The Next Life - Chapter Three

Zexion awoke slowly at first, then much faster once he realised he wasn't in his own bed like he thought. He barely managed to squint his eyes open, peering around the room with his blurred vision. It appeared he had slept on a couch, in a lounge, in a room he absolutely did not recognise. The couch was soft though, very soft. He opted to retreat, closing his eyes again gratefully and lying back down. His eyes felt too grainy to open again, so he settled for trying to remember how he had gotten here mentally, wherever he was indeed.

Slowly, Zexion pieced together a recollection of events. It was a painfully fruitless process until, in a rush, he remembered Roxas Cain and his flight from the hospital. Squeezing his eyes even tighter shut he groaned, for all the world wishing he had woken up to any other day but this one. Just what on earth was he supposed to do now? They would have checked on Roxas by this time, and Zexion's doom would be thus complete. The rush he had felt when fleeing the hospital was gone now. Right here, half awake in his slept-in work clothes with eyes that he could not open, Zexion knew that running was useless. They would find him, and it would all be over.

Little by little, he willed his eyes back to a narrow squint, peering up at the wall. A very distinctive fish shaped clock peered back at him, and Zexion remembered the second half of his night. He was in Demyx Brine's house, asleep on his couch, and most certainly feeling the after effects of whatever he had consumed on the way there. Well, it would take them a while to find him here in any case, he might as well enjoy as much of the day as he could.

Once he could safely open his eyes all the way with the least amount of groggy head spinning he could manage, Zexion slowly got to his feet, testing his balance as he went. He righted his clothes, twisting them around from the angles they had contorted into during his sleep, and ran his hands through his hair a few times. He probably looked awful. He didn't exactly want Demyx to see him looking so dreadful after such a long time, but then again Demyx had most likely encountered him last night at some point, judging by the fact that he was indeed inside his house. At least, he hoped he had. He wasn't exactly eager to add breaking and entering to his Monday Night's Spontaneous Crime list. The first step would have to be finding Demyx, and making sure he was in fact supposed to be here.

As it so happened, Demyx was standing shirtless in his kitchen with a mouth full of animal crackers. Upon hearing Zexion enter the room Demyx turned, with a cross look on his face at first, but quickly softening after meeting Zexion's eyes, turning his face into the goofy smile Zexion remembered so well. Without a pause Demyx waved him over happily, clearly torn between wanting to talk and still having a mouth full of animal shaped sugar. Apparently the speaking clause won the argument.

"Ornich! Onshun?" Demyx managed to gurgle out between his half chewed mouthful, offering the packet of the offending food out to him. There had been a time when Zexion was able to proudly understand anything and everything Demyx tried to say in such situations, being able to decipher every word without fail, yet apparently those days were long gone, and Zexion was left with a very confused look on his face.

"...um?"

Demyx managed to swallow in a rush, walking over and handing the box of sugary goodness to the newly awakened Zexion.

"Found them in the back," he chirped happily, "I'll be in the bathroom."

And thus, Zexion was left alone with a half eaten box of animal crackers in the kitchen of Demyx Brine. At the very least, he now knew that he was indeed allowed to be here, knocking his list of illegal activities back down to just murder. Glancing down at the brightly coloured animals in his hand, Zexion found that he was in fact surprisingly hungry, yet he was most definitely not about to stoop to eating second rate sugar products in the morning, not even at a time like this. His doctorly instincts just would not allow it. Instead, he rummaged through the kitchen cupboards, looking for anything and everything that could be used to summon up a more nutritional breakfast.

Of course, being in the house of Demyx Brine made these efforts completely redundant, doctorly instincts be damned, and he ended up with a bowl of bright pink cereal drowned in chocolate milk. He knew he shouldn't complain at the expense of another person's hospitality, but hell, it was a surprise Demyx still had teeth at all! With any luck he could just slip out quietly and ...

And what? No matter which angle he observed the situation from, there was no escape from where he had landed himself. Zexion Green was no fugitive, he was not about to flee on a spontaneous international merry go round to escape capture. Had he not known he had done it, he would not have believed that he had done anything at all. His record was pristine; he had never broken the law in his life. And now this?

Even with the complete lack of proper food, Zexion had to admit it was comforting being with a friend, if an old one. He did not think he could have handled such a dilemma at his own apartment. Too much there reminded him of his super imposed work life - it was practically all he did after all. Besides, it was ... nice. Yes, it was nice being around someone who wasn't another doctor or patient. Goodness knows, he might even have a conversation about something that wasn't medical for once. He almost laughed bitterly at that thought. Just how long had it been since he had had fun?

Demyx though, Demyx was fun. He remembered that much clearly. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to stay a while, if Demyx didn't mind having a fleeing murderer in his house and all. That way his last days as a free man might be ones he could fondly remember from his dank prison cell. If he was caught early he could always resort to recalling their previous years in college. He could remember those times clearly too. Demyx on the beach, dropping his ice cream in the sand with a yelp. Demyx in the library, trying to talk in sign language without laughing. Demyx in his black coat, playing on his sitar... sitar ... sitar?

Wait, what? Since when did Demyx play the sitar? Speaking of which, when had Demyx ever worn a black coat? Demyx hadn't worn anything such thing in all the time Zexion had known him, he was sure of it. But he had thought it? Great. Now the stress of being a fugitive was driving him insane. Any second now he was probably going to-

A yell echoed from down the hallway. For a brief second Zexion stared, spoon in hand, in the direction of the intruding noise. The next, he was moving as fast as he could down the winding and well decorated hallways, searching for Demyx. Locating the only room with light shining behind the door, Zexion grabbed the door handle and pulled it open.

Zexion stared at Demyx. Demyx stared back. From inside the bathtub. Completely one hundred percent naked. Naked, and wet. A moment passed.

Blushing brighter than he ever had before Zexion slammed the door shut in his hurry to recover. His face was on fire. He slapped a hand over his eyes, wondering just how he could have just done such a thing. He felt a small relief when laughter chimed on the other side of the door.

"What'd you want Zexion?"

Demyx still sounded as happy as ever, clearly more amused than anything else. Oh god, he'd managed to walk in on his only lifeline completely naked and he hadn't even been awake an hour yet. This was not going well, not at all.

"I was uh.. I thought I heard you scream." To Zexion's ears he sounded like a complete moron. If Demyx didn't kick him out after this it was a complete miracle.

"Well ... I guess I kinda did, huh?" Demyx answered slowly.

"Oh? Is everything uh ... okay in there?" Zexion asked, cheeks firing into a blush once more.

"Yeah Yeah, I'm good," Demyx said, his good humour returning to his tone. "Thanks, Zex."

"... for what?"

"For checking on me! I could've been drowning or something, you know?"

"I um ..." Drowning in the bathtub? Demyx's laughter chimed once more from beyond the doorway. Zexion took this as his queue to quickly slip away. Taking a deep breath he tried his absolute best to sneak back to the kitchen without making any noise whatsoever. To his relief, the floorboards decided to co-operate with him for once and not a single creak sounded the entire way. He finally breathed once again upon getting back to the tiled kitcheny haven.

Unsure of what one usually did after interrupting someone's bath, Zexion busied himself in taking in the decor of the kitchen, very much trying not to linger on the situation. It had changed since he'd last been here, though that had indeed been years ago. The linoleum floors were checkered in white squares, while the bench tops were the same dark blue that manifested in most of the house's attire. Velvet drapes, painted doors, carpets and couches all took on the same dark blue colour, giving the interior of the house the very odd appearance of being completely matching. It was a very well-to-do house, he had to admit, and in quite a safe area of the suburbs at that. Zexion felt a pang of guilt recalling that Demyx had inherited it all from his deceased parents years ago. Not that Zexion's parents were any more alive than Demyx's were, but it wasn't the kind of thought one brought up casually.

His train of thought completely imploded as the silence was torn apart. Zexion jumped, driving his hand into his coat pocket to silence his screaming phone. As flustered as ever before, he quickly pulled it out of his pocket, jabbing the answer button and putting the phone to his ear. In a painful cry he held it at arm's length when it rung again at full volume, making his ear ring in pain. He jabbed the button a few more times, yet the phone continued pouring out an endless and increasingly annoying classical tune at him. Great, another broken button. Just what he needed. In a vain attempt to quell the high pitched ringing Zexion clicked the speaker phone button on the side, clearly not expecting any results.

A moment of silence followed before a rich and clear voice wandered uncertainly out of the speaker.

"Doctor Green?"

The receptionist! The hospital was calling him. Had they found the body? Was he being reprimanded? His mind raced in an uncertain panic, summoning up the best reply he could think of.

"Yes."

"Ah, Doctor Green, there you are. I'm afraid I have some bad news." This was it. Everything was going to explode. Zexion couldn't help but notice Demyx walking back into the room, fully dressed and watching him curiously. Zexion felt like sinking into the floor and never returning. "I'm sorry to say it," the warm voice continued to say, "but it seems that Roxas Cain passed away in his sleep last night. I'm afraid there was nothing we could do."

Zexion stared incredulously at the phone for a very long moment.

"...What?"

"I'm sorry, Doctor Green. I know how hard it is when a patient slips away, but don't blame yourself. There was nothing you could have done."

Zexion blinked very slowly, still staring at the phone as if it might yell "Psyche" and erupt into flames. It gradually dawned on him just what this all meant. They didn't think he did it. They knew nothing! He. Was. Not. Going. To. Jail. His body trembled slightly as unnoticed tension released itself automatically, making Zexion feel like he had just been ripped out of some collapsed building and thrown freely up into the clouds. He was free. If Zexion was ever close to dancing, now would be that time.

Clearly his silence was taken for remorse, as Zexion felt Demyx's long fingered hand grip his shoulder lightly, murmuring a sincerely felt apology. It was absolutely the most ridiculous thing ever. Zexion fought off his urge to laugh and sing and dance and tried his best to look resigned. Demyx was smiling at him comfortingly. How had he never noticed how bright that smile was? It was like a lighthouse. A lighthouse with amazingly well kept hair. The most wonderful lighthouse ever.

The phone spoke again, making Zexion remember with a jolt that he was holding it, almost dropping it in the process.

"Doctor Green? Why don't you take the rest of the week off. Doctor Stonewall offered to cover for you once he heard the circumstances, but you only really had the one patient to begin with so he - Oh, I'm sorry! That was careless." Zexion had the very distinct impression of the receptionist biting her lip in worry of offending him.

"Don't uh," he paused to clear his throat. Do not laugh. Do not laugh. "Don't worry about it."

Clearly relieved, the receptionist's bubbly voice continued offering her condolences, saying how hard it must be to lose a patient he must have been so close to, only having the one patient and all. Zexion didn't trust himself to say anything at all at the moment, so he just let her speak, casually flicking his eyes over to watch Demyx bobbing his head in time with some music Zexion couldn't hear. He could never remember finding it this hard to not smile in his life.

He was brought back to the phone call when he heard the receptionists voice arch up in a question.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Doctor Green. I know it's not the right time to ask and all, but I was just wondering whether you'd still be coming to the masquerade ball this Friday. I don't think you've R.S.V.P'd yet?"

"N-"

"Yes! Yes, he will." Zexion shot Demyx a bewildered look. Demyx simply smiled back. Oh boy...

"Oh! How wonderful," the receptionist chirped, clearly pleased beyond all reason would imply, "And will you be bringing a guest? We have to assign the tables, you see. It's quite a lot of hassle for such a simple-"

"Yes, I will be coming with a guest." There was no way in hell Zexion was going to one of those things alone. If Demyx as getting him into this, then he was most certainly coming as well. He shot him a glance, indicating that he meant the guest to be him. Judging from the way Demyx's face lit up and how he quite avidly arm pumped, he had never been to one of the hospital's work functions. The last one had been like watching an elderly couple assemble a jigsaw puzzle, only on mute, and in slow motion.

"Wonderful!" the receptionist repeated, "Well then Doctor Green, I'll be looking forward to seeing you there. Have a pleasant week, and please accept my condolences once more," she offered sincerely as the phone fell silent.

Feeling for all the world like he'd just had sunlight injected directly into his veins, Zexion looked up at the ceiling with the widest smile he could remember having in years. He was off the hook. He had the week off. He wasn't doomed. And he was, for the moment, staying with the happiest person on the planet. Feeling very much like hugging him in pure unrestrained relief, Zexion wondered if he could pass it off as grief over his 'sudden loss.'

It turned out he could.

When Sora awoke the sun was streaming through the blinds of his small, poster covered bedroom. That was his favourite thing about summer; by the time you woke up the sun was already well into its arc through the sky. It may have also had something to do with him waking up dangerously close to midday, but he was willing to over look that fact to back up his strongly biased love for the brightest season of them all. Oh yes, Sora adored summer. Longer days, shorter nights. What more could you want out of a season?

Conveniently enough for Sora's holiday sleep routine, midday was just about the time the mail was usually delivered, and so Sora cheerfully spent his waking moments stretching by the letterbox, letting the sunlight slowly curtail his need to yawn. As per usual, after several long moments of toe wriggling and cloud gazing, Sora looked down to spot the blond-haired mailman riding past, cargo pants pumping as he cycled onwards through the day. It felt odd categorising him as a mailman; it made him seem far older than he actually appeared, and he definitely appeared to be no older than Sora himself. Humming to himself as he emptied the letterbox of its newly acquired contents, Sora settled on calling him a mail-guy and leaving it at that. It seemed about as close to a conclusion as he was ever going to get on the issue – and it was an issue that plagued him rather often.

Looking up and down his still-new-feeling street, Sora couldn't help but admire how beautiful the day was. The sky was that perfect tint of light blue that made the thick clouds look a luscious white colour as they drifted lazily above the street of well taken care of gardens. Flowers poked up from hedges and thick trees lined either side of the road, forming a natural seeming canopy of unbroken green. He was quite sure he could hear the echoes of children playing gleefully down the street too. Perhaps it wasn't such a dodgy neighbourhood after all. There was no sign of Eyepatchman - that much was certain.

Upon the thought of the suspected werewolf something else caught Sora's attention. Across the street, parked rather perfectly between two of the road bordering trees, was Riku's van. Of course, that in itself was completely unordinary. He had parked it there himself to spy on the neighbours last night. What had caught his eye was the dark haired man inspecting the side of it. His hair was a spray of dark braids, hanging half way down his back and looking not the least bit sanitary. He was of rather a thick build, surely standing a head and shoulders above Sora himself, and wore a suit that spoke of business degrees and law firms. Worst of all, upon seeing Sora looking at him, he began walking in his direction. Sora's eyes narrowed of their own free will. Were the werewolves finally onto him, or was a third party involved?

"Pardon my asking, young man," the deep voiced man asked, as Sora but mentally noted how thick and angular his dark eyebrows were, "but are you familiar with the owner of this van?"

Sora blinked. They were after Riku? "Uh, why do you ask?"

Of course, even to Sora's ears his response dripped of knowing but not telling, but he wasn't overly concerned over how he was coming off to the strangely suited man. Compared to the baggy white shirt and black shorts Sora was wearing – and had indeed woken up in – the man practically looked royal. Royal, but scary.

Clearly an expert at picking up tones of voice and conversational cues, the tall man reorganized his attempt at furrowing out information.

"Ah, forgive my rudeness," he said, making a well practiced hand gesture that spoke of flowery introductions, "My name is Xaldin Gustav and I'm a law representative for the PLFA. We're on the search for a known arsonist in the area and he may have connections with this vehicle. "

The man spoke with such eloquence that Sora couldn't help but take him absolutely seriously. Running a hand through his spiked mess of hair, he tried his best to look thoughtful as he answered.

"An arsonist? Here?" Well, there went the safe neighbourhood facade. He had known it was dangerous, he always had. The laughing children were probably waiting to mug him on the way back inside. "I don't think I've heard anything about it."

"Ah, well, in that case," Serious McSeriousness answered deeply, pulling a business card from his coat pocket and holding it out to Sora, "Give me a call if you happen to come across anything suspicious. This man must be brought to justice."

"Uh, I sure will," Sora attempted to assure the man, despite the fact that he had no such intention whatsoever. He took the man's card, pretending to look at it politely before pocketing it with the vague hope that he'd stop talking and move on. A curt nod later, the man did just that, walking back to the other side of the road with a slow steady gait. Curiosity pricked at Sora. Just who was this man inspecting Riku's van, and just what did he really think he'd accomplish by standing around in the middle of pleasant looking street with next to no people walking down it? Was he just going to question each and every person who happened to come out and check their mail?

Whatever his true purpose was, Sora had no desire to spend any more time than necessary alone with him on an empty street. He walked quickly back across his front lawn and, on a whim, picked up the newspaper as he slinked back inside. Sure enough, there were two stories squeezed onto the front page; 'Ongoing Hunt for the Mysterious Sunday Night Arsonist' and, with an even bigger and more importantly sized picture, 'Sudden Death of Beloved Socialite Roxas Cain'. Apparently the man's story came thr- wait, Roxas Cain was dead? This was terrible news! He was just about to launch a singing career! Had been, Sora mentally corrected, had been about to launch a singing career. This was really something.

Practically bursting with exciting news to discuss, Sora made a bee line for the kitchen. Unfortunately, Sora's sudden enthusiasm was effectively trampled upon reaching this destination.

"What do you mean Riku isn't here?"

The deliverer of such news simply shrugged in reply as she went about assembling a far too healthy looking sandwich.

"Just that. He's not here."

"But ..." Sora thought for a moment, tugging on a strand of brown hair as he did so, "But he has to be! His van is still parked outside."

Kairi shook her head at him, crimson hair swaying as she did so. "I don't know, Sora. He probably just went out."

"He wasn't here last night either. When I went to bed, I mean. He wasn't in his room."

Kairi wiggled her breadknife in the air at him, suspicious smile perfectly framed by her straight hair.

"Oh? And just what were youdoing in Riku's room? Hmm? Late at night? All alone?"

Sora flinched, despite himself. He had, of course, had no such intentions whatsoever, but he couldn't stop the blush before it reached his face.

"Cut it out Kairi. I'm being serious."

Teeth bared, Kairi shot Sora a wide grin.

"Why so serious?"

Completely ignoring the very self amused laughter that followed, Sora slammed the newspaper and mail both on the bench before stalking off down the corridor without another word. She was utterly impossible! Never in a good mood when you felt like playing around, making jokes at his expense whenever he was trying to tell her something. He could not understand how Riku and him both had managed to obsess over her so completely when they were younger. He was quite glad they had both gotten over that a very long time ago.

Through her perverse laughter Kairi called after him.

"Oh come on, Sora! I was only kidding."

"Well I'm not laughing Kairi!"

In a huff, Sora walked across their shared miniscule and barely furnished lounge. He stopped at the window to stare out across the street, arms folding across his chest as he did so. Just where had Riku gone?

Peering out between the double row of trees, Sora was barely surprised to see the business coated man still where he had been. All pretence of inspecting Riku's van apparently forgotten, he was now quite avidly staring at the house it was parked in front of. It was, quite possibly, the most suspicious thing Sora had ever seen. Was the arsonist story really a lie after all? Or, perhaps, the arsonist was his true goal, and inspecting the house was the facade? But just who was he trying to deceive? Besides Kairi and Riku, Sora only knew one other person on this street, and that was Eyepatchman. The law guy certainly hadn't seemed like a werewolf. Not that he'd ever met one personally, but they weren't exactly well known for being eloquent speakers. Perhaps a vampire then? No, it was the middle of the day. A vampire would be burning itself to death in direct sunlight like that. What else then. A doppelganger? Or ... a ninja?

He wasn't sure just what it was, but the prospect of the supernatural just seemed more likely than anything simpler these days. Sora could never quite put his finger on it, but it just felt like something was ... different. Changing. As if something big was about to happen and it could explode onto his front lawn at any given moment. Ever since he'd moved in, the whole place just didn't seem normal. Maybe the whole town was haunted.

"He's been there all day."

Anger completely forgotten, Sora looked to his left. Kairi was standing just next to him, plate in one hand, sandwich in the other, staring out at the same man across the street. She was really beautiful; Sora had to admit, even in spite of the current dilemma. She just ... was. Not that he would ever go there again. He was well past that to be sure, but her beauty was a simple fact. He would never admit it, but he felt better with her around. It was comforting.

On a sudden thought, Sora dug into his pocket.

"He gave me his card."

He offered the card to her, and after putting her sandwich back on the plate and quickly dusting her hand on her clothes, Kairi inspected it closely.

"Did he say what he was waiting for?"

"All he said was that he was looking for an arsonist in the area." Was that it? It seemed like he had talked for quite a bit longer than just that one sentence. "Oh, and he thought Riku's van was connected to him. The arsonist, I mean."

Instead of an incredulous giggle or even a snort of disbelief like Sora was expecting, Kairi stayed silent, eyes flicking from side to side as she took in the business card. Sora took the chance to take a closer look at it as well. The small rectangular card was simple and white. It had the name of the man's business in thick bold letters in the middle, the man's apparent name in slightly smaller text underneath. That was it. Apparently the most suspicious man Sora had ever met also had the most boring business card Sora had ever seen. Kairi spoke, bringing Sora back out of this train of thought.

"The PLFA. Never heard of them."

"Neither," Sora agreed, resting his hands on the back of his head. "And did you hear about Roxas Cain?"

Kairi nodded in response, turning the card over to check the back briefly. Handing it back to Sora, she returned her stare to the man outside.

"I was looking forward to hearing his music too."

Sora laughed then. A short laugh, but a laugh all the same.

"Ditto."

Thinking about Riku once more, Sora couldn't help but wonder where he'd gone. If Sora himself had disappeared like this he was sure they'd have both taken it a lot more seriously. But then, Sora wasn't exactly as independent as Riku was. Then again, should that matter? Even for Riku, disappearing in the middle of the night wasn't exactly common practice. With a defeated exhale, Sora settled for murmuring.

"I still don't know where Riku could have gone to."

"He doesn't have to tell us whenever he goes somewhere, Sora."

"Yeah I know, but he should ... leave a note, or something."

For once, Kairi didn't quip over how worried he was. Sora glanced again at the white van outside. Well, he certainly wasn't accomplishing anything here. The suited man wasn't in sight for the moment. Perhaps if he made a run for it he could catch him off guard and drive away before he could ask any more questions.

"I think I'll go look for him. For a bit. Just in case."

Kairi smiled at him then, all humour once more.

"You just want to drive his car, don't you?"

Sora stuck his tongue out at her. Grabbing the keys from the kitchen bench, he was surprised to see Kairi put down her plate and follow him. He snorted at her, folding his arms triumphantly.

"Worried too?"

"Actually," Kairi said, with a gentle dose of smarm, "You need a licensed driver with you at all times, mister learner driver."

"...Oh."

"Besides, we need milk."