What We Do: Chapter 5

Marluxia never seemed to be available in his quarters during the day. Perched up in the highest of rooms in Castle Oblivion, one would think he'd spend a little time there. But no. I had come to knock at least a half dozen times earlier that day to no avail. He had not been there-probably pruning his garden. Or, more likely, pruning his hair.

I had tried giving him credit. After all, we had only been settled into the castle for a week and, as Nobodies were creatures of habit, our routines were thrown off. Zexion and Lexaeus were almost besides themselves, more rigid than ever, as if trying to make up for the lack of normal function.

It wasn't as though I didn't have plenty of work, setting up the laboratory, shooing Number Eight and Twelve away. They pestered just to pester-really, who came all the way down to the basement just to ask for a pen?

This was ridiculous, however. Marluxia couldn't have been that busy. With what? Glorifying himself? Standing in front of a mirror?

By the time the door opened, I had almost forgotten that I had, indeed, knocked. I glanced up quickly on instinct, finding myself in the presence of none other than the vainglorious Number Eleven. It was almost humorous how he refused to open just one door. Both had been flung wide open, announcing his presence. His ego probably couldn't have fit through just one, I remembered noting to myself, giving him a bland up and down look. I had seen him only a few times before in the great throne room at Never Was from a distance, perched as if he were the God of our order and Xemnas were simply the old, used master that was stepping down and handing him the key. But in person, he wasn't so grand as the others had been whispering. He wore a black cloak like the rest of us and probably had a capacity for intelligent thought similar to that of a dog.

"NumberFour, is it?" He tilted his head in the most pleasant of manners. Though something in his tone was reading vaguely-disguised distain, as it was too sweet. Probably to hide the bile.

"Yes. I've come to have a proper meeting with you and begin laying down some ground rules." I wasted no time with niceties, as there would be no merit to it. "Number Five and Six know what to expect when it comes to conduct in and around my research, but I am concerned that you and your neophytes may not be extending the same courtesy at the moment. Perhaps you just need some clarification." I leaned back when I was finished, looking down my nose at him. My expectations were to be made clear. That way, when I was being bothered, I had reason to impose punishment.

I noticed Marluxia stayed relatively quiet and still through my explanation. Perhaps once, I saw his eyes flick over me as if to size me up, then down the hall. His voice was still sugary as he stepped to one side, inviting me in. "Please. I'd love to have a little chat with you. It seems there are many things we need to discuss."

There, perhaps he's not as dense as he looks. Great peacock I walked past him, though those double doors. Inside, it seemed rather clear what he had been doing for the last week. It was a grand room of marble and open space. There was his bed along the far wall, fit for royalty and draped in white sheets. Two doors led from the room, and either could have been a door to the bathroom or a closet. Wide windows revealed a balcony looking out upon a night sky, vines crawling up to reach toward the speckled stars. In fact, vines were everywhere. They curled protectively over the banisters of the bed, they writhed up the walls, as if gravity were not a factor. They must have been the fastest-growing plants in existence.

Also in the room was a little sitting area and what I could only assume to be a faux fireplace. The whole chamber was grand to the point of being gaudy, just as gaudy as the meticulously patterned rug that softened my footsteps as he led me to the sitting area and gestured I take a seat.

Even the chairs were too soft. It took actual effort not to slouch down in them like a slob which, of course, Marluxia had adopted that laid-back position, one leg crossing over the other as he summoned dusks with teathings.

"Now," he began, lending himself some preamble. "You want to discuss something with me. Well, it just so happens I would like to discuss something with you, too. Since we're trying to get to know each other," he began pouring the tea into the china in a manner that made Zexion's usual grace and care look primitive, "I should think we can call each other by our names. And not those silly derived rankings-"

"They're not 'silly,'" I said, eyeing the way he was adding too much sugar to my cup. "They are efficient, as we are an Organization and not a woman's kitting circle-"

"I never quite found it important enough to learn your name the first time around," he continued with a fair level of acid overriding my own, "So I should like to commit it to memory now. It's only proper, now that I am your lord and you are one of my subjects. Your name, Number Four?"

Oh, how dare he. The way my eyes flared up surely told him not to cross anymore lines. That the rank he spoke was, indeed, higher than his own and the wrath of Xemnas could be brought down upon his head at any moment should I so wishXemnasXemnas

I must have faltered, because Marluxia smiled.

"Well? Don't make me go all the way downstairs to ask Zexion. You're so stubborn. I think I like you."

At that flippant remark, I snapped back. "Vexen. My name is Vexen."

"Vexen," he leaned over the table just a fraction. "I have the feeling we are going to be wonderful 'friends.' All we need to do is understand each other, isn't that right? First, I'll try to understand you and your needsand then, you will understand me and my needs. Since you're the guest, of course, I will allow you to go first. Please, Vexen. Speak."

I should have known then that I was dealing with a monster far beyond what I could fathom at that point. I should have walked straight out the door and remained dealing with the neophytes that plagued me. Perhaps then none of what happened would have played out like it did. If I hadn't been so stubborn as to look him in the eyes as I challenged, "I want you to understand one thing, neophyte. Xemnas might have put you in charge of this castle, but he put me in charge of the members. If you can't count, I would like to remind you that the number 'four' is above the numbers 'five,' 'six,' 'eight,' 'eleven,' and 'twelve.' You may do what you like up here, planning and conspiring. But when it all boils down to it, no one here is to disrespect me and my private offices. This especially includes your neophytes. Keep them out."

As I spoke, Marluxia barely moved. Only twice did he lift his teacup to his mouth to take a sip. And when I was finished, he neither blinked, nor smiled, nor frowned. He was completely unphased. Then, without even the clink of china, he set his cup down.

"Do you like roses, Vexen?"

"pardon?"

"I asked you," he raised his voice a fraction, "If you liked roses."

I stayed quiet. I didn't like roses, butas Marluxia was beginning to stand, I wasn't sure what to expect. He doubled back around, striding casually, quietly over to his bed, one arm behind his back. Gazing upon the vines that wound up the banister, he cooed.

"I would like to tell you a story about roses. In particular, a story about a little something that happened to me earlier this month. You see," he sighed stroking a finger down the wood of the banister, as if longing for something, "as I had just arrived, the plot for my garden was not well cultivated. Very rudimentary, with an odd assortment of pests that I had to constantly keep clearing out. My roses, well, they grew quite readily with watering and care. But so, however, did the weeds. Some of the weeds grew almost too fast for me to keep clearing, what with the work I had to do. In particular, there was this rather nasty cutthroat threatening a patch of my most beloved pernetiana" He shook his head, looking to me. "Doesn't that sound awful?"

In the space that followed, I realized he was waiting for my answer. I cleared my throat. "Ermyes. Yes it does."

"Ah, but don't worry, Vexen. Roses are beautiful warriors. Propagating themselves over and in and the soil, their roots took hold, penetrating the cutthroat. Again and again, choking it, molding it, withering its very stem until it turned brown, wilted, and died. And, thus, my roses flourished." With a tap of his finger and a whisper of breath, a bud of the vine on the banister opened right before my eyes. White, virginal, pureand then it cascaded. Though the entire room, suddenly, a wave was created upon which every bud upon every vine triggered its neighbor into opening and pouring forth its blossom of fine cream. If I hadn't been there, in that room with him, I might have considered it the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

He had caught me staring around the room in awe, for when I turned my attention back to him, he was already leaving the bedside to come stand before me. "Weeds simply are not welcome in my garden, Vexen."

Our eyes met, and there was a challenge in both of them, and neither of us was bothering to conceal it. His anecdote was offensive and, quite frankly, quite lewd. And if I had to fight him

"You may go, Vexen. I know you must bebusy." He gestured toward the door. "I will inform Eight and Twelve to keep their visits to a minimum, and, in return, you know what to expect from me." Marluxia's face suddenly grew more sinister than I had ever seen it. Like the darkness itself was pouring forth from his heart to alter his face into something beheld of a madman. And it was at that moment that I knew I should have run.

"Don't be a weed, Vexen," he said. "Because if you ever for a second thought that Xemnas was your worst nightmareyou will soon find out how easy your bones really are to crush." Then, most chillingly of all, he smiled. "Take care, Four."

Vexen put his pen down with a sigh. He looked at the clock, then looked out the window, and, at that point, decided he would need a cup of coffee to keep him awake.

Work had been enjoyable, at least. The other scientists revered his knowledge and respected his theories. But, since it was a little bit of a primitive world, he had to keep from revealing his true potential. The 1950's township he was in was still discovering elements. He was in a state called 'California,' though he didn't care too much about the beaches it was known for. Not as much as Dudley did, at the very least. Sometimes, when he was feeling benevolent, they would both take a walk down to the shore and enjoy a sunset, but mostly his preference for the indoors was respected.

It was usually on long nights when the memories of Marluxia were strongest. Sometimes he was able to retain it to the pages of his notebook, and other times, all he could do was lie in a sweat, pushing the blankets off him layer by layer to try and cool his body. Most of all, he just marveled at how tight those memories still gripped him, even after trying to force them all out. Nothing would ever make Marluxia go away. Nothing.