A/N: OK, guys, here's your Xmas present, lol! I was hoping to update much sooner than this, but I'm glad I took the time to let this marinate. Xaldin/Dilan's one of those characters I feel like got an unfair shake in canon. The interesting hair, the cool eyes, the menacing-looking figure...This guy had potential! It's a shame he got sidelined in the games and is basically the idiot comic relief in the manga (which never made much sense to me). I had a pretty fun time trying to flesh him out.

For the song, yeah, going a bit obvious here...but hey, you can never go wrong with Cat Stevens. This probably won't be the last time I get punny with the old Org. members' elements and song lyrics either, fair warning. :P

"I listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul

Where I'll end up, well, I think only God really knows"

-"The Wind", Cat Stevens

Chapter 4: Dilan

Shortly after Braig's departure, Ansem had given the guards the option to leave early. After all, if there had been any situation today that required immediate intervention, it would have come from the one-eyed sharpshooter. Given how relatively tame Braig had behaved, the danger had passed. Rather drained from the emotionally charged conversation, Dilan leapt at this dismissal with no small measure of gratitude. He had much to think about, almost too many thoughts to compartmentalize.

"Suppose he was lying to us again," he mused aloud to Aeleus on their way out. "There could be a chance he's going to move his operation over to his home world, and we would be none the wiser."

Always a succinct man, Aeleus said, "Then, he's their problem."

"That we unloosed on them! Think of the damage he's done, that he could do again. He's proven repeatedly that, out of all of us, he's the easiest to corrupt. And all you did was punch him? I'd have given him the thrashing of his life! Kingdom Hearts knows there isn't a more deserving candidate." Dilan compounded his venting with a frustrated shake of his head.

"You doubt him?"

"Of bloody course I doubt him! I…" He paused, recollecting those earlier moments where Braig had appeared near-broken from exhaustion. "Or maybe I don't, I don't know. His history…"

"His history shows that he was taking more into account than we thought," Aeleus pointed out. "He lived a peaceful, happy life that was stolen away from him. And, while he might not have gone about things in an ideal fashion, he was prepared to do anything to restore it."

"Yes, anything. That's the problem."

Dilan then fell silent as the two men mounted the last set of steps from the basement to the main hall. He balled his hands into fists, attempting to rein in his tumultuous feelings. There was no way he would allow himself to be fooled again. At the same time, he refused to consider the idea that Braig's kindness toward him had been one elaborate con job. Snippets of their good times rushed back to him, urging him to not meet Aeleus' inquisitive eyes. If he was naïve enough to believe it now, he supposed he'd been the closest Braig had to a best friend. They'd simply palled around in the day-to-day, swapping funny childhood stories, teasing Even (who quite detested it, as neurotic as he was), and often going to the bar. During one of those outings, he remembered how they had both shot well past their limits and had to lean on each other as they staggered back to the castle.

With one of his gravelly chuckles, Braig had remarked, "Wow, I haven't been this plastered since my propo—"

He stopped himself then, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. "Heh, never mind…"

Then, the following day on patrol, he'd asked, "Did I say anything stupid last night?"

To save him the trouble of reliving his distress, Dilan had joked, "No more than usual."

"Heeey, nothing said you had to get smart about it!"

At the time, it had been something to laugh off as well as to blame on their shared beer-induced fog. Dilan had assumed that he'd dreamed up that moment. It had been uncanny to see his friend so unnerved, almost vulnerable. But, now that Braig had told them his history, he had to wonder…

Had he accidentally referred to his fiancée? If so, then there had to be a grain of truth to that whole complicated story. It would make Braig look sympathetic…and honest.

He and Aeleus approached the end of the hall, with the latter commenting, "You've been very quiet, Dilan. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes, fine," he sighed, irritated, before admitting, "It's just…I want to believe him, Ael, more than anything. You see how I tried consoling the wanker earlier. But, we've been led astray by him too many times to count."

Aeleus nodded. "True. However, as foolish as you may think it is, I do have reason to believe he's sincere this time."

"I hope you're right."

Once they pushed past the entrance doors, they went their separate ways, Aeleus to the north end of town and Dilan heading two blocks over. In the past, he'd had no qualms staying overnight in Ansem's castle. However, post-restoration, he found himself ill at ease with being there when the sun went down. Certain memories and sensations could not be extrapolated from the now peaceful castle, at least not yet. And to his great shame, he would avert his gaze away from Even, who had been cold and ruthless as Vexen. It was true that when he was Xaldin, he had been capable of just as much, if not more, cruelty. Still, it was one thing to know this within oneself but quite another to actively witness it in a friend. He knew it wasn't fair to Even or the others (maybe excluding Braig) to view them in this light.

All too much, he thought. It'll feel good to be home early for once.

Indeed it was. As he stepped through the threshold of his house, his gray cat Theo immediately sped toward him and rubbed against his legs. With a smile, Dilan knelt down to scratch him behind the ears.

"Miss me, did you?" he asked, appreciating one of the few living beings he could full-heartedly trust. "I know, I can't believe I'm home so soon either!"

Theo meowed his contentment before sauntering back to his favorite place on the front window sill. There, he stretched out to sun himself.

Meanwhile, he padded over to his room to change out of his uniform, which was beginning to feel quite stuffy. He picked out a sleeveless navy blue shirt and an old but reliable pair of blue jeans. He removed his socks as well as his boots, opting for a more casual look. After all, he had no plans to leave the house any more today, especially not when he had some business to attend to.

In that spirit, he headed straight to his oak writing desk in the corner of the living room. A fresh piece of parchment paper lay on top, ready to be drafted. Dilan hoped he could write out a decent one this time, considering how many discarded ones he'd already gone through. The halfway full wastebasket told the story of how well his efforts had fared so far. He supposed he could have made the task much easier on himself if he used a pencil or even his laptop instead. But, no, he had to make it look like he'd exerted some genuine effort on this letter. It had to look authentic, but most importantly, it had to be from the heart.

So, fountain ink pen it was, given his lack of a proper feather quill. He took it out of his jar of writing utensils and started a new draft:

Your Royal Highnesses,

I have a matter of utmost importance to convey to you. My name is Dilan, member of Radiant Garden's royal guard on behalf of HRM King Ansem the Wise. This may be hard news to bear. I do not mean to infringe on your likely busy time, but I was I went by a different name once. I caused you undue pain and suffering as this individual when I was this person. I was Xaldin.

Dissatisfied with the increasing number of strikethroughs, Dilan muttered, "Rubbish," before crumpling up this draft as well. And here he had hoped this one would read better than all the others. There was probably the notion to consider that for the Beast (Prince Adam now, he'd heard) and Belle, ignorance was bliss. They didn't need to know of his existence or the thoroughly terrible "person" he'd been, keenly reminding them of what he'd put them through. Didn't he know that, above all else, the world order had to be maintained? Then again…

To hell with the "world order", I need to redress this. They have to know Xaldin will never come back again.

Determined, he removed another sheet of parchment paper from the drawer, slapped it down on top of the desk, and tried again.

Your Royal Highnesses,

I am a humble guard these days to almost anyone,

No, no good, it would look vain of him to lay out his life story, even in this small way. This paper too was quickly disposed of. No matter, he would carry on with another blank sheet.

Your Royal Highnesses,

I understand you have many matters of state to attend to, so I will be brief. My name is Dilan, a member of Radiant Garden's royal guard now, as I've almost always been. However, you may have known me under a different name, one that struck fear into you one that was horrid in nature. Xaldin, right, I was.

With a growl of frustration, loud enough to make Theo voice his protest, Dilan all but tore up this draft. Now, he felt as though he wasn't even trying any more. Once the royal couple did receive an actual salvageable draft, they wouldn't have the jurisdiction to exact punishment on him. And, unless their world was in possession of a gummi ship fleet, they wouldn't be able to reprimand him in person. All the more reason to write a perfect letter. He wanted more than anything to show them how sorry he was, how—if circumstances had been different—he would have never thought to hurt them. Regardless, damage had been inflicted. Xaldin had been a despicable creature incapable of remorse and revealed himself to be a master of psychological torture.

Yet, how much of Xaldin had been a separate entity and how much had he been a manifestation of his dark side? A side he never knew went this far?

Dilan rubbed at his forehead, sighing wearily. It was obvious that he wasn't in the right frame of mind to write this yet. Perhaps some green tea would help. He pushed back his chair once he made this decision and went to get out the kettle. There were many thoughts roiling in his mind, and he hoped this simple act could center him.

Maybe not the best idea to get to writing so soon after Braig's whole spiel, he thought with another sigh.

Yes, Braig's story had been a lot to digest. He had also asked so much of his audience in terms of his credibility. Dilan knew he had no reason to doubt yet every reason at the same time. All he knew from his time with his friend was that he'd been fun to hang out with until he suddenly wasn't. He traced back to when that had happened. It had been a subtle change in Braig, who always had a knack for pretending nothing was wrong. When he'd returned to them one day with his lost eye and bleeding face, he'd had the audacity to laugh this off. He then told them that a pack of Unversed had attacked him, catching him completely unawares.

"Dropped my guns at the wrong time. Go figure. Just keep the mirrors away from me," he'd joked, though there was an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone.

Even though he still remained casual and laid-back in spite of this incident, Dilan had sensed there was something hidden, something sinister. Whether Braig would ever admit to it or not, that day forever changed him as well as their dynamic. He could no longer joke or speak freely with him, for he had the uncomfortable notion that all that would be used against him.

Given their collective, more recent correspondence with Aqua and Terra, this was generally confirmed: Braig had indeed been a voluntary henchman of Xehanort's during that period of time. It was no huge leap to assume that the rest of them had been sold out due to his actions.

And yet, Dilan considered as he set the tea kettle on the stovetop, there was another tidbit that the others didn't know. They never needed to be involved, as it had been a matter between him and the man he'd once called friend. He remembered that encounter with renewed clarity, though it'd been just two months ago.

"Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey," he head a familiar voice drawl.

Still groggy, Dilan blinked his eyes open, annoyed at having his rest disturbed. That annoyance soon turned into an ice-cold shot of fear that coursed through his entire body. His vision sharp and clear, he saw Braig—or Xigbar, in this case—hanging upside down from the ceiling. His one eye shone as yellow as ever, and his lips were stretched in a triumphant grin that further warped his mottled scar. A nightmare made corporeal.

"Hey, Sideburns," he greeted with his old nickname for him. "How goes it? Have a nice nap?"

"Get. The. Hell. Out."

Xigbar waved a mocking scolding finger at him. "Is that any way to treat an old friend? I thought we'd all gotten along in our demented little family. I kinda miss those days, don't you?"

With a graceful backflip, he descended to the floor, his boots barely making a sound when they met the marble surface. No surprise that he could pull this feat off. A highly skilled assassin like him was well-aware that stealth was key. In the meantime, Dilan glanced around the room in search for his lance. Biting back a curse, he recalled it was stored in the armory. His transition back to a Somebody had been so taxing that Aeleus had advised him to go upstairs and rest in his old guest room. He wouldn't have thought to take a weapon up with him.

However, there was still the night stand to consider…

Meanwhile, Xigbar shrugged at Dilan's silence. "Well, I get nostalgic for them anyway. I got a proposition for you."

"Oh, really? What sort? Knowing you, it would probably benefit you more than it would me," Dilan said more conversationally, stalling, while reaching for the drawer behind him.

"Ouch. Major ouch. If I hadn't gotten rid of my heart again so soon, I'd be hurting." Xigbar smirked.

The drawer was just barely open, leaving enough space to scrounge around with his hand. He could feel the smooth, cool metal of a pistol. Just as he thought. His lingering paranoia in the experiment days would serve him well.

In one fluid motion, Dilan aimed the pistol right at his former comrade. "Now, don't come any closer."

Unimpressed, Xigbar feigned a yawn. "Sideburns, don't be an idiot. You know I can outshoot you if I really wanted to. And I really don't. 'Sides, I've been instructed not to kill you."

"By whom? Xemnas?" He made no move to lower his arm.

"Never you mind about that. Aren't you going to at least listen to what I have to say?"

"Why should I?" Dilan hissed though lowered the weapon a couple inches. "I don't think we have much that bears discussing."

"Oh, but we do," Xigbar sneered, putting his foot up on the bed's baseboard. "I'm not saying you should listen to me because you like me. I'm saying I'm the only thing standing between you and the others downstairs. Now, if you stop pointing that at me and not make a scene, there shouldn't be any more drama. I'd hate to leave a big mess behind when I go."

"Damn it." Dilan put the pistol back in the drawer.

The other man gave him another wicked, manic grin. "Good. Now that we got that out of the way, here's what I'm offering. I think you're going to find real quick that having your heart back isn't what it's cut out to be. I mean, pain, anguish, guilt…" He made a face at this last one. "You're going to put yourself through the wringer. So, as I see it, you got one of two choices. Either stay human and miserable or join back with us. You don't wanna be on the losing side, do you?"

Narrowing his eyes, Dilan studied him, staying perched right by the bed, with his Arrowguns crossed on his knee. His grin was intact, as smug as always. He looked so sure that he would go through that hell again. He might not have had his heart back for very long, but he could remember vividly all that he did as Xaldin. How he'd twisted people's emotions, how he'd manipulated a young couple's love for one another. How he was tasked with doling out threats if the other Organization members wouldn't comply. That Nobody had been a warped version of him, and he never wanted to reacquaint himself with that side ever again. Only a few hours had passed, but he'd already come to that resounding conclusion.

However, instead of verbalizing his refusal right away, Dilan continued to humor him.

"Why me? Even is in a similar weakened state at the moment. You mean to tell me you didn't try recruiting him?"

Xigbar held back his head and laughed. "That kooky nerd? As if! Maybe if we wanted somebody to annoy us to death, we'd pick him in a heartbeat. Nah, I've been here once already and got a good one that time. Only thing is, he could still turn. That was a serious bromance he had back in the day…"

"Get to the point."

"Rude!" Xigbar put a hand to his chest, faking hurt offense. "Are you sure you're still not Xaldin? Look, we could use a guy like you out on the field. Tough, uncompromising, more than a little bloodthirsty—you'd be a great spare!"

"Out of the question. If all you're looking for is another servant to do your bidding, then I'm not interested. Speaking of…" He put a finger to his chin. "Isn't that what you are, at the end of the day? A servant doing his master's bidding?"

Visibly irritated, Xigbar clenched his jaw, his grin sliding. "Oh, you're daring today, Sideburns. You're practically bedridden right now, and you talk like that to me. Think about what I'm offering here. You can do whatever you want guilt-free, have more power, and—best part, in my humble opinion—you can take your revenge on the key brat. You're not getting a better deal than this."

"And I'm telling you I'm ready to reject all that. The only reason you're here is you need an extra pair of hands to fight in your idiotic war. You're even willing to use our old friendship to talk me into it. And why, I wonder? Are things getting a little lonely at the top, Braig?"

Now, Xigbar outright snarled, "Don't bother saying that name. I'm never going back to that again. Braig was a pathetic leech getting nowhere with his life. At least I have a purpo—"

"Braig was a decent friend," Dilan sighed. "And he would have never pulled this."

"How would you know?" he hissed back. "That version of me would have done anything to make a little chump change."

Dilan smiled sadly. "I don't know for sure. But, I like to think he cared about us in some way once. It's as you said—we were like a family, odd as we were. That's not something you toss away."

"I could right now, you know," Xigbar insisted, holding up both Arrowguns for emphasis, eye narrowing. "All I need is one shot. Orders weren't that strict. I'm sure my guys wouldn't care much."

"No, but mine will. Besides, I thought you didn't want to leave a mess."

"That was before—OK, you know what? Forget about it. Have fun with that broken heart of yours when we win."

Xigbar unceremoniously stepped back from the bed and turned to create a dark portal out of the room. However, there were a few things left that needed to be addressed.

"When you pare everything down to winning or losing, haven't you already lost?" Dilan asked. "I mean, honestly, what does that say about you and how you're living your life?"

Unable to resist a chance to talk back, Xigbar glared at him over his shoulder. "One, I'm technically non-existent, so I don't have a life. Two, spare me the philosophical crap, man. It's not relevant."

"But, if you weren't serving anyone, if it was just you out on your own…No schemes, no Keyblades, none of that…What would you want to live for?"

For a man boasting about his lack of emotions, Xigbar seemed to have many swirling in his eye when he looked at him more fully. Chief among these was rage, but there appeared to be others, too. He acted as though he hadn't been asked a question like this in some years. Dilan observed how he tightened his grip on his guns, almost on pure instinct. He leaned back on his pillows with a raised brow, awaiting an answer.

When Xigbar next spoke, his tone was surprisingly brittle. "This is all I got left."

No sarcasm, no jokes, and somehow, no lies, at least not what he could detect. That confession sounded all too raw to not be the truth.

"Only if you let it be that way, Braig."

"Again with the name! Quit it." He rolled his eye, starting to walk through the portal. "Whatever, I should have known this would be a waste of time. Just don't tell anyone about this, or I might have to kill you for real."

"He's still a part of you!" Dilan raised his voice over the whirring of the portal. "I know he is!"

He noticed a certain vulgar finger emerge from the closing portal and heard a sardonic chuckle. "Keep telling yourself that. Later, Sideburns."

So very much like him to have the last word. Dilan watched the black and purple spinning bits of matter dissipate into nothing. With a tired, forlorn sigh, he let himself lay back down and sleep off the fading adrenaline rush this stressful meeting had induced.

As soon as the water warmed to where it needed to be, Dilan removed the kettle from the stove. He'd set out a china teapot with a green dragon pattern and matching cup for when the tea finished steeping. Pouring the hot water into the pot, he then took out a few leaves from a small wooden box on the counter and placed them in the pot as well. As he did all this, he could not push that intrusive memory out of his mind.

Ever since that day, he'd been grappling with his unease over Xigbar's (or Braig's?) behavior then. The man had been as arrogant as expected, yet between sparing his life and the somewhat revealing words he'd said, his motivations were still difficult to pin down. To be sure, Braig, like Xigbar (if any difference could be ascertained between the two), had proven himself as a fine actor. However, there were certain traits that could not be fabricated and that world-weary sadness in his eye just earlier this afternoon…It had resembled the vaguer, cloudier look that only Dilan had seen during their encounter. That meant his story and everything he'd been through had to be true. Braig might never have admitted this, but he must have been lonely; Dilan's snide comment suggesting this had clearly set something off. Likely, these had been his memories that he had kept locked away, even as he tried getting his life back.

A light knocking on his door interrupted his contemplation. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, he saw it read four o'clock.

"Who would visit me this late in the day?" he asked himself, somewhat vexed. He wasn't dressed that well for guests.

With reluctance, Dilan answered the door…and saw Braig standing there. He seemed to carry none of the bravado so strongly associated with him as he scratched the back of his neck. He'd slung a knapsack over one shoulder, as though already set to leave. Yet, here he was, standing not quite so still on his doorstep.

Dilan found himself asking numbly, "Weren't you going to leave town?"

"Not til tomorrow. Thought I'd swing by here, see how you were doing." Braig shrugged, shifting from one foot to the other.

At that moment, he felt a warm surge of ire mixed with resentment. How dare this man show up so casually, as if they had anything of merit to discuss? As though everything could go back to normal because he'd finally decided to grow a conscience. No need to dwell on all the chaos and destroyed lives left in his wake. So perfectly convenient for him to rebuild a life somewhere else, where people only knew the Braig from before. He had the luxury of going home but not receiving any consequences from people whose implicit trust he'd still hold. Indeed, with his current position in life, he was probably at his freest, while the others were bound to the recurring ghosts of their pasts.

With more frost in his tone than he'd intended, Dilan said, "Now you've seen me. I am glad you spoke to the lot of us today, Braig, but you needn't do anything more beyond that. Best of luck to you. Safe travels."

You don't need to do this. Just let things be.

When he started to close the door, Braig lunged forward to hold it open. "Wait, wait, wait! Can I at least have my say before you do that?"

Breathing out some tension, he reluctantly let go. "All right. I'll give you two minutes. I suggest you make good use of them."

"I don't know what else you want me to say that I haven't already," Braig admitted. "I know I can't defend everything I did, and I can't take it back, no matter how much I want to. I really didn't intend to rope you guys into this, but then, that old coot wanted more information about our studies. Turned out he was looking for an army. And then this Organization stuff derailed all of us. That wasn't supposed to happen, I swear. I mean, do you really think I would stab myself?"

Dilan made a point to stare long at him.

"OK, I get why you think I'd be that crazy." Braig let out a desperate chuckle. "I thought this would be an ends justify the means kind of deal. Once I got his Keyblade, I could reset everything back to where it was, including you guys' lives. But…it hit me the hard way that I couldn't play those kinds of games. There was only so much I could control, especially since Xehanort had this whole other agenda going. I just went with it because I was already in too deep. I should have died rather than betray all of you, but I was too selfish." He shook his head. "I didn't want to die not knowing what happened to my people and whether or not there was anything I could do. And I know it's been over two minutes, but that's the gist anyway. I'm sorry, Dilan. I'll leave you alone."

As he turned his back to leave, Dilan touched his elbow. "Hold on. You mean to tell me the Organization was formed on accident?"

"Well, that all depends on what you mean by 'accident'. I was led to believe we'd be a shadow organization of regular people, but obviously, Xehanort had other plans. Sure as hell didn't let me know of that before stabbing me in the goddamn chest, amnesia or not. It wasn't enough that he let me lose my eye, nooo, he had to go and do that, too…Eh, it doesn't matter much now, does it?" Braig waved away his impending rant. "I was obviously ready to throw everything away, eager even. I didn't care as long as there was that pay-off. Nothing changes those facts."

"Maybe not," Dilan murmured, opening the door a little wider. "But, also nothing says we can't try to improve the rest of our lives either. Actually, why don't you come in? I just brewed a fresh pot of tea."

Braig stared at him as though he'd sprung two heads and a tail. "I'm…I'm more of a coffee guy myself."

"Your masculinity will not be threatened by drinking tea, I can assure you," he said dryly, even as he felt a smile tugging at his lips. "I just can't help but notice you have a lot to talk about. Might as well do that inside."

"Sure. Yeah, that's a great idea."

With that, he welcomed Braig into his home, something he hadn't done in so long that he'd almost forgotten their occasional lunch breaks here. Some major changes had taken place since those days. A saggy, faded brown couch (its appearance not helped by the chip crumbs his friend used to leave) had been discarded, white walls painted a gentle grasshopper green, and a few more decorative candles had been placed by the far window. Not so much the disheveled home of years past but a place much more lived-in and cared for. Signs that he had not taken his new-found life for granted.

In addition to these little touches was one curious cat that approached Braig, who dutifully knelt down and stroked his back. As Dilan went about pouring the tea in cups, he glimpsed the flicker of an amazed grin when Theo voiced his appreciation. And then, almost indifferently, the cat moved on to sniff at the visitor's boots.

"Surprised this guy didn't run away," Braig said with a laugh.

"Theo's always been a bold little fellow," Dilan pointed out, setting the still steaming cups down on the table. "I found him wandering on his own one day, so I'm sure he's seen everything at this point. I didn't think he'd be that put-off by you, loud as you tend to be."

"Heeey, you say that like it's a bad thing." He grinned nonetheless as he took a seat.

"You know, we used to say we could hear you long before we saw you. Stomping about, shouting since you had no concept of an indoor voice, laughing loudly…How'd I ever bloody put up with you?" Dilan smirked and sat opposite him, cradling his tea in his hands.

Braig hummed, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Cuz you needed some excitement in your life. Not just you, all of you."

"Yes, I suppose so. You were certainly a presence."

The two of them soon started reminiscing on those long ago days, back when heart studies were not so much at the forefronts of their minds. A much simpler time where their mistakes hadn't yet hung over them like a storm cloud. And, to Dilan's pleasant surprise, he found it effortless to exchange these old anecdotes with his friend. It was almost as though all these years hadn't passed or that Braig had never betrayed them. Perhaps this was the real man sitting across from him and not an actor or a spy finding any conversational nuggets he could use.

"Remember when you tried to entice Ienzo with cookies, but he wouldn't budge?" Dilan asked, taking one of the last remaining sips of tea.

"Oh yeah…He told me he didn't want them because he didn't want to eat all that glucose." Braig chuckled, fondly shaking his head. "I remember being that age and not knowing what glucose even was! Kid's always had a remarkable brain."

Dilan smiled back. "Indeed. Hard to believe the boy's almost twenty now."

"Shit, really? I guess that makes sense but…Wow, we're getting pretty old, huh?"

"At least we still have that privilege," he replied without any trace of cynicism.

For, if he didn't value every day (especially now that they weren't Nobodies), he didn't know where he'd be. Both he and Braig fell silent, pondering over what could have been accomplished in those lost years. Bringing up Ienzo created the additional ache of robbing the young man of his childhood. So much pain they'd caused everywhere but also quite close to home. Dilan felt thankful that he had this time to rectify his past wrongdoings. However, with Braig being the older of the two, he wondered if the other man felt his age then. He'd sobered considerably, swirling the remaining bits of tea leaf in his cup. It was the most pensive he'd seen him the whole visit.

"I really screwed up," he murmured then. "I ruined so many people's lives without thinking much about it. Without having a ton of guilt back then either."

"That's why you're here, isn't it? To seek forgiveness."

Braig nodded. "I got the feeling you were the one I had the most to prove to. The others seemed to accept me again—well, more or less. You, on the other hand…"

"You were right to doubt me. I've been conflicted," Dilan confessed. "I spent a long time being angry at you for everything you did. Angry at myself for not seeing the signs and intervening. And, I'm ashamed to say this, but I was highly skeptical of your latest story. For all I knew, that could have been another set of lies to placate us. But, I didn't want to be that cynical."

The worry must have shown all over his face, for Braig reached over and patted his shoulder. "That's totally fair, Sideburns. I'm still not sure about myself from time to time these days. I get why you were the hold-out."

"I shouldn't have been but…Thank you for understanding." He smiled faintly.

After a pause, Braig asked, "If I told you I did a lot of those things because of my fiancée, would you believe me?"

Dilan gave a one-shoulder shrug. "It would certainly check out with our research. You were engaged at one time, that's on record."

"So, you don't think I made her up?"

"No. It looked like it hurt you to even say the word 'fiancée'."

"Heh, you're observant. And it wasn't 'at one time' either. I never stopped being engaged." Braig smiled wryly before leaning down to retrieve his knapsack.

After some rummaging, he took out a mahogany leather-bound book (Dilan noted the title in faded gilt lettering along the spine: The Sky Pirates of Cirragia) that had some wear and tear around the corners. He then flipped through the pages until he found the one he wanted. Once he did, his face completely changed.

Dilan knew he'd spent more time with Braig than the others had, yet he'd never seen his friend like this. There was a soft, faraway glaze in his brown eye, and the planes of his face looked far less rigid. His usual razor-sharp smile was replaced by one much warmer and genuine. Whatever he gazed at in this book seemed to produce a magical effect on him, erasing almost a decade from his features. Dilan realized then that this was what real love looked like when laid bare, and it was something truly profound to see in his friend. The moment may have been only between him and this book, but the way he traced his finger along some image was so intimate that he nearly felt the need to leave the room.

Instead, he settled for clearing his throat. "Are you still here, Braig?"

Yanked out of whatever daydream he'd been lulled into, Braig blinked, startled. Upon seeing Dilan's amused smile, he laughed.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to space out on you like that. It's just…habit," he finished lamely before offering the book to Dilan. "Here. This is her."

He gingerly took it and studied the picture before him. The woman appeared to be in her early twenties here, dressed in elaborate pirate regalia. She stood in a confident pose, one foot resting on a settee while she held onto a nearby writing desk. Her broad-brimmed captain's hat sat at a jaunty angle on her head, her hair tumbling down in loose waves. To Dilan, it looked dark auburn—almost brown, he'd thought, if not for the rich red undertones. Her gray eyes were bold but gentle with a teasing light the artist managed to capture well.

And, in spite of the stately look of the portrait, he could detect a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. That expression reminded him of a similar one he'd once glimpsed in a painting hanging in the west wing of the Beast's castle. Just as mysterious and beguiling, as though daring the viewer to draw his own conclusions about her. She might have stood straight and proper with some attempt at solemnity, yet her personality shone through. It made him want to look further and find out what made her mind tick. No doubt she possessed a great amount of wit.

"She's very striking," he said with an appreciative nod. "I can see how you two would have been a couple. She looks like she'd have a wicked sense of humor."

"That's Val for you. Or was." Braig winced, the gleam in his eye somewhat dimming. "Always the life of the party. I mean, I could be too—don't get me wrong—but she just had something about her…More potent, I guess. She was a real force."

Dilan gave another acknowledging nod. "Your equal, then."

"Beyond, if I'm being honest."

He only hummed in response as he let his gaze drift over to the adjacent page containing a biographical passage about Valeria. He proceeded to skim through it.

Captain Valeria Gloria Bernadette Manigault, more famously known as "Val Fleetwind", was born in Remmery to Renard and Evette Manigault of minor nobility…

At seventeen, she fled from home and soon came under the tutelage of Frederica "Sly Fox Freddie" Thorne (see page 27), a legendary sky pirate in her own right…

Her largest boon came in the capture of the hostile ship, the Thieving Magpie. She and her compatriots retained over a quarter of the gold and silver bullion, with the remainder going to the captives held on that vessel as well as their families…

Manigault was engaged to Keln a few months later, the couple quickly becoming the toast of Silverhurst…

For the next two years, the crew of Manigault, Nisk, and Pressaro traveled extensively to such varied destinations as Neverland, Montressor, and Dalmasca. A popular legend posits the mysterious disappearance of Keln spurred a relentless search; such was Manigault's determination to find her lost love…

"Astounding…," Dilan found himself murmuring. "She was quite the woman, wasn't she?"

"You know that's my fiancée you're talking about," Braig teased, though with a smidgen of pride as well. "And yeah, she was. Her reputation preceded her, if that book's anything to go by. Except they left out a lot of good stuff, like how we met. Now, that was a great story. We held each other up."

Thankful that he'd finished his tea, avoiding the danger of swallowing wrong, Dilan asked, "You mean…with guns?"

Braig laughed. "Yeah! But, I had no intention of shooting her. Neither did she. She was just stubborn on making out with some of my valuables. We cut a deal where she would work for me for a month in exchange for me not blabbing to the authorities. But, really, I was never going to do that either." He leaned forward, staring down at the book. "I knew I wanted to know her then but not how much. Turned out she felt the same way. We were always drawn to each other like that. In fact, I might have fallen for her a little that night. I mean"—he pointed down at Valeria's picture—"it's not every day you see a woman like that standing on your windowsill."

Nodding with agreement and a small smile, Dilan thought over these words and the significance of such a deep, enduring love like Braig's. He recalled how he as Xaldin had broken the Beast down piece by piece, sequestered in his half-demolished room with that fragile rose. He'd disdained love, pointless except as a tool to manipulate people. It was a weakness, or so he'd labeled it. How could he have been so blind?

Now, he asked, "What did you love most about her?"

"OK, as corny as this is going to sound…Her spirit. She's—she'd—been through some things that she wasn't going to let stop her no matter what. And it just bled into everything else. Her humor. How she cared about people." Braig then let out a brittle laugh. "I haven't talked this much about her in ages. Well, there was that one time I almost spilled the beans to you about being engaged to her."

"You remember that?" Dilan let out an incredulous laugh himself. "I wasn't going to pry into that. I assumed you would tell me of your own volition, but you never did."

"It would have defeated the whole purpose of what I was trying to do. Any time it got too painful to think about Val, that's when I'd want to go out drinking with you. I wasn't really celebrating Fridays or weekends."

"Certainly not. You wanted to go out on a Wednesday night once."

"Ridiculous, right? And I didn't think I had mentioned the proposal at all back then. I was more focused on the killer hangover I'd had the next morning." Braig glanced out the window with a sigh. "Worst one I've ever had."

"You do realize the drinking was a temporary fix," Dilan said. "There was a good chance you could have forgotten about her after a few beers…but not entirely. Her memory was always going to follow you." He then reached across to give him a firm, comforting pat on the shoulder. "In any case, this explains why you tended to flirt with the redheads."

Braig rolled his eyes, his smile looking rather bleak. "You're trying to joke with me, and I commend you for it, Dil. But, you know, I never took a single woman back with me. I just knew I was going to accidentally call them 'Valeria' one of those times." His forehead creased in thought. "Might have done that while flirting, actually. Anyway, none of that was ever gonna be serious."

Taking a brief break from their conversation, Dilan grabbed their empty cups and rinsed them out over the sink.

"Your proposal must have been quite the event, if it involved that much drinking," he remarked as he scrubbed out a stubborn leaf remnant.

"Oh yeah, it was definitely something. One of the best nights of my life, for sure," Braig spoke much more softly, almost huskily from the memory. "Word spread fast, probably thanks to my friend Lukas…So, a lot of the townspeople got together and threw us this huge bash at our favorite tavern. There was so much wine and beer that night—whole place was practically overflowing. And there were so many toasts, Dil, you wouldn't believe. At first, they were general well-wishes, but I can tell you, they got sillier. I think we were toasting Val's ship at one point! Then, she and her friends got up to dance on the bar. She fell off after two songs." He snickered. "Not a problem for me, though, since I caught her. That was a different kind of drunk than later on, you know. Just this feel-good buzz all around. And that hangover was so worth it. So was the sex."

Turning around from his washing-up, Dilan feigned a long-suffering sigh. "And there it is. Always the sex with you."

"What can I say? It played a large role. Though I s'pose I wouldn't refer to it as just sex—it'd cheapen what we shared. It was always making love, at least for me."

While he appeared to drift off into another reverie, Dilan busied himself with dumping out the remaining lukewarm water in the teapot as well as the kettle and dwelled on his friend's words. He would never have suspected Braig of being capable of using terms like "making love" or other such tender phrases. And he could never have guessed the man with the eyepatch and jagged scar had ever experienced such a grand romance. Love so deep and powerful that it'd imprinted itself on his heart. It was a shocking revelation that he even had a figurative heart!

Evidently, there was still so much more to learn about Braig behind the smirk and casual demeanor. Perhaps that should have been the tip-off that he'd had his own set of secrets, too. Then again, he'd never let anyone get too close.

In quiet, measured tones, Dilan said, "You speak of Valeria as though you'd never been ripped away from her. As if all this happened months ago."

"Yeah, well…You don't get over a woman like her. I know, I've tried." When Braig looked up at him, he revealed a smile so frail that it didn't even reach his eye. "And believe me, I've traveled through time…Never found anyone close. Can't say I want to either."

After a brief pause, he added, "Being this ancient guy, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you don't take any part of life for granted. Love, friends, family, any of that. Once you do, it's all over. You wind up like me, trading one for the other instead of seeing how you can benefit from both. What I'm trying to say is I shouldn't have tried getting her back at the expense of throwing you guys away. That was just wrong."

Dilan gave him a wry yet reassuring smile. "You're damn right it was. Only took you eleven years to figure that out. But, you do have this fierce love for her. I can see why you were willing to go to such lengths."

Braig cocked his head to the side. "You ever love someone like that, Sideburns? If memory serves, you had this one pretty lady, but you never told me what happened."

"Oh, that." Dilan winced. "It didn't work out. I got too wrapped up with the work we were doing to carry on with her."

"Maybe you should try again with her, see where that leads you."

Now he's dispensing advice on my non-existent love life? What universe am I living in? he thought with a slight shake of his head. True, he appreciated the friendly suggestion, but he held no illusions about his time with his ex-girlfriend. As he saw it, that whole relationship had been misguided on his end. He shouldn't have leapt into it while in the midst of the project, out of some mere desire for intimacy. She'd wanted to go out more often, whereas he'd always been a homebody. To have persisted in staying together would have been to place her in a cage. He'd never put another woman through that again, or so he'd sworn to himself.

Aloud, he said, "I appreciate the advice, Braig, but trust me when I say I'm better off by myself. I'm not the easiest person to live with."

"Bullshit, you just weren't putting a ton of effort into it, that's all. Sounds to me like you were looking for a reason to get out. How long did it last anyway? Three months?"

Well, now he simply felt called-out.

He snorted. "I'm sorry, were you there? And, for your information, it was four months. We'd talked of moving in, but things fell through. That's just how life is sometimes."

Braig held up his hands in surrender. "OK, OK, chill out! I just figure you might not want to end up alone. I'm kinda concerned you won't get out enough and be the lonely cat guy for the rest of your life…Uh, no offense."

"Offense fully taken. I don't think Theo deserves to be slandered like that."

Leaning back in his chair again, Braig bit back a laugh. "You're right, he doesn't. I can imagine he's better than most people."

Dilan allowed himself a chuckle at this. "As a matter of fact, yes, he is. But, I see your point. Perhaps I'll bear that in mind in the future."

"Eh, I don't like 'perhaps'. 'Definitely' would be an improvement."

"All right. Definitely, then."

Glancing over at the wastebasket, he remembered his next objective: burning all his useless drafts. He dragged it over to the fireplace and picked up the book of matches on the mantelpiece. Just as he was about to light the logs, he was interrupted by Braig.

"What's all that?"

He turned toward his ever nosy friend, who'd tilted his head to one side while staring pointedly at the wastebasket with all its crumpled pieces of paper. He should have known he'd be questioned about this—in spite of his one eye, nothing seemed to get past Braig, as true now as it was back then.

Half-heartedly motioning toward the wastebasket, he explained, "Just some rubbish drafts of this letter I'm trying to write."

"To who?"

"Well…as silly as this may sound…it's going to be to Belle and the prince of that world. You might remember him as the Beast. I still recall all that I put them through when I was a Nobody, all that emotional torment. I know turning the Beast into a Heartless was meant to be a mere side mission…but there was another reason I kept coming back." Dilan then released a heavy sigh. "I wanted to break them. I wanted to see how their love could be torn apart, so I could prove that love itself was weakness. I'm not sure how much of that was Xaldin or me and my useless bitterness. Anyway, I wish to make amends to them. They need to know how sorry I am. It doesn't help that my return to normal life has been…an adjustment to say the least. I don't know how to face myself, let alone anyone el—what are you doing?"

For, Braig had gotten up and promptly snatched a scrap from the wastebasket.

"Gonna read what you've got, what do you think?" he replied with one of his cocky smirks.

"I told you, they're all rub—"

"Shhh!" He lifted a finger to silence him before plopping down on the couch to start reading.

Dilan could only look on helplessly, torn between gratitude and offense for this interference. Yet one more thing that remained the same with Braig: his insistence to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

On the other hand, maybe that annoying propensity for meddling could be put to good use. Dilan couldn't deny that he was in need of a second opinion. In a state of mounting anxiety, he watched Braig peruse this draft (apparently, one of his longer ones). He noted how his eyebrows were knit together in concentration as he stroked his chin. He kept his face carefully blank, making it difficult to tell what he was thinking.

I hope he'll have something actually constructive to say and not one of his snide remarks, he thought though believed this to be a slim possibility.

Perhaps that demonstrated a certain lack of faith in his friend, but Dilan figured it was only realistic. After all, the man rarely took anything seriously.

"Mm-hmm, not bad." Braig finally gave his verdict before looking up at him with a grin. "I don't know why you'd even go through this many drafts…I think I got an idea."

"Always a dangerous thing," Dilan said dryly, crossing his arms.

"No, for real, I think it'll help."

"If you insist…"

"Come on, Dil, trust me on this. My advice is don't try to sugarcoat anything but don't rehash every single thing you did either. I'm sure they'll remember. Maybe mention a bit about how messed-up we really were in those days…I mean, more messed-up. I think you've been sincere enough where they'll buy that you're back to who you were before—you're a hell of a lot nobler than I'll ever be. And just…you know, be honest. Shouldn't be a problem."

At the moment Braig suggested honesty, Dilan gave him a look that was as dry as a pile of good kindling.

He said, "Yeah, you, honest," at the same time the other man, with a self-deprecating chuckle, said, "Yeah, I know, me, honest."

Upon realizing what they just said, they both laughed.

"Ha, jinx!" Braig then lightly punched Dilan in the arm.

"Yes, well," he replied haltingly, looking more abashed, "clearly, neither one of us could have predicted you'd be such a strong advocate for truth-telling."

Braig shrugged. "What can I say? I just got the swift kick in the ass that I needed."

"I would say you've received several of them, but what do I know?"

With another quiet chuckle, he shook his head at this but otherwise had no rebuttal. They lapsed once again into an easy, companionable silence as Dilan started the fire. He placed his drafts a few pages at a time, gently stoking the flames with the poker. The only one he saved was left on the coffee table. If Braig had found some decent qualities about it, then it had to be worth saving. Once every other scrap of paper was in there shriveling up, he replaced the screen and simply watched the fire do its job. What was going to be a bitter task had turned freeing, the weight lifting from his shoulders. As the paper blackened to cinders, he couldn't help but find the sight soothing.

"Hey."

He turned his head toward Braig, who still lounged on the couch but with a very serious expression. Dilan couldn't shake how alien it looked on his face, which always seemed to twist in amusement or sarcasm.

He then added, "I didn't realize you had that much on your plate. I should have asked how you were doing instead of yammering on about my issues."

Dilan smiled. "It's fine, Braig. You're just a natural storyteller."

"That's a nice way of saying 'rambler' but thanks," he drawled, grinning, before sobering again. "I was just thinking…There's a good chance Val could be dead. I almost don't wanna go over there tomorrow and find that out."

"I wouldn't give up hope yet," Dilan said more sternly than intended. "She could very well be alive. Stranger things have happened. Look at us and the times we died then revived. How many times have you technically died?"

"Let's see…" Braig then counted off all his "deaths" on his fingers. "Four, unless you count the time I walked into that group of Heartless. Then, it's more like four-and-a-half. I probably got more lives than he does!"

He pointed at Theo, who idly wandered toward the fireplace to be closer to his owner. With a brief, full-body stretch, he flopped down on his side, begging to be scratched.

Dilan obliged while still engaging with his friend. "Then, you see my point. She could be out there somewhere."

"So, suppose I do find her. How do you think that's gonna go?" Braig asked, sitting up more fully. "'Hey, babe, sorry about the ugly scar and one eye. Still think I'm a catch?'"

"Braig…"

"Or, OK, say she doesn't scream and run away from me in terror. I actually get to tell her everything. And I mean everything. Do you really think she would accept me after that?" He glared reproachfully at Dilan as he said this, with the latter thinking he might have heard his voice waver.

"Now I see why the others have been accusing you of self-pity."

"Really? Going with that argument too, huh? I'm not feeling sorry for myself, Sideburns, I'm just being realistic here. Val's not going to take me back, and honestly, she'd be better off!"

All right, Dilan thought as he rose to his feet, looks like he's going to need a dose of tough love here.

"Oh, be quiet, you pessimistic ass!" he scolded. "I guess I'm going to have to show you."

"What—?"

With no further explanation, Dilan grabbed the book from the dining room table, sat down next to Braig, and flipped over to the page on Valeria. He then pointed at the specific line that had struck him most.

"Look at all these places she went to after you vanished. Dalmasca especially is no small distance from these other worlds."

With his chin in his hand, Braig leaned over, glanced at the line, and shrugged. "She could have just been trying to move on, and that was her way of doing it."

"Or she spent all that time looking for you," he said, tapping against the page for emphasis. "True, I might not be acquainted with her enough to know her character. But, I do know that if she loved you even half as much as you still love her, she would have stopped at nothing to find you. Does that sound like her?"

After a moment, Braig nodded and, voice hoarse, replied, "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

"Then, what makes you think she would reject you so quickly? She doesn't sound like the type to judge on appearance. And I'm sure she'll understand how desperate you were to have her back again. Probably missed you equally as much. I'd say she'd be rather disappointed to know you'd developed such a lack of faith in her." Dilan gave him a pointed look, knowing full well he was right about all that.

Of course, there was always the off-chance that Valeria would not be forgiving toward her long-lost love, after all. In that case, he'd be more than happy to eat crow. However, there was a persistent feeling—call it delusion or instinct—that told him he couldn't be closer to the truth.

Braig seemed to think as much too, for he let out a resigned sigh. "That's harsh…very harsh…but you're not wrong. She wouldn't be happy with how I was acting right now. She'd probably say that this isn't me."

"Well, it's not. Just so you know."

"I figured. Thanks, bud." Braig patted Dilan on the back with a roll of his eye and a smirk.

"Any time. Although I have to be sure," he stalled, wondering about the ethics of his idea, before launching into it. "I propose a bet."

"A bet? Over what? Last I checked, you're not Luxord, even if you guys do sound similar."

"Hush, you, let me finish. I bet you 100 munny that everything will work out for you and Valeria. She will have you back in her life again."

Braig's smirk faded a little. "Come on, you serious? This is my inner turmoil we're talking about here, you can't just turn that into some lousy—"

"I believe I just did," Dilan cut in smugly.

Inside, he hoped he was doing right by his friend and that his hunch would prove correct. If this was the way to drive things home for him—to not give up on what he'd fought so hard for—then so be it. Sure, it felt a bit silly to do this, but that kind of approach had been perfect for reasoning with Braig in the past. Why not now?

Braig raised a dubious brow. "And what happens if you're wrong?"

"In the very slim chance I am…" He trailed off, smile softening. "Then, you get double the amount and my sincerest apologies. But, you must know I'd never dream of doing this unless I was absolutely certain. Like I said, I'm sure she's missing you, Braig."

After a minute's deliberation, Braig shook Dilan's proffered hand. "Fine, you're on! Hope this is worth it."

"It will be."

With that settled, Braig picked up his knapsack and headed for the door. "Well, I think I took up a good chunk of your time. I better get going."

"What about the book?"

"You guys can keep it. Main reason I came over was to bring it back. I did technically steal it, after all. Least I can do."

"No," Dilan said, pushing the book across the table toward Braig. "For as long as you've had it, I'd say it's as good as yours. Besides, when you see Valeria again, you can show her that she made history."

He couldn't help the gentle smile quirking his lips.

Surprised (and genuinely so for once), Braig paused mid-step as he glanced over his shoulder at him. His eye moved rapidly back and forth from the book to his friend, who gave him a small nod to show he was in earnest. Then, seeming to have finally believed these words, he let his face break into a free, easy grin. Dilan swore that he might have even spotted a tear gleaming at the corner of his eye.

"Thanks, man. She probably would like to know that. But, damn," he chuckled, choked with emotion, "she's going to be so obnoxious about it. It'll get to her head so fast, I'll never hear the end of it."

He took the book, his fingers stroking the leather cover, almost as if it was a stand-in for his fiancée. And to him, it probably was.

We would all be so lucky to have a love like that, Dilan thought to himself.

With his grin back in place, Braig sent him a two-finger salute as he was walking out the door. But, then, Dilan cooked up a spur-of-the-moment idea.

"How about you stay the night?" he suggested. "I'm thinking you've spent enough time in isolation. And, if it's going to be your last night in Radiant Garden for a while, you might as well spend it with one of your friends at least."

Braig paused again, scratching the back of his neck as he slowly turned around. "Sure you want me in your way like that?"

"You'd hardly be in my way. I could always listen to more of your stories."

He smiled gratefully. "You know what? That doesn't sound like a half-bad idea. I got loads of stories in me."

"That you do, almost too many," Dilan joked. "You ought to let some of them out."

"Very funny, Sideburns. You're killing me here."

For the rest of the night, over dinner as well as casual television watching, Dilan listened to Braig regale him on his old life in Cirragia. Some were the amusing childhood stories shared in the past, while others involved his time as mayor. And still others involved a certain sky pirate captain whose impression was still plainly felt after all these years.

All of this turned out to be ample inspiration for when Dilan was once again alone with a blank sheet of paper and ink pen. It was one o' clock in the morning, Braig having gone to bed a mere half-hour ago. No surprise that he could be just as much of an insomniac as he was. However, he had been helpful in one regard, Dilan considered as he remembered those oddly sage words of writing advice. With another cup of tea in tow (chamomile this time, so he could sleep right afterwards), he put pen to paper. He produced a satisfactory letter in twenty minutes:

To Your Royal Highnesses,

My name is Dilan, one of HRM King Ansem the Wise's royal guards. You may be wondering why someone in so modest a position would be writing to you. The truth is I'm aware of the pain I've caused you in the past and mean to redress it. I may risk endangering the world order, but then again, it is no more than I have already done in the past. For, you see, I once went by another name, one that I'm sure you did not wish to hear again: Xaldin. Xaldin was very much an extension of myself, true, but also a more twisted version. When I was him, I brought much suffering to others and confess to have taken no small measure of satisfaction in this. That is, a shadow of satisfaction.

I was part of a group called Organization XIII, which consisted of heartless beings who sought to build a version of Kingdom Hearts to restore themselves. That was our mission statement, but in actuality, we were all broken people destroying the lives of others. As I tried to destroy yours, for which I know there is no use in denying. There is much more to the Organization's history than this, one rooted in aimless theories and dubious scientific experimentation. I know this as an apprentice to King Ansem, but that is too much to elaborate in this letter.

I will get straight to the point. I'd turned an Organization plot into something even more sinister as I returned again and again to your castle. As Xaldin, I actively sought to harm your relationship beyond repair. Those "visits" were an exercise in what I then viewed as the fragility and tenuousness of love. And I almost succeeded in this so-called exercise. None of this can be casually brushed aside. The fault is mine, and it is mine alone. I can assure you that neither of your highnesses did nothing to warrant this base treatment. You were only two more of the Organization's countless victims. And for that, I am truly sorry.

Perhaps you doubt me and my sentiments, for which I cannot blame you. It would be so easy to believe that this letter is from a still manipulating Xaldin. Nonetheless, I thought that you should know from me personally that he is no more. As Dilan, my true self, I may not have inflicted these atrocities on you….but I gave rise to them as an apprentice deep in studies of the heart. Thus, I still feel responsible for all that has transpired. I will continue ensuring that I leave no room for such errors in judgment or morality again. You have my word, for all that is worth.

I leave you with a recent anecdote. Earlier, an old friend came to visit. He too has dwelt in the Darkness, much longer than I had. As to how he got there, he had made sacrifices in order to restore his lost world, his people, and the woman he loved. Before today, I'd only gathered scraps of this friend's history without him to put it all into context. Once he did, I realized that he would have done (and did) anything and everything for his fiancée, whom he still loves. Such was his devotion and strength of will. At some point, he'd lost himself in that process, but he rebounded with that love never having wavered. This friend not only helped me with how to phrase this letter but (unknowingly, perhaps) with the affirmation that love is indeed a powerful thing. It is not as easily torn asunder as I as Xaldin once assumed but can endure for ages. And such is the love that can be seen between the two of you, the kind that can break a curse. The kind that will be spoken of in legends. No malevolent being, Nobody or otherwise, could ever take that away.

I humbly ask for your highnesses' forgiveness for my past misdeeds, even if I prove unworthy. My actions were those of a cynical man who was barely one at all. I have no excuses or explanations other than the one I provided you. May you have a long, happy, and peaceful reign.

Your humble servant,

Dilan

Out of gratitude as well as a sense of obligation, Dilan allowed Braig the chance to read the letter in full the next morning before the latter set off. He watched that inquisitive eye scan the page over and over—it was all he seemed to focus on. His orange was abandoned as he read and re-read. Finally, he set the paper down, dazed.

"Fuck…That was…fuck!"

Dilan chuckled. "It was an expletive?"

"It's just a great effort. Really. I know if I was them, I'd forgive you ten times over."

"Quite the compliment. But, you know I couldn't have gotten that written down without your help."

Braig only waved this away in response. "Nah, you had it in you all along. Although"—he smirked—"I won't pass up the chance to be called awesome."

"Of course." It was Dilan's turn to roll his eyes.

"You need to send this pronto."

And that advice Dilan dutifully followed as well.

A week later, Aeleus carried the mailbag down to the basement to distribute various packages and letters. As usual, the vast majority had already been delivered to Ansem, leaving the bag quite light. Aside from the occasional package, the rest of the men didn't receive much mail at the castle. Today proved to be somewhat of an exception.

"Hm, let's see…" Even plunged his hand into the bag, rummaged around, and revealed a satisfactory smile. "Ah, these must be my new beakers. Excellent!"

Sure enough, he pulled out a box stamped "fragile" and set it aside. He then removed what was left inside the bag, giving Dilan a questioning glance.

"Dilan, it appears as though you have two pieces of mail here. And one of them is a munny pouch with a note…You haven't been extorting anybody, have you?"

Anyone else would have been joking with a question like that, Dilan figured, but Even looked quite serious.

With a shake of his head and a gentle laugh, he plucked his mail away from him. "No. You take to flights of fancy rather often for a scientist. And these are addressed to me, after all. No need to pry."

Leaving a flustered Even (and amused Aeleus and Ienzo) behind, Dilan walked briskly home to read his letters in private.

The first letter had been stamped with a fleur-de-lis wax seal and addressed to him in a neat, precise hand. Letting out a nervous breath, he sat down on the couch, broke the seal, and began to read:

Dilan,

I must admit that it still comes as a surprise to be addressed as "your royal highness" (I'm still getting used to that!), but I appreciate your deference. And your candor. If I'm being honest, when I first saw "Xaldin" in your letter, it gave me some pause. Adam was rather tense as well. Up to that point, we wouldn't have believed the writer and Xaldin was the same person. Sora had explained to us what Nobodies were and the Organization's schemes, but we never really knew how to take that information. I've always wondered whether or not Nobodies were so different in personality than they were as whole people. I think you've proven that they were, dramatically so. In that case, I'm sorry that you had to go through that kind of transformation. Only having the memories of emotions and not the emotions themselves must have been a hollow, lonely experience. Most of us would be unable to imagine such a fate.

However, I would be lying if I said I wasn't angry at first. What you put Adam through was unacceptable, to put it mildly. I saw him retreat into himself to the point where he wouldn't talk to me. There were nights I could hear him pacing the castle halls, kept awake by the lies you'd whispered in his ear. It was a very unhappy time for us, though I am glad we've mostly recovered from it. And yes, from you. But, knowing you weren't always this way—never this way before, from your account—brings us some comfort. I would like to think there isn't so much cruelty in the worlds as all that. You seem to have genuine remorse for your actions, and I would be remiss not to acknowledge that.

It sounds as though this friend of yours gave you the courage you needed to write this! I might never know who he is, but I'm sure he must be a very good friend to you in offering his advice. It also sounds like he's faced many struggles in his life, but it is as you said: it's good that he has come out the other side a wiser, stronger person, as you have. Perhaps it's a bit naïve, but I hope he finds his fiancée. I am fond of happy endings, after all! If you see this friend again, thank him for me.

Dilan, you are not unworthy of forgiveness, if your letter is anything to go by. You have had to learn many hard lessons and own up to your wrongdoings. After you were restored, you likely had to face those you'd hurt. You did not have to write a letter to us but chose to anyway by way of apology. I forgive you. And with some reservations, I can say Adam forgives you, too. It hasn't been the easiest path to it, but you were truthful and sincere. You couldn't have known what our reactions would be, but the fact you looked inside yourself and wrote this took a great strength of character. Thank you for your bravery. I wish you luck in your continued recovery.

Respectfully,

Belle

Dilan wiped at his eyes and felt wetness there, setting the letter down so as not to smudge it. He leaned back, relieved yet shocked. A response would have been ideal but not expected—in fact, he never thought he would be in contact with either Belle or her prince again. But, to have one in his hand with a message of honest forgiveness…It was far more than he could have hoped for or predicted. He held his hands up to his face again, getting rid of more tears as well as choking back a sob.

There was still one other piece of mail on his coffee table to consider, and he knew his lunch break had its limit. He turned over the blue velvet pouch in his hand, hearing the jingling of coins as he admired its heft. Once he touched paper, he unpinned the accompanying note. The handwriting in this one was more of a scrawl but no less legible; it was as though the writer was in a hurry and could only dash off a few lines.

But what lines they were:

You were right, Sideburns. Things turned out better than I could have possibly imagined. Don't spend this all in one place!

-Braig

P.S. Val says hi.

Dilan laughed. "Good for you, you sly dog."

He had thought he had seen the end of all things: his friends, his home, and his sense of self. With these two invaluable letters laid out side by side, he saw the seeds of a new kind of life starting to germinate. Now that he had this chance, he might as well let it flourish.

A/N: Well, this is the second time I've had Xigbar/Braig flip somebody off in this story, go figure. :P I swear if KH wasn't a strictly PG series, he'd be just as PG-13/borderline R-rated a character as Cid in FFVII is with the cursing. So, I want the apprentice characters specifically to overlap in each other's chapters, which is why I decided to have Braig show up here. There were some Xaldin and Xigbar ficlets by ts_soliloquy that I remembered stumbling upon a few years ago and that I went back to again for this chapter. I loved how she wrote a realistic friendship between those guys! And I thought I could do something like this to make Dilan's personal arc meatier: he'd have to forgive someone first before feeling like he could start from a clean slate in asking forgiveness from somebody else was the idea. That and apparently I missed writing Braig so soon after finishing things up previous chapter. :P

Other side things:

-I might have included some sexual tension between Braig and Dilan without realizing it, oop. Not that I wouldn't ship it (I kinda do tbh...), but I'm starting to think Braig would be one of those characters who'd have chemistry with pretty much anyone. What can I say? Guy's charismatic as hell!

-Sorry if the "rough drafts" of the letter didn't read that great. There were strikethroughs originally in certain spots, but FF has taken them out.

-I was really going out of my way to make sure I portrayed Belle just right in that last part there. I mean, BatB's been one of my favorite movies for, like, 20 years, I'd hope I'd get her character right lol. Dialogue's one thing but when having a character write a letter, it's a whole other ball game. I wanted to have her be empathetic while still giving Dilan some shit for what he did. Hopefully, I struck that balance.

-I originally was going to put Dilan with someone, to go on a date or something small like that. I'd wanted to go with another FF character, but guess what? All the female FF characters I'd considered pairing him up with were no older than their 20s! Considering I imagine Dilan to be in his mid-to-late 30s, I didn't want to go for that sort of age difference. And I didn't want to stuff this fic too much with OCs. That's just another little gripe I have with KH in general. The guys' age range is like 15-80, the (young) women's is 15-24. That's kinda disconcerting that they wouldn't bother throwing in older women in the series aside from Kairi's cameo grandmother.

-And hopefully, Val didn't overstay her welcome in this chapter, with her being talked about at length. Though perhaps I shouldn't be too hard on myself. After seeing a certain franchise movie the other night, I at least attempted to give a "new" character development and a means to fit her into the plot as opposed to a rather obvious shoehorning-in. :P I just sort of try to tread carefully where OCs are concerned in general. I don't want them to distract from the canon characters or the larger story *too* much.

Til next time, y'all, and til then, Merry Xmas!