Chapter 137: tRying

"Here," 7 said, grabbing Namine's arm and pressing a Curaga into it before doing anything else. Namine was the easier problem to solve, the easier one to think about. He wiped her blood with the sleeve of his coat.

R shouted. The sound of a body hitting the wall. 7 took short, careful breaths. Anger boiled in his gut. What would he do, if Riku did kill her? It would be R's fault, technically, but—

He and Namine held each other's gaze for a few moments, both of them too terrified to look at what lay behind Namine. They waited two seconds. Then 7 heard R—groaning, in pain, but if she was groaning she was alive. He looked up.

R was slumped against the wall—the only empty wall in the room—and she was alive. She looked to be in a lot of pain, but she was alive. 7 let out a sigh of relief.

That just left Riku.

Namine was running to him before 7 could move at all, throwing herself between Riku and R, arms held out to either side of her. She started pleading with Riku, but her words were water to 7's ears.

There was something… warped, in the air about Riku. Something wrong. Darkness, trailing off his skin. Darkness!? 7 did a double take. He knew Riku was a lot more proficient with darkness than any other Replica, but something about this darkness hung thicker in the air.

He didn't have any more time to ponder it.

In a decidedly not-Riku action, Riku pushed Namine out of his way and moved for R.

7's heart seized in his chest.

"Don't you dare!"

The words tore themselves from his mouth. The temperature dropped around him. He willed his ice to move, starting at the ground around his feet and shooting across the room. It solidified around Riku, holding him in place. It solidified around R, too, to make sure she didn't do anything stupid.

Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve getting thrusted into a situation as terrible at this?

"What has gotten into him!?" he demanded, stepping towards Riku and eyeing him over. Riku was always reckless, and a little trigger happy, but surely R's actions—in these circumstances—can't have been enough to warrant this.

And besides: Something was wrong. The way the air around Riku warped with darkness. The distant look in Riku's eyes. The way Riku struggled against the ice—well, that 7 could understand. It was the rest of it, that…

"Maybe- maybe the darkness?" Namine stammered. She was on the ground, eyes wide with… fear? If it was fear, 7 couldn't blame her. "I mean. Maybe he just got upset, and the darkness took that and twisted it?" Namine suggested.

"It... shouldn't…" 7 answered, eyeing Riku over again.

The Darkness Protection Protocols should prevent this. Darkness and Replicas didn't get along, didn't mix, so there were protocols to protect Replicas from it. And the protocols absolutely protected Replicas from having their minds clouded like this. Had Riku's malfunctioned?

Or, perhaps… Perhaps, 7 thought. Perhaps things worked differently in the other universe. Perhaps whatever Darkness Protection Protocols Riku has, they prevent any damage to his data, but not everything else. Was this intentional, on Vexen's part? Or was that all he'd figured out to do?

"Oh, never mind the why, I suppose," 7 grumbled. Fretting that it shouldn't be happening wouldn't change the fact it was happening. "We have to stop this."

"Yeah," Namine agreed, voice shaky. She pushed herself to her feet.

7 looked at her, judging how well she was handling this—well enough, he decided. "You get Riku out of here, away from here," he told her. "I'll deal with R."

Namine nodded. "Okay," she said. Then she hesitated. "Um. Oh, uh- I can't really… when he's…"

She didn't fully finish her train of thought, but 7 caught on.

"Oh!" He supposed it would be hard to move someone when they were encased in a block of ice attached to the floor. "I'll unthaw him. On three. Ready?"

Namine nodded. She still looked uneasy, but bit her lip in determination.

"One… two… three!"

7 commanded the ice to melt, and as soon as it had melted enough, Namine threw herself at Riku. She knocked him through a dark corridor. They were gone. 7 nodded, satisfied. That was one less thing to worry about.

All that left was him and…

R.

The world seemed to slow around him. His breath caught in his lungs, a pit solidifying in his chest. He moved towards her, pulling his ice back into him to free her from it. She was slumped against the wall, trembling. Her face was scrunched up in pain.

7 tossed up a Curaga as he knelt down beside her. It didn't seem to do anything, but that was unsurprising. His Curagas had never done anything for Xion, either.

"R…" 7 began, unsure of where else to begin. Frustration burned in his gut, along with the shaky feeling that this was all wrong wrong wrong. "Why did you do that?" he demanded, desperate. "R, I can still fix this."

R just shook her head, an empty, rasping thing.

"I'm- I'm in… so much pain, 7," she said. Something of an answer, he supposed. "I think I- I understand why she—"

"Don't. Don't say it," 7 interrupted, pleading.

The memory of how Xion had given up at the end of her life kept him awake enough nights. He didn't need to add the knowledge that R—who was so much more precious to him than Xion—was also giving up to that cocktail of bad thoughts. Not if he could avoid it.

"Listen," 7 said.

"7—"

"No. No, listen, R," 7 said. "I can fix this. There's still plenty of time! It's never taken me months to cure a virus of yours before. I can do this."

"Mmm…" R made a small hum—the hum where she was about to tell him he was wrong, but she was dragging the moment out. Usually she was relishing in the feeling of being right. Today it mostly sounded like she didn't want to correct him. "No, you can't. You don't. 7. Listen."

"R…"

"No, you listen to- to me now. Look." She fumbled with her words, and her breathing was labored. She had not opened her eyes since Riku'd attacked her. "Something- Something went wrong. Something. I'm. I'm- Something broke."

"What broke?" 7 asked, trying to prompt her.

R paused to take a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes still squeezed shut. Her fists were pressed into her stomach, clutching herself as she sat there with her head back against the wall. 7 shifted how he was kneeling next to her, moving a little closer, wanting to do something to help even though all he could seem to do right now was argue with her, tell her she couldn't give up. (That burned, that burned so much, and the fact he'd already been in this position once before—)

"The virus," R said, finally. "The virus, it- I'm. I was- better, five minutes ago, but now I'm- Now I'm." There was a panicked note in her voice, and she fumbled with her words. "I'm- It shouldn't have happened this fast. I don't- I don't think I have— But I! I infected myself like two weeks ago, I should still have months…! But— I'm—"

But she broke off there, mouth fumbling for a few seconds but nothing coming out. An iron vice seemed to tighten around 7's stomach.

She didn't quite finish her thought, but 7 understood. Her virus was killing her faster than it was meant to, somehow. He could see it. It lined up perfectly with how Xion had acted, in her final weeks. Constantly in pain, immensely bitter and tired, not-quite-capable of holding a completely coherent conversation any longer.

If the virus was meant to mimic Xion's fate, then R's data was deteriorating, killing off her vital functions, as well as mucking up her ability to think.

(That was the hardest bit to watch. Watching R's brilliant mind stutter and fade.)

"Do you know what went wrong…?" 7 asked, probing for information. He'd have to fix this problem, before anything else, after all.

R shook her head, though.

"No," she spat, lips curled with disgust. "I thought- I thought it was perfect, or, near perfect." Her mouth moved rapidly, like she was trying to get out the thought before it could be stolen from her. "A the very least, accelerates and makes my data deteriorate faster shouldn't have been on the list of things that- things that could go wrong with—oohhhh…" She broke off with a moan and hugged herself a little tighter, like that burst of passion and that struggle for coherency had been rewarded with a flare of pain.

7 swallowed, thinking it over.

He knew darkness was very damaging for data, and R did just get hit with a couple devastating blasts of it. But the Darkness Protection Protocols should have protected her from that. Unless…? He supposed: Xion's data had been constantly getting scrambled, on top of deteriorating, so if this was the same, then R's Darkness Protection Protocols could have stopped working properly.

But that still wouldn't entirely explain what was happening here. Darkness was damaging to Replicas, yes. Without the Protection Protocols, it would cause some data to deteriorate. Some data. There was no way it could cause near-instant consequences of this scale. (It would take months for darkness to completely destroy a Replica, and that would only be with constant exposure.)

Unless… Somehow, in this moment, the virus and the darkness thrown at R had fed off each other?

It seemed like a plausible explanation.

And, regardless of the explanation, there was no denying what was happening right before his very eyes.

R was dying.

7 pulled her into his arms, having no reason, but wanting to hold her. What else was he supposed to do?

"I can fix this," he said. "I can- I can still fix this," he promised her, tears making his eyesight blur. Despite his promises, he didn't make to move to his computer, which would be his best course of action if he really wanted to save her.

(He knew the futility of his wish, he just didn't want to admit it yet.)

R laughed, a fond sound, but still raspy. "7, you don't have enough time," she whispered. "I don't have weeks, I have hours. Maybe- maybe less…"

7 held her tighter, shaking as his tears fell.

"I- I can figure something out—" he stammered, though there was no point.

"With what Program?" R countered.

Which was a good point. He wouldn't be able to implement any cure he came up with into her data. Not without more of the Program he had.

"Can you get me in?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Don't remember the passwords, thanks to this- this stupid…"

"Then I'll- I'll storm into the World that Never Was, and demand someone there let me fix you!" 7 said—a joke, a desperate wish, he wasn't sure. Both, perhaps?

R laughed again, which was maybe all he could ask for in this moment.

"That would never work," she whispered, fondly.

"I know," 7 admitted. "I know, I just- I can't. I can't let you die, R. I have to- I have to try. Something. Anything."

R was silent for a long moment, and then:

"It's not going to save her, you know," R told him. There was something, some distant emotion in her words. Disappointment? Sadness? "Saving me won't… It won't save Xion."

7 jolted—as much as he could, with a dying woman in his arms—surprised, a little offended.

"What!" he said. "Of course I know that!" He fumbled for words, as a terrible truth was laid out before him. "You think that- you think that's the only reason I'd want to save you?" She was the first to call them friends. Did she truly not believe…? "R, I can't let you die because I care about you! You- You're- I—"

It was hard to put into words, everything he felt. She was someone who exasperated and infuriated him to no end, sometimes, but also a woman he was immensely proud of. A woman who he was elated to see grow, and get this far…

She was a friend he was sad to see go.

"I know," R interrupted. "Shh, I know. I'm sorry."

What was she apologizing for? What she'd said, or the mess she'd gotten herself into?

"It's not your fault," he told her, anyway.

"It… kind of is," she argued.

"Well."

This mess was absolutely her fault, he supposed. But… It was hard—impossible—to hold that against her. A lapse in judgement was no reason to condemn someone. And R certainly could not be blamed for how the virus had malfunctioned, she could not be blamed for how rapidly it had moved to take her life from her.

(Maybe Riku could be blamed for that, but 7 tried not to think like that. Besides, if this had been caused by those one, two blasts of darkness—how were any of them to know?)

"I'm sorry I- I'm sorry I messed it up this bad, though," R said.

7 held her closer, shushing her.

"It's okay. It's okay."

"I'm sorry." Her voice cracked.

"I'm sorry I couldn't fix it," 7 answered, his voice cracking just the same. A pained smile broke on his lips.

She was dying. And there was nothing he could do. And that was truly the worst feeling of all.

"Thank you." R's voice was barely a whisper, like it was too much energy to speak any louder. "For- for being my friend, I- I feel like a sap for- for. But. I needed- I needed you to… know. Thank you."

7 took a deep, shuddering breath, shaking as he held her, shaking as he cried.

"I'll miss you," he said, unable to say anything else.

"I'm sorry. Thank you."

Her body went limp in his arms. She stopped breathing.

7 buried his face in her chest, holding her body tightly to him, and he cried. He cried, and he cried—he cried until what was left of R faded from his arms. And then he cried some more, kneeling on the floor in his office, head held in his hands.

Grief was such a heavy, heavy thing to bear.