Passive – A Perfect Circle
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So, here they were. The shade, and its corpse. Roxas stood in the room of white, keyblades held tight, the feel of them so familiar by now, even more so in the presence of the brown-haired boy slumbering within the pod.
There was an eerie feeling to all this, accompanied by a coldness in his chest. Was this what it felt like to – have no heart? To be nobody at all?
Was it fair that Roxas felt, and thought, and yet was considered nothing without that sleeping shell? Damn it, look at him. Roxas prowled around the pod. Without Roxas, he was nothing, he was trapped. The only way he was getting out of that thing was if the blond gave himself up, as he knew he inevitably would – whether he wanted it or not didn't really come into it, did it? DiZ was there to make it happen. Roxas didn't know, though, if he could resist even if he wanted to. Not with all the dreams that kept coming, every time he closed his eyes for long enough – dreams of being Sora. But – that didn't exactly make it okay, did it? He didn't – didn't care if he was never supposed to have existed. He was existing now - wasn't that what mattered?
If only he had some way of knowing, really knowing for sure that this was how it was all meant to be. That might have made it at least – a little easier to bear. How did Roxas know that he wasn't just going to cease to be? Wasn't this his death? He wanted…
He wanted Sora to open his eyes. He wanted the boy to confirm that this was the end, that they were meant to be one. Roxas knew, if he could just –
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stepped up close to the pod, the smoky covering, peering in at the boy. Sora was angel-peaceful, deeply sleeping, not a twitch, not a single flicker of recognition that someone vitally important to his being was standing there, watching him. Roxas' voice sounded odd in the echoing space, out of place as he said, "Sora. Sora, wake up." He dissolved one keyblade, pressed his free palm to the case of the pod. "I'm right here." Anxiety flickered in his soul. "Just – give me a sign. Or something. Open your eyes, so I can see for myself."
There was no response. Roxas may as well have not existed. His hand formed a fist, pounding the pod with sudden anger, panic at the fact that it was all true. "Damn it – don't I deserve that much?!"
"You deserve nothing," the deep voice of DiZ intoned from behind him. "You are nothing, therefore, there is nothing that is owed to you."
The blond hissed out a breath through his teeth, eyes narrowing. "I wasn't asking you – I was asking Sora." He half-turned, glared. "Besides, I'm half him, aren't I? Doesn't that mean I at least get half a chance?"
"You are," DiZ calmly countered, "a mistake that needs to be rectified."
As if the man hadn't already been cruel enough. Roxas spun back to Sora, despair shimmering in his expression. "Please, Sora! Just open your eyes – just let me see for myself!"
"You have no self."
The keyblade burst back into existence, a low tutting coming from the man behind him. Roxas already knew that attacking that asshole was futile, though – his target was a different one. He lunged at Sora, hammered at the pod, swinging wildly with the blades in an attempt to rouse the boy. Sparks flew as metal hit metal, the din cacophonous as they rang against the cover again and again, punctuated by Roxas demanding, "Look at me! Wake up, damn it, Sora!" He did have a self, and he was going to make that self open his goddamn eyes!
DiZ grabbed him, pulled him roughly back, jerking him hard enough to make the keyblades clatter out of his grasp and away. Roxas struggled futilely, all anger and elbows, but the man… he was immovable. What was it… what was it about this guy that made him think he had all the answers?
"That's enough." He didn't even have to bother to yell; Roxas was already losing to his unshakability, weakening in his solid grip. His motions grew feeble, hopeless, until he was limp in the man's arms, gazing helplessly at the continually sleeping figure of what was essentially himself. And, yes – Roxas' summer was over.