What We Do: Chapter 7

I looked over the expanse of sheets and pillows that separated us, not knowing what to expect. Vexen, on principal, never spoke after the fact. Actually, he rarely said anything at all.

To my disappointment, the expression on the half of his face I could see was completely blank. No hatred, no satisfaction. That was more disappointing than anything, seeing him there, laid flat out on his back on the opposite side of the bed, as grand and plenty as it was. It was like there were miles in between our bodies, mine placed hopefully toward the middle, and his all the way on the edge of 'his' side ('his' side, titled due to the fact that the room dropped below freezing the moment I crossed the invisible line after our 'engagement' had concluded). It wasn't as though he slept in this bed.

"Vexen," I turned my head so he couldn't pretend as though I wasn't speaking directly to him. "Since you were so cooperative tonight, I think I'll send a good note off to Xemnas. Would you like that?"

There was a cold silence before he answered, "Perhaps."

"A good note about you. About how hard you've been working."

"Yes."

"You know I like it when you do everything I say."

"Yes."

I frowned. The only thing I resented about the way he performed for me was his clinical, calculative tone. He was trying to ignore me. I didn't appreciate that. "Get up."

For the first time all evening, Vexen looked straight at me, eyebrows buckled. "What?"

"Get up," I insisted, throwing the bedsheets off him.

He curled his arms around his chest for a moment, looking at me as though I'd disrupted something important.

"Get. Up." I was tired of repeating myself-my tone implied this, and that was all it took to get Vexen sliding out of bed and onto his feet, still naked and ruffled. His eyes were sharp, mouth drawn into a straight line. The room was getting colder by the moment.

I threw open the doors to the balcony, letting the warm night's air waft in. "Come here. I want to show you something."

Hesitantly, he followed me. Flat-footed steps made deft sounds against the marble floor, his shoulders still drawn up in an uncomfortable position, just daring me to touch him. Frustrated, he blew at the hair that tickled his forehead and nose as he stepped out of the calm of the bedroom and into the breeze outside. His voice was clipped, impatient. "What?" He was probably used to being able to sneak out by this time of night, dressing as though I weren't watching the way the muscles in his back moved over his spine every time he bent over. This, to him, was an extra, unnecessary span of time he had to spend with me.

My hand reached for the balcony railing, patting it. "Come here. Get up on this."

Vexen didn't move, only frowning and giving me a flat look. "What? Sit on it?"

"Don't be daft, Vexen-stand on it. Face me."

He still refused to move, not even bothering to tell me that I was crazy and that I should just go back to bed. His eyes said as much. It seemed I needed to give him a little extra nudge.

"Vexen, you know I hold your chains. Don't make me repeat myself. Unless, of course, you wish for me to-"

"Fine," he spat, turning quickly to grudgingly test the railing for himself. His hands were pale and cautious as he held his balance, first lifting one slender leg up to rest his foot upon the flat ledge. His toes curled over the edge, as if trying to grip as best he could. Then his other leg came up, lifting him fully up onto the balcony railing, crouched and trying to find his balance.

I watched, thinking what a beautiful statue he would make. I would have likened him to a gargoyle of sorts, but he was far too attractive for that. Though he was mostly composed of bones that jutted from his elbows and hips, he had cords of muscles that pulled taught under his skin. Almost poreless, smooth as an unbroken sheet of cream. It was true that I cherished his body, coveted it; all mine. With his body, I could ignore the sour unpleasantness that his personality left behind.

"Stand up," I instructed, eyeing him and his naked splendor splashed against the night sky.

Still nonplussed, and perhaps even nervous, he slowly let his hands leave the railing, spine straightening to stand. And once he was fully upright, he looked down at me. Perhaps he was even a little smug, thinking that he was above me for once, looking down with a prideful tilt to his chin. I thought it was rather endearing, and only came nearer, letting my hands wrap around the back of his knees. He was cold.

"Do you trust me?" I asked, eyeing every inch of the body before me. I had him open and defenseless, backed up against a lethal drop-he was in no way above me, in no way in control. I had him, I owned him.

"I don't trust you." He answered, perhaps too eager to get his point across. Perhaps if he hadn't been in such a position, he might have recoiled.

"No?" Unphased, I stroked up and down the back of his legs. "Ah, but do you trust me more than, sayXemnas?"

We looked each other in the eyes for a moment. It might have been almost intimate had we both not been trying to hide what was going on behind our eyes, masks of gold and red refusing to reveal an ounce of our true intentions.

"I trust you more than Xemnas," he finally said.

"Good. Then we can benefit from each other." I leaned forward, listening closely for the hitch in Vexen's voice as I placed a kiss upon the skin of his inner thigh. The sharp intake of breath was, indeed, unmistakable. "I will keep you in Xemnas' favor if you keep yourself in my favor. And, to do thatyou will grant me the gateway to Number Six's last reserves of power in this castle."

Vexen's hair stuck to his cheeks as he looked down at me. "I can't do that."

"You will do it."

"How?"

"It's simple, Vexen." I smiled at him, knowing how easily, now, it was to manipulate him until the breaking pointand all because of his fear of one simple, tired old man. "You belong to me already. You simply need to pull yourself from him, leaving only Five under his command. The two of them will stand strong together, as always, but they will not control the majority of this Castle. That majority will be defaulted to me. As I want it."

"Yes, but why?" He pushed at my shoulders, as if imploring me to let him down.

My hands pushed back to keep him there. I mocked, instead. "And they said there were no stupid questions"

"Marluxia!"

"Do it." I ground my fingers into the tendons of his legs, a blatant threat to his balance. "You have no choice anymore, Vexen; when will you learn that? The day you first came to me with your pathetic plea was the last day you belonged to yourself-face that, embrace it. And now do as I say."

As I pulled him closer, he had to grab my shoulders to keep from losing his balance. I watch as his lips curled back from his teeth. "If I could," he hissed with acid, "If I could, I would rip every hair from your body. I would peel the skin of your face back and pin it to your ears. I would chain your body to the wall and watch as you decomposed"

My mouth smiled and, this time, so did my eyes. "You'll do it, won't you?"

"I'll do it."

Marluxia stared at the patch of grass that had been flattened down to fit where the schemer's small body had lain. It was Zexion stepping over him to go wash up in a nearby stream that had woken him up. Of that, he was mildly thankful. It would do no good for him to have gotten any deeper in the memories-they consumed him sometimes.

As he sat up, he rubbed his hand over his face, a little worse for wear. This was the thirtieth world they'd been to together. Zexion seemed to be getting frustrated, as he hadn't spoken for days, seemingly. And, because Zexion was frustrated, so was Marluxia. This hadn't been easy for him, either, and it was almost laughable that the other could get so flustered after just more than a week of searching. Marluxia had been searching for three years.

"Ready to go?"

Zexion stepped over brambles, muttering something in response.

"Not a morning person?"

More mumbles.

"Neither am I. After a while, it gets better, though." Marluxia sat with his hands in between his knees as Zexion moved around the small 'camp' they had set up. They needed to move on. The shard was restless at his throat and that meant they could be getting warm. He didn't really know. He'd only ever found Zexion. And he only really knew for sure that Zexion's world had been the one the shard was leading him to because it wouldn't let him leave. He could travel to an adjacent world, but would always keep coming back, drawn by the resonance Zexion created. If that's how the shard worked, the faster they moved, the closer and closer they would be brought to the next resonance body

Briefly, he wondered what would happen if they stumbled across someone like, say, Axel. Would he have to come with them in order to allow them off his world? If his resonance kept bringing them back again and again, it would give them no choice but to take him with them, as much as both he and Zexion would hate that man's presence. And what happened if a person refused to leave their world?

Two pairs of dark eyes met and Marluxia took the shard in his palm. Like a choreographed motion, the assassin extended his hand and Zexion took it in his own. Darkness bruised the field for a moment and then they were gone.

"We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, don't we?" I stood in the glow of the moonlight for a few moments, knowing Vexen wouldn't answer me. I took a sip of my tea, tasting the pleasant crispness of ginger at my senses. Oh, how I enjoyed ginger before bed. "You know what your job is, don't you? Keep Five and Six out of my way while I deal with the Keyblade Bearer. He is mine, and their meddling will only displease me. Do you understand?"

Vexen hiccoughed.

"Of course, I know you have the tendency to rebel against my wishes, but this time, I think I've made my point. Really, you can be so dense sometimes. It's a good thing you have me to enlighten you." I took a candid glance in his direction, doting on the way his form curled over itself. Like a wilted sprout.

He hiccoughed again.

"Oh, don't be like that," I frowned, moving closer to him. "You know I only want the best for my very loyal, very obedient servant. Hmm?" Every pleasantry in the world I had begun spewing out to him over the last few days as it came down to the wire. It was imperative Vexen listen to me and follow the plan. If I was forced to sweeten the pot (as every good leader had to do once in a while), then so be it. As soon as I got what I wanted, I could always consolidate my policy again.

This time, Vexen made a gurgling noise. Then he gagged.

The plastic stretched taught across the man's gaping mouth and his nose where he had tried with all futility to force more air in. Even with the muscles in his chest moving frantically against his ribs, he was suffocating like this. Vexen was so beautiful when he was desperate.

I moved my hands to cup his strained, hollowed cheeks, the clear plastic of the bag that enveloped his head giving them a smooth, snappish texture. Watching his silent, frozen scream with admiration, I nodded. "Do you understand how I need you to do this? This means everything. When I take my place at the helm of the Organization, you will have your reward. If only because you are the loveliest of them all" Tenderly I untied the cord around his neck and began rolling the plastic over his chin.

All at once, the atmosphere that Vexen had been denied rushed back in, his deprived mouth sucking it all in with a loud gasp. His chest filled once and then, in the same motion, he leaned over and retched.

Thankfully, it was not in my lap, at least.

"Vexen, are you listening to me?" I chided him, tilting his chin up and using my thumb to dab away a line of saliva in the same motion.

He simply stared with unfocused eyes, panting and choking and swallowing against the bile that had risen in him. Unfocused as they may have been, however, there was an unmistakable slate-coldness chipped in them. "I hate you," he barely managed. "I hate you."

"Nonsense. You don't have a heart in which to hate me with."

"No," he insisted. "I hate you. Powers, I hate you, I hate you"

The conviction in his voice nearly startled me for a moment. It was as though he was beginning to believe it. Him; so clinical, so detached. He couldn't feel a thing (he had claimed time and time again that he couldn't feel a thing) and, yet, here he was proclaiming the presence of such impossible, overbearing feelings.

Perhaps it was just the lack of oxygen to his brain.

I gave him a pat on the cheek and smiled. "That's nice, Vexen. You can hate me all you want. Just get the job done."

Several floors below, Lexaeus reached over and turned out the light.

"Did you bookmark my page?" I asked, feeling the mattress dip down as he settled back into place.

"Yes."

"Did you ask Axel about the scuffmarks in the upstairs corridor?"

"Yes."

"Did you close the window in the bathroom?"

"Yes."

Satisfied, I rolled over. Every time, Lexaeus always managed to grant my faith unto him. He remembered everything I asked of him, and always did it with haste. Reliable and strong. Useful. "You please me."

"You please me, too."