Chapter 10, The Aftermath

A cold breeze flew threw the castle's maintenance area, stirring Demyx to open his eyes. It was done. The Heartless were gone, or at least most of them. The stragglers that were left behind were feebly retreating into their dark corridors, for even demonic minions such as them know when they are beaten.

Vexen had won the battle for them.

"Does it have to be this cold?" Axel shivered as he stood up. "Talk about overkill."

"It did the trick," Zexion said, awestruck. "They're gone. The Heartless are retreating."

"That's great," Larxene interjected. "But what about…"

"He's gone," Saix answered the question before it was asked. "There's no way he couldn't have been caught in that blast. Vexen's…"

"…alive!" Demyx exclaimed, pointing towards the horizon.

"Really?" Zexion perked up, looking out through the gaping hole in the wall.

"Possibly maybe. See that red blur over there?" The sitarist pointed to a spec descending slowly in front of Memory's Skyscraper. "That's his tracksuit from the 80's! That's gotta be him. C'mon!" Already, he was sprinting out of the room, the others trailing behind.

The group reached Memory's Skyscraper's plaza, but they didn't find Vexen waiting for them. Rather, just the torn remnants of his tracksuit.

Demyx fell to his knees, clutching the torn fabric. "Oh, no…"

Zexion knelt down beside the musician, looking at what was left of his mentor. "Oh, Vexen. You picked a fine time to do a selfless act. You stupid, stupid genius…"

Lexaeus looked down grimly, mourning the lost. Axel tried to do the same, even if the climate wasn't doing him any favors.

Larxene bit her lip, feeling that weird buzz in her gut—the same one she felt when she met Elrena. She didn't like the feeling, but she acted on it, nevertheless.

"C'mon, sport," Larxene put her hand on Demyx's shoulder. "Let's go home."

"Not so fast."

Everyone looked up to find their Superior descending from the heavens, with Xigbar and Luxord at his side.

"Xemnas," Saix bowed down to greet their master. "You've survived."

"Yeah, yeah, save the bootlicking for later," Xigbar waved the Moon Man off. "We want answers."

"For example," Luxord shuffled a deck of cards. "Why have the dead risen?"

"Why is our prisoner out taking a stroll?" Xigbar glared at Zexion.

"And what has become of our dear colleague Vexen?" Xemnas asked in his signature monotone.

Our heroes looked between each other, as if to shift the duty of telling this long story to someone else.

"Well," Demyx spoke up. "I think I can explain…" He unveiled his sitar. "…via lengthy rock opera."

Xemnas blinked. "It won't be the worst thing that's befallen us today."

And so Demyx began to play their ballad.

"…and in a mighty flash of light/Vexen rid us of the Heartless plight/And left us in a wonderland dusted with…" Demyx fished for a rhyme. "…white." He cleared his throat. "Because it's snowing, see? And snow is white, so…I'm not really good with this stuff on the fly."

"We get it," Xigbar pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated and much in need of a drink.

"So yeah, that's what happened." Demyx wasn't sure what was left to do, so he did a quick bow and stepped aside.

"Hm," Xemnas stroked his chin, deep in contemplation. "Vexen gave way to this conflict occurring in the first place, his absence costing us dearly. Yet, he managed to return just in time, near single-handedly saving the Organization." He was silent. "Oh, well. Let's return to the castle."

Xemnas began his stride back to headquarters.

"That's it?" Larxene blurted out in disbelief. "'Oh, well?' If it weren't for Vexen, we'd all be dead!"

"And if he were here, I'd thank him," Xemnas replied nonchalantly. "But he's left us. Heartbreaking, really. Saix, what does a selfless sacrifice warrant an Organization member?"

Saix cracked out the Organization's Terms and Conditions: Pocket Edition and flipped through its many pages. "An honorary plaque in the lobby."

"Honorary plaque it is. Come now. It's getting awfully late…"

"I don't believe it," Zexion scoffed, unable to hide his disgust. "Even when he's saved your sorry lives, you can't manage to give Vexen even a morsel of appreciation."

"Should the traitor really be speaking?" Saix said snobbishly.

"Oh, lay off it, man," Axel rolled his eyes. "He's not even a traitor because Vexen's alive." He paused. "At least he was."

"Still," Luxord pondered, fanning himself with one of his own cards. "You did release a prisoner. That's against Organization regulations, no?"

"But that doesn't count if he's wrongfully imprisoned!" Zexion countered, furious.

"Oh, can we just agree to forget the technical speak and die in bed, for God's sake?" Xigbar groaned.

"No, we're talking about this! Vexen is due some respect!"

"I'll be sure to ask Marluxia to leave some flowers on his grave," Saix sassed, not even looking the bookworm in the eye.

"Why you…" Zexion lunged at Saix, though he was held back by Lexaeus and Axel. "…temperamental, elitist, self-righteous sycophant!"

"Ooo, Shy Guy's got a temper!" Xigbar wise-cracked. "Why are you getting so hyper?" Larxene kicked Xigbar in the shin. "Argh! What the hell was that for?!"

"No particular reason," Larxene said casually. "I just felt like it."

"But you can't feel anything."

"I can feel what I want, bitch!"

"Friends! Colleagues! Contemporaries!" Luxord pled with the rising chaos. "Infighting is against the rules! We shouldn't break the rules!"

"Piffle to the rules!" Zexion hissed.

Luxord gasped, clutching his chest.

"Just like your mentor," Xemnas shook his head. "As disrespectful as ever."

"Well, maybe he has a point," Axel spoke up.

"Axel!" Saix snapped. "Keep it to yourself, for your sake!"

"Shove off!"

"No, you!"

"Kick me again, you psycho-bitch, I dare you!"

"I can do more than kick, Jack, lemme tell you…"

"But…but…the rules!"

"Order! Order!"

"ENOUGH!" One voice rose over all the others, and each head turned to Demyx, standing with authority atop the stairs to Memory's Skyscraper. It was definitely the loudest they have ever heard the youth speak, effectively putting an end to all their quarrels.

"Enough!" Demyx repeated, somewhat shocked they were listening to him. "I can't believe you. Vexen off and sacrifices him, and the moment you guys decide to grow back your emotions, it's all rage and fury directed at each other. Can't Vexen's death be about Vexen? Would it hurt to acknowledge him just this once, even if he's not here to appreciate it? But no, you have to argue and shin-kick and cry about the rules—this explains it."

"Explains what?" Xemnas inquired.

"The low morale! Like, holy moly! No wonder Vexen felt disrespected. He was the lightning rod for all your pent-up issues! And now that he's gone, you just take it out on each other! Yet, you can't even bring yourselves to admit you needed him. Whether it was because he saved your lives or served as your spite dumpster, you can't get over your huge egos!" Demyx lifted his sitar in the air, speaking confidently and triumphantly. "But Vexen, as self-centered and egotistical he was, managed to get over himself to save us all. In fact, he's done it multiple times. If it weren't for his brains, Larxene and I would never have even left dinosaur times and you would have been goners for sure. He managed to be a better friend than any of you."

"Friend?" Saix said with disdain, not liking the taste of the word.

"You're damn right! Not like you would know anything about friends, considering the one friend you have doesn't even want you to cover up for him!" Demyx laughed despite himself. "Good thing, too, because if he let you, he never would have let Zexion go and they never would have let out Organization 26!"

Luxord narrowed his eyes. "Organization 26?"

"The replicas! Like, they were a bit funky and glitchy and kept saying the same stuff over and over but they saved you! And whose idea was the replicas? Vexen's." Demyx nodded, eyes reddening just a bit. "And now he's gone. So next time something like this happens, you're gonna be sad you didn't thank him today because you need him." He lowered his head. "We all needed him."

Silence presided over the plaza.

"So…" Demyx's voice had become meeker, sadder even. "Vexen, I know you can't hear this but…" He exhaled, melancholic. "…thank you."

A flash of light encompassed the area, blinding them all for a short moment. Once the light cleared, there stood a man with overgrown hair and a shaggy beard, dressed in rags and carrying a walking stick. Everyone was still, bewildered and confused.

"Damn it all!" cursed the stranger. "It's snowing! It can't be…" He trailed off as he got a good look at the Organization and the Organization a good look at him.

"…Vexen?" Zexion asked, dumbstruck.

The stranger blinked. "Zexion?" He began to laugh, growing steadily out of his control. "Larxene? Lexaeus?" He turned around. "Demyx?" The man cheered. "Ha! I've done it! I made it home!"

Demyx's morose mourning was replaced with jovial relief, as he ran down the steps and ensnared the mad scientist in a hug. "You're alive! Holy crap, you're alive!"

"I'll be damned," Larxene smirked, unable to hide her smile.

"I can't believe it," Zexion joined the celebration. "I mean, I want to but…how did you come back?"

"It's elementary, Zexion." From his filthy rags, Vexen took out the gummi that started this all. "It took some doing, but I managed to bend this unpredictable technology to my will!" He paused. "After about ten years' worth of failing."

"It took you ten years to get back here?" Demyx asked, horrified.

"Something like that, but I had many a fond adventure." Vexen began to tell the story of his extraordinary return. "I met so many a spectacular character. There was Chicken Little and Pecos Bill and Michael Eisner and Yozora…"

"We get it," Larxene cut him off while she could. "You tried very hard to get here and now you're here. Tell us about it in your memoirs."

"No one's writing any memoirs," Xemnas approached the scientist, putting an end to this celebration. "Until we understand all the facts."

Vexen straightened his posture and cleared his throat. "Of course. I've supposed I've been keeping you for a decade."

"A day."

"Well, a decade for me," Vexen wiped at his lip. "What do you want to know?"

"You disobeyed the conditions of your suspension, conducted your own experiments, went on a time-travelling adventure, left us vulnerable to attack…"

Saix was frantically flipping through the Organization's Terms and Conditions. "Not going to lie but he's veering towards execution with these charges," he whispered to Axel.

"…returned to save us…"

"OK, maybe down to community service…"

"…deserted us again…"

"OK, back to execution."

"…taking the enemies you inadvertently brought here with you. A dramatic irony."

Axel smirked and whispered to his old friend, "What's the penalty for dramatic irony?"

"Let's see…" But Saix glared at Axel, realizing the jab, and closing the book.

"Ah," Vexen nodded. "Those are indeed the facts, albeit in short form. I have repeatedly violated the Organization's rules and regulations. I have disobeyed your orders out of a simple desire to prove my worth. Immature, I know." He looked down somberly for a moment. "I have regrets. But it isn't the desertion or the treason or the time travel…"

"Then what is your regret?"

"That I felt the need to rely so heavily on your approval. All of you." Vexen gestured at the Organization around him. "I just wanted your respect. For you to realize how much I'm worth to our operation. I'm by far the smartest member here, yet you disparage me at every turn. Why would I want your acknowledgement? You intellectually inferior thugs? Why do you matter to me more than…me?" He smiled. "That was my folly. You don't. I don't have to stand around and take your…your…"

"Shit! Take your shit!" Larxene called from behind him.

"Yes, thank you, Larxene," Vexen cleared this throat. "I don't have to stand around and take your shit! Because you need me! You've always needed me!"

Zexion nervously whispered to his mentor, "Maybe you should cool it a bit…"

"I'm always cool! Frozen, really!" Vexen turned his barrage back to the Superior. "And that's all I need to know. You need me, I don't need you to say it because the time will come, just like today, when you'll turn to me for answers. That's enough for me."

Xemnas was silent. "I see. Since you've made it clear how you don't need our respect, I suppose I'll rescind my thanks."

"Yes, you should. Rescind your…" Vexen paused. "Thanks?"

"You've saved us, Vexen, and I cannot ignore exemplary work." Xemnas tilted his head. "But if you would like me to…"

"Well, some attention could do," Vexen reached out. "Maybe a reward. A compensation for all my years as a doormat. A debt that has to be repaid."

"Ask for munny," Demyx whispered.

"Don't listen to him, Vexen," Zexion countered. "Ask for munny for the research division."

"Just ask for a drink," Larxene pitched in. "Lord knows I fucking need one."

"A jacket!" Axel yelped out. "I can really do with a jacket right about now.!"

Vexen raised his hand, signaling to the others he made his decision. "Xemnas, I would appreciate it if you would…." He closed his eyes and sighed somewhat nervously. "…greenlight my replica program."

"Again with the replicas?" Xigbar laughed. "You and your stupid vanity projects…"

"Come now," Luxord crossed his arms. "Let's give Vexen a fair shake. I do believe he's earned it."

"Please, Xemnas," Vexen asked. "This could change the whole scope of our operation for the better."

Xemnas was deep in his thoughts. "I'm not sure…"

"Oh, come on!" Zexion couldn't help but interject. "You saw them in action! If it weren't for the replicas, we would have been overtaken ages before Vexen did his, uh…special move."

"That may be, Zexion, but they were defeated eventually. They simply aren't battle-ready…"

"Yet. They're not battle-ready yet," Zexion argued. "I've worked with Vexen on these for ages and I know their potential. It's why I knew they'd be effective when I let them out. You just have to be patient."

"I agree with Zexion." All heads turned to none other than Saix.

Axel chuckled. "Um…you what?"

"I agree with Zexion. I wasn't able to see much of the replicas in battle but they were convincing, no? Mildly unsettling, yes, but we didn't notice them lurking in our ranks for some time." Saix shrugged. "I hate to admit it but…they worked."

Zexion blinked. "Saix, I'm not sure what to say…"

Axel cut the bookworm off. "I'd quit it now. He's never in this good a mood. Take it while you can."

And so Zexion clammed up.

"Hm," Xemnas stroked his chin. "I want a closer look at one of these replicas before I agree to anything."

"Excellent!" Vexen exclaimed. "Zexion, fetch a replica from the lab!"

Zexion's eyes widened.

"Well? Go on, Zexion!"

"Well, um, the funny thing is I, uh…released all of them to help out with the fight that was going on…" Zexion nervously explained.

"OK, and?"

"I'm pretty sure they're all scrap metal by now. Sorry."

"Not all of them." Two familiar figures came lurking out of an alleyway dragging a third figure behind them.

"Xaldin and Marluxia," Xigbar greeted. "Whaddaya know? You're alive."

"Barely," Xaldin rasped. "That damned snowstorm spread through the building we took cover in. We would have frozen to death…"

"…if it weren't for our friend 'Lexaeus.'" Marluxia threw down the remnants of Replexaeus. "Say what you want about Vexen's replicas, they make pretty good meat shields." He blinked. "Why is Vexen alive?"

Xemnas glanced at the sturdy replica of their Organization's own No. 5. "Very realistic, durable, powerful, I imagine…"

"Yes," Vexen nodded. "Very powerful."

"Is no one going to explain why Vexen is here?" Marluxia asked again, having faded into the background.

Xemnas ceased his analysis. "Alright. You have my permission to pursue this project."

Vexen was dumbstruck, unable to put a reaction into words. The same could not be said for his colleagues.

"Yeah!" Demyx hooted, jumping in the air. "Way to go Vex!"

"We've done it, old friend!" Zexion clapped Vexen on the back, ecstatic. "We're going to change the world!"

"I…" Vexen chuckled nervously. "Thank you. I'm…very grateful, Xemnas."

"Yes, yes," Xemnas waved him off. "Just please shave. And shower. And put some intact clothes on."

"Yes, yes. Of course."

"No one is going to explain why Vexen is suddenly back—oh forget it." Marluxia gave up on playing catch-up.

"Let's return home," Xemnas ordered his comrades. "I'd say we've earned a good night's rest."

One by one, the Organization left the shadow of Memory's Skyscraper, until it was just Vexen standing alone, still stupefied.

Curious, Demyx turned back. "What's the matter, Vexen?"

"I…I still can't believe it," Vexen admitted. "All this the time—the years I've worked here, our time travelling, the ten years I've spent alone time travelling—all this time and now I get what I want." He shook his head. "I just don't understand."

"Don't understand that you finally got what you want?" Demyx put his arm around Vexen's back. "Vexen, my friend…that's what happens when you spend a long, long time, never ever giving up. There comes a point when you don't think you'll ever win and…" He smirked. "…success becomes a surprise."

Vexen nodded. "So what comes after? The 'win', I mean."

Demyx shrugged. "I got no idea. I'm as new to this as you."

And so the friends walked together back to the Castle That Never Was, ready for a promising new future.

Zexion was in his room searching his bookcase when there was a knock at the door.

"Hey, bookworm," Axel greeted, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. "Looking for a page-turner at this hour of night? Figured you'd be in bed, dreaming of an army of mannequins."

"Not dreaming if it was a reality," Zexion said with a smile. "You were out there when we unleashed those guys. Thing of beauty."

"Yeah. Hot stuff. I assume you're gonna program more things for them to say?"

"Definitely. Would you believe Lexaeus gave a list of suggestions for his speech options?" Zexion chuckled. "Guy's a lot of things. Was not expecting poet to be one of them."

Axel smiled, eying the bookshelves Zexion was searching. "Anything there about Kantian philosophy?"

"Hm?" Zexion turned. "Oh. Yes. Over…" He searched the shelves before settling on one. "…here. What? You wanna read about it?"

"Oh, no. Definitely not. Pfft." Axel laughed. "I was just curious. You kept naming dropping that guy during our…escapade. Just wondering what his deal was."

"Oh, nothing too deep," Zexion waved off the complexity of the issue. "All you need to know about it is it advises you to have a strict code of ethics. There's a strict good and evil dynamic. It really isn't all that special."

"Huh," Axel nodded. "So…basically, you were teaching me—in our cover-up—to grow a moral code?"

Zexion found the book he was looking for and took it off the shelf with a sigh. "If it means anything, it was part of the lie."

Axel looked up.

"Saying you needed to be a good person." Zexion walked towards Axel, book hugged to his chest. "You may be sketchy as all hell, Axel, but underneath it all, you're a good guy. And when push comes to shove, you'll do the right thing. Like, hey! You busted me out of jail, and we helped save the day. That's something, right?"

"Yeah. I guess it is."

There was a brief quiet.

"Now Albert Camus," Zexion spoke up. "That's your guy. Third shelf down, five books in. Give him a read."

"Thanks," Axel said somberly, but with a grin. "I might just."

Zexion left the room and walked briskly down the corridor, leaving Axel at Zexion's door. Once the academic was out of sight, Axel's smile faded. He looked over his shoulder.

Saix was staring back from his room, a penetrating look that carried the burden of a history layered with a sense of obligation and duty. It resembled a friendship fractured but still somewhat intact, still something worth saving.

Still something he would do anything to preserve.

Axel shut off the lights for Zexion's room and closed the door, hoping that fractured friendship wouldn't come to conflict with this new friendship with Zexion.

Because sadly, he wasn't sure which bond would win out in the end. And that anxiety crushed Axel.

Elrena sat herself down in a booth at the Moogle Tavern of Daybreak Town, tailing down the Moogle waiter, "One sea-salt sundae please."

"Whatever you say, kupo." He flew towards the kitchen to get to work on her order.

The young Keyblade wielder was in a melancholic mood since that lady vanished into the light. Maybe she could have helped Elrena explain why she was in the clocktower to the foretellers. The scolding they gave her—the worst that she could remember. They even punished her with a two-week suspension. Elrena couldn't imagine things getting worse.

"Well, if it isn't the shooting star-seeker."

Oh no…

The trio of her tormentors were sitting in the booth next to hers, still hungry for a good bullying.

"What's the matter, Larxene?" mocked the cake-hatted boy. "You got nothing to show off?"

"Oh, please," said the girl in overalls. "What great discoveries can she make when she's grounded?"

"HA HA," the child in the fursuit laughed uproariously. "You're grounded! Like a baby!"

Their jibes and their mocking blurred into one monotonous but tormenting white noise which only annoyed and annoyed her more and more. Elrena wanted to run out of there, she wanted to cry, she wanted to not be as alone…

She remembered what her only friend had told her before vanishing into that flash of light.

Elrena took her advice. "I…" She cleared her throat. "I didn't ask for your garbage opinion."

A shockwave resounded through the building, sending those children flying back three booths away and her sea-salt sundae into the Moogle's face. It was so powerful it transcended the building and encompassed the entire town. No, the entire world. In fact, it transcended time…

Larxene sat up in a cold sweat on the Grey Area's sofa, breathing heavily.

"…and then we enlist a third member. I was thinking either Axel or Demyx. Someone who doesn't care about 'responsibility'…" Marluxia trailed off, realizing how disoriented Larxene looked. "Sorry, am I boring you?"

"Wha…?" Larxene wiped her forehead and caught her breath. "Just felt something weird. Like something clicked into place or whatever." She paused, deep in thought. "Forget it. Go on with that coup shit."

"It's not shit!" Marluxia yelped defensively. "It's very important! And would you keep it down? I don't know if anyone's still up…"

"Yeah, yeah, Flower-Power," Larxene reclined on the couch. "Proceed."

Marluxia squawked on and on, but Larxene couldn't help but wonder what that feeling was, as if her existence was suddenly validated in that moment. Felt weird. Also felt pretty good.

Larxene didn't give it much thought.

"Pen…pen…pen…oh, damn it all. It was in this drawer the whole time."

Vexen took out his presenting pen from the back of his desk's lower-left drawer, sat down in his chair, and got to work highlighting and underlining his notes on the replica program.

"Hey, Vex."

The scientist peered over his shoulder. "Demyx. Why, hello. What brings you here?"

"Just wanted to see how you were doing." The sitarist squinted a bit more at Vexen, who was now beardless and in a new coat. "Clean shave. I would have kept it, though. Shape it like a soul patch. That's what men your age do, isn't it?"

"Men my age," Vexen guffawed. "I'm not that old." He stopped and considered. "Well, it has been ten years and a day since I've last seen you…merciful Hades, I am old, aren't I?"

"Absolutely geriatric," Demyx said with a smirk. "You're still pretty chill, though."

"I suppose I am," Vexen said, not exactly in with the kids' lingo but proud of it all the same.

"Before you get to work," Demyx reached inside his coat and unveiled a vinyl record. "I wanted to give this to you. It's an oldie from my intergalactic record collection. Figured it'd be nice background noise."

Vexen grabbed the record and read the label aloud. "'I Remember You by Lita Roza.'" He furrowed his brow, confused. "Why this?"

"Well, I just figured after you, uh, remembered Ansem it made sense, since you two were so close." Demyx grinned with pride. "Pretty clever, right?"

"Yes, yes. A real genius, you are," Vexen took another glance at the record. "What a pity."

"Hm?"

"All the harm I did him, how little I appreciated him…" Vexen shook his head. "Even if my research does become successful, he won't be here to see it. He'll still be gone. My work will be meaningless."

Demyx put his hand on Vexen's shoulder. "Only if you don't believe in yourself. Only if you give up. And we both know you're strong enough to go on." He patted his friend on the back. "Stay frosty, man."

And like that, Demyx had left Vexen with tons of research to do and a record in his hands.

Vexen sighed and searched his desk for his media player. Upon finding it, he placed the record on the spindle and turned on the device. The sound of scratchy jazz ensued.

"I remember you/You're the one who made my dreams come true/A few kisses ago…"

Vexen smiled, despite himself. The woman's vocals were strong and pronounced, as if battling the musicians behind her. Her striving to be heard amongst the cacophony surrounding her—it resonated with him.

"I remember you/You're the one who said, 'I love you, too'/Yes, I do, didn'tcha know?"

An idea struck him in that moment. He searched his desk for the one possession he kept for all those years alone, traversing different timelines and worlds. The one thing that kept him through all the hardships, that motivated him to return home…

"I remember, too, a distant bell/and stars that fell/Like the rain out of the blue…"

The picture he took of young Even and Ansem in Radiant Garden, all those years ago. A tear came to Vexen's eye but also a smile. For the picture was not just a reminder of a beautiful friendship, of the one person who had ever believed in him, but it was also a reminder of what Ansem and later Demyx taught him: Vexen was worth believing in. He was worth saving. Vexen was a genius, a leader, a friend. Vexen was capable of accomplishing great things and, dare he think it, being a good man.

"When my life is through/And the angels ask me to recall/The thrill of it all/Then I will tell them to remember you…"

Vexen pinned the photo to his bulletin board, his childhood self and dearest friend now presiding over his work. The chilly academic dove into his notes, scribbling and writing and drawing up diagrams, drowning in his research to the warming sound of big band music, assured in the knowledge that everything he would do from this point on would be in his best friend's name. Vexen would persevere. He would not give up. He would continue to believe in himself.

Vexen would not go gentle into that good night.

THE END

Demyx was tuning his sitar in his room when Zexion knocked on his door, holding a book. "Whoa! Book-Master! What a surprise!"

"…Book-Master?" Zexion said incredulously.

"Yeah! Cause books are your thing!" He shot him a finger-gun. "What brings you to the Demyx Den?" He paused. "Den of Demyx." He paused again. "I'm still working it out."

"I can tell." Zexion sat down beside Demyx on his bed, placing the book on his lap. "Do you know what this is?"

Demyx took his time answering, because he was pretty sure what it was, but it seemed too easy. "…that's a book."

"A book about famous historical figures in American history," Zexion elaborated.

"Okayyyyy," Demyx nodded. "What does this have to do with me?"

"You mentioned something tonight," Zexion began to explain, opening the book and flipping through the pages. "Something that sounded peculiar. Not because it didn't make sense but because it did."

"I'm not following…"

"I've heard it before. It was familiar because I read about it in this book…"

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa," Demyx interrupted Zexion's lecture. "You and I both know I've never referenced a book in my life."

"Well, you did this one time, however inadvertently." Zexion settled on a page and handed the book to Demyx. "Second subheading on the left page."

The young man's jaw dropped once he read the passage. "No way…"

"The Love Monkey," Zexion said with a smile. "Activist of the late 1980's, New York politician of the early 1990's, and United States President of the late 1990's."

"But…" Demyx stammered, flabbergasted. "We left him in a subway tunnel with a bunch of cops. I thought he died…"

"Died, no. Jailed, yes." Zexion clasped his hands together. "A talking lemur causing a ruckus with the police, saying 'I am the Love Monkey! I am the Love Monkey!' was an odd thing in the news cycle. But it was an event so strange, so odd, so…disturbing that it inspired an otherwise complacent generation of youngsters. There was something so inherently simple about the lemur's words. 'I am the Love Monkey' became 'We are the Love Monkey.' Soon enough, the Love Monkey himself joined the movement he inspired. Led it actually, once his followers broke him out of jail…"

"Wow," Demyx said, bewildered. "That's metal as fuck."

"Yes, it is." Zexion blinked. "Wait, shouldn't you know this? I thought you knew everything about the 1980's."

"I know discographies from the 1980's. As for biographies, I have no clue." He wove his hand frantically. "C'mon! Keep reading!"

Zexion returned to the book. "The Love Monkey championed a number of righteous causes, from weed legalization to LGBT rights. He later became a New York senator, passed a number of progressive policies. Policies which he would translate into his presidency, passing them on a national scale."

"Wow," Demyx beamed, though he was a little choked up. "He really accomplished a lot, huh?" His expression darkened. "He's not with us anymore, is he?"

"He passed in July of 2005," Zexion clarified morosely. "Though he did write some memoirs shortly before his death."

"He wrote memoirs?" Demyx was stunned. "Was it all 'I'm the Love Monkey'?"

"That's how he spoke, not how he wrote," Zexion replied. "I should also mention he won the Pulitzer Prize but that's getting off-topic. Here's an excerpt from his last memoir. Read it."

Demyx narrowed his eyes and read the text Zexion was pointing at. "'I have so many people to thank, but the least of which can't be the three people who saved me from my lowly beginnings in the jungle. They are who I should accredit most of my success. I never learned their names from our limited interaction (my cognizance then was so feeble), but with their spirits I'm overly-familiar. The pragmatic professor who led our group out of the jungle, the tenacious fighter who felled obstacle after obstacle, and…'" Demyx's voice cracked, as tears came to his eyes. "…and the creative and clever musician. He was my first and dearest friend. Without his beautiful melodies, I'm not sure I'd ever have seen the beauty in life I see now. He sang with an undeniable hope and vigor that I do my damnedest to translate into my work. I don't know where he or any of the others are after that fateful clash in that subway tunnel, but I want them to know that they made me realize my potential. Without them, I would not be the Love Monkey I am today, and to them, I am forever indebted.'" Crying freely, Demyx finished the excerpt. "'I hope we'll meet again in the next life, friends. Until then, you will live on in my memory.'" Demyx was now weeping copiously. Not tears of sorrow, but of joy. Of relief. Of nostalgia, even. He cried mourning but also celebrating one of his closest friends.

"He lived a full life, Demyx," Zexion said, closing the book. "And he has you to thank for it."

"Thank you for showing me that," Demyx dried his tears, beaming. "I…I needed to know he was okay after we left and…" He laughed. "…he did more than okay."

"Have a good night, Demyx," Zexion got up and headed for the door. "Sleep well."

With Zexion gone, Demyx picked up his sitar, ready to return to tuning it when he heard some music a few rooms down. In fact, it was the record he gave Vexen.

"I remember, too, a distant bell/and stars that fell/Like the rain out of the blue…"

Demyx played along with the song on his sitar, remembering the Love Monkey and happy for his friend's success. He was proud to have had such a profound effect on someone, and though he was sad their friendship was short-lived, he was glad it had happened.

Immersing himself in that raucous but soothing jazz resounding through the castle walls, Demyx felt at peace knowing that though he was not the strongest or the smartest or the fastest, above all, he was a good friend.

And that was enough for him.

THE END (FOR REAL, THIS TIME)

A/N: Thanks for keeping up with my erratic posting schedule. Hope you liked this adventure of Vexen's. Please tell me what you think now that it's all wrapped up. Stay frosty, readers.