All I loved, I loved alone
The dark corridor collapsed on the King, clad in a black, ankle length jacket with silver zippers. Leon waited on the upper platform, chin resting on top of laced fingers. Light from the portal room played across his pendant. When the hovering platform clicked back to the indent in the circular floor, he straightened and mentally sifted through the day's work.
He ducked when a dark shape soared out of the corridor and smashed against the rocky wall of the portal room. Sticky, liquid darkness spattered on his coat.
Ejected out of the writhing darkness and colliding against the wall, a sickening pain rocked across Sora's skull. He moaned. The taste of filth clawed in his throat, he turned and vomited all over the floor.
Tears leaked from his eyes. He convulsed painfully. Retching, he threw up again, black, oily fluid falling in sticky strings from his mouth.
The moment the liquid cocoon shot out of the dark corridor, Vanitas blearily observed it hitting the far wall. Time loped at half speed. His twin slid down, leaving a smear on the rocks, and crouched on all fours, vomiting violently.
Do something! His mind screamed.
Never had so much fear poisoned his veins. He laughed in the face of death and danger, but if something ever happened to Sora... he would never forgive himself. Donald and Goofy cautiously emerged from the dark corridor, alarm clearly on their expressions.
"Don't stand there, help me with him!" Squall ordered. Sora shuddered, he raised a dripping, clawed hand and scratched the boss's face. "Clavius!" Leon barked. Vanitas gawped, mind shutting into catatonic shock. He clutched his hair and stumbled backwards. Leon hauled the King upright, Sora growled and jerked free, he ripped the earth and brought the other hand to lacerate his throat.
Donald cast bind and Sora spasmed erratically. He smashed his hand to the floor and squealed in pain when the liquid shroud of darkness rained off.
"My fault," Vanitas whimpered, his golden irises glassy. "I'm the one who told him to go into a dark corridor... he's going to die because of me." He giggled hysterically and grabbed a tuft of his hair, his back against the wall. "I promised... I promised Mom and Dad..."
Bleeding from shallow wounds, Squall irritably pinned the thrashing Sora between his legs. The King hissed, eyes the exact same shade as his twin. He gagged and throwing Leon off, hung his head to the ground. Dark veins spread under his eyes and Sora blinked slowly, smirking at Leon like he enjoyed a private, sarcastic joke.
"Vanitas!" Squall snapped, "Fetch Tifa and send for a restraining squad."
Restraining squad?
"Move!" The chief exasperatedly roared and Vanitas sprang into action.
He climbed the upper platform and faltered when dashing past his brother.
"We don't have time-" Leon inhaled sharply when Sora launched himself, missed his brother by a mile and raked the wall.
He staggered back, a scintilla of clarity in the confusion hazing his expression. Darkness dribbled from the corners of his chin.
"What... what's wrong with him?" Vanitas asked, voice a high pitched whine and Leon gave up expecting any coherent cooperation from the Black Saint. "His eyes are like mine... why is he like this?"
The King spat. Veins spread down his neck. His irises blazed like the sun. "Dark corridor poisoning," Leon muttered. "Your brother is suffering from an extreme case." He sent Donald to fetch his capable vice-chief. "He needs to recuperate at a place high in spiritual power concentration." Leon frowned thoughtfully. "...They have strict rules in regards to whom they allow in their village."
Approaching his brother cautiously, Vanitas reached out a hand and received a vicious scratch in response. Sora stuffed his fingers in his mouth; vainly stopping the nausea and the waves of darkness bleeding from his lips. He lurched once more before stilling like a puppet with its strings cut.
"I cast a double bind," Leon explained and dug a wad of tissue from his pocket. "Clean yourself." He exhaled tiredly and pressed the clean sheets against Vanitas' upper arm, scored by a lattice of thinly bleeding cuts.
The Black Saint collapsed and painstakingly removed the dark corridor residue sticking to his brother's hair and clothes. He unzipped the jacket and recoiled when a tendril of darkness shot out and wrapped around his wrist.
Shaking it off, he wiped smudges of blood from Sora's face. "Is darkness poisonous to him?" he timidly asked.
The vice-chief, accompanied by a squad of Mid-tier operatives, ascended the ramp and secured the portal room.
"Not darkness itself," Leon relinquished his command to Tifa. The sudden events drained him and if Ariel found out he spent the last two nights furnished with only three hours of sleep, she will prescribe unnecessary amounts of bed rest. "If darkness was poisonous, you two wouldn't be able to live with each other. He's got dark corridor poisoning," Leon repeated to the vice-chief. "Is Fey on her way?"
Flapping to a stop, Donald replied in affirmative.
"Whatever," Leon shrugged his jacket off. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office."
04:10 p.m.
Keyblade Wielder's Association
Portal room
Darkness crushed him like the never ending waves of a fathomless sea and paralyzed by fright, Sora seized. The moment he stepped in the vortex, he lost sight of his companions and...
A gripping pain slammed into his stomach.
He doubled over.
Pain. Pain... pain, pain, pain, pain.
Pain, as the corridor hurled him out from its velvety folds of darkness. His head crunched against the unforgiving wall and phosphenes scattered across his vision, a burst of bright colors swirling in the poisonous grip of fear and agony fogging his mind. He squeezed his throat to get rid of the disgusting taste of carrion, but the more he vomited, the more his stomach emptied its contents. The world filtered through a grainy screen. Specks of gold and cloying shadows. His arm involuntarily jerked, hashing the KBWA leader's face with scars.
Someone staggered on the lowered floor, near the unwholesome pillar of light. Sora hissed, mind numb. He fought to remain conscious through the red hot needles poking his veins. Legs pinned him down. He arched his back, defiantly threw the weight off and grinned. Blood from Leon's throat will look good on the tips of his fingers.
His obnoxious twin careered past him and stopped. Pathetic. Vani would never be able to survive without me. The thought injected Sora with glee. He could wrap his unsuspecting brother on a cat's cradle of strings and ask him to dance, to fight, to die and Vanitas will gladly do it.
I can fight. Sora rocketed off the ground, claw outstretched. Vani, lauded for his fighting prowess, quailed like a frightened rabbit and exuberant to have the upper hand on his annoyingly competent brother, Sora swiped for his throat.
For kin's blood.
A deep ache. The bitter taste of bile, far pungent from anything he ever experienced rammed into the back of his throat. He missed.
Missed.
Missed, his claws raking through the wall and screeching to a stop.
Get this off me! Sora wiped the tears stinging his cheeks. When Vanitas gently reached out to him, he thrashed, nails ripping through pale skin. Blood.
Darkness corkscrewed like liquid fire through the delicate capillaries in his face. His vision blanked. Get away from me! Sora inwardly screamed. Move. For the love of God… move!
His irises flicked rapidly when Leonhart cast bind. As expected, Vanitas sat next to him and cleaned the sticky mess from his head and clothes. Sora calmed down.
He longed for the sweet embrace of sleep.
The phone beeped, rousing him from a power nap. Fumbling across the desk and upsetting his glass penholder, Phoenix squinted at the screen.
An urgent message from the KBWA. The sender was Leonhart Squall, the boss out of all people.
Concerned, he handed his phone to Maya, seated in the living room with a snoozing Trucy on her lap. While the two growing closer made Wright more than happy, a minor worry remained; he did not want his darling daughter to inherit Maya's unholy love of burgers. A bunch of wrappers littered the overflowing coffee table and the telltale smear of grease glistened on Trucy's lips as she snored like a cute little lawnmower.
Maya read the message, eyes hardening in unease and Wright waited patiently for the news. His heart fluttered anxiously. "Sora has been poisoned," she slowly articulated.
Why is it always him?
"Poisoned?" Phoenix sunk into a couch, his legs wobbled like jelly. Apollo will not take the news easily. "Who poisoned him?"
Gently easing Trucy from her lap, Maya smiled passively when the girl sleepily frowned and slung her arm across Maya's waist. "I'm summoned to the KBWA," she stated and Phoenix dragged his daughter. Trucy woke for a spilt second, grinned at her father and clonked back to sleep. "No one poisoned him, its..." The spiritual medium pondered how to best explain the many techniques of the magical realm. "There is a mode of teleportation," Wright's eyebrows joined his hairline, "called dark corridors which allows us to access different planets easily." Maya smoothed her hair and robes. "Vanitas and Sora were supposed to meet the Wind Mage by passing through one of these, but it seems the dark corridor rejected Sora and it spat him out."
"A corridor rejected Sora..." Phoenix did not trust his words. "Pfft..." he chuckled and gulped when Maya glared sternly at him. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "it... ugh... it sounds so ridiculous I couldn't help myself." His dark irises dimmed apathetically. "I'm coming with you," he announced and covered Trucy with a blanket. "Pearls, look after her will you?" Wright added when she poked her head in the lounge.
Pearl nodded and glanced anxiously from Wright to Maya. "Did something happen to Sora?" she received a brief summary. "Oh..." she involuntarily raised her hand to her mouth, "I hope he recovers quickly.
06:00 p.m.
Keyblade Wielder's Association
Infirmary
A mermaid.
She floated around in a bubble of air.
How convenient, she doesn't need to tire her legs...
Wait, she doesn't have legs.
The first time Sora visited the infirmary for a mandatory mental check-up after the disastrous events half a year ago, he consulted Ariel with a desk between them and politely fixed his eyes on a medical brochure. Gorgeous, red haired doctors should not be checking patients wearing nothing but a stylized bikini. His cheeks prickled, he awkwardly wiped his sweaty hands a dozen times on his tracksuit pants and found it difficult to meet the therapist's eyes.
Turns out, she wasn't human.
Lying in bed with the world filtering into him through a giant sieve of cotton and pain, Sora blinked, eyes a shocking gold. The tint did not flatter him. If anything, it frightened him. Ariel explained the characteristics of those tainted with darkness, apparently, their irises colored gold and if the taint infected an individual severely, their hair lightened into a bewitching silver. The mention of silver forced Nox to surface in Sora's mind, from there, his thoughts galloped past a hundred other avenues. His upcoming case. The failed training and the countless hours he must make up at the gym. The loathsome taste persisting at the back of his throat.
And lastly, to Vanitas.
He wracked his brains. Think! Did Vanitas have golden irises when they were kids? Each time Sora tried to assert his will, his limb juddered erratically. Darkness wrapped one arm, tapering his fingers into a claw, the nails crusted with blood. Black veins crisscrossed his face, engorging the area under his eyelids and Ariel cast a shadow over him, a golden vial in her hands.
The smell of sweet ocean breeze wafted from her. She gently cradled Sora's head and tilted the liquid into his mouth. On the other end, Vanitas gripped the bedstead, knuckles white. The majority of the fluid dripped past Sora's lips and what little entered his mouth was immediately expelled with a cough. Ariel did not jerk away when he spluttered; instead, she wrapped her arms around him protectively as he buckled in pain.
"Is he... how long is the contamination going to stay in his system?" Vanitas demanded, voice a decibel lower than full blown hysteria. "It's been five hours."
Think! To when they were young, both Mom and Dad... Sora closed his eyes. Their parents used to visit the beach constantly, letting them run loose on the sand and sea. The tang of an ocean as toddler Sora fell face first and got up, chewing a mouthful of gritty sand and fussed over by his mother, shrieking at him to spit it out. Vanitas sensed their mother picking Sora up and wanting his share of attention, plopped obstinately where land kissed sea and screamed.
He thrashed in his father's hold and reached for the necklace around Sora's neck, crying for their mother.
Could the taint of darkness be inherited? Did their father have the bewitching, golden irises Vanitas was so famous for?
Eyes stinging, Sora wiped a tear, a smear of black. It leaked down his thumb and Vanitas clamped a tissue over it.
No. Sora exhaled, his lungs struggled to take in air. Mom and Dad had blue eyes.
They inherited their messy hair from their father. He always hugged the flailing, whining Vanitas close to his chest and dissatisfied, Vanitas would grab their father's thumb and chew on it viciously, glaring placidly all the way.
Where did Vanitas get his eyes?
The question swam in Sora's head, driving him crazy. Where? Where?
Where, where, where, wherewherewhere?
Where? When?
The pale twin made the mistake of leaning forward. Tiny pearls of blood sprang where Sora gnashed his teeth, biting his lips, and wanting to free his jaw, Vanitas moved closer. A hand shot up, grabbed his necklace and yanked him down. His forehead met Sora's with a sickening crack.
Two fingers jabbed under his eyes. Vanitas stared fearfully into his twin's maniacal, gleaming irises.
"Is..." Sora gasped, releasing him when Ariel intervened. "Is darkness." His tongue lingered on the s, a snake hissing. "Always the reason... for this?" He pointed to his eye.
The mermaid wiped the sweat beading on Sora's forehead. "Yes," she confirmed. "Vanitas' darkness is unique," the man in question scowled, "I'm not exact on the specifics, but investigations reveal it is the type of darkness his majesty, King Mickey uses. Those with golden eyes are marked with taint, which is unusual because he never displays any... wayward tendencies," Ariel delicately stated.
Her words elicited a giggle from Sora.
"…Apart from his headstrong personality. Those with golden eyes," she trailed off. The vice-chief pleaded her to treat Isa, who responded poorly to treatment. The King himself hunted down Riku and his rehabilitation program spanned a couple of years under strict intervention. At times Ariel woke to a knock on her living cube-room, and opened the door to the Grey Knight standing in the dim light of the accommodation block, eyes a blazing, cruel gold. "You don't have to worry about your brother," Ariel soothed, "he will be alright."
I'm not worried.
But I can't shake this feeling off. It's wrong.
Like a persistent itch which you can't scratch and refuses to go away.
Why is Vanitas' eyes that... that inhumane color? Why isn't it blue like the rest of us?
Why is it only bothering me now?
It hurts. My insides are burning. Sora curled on his side and whimpered. He gestured for the basin. Before Ariel could react; Vanitas, Donald and Goofy attended to him and convulsing, he threw up and wiped his mouth.
"It's not... your fault," Sora wheezed when Vanitas' hands trembled. "You... owe me... a new game..." he attempted a smile and his cheeks ached.
A door set into the frosted glass wall blocking a corner of the infirmary opened. Both Sora and Vanitas froze at the person exiting. The cyan haired man acknowledged Ariel with a curt nod, his hair barely reaching his nape. A crescent moon motif glittered on his jacket.
"It's... it's..." Vanitas absentmindedly patted his pocket and cursed under his breath.
"Saix..." Sora finished, respectful whisper ending in a painful wheeze. He tried to sit up, the darkness poisoning his veins sent a painful stab to the pit of his stomach and he fell back in the downy bed, the colorful, turquoise walls of the infirmary spinning around him. Swallowing heavily, he forced his nausea downwards. Gross, imagine throwing up in front of Organization XIII's software... developer?
Wait... the cogs in Sora's mind whirred.
He's the one who killed Roxas and the girl?
Isa paused at the entrance. Medical charts and naked, stripped of skin anatomy model plastered the walls. The rumors of the Clavius twins being huge fans of Organization XIII were no exaggeration. The Black Saint, a celebrity himself, gawped; a flush rising in his pallid cheeks while the King played with the crown necklace around his neck and tried to tone down his obvious staring.
Before any of them could speak, Isa whisked out.
While the twins digested the unexpected appearance of Saix, a group of people briskly entered the infirmary, talking all at once. Leon and Maya lead the vice-chief and Phoenix inside. The attorney ground to a halt when Ariel greeted him with a cheerful smile and very quickly, averted his gaze from the thick, aquamarine tail attached to the lady's waist. He regretted his decision to set foot into this bizarre realm of magic.
"A mermaid," Wright squeaked.
"A mermaid," Sora echoed with a half smirk. The devilish grin faded, replaced by a bewildered frown. "Mr. Wright..." he swallowed. "Please don't come close to me..." talking required herculean effort. "I already hurt the chief and Vanitas...I might hurt you too."
His boss nodded in understanding and scooted to the far end of the cozy infirmary; Sora couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment.
Grabbing the chair Vanitas vacated while he ogled Isa, Leon settled into it and rested his chin in a cupped palm. "As you are aware, the King is not in a good position." He motioned to the patient on the bed who glared at them darkly. "The Organization pointed to the Wind Mage as the perpetrator and like any good attorney putting his neck on the line for his clients, Sora wanted to meet Ventus, he was accompanied by Donald and Goofy."
A… a talking duck and a dog. The dog walks on two legs. Wright wondered if he should perhaps lay on one of the empty beds and register himself as a patient. Diagnosis: Extremely realistic hallucinations and the failure to cope with reality.
"His majesty's guards were loaned to the Black Saint and it's only fit they accompany the new King to Olympus. The corridor threw Clavius out and he attacked everything in sight." Large, rusty gashes striped Leon's shoulders. Thin crisscrosses covered his cheeks. "I subdued him and brought him here, we extracted the bulk of the poison from him, but he needs to recuperate at a place high in spirit power concentration," he said and waited expectantly for Maya. "A stay in Kurain Village will cure him faster than any medicine or cure spell we have." Ariel bowed politely to the spirit medium and handed her a report. "Are you willing to do us this favor, Madame Fey? Squall asked.
Maya scanned the report and tucked it into her sleeve. "For the last time," she huffed, "it's Maya. Madame Fey makes me sound old!" She glanced at Sora; the derisive smirk curling on his lips would be out of place even on Vanitas' face. "Of course!" she declared and Leon's light blue eyes softened in relief. "Sora is precious, I can't let him die on my watch!"
The golden magatama around Maya's neck glowed with wholesome light and hurt Sora's retinas.
"You are aware of our village regulations aren't you?" Maya further inquired and sighing, Leon replied in affirmative. "I can only take Sora-"
"What do you mean you're only taking Sora?" Vanitas exploded and Sora whistled. "I'm coming with, he can barely stand, much less do things on his own." Vanitas rounded on Maya. "Are you going to help him shower?" he demanded.
Meeting his volatile surge of fury with calm grace, Maya clasped her hands serenely. "Of course not, Nick is there to help." Her pewter blue eyes mellowed.
"I'm not letting my brother get into a shower with an old man!" Vanitas spat.
I'm not old! Phoenix crumpled. What did he do to deserve this? He laconically rubbed his temple and sat on an abandoned stool. Let those KBWA people sort their arguments out by themselves.
"Vanitas," Maya's voice grew rock steady. "Men are not allowed in the inner sanctums of our village and before you point out Nick, he has helped me many times." The Black Saint gritted his teeth audibly. "Besides, I'm sure Sora can live a day or two without you," the twins blinked in tandem, "he's got us to rely on." The spirit medium smiled.
What about me?
Glowering at a chart of head injuries tacked on the wall, Vanitas played with a chain on his jeans. "Men aren't allowed in the inner parts of your village," he confirmed and Maya nodded. Far away from the knot of crazy people, Phoenix blanched on realizing the loophole. "So I can stay on the outer fringes of Kurain and visit him," Vanitas crowed, pleased with himself. "You can't stop me from-"
"You are not allowed to go," the vice-chief cut in firmly. "Clavius, the KBWA will not impose on Kurain Village, it's under the jurisdiction of the Fey family. You will stay here." She clenched her fist, daring the flippant operative to argue.
The Black Saint glanced at her knuckle duster, to the charts of head injuries on the wall and swore vehemently under his breath.
"I'm happy you understand."
Mirroring the sheer terror the raven haired Clavius failed to mask, Phoenix waited near the door. He was fine with no one, especially the vice-chief, noticing him.
"It's settled then," Leon concluded. "You'll take Clavius with you when the train leaves for Kurain."
A soda can hit the edge of the sink and burst, lemon flavored the air; the fizzy drink popped, showering the kitchen counter and tiles. A second, red can joined it, smashing against the tap, cola oozed. A third can hit the wall on top of the sink in a starburst of bright, light yellow fluid. It splashed on the gleaming pot and pans.
A fourth can hit the inside of the sink. Splash! A fifth can bounced on the tiles, the aluminum crumpled, dousing the clean kitchen towels with soda. He grabbed a frozen parcel, chicken from the looks of it, and hurled it at the sink.
The resounding crash of ice on metal prompted Goofy to cover his sensitive ears.
Fingers numb from cold, Vanitas pulled another ice covered hunk of meat and raised it in the air, he stopped when Goofy screwed his eyes shut and meekly returned it to the freezer. Grabbing the last can of soda and popping it; Vanitas slammed the fridge door shut and noisily slurped his drink.
"That was mildly therapeutic," he commented. A tang of different flavors perfused the air with citrus, cola and apple scents. "Wanna play videogames?" He offered his drink to Goofy who tilted his head curiously at it. "It tastes like limes and bubbles in your mouth," Vanitas explained. "Donald... the heck are you doing?"
Rooted in the middle of the studio apartment, the duck scanned both ends. "You two live in such a small space?" he questioned.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Flavored soda dripped in the sink, on the floor, from the counter and pans.
"Yeah, Sora's room is over there," Vanitas pointed to the opaque glass walls. "I sleep here," he gestured to the sofa-bed and wardrobe. "We hardly have anyone over so this suits us well enough." Grabbing the remote, he powered on the television and flicked through the channels.
Goofy braved a sip of the drink and instantly disliked it. Donald ducked under the table, squashing a stray heartless. "I'm surprised you don't want a bigger space to live in," he said.
Nothing entertaining played on the flatscreen and Vanitas browsed the game titles. "Despite the rent quadrupling in the last few years, this apartment was the only one we could afford as brats, with the money the old fart left behind. If we sold the stuff in here, we could make a decent sum of money." Everywhere the companions turned, the Organization XIII logo ogled them proudly. If not, some other high profile brand assumed their place. "We like it here, its home." Vanitas inserted the Mario Kart disc and started a new game.
The losing streak against his brother flashed proudly on the previous title.
"What are you two standing around for? Are you hungry?" he leered, "I think I have a duck in my freezer." Donald scowled. "I'll make it for dinner," Vanitas mockingly continued, "in case Donald forgets to heal me the next time I'm bleeding from a hole in my stomach." Goofy joined him on the luxurious chaise lounge and picked a controller in his white gloved hands. "If I do roast duck for dinner; hey Donald, have you ever eaten duck?"
The mage resisted the urge to flay his charge. "Have you ever eaten a human?" he hissed. "Taken a bite out of your brother perhaps?" His feathers quivered indignantly.
"Tch, you have a point, what about chicken? Isn't it like eating your cousin... Goofy!" Vanitas yelled. "You're cheating! I wasn't paying attention!" He tossed a silk brocaded scatter cushion at the dog. The beret whizzed off. "I'll force feed hotdogs to you!" Vanitas threatened playfully.
"Ahyuck," Goofy grinned, "that doesn't sound nice."
Playing videogames with his anthropomorphic companions was equal part enjoyable and harassing. Goofy constantly veered off the track or slid on a banana peel, his extraordinary luck sent his cart smashing into Vanitas' when the latter least expected it. Glitter and confetti filled the screen in overly bright colors. Donald could not play very well and usually flattened several keys together. When the duck lost, an occurrence happening too often much to Vanitas' amusement, Donald angrily threw the controller at the screen.
"If you break my television, I'm plucking your feathers and using it to stuff my pillow," Vanitas warned and drained the last of his soda. "Heh, I win."
Donald grabbed the controller, glanced at Vanitas and hurled it at the carpet.
Gold
Evening
Train station
He stared at her, face eerily blank. Sora reclined in a wheel chair, a blanket over his legs. He missed his ever present scarf and treated everyone on the platform to a generous view of his scarred chest and the deep, crow black veins pulsing in his throat.
The small train to Kurain arrived. People wisely stayed out of the young man's way when he turned to them, eyes a bewitching gold.
Tugging her glove, Trucy smiled shakily at Sora. He tried a grin, failed half way and pressed a palm to his mouth. Normally, she helped him, but the sheer abhorrence he radiated, shocked her. She wanted to hold his hand and rub soothing circles on his back; however, her feet froze on the platform and stayed there. Polly too, warily kept his distance as her Daddy maneuvered the wheelchair.
Sora frightened her. The alluring color of his eyes made her sick and she protectively grabbed Apollo's arm. She hoped Sora would recover and return to his nervous, predictable self. Trucy looked forward to spending another lazy day making sweets with Kairi and Sora. His sweets were misshapen, but they tasted good.
Her chest fluttered like a bunch of trapped butterflies slamming against the bony cage of her ribs when Sora, safe behind a glass window, raised his arm to wave.
Black fluid crusted his fingers, the tips a sinful scarlet.
A/N: It'd be so easy to travel from one world to the other if Sora could use dark corridors instead of that Gummi ship. But then again, were would be the fun in that?
Please read and review. Questions and theories are always welcome!