Life is finite
Every time Isa entered the infirmary, the turquoise walls assaulted his senses. The glint of gold in his irises intensified and he stalked past Ariel attending to a groaning operative. Acknowledging her with a polite nod, he entered the screened section of the clinic.
Electrical beeping greeted him. The stitches on Axel's chest from the heart replacement surgery, healed a long time ago. Isa drew a seat close to the bed and slumped, forehead drooping in his hands.
He recalled the night he turned up at the KBWA, dragging a bloodied Axel along. Fortunately, the first person he came across happened to be the vice-chief and while Saix ebbed out of his berserk state, she bundled both of them to the infirmary. Isa thrashed, cracking two iron bedsteads before they bolted him down. Axel went into the emergency ward and a group of high profile healers rushed to stabilize him.
How many years did he pretend to be part of Organization XIII? He secretly began to enjoy the missions, savoring the despair clouding Roxas' face while the latter desperately tried to break free from the Wind Mage's matrix.
A blow to Roxas' ribs flung him against the side of the building, stopping him from finishing the King. Isa stopped laughing at the sheer emotion in Axel's eyes.
"You killed them," a voice croaked. "Why didn't you kill me too?"
Isa froze. "Because you are real," he whispered, hands clenched to stop them from shaking. "And they... they are not. No matter how much you tell yourself... no matter how much you wished."
Shifting on the bed, a low moan of pain. "Why... Saix?" the raspy voice enquired again.
On the bed, Axel slowly pulled the electrodes and tubes hooking him to advanced life-support. Isa watched, blinking rapidly and not quite believing his eyes. His mouth formed a confused oval.
"What, you weren't expecting me to recover?" Axel snarked, venom dripping from his words. "Failed to finish me off did you?"
A lead ball lodged in the pit of Isa's stomach. The chamber tossed. Bile rose at the back of his throat. A maelstrom of regret, sadness and the memories he buried deeply reared its many heads through the surface.
"Traitor," Axel wheezed.
Traitor.
Words failing him, Isa glued his gaze to the floor. The smell of pine disinfectant tickled his nose and the bedstead squeaked. A flash of flame orange light seared his eyeballs and he slowly raised his head, brain short-circuiting.
"Although," Axel reluctantly admitted, "I'd be dead if this thing popped up while I was in the Organization." A tear leaked from his eye, drawing a slow track down his cheek, tattooed with a teardrop. "You had yours all along didn't you?" He pulled the hospital gown away from the crisscross of stitches across his heart. "Organization XIII doesn't have any scope for traitors," another tear dripped off the end of his chin, landing on his knuckle, wrapped around the hilt of an intricate Keyblade, "or emotions. I can feel again."
Axel hiccupped. His chest burned. All those pretend emotions, the echo of pain when he witnessed the moment of Xion's death, scorched this throat. In the warehouse when he fought Saix, drunk on the power of the moon, the barest hint of rage simmered inside him. But now those tides of emotion surged, washing over him. Drowning him. How could anyone live with so much pain inside them?
How could Isa pretend Organization XIII was his home?
Operatives crowded before the psycho analysis chamber and twittered in hushed excitement. Pushing through them, Vanitas barked at the people to make way for the Black Saint. Misaki meekly followed him and the crowd congealed back into a shapeless mass behind them.
You won't believe this Vanitas rapidly texted, vibrating with excitement.
Axel is awake! He fired off messages to his brother.
And he's a Keyblade wielder!
He knocked on the screen door and the excited gaggle shoved Shiki against him. The girl adjusted her glasses and vainly pushed in the opposite direction. In front of her, Vanitas turned and she caught a whiff of leather and perfume. Mercifully, the vice-chief opened the door and beckoned them inside.
Machines hummed in the otherwise quiet room. Shiki squeezed into a corner and Vanitas brashly stalked closer, scowling when Tifa put out a hand to stop him.
"Please don't interrupt," she smiled cordially and he quailed. "An external influence might alter the results of his analysis. Normally, no one is allowed in here, but we had to confirm the results with our own eyes."
Leaning with his shoulder against the opposite wall, Isa visibly relaxed when a spark of flame ignited in Axel's palm and the shaft of a vibrant Keyblade emerged. The Black Saint's jaw dropped in surprise, he crawled closer for a thorough inspection.
"You are smiling," Tifa said and Isa apathetically twisted his face away. "I'm not sure about the detailed results, but I don't think Axel hates you." Her wine-red irises mellowed. "He's awake and here now," she stood beside him, "you should make the most of your time with him."
Glossy charts tacked against the pastel orange walls indicated complimentary magic systems. Light and Darkness rested on opposite sides and Vanitas studied the diagram a little longer before snorting. The Grey Knight, and his majesty King Mickey used the elements of light and darkness seamlessly. Himself and Sora never had any problems, sure, light magic dealt extra injury, but nothing Vanitas could take care of.
He paced, acutely aware of the vice-chief and Isa's irises following like twin pendulums. Uncomfortable by the attention, he retreated into a corner when the screen beeped.
The vice-chief noted the scrolling text on a tablet.
With a hiss, the dome shaped machine receded from Axel's head. He grinned wanly, nothing like the suave smiles he dished out on posters and modeling events, and attempted to ease out of the padded, leather chair.
Legs buckling under him, Axel collapsed into a heap on the floor, his entire body quivering.
"Ahahaha..." he chuckled ruefully. " My legs, I can't... I can't seem to walk."
Instead of helping him, Saix petrified, hands crossed defensively over his chest. Smoothing the beginnings of an involuntarily scowl, Vanitas hooked the model's arm over his shoulder. "Are you gonna stand there like some office decoration or will you get me a wheelchair?" he snarled at Isa. "Damn, I didn't think you'd be this heavy," he added to Axel. "Aren't models on the skinnier side?" Vanitas helped Axel back to the seat. "Can I get your autograph?" he burst out and Shiki eagerly agreed. "You need a mentor," buzzing with excitement, Vanitas barreled on, barely pausing for breath, "hey Axel, how about-"
"Lea," the tall man interjected and on his way out of the psycho chamber, Saix stiffened. "My name is... Lea," he grinned helplessly and raised a finger to his temple, "got it memorized?"
Saix stiffly marched out, into the fevered, low chanting of fans clogging the door.
"I'll teach you everything you need about Keyblade wielding basics." Vanitas proudly puffed his chest and the smile on Lea's face dipped a fraction as he realized the Black Saint wore a jacket he designed. "I mentor my brother-"
"I didn't realize you were in a position to make such arbitrary decisions, chief Clavius." Tifa punched her fist into a palm. "Squall will meet with you shortly." She wheeled the wheelchair next to Axel, lifted him up and set him down again. "Are you comfortable enough?" The vice-chief tucked a fleecy blanket over his lap. "Don't worry about Leon," she soothed when Lea's eyes widened in terrified astonishment, "he's an understanding boss."
I don't think he's worried about Leon.
He's worried about your steel fists. Vanitas tailed the vice-chief, marveling at the way she parted the crowd by smiling at them.
A shock of silver hair bobbed at the edge and smirking, Vanitas snagged Riku's arm before the latter spun to leave. "Heh, I didn't expect you to be here," Vanitas taunted. "You aren't going to start working with him are you?" he questioned. Riku couldn't handle mentoring both Sora and Lea could he? The gathering in the gym dispersed, now distracted by Hercules issuing training exercises to the trio of rookies. "Hey, I'm asking you a question!"
"So aggressive," Riku muttered. "Before wielding a Keyblade, he needs to go through strengthening exercises." He indicated the disappearing wheelchair with jerk of his chin. "Also, there are compatibility issues." Nox murmured to himself, eyebrows drawn together and Vanitas jabbed him. "...Right, I'm sure Leon will make allowances for you," he blandly stated. "He gives you special treatment after all."
Vanitas recalled how the chief carried him out of the Special Assignment chamber. How Squall tiredly put up with his demands.
"All Keybladers are treated specially," Vanitas retorted and lazily waved to Yuffie, bouncing off a treadmill. "The chief is probably good to me because I'm Sora's brother." He hoped not. "And the King treats you like some sort of delicate fairy." Vanitas crowed and punched Riku in the shoulder. Behind them, Yuffie launched herself at Isa and the cyan haired man hissed at her frantically. "Does that chick not have any fear?" Vanitas rhetorically asked.
They stood there, amused while Isa pulled Yuffie off him. The petite girl's attention locked on Riku and blanching, he uttered a quick farewell and weaseled out of the gym. Having nothing better to do, she threaded her arm through Vanitas' and pulled him around, shouting cheerful encouragement to the trainees sweating on the treadmills and pumping iron.
The sandy haired brat showed promise, Vanitas lingered while the boy ran determinedly. Yuffie tugged him. "I'm surprised Isa didn't swat you to the opposite end of the gym like a fly." Exiting the gym, Vanitas bought a sports drink from a vending machine in the corridor. "He's moody and unpredictable."
"Isa won't hurt me," Yuffie confidently declared and checked her schedule, her small face crumpling in disappointment. "I helped save him," she explained. "I gotta go." She leapt down the corridor, ricocheting off the walls like an acrobat and several members stopped to admire her. "I have a stealth mission to lead." Her voice faded in the hallway.
Drowning the sports drink, Vanitas chucked the empty bottle in the bin. She helped save Isa?
Did Isa even need saving?
11:35 a.m.
Wright and Co. Law agency
Sora's office
Legal documents and leather bound files crammed the edge of the smart desk. Tapping a folder shut, Sora wheeled to the chrome and wood bookshelf behind him, extracted an old case file and typed the case details on his table. His phone, charging in a wireless station, lit up with a string of messages and he checked them.
His brother sounded in good spirits.
According to Leon, Keyblade wielders were special. So what did it mean when an entire bunch of them congregated in one place?
His worries retreated to the back of his mind at the looming stack of papers. No matter how much Sora worked, papers always found a way to his desk. Obsolete cases the prosecution wanted to revise. Cold cases opened with new complaints. Sora sorted through the overwhelming requests directed to the Wright and Co. Law agency and made sure no guilty clients made it through the cracks.
Pulling his muffler loose, he draped it across a chair. This morning, he brought a dozen of his favorite scarves and stuffed them in the wardrobe. Tomorrow, Sora chewed the end of his pen, he will bring a few jackets, the world outside his window grew grey and windy.
Winter gripped the city in its icy claws.
The rhythmic tick of an analogue clock and the low purr of the table lulled him into hyperfocus. Sora worked through a stack of papers, rebelliously wondering if Mr. Wright dumped all the unwanted work on him, maybe I should go a strike, senior Apollo will support me. Playfully flicking the animated avatar stomping its boot for attention, Sora straightened from his work, hand frantically reaching for the non-existent scarf around his neck.
"Sorry," Trucy tugged her glove, "I knocked before I came in, but I don't think you noticed." She set a steaming cup of tea and plate of fancy cakes cut into diamond shapes on the coffee table. "I made these last night with a recipe from Kairi," she chirped. "Try it."
Forcefully resting his free hand on the table, Sora munched on a cake. It tasted of melting chocolate, but he failed to enjoy it through the nervous stew bubbling in his stomach. Will she mind if I put my scarf around my neck? "It's really good." He swallowed. "I uh... can I get another one?" he mumbled.
She pulled the scarf from behind him and with a practiced flourish, threaded it around his collar. "Here you go," Trucy placed the floral plate in front of him and relaxing, Sora crammed the cakes in his mouth. "You must really like your place." She slowly toured the office, pausing by the glittering bust of the Keyblade. "Daddy wanted to surprise you, so he got the contractors to hurry it up when you were on leave." A collection of ultra-luxurious pens lined the delicate pen case, a gift from her Daddy. "Do you need help with work?" Trucy gestured to the groaning piles.
"I'm getting extra work for all the slacking off I did," Sora blatantly added. "This place feels like home," he squeaked, slightly embarrassed and scribbled thoughtlessly on a piece of paper. "I hope I don't ever lose my job here," he seriously said. "I want to work till-" he broke off.
"Polly is the next boss?" Trucy teased, mouth curving into a grin. "Or do you want to take over the company when Daddy's too old?"
"I never... of course not!" Sora rubbed the back of his head. "I'm not suited for leading."
The ottomans smelled faintly of leather and Sora texted replies to his over-eager brother. Vanitas snapped photos of himself every five seconds, documenting his historic meeting with legendary, Organization XIII model, now turned operative, Axel. He showed the photos to Trucy and a momentary gleam of fear passed her lapis lazuli irises before she brightened.
"Why don't you show him the cake?" she suggested and Sora grinned sadistically. He photographed the single slice, moving around to get the best angle and lighting.
"He's gonna explode," he snickered. "Do you have leftovers? You know he'll storm in here if he doesn't get his share."
Apollo poked his head in the office and nodded before retreating, a folder tucked under his arm. "What did he say?" Trucy asked and bent over Sora's phone. "Ooh, he's mad." The message showed a bunch of orange-red, angry emoticons. "I have plenty of leftovers, don't worry."
Fifteen minutes later, Athena entered the office and complained of the bare walls. "You need art," she announced, and listed a few galleries. "I'll take you to my favorite place one day. They sell really beautiful pieces." She tapped the smart table, face lit by the digital blue glow. "You can sync a Bluetooth speaker with this," Cykes suggested, "and listen to music, I can lend you my vintage records."
She left after lecturing Sora about the psychology of color, bopping excitedly to the music streaming from her Level 9 headphones and all became quiet.
Afternoon set in and sunshine splayed in odd shapes on the checkered carpet. Working tirelessly, Sora stretched and twisted in his seat, despairing at the amount of work still left to cover. The smart table bade him a quiet goodbye and he rested his cheek on the glossy surface, watching Trucy work.
A lock of chestnut brown hair curled over her forehead and she closed a file with a satisfied sigh. "I think this is enough for today," she pouted. "You should really go on strike." Trucy twirled her fringe and peered out of the window. "Daddy is overworking you."
In response, Sora grinned tepidly, enjoying the companionable silence.
Trucy turned away and dropped her chin into a white gloved palm. "Sora... I really like you," she said and he blinked. "Hmm," she mused, a marked blush rising in her cheeks, "it's more of a I love you."
Eh? Huh? Me?
His face reddened like someone poured hot water on it and panicking, he glanced at the door praying Mr. Wright or senior Apollo stay far, far away.
What about Vanitas?
"I won't pretend I never noticed Vanitas' feelings," she went on quietly. Sora struggled to keep his mind from unraveling completely. "And I thought about it a lot," she twirled her fringe again, "but, whenever I think of someone special, you pop up." She rose from the ottoman. "I love you," she repeated.
Gaping, Sora tugged the muffler protectively over the lower part of his face. Crimson stained his cheeks and spread to his ears. Trucy slid the completed file towards him and skipped out of the office with a smile, leaving the faint whiff of vanilla behind.
Dear God, he inwardly moaned and dropped his head on the smart table with an audible thud.
Why couldn't you make me normal?
The wheels of the wheelchair creaked over the floor. Uniform walls in tints of beige and slate blurred past.
They finally stopped at another large room inside the cavernous complex and Vanitas explained, "This is the training chamber proper." He pressed a series of codes on a panel next to the chamber and the door folded apart. "Normally, the chief, vice-chief and a High-tier member will initiate an evaluation sequence to determine your strengths, weaknesses and further level of training." The door to the inner chamber closed. "Since you are indisposed at the moment," he tactfully said, "I'll walk you through some light exercises."
He pulled Lea a few meters away from the door. Overhead, a tube light brightened, bathing the stark surroundings with a harsh glow. Axel shakily got to his feet, one hand gripping the back of the chair for support.
"Ideally the gym would be the perfect place," Vanitas pointed out, "but fans would stomp you over." Lea swung his right arm around and switched, copying his trainer. "You've been unconscious for a long time, it makes sense why you'd be weak."
The Black Saint.
Lea clenched his teeth and bent over, his hamstrings screamed murder. The training complex whirled. Sweat drenched the roots of his hair.
Superior kept a close eye on the Black Saint. Organization XIII members were ordered to give the dark Keyblade wielder a wide berth. A glittering black halo floated above his peaks of raven hair when he summoned his weapon and Lea privately thought there must be something decidedly wrong about him.
However...
"You're nothing like what I imagined you to be," he confessed and toppled into the wheelchair, out of breath. "Our boss, I mean Xemnas, took a special interest in you."
The young man sniffed disgustedly. "I'll let him kiss Void Gear instead of my face and blow his head off while I'm at it." He dissolved into angry muttering. "How are you feeling now?" Vanitas abruptly questioned. "If you're tired, we'll resume tomorrow. I'll take you to the Accommodation floor, there should be a room for you."
Tottering back on his feet, Axel interjected, "Can't be lying around and being useless forever." He shrugged. "Clavius, isn't it?" Vanitas' eyes lit up. "I had this impression you'd be some bloodthirsty, mutinous freak, because... let's face it, Organization XIII is comprised of them, but," Lea steadied himself, "you're a really gentle guy." He smiled. "I think I'll like it here."
The Black Saint glowed at the praise, his expression reminding Lea painfully of Roxas.
"I'm good... I'm good at taking care of people," Vanitas modestly stammered. "Though from next week, you'll have to log in at the gym. The dude there, Herc, will be your fitness trainer." The cogs in his brain whirred. "I can introduce you to my twin brother, Sora. He is the King."
More stretching. Vanitas corrected Lea's crooked stances and helped him balance. Frustration glittered clearly in the model's eyes at the end of the session. He flopped exhaustedly, sweat plastering the thin cotton shirt to his body. A cool bottle bumped against his knuckles and he drowned the mineral water and subsequent potion in long, thirsty gulps.
"Thanks," Lea mumbled. "I'm really out of touch today." He closed his eyes as the wheels moved under him.
The elevator dinged to a halt at basement floor 7.
Drawn out from his semi-sleep by the cacophony of noises reverberating on the floor, Axel gripped the armrests. Sounds of dining, the clinking of cutlery and porcelain, mingled with the thinly veined threats of a mock fight. Voices hummed, vibrant laughter and terse whispers and when the wheelchair rounded the bend, the stark white walls of the gigantic block of cube-rooms offered momentary glimpse of personal life.
A double bed with crumpled sheets, clothes littering the geometric patterned rug on the floor. An array of mobiles and intricate dream-catchers suspended from the ceiling of another room. Vanitas wheeled Lea across the strip of tiled flooring and growled at people to give them space. The front glass of a nearby chamber turned clear and a thousand gears spilled over the bed within, clanking to the floor.
"He's staying with me," Isa intoned when the duo reached the end of the block. "The vice-chief arranged it," he added when Clavius kept a firm grip on the handlebars. A small mob gathered, wary of Saix's eyes suddenly pulsing gold. "I live in a small apartment in the upper suburbs of Los Angeles." Isa smoothed his dark grey jeans. "It will be better for Lea if he gets some quiet time to recuperate."
Reluctantly handing his hard earned trainee to the brooding member, Vanitas sympathetically observed their stiff interaction. Axel chattered, his mien dull and Isa listened, grunting in agreement or replying in monosyllabic words.
A team of operatives tiptoed respectfully around Vanitas. Several of the younger ones turned and snapped discreet pictures. Whipping out his KBWA issued flip phone and vowing for the umpteenth time to get himself a new one, Vanitas' smirked triumphantly.
He will brag Sora's ear off with his achievements.
Love
Late night
Bedroom
"I love you."
The confession rung like an incessant bell in Sora's head. He forced his distraction down long enough to listen to Vanitas tweeting like a sparrow over dinner. His brother gushed about Axel, not caring about his losing streak as he continued crowing while they gamed.
With nothing but the darkness and the comforter pressing snugly against him, the words murmured in his head again. It wasn't the first time he heard a confession; but for some reason, he could not stop thinking about it.
His chest hurt, he threw off the blanket and let winter seep into his skin, raising goosebumps. He felt the cold, sharp and raking. His breath billowed in the air. Sora's heart fluttered like a trapped bird slamming against the bars of its gilded cage. The feeling clawed into his throat and hardened into bitterness.
What about Vanitas?
He choked on the ball of emotions. Lumbering out of the bedroom, he went to the kitchen. The carpet brushed against his feet and he drowned a glass of water. Sound seeped from the television, a stray beam of silver moonlight splayed on his brother, curled over a giant, dragon plushie.
Back in bed, Sora burrowed under covers, turning the confession over in his mind.
And like the love letters he covetously kept in a box, the words pressed like an aching wound across his ribs.
A/N: Lea's awake! And he's a Keyblade wielder! No surprises there. The latest game I played was Birth By Sleep; so I have little idea of what's happening in DDD and KH3. I'll keep it that way till I actually get to play those games.
Please read and review, help Sora get over his heartbreak.