So it's officially been a year, a week and four days since this fic was last updated.
The saddest thing about that fact is that the next few chapters had already been written, I was just waiting for my beta. I know, I probably should have just gotten on with it sooner, but call me an optimist. I waited far longer than actually makes sense. But I don't think she's coming back, and I would really like to finally get this plot out of my head, so let's just roll right ahead.
The ending is coming a lot quicker than I had originally planned. This fic ws going to be huge, but the way it's going now means that I really can't use all the material I had planned for it and still have a story that makes sense. But there's always a next fic, right? Besides, these characters need a rest. They'll be exhausted after this.
Chapter 12
Zexion cringed as the morning daylight hit his face. He pulled the pillow back over his face and grumbled.
The sound of Demyx laughing tore through his escaping dream like a knife. "It's time to wake up," Zexion heard him say.
So, Demyx had opened his curtains. Zexion would have to get him back for that later. For the moment, however, Zexion refused to move. He intended to make this very clear by... well, not moving.
Just when he thought he had succeeded he felt the bed dip suddenly in the corner. Demyx had sat down on the bed. Gah!
"We need to talk," Demyx said softly.
Zexion's mind tripped and fell over. They needed to talk? That was practically the universal signifier for extremely bad news. Was Demyx kicking him out? Zexion hadn't even been there a week! What had he done wrong?
He sat up slowly, forcing his eyes open. To his great relief Demyx didn't look like he was about to kick him out; he was toying idly with a soft toy in the shape of a small yellow bird. It was cute. Did cuteness discount the necessity of bad news? Zexion clung to the possibility with the same desperation that a drowning man clung to a floatation device.
When Demyx finally decided that Zexion was awake enough to hold a conversation he spoke.
"Last night..." he paused. Zexion's mind raced. Last night? What had happened last night? "Last night I may have drenched all your clothes. I mean, on accident and stuff."
The panic slowly ebbed away, allowing Zexion to relax. He lay back down and closed his eyes.
"Are you mad?" Demyx asked with a worried squeak.
"You woke me up for that?" Zexion asked back incredulously.
"Well, you see... it was one of those totally weird water things. You know, like we were talking about the other day?" Zexion slowly opened his eyes again. Demyx was looking at him with a pained expression.
"Oh," Zexion said.
"Yeah, I thought you'd wanna know."
"When was it?"
"Um." Demyx paused in thought. "Last night sometime; a bit before midnight, maybe? Everything was fine, and then it all just went nuts! Water was flying everywhere!" When Zexion said nothing in return Demyx looked at him. Zexion caught his eye, but when he remained silent Demyx began to blush. In a rush he got back to his feet, suddenly avoiding looking at Zexion completely. "Well yeah, that's all. I'll um, go, now." And then he was gone.
Try as he might, Zexion couldn't get back to sleep after that. Eventually curiosity stirred him into getting dressed and checking on his clothes.
Demyx had been right; the water really had gone everywhere. The kitchen floor housed a puddle that covered it entirely, with streaks of water lining all the walls, cupboards and doors. For a wonder, it seemed entirely contained to this one room. Unfortunately, this hadn't saved Zexion's box of clothes. It was on the corner of the bench, completely drenched like nothing he'd even seen before. Zexion suddenly felt incredibly foolish for not thinking to move it into his room yesterday when he had had the chance. Now he was out of clothes. Again.
Demyx walked in with a mop and –with an incredible frown- started trying to clean up the mess. It didn't seem to be very successful. There was so much water that the mop simply moved it around more than anything else. Demyx was still blushing.
"Were you in here when this happened?" Zexion asked incredulously. Water covered practically every surface of the entire room, no matter what the angle. He very much wondered what it had looked like when it was happening.
Demyx took the question as an excuse to put the mop down and lean against the wall- which he immediately recoiled back from, attempting to rub the water off his clothes.
"Well, kinda," Demyx answered. "I was getting a drink of water, but then it was all, like..." He rubbed his chin before gesturing wildly. "Like WOOSH! It came out of the tap and made all these weird shapes, almost like it was... dancing, you know?" Demyx grinned then, like a small child who was incredibly pleased with himself. "It was pretty damn cool."
Zexion shifted unconsciously. He sometimes wondered if Demyx had the same grasp of consequences that normal people did. What if Demyx had drowned? Would that have been cool too? Zexion must have been frowning, for Demyx looked at him and suddenly the smile slipped off his face.
"Well, apart from your clothes I mean. That wasn't awesome." He looked down at the puddle of water then and, of all things, shook his finger at it. "Bad water," he scolded.
Zexion took that as his cue to leave the room. Before he had made it out the door, however, Demyx had darted out in front of him, handing him the mop.
"Hey, Zex, I still have to work on our masterful disguises for tonight, so do you think you would mind...?"
Zexion scowled, but he took the mop. Demyx's face turned gleeful before he gave Zexion a thumbs-up and dashed off down the hallway. It made Zexion want to sigh dramatically, but he was much too dignified to do that sort of thing. Being the responsible one was such a drag sometimes.
The mop had absolutely no effect on the water that Zexion could tell, so he settled for using Demyx's entire supply of towels to dry off the entire room. Eventually. At the end of it he was left with a large sopping wet pile of fabric to hang outside and dry. No, today was not a good morning, not at all.
But by the time Zexion had changed into another collection of Demyx's spare clothes and had eaten breakfast, he was left with nothing else to do. It was an effort to remind himself that today was Friday, the day where they would go to the masquerade ball and try to figure out what was really going on. Zexion figured he should have been feeling anticipation, or excitement, or even fear, but no, he was only bored. With an extended reprieve from his occupation and Demyx thoroughly busy with his costume making, Zexion was left with an oddly unfamiliar void of activity. He wanted to do something useful, but what?
To his complete dismay none of the food in the kitchen cupboards had suffered any water damage, nor had the fridge even been touched, so there was no food to go out and replace. The carpet in the rest of the house looked fine, so vacuuming would be unnecessary. There was no washing to be done, and he'd already taken care of his dishes. The entire house was just... fine.
In a huff, Zexion went off to find something to read. There wasn't an extensive supply of books in the house that he hadn't already read before, but Demyx happened to have a modern translation of Lord Avon's "I want to be your Canary", and so Zexion settled down rather miserably in the lounge to read it.
Demyx had left the television on, and every now and again he would wander into the room to check whether his favourite show was on. By midday the only noticeable thing that had happened was when Demyx had made unhelpful comments at the television for not 'hurrying up'.
Zexion could feel himself frowning while he read, but he couldn't gather the willpower to care. Was this all he had in life? Work and reading? If this was it, then what was the use worrying so much at the end of it all?
Soon Demyx came over and joined Zexion on the couch. By this point Zexion was thoroughly annoyed.
"I thought you liked Lord Avon?" Demyx asked.
Zexion was pulled out of his train of thought by the comment. He proceeded to find that he hadn't been paying the book the slightest book of attention, but had been reading over the words without taking any of it in. For the briefest moment his sight flickered. Instead of the play's manuscript he was holding a book, hardbound with a black cover. It had odd white symbols on the front, and the title was in Latin. Then it was just the play again. 'I Want to Be Your Canary' stared up at him. Zexion stared back.
By far, it wasn't the weirdest thing he'd hallucinated recently, but it was still pretty unnerving. The masquerade ball really couldn't come quickly enough.
It was at that point that Demyx's favourite show came on. He whooped and cheered – much in the same way that a chimpanzee might do if it had been shot with a rifle – and turned the volume up almost unbearably loud. In part, Zexion was relieved that Demyx was in the room again, but his annoyance overwhelmed his relief like a puppy caught in a flaming tornado. And he could just tell that he was losing it when he started using too many analogies in his inner monologue.
Zexion gritted his teeth and hoped this new level of noise would pass. Instead, the exact opposite happened. At some level he supposed it shouldn't have surprised him that much; Demyx was loud in everything, so why should Demyx watching television be any different? In truth, he realised, Demyx's running commentary had just happened to come at the moment when Zexion was least equipped to handle it. At first Zexion had just assumed Demyx was making a few casual comments and had given it no thought, but it soon became obvious that they were not going to stop. Everything from "no, don't go in there! That's stupid! Stupid!" to "what did I just say?", and two minutes later would come the "if he hadn't gone in there, he would've totally been fine" and the "If I was in there, I would've just punched him in the face! Like, POW!"
Zexion was reduced to grinding his teeth in the sheer effort of not saying anything remarkably rude. It was an overwhelming effort.
After a significantly loud bout of 'I told you not to sleep with him!' Zexion settled for glaring at Demyx out of the corner of his eye. Unfortunately, Demyx happened to look around at just the right moment to see it. Completely oblivious to the discontent in Zexion's demeanour, Demyx did something unexpected. He looked away for a second, fiddling with something in his hands, and then he looked back with a pair of circle-framed glasses sitting on his face. He was grinning at Zexion with expectation. They made him look rather much like a librarian, or a school teacher, or perhaps even a dentist. In other words, it seemed the absolute opposite of all thoughts Zexion had had of Demyx thus far. Moreover, it was completely inappropriate; the main love interest of the movie had just spontaneously combusted, and Demyx was grinning?
Zexion looked away. After a moment he looked back to see Demyx wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively.
"Do you like them?" he asked.
"No," Zexion snapped.
"Well, there goes the 'Harry Potter disguise' plan then." Demyx shrugged, turning back to the movie. After a long pause he frowned, looking back at Zexion. "You don't seem so happy all of a sudden," he noted. "Did the canary pick on you?"
Zexion sniffed in disdain.
"Or," Demyx mused in a far too excited manner, "Could it have been... Bubbles?"
Demyx looked over to his goldfish and gave it an incriminating look, completely emphasised by the ridiculous glasses.
Usually Zexion would probably find this amusing, but he fought the urge to smile ferociously. And he won. His amusement melted away before the onslaught of his annoyance, building in intensity until he was scowling at Demyx rather avidly.
"Oh, come now," Demyx reasoned, leaning back and grinning at him still. "My jokes aren't that bad. What's bothering you?"
Zexion considered that for a moment. Where did he start?
You, he wanted to say, but even the thought of hurting Demyx like that made his insides twist. "Everything," he said instead.
"Like what?"
"Like being an accidental murderer, and trying to stop my boss before he destroys the world, and having to deal with weird supernatural stuff I don't understand. And for sitting around uselessly all the time and..." he paused then, thinking, but then blundered on ahead anyway. "And I feel like I should feel guilty about not working at all this week, but I don't, and it all makes me feel like a terrible person overall."
"Psshh." Demyx waved it away. "You work way too hard, so you deserve a break. Remember that day you didn't turn up and they didn't even notice?"
Zexion was surprised that Demyx remembered him ranting about that one.
"Besides, you have a way more important task ahead of you," Demyx added, returning to the couch.
"What's that?"
"Helping me eat this ice cream." When Zexion glanced at him he was, in fact, holding a tub of ice cream. More than that, Demyx was smiling at him. When he didn't respond right away, Demyx spoke again. "You're not a terrible person, Zexion. You just think too much. You are, in fact, one of the best people."
Zexion was taken aback. His annoyance cracked, and Zexion fell into something rather akin to confusion. The simplicity of Demyx's optimism was so... refreshing. There was no doubt there, no frustration, and least of all no boredom. It was an intoxicating new window for Zexion's repressed genius. His intelligence had been squandered and wasted at Pleasantview Hospital, but if Demyx's outlook on life was anything to go by, then that hardly mattered.
But then, what did?
After taking the ice cream from Demyx, Zexion looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Well, Demyx mattered, for one. But what else? What was Demyx's goal in life? It felt like it would have been cheating to ask outright, but Zexion thought he knew the answer anyhow. Demyx liked to enjoy things; good or bad, Demyx stole the moment and made it something to be enjoyed. It would hardly win him the Nobel Peace Prize, but it had a certain appeal to it. Maybe this was what Zexion needed to get meaning out of his own life. Maybe... if he hung around Demyx more, he would find a way to enjoy even the parts of life he utterly hated.
And suddenly, Demyx's absurd silliness didn't seem so utterly annoying anymore.
Just as Zexion was considering this fact a little further Demyx made a comment he hadn't been expecting at all.
"That guy there reminds me of you." He was pointing at the television screen.
Zexion eyed Demyx sideways again, watching him smile goofily at the screen. That was a bit of proof for his observations right there; Zexion had never seen anyone just plain enjoy television so much. Then his mind did a double take. Was Demyx comparing him to the main character of the film?
Zexion couldn't help himself. He had to ask.
"Why?"
Demyx met his eye with a wide smile.
"Well for one thing he has crazy hair." Demyx barked laugh at the flat look Zexion gave him before continuing. "There's that, but then he's also the smartest character in the whole plot." He went back to smiling at the screen again. "You know, never making the obvious move. He figures out what everyone else is up to, he's always a mental step ahead of everyone else, even when the plot doesn't make sense to him." Demyx flicked him a brief grin once more. "Totally you."
Zexion very much refused to admit that he may have been blushing by that point.
After that, though, Zexion didn't mind Demyx's constant talking so much. In a stark contrast to dreading each comment, now he actually paid them a bit more attention. He wanted to know how these optimistic observations worked.
As luck would have it, something else dawned on Zexion in the process. He was enjoying Demyx's company. He wasn't just putting up with Demyx, nor enjoying him in small bursts, but he was finding some abstract value in it all. He'd been here for days now, and he actually wanted more Demyx time rather than less.
A few seconds later he noted a possible reason behind that last thought. It was unexpected, to say the least, but almost logical. If Demyx could get such a reaction out of him, then maybe... perhaps he was...
He became very aware of how close he was sitting to Demyx. It wasn't that close, in truth, but he suddenly wanted to sit just that much closer. He pondered on how to pull that off without actually seeming entirely obvious and slightly creepy in the process. Straight guys could totally sit close to each other, right? Mutual comfort was very much in the spectrum of normal heterosexual actions. Of course, he wouldn't really know. He assumed it was.
After a few minutes of fierce thought, he attempted to pretend that he was just casually shifting his sitting position and wriggled slightly closer to Demyx in the process.
As his knee struck Demyx's and he settled back on the couch, he realised that he'd sat much closer than he had intended. There was practically no space between them at all now, and all attempts to pretend that that hadn't been his intention were quickly thrown out the window. He blushed fiercely. He couldn't bring himself to quickly shift back though, as that'd give the immediate impression that he didn't actually want to be that close to Demyx, which he totally did. Trying to fight his blush, he peered at Demyx sideways to see whether Demyx had noticed the small war of turmoil that had erupted in his head.
To his astonishment, Demyx was entirely oblivious. Zexion inwardly sighed in relief.
Of course, Zexion was gay, but he was well aware that this made him absolutely no different from anyone else, and noting the unpredictable social attitude of some people towards such a thing, he had found no reason to tell absolutely anyone about it. There were no physical reasons to do such anyway. Psychological, perhaps, but he was not versed in psychology, being a doctor of the body and not the mind.
He was slightly outside his area of expertise here. There was nothing logical about emotions. They just ran rampantly in any which way they felt like, dragging people behind them like a train wreck. He figured it would be incredibly effective to just ignore them completely until some later date, tucking them away for a time where their lives weren't in peril and he had time to process them carefully.
And so he did. Or at least, he tried. It was wildly unsuccessful.
Hours later they were finally ready to go to the Masquerade Ball. Demyx's choice of costumes had been a bit of a surprise. For his own attire, Demyx had apparently gone for the 'obscure reference' choice; he was going as the goblin king. Grey tights and outlandish shirts abound. He'd even learned some trick that involved spinning small glass spheres in his hand.
At the other end of the interesting scale, Demyx had apparently gone with the 'physical pun' option for Zexion's costume; a dwarf. Not even a politically correct dwarf, but a full on armoured, ale drinking dwarf, complete with purple beard attachment and a small axe to carry around. It was an effort not to refuse wearing it on sheer principle. But on the bright side, at least it wasn't an oompa loompa.
The costumes weren't entirely complete, but he could hardly blame Demyx for that. He'd only had a few days notice, after all, and they were pretty darn good noting the lack of preparation time. Choosing to keep any objections completely to himself, Zexion patiently sat through the awkward pinning of material and rearranging of props before they both met the Demyx Grade Standard of Approval.
To his immense relief, they arrived at the hospital an entire hour early. The traffic had been surprisingly light, so they had made record time.
In all his contemplations over how Demyx's optimism truly worked, Zexion stumbled upon a fascinating idea. They were early, so perhaps they should use the circumstances to their advantage.
It was time to go snooping.
Demyx wasn't too happy with the prospect of Zexion ditching the costume so soon, but Zexion soothed him with the promise that he'd be back early enough for Demyx to help him back into it with time to spare. That had been the easy part. The hard part was convincing Demyx that he couldn't come along. One look at Demyx' spiked up hair was all it took to know how conspicuous he'd be at such a task. More importantly, Demyx was the worst liar in the entire world.
So Zexion set him up on a 'reconnaissance' mission in the staff coffee lounge. It was on the ground floor, a place that Zexion desperately hoped that no-one would even think of visiting on a night like tonight. Presuming he was right, Demyx would be both safely out of harm's way and unable to accidentally get in the way. It was perfect. Soon, he was freely roaming through the corridors of the thirteenth floor, alone and at ease. He'd never examined most of these rooms before – he'd never needed to – but now that he was at it he found most of them to be rather odd choices for a hospital floor. The meeting room was passable, and so was Xemnas' office, but what on earth would Xemnas do with his own private laboratory, or a room filled with white stone benches? The hospital's pharmacy and operating rooms were all on different floors, as was practically everything else the hospital could need, so what were these for? And there just so many rooms with nothing in them at all, like a tiny maze of empty space. It was more than a little bit creepy.
During a brief browse through Xemnas' office Zexion noticed the book that he had read last time was still out on the desk. Out of sheer curiosity he opened the front cover. He found himself looking at the list of names he had copied down last time, but this time a few of the blank spaces had been filled. He dug his copied version of the list out of his wallet – stored there for safekeeping, of course – and jotted down the new names. He didn't recognise any of them. He shut the book and placed the note back in his wallet. Then he continued his inspection of the mysterious rooms.
At one point Zexion almost stumbled right into a huge room that was fantastically well lit and completely decorated from ceiling to floor. He quickly assumed this was the hall where the ball would be taking place and avoided it; he didn't want to run into anyone just yet. Doubling back, Zexion darted into one of the side rooms just in case someone had spotted him. Unfortunately, he had walked straight back into the laboratory. It sounded innocuous enough, but the 'unfortunate' part was that there was now someone else in the room. Even worse, said person was staring straight at him.
A moment of silence passed slowly. Zexion barely breathed.
Finally the man spoke.
"Ah," he said, a look of recognition suddenly appearing on his gaunt face. "Number VI, I presume? Excellent. I had a hypothesis regarding your involvement."
Zexion tried his very best to hide his surprise. Act natural, he told himself, pretend you're exactly where you're supposed to be. He had no idea what the man was talking about, of course, but he didn't exactly have a lot of options.
Zexion cleared his throat and nodded, walking over to the nearest table. Trying to look indiscreet, he picked up a piece of paper and pretended to read it. After a moment, he did read it, starting half way down.
You're giving me too many things lately
You're all I need. You smiled at me and said...
It was at this point that Zexion realised his blunder. He must have blushed hideously, for he heard the other man laugh a low, creepy laugh. It made Zexion shudder.
"Yes, I had assumed the Superior had not told you much, otherwise you would have been at the meetings even after you had taken care of Roxas." Zexion latched onto that, hoping desperately to save his facade.
"Ah, yes," he said. "The uh... Superior has neglected to tell me the details of the plan." Silently Zexion was immensely proud of himself. It sounded vague enough to be precisely on topic.
More importantly, it worked. The gaunt man nodded, his dauntingly long yellow hair shifting slightly as he did so. "So I thought. But come now," he said, gesturing to a pair of chairs against a wall, "You are here, at least, so you know a small portion of the plan. Let me fill you in on the rest." He took a seat, waiting for Zexion to do the same before continuing.
Zexion slowly sat down, desperately hoping that he wasn't trapping himself in the process. What had the man said about Roxas?
"Erm, Roxas," Zexion began. "Yes. That was my task. But, uh... Well, I was only told that much. He said he'd tell me the rest later."
The other man nodded thoughtfully as if it all made sense. Zexion took a moment to take in his appearance. He wasn't overly tall, and was wearing a white scientist's coat. The roman numerals 'IV' were embroidered on the coat pocket, but that was the only unusual thing Zexion could seize on.
He took an inward breath and made a stab in the dark.
"What I've been wondering about," Zexion said carefully, leaning forward just a tad, "Is our objective. What are we trying to do?"
For a moment, Zexion thought he may have given himself away with the question, but the other man seemed to take his complete ignorance all in stride.
"If you don't know that much, then I should probably start at the very beginning." The man didn't seem very upset at that. In fact, he looked almost excited to have a chance to lecture somebody. "We are The Organization," he said, "Otherwise known as Organization XIII – or, at least, that's what we were called. I presume the name is still in use.
"Anyway," he continued, "Are you familiar with Plato's concept of reincarnation?" He didn't wait for Zexion to respond before continuing. "It would seem that it has some credit to it. We failed in the last life but, as the cycle of life goes, we were all reborn again, as all people are, with the same souls but without the memories." He gave Zexion a significant glance before continuing.
"Now, you see, we've been working under the assumption that the connections between hearts, or souls, are retained throughout multiple lives. Apparently we were right, and the connections can be manipulated into dragging forward knowledge and abilities from these previous lives. You may have noticed this already. Our powers are uncontrollable at first, as our heart must remember how they work, but with enough exposure to other powers from before we regain full control."
Zexion sat very still for a moment. A lot of things suddenly clicked into place. The sudden bouts invisibility worked fully in tandem with what this man was saying. Then Zexion remembered Demyx's strange encounter with water, both last night and in the days before hand. It was a chilling thought. Demyx must have been a part of this organization too.
"Yes, I thought that would catch your attention," the man said, sounding quite pleased with himself. "It's proven very effective so far. You see, I remember your efficiency. As a founding member, you are tied quite safely with us, and your knowledge is invaluable. The others, however," he added with a sour look, "are expendable. In true Organization fashion, we are making use of this. By 'murdering' the members VIII to XIV we violently tug on the connections between hearts. We are, essentially, pulling on a 'chain' of memories."
Zexion mentally froze. They were killing the members of their own organization? He suddenly felt very cold. What was he getting himself into? Zexion noted the number IV on his coat again. So, he was safe, and so was Zexion, but they were going to kill seven people?
"To what end?" he made himself ask, entirely unsure of whether he wanted the answer.
"Kingdom hearts," was the man's reply. He was grinning broadly now. "We were so close last time, so unbearably close. By tugging the chains of memory seven times over we will pull the common factor between us all firmly into our grasp. That common factor is the very goal of our organization, the aim of all we did last time around; the common factor is Kingdom Hearts, and this time it will be ours."
The other man's grin was sickly now, but Zexion couldn't look away.
"Fascinating, yes? Ah, but you see, I have a new hypothesis. I can't prove it yet, but it's still there nonetheless. We all knew each other before, yes? And we all know each other again, remembering more and more as the chains of memory tighten. However, I propose that these chains of memory may have... fabricated a few memories to help the synchronisation two separate lives."
Zexion's eyes shot wide open. "Such as?" he asked, very much fearing he already knew what he meant.
"Well, we all remember other members of the organization in our lives previous to this last week, but did we really know each other? Perhaps we didn't, and our minds just inserted the memories to make the whole situation more believable. Perhaps we haven't met in this life at all before this month."
Zexion felt cold. If this man was right, did that mean... If Demyx and himself were both part of this Organization in a past life, then was it possible that they had never actually known each other in this life at all? Was their friendship was entirely a false memory brought about by his killing of Roxas? It seemed absurd, but if it was true...
The possibility lingered in his mind. Perhaps it was true, perhaps it wasn't. Could he live a false life, completely knowing it was false at the time? Another option presented itself. He could forsake it all and join the Organization, where he had been before.
A long silence followed where Zexion avidly tried to process this information. He didn't want to be here, not in the middle of this... whatever this was. He wanted to run. Luckily for him, the other man swept to his feet, brushing off his coat in the process.
"That's all I have time for at the moment, but there will be plenty of time to discuss this during the ball." His face wrinkled in dissatisfaction. "I still cannot believe Xemnas has us wearing costumes, of all things! Why, if I had my way..."
The man left the room murmuring to himself. Zexion near bolted for the other door, but he forced himself to walk, calmly. He traced his steps back to the elevator and jammed on the button that would take him back to Demyx.
The creepy blonde man had been so convinced of his plan; both of its success and of Zexion's involvement. It had Zexion feeling quite jumpy. It wasn't so much that they wanted him to be part of their group, but more that he could almost remember being part of their group. The option was rising tantalizingly close in his mind. Theoretically, he could join them. He could join the Organization and presumably regain his past memories, all his past abilities, and gain access to this... this Kingdom Hearts thing. He didn't know what that was, but it sounded powerful.
The option was more tempting than Zexion would have admitted out loud. The sheer power of the promise beckoned to him. He had always been neglected, his genius ignored, but if he joined the Organization... it would be everything he had ever wanted and more. It would involve murder, sure, but it would give him power.
That's what reason was telling him, but for a wonder his heart was disagreeing. The thought of Demyx tugged at him very strongly, like an anchor to his heart. Somehow he knew that Demyx wouldn't approve of what The Organization was planning to do, and by extension Zexion felt like he was obliged towards the same opinion. Demyx must have been a member of the Organization last time as well, but the Demyx that Zexion knew would never kill someone in the pursuit of power. It might be out of sheer laziness rather than goodwill, but it was true all the same. Should he abandon Demyx for the Organization? The very thought made him ache. No, even if he did theoretically decide that murder was worth it, Zexion didn't think he could bring himself to leave Demyx behind.
Demyx simply meant too much to him. The Organization might offer him a place to belong, but Demyx had already beaten them to it. Even if his memories of Demyx were false, did that really matter? Their current friendship was no fabrication, and that was all that Zexion really needed to believe. Demyx was real. He didn't need to prove himself to Demyx, he had no obligations or mission to fulfil. Demyx simply liked Zexion for who he was, and that was something he did not remember ever having before – this life or not. For him, Demyx was home.
Besides, the man could be completely wrong. His memories of Demyx could be completely real..
He left the elevator smiling softly to himself. Yes, he would stay with Demyx. The very idea of it made him happier than he would have thought. Was his heart beat always so audible? He hadn't noticed that before.
He found Demyx in the staff lounge, waiting for him. When he walked in Demyx looked up at him and instinctively broke into a grin, making Zexion even more aware of his abnormally loud heartbeat. What a curious symptom. He had never heard of that one before.
At Demyx's behest, Zexion expounded all he had done; all his snooping and his extended chat with this mysterious number 'IV'. The goals of the Organization were a little harder to explain, but Zexion got there in the end. He told Demyx everything, or almost everything. He withheld two things. He left out the man's theory that suggested that they might not have been friends before this week, and he definitely left out the part where he had considered joining their 'organization'.
Demyx took it all in stride. He frowned notably at their intention of murder, but he took the crazy explanation with a remarkable amount of open mindedness. Once Zexion was finished, Demyx whistled.
"Wow," he said. "That's quite... well, wow."
Zexion quite agreed. It was quite a lot to take in.
"Tell you what though," Demyx mused, leaning back in the armchair he was lounging in, "it does make quite a bit of sense. About the powers and stuff, I mean. None of it had happened before this week, so maybe Roxas really did kick something off."
Zexion rubbed his chin. "Do you remember being part of the Organization?"
Demyx frowned. "I think... well, I remember a whole bunch of black coats, but that's about it. And that could be anything, really."
Suddenly something clicked in Zexion's mind, a large resounding click that shot through his brain like lightning. He pulled out his wallet, digging out the list of names he had copied out of Xemnas' book. The top of the page was headed by the quote he had written down last time.
What the mind forgets, the heart knows.
Hearts - ever connected - resonate with each other, reminding the body of what it once knew.
Connected to all hearts and resonating with them all: Kingdom Hearts.
The first bit made more sense now; it was what he had heard from the scientist in a nut shell. Demyx was leaning over his shoulder, reading the note too. The second part, however, was chilling to read.
Maximillion Xemnas: The Superior
Xigbar Capes: The Freeshooter
Xaldin Gustav: The Whirlwind Lancer
Vexen Froid: The Chilly Academic
Lexaeus Stonewall: The Silent Hero
Zexion Green: The Cloaked Schemer
Saïx Arte: The Luna Diviner
Axel Chaud: The Flurry of Dancing Flames
Marluxia Clavelle: The Graceful Assassin
Larxene Surge: The Savage Nymph
Roxas Cain: The Key of Destiny
Xion Roberson: The Failure
The scientist had been number IV, giving him the name 'Vexen'. It all made sense now; all the names he recognised and those he didn't. The first seven names, his included, were safe. They were the murderers. The rest... well, they were in danger of being killed off systematically. The last two names had been crossed out in Xemnas' version; so Xion had been first, whoever that was, and then it had been Roxas. The next in the chain would follow it from the bottom up, but there were still names missing.
Demyx's name, however, wasn't there. Perhaps they hadn't remembered him yet? It would explain that much.
Ever so slowly, it occurred to Zexion that the only free slots on the list were Demyx could have gone were all after number VIII. Demyx was on the half of the list that was going to be murdered.
The weight of this dawned on Zexion piece by piece. He would have to protect Demyx from likely-insane geniuses with supernatural powers, all of which were likely right in this building at this very moment or would be very soon.
"Zexion," Demyx said suddenly, looking at his watch. "It's time for the ball."