18.

Even's never been to a wedding other than his own. Fascinating, the customs people will develop as a way to declare love-or occasionally, to secure power. More rarely, both. Not to mention the way it's all affected by gender, sexuality, power.

All this faffing about to say that Ienzo, in a way his son, has just gotten married.

It was a short, simple ceremony, oddly devoid of a personal touch, in a bright alcove of a library. No decorations, no vows other than the ones determined by the (old? Hard to tell with Radiant Garden in flux) law. He's not surprised that Ienzo is so private about this; he's surprised that Demyx is . Then again, it is never easy to bear one's heart. With a kiss, it's over. They both truly seem so happy, like they're glowing. He hopes for their sake that it works out.

"How did it feel to marry your son?" Even asks.

Ansem rolls his eyes at the lame, and somewhat inappropriate, joke. He merely officiated-who else had the authority here? "I feel in my heart of hearts it's the right thing. I won't soon forget the look on his face. I've never seen him so happy." It's a rainy day, cold and raw. Even glances out the hallway window. "How did it feel, when it happened to you?"

"Well, you know it was a shotgun affair."

"...Quite. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get some pleasure from the fact that the first legal marriage since the Fall is a gay one. Things have changed. There's still so much potential for this city-despite the fact that it's in shambles. Potential for us as well."

Even feels the blood rush to his face. "We're in shambles too," he says softly.

"But we can rebuild," he adds. "Let's join the others. Aeleus made lunch."

They keep their relationship under wraps, as much as they can, anyway. Dilan is less interested in gossip over Even than he was the boys. Thinking of its eventual revelation gives him intense anxiety; it gives him insight into his own outing of Ienzo, which makes him feel guilty, though he had good intentions at the time.

"It's rather incestuous when you think about it," Even mutters. "Demyx and Ienzo, you and I. Next thing we'll hear about is Aeleus and Dilan."

"I highly doubt that." He leans back against the couch, resting an arm around Even's waist. Touch is still overwhelming, but becoming more comfortable. "Nothing incestuous about it-we essentially raised the boy."

"And now here we are," he mutters. Ansem's made them both hot toddies, and he fears he's rather less sober than he would like to be. Letting the world soften a little bit is quite a challenge.

Even isn't sure if it's love. It's something, something he carries with him daily. Not quite lust, either, even when they kiss; they haven't moved very far on that front, either. He's fairly sure the physical side of it would take work to find, and he's not even sure if he needs that. If simple romantic touch unravels him, more… active touch would be completely destructive.

"...Not much progress?" Ansem asks. "With your work?"

"Well, it's a lot of busywork at the moment, getting all this sequencing done. I could so use an assistant. Aeleus steps in now and again, but he also has much to do. Not to mention, both of the individuals who could also be of use are on their honeymoon. Best let them enjoy things while they can." He shakes his head.

"I'm afraid when it comes to genetics I'm rather hopeless," Ansem admits. "I always was."

"It certainly isn't easy for a layman."

"...You're funny."

Even smirks.

"How about I give you some of my work to figure out?" He shakes his head. "I got a draft of a bill on a napkin the other day. I understand there's a reason these people were elected, and they are competent, but… the decorum. I shouldn't have to manually draft things for them."

"You're a civil servant-emphasis on the latter word."

Ansem laughs. "Quite. I have literally asked for this. Fate could have set me up much worse. Heaven knows I deserve it."

A pause. The fire, in the hearth, pops, making Even's heart stutter, not helped by the alcohol. The only reason he's able to be in the same room as one is the warmth; it's necessary here. This still isn't easy. Ansem notices this and gives his hand a squeeze. "I'm alright."

"...Is he still trying to get in touch with you?"

Even bites his lip. "Every week or so he tries to talk to me. I ignore it. I suppose I could simply… block the IP address, and… I just don't. I'm equally sure I can't forgive him. But at the same time…" He swallows, tasting earl grey and rum. "I've been forgiven much, and changed much, who am I to say he hasn't also? Especially under Isa's watchful eye."

"You needn't rush. Confront him when you're ready."

"...Quite. I fear in this life I might never be ready for some things. I haven't… much time."

"Thirty or so years isn't enough time?"

He shrugs. "I'm not so sure. I want to see Ienzo grow up-well, grow older. I need to do good work. I still have so much to do, and I've already wasted so much time faffing about."

"You were psychologically shattered. ...We both were. You had to heal."

"Is this healing?" he asks, more to himself.

"It certainly isn't stagnation. Not anymore."

Even realizes he's leaning against him. It's a warm sort of touch, a comfortable one. While his heart is still beating harder than it should be, he thinks it's no longer from the fire.

Ansem brushes his fingers against Even's cheek. There's a sweet tension in the air, tension he hasn't felt in a long time. And maybe it is the alcohol, but he swears he can feel a sort of desire. It's very nearly alien. He kisses Ansem first this time and feels himself being drawn close. This is such a young sensation, jarring and bizarre. A hand tangles in his hair. They continue like this for an unknowable amount of time, exploring one another. Despite the touch being muffled by clothing, it's still all so much, and this is only intensified when Ansem slides a hand under his shirt. A sudden fear breaks what little pleasure he's found.

"...Even?"

He pulls away and hugs himself tightly. His hands are trembling. Ansem rests a hand on his shoulder. "Don't," Even says hoarsely. Ansem listens, giving him some space.

What a fool. What a naive, stupid- Even pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to get himself back under control. "What is it that upset you?" Ansem asks gently.

How to verbalize something like this? He's gotten used to dealing with these scars. Only now is he fully processing that, should he pursue this relationship, likely with time Ansem would end up seeing them at some point or another. This is all dredging up something sickly and awful.

But he's a smart man. "Is it the scarring?" he suggests.

"It will repulse you," he says, barely aware of the thought before it's being spoken. "You needn't deal with something like that."

"They're a part of your history. A part of you. I highly doubt that would repulse me-not with all we've worked through."

Even keeps his eyes stubbornly on the floor, glad for the curtain of his hair (which, he realizes, is mussed).

"Of course we needn't get into anything which may make you uncomfortable."

He smooths at his hair. A thick anxiety catches in his throat. He isn't used to being embodied, not particularly. There's entirely too much going on at once; the panic, the overstimulation, and yes, arousal. It fills him with a sort of shame. He reaches for the buttons at his throat, his hands shaking so hard he can barely undo them.

"What are you doing?"

"Proving you wrong," he says in a stranger's voice.

"Even-"

"Please."

"You're worrying me."

He's finally able to free the last button. He sheds the garment quickly, like ripping off an adhesive.

For a moment there's just silence. His throat is tight. "I told you," he says, not looking at Ansem. "I'm afraid I-"

He's pulled into a gentle embrace. The tremulous tears in his eyes run over. It's so… odd to have hands on his bare skin, and he's no clue if it's pleasant or not. So instead he just cries. "I could care less what shape your body is in," Ansem says. "This was never about that. But… this shows what you've survived, how you've changed and overcome. Don't be ashamed." He kisses Even's shoulder once, sending a shudder through him that has nothing to do with pain.

After much too long he pulls it together, tugging his shirt back on. This isn't helped at all by the occasional crack and pop of the fire. He's exhausted, anxious.

"...As I said, you needn't push your boundaries," Ansem says softly. "It's taken so long to find one another-what's a little more waiting?"

"It's not for lack of-"

"I know."

"It's just been so-"

"It's alright."

He exhales heavily, tasting the inside of his lungs. "I should… try to…"

When he doesn't finish the sentence, Ansem says, "Stay."

The first time they attempt to go to bed together, it's something of a failure. Then again, "failure" is a bit harsh-in the literal sense it was successful, just extremely brief. Embarrassingly so. Not just for Even, which he finds a surprise; but neither of them have ever prioritized physical intimacy.

For a long while he lays in Ansem's bed after, coming to a cold realization that it's his first orgasm in at least ten years. His body seems unsure of what to do afterwards; his skin is quite raw. He takes a deep breath, watching the ceiling. They don't touch; they both know it would be too much.

"...Are you alright?" Ansem asks.

Finally, he looks over. "I… believe so." He sits up, noticing first how Ansem's eyes roll over the scars on his back, then how he tries not to look. "Yourself?"

"I am no longer… accustomed to such things." He begins redressing. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes." He takes the offered cup when it comes, glad for the warmth. "I… feel so young… yet in a breath so old."

"Me as well. Things no longer… run so hot, as it were."

"Not quite what I was referring to."

"Then what were you?"

"This cursed… tenderheartedness. Makes me feel like a schoolboy. And yet… the years weigh heavily."

"But we're here." He doesn't quite face Even. "How long exactly have we known another, Even?"

"Thirty-some years. Much too long."

He chuckles. "And yet you're willing to stick with me."

"Frankly, no one else could put up with me." He sets the cup down onto its saucer. "So that's that."

"Seems to be, yes."

He settles back against the pillows. "I...am sorry things were so uneventful."

He smiles wryly. "As if anything is uneventful with you."

"...I'll ignore your tone."

He leans over and kisses him once. "Somehow this feels familiar."

"I… agree."

It takes a few tries for them to be comfortable with it, with each other. For it to last longer than a few mere moments. But it gets easier, their bodies becoming accustomed to touch again. It's not the same as when they were younger. These things almost take a certain premeditation. It must be wanted.

And it is.

He's been so passive, in the past; what better way to show love than through an act? It takes yet more time, to graduate from simple touch to something more. Time, patience. Passion is only a quiet passenger at the moment.

But when it does happen, Even notes with a thrill, it's he taking his old master.

And it does feel so familiar, to touch him, to make love to him. So familiar and so right .

"Truthfully," Ansem admits after one of these nights, both of them beyond exhausted, "I believe I may have harbored such feelings for longer than I originally thought."

"Oh?"

"Even, you have such a unique mind, a unique way of seeing things. I've been drawn to it for years-but so like a fool, it took me years to figure out why." He brushes Even's hair behind his ear. "By then… you had already fallen into your whirlwind marriage."

"I do not regret it."

"Nor should you. I suppose… it was simply not our time. We've had to grow, to allow the love into our hearts." He kisses him on the forehead.

"I think you are the only one who I allow to see me," Even admits. "I struggle with vulnerability."

"I know you do. I… do as well." He rests a hand on the small of Even's back. 'We can be so much stronger together."

"I… want nothing more."

Atonement comes in pieces, in waves. Mostly they assist the boys, the committee, when they are not pulled apart by their own projects; providing research and tertiary support. It's humble work, work Even tries to do to the best of his own abilities. This town has a use for the educated, but he no longer seeks credit.

Not long after he and Demyx marry, Ienzo comes to Even. They get coffee. They are very nearly normal.

Happiness suits Ienzo, eases the sharpness in his eyes. Demyx seems to stabilize him, allowing him to feel young. He smiles easily, chats. There's a warmth there wasn't before. Wholeness. Even realizes he's never quite seen it in the boy, and has to swallow the sadness.

It's odd to find himself on the other side. After a considerable pause that Ienzo asks, "Even, are… never mind."

"Boy, what's on your mind?"

"...I'm nearly twenty-two, will you ever stop calling me that?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Forgive me if this is… overstepping." He bites his lip. "Have you and Ansem…"

He feels his heart catch, a bizarrely young feeling. "What?"

"Do you have feelings for one another?" He raises an eyebrow.

"...Like?"

"Even, I know you know what I mean." His expression is so droll, funnily serious. "It's… okay if you do."

Even sighs. "We've been… grappling," he admits. "Though you must tell no one-especially that husband of yours."

"Who do you think gave me the idea?"

Even feels his face warming. "Does everyone know?"

Ienzo smiles wryly. "Why do you feel the need to keep it a secret?"

"Because it's a personal matter, not a public one."

Ienzo rolls his eyes, perhaps at the hypocrisy. "Are you scared of what they might think?"

"What, Aeleus, Dilan? Unless all your gossiping already got to them?" He shakes his head. "I'm… unsure. I feel as though-"

"You don't deserve to be happy?" He clucks his tongue. "To be colloquial-been there, done that." He looks down into his coffee cup. "It takes… work, to be vulnerable. But it's necessary work. If you have someone , regardless of romance, then all the better." He chuckles a little. "Though I'd be lying if I said it doesn't amuse me."

"Boy-"

"You both raised me. Willingly or not. Now you're together?" He points at Even. "You gave me hell for getting with Demyx. Now-"

"I know, I know, I'm a hypocrite. What else is new?"

Another laugh. "I do believe this is the first time I've seen you so embarrassed." Then, "I hope you can find peace, Even. I really do. It took you so long to recover… and then Ansem… I worried-"

"You may be orphaned again?" he asks dryly. "I'm afraid you must deal with our neuroses for some years yet." He squeezes the boy's hand, feeling the wedding band against his palm. "Have things changed?"

"Yes and no," Ienzo admits. "He introduces me to as many people as he can… just to say the word. It's made him so happy. Why wait on such happiness? I do not think my feelings will change. They've only… gotten stronger."

This is a feeling Even can relate to. He came across these emotions slowly… and now he seems tangled in them. "...Quite." There's nothing left of the espresso he's ordered; he looks down into the smear of brown as though he might divine something. "Ienzo, are you fulfilled?"

He considers this, canting his head slightly. "I like to believe so," he admits. "I have my husband, my family, satisfying work. True, life is much… smaller than it used to be, but is that a bad thing?" He drums his fingers on the table. "The council has reached out to me after reading my manuscript. They've… offered me something of a job."

Even feels his eyebrows shoot up. "Ienzo, that's-"

"I'd be helping them create a mental health program. From scratch. I feel… honored to be chosen." His face is pink. "Worried that I'm not qualified-after all this time, technically I have no degree."

"What, that piece of paper?" The boy's studied for years. Doubtless he has the equivalent of several degrees of reading.

He makes a face. "You continually dangle yours over Demyx."

"...Because his reactions are rather amusing." He chuckles a little. "Boy, if they chose you, they feel you're capable. And you are. All these years I wanted nothing more than for you to get help-if you can give others that, all the better. But it shan't be easy."

"It's a… challenge." He smiles a little. "You know I love puzzles."

The study continues. It changes, grows. He finds himself working closely with almost all of them in some capacity, but it's Dilan who does most of the admin work, with everyone else pulled elsewhere. While at first their talk is all scientific, something like a friendship redevelops.

"More information from the rumor mill," Dilan says, folding up the accordion of his own epigenome.

Even feels something of a punch; caught. "You and your gossip. The lot of you."

"Not so much a rumor as something told to me. And the informant was very adamant you know it's he."

"...You never did speak concisely."

"I do believe Ienzo is seeking something like revenge for when you outed him."

"As if the boy would ever be straight?"

Dilan smirks. "I admit I'm not surprised. Not at all."

He almost drops the tablet he's holding. "No?"

"Ansem's loved you for years. It's about time you came around." A laugh. "It's true. Why do you think he was so angry, so hurt at you ? In his eyes you could do no wrong-until you did." He shrugs. "Neither of you are very good at feelings."

"Don't I know it." Still, he's rather shaken. "Bastard could've said something sooner. Would've saved me a lot of trouble."

Dilan chuckles. "We all could've saved ourselves a lot of trouble. Yet here we are. I could never have guessed the path we'd end up on, not if my life depended on it."

"...Are you satisfied with the way things are?"

He touches his breastbone. "There will always be-pain. Yet, I feel now more than ever that we can be... On the other side of history. Hence why this work is so important."

There's a knock at the door. Aeleus comes in, his overalls spattered with paint. "How goes it?"

"We certainly are making a lot of paper," Dilan says. "One can't rush perfection."

He rolls his eyes. "It's a lovely day outside. I was hoping you two would get some lunch with me."

"But we're in the middle of-" He sees the look in Aeleus's eye. "Sure. Why not."

It's spring now, the flowers in bloom again. They're wilder than they used to be, not as tended to, but still beautiful. They end up in a courtyard, where they see Demyx and Ienzo seated on a blanket, a picnic basket between them. "Hey, you made it!" Demyx says.

"I had my doubts," Ienzo admits.

"...Rather juvenile, isn't it?" Dilan says.

"Oh, hush. I made ceviche. Come sit and eat it."

Dilan takes the proffered container with a scowl.

"...A gathering?" Even hears. He turns and sees Ansem. "Not exactly the emergency I was told it is."

"You wouldn't have left otherwise," Ienzo points out.

"We wanted to hang out. Sue us."

They settle on the blanket. The sunlight feels good on his skin, which is still tender from all his time indoors. It's odd, to be gathered here so; but yet this is perhaps one of the most normal things they've all done. When was the last time anyone spent time enjoying anything?

"Oh, one more thing," Ienzo says. "We are absolutely not allowed to talk about work for the next half hour."

"I'm keeping a timer," Demyx adds, holding up his phone.

"Since when are you allowed to make rules?" Dilan asks.

"Since I apparently became the expert on mental health." He rolls his eyes. "Besides. We're all… much too burned out. If we're to live as long as possible… we must let down our hair now and again. So to speak."

"This is your doing, I'm sure," Even says to Demyx. "I'll not have you chipping at his work ethic."

Demyx sticks out his tongue. "Hey. I also pull like fifty hour weeks, so I'm not the lazy asshat I used to be. Pass me the pasta salad."

They all eat in silence for a few minutes. Then, Dilan asks Demyx, "Do you ever miss home?"

His chopsticks slip in his hand. "Hate to break it to you, but that place was never home."

"Home is here?" Ienzo asks dryly.

"Well, isn't it?" He wraps an arm around Ienzo's waist. A comfortable, familiar gesture. "Where the heart is, and all that crap?"

"It was always about the bonds," Ansem adds gently. "It took much too long to realize."

"Besides. I figures there are much worse places-and much worse people-to end up with."

"I'll drink to that," Dilan says.

Ienzo digs in the picnic basket. "I'm afraid the strongest thing I have is iced tea."

"You shouldn't be drinking anyway," Aeleus pointed out.

He blushes. "I'm twenty-two. Might I remind you that the legal age is eighteen-"

"So defensive, so fast, Ienzo," Dilan says.

"Well when I'm getting it from four sides, I must be." He pauses, blinks, then laughs a little.

"What's so amusing?" Even asks.

"I'm afraid it's nothing of momentous insight," he says, shaking his head. "This ragged parenting… is so like the old days."

"You're right," Aeleus says.

His expression darkens a little. Demyx squeezes his hand. "Not quite."

"It can be better," Even says gently.

He nods once. "It already is."

"...Blast." His fingers tangle in the fabric at his throat.

Ansem barely looks up from the book he's reading. "What ails you now?" he asks.

"Two PhDs and a medical degree, and I can't remember how to tie a stupid Windsor knot."

Ansem approaches him and takes the knotted fabric. Quite quickly, he fixes it. "Years and years of silly galas and dinners. I can-and have-done this in my sleep. There." He tightens the knot at Even's throat. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"Something like this must be done on one's own, I think." He turns back to the mirror. The suit is simple, and not quite tailored, but he still feels overdressed. "Besides, I don't want them to think it's some quid pro quo arrangement."

Ansem rolls his eyes. Then, a bit more slyly, "You do look quite nice."

He blushes. He so despises that Ansem can get this sort of reaction out of him. "I'm only feral most of the time, not all of it." He picks up the portfolio of papers. "Feels I'm defending my theses all over again."

"Luckily you needn't be quite so formal. Not like the old days. I'm betting at least one of them will be wearing sneakers." He brushes microscopic dust off of Even's shoulder. "A good first impression doesn't hurt." Ansem chucks him lightly under the chin. "I'm so proud of you."

"Don't you start-"

"Truly." He squeezes Even's free hand. "You've worked so hard to get to this moment. This work will help them shape the town's future. A hope, a catharsis, a proper way to treat the afflicted." He kisses him once. "Now go, so you can come celebrate. I fear I may have made you late-not that their timekeeping is pristine."

"I'll not have you spoil me-"

"Go."

"Yes… well…" He bobs his head once. He can feel the anxiety fluttering within. While these papers are only a concise summary of the project, it still feels so heavy. He hopes it will be good enough, sound enough. It's been years. Now to let it go-what will become of him?

"...There you are." Ienzo's waiting by the stairs. "Even-we simply must work on your punctuality."

"Blame your father wittering over me." He looks him over, sees his white coat, unbuttoned, the black turtleneck beneath it. "You're going like that?"

He shrugs. "This is my professional uniform. This is a professional appointment."

"At least pull back your hair-"

"I absolutely will not." He smiles. "Even. Relax. It's going to be fine."

They set off towards the new city hall. It could've easily been established in the castle, but Even can't blame the decision-it's a good one, in his opinion. Helps make the townspeople trust the fledgling government. "Your husband couldn't come?"

"He was quite literally getting ready when he was called away. Another birth."

"That's too bad. It's because of him this is done." He watches Ienzo's expression closely and then adds, "An awful lot of them these days, no?"

"People are becoming comfortable starting families."

It's a perfect sunny day. Even wonders. "...I don't suppose-"

Ienzo picks up on the subtext straightaway. "It's in the cards for me?" he asks. "Feeling rather tender in your old age? Craving grandchildren?"

"Boy, there's no need to be nasty."

Ienzo laughs. "You're too funny." Then, after long enough that Even already decided to drop the subject, "We haven't revisited the matter in a while. I'm not sure the time is right. What happened to me being much too young?"

"I don't care either way-so long as you are happy."

He nods once. "It is… strange. I thought this peace I felt internally would be… temporary."

"It means you're on the right path."

"I surely hope so."

"You're doing great things. Saving lives."

He shrugs. "It's the least I can do."

The receptionist in the city hall waves them in boredly. The council chamber is still haphazard-two folding tables and a bunch of folding chairs. "There you are," one of them says. Even looks down, and sure enough-sneakers. "Great. Let's get started."

He's practiced this speech many times, the way he must simplify the hard science of it (Demyx was a good test for this), the display of the hard data. Ienzo chimes in occasionally with the more psychological aspects, the way it affects emotions, hearts.

The impossible cause and effect of darkness.

Despite these years of research, he still feels like he only has a beginner's grasp, even as he proposes treatment options. He hands out copies of the journal-a scant forty pages spanning more or less his entire career.

"Thank you for this insight," another one says. "We want to help people however we can… but most of us are tradespeople. We can't study it the same way. This will be taken into account when it comes to the creation of new services."

"It is my duty," Even says.

"We need educated people again," a third adds. "Everyone… is going to need a hell of a lot more help."

"Perhaps I can be of use." He's barely conscious of the words. "I taught in my day-I'd be more than willing to assist in the drafting of a curriculum."

The council member smiles. "Oh, but it goes deeper than that."

"...And you musn't say anything."

Ienzo is practically vibrating with excitement. "Even, this is a big deal."

"No use counting our chickens."

"A university ?"

"No funding. Limited resources. Likely five or six pupils and one or two courses. More like a one-room schoolhouse."

"But it could be-"

"Boy, I'm old. Likely I'll be long gone before any of this truly is established."

This sobers him, as Even hoped it would. "You're only nearing sixty."

"And considering all I've gone through, it's lucky I've lived this long." He offers a smile. "Now how I imagined the day would go, but very well. Work to be done. This is no reward; if anything, this is a punishment."

"But how do you feel?"

He considers it. "...Overwhelmed," he admits. "But this is a way I can help. I just hope I've developed some patience over the years. Goodness knows I'll need it."

Ienzo takes both his hands and squeezes them. "I'm so proud of you."

"Yes, yes, all this patting of my ego."

"Truly." His gaze becomes sharper, more earnest. "Once upon a time you were… locking everyone and everything away, and suffering. A selfish, devious researcher. Now here you are… so kind. Careful."

"Atonement requires humility," he says gently. "Otherwise, what is meaningful change?"

Ienzo nods once. "I look forward to pursuing this with you," he says. "I do hope you'll let me be a part of this."

Even squeezes his shoulder. "I'm afraid we've just begun, little one."

Beginnings.

Things are not quite so easy now. He can feel he's getting older, from the gray streaked in his hair to the arthritis slowly taking his joints. How strange, to begin again at this age. He finds a sort of pleasure in his work, in the too-young inquisitiveness of his students. He gives them what tools he can and hopes they can do better. He knows that eventually they'll find out about his past and have questions. He knows, and is prepared.

There are so many other beginnings.

After years of consideration, he agrees to marry Ansem. They do so quietly, without fuss, only to be faced with an enraged Ienzo and Demyx, who apparently wanted nothing more than to be there. Even doesn't know why; it's merely a formality at this point. Yet to go through with it is something of a relief.

When he can, he still visits his first spouse and son, where they rest, quietly. There will always be an ache, he thinks, but Even's life is full again.

He helps Ienzo, his very much living son (it was always so, but the marriage simply made it official), and his husband conceive a child, with the young woman who is their surrogate. It's odd to revisit such work related to the replicas, after all this time. Odd and slightly uncomfortable. But their happiness makes it worth it, and it does brighten his days when he can care for the child.

Xion, Roxas, and Naminé live full lives, ordinary lives. He hears of their careers, their marriages, when they visit. They age. They've gotten to grow.

He sets aside his research of that time. He's left instructions for its decryption in the event of his death, but otherwise, he has no desire to share it. There's no real need; no life needs to be created.

"A sensible choice," Ansem says. It's a lovely summer night; they stand on the balcony of their bedroom, just breathing the clean air.

"I would hope I've gained a whit of it."

"A whit, and more."

He chuckles a little. "Here's a funny thought."

"...What?"

"The boys-hardly boys anymore-are the same age I was when I came back; their daughter, Ienzo's."

He blinks. "I suppose that's right."

"If you could change things, would you?"

"...An unnecessary thought experiment."

Even rests his arm around him more comfortably. "Humor me, then."

Ansem sighs. "If you look at it from a purely moral standpoint-I would," he admits. "If I could stop the suffering, the loss of life that has been incurred. Absolutely. But personally… that would mean I'd likely have never found you, would never have gotten to know Ienzo, or his wayward husband. And the loss of that… is painful."

"I suppose that is well reasoned. And I myself don't have an answer to that question."

Ansem kisses him once. "There's no point dwelling on what could have been. Aren't you satisfied with what you have now?"

"Perhaps it is silly-but yes, absolutely I am."

"I think we've earned a bit of peace." He embraces him, resting his head on Even's shoulder. "Now it's your turn to humor an old man."

"Right. Very well."

He takes his hand and leads him inside, to the rest of their lives.