The clock stood frozen at 8:43 in the evening, tormenting him with the illusion of passing time. A brand new mirror hung on the wall by the closet, innocently shimmering in the fluorescents overhead. An untouched bowl of soup sat on his desk, growing colder by the second. His hand, heavily bandaged and still a bit sore, hung lazily off the edge of the bed. At times, it seemed as though Roxas lived in perpetual stillness, with the only motion being the slow rise and fall of his chest with every breath, and the occasional flutter of his eyelids. If he listened closely enough, he could hear a soft thumping in his chest, dampening the silence with its mesmerizing rhythm. With nothing else to do, he would often count the beats and measure the spaces between, if only to stave off the boredom.

What little activity he could experience was the almost constant movement inside his belly as the restless entity tossed and turned with a maddening frequency, often depriving him of appetite, sleep, and sanity. At random intervals, the pains cut into him sharply like razor blades, frightening him with their intensity. Roxas would grit his teeth and plead with the thing to tell him why it was hurting him, receiving only more silence in response. And yet, after so many months, he couldn't bring himself to resent the creature for its nuisance, as it was often the only company he had, the only sign of life among the stillness. Despite the burden it was to carry, as time went on, it became more and more difficult for Roxas to hate it.

Desperate for something to occupy his mind, Roxas picked up his journal, intending to write an entry. Since the incident with the mirror, it was still a challenge to hold a pencil with the hand that he'd mutilated, but Zexion — between instances of scolding him for injuring himself — would insist that he document everything he could. But, when he flipped to the first empty page, Roxas really had nothing to say. If anything, he'd have rather talked to Axel. He hadn't seen the man in days. Not since the Agrabah mission, after Roxas had lost his temper and blown up at everyone. Guilt tugged at him as he remembered the defeated expression on Axel's face, knowing that the last thing he said to his friend was something so biting and laced with such contempt. He'd have taken it back in a heartbeat if he could. When he heard that Axel would be joining the search for Vexen the next morning, Roxas couldn't help but feel worried for him. If nothing else, it would have been nice to wish him luck.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock. Before he could answer it, the door opened and Xemnas was there, standing ominously on the other side of the threshold. Roxas' jaw dropped, unsure of how to greet his Superior on his rare and unexpected visit. Xemnas stepped through the doorway in silence with his hands clasped behind him, looking somewhat uncomfortable to be in the room once he was inside. His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings without comment or notable expression. But, despite his apparent uneasiness, he was still quite intimidating in almost every way. Seeing him so close, it was easy to forget what a large man he was.

"Am I intruding?"

Roxas gulped. "Uh… N-No, sir… I was just writing in my journal," he glanced down at the blank page in front of him, flexing his stiff hand. "Well… at least, I was trying to."

Xemnas raised an eyebrow. "I see."

Roxas studied the man just as much as he studied Roxas, both just staring at each other with no regard for social awkwardness. Xemnas was always mysterious, his thoughts expertly shrouded inside his impenetrable mind. But now, there was something different about the way he was looking at Roxas. There was some sort of crack in the facade, just wide enough to permit Roxas a peek inside. It was the first time he had ever seen the man appear to be uncertain of anything, the first time he'd displayed even a glimmer of confusion. For a moment, it seemed that Xemnas had as many questions as Roxas did.

"Have they found Vexen?"

Xemnas shook his head slowly. "Unfortunately, they have not."

Roxas was not surprised by the news, but shuddered nonetheless. "What happens if…?"

"You needn't concern yourself with that," Xemnas spoke up when his words trailed off. "We wouldn't want to cause any undue stress in your condition."

Sigh. "Right."

Roxas crossed his arms, falling back into his pillow in a huff. As aggravating as it was, he supposed there would be no end to the coddling. His conversation with Saïx — at least, the parts he remembered — had opened his eyes. For the first time, he entertained the notion that perhaps his comrades were genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. Maybe, like the brothers he thought them to be, they cared about him. But, Roxas could not suspend his disbelief far enough to include Xemnas in that hypothesis.

"So… Why are you here?"

Xemnas answered rather flatly. "Curiosity."

"Huh?"

It was then that the man began to move, taking slow steps around the room and quietly observing the pristine environment in which Roxas lived. "For ten years we have lived without hearts, blissfully free of the burden of human emotions. But I have watched those emotions begin to creep back into even my most hardened agents. Relationships have formed and dissipated. Love has blossomed and wilted. Compassion and empathy have awakened and been tested. And it all began with you."

Roxas' breath hitched as he listened to Xemnas' eerie monologue. "Me? What do you mean?"

"This is why you are unique, Roxas. There is no question that you are able to feel the entire spectrum of human emotions. For a Nobody, it is unheard of. It should be impossible. Yet, it is the undeniable truth. Moreover, it would appear that you are able to influence your comrades and reactivate their dormant emotions as well. Even I have not been spared…"

Xemnas paused, laying a hand over his chest. He appeared to be deep in thought, looking almost troubled for a moment. "It is entirely possible that the entity which lives inside of you is responsible for this phenomenon. The heart that we had hoped it would absorb is one of great power. It is reasonable to conclude that its proximity would have an effect on those who do not have hearts of their own, acting almost… as a surrogate."

Roxas was floored by the man's words. Even he had not been spared? Xemnas, the Superior of the In-Between, a man with such disdain for humanity, was openly admitting to having felt what he believed were true, human emotions? "What are you feeling, Lord Xemnas?"

His question was met with a very long and heavy pause. "Nothing."

A sudden thrash in Roxas' abdomen punctuated the response. It was not one of the clenching pains he'd been having, but a writhing spell of movement, as if the entity inside him had decided to perform a backflip. Roxas gasped, clutching his belly as the wind was knocked out of him.

Xemnas' eyes widened slightly. "What is it?"

It took a few seconds for Roxas to catch his breath. "S-Sorry, sir… it just jumped."

Another drawn-out silence followed while Xemnas stared at him with a peculiar look on his face.

"Roxas… May I?"

Roxas wasn't sure what he meant at first, but it quickly dawned on him that the Superior wanted to touch him, to feel the creature wriggling inside him. Anyone else and Roxas would have refused outright, and it was quite a shock that Xemnas was even asking his permission. But, Roxas wondered to himself, what was Xemnas searching for? Although he was certain that it must be more than simply wanting to feel the thing move, Roxas could sense no malice in the man's intentions — just the same curiosity that he readily confessed only moments ago. Perhaps it was that curiosity which he sought to satisfy now — the desire to understand this creature that dwelled inside Roxas' body for so many months. The idea was admittedly unsettling, but Roxas could allow the invasion just this once.

"Y-yeah… okay…"

He leaned back onto his pillow, at first just staring at the wall as he waited for the Superior to get it over with. He felt the shifting in weight as Xemnas lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress. Several seconds of silence passed. Puzzled about the delay, he stole a glance to find the man looking stiff and hesitant as he tugged off his gloves. He didn't look at Roxas, even avoiding eye contact as he finally reached forward to touch him. His approach was quite slow, and he seemed to pause several times along the way, but after a few tense moments, he gingerly laid his hands over Roxas' abdomen.

The very moment Xemnas' fingers grazed his belly, a sudden cascade of images flooded into Roxas' head. Memories, he presumed, and although he didn't recognize any of the people he saw, there was a certain familiarity to them, as if he'd known them in a past life. He examined them from a distance, squinting as their blurry forms came into focus. Roxas could make out a taller man with a muscular build, a woman with gentle eyes, and a boy with a face that matched his own. They were lounging on a grassy hill, gazing up at the night sky with smiles on their faces. This was a world to which Roxas had never been, but it was a beautiful landscape, unlike any he'd seen before. The veil of blackness overhead, studded by gleaming stars, was a breathtaking sight.

The memories played like films for him, and Roxas stood in every scene as a quiet observer, like walking inside someone else's dream. The trio shared deep and meaningful conversations which Roxas could not hear, but the sound of laughter in their voices was warm and brimming with affection. He could sense the bond between them, a closeness the likes of which he'd never known, something much stronger than friendship. Each of them possessed a fierce protectiveness for the other two, such that Roxas knew any one of them would fight, kill, and even die for their companions.

The scene changed. The trio were now in the middle of a large plaza in a town Roxas didn't recognize. The midday sun beat down on their backs in the heat of battle against what looked like a giant Heartless. To Roxas' surprise, they were fighting with keyblades. The weapons were different from his own, but seemed to work the same way, and he could tell that these people were more than capable wielders. Together, they vanquished the enemy, and their faces beamed with victory. But as Roxas looked on, the mood began to shift. Their once-hopeful conversations grew heavy, transforming into a heated argument. With sullen faces, Roxas watched them separate and go their own ways, leaving only an air of sadness and heartbreak behind.

"This… is remarkable…" he heard Xemnas whisper from what sounded like a fair distance, though he hadn't left his place on the bed.

Roxas tilted his head. "Sir…?"

The Superior was deeply concentrating with his eyes tightly closed. Roxas wondered if the two of them were watching the same memories. The next scene was even more solemn than the last. His identical counterpart was kneeling on the ground before a regal-looking man in flowing robes. The man's expression was piteous and forlorn as he held a keyblade high over his head, clearly intending to strike the boy down like an executioner. Just as he was swinging his weapon to finish off the condemned, a voice halted him. It was the boy's friend — the man from the trio had come to rescue his companion. After tossing the boy through a dark corridor, he went into a blind rage, engaging the older man in a suspenseful battle and annihilating him in retaliation. With his opponent dead, Roxas could feel the sting in the man's heart as he sank to his knees in grief, and a heavy darkness began to consume the world around him.

The images faded to black with the sound of a soft gasp. Xemnas had lifted his hands and opened his eyes, apparently shocked by something. Wearing a face that seemed not to belong to him, emitting emotions that couldn't possibly have been his own, the Superior focused his gaze directly on Roxas' eyes and spoke in the soft voice of a perfect stranger.

"V-Ven?"

Unsettled by the sudden transformation, and unsure if he'd heard the man correctly, Roxas recoiled slightly. "Huh?"

Without another word, the Superior returned his hands to Roxas' abdomen and the memories continued. The last set of images were much less clear than the ones preceding them. The first thing Roxas noticed was the new setting — a barren wasteland with a sun that burned as hot as that of Agrabah. As far and wide as he could see was nothing but dirt and rock, but what truly staggered him to his core was the sight of metal glinting in the daylight — the rusted hilts of keyblades stuck into the sand. There were more than he could ever count. For the moment, Roxas just stared at them in complete shock, never having dreamed that such a weapon could have had so many wielders once upon a time. Now, he could only wonder, with deep foreboding, what had happened to them all.

Roxas jumped from character to character, catching glimpses of each member in the trio struggling through their own losing battles. The woman fought a man with a partially obscured face — familiar, but too blurry to identify. Elsewhere, the muscular man was up against an elderly gentleman with a sinister glare in his eyes. There was a thick and palpable sense of despair saturating the atmosphere, putting considerable strain on the bonds between the three friends' hearts. But, though he tried to bring the scene into focus, Roxas couldn't make out the finer details of what was happening. All he could see was a blur of weapons clashing and bodies flying in all directions — a showdown between powerful forces on each side.

Hopelessness weighed heavily on the trio the longer each battle dragged on. When the scene shifted again, Roxas was placed beside the boy who looked like him. Up close, he could finally see that the two really were identical, right down to every last feature. But Roxas knew in his gut that this boy was not him, no matter how similar his appearance. His battle was with another young boy, roughly the same size, wearing a dark helmet, and also using a uniquely-designed keyblade. It was an even match, and Roxas could feel the tension from both fighters, as if they were fighting for their very existence. It was that motivation which set them apart from the others, the desperation to survive. But at the same time, Roxas could sense a futility to this particular battle, and therein was the source of the hopelessness — the cruel reality that neither of these boys were meant to win. That even if one defeated the other, nobody would be walking away as the victor.

The boy with the helmet was floating in the center of the ring, laughing maniacally as he removed his mask. As expected, his face was unfamiliar. He had glowing yellow eyes and a menacing grin, framed by spiky, jet-black hair. He readied his keyblade, preparing to strike, but when Roxas turned to see what his counterpart would do, the boy was gone. He scanned the arena in search of him, but there was no sign of him anywhere. The now-unmasked foe had come closer, his weapon brandished for an attack. It dawned on Roxas then that the boy was looking right at him, and he understood that he was now standing in the position of his counterpart. He'd taken his place, was holding his keyblade and seeing everything through his eyes. His opponent, none the wiser, was now advancing at top speed. Just as he arrived to lay down a devastating blow, everything blinked into darkness again.

Roxas opened his eyes and was back in his bed, breathless and with a rapid pounding in his chest. It was as if he'd awakened from a nightmare, complete with the convincing illusion of real danger. But unlike any dream, he could remember every moment of his time spent in those memories. Roxas sat up in bed to find that Xemnas was still there, hands folded in his lap and staring contemplatively at the floor.

Roxas had seen all of those people before. Perhaps he hadn't met them, but he knew their faces. They were the people from the mirror. The strangers who stood beside his reflection when he least expected them to appear. And now, however it had come to pass, Roxas realized that those people — the protective man carrying the heaviest of burdens, the insecure woman forced to grow up too fast, and the young boy who fought his own destiny and lost — were from Xemnas' memories. Those strangers who seemed to follow Roxas whenever he was alone had some connection to the Superior's Somebody.

"Xemnas," Roxas asked quietly. "Who was Ventus?"

Xemnas did not answer, instead appearing to wince and turn away.

"Please, tell me!"

The pain struck very suddenly, low in Roxas' abdomen. It was far more intense than any of the previous spasms he'd experienced, like that of a fist closing tightly around his guts. All the breath was squeezed out of him with one raspy cry, and he struggled for several moments to regain it as the wrenching pressure pulsed inside his belly. All the while, Xemnas just stood there, watching. Roxas' wide, terrified eyes pleaded with him for help, but the man spoke not a word, just looking on in horror as the subject of his cruel experiment writhed in pain before him.

There was no longer any comfort in imagining the Clock Tower. No matter how hard he concentrated, Roxas could not feel the warmth of the sunset or taste the refreshing ice cream. He couldn't see Axel's smile or hear his voice. All around him was thick, unyielding darkness. He was completely paralyzed, as if frozen in a block of ice. Above him was the face of a woman with tears in her eyes — the same woman from the barrage of memories. Haunting laughter could be heard in the background. The boy who'd worn the helmet was floating some distance away, calling out a name he couldn't hear. He reached for Roxas in desperation as he helplessly sank into the void, wearing not a menacing grin, but a chilling expression of fear on his face. For the first time, Roxas pitied him, but by the time he had the clarity of thought to extend his hand and pull the boy to safety, he was gone.

It took almost a full minute for the pain to dissipate, and Roxas was left sweating and panting heavily when it was over. His vision returned slowly, the bright lights and bare walls creeping in little by little. Xemnas was nowhere to be found. He was alone yet again, and part of him couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't dreamt the whole thing up. He checked the clock, finding that it was just past nine in the evening. The now-cold bowl of soup still sat on his desk. His journal lay open to the same empty page. Roxas was content to live with the mystery, and was about to close the notebook and put it away when something caught his eye. The page that was previously blank now had a small drawing on it. A symbol that looked like some sort of flower, etched lightly in pencil in the bottom-right corner of the page. Roxas had never seen it before, and couldn't possibly have drawn it himself. Who else could have put it there? Was it Zexion? Axel? Xemnas?

Roxas' skin began to crawl the longer he looked at the picture. Feeling a little unsettled, he decided to take a walk to clear his head and ease his nerves. The castle was largely empty, leading him to believe that everyone had gone to bed early. Although the quiet should have been peaceful, for Roxas it was disheartening to find the rest of the place just as lonely as his own bedroom. Briefly, he thought of seeking out Axel and patching things up. He was even half tempted to ask Saïx for more of that soothing tea. Ultimately, he ended up just roaming the halls until he eventually made it to the Grey Area. He'd expected to find it just as deserted as the rest of the castle, but was almost pleasantly surprised to see a few of his comrades there. Xigbar, Luxord, and Demyx were huddled around the coffee table, playing cards. When they caught sight of him approaching, they did not recoil at his presence. Instead, their faces lit up with warm, sincere smiles.

"Roxas!" Demyx greeted cheerfully. "What's up, man? It's good to see you up and about!"

Roxas was caught off-guard by their welcoming sentiments, and at first stammered a bit with his reply. "U-Um… Hi, guys… I was looking for Axel. Have any of you seen him?"

The men shared a look, their faces falling slightly. "Sorry, man," Demyx answered sadly. "Haven't seen him all day."

"He does have the early shift in the morning," Luxord said, leaning heavily toward Xigbar. "Perhaps he's already turned in for the night."

Xigbar whipped around and glared at him. "You got something to say, buddy?"

Luxord grinned slyly. "Nothing at all, dear."

Demyx patted the empty space on the sofa beside him, waving Roxas over. "Roxas, you want to play?"

"Uh… What are you playing?"

"Texas Hold'em," Xigbar announced proudly. "The only poker game worth remembering."

Luxord rolled his eyes as he shuffled the cards, barely biting back a retort to Xigbar's comment. Roxas was stuck in place for a moment, feeling unusually wary of taking them up on their offer. He'd never played cards before, and hadn't really spent much time with these guys at all. The only thing he really knew about the concept of leisure was having ice cream on the clock tower, and he began to wonder if this particular game was the equivalent activity for these three. Maybe this was their icing on the cake. Roxas took a deep breath and headed over to the spot Demyx indicated and sank into the cushion, eliciting friendly smiles from all of them.

"I'll help you out, Roxas," Demyx offered, sliding a stack of chips toward him before turning to Luxord. "Deal him in."

Not realizing he'd be thrown right in, Roxas tried to protest. "Wait, I don't—"

"Come on, it's fun!"

Luxord dealt him a hand to match the others, two cards that he wasn't meant to show any of the rest. The three gave him a quick run-down of the numbers and symbols and their values, skimming through the rules of the game so quickly that Roxas was more lost than when he'd first sat down.

"Place your bets, gentlemen."

Demyx tilted his head in Roxas' direction. "Okay, bud, you in or out?"

Roxas stared at the cards in his hand, trying to remember the rules. Mimicking the others, he tossed a chip in the center pile, hoping for the best. "Uh… I'll… stay in?"

Luxord set aside one overturned card and laid out three cards facing up, which Roxas now had to take under consideration when deciding whether to continue playing or quit. It was a challenge to keep track of not only the values, but the categories to which the cards belonged, and Roxas hadn't the slightest clue what he was doing, but he had to admit that it was thrilling to anticipate those moments where Luxord would lay another card on the table.

A few rounds in, Roxas was beginning to get the hang of it. He hadn't won at all, but he hadn't lost all of his chips yet, and that was enough of an accomplishment for his standards. One particular hand, everyone had folded but Demyx and Luxord. Fifty chips were on the line, and Demyx was staring daggers into Luxord's eyes, willing that he could see into his mind. Luxord casually stared back, unblinking and expressionless, waiting patiently for his opponent to make a mistake. His piercing gaze was intimidating, having thrown the musician off his game several times already. Roxas and Xigbar watched their silent duel with fascination, eager to see which of the two would bend. Ever the lousy competitor, Demyx forfeit the standoff and turned over his cards yet again.

"Fold."

Luxord gleefully swept pot toward himself, adding to his already towering pile of chips. As he shuffled the deck and prepared to deal another hand, Xigbar lit up a cigarette and leaned in toward Roxas. "He's got a poker face of steel, but watch his eyebrows, there's this thing they do—"

Luxord threw a handful of chips at the man who laughed heartily in response. "Easy! I'm just messing with ya. If I knew your tells, my pile of chips would look a lot more like yours!"

"I don't believe that's the only reason you're losing."

"Hey now, I've beat you plenty of times," he took a drag from his cigarette as he picked up his next set of cards. "I'm just having a run of bad luck this evening."

Luxord chuckled as he began the first round of bets. When it came around to Roxas' turn, he hesitated as he peered at his cards. He'd been given an eight of clubs and a king of hearts. Torn by the dilemma of having one good card and one average one, he wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. Several seconds of silence passed before Xigbar grew impatient, but Luxord raised a hand to silence his partner.

"Roxas, poker is a game of skill, chance, and personality. But it's also a game of confidence — of risk," the man advised. "Those who take no risks are seldom victorious."

"Besides, man, it's only chips! It's not like you're really risking anything but your pride."

Luxord narrowed his eyes at Xigbar. "Much to my chagrin. It's an insult for a man of my stature to be playing with worthless chips."

"Okay, I'm in," Roxas dropped a couple of chips in the pot. "I call."

"That's more like it," Luxord beamed. "Xigbar, will you be raising the stakes?"

"The way my evening's going? As if."

Luxord dealt the flop, opening the conversation to idle gossip as the wagers resumed. "So, it seems our situation has graduated from 'urgent' to 'desperate.' Double shifts for us all until Vexen is found."

"I heard even Saïx and Zexion might join if we get really screwed."

"What?" Demyx gulped audibly. "Even Zexion?"

"Might leave Roxas here all alone with the big boss," Xigbar chuckled lightly as he plunked a chip into the pile, raising an eyebrow at Roxas. "But don't worry, kiddo, he's not as scary as he looks."

"Uh…" Roxas shifted in his seat, trying to put the thoughts of his visit from earlier out of his mind. "Yeah…"

Demyx was frowning at the cards in his hand, eventually blowing a sharp sigh and flipping his cards a bit more forcefully than before. "Ugh, fold."

He slumped back in his seat with his arms crossed, looking more than a little disgruntled. Roxas wondered if he shouldn't say something, but now it was his turn to play. The flop was a promising collection of cards — a king of spades, an eight of diamonds, and a two of clubs. If Roxas remembered correctly, having two matching pairs was a good sign, and, his chest fluttering with excitement, he boldly dropped a few more chips into the center of the table. Luxord's eyes lit up with delight as another circle of bets commenced, but Xigbar had fixated on the forlorn-looking Demyx for the moment.

"Demyx, are you okay? You look sick, man."

Demyx blinked, lifting his head. "What? I'm fine."

"Something is troubling you. Care to get it off your chest?" Luxord asked as he laid down the turn — a six of spades.

"Yeah buddy, we're your friends!" Xigbar insisted. "Whatever's on your mind, you can tell us!"

Roxas could read Demyx's emotions quite prominently, but they were a bit of a mess. There were a multitude of different feelings tangled up inside him, and it was no wonder he wasn't speaking up. A handful of those emotions mirrored those Roxas had sensed from others — a great deal of anxiety stood at the forefront, dominating his thoughts as anxiety often did. Roxas could almost hear the racing in his mind as a flood of worst case scenarios played for him on a loop. To his surprise, Demyx's feelings reminded Roxas most of Saïx's plight — a warring cacophony of grief, longing, and fear. It was different for Demyx, not quite as mature, not quite as clear, and far more fresh than the years-long rot he'd found in Saïx. But the emotions, even young, new, and a bit unfocused, were certainly the budding precursors to the pain that Saïx and Axel were feeling. Roxas longed to prod the musician, to understand the source of his distress, but couldn't bring himself to overstep.

Demyx tried to placate them with an unconvincing bit of reassurance. "Really, guys, I'm fine."

"It's about Zexion, isn't it?"

It was Luxord who'd decided to pry. At the sound of Zexion's name, Demyx's brows shot up and the color drained from his face. "Wh-What? Zexion?"

"You think we don't know?" Xigbar laughed endearingly. "Come on, kid, we've been in the game for a hell of a long time. We can tell what's up."

Perplexed, Roxas turned to his companion with genuine curiosity. "What do they mean, Demyx?"

Demyx just sighed heavily and let his head sink onto the table. Luxord and Xigbar shared a brief laugh at his expense, but upon seeing that he wouldn't budge, they changed their tune. Looking piteous, Luxord softened his tone to put him at ease while Xigbar gently patted his back.

"It's not set in stone, Demyx. Besides, Saïx is quite a fighter. I'd say Zexion will be in pretty good hands."

Demyx didn't look up at either of them. "I know, I know… I just… I don't know…"

Luxord leaned in toward Xigbar and whispered under his breath. "This is adorable."

"I'm squealing on the inside."

"Knock it off, you two!"

Now, Roxas understood the emotions he'd been sensing. There was something between Demyx and Zexion — something special, reminiscent of that ache that Roxas felt between Axel and Saïx, and even in many ways similar to the graceful pull between Luxord and Xigbar. It was still quite a foreign sensation to Roxas, but whatever it was, it was quite powerful, regardless of what stage in its development. New and young, as with Demyx and Zexion. Tested and bruised, like with Saïx and Axel. Old and flourished as between Luxord and Xigbar. The strength of the emotion did not falter in the slightest between any of them — beautiful, but almost painful in how intense it could be.

Again, Roxas longed to interfere, to sate his own curiosity on the matter and understand this uniquely human and infuriatingly adult emotion that lay just outside his own grasp. But, as before, Roxas lacked the nerve to voice his questions, unwilling to interrupt the exchange between his comrades for the time being.

"Hey, kid, don't be mad," Xigbar said persuasively. "We're just teasing. We're really happy for you!"

"You've made us quite proud, my boy."

Demyx grumbled, recoiling from his companions as they reached for him. "Not in front of Roxas…!"

"Ah, let him look," Xigbar scoffed, tightly and affectionately wrapping an arm around the musician's shoulders. "Now, don't you worry 'bout a thing. Zexion will be just fine with a tank like Saïx protecting him. You just focus on your mission and let's bring our comrade home tomorrow, okay?"

The trio shared a long look before Demyx finally relented. "Okay."

"And hey, Daddy Xiggy is always here if you need to talk. Uncle Luxord, too. We care about you, sport."
Demyx's cheeks began to turn a bit pink and his lips curled into a meek smile. "Thanks, guys."

"Shall we finish this hand, then?"

"Show us the river, baby."

The fifth card laid on the table was an eight of hearts, and Roxas felt his stomach drop the moment it came into view. Luxord allowed a moment for the remaining players to process the full set before turning to Xigbar, who only flipped over his cards with a solemn shake of his head. Roxas was next, his eyes burning into his cards. He couldn't quite remember the significance of having both a pair of cards along with three of the same value. Surely it carried some weight, but enough to defeat Luxord? Roxas didn't necessarily want to sacrifice more chips, but wasn't ready to back down, either.

"Check."

Luxord raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly as he picked up a few chips from his own pile and placed them in the center of the table. The current bet was five, and it was now on Roxas to see it or to fold. Without taking his eyes off his opponent, he picked up ten of his own chips and dropped them in the middle, doubling Luxord's wager. Xigbar and Demyx were at the edges of their seats, elbows on the table and watching with widened eyes as their comrades repeated the pattern back and forth until Roxas had spent his last chip.

"Well, Roxas," Luxord gloated, matching Roxas' bet and politely nodding. "Let's see what you have."

Roxas hesitated, clutching his cards tightly for a moment before finally laying them on the table for all to see. Gasps were heard all around as every eye widened at the sight of his hand. "A full house!"

"Amazing!"

"Luxord?"

The man hummed thoughtfully as he peered down at Roxas' cards with his expertly blank expression. After a tense beat of silence, he set his cards aside and extended a hand toward his foe. "I will yield."

Enthusiastic clapping and cheering immediately followed Luxord's surrender. "Roxas, you won!"

"Wait, wh-what?"

"I concede defeat," Luxord bowed his head. "You've bested me tonight, Roxas. You take the pot."

Roxas returned his handshake, still struggling to understand what had just happened. "B-But… we haven't seen your cards. How do we know…?"

"It doesn't matter, buddy. He let you have it!"

"Congrats, kiddo!"

Luxord never did show his losing hand, and Roxas accepted that he might never understand why, but a few seconds of high praise from the other players was enough to wipe that mystery from his mind. Either he'd won fair and square, or Luxord cared enough about his enjoyment to let him win, and either outcome was heartwarming enough for Roxas.

The applause settled down and Xigbar let out an exaggerated yawn. "Bed time for me…"

Luxord was quick to join him, clearing up his cards as they rose from their seats. He sent a smile back over his shoulder as he followed Xigbar to the exit. "I'll see you in the morning, Demyx. Farewell, Roxas."

Demyx and Roxas nodded in return. "Goodnight."

Together, the men swayed with every step on their way out, fingers linked and with their heads leaning on one another. They took their sweet time in leaving, but once they were gone, Demyx hopped up to his feet and offered Roxas assistance in standing on his own. "Well, Roxas, can I walk you back?"

"Sure," he said, graciously accepting the hand up from the sofa. "Thanks."

They didn't talk along the journey back to Roxas' room. It was late, and they were both tired, but Roxas could still sense some restlessness in Demyx, the anxiety that he struggled to bottle up. It did seem odd to send Zexion on the search and leave Roxas alone with the Superior, and he could admit without shame that the idea made him just as nervous, but he knew that it was different for the musician. In Demyx, Roxas sensed a deep concern for the young scientist's safety and wellbeing, originating from a place of deep attachment. A powerful instinct to protect him at all costs. A strong conviction that, of the pair, one simply could not carry on without the other. Roxas was reminded of his friendship with Axel, Axel's battered connection to Saïx, the aged companionship between Xigbar and Luxord, the newly blossoming affection between Demyx and Zexion — the "relationships" of which Xemnas spoke. To Roxas, those connections carried all the same weight as the bond between the trio in the mirror. Just taking a moment to dwell on the pure humanity of it all was enough to overwhelm him, and before he knew it, Roxas was steadying himself against the wall as another pain struck him in his core.

"Whoa," Demyx crouched down, ready to catch him if he fell. "What is it, buddy? You okay?"

"It really is happening to all of you…" Roxas breathed, unable to truly articulate his thoughts as the spasm climbed toward its apex. "It's… It's beautiful."

"Huh?"

The pain was fading, and Roxas explained between labored breaths. "Xemnas came to visit me… He said that everyone can feel again, even him. I didn't want to believe it, but…" he drew in a shaky inhale. "Xemnas is really, really sad."

"Sad?" Demyx cocked his head. "What's he got to be sad about?"

"I don't know. But it must be pretty bad to hurt him like that."

In Xemnas, Roxas had sensed an overwhelming sense of loss, a grief even more painful than that of Saïx or Axel. He didn't have to question just who the man had been mourning — there was clearly a reason that those strangers in the mirror only ever appeared as incorporeal spirits in his reflection. Every one of them must have been gone, and even though there was no sign of Xemnas in those memories, he must have been close to them, and had been weathering the ache of their absence alone for all these years.

Demyx seemed lost for words and didn't say anything after that. They resumed their trek, albeit more slowly than before. Sensing that he was still troubled, Roxas thought back on some advice he'd received just the other night. Words he needed to hear, spoken from another troubled man who clearly needed to hear them just as much.

"Hey, Demyx?"

"Yeah?"

"Hold on, okay?" he clasped his sleeve, locking eyes with him just as fervently as Saïx had before. "You know… for Zexion."

Demyx paused. "H-Huh?"

"If we want to make it, we gotta fight… and we all have someone worth fighting for. If Zexion's your someone, then you gotta fight hard for him."

Demyx looked sincerely lost at first, but Roxas watched as the realization slowly came over him, his expression warming as it shifted from confusion to understanding. "I will, Roxas," his voice was breathy and low, and wobbled a bit when he spoke. "Thanks a lot… for reminding me."

They bid their farewells once they'd made it safely back to his room. Roxas hadn't realized just how exhausted he was until he laid eyes on the fresh linens on his bed, newly made up and ready to be slept in. He glanced around his room, finding it as immaculate as ever — no doubt at the command of the higher ups, wishing to keep him healthy by sending Dusks nearly every hour just to clean the place before he ever had a chance to dirty it up. He passed by his desk to find that the bowl of soup was gone, and the journal was neatly put away in its drawer. The mirror still glistened brightly, enticing him to take a peek at his reflection when he approached the closet to undress. There were no strangers standing beside him now. He only saw himself behind the glass, just as it should be. For one evening, he'd gotten a taste of normalcy. He had the chance to just exist as his comrades did — enjoying himself for his own sake, spending time with his found family, and setting aside his cares for just an hour or two. One evening was all he could have, and one was all that he needed. After tonight, he could walk back into perpetual stillness, satisfied, newly refreshed, and feeling far less alone.

We all have someone worth fighting for… Roxas pondered his own words while waiting for sleep to take him. Had anyone asked him who his someone was, he'd have said Axel without a second thought. He had to share that vow with Saïx, and as far as Roxas was concerned, that only made the promise stronger. He wondered if Xemnas had any such purpose — a someone to fight for.

As he lay beneath the covers, the entity inside him began wriggling slightly, like a cat turning in circles before settling in to sleep. Roxas gingerly laid his hands over his belly, just listening for the moment. He was too tired to be annoyed or angry with the creature just then, instead patiently waiting for it to be still.

"Listen, uh… if you're Ventus…" he whispered with some uncertainty. "I'll protect you, okay? If you're his someone… I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

The rumbling and rolling did not cease, and Roxas wondered for a moment if the creature could hear him. "Just… I don't want to die," he pleaded quietly. "Whatever you end up doing… please, let me live. I… If someone is fighting for me, I don't want to let them down."

The creature was still again, and before Roxas could finish his request, he drifted off to the most restful sleep he'd had in months. In his dreams, he finally made it back to the clock tower, ice cream in hand and best friend at his side. He saw those strangers, lying in the grass and gazing at the sky — just like he would watch the sunset with Axel. There was no difference between those bonds. Friendship, family… they felt the same to him. The heart did not discriminate. Roxas understood perfectly. That closeness among his comrades was the blissful sensation of their hearts linked together by what Roxas believed was called 'love.'

Yes, that explained it all. That was the truth. It didn't have to make sense. It was just a dream.

Thanks again for reading another chapter of mine! This story is about to get *real* so fasten your seatbelts and stay tuned for the next section! We're coming up to the parts that I wrote first, before ever writing anything else. It's been a year and a half that I've waited to post them, so I hope you're as excited as I am!

As always, you can find me on twitter where I'm currently screaming about Ignis from FFXV. I also sometimes post sneak previews of my writing, fan art that I've done, and even Data Greetings! I'm on tumblr, too, under the same name, making just as much noise there.

Here's my Discord server link! /ffy5E8G

Peace and Love,

Ostelan