1.

Kairi woke up slowly. "Anything?" she asked, before her eyes had even focused.

Ienzo sighed. "I'm afraid not." He began detaching her from the monitors.

Her own sigh was heavy, derelict. She sat up, rolling her shoulders, stretching. They woke her every five days-to be unconscious for so long was inhumane, good neither for her body or mind. Not good for them either, to work so constantly, but Ienzo cared less about this.

"It isn't easy, to trace a heart," he added. "We're all working as hard as we can-but it's beyond nebulous, beyond, even, theory."

"I know," she said. She smoothed her short hair. "I just… I thought I would feel him. I… don't." She forced a smile.

"I sincerely wish I had better news," he said. More than a little harrowing, to see her moroseness.

"I know you're doing your best," she said. She stood, a bit shakily. She nodded once. "I'm going to go clean up. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Ienzo watched her leave, feeling a bit dazed. He set down his tablet, smoothed the chair where she slept. His eyes ached.

"...You woke her on your own?" Even asked. He'd gone out for some books. "I'd hoped to check her vitals."

"She's stable. Like she always is. I was trained in first aid, you know."

Even rolled his eyes. "Did she ask again?"

"She always does." He shook his head. "I'm not sure how much longer we can reasonably pursue this. There-continues to be nothing. " A thin, needy pain bloomed between his eyes; he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"...You look like you should be the one sleeping."

"You're likely right. There were some things I'd hoped to check on. I'd best do so before-"

Even frowned. "Her break in sleep functions as a break for us, too. You need rest to do good work."

"Pot calling the kettle black," he remarked. "When was the last time you slept, Even?"

He scowled. "Go on, then, boy."

Ienzo did feel more than a little shaky. Human physicality was so brutal, so constantly needy, all the time; his body felt very nearly alien. He made his way back towards his own bedroom. The ache in his head wasn't getting any better.

"Freed you at last, huh, Zo?"

He almost groaned. It was much harder to squirrel himself away now, that was for sure. "...I see your day is done early as well." This was certainly a variable he had not planned for, living here once more.

Demyx shrugged. "No more deliveries. I could just sit there, but why?"

After Xehanort's death, the other boy had nowhere to go and nothing to do; evidently he'd found some satisfaction out of bringing Ienzo the vessels, as he now worked for Scrooge McDuck as a courier. It kept him mostly out of Ienzo's hair, which was good. Convincing him to become human again had been… exhausting, but at least now there was assuredly no more bits of Xehanort. "...I see." Small talk had never been his forte, and given his tiredness was the last thing he wanted to subject himself to.

Demyx stared at him. "All good over there?"

His interest in Ienzo's work was disorienting. "The usual, I suppose."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "That sucks."

Ienzo shrugged. He was right, which was the irritating thing.

"I guess she's up and about, then? I should say hey."

"If you like. She might like some company."

Demyx didn't notice the sarcasm; or else didn't comment on it. "Awesome. See you around, Zo."

Ienzo just shook his head. "Zo" was a vast improvement over "Zexy", but he still did not care for Demyx's nicknames. It had taken the boy long enough to stop calling him Zexion.

(If he were being honest, he still made the same mistake, especially writing his own reports-his fingers would hover over that Z key for longer than they should.)

He went into his bedroom. It wasn't a large space, not helped by the clutter-books, more for research than for enjoyment, were piled around his desk. He should at the very least take the ones he no longer needed back to the library, but the library was still such a disaster. Relics of his childhood were here and there; the tapestry of constellations, storybooks gathering dust on the overpacked cherry bookshelf, a few moldering stuffed animals sitting in a box. He had no idea what to do with these things. All he knew was that looking at them made him feel vaguely ill. He shed his labcoat, loosened the ascot at his throat. He perched on the mattress and ran his fingers over the stitching of the old quilt, trying to orient himself, to prepare himself for the labor of sleep. Ienzo could feel how badly he needed it, much more acutely than he ever did as Zexion. But his mind was spinning-with disappointment, with the sickness of looking at his old things, with memories that wanted to come, with these heavy feelings.

Perhaps a bath might help? A bath and a trashy novel?

It was still… odd, to see himself in mirrors. Generally he tried to avoid it, but it was not always possible. He shuddered a little as his fingers brushed the scar around his throat. Most unbecoming. Religious application of scar cream didn't improve things, but at least the color was no longer such a vivid violet.

He settled into the warm water. On a physiological level it was soothing, but the second he started to relax the thoughts invaded-wasn't this so self-indulgent? He should be downstairs, right now, analyzing the data they'd gathered from this week of Kairi's sleep. At the very least logging things, drafting a report. Reconnecting with Ansem and the others, to see what they'd found.

His breath, in the tiled space, seemed loud.

Dealing with them should not be difficult. But all he could think when he saw them was they told me you'd gone mad. He grimaced. This wasn't helping. Maybe some chamomile?

(A stiff drink? Or a sedative?)

He bathed, because he was already here. His skin was weirdly raw, oddly sensitive to everything. It had been when he was a child, but he figured he'd have outgrown such issues. It felt like everything was scraping along his nerves. He put on a soft sweater, slacks (his body would not physically allow him to wear denim. It was extremely irritating). Tried to fix his hair, which continued to grow directly into his eyes despite best efforts. He'd considered cutting it, letting it all go, but likely that would be a shock to himself as well.

Would eating help? He was feeling dizzy. Blood sugar, maybe? Hard to tell. Just tell me what you want , he thought, towards his body. Enough of this vague aching.

He heated some soup Aeleus had made, forced it all down. Nope, that didn't help. Was he legitimately ill? He could ask Even, who was indeed a medical doctor as well as a researcher, but frankly he'd rather just deal with it on his own.

"Hello, Ienzo."

He jumped a little, despite himself. "Oh… hello, Master."

"I noticed Kairi was awake."

"...We were rapidly getting nowhere. I figured no reason to keep her asleep if we were getting nothing done. She had expressed interest in doing some visiting. She should. It's summer, and she's sixteen. Might as well enjoy it." He was rambling.

"Why shouldn't you?"

Ienzo scoffed. "More pressing things on my plate than socializing. " He could hardly stand talking to Demyx, much less anyone else.

"These breaks are for us, too."

"...Even said the same thing."

Ienzo did get some pleasure from the spark of anger that entered his eyes at the name. "You should at the very least get some sunlight. When was the last time you left this castle?"

He thought about it. "We did need groceries a few days ago."

"Other than that."

Ienzo was drawing a blank. He bristled a little. "What of you?"

Ansem chuckled. "...Quite. I believe we've all been… engrossed."

"I wish I felt like I were getting somewhere. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes every time she wakes up… is taxing." He shook his head. "I'm trying to help, to be of use, but we…" Ienzo trailed off uselessly.

"Might I sit with you?"

"...If you like."

Ansem joined him at the small oak table. It was still so odd, to talk to him after such a long period of separation. That Ansem forgave him was staggering. "How are you faring?"

"...A loaded question."

He smiled. "I do hope you don't forget you're also a young person."

"Oh, I never was." He shrugged. "Old soul. So I've been told."

"...You deserve to enjoy your life too."

Ienzo snorted.

"Why is it you react this way?"

"After all the suffering I've wrought?" He raised an eyebrow. "The least I can do is try to help Sora, and the committee."

"No need for you to also suffer."

He laughed a little. "I'm not suffering."

Ansem gave him a look that suggested he was full of it. "You struggle, Ienzo. I can just tell."

He pursed his lips. "You needn't concern yourself with me. I'm sure you have other things to worry about."

"I'm not allowed to worry about you?"

"Well you needn't waste your energy."

Ansem blinked. "I'm aware we've… lost time we'll never get back," he said slowly. "But I do wish to repair our relationship, such as it is."

More baffling yet. "Why?"

"Why?" He repeated. "Ienzo, you're my son."

"I was ."

"...A bond that only ended through no machinations of your own." He reached over to take Ienzo's hand; he flinched, the touch unexpected and unanticipated.

"How can you even bear to look at me?"

"You asked for none of this."

Ienzo could feel something rising within him, heat building behind his already aching eyes. He regretted eating; it felt as though it may come up. "Didn't I? I asked to do those experiments-"

"-Because Xehanort manipulated you into thinking it was your idea." Ansem's rust-colored eyes bore into his. "Because you were a child and wanted to please those around you."

"What about everything that happened after?" The blood was hot in his face, the toxic slurry of emotion making him nauseous. "When I was older? When I should have known better?"

"You grew up with no heart. No conscience, no bonds with others. How were you to-"

"My actions killed people." He stood up. "I am no innocent victim, Master. Who do you think was the Organization's tactician?"

Ansem seemed to not know what to say.

"All those puzzles you taught me to love. Do you think I wouldn't use that? People were pieces to me. Pawns. How am I any better than Xehanort?" He took a breath; the air was hot. "I need to take my leave."

"Ienzo-"

He was already moving. He felt it coming at him like a wave, sticky, itchy and impossible to reckon with. Guilt like rivers, like oceans, making his heart race and his palms sweat. He couldn't be of use if he fell apart. He couldn't fall apart. Couldn't. Get it together. He repeated it, almost like a mantra. Get it together.

"...Zo?"

Ienzo almost swore out loud. The last person he wanted to see. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"You look-"

Ienzo narrowed his eyes, daring him to say something.

"...Tired," Demyx settled on.

"Yes, I am very tired," he said. "I should like to get some rest. If it's all the same."

"I mean, sure, but…" He bit his lip. "Is there… anything I can do? For you?"

His eyebrows shot up.

"You just seem kinda overwhelmed and I-"

"Thank you, Demyx, but I do not need your help." He scowled.

"Oh… okay." Demyx bit his lip. "Well… get some sleep." He tried to inject some cheer into his voice, but it fell flat.

"...I shall certainly try." His headache was only worsening. He limped back towards his bedroom and lay down, pulling the covers around himself. He tried to breathe, slowly, evenly, to lower his heart rate. It wasn't quite dark, but he needed to at the very least try to sleep, despite guilt, despite everything.

Ienzo counted his breath. He told himself stories, recalling novels from memory. Finally, finally… he drifted into an uncertain sleep.

There was a reason Ienzo avoided rest.

The memories, even in unconsciousness, constantly invaded. Tonight's choice? His very own death, the sensation of the replica's glove closing around his windpipe, darkness holding Zexion firm, unable to slink away or fight. Sharpness cutting into his throat, feeling draining out of his body-

Ienzo jolted up, breathing hard. The panic was familiar at this point, but no less painful. He tried to push through it, counting all the items in the room, but his hand had snapped up to his scar.

It's no less than what I deserve.

He was feeling nauseous now. He sat up slowly, checked the alarm clock at his bedside-he'd only managed a few hours, but now it was dark out. There was heat in his eyes.

Cry if you must, and get it over with.

Ienzo rocked slowly, in an attempt to self-soothe. He felt the dampness on his face, humiliation breaking over him in a wave. It was like purging; emptying the tears from his body. At least, he tried to think of it that way.

Eyes raw, he lay back down, hoping that was enough, but it wasn't. It was clear he would get no peace tonight. He exhaled heavily, got up, put his lab coat back on, and headed back downstairs.

At least, if it were this late, he wouldn't have to deal with anyone other than himself. He sat in front of that computer screen for a long time, trying to put the pieces together.