Chapter: 053 – 221a.
Location: London
Characters: Zexion, Lexaeus
Rating/Warnings: G.
Summary: Zexion is left alone with his thoughts in the cold London night.
Author's note: Second of the two shorter chapters. We'll try to keep updating throughout the holidays, but we may also be shamelessly late. u.u

Chapter 053 : London – 221a.


It was dark, only a faint mix of falling snow and sputtering streetlights casting blurred shadows across the ceiling and far wall. The world London might not be quite as technologically advanced as Radiant Garden or the Big Apple, but the city was large and bustling in its own right, never quite fell asleep. For a place full of people it still allowed for comfortable anonymity, and the distant murmur of the city's pulse despite the late hour made for quite a soothing backdrop.
He studied the shadow patterns in the ceiling, Lexaeus' sleeping form a comfortable presence beside him, the larger man's breathing so deep and steady it calmed him just listening to it.

Zexion thoughtfully contemplated his own sanity.

The fever had been severe and out-drawn; the risk for permanent damage to the brain a very real threat. The doctors had been concerned and asked he stayed under their surveillance for at least another week, but it hadn't taken many days for Axel's and Larxene's wild tales to become so outrageous even the gossiping youngest nurses had started to grow suspicious.
So they'd left, found these simple but decently clean rooms to rent. Simple for discretion rather than price; it wasn't as though they weren't heavily laden with gold for once. Small, discreet rooms... Still close to a hospital. Just in case.
Not that the risk of him or Vexen falling ill again was really very likely, but... Just in case.
At least the neighbors were quiet and kept mostly to themselves.

He shifted slightly.
The fever didn't seem to have left any lasting damage aside from the hardly unexpected weakness and fatigue.

He knew the others worried; he was certainly not stupid, he knew very well the dangers and risks outdrawn bouts of high fever presented. The Neophytes might be too uneducated to realize the potential problem, but Vexen and Lexaeus kept shooting him concerned glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Analyzing, assessing, silently wondering.

Surely it would have been obvious by now if something had gone so horribly wrong.

He certainly didn't feel less cerebrally capable than usual.
But he wouldn't, would he, he thought with the faintest shadow of a self-ironic smirk. Fools never know they're fools, do they?
Perhaps I'm really quite insane even now, without realizing.
His smirk tugged derangedly at the corners of his mouth and he forced it off his lips.

Can a Nobody even be truly insane? The obvious question to follow such thoughts.

An interesting problem, really. Twistedly, calculatedly eccentric like Xemnas, or a raving slave to lunar siren songs like Saïx, perhaps, but a truly broken mind? Thought, mind, memory was the very core of their existence, after all.
If you damage a Nobody's mind, does the Nobody itself become damaged?

The concept was quite intriguing and certainly merited more thorough contemplation. He amused himself by replacing the likely variables with suitable equations, running them through a few basic algorithms, and frowned in slight annoyance as muffled voices intruded on his thought-process, making it hard to concentrate.

Hearing voices, he mused sarcastically. That's rarely a good sign, especially not when somewhat doubting your grip on reality. He turned his heavy head to look towards the window, awaiting the tell-tale shadows of passers-by outside to explain the disturbance.

Zexion froze and stared.
There we mice on the windowsill.
One skinny, tall (can you describe mice as tall? If... they're walking on their hind legs, then well, yes, supposedly) one, wearing an odd hat and gesturing grandly with a small magnifying glass, and a shorter corpulent one with, with, yes, it was definitely sporting a moustache.

They weren't the large, fairly humanoid anthropomorphic beings they had occasionally come across throughout the worlds; they were tiny, ordinary, well... mice.

They wore clothes.

He kept staring. He could feel the first signs of a migraine coming on.

The rodents were having quite an animated discussion as they walked by, finally disappearing behind the curtains.

Zexion screamed.