In any other instance, Demyx would have been annoyed at the idea of babysitting the newbie yet again. Most of the little ones that came through were flat and boring — lacking enough sentience to be included among their number. He resented that Saïx always hired him for such a demeaning task, insisting that it would teach him responsibility. But this newbie was different from the others. His comrades would describe the kid as blank, empty, or lifeless. But Demyx knew better. Roxas was no zombie. He was a baby. Those eyes weren't lifeless — they were curious. They were absorbing their environment with the same awe and wonder one would expect of a child. They were searching. They were learning. Everything was bright and new and maybe even frightening. Quite frankly, Demyx thought he was adorable.

The kid was smarter than he looked. He could read, and he understood nearly every word that was said to him, even if he didn't speak much. They lounged on Demyx's bed, his arm around Roxas' shoulders and sharing a bag of potato chips while Luxord quizzed him on numbers using his cards. "Okay, Roxas, what's this one?"

Roxas closely examined the card Luxord held in front of him. "Four."

"And the suit?"

"Diamonds."

"Excellent!" Luxord praised him enthusiastically before pulling another card from the deck. "Alright, how about this one?"

"Nine… of clubs."

Demyx ruffled his hair and rewarded him with a chip. "You're on a roll, buddy!"

"He learns quickly," Luxord took a moment to shuffle the deck, fascinated by the way Roxas' eyes wandered around the room as if they were following something that neither he nor Demyx could see. He wondered to himself what the world looked like through the child's point of view. To the two of them, this room had the same blinding white walls as the rest of the castle. The black sky outside the window never changed. They had taken for granted the precious little color they encountered in their lives, only realizing how devoid they were when they saw how Roxas reacted to it. His face lit up at the sight of a yellow banana, a green toothbrush, a red pen — small things that no one else noticed, yet Roxas studied them intently with seemingly fresh eyes. Where the world had become routine for the others, Roxas scanned his surroundings as if seeing it all for the first time.

With the cards sufficiently randomized, Luxord pulled one from the top of the stack and turned it to face the boy. "This one'll stump you for sure, Roxas. Who's this?"

Instead of his usual speedy response, Roxas stared at the card for a long while, drawing concern from his comrades. The expression on his face was shifting, but neither of them could read it. Demyx was about to nudge him when he spoke softly.

"Xemnas."

They gasped. "What? What did you say, Roxas?"

Roxas looked at them, repeating his answer. "Xemnas."

Luxord turned over the card to see for himself. It was the king of spades. "I'm not sure I understand…"

"Oh, I see," Demyx nodded, taking the card for a closer look. "You think that looks like Xemnas? I mean, I don't see it, but…"

He squinted at it for a moment. The picture on the card was typical for a king of spades in any standard deck. The image of the spade vaguely resembled the symbol which the Organization had claimed as a 'logo' of sorts, and was displayed prominently beside the visage of a bearded man with long hair, elaborately dressed and carrying two swords. "Actually, yeah, I do see it now."

He handed the card back to Luxord, who glanced at it once more before returning it to the deck. "Well, we'll come back to that one, then."

What an interesting comparison Roxas had made, Luxord thought to himself. Thirteen cards to thirteen comrades, and in many cases, the king was the highest ranking card in the deck. Visual similarities notwithstanding, Luxord was impressed with the boy's observation. If any man in the Organization were to wear such a crown, the Superior would be the most obvious choice. He was their leader after all, and he possessed power beyond what any of them could comprehend. However, in any game of cards, even a king could be defeated. Luxord contemplated those instances wherein the ace outranked the king. Thirteen cards to thirteen comrades. If Xemnas was the king in their deck of cards, then who was the ace? Intriguing…

"Can you imagine Xemnas with a beard?" Demyx interrupted his thoughts, offering the bag of chips.

Luxord stroked his chin rather deliberately, smirking. "I'm the only one allowed to have a beard in this Organization."

They shared a laugh, loudly crunching a few chips before Demyx handed the bag back to Roxas. Instead of eating any more, he stared at the graphic on the front of the package. The appearance was generic for a low-effort processed snack — a picture of the product made to look far more appealing than the actual food ever was. The center featured a well-dressed photo of an ingredient to fool the purchaser into believing they were eating something natural. Scattered across the image were descriptive words in bold fonts meant to draw the eye. Wavy. Crispy. Now with REAL potato.

Demyx reached over and pointed to one of the words toward the top of the bag, just beneath the brand name. "What's that word, Roxas?"

"Potato."

"Good!" Demyx patted his head before reaching into the bag and distributing a handful of chips between them. As he nibbled on his snack, Roxas turned the bag around and peered at a collection of lengthy words on the back. Demyx leaned his head on his shoulder, squinting at the list and chuckling at the kid's intense expression. He's so cute when he's concentrating. "Roxas, I can't even read those. You should start small, man."

"Maybe we ought to feed him something a bit more nutritious," Luxord suggested, absentmindedly fooling with his cards. "Saïx and Axel are taking their sweet time."

Demyx cringed, repulsed by the comment. "Gross, don't make me think about that. You'll ruin my appetite."

Luxord chuckled softly, fanning the cards in front of Roxas and gesturing for him to choose one. "Well, when they get back, Saïx will have your head for feeding him junk food."

"Pfft," Demyx scoffed, glancing at the card Roxas chose before Luxord lost it in the deck. It was the ten of hearts. "He's so uptight. If anyone needs a bag of chips, it's him."

Luxord made a show of cutting the deck, spreading the cards on the bed in front of him, flipping them over and squaring them off once more. "Saïx is strict, but he knows what he's doing."

He lifted the deck, tapped the front side of it a few times, then dropped the cards into his lap, leaving only one left in his hand. Much to his delight, Roxas' eyes widened with amazement at the card held in front of him, his ten of hearts. It was a special moment for Luxord, the act of performing a trick that would be his spectator's first exposure to the illusion of magic. The stunned looks on their faces, filled with wonder and disbelief, was a treat far sweeter than any confection in existence. He would never get enough of the gasps and squeals, the jaws on the floor and the eyes wide as dinner plates. Luxord reshuffled the deck and began to deal a game of Go Fish.

"I don't know, man," Demyx countered, watching as Roxas examined the hand he'd been dealt. "Can you really trust a guy who won't eat meat? Everything he eats is weird. It's all gotta be so healthy."

"You know, you'd benefit from a diet like that."

"As if."

Luxord broke into a hearty fit of laughter as he finished setting up the game. Suspicious, Demyx raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

He was unable to answer right away, still in the throes and with his cheeks beginning to flush a faint shade of pink. Finally, still breathless, smiling brilliantly and wiping his eyes, he explained himself. "You sounded like Xigbar just now."

Demyx wrinkled his nose. "Yuck. Anyway, give us all your sevens."

"Go Fish."

Luxord couldn't stop watching Roxas as he began the next hand, thrilled by the sight of the boy enjoying the game so much. His anticipation when he reached for the center stack was palpable, and there was something endearing about the way his expression lifted when he picked up a new card. After a few rounds, Roxas claimed his first victory, and Luxord congratulated him warmly, setting a perfect example of good sportsmanship when conceding defeat.

It was when Luxord was teaching Roxas how to shake hands that Demyx realized the man had let him win. Some of his plays were uncharacteristically hasty and lacking in foresight — unheard of for Luxord. Demyx grinned at his friend, fondly remembering the times when Luxord had let him win, if only to cheer him up after a bad day.

Over time, the game wound down and Demyx was resting on his pillow, yawning and affectionately scratching Roxas' head. Dangerously close to falling asleep, he decided to pull out his sitar, hoping the music would keep him awake until Axel and Saïx returned. Once he had tuned up the strings, he began to pluck out a few notes while Luxord shuffled the cards again.

"Ah, it looks like the little minstrel is going to play us a song."

Demyx grinned, responding with an elaborate flourish. He was strumming aimlessly for a while, playing scales and riffs to warm up his fingers when he noticed Roxas watching him. Happy to have an interested spectator, Demyx decided to give the boy a show and played an excerpt from a song he'd been working on. Roxas' eyes seemed to fall into focus on him, his face bright and animated.

"Demyx."

Demyx paused, dumbstruck. He played the lick again, the exact same way, then waited to see if Roxas would respond.

"Demyx."

The musician broke into a smile, and he happily performed the rest of the song for his new audience. When he finished, Luxord demonstrated clapping for Roxas, and the two of them enthusiastically applauded Demyx's miniature production.

"That's the way, Roxas! It's polite to recognize the performer with applause."

Roxas watched Luxord closely, mimicking his clapping motion so rapidly that it almost appeared frantic. Demyx laughed, acknowledging their acclamation with an exaggerated bow. "Roxas must remember that song from earlier in the grey area. I was playing it on the sofa during break."

"Fascinating… you think he can remember melodies?"

"Who knows? Maybe it's all just noise to him."

Demyx began playing a different song, one with a more atonal style. Roxas watched with the same admiration, never once looking bored or annoyed by the sound. He clapped every time Demyx stopped — even if he'd only played a quick arpeggio — greatly flattering him. "Well, he seems to like it."

Perhaps it was Roxas' enthusiasm for his playing going to his head, or maybe he was just tired, but Demyx felt an oddly giddy sensation in his chest as he played for his friends. Most of his comrades hated his music and found the sound of his instrument revolting, and they never hesitated to remind him as much. But Luxord and Roxas were gracious and polite as they listened. If they disliked it, they certainly were good at hiding it.

The show was soon interrupted by a knock at the door. Before anyone could answer, it opened and Saïx entered, closely followed by Axel. The two appeared to be slightly disheveled and breathless, their cheeks a bit flushed.

"Welcome back, gentlemen!" Luxord greeted them with a smirk as they approached the bed. "How was work? I trust the meeting was stirring?"

Axel covered his mouth, snorting and sharing a fist-bump with the man. Saïx glared at them both. "Did Roxas behave himself?"

"He was a sweet little angel," Demyx cut in, surreptitiously tucking the bag of chips out of sight. It made several loud crinkling sounds, drawing nearly every eye in the room. "Quiet as a mouse."

Saïx narrowed his eyes and folded his arms, clearly having seen the chips, but refrained from voicing his disapproval and instead addressed Luxord specifically. "Did Demyx behave himself?"

Before Luxord could answer, the musician scoffed at the implication. "Come on, I did you jerks a favor. Roxas can read now and he knows his numbers!" he declared proudly. "Show him, Roxas."

He nudged his young friend with an elbow, ready to prove his point for his surly comrade. When he'd garnered no response, he turned to discover the boy lying on the pillow perfectly still and with his enormous eyes restfully closed. His mouth hung slightly agape, but he slept silently, never snoring once. Demyx froze, staring at the child and trying not to wake him.

"Oh, crap. He's out cold," he whispered as an immediate hush fell over the group. For a moment, not one of them moved a muscle, compelled to watch Roxas sleep as if mesmerized by the image of his peaceful expression.

"Well, that makes things easier for us," Axel muttered, carefully lifting Roxas from the bed. Even with the light jostling, he did not stir. "Time for bed, little guy."

He cradled the boy delicately and carried him out of the room. Before following them out, Saïx turned back, expressing his gratitude with no change in his icy glare.

"Thank you, Demyx, Luxord. We're in your debt."

"I'm gonna remember you saying that!" Demyx shouted after him. The door closed and the room was quiet again, save for the soothing tones of Demyx's sitar and the fluttering of Luxord's cards.

"What a cute little nugget," Demyx beamed. "I like him."

"He certainly is endearing," Luxord agreed. "A very curious child."

He presented his cards to Demyx, who carefully chose one from the middle and inspected it. It was the Joker, a card Luxord rarely used.

"Reminds me of when you were a newborn."

Demyx paused, eager to hear about the first few days of his life as a Nobody — a period of time that he couldn't remember. It was theorized that some Nobodies were unable to form memories until they'd had a day or two to adjust to life with no place to store them. Demyx had no recollection of most of his first week without a heart, and he'd been told that because younger newborns often perceived the world differently, it was likely a blessing that he didn't. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do."
Demyx giggled. "You saying I was adorable like Roxas?"

"Oh, certainly," Luxord winked at him. "You were rather skittish, as I recall. Afeared of everything you encountered. I had to examine every room for anything remotely frightening before you'd enter."

Demyx rolled his eyes, plucking at a string until it made a harsh twang. "Hardy-har, Demyx the coward."

Luxord flashed him a cheery smile. "I wouldn't have had you any other way, my friend."

"Aw, cut it out, Luxord…" Demyx muttered, blushing slightly as he resumed practicing his sitar, watching Luxord perform a series of short sleight of hand tricks with the Joker card.

"Much like Roxas, you were a child of few words. I believe you learned to sing before you could talk," Luxord reminisced with a fond gleam in his eye. "You really were the Organization's little minstrel."

"Was I any good?"

"I'm unqualified to judge. Tone deaf, you know," he gestured toward his ear with a sad frown. "But I always loved to hear your voice."

He reached beside Demyx's head, snapping his fingers and appearing to pull a card out of thin air from behind his ear. He presented it to Demyx, revealing it to be the same Joker card. "I still remember the look on your face when I first performed a card trick for you," he twirled the card between his fingers with virtuosic control. "You spoke not a word, but it was quite clear that I'd set off a thousand explosions inside your head."

"Which trick was it?"

"This one."

With a sudden snap of his wrist, the joker card disappeared entirely. He twisted his hands around, turning out his pockets and rolling back his sleeves, demonstrating that the card had simply vanished and was nowhere to be found. Demyx grinned, shaking his head. "I still don't understand how you do that…"

"I'll never tell," he insisted, playfully wagging his finger. "Wouldn't want to ruin the magic for you."

As far as Demyx was concerned, there wasn't anything the man could say that would ruin the magic for him. Luxord had nothing to gain from spending time hanging around such a boneheaded youth, so much younger and less sophisticated than a man of his caliber. He couldn't fathom why his friend had stuck by him for all these years, but was grateful that he had. Their closeness was perfect in every way — platonic, but affectionate. Casual, but no less intimate. Without Luxord's friendship, Demyx would truly feel the absence of his heart, and his life would be dull and empty. His memory was peppered with splotches of darkness and gaping holes, but Luxord had no trouble settling in and filling in the spaces like the big brother he never had.

When they could think of no more words to say, they were silent, returning to their leisurely activities. Conversation was not a requirement for them. Their company was satisfying enough, and they could comfortably spend several hours idly entertaining themselves separately, never once feeling as if they were being ignored by the other. It was a peaceful method of social interaction, calming in how it eased their loneliness and maintained their connection without demanding that they don their 'public' masks and drain their energy performing a lackluster charade of extroversion.

Fatigue was setting in, yet Luxord didn't want to leave. There were a few memories, precious to him in a peculiar way, that he had not shared with Demyx. It was true that the young adolescent was rather timid in his newborn days. So much so that he refused to sleep alone for his entire first week. After a few nights of waking up to find the boy knocking on his door, trembling and in tears, Luxord decided to share his bed with him. Demyx quaked and whimpered in his sleep, curled up beneath the blankets and clinging tightly to his companion as he weathered nightmare after nightmare. Luxord found that he missed those nights, long having accepted that back then, he had been just as afraid of the chilling unknown that was living without a heart. Yearning for company in the lonely hours of the evening, he came to eagerly anticipate the familiar knock on his door.

He became so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't realized the music had stopped. He looked up to find Demyx, still holding his sitar, sound asleep. He stifled a chuckle as he cleared up his cards and carefully slid off the bed, wary of jostling him awake.

"You too, eh?" he whispered as he gently lifted the instrument from Demyx's hands and set it aside. He haphazardly draped the blankets over his sleeping body, just in time for him to emit a loud snore. With another laugh, Luxord pulled a card from his pocket and laid it on the table beside the bed — the Joker. Still smiling, he tiptoed toward the door and turned off the light, bidding his friend adieu on his way out.

"Goodnight, little minstrel."

"Lea, it's on backwards."

Getting the coat off was easy — deceptively so. The same could be said for the shoes and pants. Axel figured putting pajamas on a sleeping kid couldn't be all that difficult. They'd make quick work of tucking him in so that they could finally go to bed and get some sleep themselves. What could go wrong?

He had just finished slipping the flannel shirt into place when Saïx made the harrowing observation. Surely he was joking. Axel had double and triple-checked to ensure that he was putting the shirt on properly. Ready to scold his friend for yanking his chain, he peered closely at the garment. "What? No, it's not— oh," just as he was prepared to prove Saïx wrong, he quickly found the tag hanging from the collar just below the boy's chin. Perfect. "Okay, off it goes."

The entire process might have gone more smoothly were Roxas not so restless. He was out like a light, and had been since they'd brought him back from Demyx's room, but instead of hanging limply like anyone else would be when they were sound asleep, he periodically tossed and turned and stretched, making dressing him a challenging task. Saïx had insisted that it was normal for anxious newborns to sleep lightly, but Axel wondered if they shouldn't tie the kid down so that he wouldn't fall out of bed during the night.

He slid the shirt back up over the boy's head and tossed it to Saïx. If he wanted Roxas' sleepwear to be worn in the proper orientation, then he could figure out how to make it happen. The first few steps went without a hitch and for a moment, Axel thought Saïx would be successful on his first try. He was attempting to wrangle one of Roxas' arms into a sleeve when the child began to moan and rolled over out of his reach.

"Hold him still, Lea."

"I'm trying!" Axel hissed, exasperated. "Gosh, how can the kid flail this much when he's asleep?"

Saïx took hold of Roxas' wrist again and the boy wriggled it back in protest. He yawned and curled up to Axel, his arms closing around his torso. Any time they tried to peel him off and finish dressing him, he clung more tightly. Axel, far too tired and frustrated to find it cute, sighed heavily. "It's hopeless."

Saïx thought for a moment. This could all be solved by just waking the kid and telling him to dress himself. It wasn't as if he didn't know how. But it was a risky tactic. They remembered how they'd found him thrashing about on his mattress that morning and how he'd burst into tears the moment his eyes were open. If they woke him now, he might not want to go back to sleep, for fear of walking into the very same nightmare again. They needed a new strategy.

Fighting him was doing them no good. Axel decided to try a gentler approach, hoping he could perhaps soothe him enough to release his tense muscles and get him to let go of his coat. Axel very cautiously laid his hands on the boy's back, drawing him closer and lightly caressing him. At first, Roxas seemed to tighten his grasp, locking his arms in place and burying his face from sight. Although it appeared that he had failed, Axel was unwilling to give up so easily. He was exhausted and wanted so desperately to go to bed that he'd sing the child to sleep if he had to. He raked his fingers through Roxas' hair, dragging them along his scalp and down his neck until he felt him shiver.

"It's working, Lea. Keep doing that."

Little by little, he was able to settle Roxas' nerves, and after several minutes of soft, repetitive touch, Axel could feel the boy's body growing heavy as he finally relaxed. Tired and exasperated as he was, it was hard not to smile as he watched Roxas sleeping soundly in his arms. He couldn't quite understand it, but he simply liked the idea of being a source of comfort and security for him. It was fulfilling in a way — something he could never have said for any of the other newborns he'd cared for. But then, the others were not so affectionate. They didn't cry into his coat when they were afraid. They didn't cling to him when they were lonesome. They never smiled at him once. Although he didn't really know how, Roxas was just different, and Axel supposed he could accept that and learn to live with the mystery.

Roxas' body collapsed in a slump as he finally surrendered, falling deeply into sleep at last. Axel and Saïx shared a nod, and his partner carefully reached for the child's shoulder. When he didn't flinch, he seized the opportunity and gradually coaxed him out of Axel's arms. As soon as he'd separated the two, he delicately replaced the shirt without any fuss. The two carefully tucked him under the blankets and he still did not stir, much to their relief.

Axel threw an arm around Saïx's shoulders, smiling. "Now that's what I call teamwork."

"Next time, he sleeps in the coat."

Axel chuckled, playfully nudging him with an elbow. "Let's get outta here before he wakes up."

Looking forward to a good night's sleep, Axel headed for the door, closely followed by Saïx. He was about to turn out the light when he noticed that Saïx had paused, staring at the bed with a peculiar expression.

"You coming?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Without a word, Saïx stepped into the hall behind him, seemingly deep in thought. Axel quietly closed the door and reached for his companion. "What's up?"

For a moment, it looked as though Saïx was going to give him an answer, but instead had decided against it and shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go."

The two made their way down the hall in silence for awhile, too tired to converse. They had taken a few steps before Axel realized that his friend was no longer following. He turned to find Saïx leaning into the wall, winded and appearing to be in pain. Upon Axel's approach, he straightened his posture and resumed his usual stoicism. "I think I'll go have some tea. You can go to bed without me."

Axel cupped his hands around his cheeks, sweeping away the stray hairs that had fallen into his face. He was pale, and there were beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. "Hey… come on, tell me what's wrong."

Unwilling to lock eyes, Saïx only winced and shrugged out of his grasp. Axel followed closely behind him as he headed for the kitchen. When they arrived, he hastily prepared the kettle and sank into a chair, resting his head on the table while waiting for the water to boil. Axel peered at the tea bags, and when he caught sight of the label, suddenly it all made sense.

"Ginger tea. Isa, why didn't you tell me?"

His friend sighed, not rising from the table. "Because you didn't need to know."

"I could have brought it to you. You should lie down."

"Walking helps."

After a short period to steep, Axel brought the cup to the table. Saïx sat motionless, and after some hesitation, Axel timidly laid a hand on his back, unwilling to jostle him further. He should have known the man was sick. He'd been so wrapped up in caring for Roxas that he'd failed to recognize the signs. In his embarrassment, Saïx often hid the symptoms from him, loath to complain of his discomfort, no matter how bad it was. Axel had trained himself to recognize the subtle giveaways and address the problem accordingly, and in turn Saïx became even more diligent in his efforts to conceal them. In the past, Axel might have scolded his friend for keeping it from him, but they'd had that conversation so many times that there was simply nothing left to say on the matter. Axel rarely won those arguments anyway.

They sat in silence for some time while Saïx sipped the tea. He appeared more relaxed as the minutes passed and eventually he set down his cup and turned to his partner. "Do you remember our first few days as Nobodies?"

Axel cringed. "Yeah… I do."

"I remember what you said to me on that very first night," Saïx continued contemplatively, dragging his finger around the rim of his cup. "You said nothing has to change."

"I meant it. And nothing has."

"Are you sure?"

If Axel had had a heart in that moment, it would have stopped with a swift thud. The implications behind such a question were harrowing. He certainly hadn't felt that anything was different and now wondered with what he could only describe as panic just what his lifelong friend had meant. "I'm positive," he replied, pulling his hands under the table and laying them in his lap to hide the trembling from him. "Do you feel like something has changed?"

"Perhaps," Saïx's eyes wandered the room aimlessly for a bit before settling on Axel's face. His thoughtful expression shifted almost immediately. "Don't worry. That's not what I mean."

Axel didn't realize he was holding his breath until he felt it all pour out of him in a heavy, shuddering sigh of relief. "Does it have to do with Roxas?"

"I'm really not sure," his friend tilted his head with a questioning look. "There's something about him. I can't explain it."

"Maybe you're just attached," Axel grinned. "He's cute as a button."

Saïx emitted a barely-audible chuckle at the suggestion. "The only person I'm attached to is you, Lea."

"Am I cute as a button?"

Saïx didn't have to say a word. Axel caught the smirk that flashed across his face and had his answer. The man's words proved to be almost prophetic in how literally they came true. Later, as the two lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take them, Axel smiled at the sudden warmth of Saïx reaching over and clinging to him in much the same way that Roxas had. It was an apprehensive, childlike embrace that could only come from someone in desperate need of closeness and security — someone who needed the reassurance that he'd still be there when they woke up. In their own unique ways, Saïx and Roxas both needed him, and he was more than happy to fulfill those needs. After all, he was just as attached to them — both of them. There was a satisfying sense of accomplishment in protecting and caring for Roxas, while at the same time, there was a warm intimacy in protecting and caring for Saïx. For a moment, he felt almost like he did when he had a heart. Comfortable. Satisfied. Whole. Before he drifted off to sleep, he drew Saïx just a touch closer to him, freely admitting that he needed the embrace just as much. Perhaps things had changed. Maybe everything changed, and maybe it was all for the better. Or, Axel thought to himself as he let his heavy eyelids fall at last, maybe nothing had changed at all.