5.

Ienzo tried to do as Even said. He took the pills-one in the morning, one at night. He set a timer and forced himself to eat every four hours, though he had little appetite. The weight he'd lost from his heavy magic use began to come back on. He no longer felt so dizzy or achy.

But the anti-anxiety medication made him feel a bit foggy, a bit dissociative. He passed the time reading about it. For the first time in months, Ienzo visited the library for the sake of fiction, and spent a pleasurable few days rereading an old childhood favorite.

He tried to write and reflect as to what this whole experience had taught him, but found himself staring at blank pages, blank screens. Was he not ready, to delve into this mess? Or did he have nothing of insight to say?

This abandoned, Ienzo went outside.

It was summer now, and very warm, the bright light a shock to his tender eyes. He suspected he was beginning to need glasses, no doubt an accumulation of years in front of pages and screens. He saw children playing in the streets, groups of friends, a young couple or two with their hands linked. Compared to the empty, massive castle, Radiant Garden felt full of life.

Nobody seemed to recognize him, and for this he was grateful. He kept walking, letting his mind wander, eavesdropping idly and taking in the colors and smells, all of it too much in a good way. He walked, he drifted. Without consciously realizing it, he'd brought himself to the cemetery.

It was well-kept, despite the obvious bits of destruction-broken memorial stones, the brick wall still a work in progress, grass growing over gouge marks from Heartless. For a second Ienzo struggled to remember where it was before sense memory kicked in.

There they were, side-by-side. The mortuary tablets were rather dirty. If he'd known, he would've brought supplies to clean. Disrespectful. He read his parents' names, his own old surname before the adoption gave him Ansem's. He whispered the name aloud, just to hear it. It was much softer sounding than Zexion. Light. Rhythmic.

The idea had originally been for his parents to be apprentices, not him. They were both scholars in their own right, his mother a botanist, his father a physicist. They'd hoped to be older before they had their first child, but these things happened, and they did so love Ienzo, as Ansem had told him. Noticing Ienzo's brilliance… and hoping to grant his parents' wishes… Ansem took him in and gave him an education. And the rest was history.

He knelt and bowed his head. He barely remembered either of these people, just flashes of joy and warmth and comfort; a pat on the head, hands tucking him in. He'd only been five when they passed, a freak accident, a fire. It hadn't been the flames that killed them, but the smoke; only a well-placed wet cloth over his own nose and mouth had kept him alive until the fire brigade arrived.

Ienzo wished he didn't remember this, but he did. The house had been built into a stone wall, and the internal structure collapsed, blocking the only real door. Father had tried his hardest to carve a way out, but he was a physically weak academic and the smoke got him, falling first to his knees. Mother had turned Ienzo's face away, sang him a lullaby, curled him a bit more tightly in her arms-

What good was thinking about this?

What would they think of him now? If they knew what he'd do? Would Mother perhaps have held that cloth a little tighter, a little closer, until-

"Ienzo? What are you doing here?"

His head snapped up. He saw Dilan, in casual clothing, his eyes mottled and red. "I suppose… the same as you," he said. He knew distantly that Dilan had lost a lover at some point; not through any conscious admittance by the man himself, but through drunken conversations Ienzo had eavesdropped on.

Dilan came closer and looked down at the memorials. "I… remember that day all too well," he said, with a sigh. "Your parents weren't the only ones who were lost in that fire. That part of town… the houses were too much on top of one another. You might consider yourself lucky."

Ienzo laughed. "In a cosmic way, I suppose I am."

Another pause. Then more cautiously, "she was a lovely woman, your mother. Very warm. I've hardly ever met a scientist who was so good-humored. I think in some lights you look like her."

Ienzo cocked his head. "Really?"

"Well, the premature gray is unmistakable. And here…" He gestured to his jaw.

Ienzo looked at his palms. "Is it bad that I scarcely remember what they looked like?" All of their possessions had been lost in the fire, including photos.

"Oh, there may be a picture or two hanging around-there would've been official portraits when they took on the apprenticeship," Dilan explained, at his baffled expression. "Would you like that, if I were to find them?"

"I would-very much so." It took him a moment to realize why Dilan was being so saccharine to him. It was compensation. Ienzo stood slowly, flinching at the ache in his knees.

"You were so very young," Dilan said. "So small. I remember thinking that."

"I suppose you dissented then, when Ansem took me in?"

"Of course I did. What a place to raise a child, after all. But we didn't do much parenting of you, did we?"

"...Quite." Ienzo did not want to get into another screaming match. He turned to leave.

"Are you feeling better? I heard you were rather ill."

The meditative mood that had come over him upon entering this place was quickly shattered. "Yes, I am," he said.

"I'm aware we've… scarcely spoken in some years."

Ienzo thought about it. Even in those "halcyon" days, he'd never been close to Dilan. And further pulled away to different teams in the Organization. "No, I don't suppose we have." Then again, what was there to say?

"Do you enjoy being human?" Dilan asked, the same way an adult might awkwardly ask a child something.

Ienzo shook his head; not in response, but the inanity of the question. "I'm afraid the jury's still out. Not that I have a choice, here."

"You have choices," Dilan said. "So many."

"Is your life written in stone, then?" he asked, sourly.

"The others wish to atone and I wish to keep them safe while they do so," Dilan said. "So yes, I suppose."

Ienzo cocked his head. "Safe from what? Heartless?"

"Those that may seek revenge," Dilan said slowly.

Ienzo scoffed and turned away again.

"I am not being facetious."

He shot him a look.

"We've wrought havoc on this town," Dilan said. "The lives lost in our lab… people remember those loved ones, and miss them. Now it's public knowledge we're back… surely there may be more than some cruel words thrown at one on the street. People are armed to the teeth with all the Heartless."

"Assassination would be too quick of a way to go," Ienzo said simply. "More like they best let us fester in this guilt, if they wish for punishment."

"Is that what you want? To be punished?"

Ienzo scowled. Twice was a coincidence; three times was a connection. Demyx, Even, now Dilan lecturing him about suffering. "Do I walk around with a boorish look on my face?"

Dilan raised an eyebrow. "I've noticed that as soon as your emotion reaches your face, you snap it back to neutral… put on a mask. Almost impressive, how quickly you can do it. Putting yourself aside… for whatever inane nonsense they subject you to. I'd hoped you would at least enjoy some pleasures of life, however small. Yet to not allow yourself to feel -"

"I feel ," he spat. "entirely too much." He was on the verge of adding, and you never allowed yourself to feel without a bottle in your hand , but didn't.

"I suppose you must. The weight of emotion must be somewhat unbearable."

"That," he said, "is putting it mildly."

Dilan considered. "Do you feel very bitter?"

This was very quickly becoming a confrontation, something Ienzo had no energy for. "Why is it you want to know?"

"Because if I were you, I would," he said, with a shake of his head. "If I were you, after all you'd been put through, I'd leave that castle seething… and never come back. Why is it you stay?"

The last thing Ienzo expected him to say-he felt his eyebrows raise. "Well I've… work to do."

"And the men you must work with?"

"Ansem has never wronged me. And Even and I are mending things. We've known one another for so long. I…" He trailed off uselessly, unable to identify the emotion now curdling within him. He squinted, trying to name it. It felt vaguely as though it were clamped to his thyroid. "I've no one else," he realized slowly, and it was a very, very cold revelation.

"...No," Dilan agreed. "Neither have I."

Ienzo swallowed. He was, again, teary. He'd never needed friends before, or people in general, content to squirrel himself away. But did he need people now? Really, truly?

If not for Demyx, for Even, it was very likely that his physical condition would have continued to deteriorate until he… what, died?

Quite possibly, yes.

Ienzo realized, so slowly, that he no longer desired death. Then what did he want?

What did he want?

A chance to set things right. But clearly so far what he'd been doing was… more or less an elegant form of slow-moving suicide. But what of his powers? Wasn't it worth it, to regain them? He felt more mixed up and confused than ever before. "Perhaps, then, we should try harder," he said slowly, and then left, lost in thought.

Ienzo didn't get far.

"Zo! You're up and about!"

He would be startled, but he wasn't. He seemed to perpetually run into Demyx lately. "Hello."

The other boy was flushed, grinning. There was a small harness over his shoulders, but devoid of packages. "How do you feel?"

"Quite a lot better," he admitted. "I must apologize to you. And thank you, for that matter."

He rubbed the back of his neck, but his expression was taut, tense. "I wouldn't just leave you there. I'm… good at delivering bodies. Right?"

Ienzo smiled a little. "That you are."

"So what happened?"

"In a word-overwork." He sighed. "Exhaustion, stress. It became too much for me. I've been… waylaid, until I recover, and find myself with far too much time on my hands."

He grinned. "Well. At least you're doing better. I'm done for a bit, so do you wanna get lunch?"

"...I could eat."

"Awesome. Let's go. You're going to love this place." His posture was different, and almost unconsciously now and again he would touch his back.

"Are you alright?" Ienzo asked, realizing the irony.

Demyx shrugged. "Real heavy stuff irritates my back. Old wound. You know?"

"...I guess business is going well?"

Demyx groaned. "Too well. I've barely had time to even… well, eat."

Ienzo wondered why Demyx didn't just shirk off. But he'd mentioned he'd like talking to people, and Kairi had said he was lonely. Perhaps delivering these packages gave him some much needed positive interaction-which he hardly ever received at the castle.

Demyx brought him over to a stand which seemed to be selling some kind of soup. The vendor greeted him by name. The smells were thick, delicious-scallions, spice, the salt of broth-and for the first time in months Ienzo felt hungry. "Who's your friend?" The woman asked.

Demyx clapped a hand on his shoulder. " This is my roomie Ienzo."

The touch was, again, disconcerting; he could almost feel the imprint of Demyx's hand, warm through the fabric. "Hello," he said.

The woman studied him. "That name is… familiar." She put out two servings of the meal, with chopsticks. "Wait. Aren't you-"

"...I was Ansem's ward," he admitted softly. "Ansem the Wise."

"...Yes," she said slowly. Then, to Demyx. "I thought you lived near the castle-not in it."

Demyx shrugged. "Same diff."

The woman studied Ienzo. There was something… careful, in her gaze. "It's a relief to know he's still alive. And you."

"Thank you. I appreciate it. It is good to be back in town."

She accepted Demyx's money without comment and they took their bowls to a nearby table.

"Guess you're a celebrity," Demyx said, clicking his chopsticks.

"Well, I was the king's son. But it was a blood monarchy-I am no prince." He sighed. "I suppose they… have no knowledge of my involvement." He stared down into his bowl of noodles. He had no idea if it was relieving or not to escape blame. He began eating, found it was all very good, the flavors subtle and well-mingled. "I suppose you must eat around town, then?"

"Yeah. There's so much to try, and it's all pretty cheap."

"I can repay you when we get back-"

Demyx clacked the chopsticks. "No, Ienzo. It's fine. I'm not exactly struggling. Scrooge is a cheapskate, but he pays his employees well."

Ienzo wondered what he did do with his money.

"I mean, I give Ansem some money for the room, and I feed myself, but…" A sigh. "You're going to think this is dumb."

"I doubt that."

"I want a house. A home. Eventually."

He blinked. "That's not stupid."

Demyx shrugged. "A place I can be me… where I can't be bothered."

"Like the greenhouse."

He locked eyes with him. "Yes. Exactly."

Ienzo considered. He sipped his broth, which was slightly too warm in the summer heat but soothing in another way. "I wonder if I want the same," he said softly.

"It's part of growing up. Living on your own. Though you got a sweet deal. Can't say I blame you for sticking around."

"It's hardly sweet."

"Well, Ansem provides for your every whim. That's kind of sweet."

He had a point. "Maybe someday we'll be neighbors, and not merely roommates," he said.

Demyx smiled a little. "Could you imagine?"

Ienzo thought. "Actually, I can." He can imagine Demyx's future so clearly. Personable, talented. He'd do well for himself, Ienzo was sure. But his own future? Without research, who was he? "Query."

He raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."

"Where do you see yourself going?"

"What, in general?"

"Yes. What do you want?"

Demyx wrinkled his nose. "I don't think I'd mind hacking it at performing. And-" He leaned back a little, wincing as his body hit the chair. "I don't know. I'm kind of glad to see what life has for me, you know what I mean? Doing good things where I can. And…" A wry laugh. "I don't know. I wouldn't mind looking for a boyfriend or girlfriend, if the right person came along. Someone to spend time with."

Ienzo felt the blood warm his face. He'd never considered… relationships, emotionally or physically. He wasn't sure he was capable. "I didn't realize you were a romantic."

"I think anyone can be," he said vaguely. "Yeah. It would be nice to mean something to someone… and get to love them in turn."

"Do you think we're capable of love?"

Demyx flinched, his gaze becoming guarded. "Kind of rude of you to say that."

Ienzo put a hand to his brow; it had been an honest question, not one meant to gut. "Forgive me-that was not what I meant. I meant it quite literally."

Demyx considered. So strange, to see him actually think, and not just spit out the first thing his facade told him to. "I think so," he said slowly. "I mean… people, right? One of the universal needs is to love and be loved-in any form. People need people. It's pretty natural."

"I've lived my life so isolated, hardly ever desiring company," he admitted, shaking his head. "Perhaps that might be worth changing… seeing everything that we've seen."

The guard relaxed just the slightest in his eyes. "Are you lonely?"

Ienzo blinked. There was hardly anything left of his soup, so no way to easily deflect. Had that been the deep emotion he'd felt earlier? "Quite possibly-though I've never consciously identified that feeling." He didn't know where to begin with people. How to engage, to talk to them, in a purely positive manner.

Demyx sighed. Then, "Well, why don't we be friends, then?"

He raised an eyebrow. "So simply?"

He shrugged. "I mean it's been fine the last few times we've talked, right? When you're not… falling apart on me, I mean."

Ienzo flushed. "I am a mess."

"Well I am too." He bit his lip. "So what do you say?"

Ienzo smiled; it felt odd. "Alright. Friends."

Later that night he considered what Demyx had been talking about. Ienzo couldn't help but be impressed with his ability to see beyond the current circumstances. Ienzo had once been a master tactician, but he'd always planned for the Organization's longevity, not his own. Merely surviving had been good enough for Zexion. But his own life? Perhaps to plan for its longevity, treat it like a mission to be endured, a game to be won? But without concrete goals… he was floundering.

His new cause to care about needed to be his humanity. He did need friends, social outlets. He turned that conversation over and over in his mind. Was Ienzo capable of love? There were things he loved, certainly, books he'd read, food he'd eaten, the feel of sunlight. There were things he was passionate about-learning and research. But people ? Loving meant being vulnerable… and he was hardly even able to do that around himself , let alone someone else.

Not entirely true.

It was one thing to out and out cry around Even-the man had seen him far worse, especially as a child. But he'd broken down as well in front of Demyx, who he barely knew on a personal level despite their years of working together. To allow emotions into the forefront of his being… was daunting. Where to begin?

Maybe the library would have answers?

One of Ienzo's specialties as a young apprentice had been psychology. Not necessarily a hard science, not like what the others subscribed to, but one could get an awful lot of insight to the heart through the mind. How could a heart's desires be realized without thought? How else could a heart make a body feel ? He'd used this working of the inner mind to manipulate people, break them. He'd never used it to heal .

He pulled books on abnormal psychology, therapies. Very quickly he discovered that the ideal way to heal oneself using therapy would be to, well, go to a therapist. Doubtful there was one around here, and even if there were, how could Ienzo just go , given what he'd done to this town? He'd have to take matters into his own hands. Be his own sounding board. He wasn't sure it was possible.

"Oh, Ienzo, I would've hoped you'd be out enjoying this lovely day."

He started a little, almost dropping his volumes. "Master."

Ansem cocked his head slightly. He'd shed the red stole and jacket-likely it was very warm in the computer room. Seeing him, too, without the frame of his coat was jarring. "Enough of this "Master" nonsense," he said, with a wave of his hand. "I'm a king no longer, and I am your father. I insist you call me by my name."

Ienzo blinked. "Are you quite sure?"

He gave him a look. "Why should you submit to me when we're working together as equals? Besides… that choice was questionable enough when you were younger-though I'm sure hearing everyone else say it didn't help."

"Monkey see monkey do," Ienzo muttered. "Alright. Ansem. " The name felt weird in his mouth, halved.

Ansem chuckled. "Indeed. What is it you were reading about?"

Ienzo considered lying. But doubtless Even had told him everything, at least the physical side of it, used it as an excuse to yell at the man. "Abnormal psychology," he admitted.

"Is that… relevant to current events?" Ansem asked, not without caution.

"Quite," Ienzo said. He cleared his throat. "I am… very anxious, and struggling to learn to feel. Well, no. I do feel. It's merely-"

"Unfamiliar and therefore difficult to internalize."

"Yes."

"I was told to… make my new devotion my humanity." He sneered.

Ansem looked confused. "As though that's a bad or shameful thing?"'

"Isn't it? I can barely work anymore without completely falling apart."

"Your body has changed radically-and the presence of a heart is doubtless a new variable to the experiment called "Ienzo.""

This made him laugh. "It does indeed feel like an experiment."

"You're being too harsh on yourself," Ansem said. "You worked so hard to provide Roxas and Naminé with new bodies. You need time . Thankfully, we do not have the threat of Xehanort's apocalypse looming over us. Radiant Garden is whole and you are well."

"But Sora could be slipping away day by day-"

"He could be, but likely isn't. You forget I in my own way spent time with that child." He sighed. He'd told Ienzo the story about DiZ shortly after they'd been reunited. "He is nothing if not tenacious. Just as we are reaching for him-he is reaching for us."

"I certainly hope so."

Ansem squeezed his shoulder. "Have you a few moments? Perhaps we could get some ice cream?"

"Didn't you come here for a reason?"

Ansem shrugged. "These things can wait," he said. "Come along, then."