A/N: AHA! There it is, folks, enjoy!
Encounter 7. Ienzo
His face stings. He got in a fight with Slightly over something, although just what, he forgets. It's always something stupid, though. Only grown-ups pick fights over important stuff, and Jinks sword long ago that he'd never grow up.
He doesn't know how long he's been a Lost Boy. Time makes no sense here in Neverland, and it doesn't matter anyway. After Nibs, before Toodles. None of them know or care how old they are, but they do celebrate birthdays every so often, whenever they feel in a particularly good mood.
It had probably been dumb to fight Slightly, since he was the biggest, and Jinks was the smallest. It lands him on lookout duty, which is dumb too. The Indians never bothered them. They definitely wouldn't with Jinks on watch. He had friends among the Indians, like the brave Runs-Like-A-Rabbit and the wise man, Dances-In-The-Rain. (Personally, Jinks didn't think dancing in the rain was very wise, but he never said so. It might not be smart, but it was fun.)
It's Dances-In-The-Rain he goes to to tell about the dreams he's been having, like the one where the stars go out and he wakes up screaming. Peter only laughs, and so do the other boys, but Dances-In-The-Rain listens and talks to him about it.
"Think no more of these dreams, little one," Dances-In-The-Rain tells him, patting him on the shoulder. "It will be all right."
He grins, his normally serious face wrinkling.
"Little one, you deserve a better name."
Jinks snorts.
"Don' need one. Got a name already."
"How about 'Dreams-Of-The-Stars?'" Dances-In-The-Rain says, ignoring him. Jinks snorts again, makes a rude gesture, and leaves.
The dreams had started just a little while ago, relatively. Two birthdays, he thinks, although that's not too reliable. Here in Neverland, birthdays don't count years. Usually he's able to forget about them. He flies with Tink, or goes to play with the mermaids, or spies on the Indians, or fights the pirates. They know him by now, or at least they remember that the smallest boy is still a better fighter than most of the others.
He's not afraid of the pirates. He's seen Hook running from the crocodile before. He's laughed at them, just out of reach of their swords and too quick to be hit by their cannons. He's lucky not to be shot, but he assumes that the pirates just have really bad aim.
Until one day, when his luck fails.
He's more surprised than anything. Even the pain comes second to that, at first. His face must be something to see, because they're all laughing. He hits the deck before the shot even stops echoing, losing the will to fly. He stares at the wound without really seeing it, watching something red and sticky covering his ragged clothes.
The ship's surgeon digs the bullet out and stops the bleeding with a tight tourniquet. He's still in shock. He's never really gotten hurt before, not that he can remember.
The pirates throw him in the brig. He curls up in a corner, cold and alone. Eventually the shock wears off, leaving only the pain, which is almost unbearable.
Gradually he realizes that they've been moving. Time is even harder to judge in the ship. It hurts to move, but he's bored out of his skull, so he resorts to doing laps of the brig, climbing boxes whenever the pain will let him. He tries flying, but either he can't muster enough happiness or Tink's dust is wearing off, because he can only manage a few inches, hovering for a moment or two before he falls, and that hurts more. Eventually he can't get off the ground at all.
Sometimes the pirates come down, usually to get food. He watches them and learns which crates hold food and water, so he keeps himself fed. They laugh at him occasionally, muttering under their breath to each other. It's a lot harder to fight without flying, but he does it anyway. He ends up hurting every time, since it's just him against them, but at least it gives him something to do.
Days, weeks, months, he doesn't know, but one day there's a bump, and Jinks knows the feeling well enough: they've landed somewhere. There's a lot of hustle and bustle, pirates carrying cargo in and out. At first he thinks he might be able to escape in all the chaos, but his hopes are dashed as soon as Mr. Starky and funny Mr. Smee come for him. He kicked, struggled, and bit, but Mr. Starky seems to know exactly where he hurts and exploits it.
He's carried like a sack of potatoes over the pirate's shoulder and brought out into bright sunlight. He blinks spots from his eyes, squinting. Wherever this place is, it's definitely not Neverland. It's pretty, but he doesn't have much time to stare before he's put down on his feet. He tries to bolt—where to, he doesn't know and doesn't care—but there are other people here, not just the pirates, and they catch him. They're not as strong as the pirates, but they must have some kind if magic, because they just barely touch a spot on his neck and everything goes black.
When he wakes up, he's not sure he did. It's all dark, and he feels funny, like he's still asleep and this is all a dream. Whatever he's lying on is really cold, but he can't bring himself to move.
It's weird how the line between "won't" and "can't" is all fuzzy, but it doesn't really matter, because he drifts off again.
They fix his wound sometime, he's not sure when, but the loss of that pain just opens the way for a lot more.
When it gets really bad he tries to remember Neverland and life before Neverland. He can almost recall a woman's face, her voice, a man's laugh and strong hands. Gradually the memory fades. He clings to Neverland, but one day he finds he can't remember the other boys' names or faces. Another, he forgets the fairy's name.
Soon he realizes he can't remember his own name.
It's a jolt when life changes again, this time for the better. Going from the lab to life… well, maybe he never really leaves the lab, just he's not the test subject anymore. It's good with the others, with Elaeus.
How many times does his life change? A new face, a new mind to try to figure out, but Xehanort isn't easy to analyze.
It was a dumb idea, in hindsight. You don't mess around with the heart. It's just not done. But they did it anyway.
Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault…
Why is it that the last thing they all feel is fear?
My fault. It was. It was all my fault. Mine…
Zexion shuddered as he fell out of his own memories, Marluxia following quickly behind him. He raised a trembling hand to his face and discovered wetness on his glove. He gasped and shivered.
"Ien… Zexion?" Marluxia murmured, uncertainly moving closer. A moment later, the Schemer slid from his chair, collapsing bonelessly on the floor. "Zexion? Are you all right?"
He knelt beside the other, gingerly laying his hands on Zexion's shoulders. To his amazement, VI leaned into him, slumped limply against his broad chest. The smaller Nobody's frame was wracked by sobs, his thin fingers curling tightly in Marluxia's coat.
"Why… can I still… feel?" Zexion choked out. "Why can I still… cry… like this? Over a past… that's slipped away…"
Hoping Zexion wouldn't kill him later, Marluxia wrapped his arms around the slender Nobody, drawing him close. The Schemer nestled into the warmth, burying his face in Marluxia's shoulder.
"I want to go home!" he cried, and Marluxia was forcibly reminded of how young Ienzo had been. He held Zexion tightly to him, making soothing sounds and gently stroking his silvery-blue hair.
Zexion clung to Marluxia like a drowning man, clutching to what was solid, real, trying not to lose himself in memory again.
"Help me," he whispered, lifting his tear-stained face, his hair sliding back. Marluxia had just enough time to suck in a surprised gasp before Zexion's lips were on his.
The Schemer's kiss was hungry and demanding, desperate. Marluxia let him have what he wanted, partially because he was too stunned to move. If this was what Zexion needed to anchor him firmly to reality, the Assassin wasn't complaining. It wasn't too much to ask… it wasn't his first kiss, and it certainly wasn't bad.
It was only a moment before Zexion retreated, gasping for breath, but Marluxia wasn't satisfied.
"No," he growled, and pulled VI back in. Zexion moaned softly, leaning into it, tilting his head up and closing his eyes submissively. He parted his lips when prompted and Marluxia deepened the kiss. Somewhere in the still-functioning part of his mind, XI registered that Zexion's hands had unclenched from his coat and were now tangling themselves in his hair. He took the smaller Nobody's face in his hands, wiping tears away with his thumbs.
At last they broke apart. Although Zexion's eyes were red, the tears no longer flowed. He looked vaguely dazed.
"No more crying," Marluxia said breathlessly. Zexion nodded slowly.
"Yes," he said. "Marluxia."
A/N: TA-DAAAA! Some real pairing going on! Reviews! Reviews!