the scrap of paper in my hand. "You call this help?"

"It's better than whatever the hell you're doing, Vanitas."

And he was right.

There were still a lot of things about Xion that I didn't know. But at least I could have comforted myself with the fact that I was the only one who knew enough, the only one who could know more. But it seemed that Riku had been just as busy as I'd been, and I didn't think he was going to give up very easily.

"Vani!"

I froze. The voice had been too effeminate to be Lea's, but the nickname still sent a jolt of tangible pain somewhere through my chest. I gritted my teeth and turned around. Maybe I should have just gone home after lunch. But with a few more hours left, I had decided to stick around. My next class was only a few feet from here. Just a few feet. Then why did some annoying girl with blond hair and an evil grin have to ruin that for me?

"Shut up," I said. "Don't call me that."

"Why?" The girl smirked. The cocky little bitch. "Because Lea calls you that?"

I glared at her. If I didn't know better, this girl had to be…

"Relena." She was baring white teeth. "Lea's girlfriend."

"Oh, well, you seem to be very concerned about the fact that he's in a coma and he could never wake up." I couldn't believe how easily I could say something like that.

The comment didn't seem to bother her at all. She just sneered at me, hands on her hips. "I could say the same thing for you, seeing as you put him there in the first place. But that's OK. It's in your blood, right?"

I took a step toward her. "What the hell are you going on about?"

Relena wasn't about to back down. "I know all about him, Vanitas. All about your good-for-nothing father and his—"

"Shut up!"

This time she really did stop, just a little anxious at the loudness of my voice. A couple people turned to see what was going on, and a few began to chant for a fight. I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction this time. I may have been vulgar and empty, but I wasn't gonna hit a girl—not for something this small, anyway. Then again, if she said another word about my father…

"Mr. Hunter."

Wasn't the day just full of surprises? Relena's mouth dropped open as she gazed at the person behind me. I hadn't heard the voice in a while—I had been skillfully avoiding him for the past two months—but I didn't need to see the ridiculously long silver hair or bright blue eyes to know who it was.

Sephiroth: my personal henchmen from the government that cared.

The first thing I was aware of after the incident was seeing scorch marks on my hands and wondering how they had gotten there. The people around me, all strangers, refused to tell me where I was or how I'd arrived at this massive building that looked nothing like home but came along with all the same bitter feelings.

I remember locking myself into the room they'd given me; one with no windows and a small cot in one corner—like a prison cell, I recall thinking. I remember curling up onto the bed and waiting for the tears to come. The sound of rain against the worn-out roof was hypnotizing, and I laid there, my eyes wide open, thinking of nothing. For once my thoughts didn't wander. My mind was a clear sheet of white emptiness.

There were several knocks on the door, distant, as if in another universe. The rapping became sharp, impatient, and I sat up, my golden eyes trained on the door, which was suspiciously peppered with scratch marks and peeling wood.

"Y…yes?"

"Vanitas Hunter? You're needed in the office."

The cold, emotionless voice sent a shudder through me, and for a second the sound of water pelting the rooftop magnified tenfold. I heard retreating footsteps behind the door, and I found it hard to believe this was how things were going to be from then on. That no one would give me a second glance, that I would be just another depressed kid amongst hundreds of others—and no one would give a damn.

I got to my feet, swaying for a moment as the world came rushing back to me. I opened the door, trying in vain to remember when I had locked it, how long I had lain there in a black abyss. I found myself wandering the hallways of the orphanage, staring at anyone who passed by—they must have thought I was crazy—and trying to figure out where the "office" was.

It ended up being the room across from mine, a sleek black door with marginally no wear and tear. I entered the office slowly, hoping it was empty, hoping I would be able to go back to my room and continue thinking of nothing.

"Mr. Hunter?"

I had never been addressed as such, and for a second I was unsure; perhaps they had mistaken me for my father? But the man spoke again, after a small sigh. "Vanitas?"

I stepped into view. "That's…that's me." I cleared my throat. I didn't like how my voice was shaking. The man that sat behind the desk looked as expressionless as I had imagined; his eyes were so dark they looked black. Like pits. I shivered involuntarily.

"Sit."

I took a deep breath and dropped into the seat in front of him, one that vaguely reminded me of torture chairs I had seen in a movie once.

I waited for the man to speak. When he didn't, I asked shakily, "You wanted me here?"

The man nodded, brushing his uncharacteristically long silver hair out of his face, and for a second I imagined warmth in his eyes, a flicker of fake concern—a premonition at the most.

"Yes. Vanitas, I am obligated to ask you… What did you see?"

I was confused. It was strange to be a treated almost as if I were an adult, strange that I had authority over whatever I told him. But I wasn't about to be fooled.

"I don't understand."

I answered honestly, because I was sure he would see through any lies.

The man folded his hands on the desk in front of him. He had several tiny scars on his knuckles—familiar scars. Almost automatically, I pushed my chair backward, away from him. He didn't notice.

"We would like to know what you saw tonight, Vanitas."

I had no idea what he was talking about. Not then. What I had seen tonight? Frustratingly, I couldn't remember anything. Just that something horrible had happened, something horrible I had done. An overwhelming feeling of guilt knotted in my stomach, and still I shook my head. "I can't… I can't remember."

"Are you sure?"

"I… I don't know." I looked down at my hands, small, calloused, weak. I felt ashamed, because this man said I was supposed to remember and I couldn't. Tears welled up in my eyes. Why was I crying?

I coughed, covering my mouth, and looked up to see the man staring at me curiously, like I was a plaything he was to observe. I wanted to hate him, but instead I found myself trying to please him. I was a coward, even back then.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, "I can't remember anything."

This time the warmth wasn't imagined. I looked back at his knuckles—no scars. Had I imagined them, too? I realized I'd been holding my breath, and I exhaled slowly, deeply.

A question nagged at me. "Where…my mother…I…"

The words were hard to form, but the man understood what I was trying to say because his expression visibly hardened. "It's too late to discuss these things right now. I would like you to go to bed and get some rest."

I stood up without thinking, but paused again at the doorway.

"I… I don't know what to call you."

The man looked up from some papers on his desk. His eyes weren't dark at all; they were a bright cross between blue and green, almost welcoming. He looked…amused. "What would you like to call me?"

"Your…first name." I nodded. "Yeah. First name."

The fleeting amusement was gone. "Call me Sephiroth."

Such a strange name, I thought. But I was too afraid to ask what it meant, fearing he would ask for mine in return.

"Good night, Sephiroth," I managed.

He nodded at me. "Good night, Vanitas."

The present Sephiroth didn't look nearly as intimidating as he had once seemed. His catlike cyan eyes flashed at Relena over my shoulder, and I heard her shuffle backwards.

I turned around and waved. "Bye, Relena."

She didn't look at me at all. With one last glance at Sephiroth, she adjusted her backpack and left, tossing frightened glimpses over her shoulder. Yeah, Sephiroth had that effect.

"Nice seeing you again," I said to Sephiroth, trying to keep my voice nonchalant. He didn't smile. He didn't glare either, just crossed his arms.

"You've been avoiding me."

I shrugged. "Yeah well, you know how I've been. Busy, busy."

"Busy sending people to hospitals, you mean."

I cringed. "Really? You too? Just when I think someone's on my side…"

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. "I am on your side. But you have to meet me halfway, Mr. Hunter."

"Vanitas." I corrected him. "And if you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have the means to do that."

"I have been informed that you are in possession of a motorbike, yes?"

I balked. "Is that why they didn't strip my license? So I could stop by the orphanage?"

Sephiroth's silence confirmed my suspicions. "Stop by tomorrow, Mr. Hunt—Vanitas. Four o'clock. My office."

"Or what?"

"Or we're taking you back."

"What do you mean 'taking me back?'" I demanded. "You can't honestly be saying—"

The bell rang. I was late. Sephiroth didn't seem to hear it at all. "Recently, your living conditions have been less than sufficient. If you do not make it to this meeting, we will bring you back." Somehow, his eyes softened. "I know you don't want to come back. Be there at four."

He nodded, once, and then strode past me. I felt my hands clenching into fists. I would never go back there, no matter what happened. Why was it that I kept getting pummeled with more things to worry about?

Instead of heading to the office for a pass or to my next class, I headed for the guidance office before remembering Alida had left. I guess I should have realized I couldn't keep using her to take my mind off things. I'd already seen what that had done. Shit, why was I so twisted and messed up? Wanting to punch something, I ended up denting some poor kid's locker just as the last bell ring. I glared up at the ceiling, surprised. I hadn't realized how long I'd been prowling the hallways. Stalking down the hall, I told myself I would go straight home so I could break another chair or something. My blood was boiling, and I felt the heat spreading throughout my body, threatening to swallow my whole being.

I kept my head down as I walked, tuning out the chatter around me, and made a dash for the door, pushing aside several protesting students. I felt a restless beast within me, struggling against its binds to free itself. It was getting harder and harder to keep it restrained, with each passing thought of Xion with the twins, Xion with Riku, Xion with anyone else but me.

"Stay away from my daughter."

"We will bring you back."

"It's in your blood, right? I know all about him, Vanitas. All about your good-for-nothing father and his…"

"Hey there, Vanitas!"

That last voice wasn't in my head. I looked up, but regretted responding immediately when Ventus grinned at me, obviously unaware of my gritted teeth and cracking knuckles. That kid just didn't know how to take a hint. He was the idiot one, obviously. Ventus.

"Did you hear?" he went on, still grinning from ear to ear. "Roxas asked Xion out!"

Why? Why did he think I would like to know something like that? Why did he not realize that was probably the worst thing he could have said to me in that instant? I was looking at him, but all I could see was that face being what Xion would look forward to every day. Ventus's disgustingly cheerful expression wavered.

I was on him in seconds, punching, yelling, beating him to the ground. I wish he'd said something. I wish he'd told me to stop. I wish he had defended himself. But he just let himself get pummeled. And I kept screaming, hitting him. I might have killed him too, if someone hadn't grabbed me from behind and yanked me off him. I could see the silent acceptance on his face, like he didn't mind the fact that I had nearly killed him, that he was already bleeding all over. And that only made me mad. I launched myself at him again, but I'd forgotten about the person who had dragged me off him in the first place until he was right in front of me, with the same hair, the same eyes, the same face—just a whole lot angrier.

"What are you doing?"

I glared at him. "Showing him his place."

Roxas was shaking, half in fury, and half in something else. "What did he ever do to you?"

Nothing. He did nothing to me. "Out of my way, wimp."

Roxas's eyes flashed. His voice shook, but he stood his ground. "No."

I sneered. "You wanna try that again?"

He faltered. I could sense his fear, could see it flicker across the blue hues of his eyes. He sucked in a breath, as if he was about to scream, but all he did was shake his head. It looked like it had taken every ounce of his willpower to make that one movement, and the fact that he was bracing himself, that he assumed I wouldn't hold back threw me off. This was the guy who knew. Who knew I wasn't as good as everyone thought I was, who knew I could kill him—would kill him—in the next few seconds.

But why wasn't I moving? There was a crowd surrounding the three of us, but none of them were chanting. They watched, horrified, as I moved forward. Roxas stood before me, eyes full of fear but determination, and behind him, Ventus cowered in pain.

I raised my fist. My whole body was shaking from the effort. I knew I had to stop, that if I didn't, I would lose myself forever. But for once it didn't sound so bad. Not if this was the real me. If that were true, I wouldn't mind losing myself at all.

"What are you waiting for?" For a guy who was about to piss his pants, Roxas had some nerve. His voice broke the last chord that had been hanging in the air, and my fist came down on his face, the impact throwing him sideways. Someone screamed, as Roxas got to his feet, staggering slightly, his cheek already turning purple from the bruise.

I swung again, this time catching him in the arm. He ducked, and just when I was wondering if he would fight back, his foot slammed into my leg. I swore, lunging at him again. This time, I would make him pay. I would—

"Roxas!"

Everyone froze. Time itself appeared to hesitate. The people around me had stopped breathing through the midst of a collective gasp. I'd always told myself that I would hear her voice one day, that I would make her talk, make her answer me. Break through her walls or build them to replace the nonexistent ones. I still wonder how I even recognized that shrill, broken scream, how the sound of his name, his name and not mine, nearly stole my remaining sense of self. I turned, slowly, the ragged twins disappearing, blurring through my vision.

She had broken through the circle. Her chest was rising and falling, sapphire eyes so wide I could have reached out and pulled the jewels from them. She was small, so small, so how could her voice have been so loud? Perhaps I had always known what she sounded like, through her shared thoughts and last words photocopied onto a simple page. Perhaps I had always known that I would never know her, never be able to claim her as my own. And that if she ever spoke at all, she would never speak my name, one that only meant emptiness and vanity—all the things I most certainly was.

I opened my mouth. What was I going to say? But she wasn't going to let me. Not this time. She whirled around, short black hair flowing with her movement, and the crowd parted to let her through.

I reached out as if I was close enough to grab her, as if I could stop her from leaving once again. But I was too slow, too weak.

I thought of that one last look of anguish that had settled over her features at the sight of me as she turned and ran.

Review Responses:

The Dismotivator: "So, one reason I disagreed with Xion's assumption of Vanitas being afraid of losing happiness was that he didn't have happiness in the first place, and thus cannot be afraid to lose it."

I think you're totally right on that note. I did mention that in this chapter as well. I suppose, however, that the time Vanitas spent before, at least some select memories with his mother, may have been close to happy. Then again, you don't know much about his past anyway, so we shall see when more is revealed…

"Personally, I hope we see her again. After this, she's about as awesome as Axel was in... everywhere."

Goodness, that awesome? Haha, I'm not sure if we will, but it'll probably happen. I try to keep characters consistent, even minor ones. Even ones you may have forgotten. *Mysterious music*

"You know, I've always wanted to see counseling files. But how do you know what's in them? Are you a counselor? O_o Or... a SPY...?"

Eh? *scoff* How could I possibly be a spy? (It seems I may have to eliminate you now that you have found out) Anyway, no, I don't, I just sort of assumed. I hope it was believable.

Mrmeowski: "I like how seem vanitas is almost releasing a bunch of pent up aggression and anger from when he was young."

Thanks! It's what I've been going for, anyway. He definitely has problems relating to his past. Hopefully, Xion will help him get through them, eh?

Well, that's it for review replies.

Sorry for keeping everyone waiting so long. I hope this long chapter makes up for it, and also stirs up a lot of commotion in your brains. Any theories about Vanitas's past? Any angry rants, surprised gasps? We all knew Xion was going to speak sooner or later. Or at least, I knew, hehe….

All feedback is welcome. The next chapter will not take as long, hopefully. Thanks again to all my reviewers, and also, a great big hug from me because I REACHED 50 REVIEWS! I was honestly so happy when I got my 50th review. It's been a pleasure so far. Let's have faith that this awesomeness continues :)

Until next time, my lovelies!

(By the way, you're welcome for the cliffhanger!)

~DestinyCrusader