Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. This is a non-profit fan work.

VII.

Renewed

"Again."

He was tired. No, that wasn't the word for it. Exhausted, gross, frustrated beyond belief; Demyx wasn't sure how much more he could take of this. "It's not going to work. We've been at this for hours." The sun was high in the sky, and it was especially hot outside of the cavern in the rocky expanse. He hadn't yet had anything to eat or drink all day, and it seemed like the dryness in his mouth was soul-deep.

"Was I unclear, Nine? Again." Even gestured with his shield again. "If I did not think it was possible, would I be wasting our time?"

That was the closest thing to encouragement he'd heard yet. Between the heat and the strain—which in itself was odd, physically he wasn't doing much more than standing—he felt slightly faint. Maybe if he blacked out he could give up. But knowing Even, he would just revive him and force him to continue on; if so just to see what would happen.

Demyx tried to do what he wanted. The task itself was simple; strike the shield with water. But between his old injuries, his discomfort, the sheer dryness of the area and the heat of the day, it was almost impossible. Demyx wasn't drawing water out of thin air. It was there, hundreds of meters below ground. He couldn't say there hadn't been any progress made. He hadn't been able to feel that body of water before coming here, and now he could. The distant odd tingling just made him antsy.

Part of the problem came from the fact that he had never been taught to use his powers originally; he just sort of had, instinctively and effortlessly, like moving a hand. He'd been taught how to use other unrelated spells, but this? He knew it had something to do with some sort of pull, that there was some sort of accompanying pressure he would be able to feel. But for Demyx it had always been hard to manually wield water without the presence of his sitar, and who knew if—or when—she would return. He lowered his hands.

"Unless you are in unbearable pain, we must continue," Even said.

"I can't do this." The words fell at his feet. "Look, we've been trying, but what if I just can't get my powers back? What if they're like my memories, and they're just gone?" The agitation was as hot and sticky as the sweat on his skin.

"Your memories are returning. Therefore, your powers must be able to return as well. It's simple logic that I believe even you are capable of." Even let his shield disappear and approached him. A crystal of ice appeared in his palms. "Hold this."

He let the crystal fall into Demyx's bare hands. It was frigid—far below freezing—and even in the heat it burned. He gasped out loud.

"Don't drop it."

"Or what?" Demyx asked.

Even seized his wrists. For an old man, he was surprisingly strong. "Feel the weight of it, the composition. Water is not much different. You are in pain. You are uncomfortable, frustrated. Use that frustration to feel out the shape of the molecule. Use the water in your own body, your own blood. I should not have to tell you these things!"

The ice was so cold that his eyes were watering. He focused on the pain, trying to listen to his body and his blood and all the other bullshit.

"Do you want to get frostbite?" Even snapped. "You don't have much time."

He was starting to feel feverish and dizzy. He swooned but did not fall; Even's grip prevented that. His voice sounded far away; he could still feel his hands burning.

"Good. Nine, follow it. Follow it and do not let go."

He wasn't in the fissures anymore, but in some sort of space that was made out of nothing at all, not even darkness. He drifted through it, not sure what to look for or what to follow, exactly. Something burned. He traced the source of the pain; it ran deeper than he'd anticipated. There were no shapes, no items, not even feelings or memories, but at some point Demyx bumped into something smooth and elastic. He reached for it and pulled, but it fought back. It didn't want to come with him and stung where he touched it. He pulled harder. Dug in his heels. He threw his whole being into it.

It snapped and he flew back into consciousness. He fell against Even. His lungs were burning and he struggled for air.

His hands were wet.

He looked down. There were white splotches on his palms from the ice, but he saw on the ground through dizzy eyes a puddle of water. He met Even's eyes, tasting nausea more than feeling it.

"Acceptable," he said.

"Can I take a break? Please?"

Even assented, and lowered him to the ground.

Demyx put his head in his hands. His hands were no longer hurting; in fact the skin was completely healed. His whole body was cramping. So much was flickering through him all at once. His powers were back. His powers were back. It was something he just knew. It was fact.

But because they were back it didn't mean things were easy.

Like a muscle, if powers were unused they became weak. He had to build his strength.

The rest of the afternoon they worked tirelessly. Demyx picked things up at a rapid clip, but it was all so much harder than it used to be. He could find and draw from local water sources. Most painstaking was learning how to manipulate it. Before, with his sitar, he'd barely had to do more than think of what he wanted before it happened, whereas now he struggled to get the water into a ball.

Not only that, but all the other subsidiary benefits of his powers had yet to return. Before, his powers had kept him consistently hydrated unless he was seriously injured or wounded. He'd been able to keep himself cool in warm environments, breathe underwater, and neutralize most toxins. But today… none of that seemed to apply.

Even finally allowed him to call it the end of the day when the sunlight started to turn pink. "You've made astounding progress," he said, and he actually smiled.

He was faint from hunger and exhaustion, but at the same time he wanted to keep pushing himself. I'm almost onto something. I know it.

Even patted his shoulder. "I think you need to rest," he said. "After all, there's still work to be done."

Food, water, and a shower improved things dramatically. He fell almost immediately deeply asleep. There were more fragments of things, but there was no death and no fire.

A woman singing a song in a language he could not understand. It was a lullaby—a nocturne. She was the blonde/brunette/redhead. He held her hand and looked way, way up at her. They walked through the tall grass together.

Night. An open bright sky and more stars than anyone could imagine. The smell of wool. Being warm. Being safe.

The word came to him before he was even fully conscious. Maybe he said it as he woke up.

Mom?

Nobody answered. His room was empty and small. Moreover, Demyx hurt all over.

Was that really…

Of course, he knew he hadn't sprung out of thin air. He had to have been born. But for some reason… he had never thought of having parents. Had never thought of being close to them. The woman he'd seen had been his mother. He got the idea that they'd been going somewhere. But where?

A deep bittersweetness filled him from head to toe. He found he didn't mind the soreness as he got up; it suited his mood. No dad, or other mom, or siblings. He was pretty sure that was how it had been. Pretty sure. But he couldn't be totally certain, and that was annoying. An itch he couldn't scratch.

Today Even didn't make him leave so horribly early, and he let him have breakfast. "You had to be under a good deal of stress," he explained to Demyx, who was hardly listening. "Not unduly so, but if you were comfortable and content there was no way you'd be willing to dig deep. You had to appeal to—ah—more primal reasoning."

Whatever. Wasn't too much stress supposed to be bad for him and all?

"I admit I was a bit dubious," he said. "But… you exceeded my expectations. And you are in one piece. It looks like Ienzo was wrong."

What did that even mean? "Wrong about what?"

"He believed that pushing you in that way could aggravate your… ah… condition." They stepped outside. "Your memories have been returning with very few ill effects. I had reason to believe that this would help you instead of hurt you. He disagreed."

"Did he," Demyx said dryly. "You guys talk about me an awful lot, huh."

Even's eyes gleamed. "It's fascinating to us, as scientists. And of course we want you to be whole."

He shrugged. "Sure."

"I admit I was pessimistic, at first. And there is still a good deal of risk involved. But I think that you might just be all right." The mathematical glee with which he said it made Demyx uncomfortable.

"Can we… change the subject?"

In terms of effort and fatigue that day and the next three were more or less the same. He was getting better—using his powers was getting easier—but at the end of the day he was incredibly tired and when he slept he was dead to the world. By the end of the week Demyx was in considerably better shape; he could manipulate the water with ease, though he definitely had limits. There was no limitless energy like there had been before. He was pretty sure that any use of his power burned straight from his metabolism, making him drained and weak after a while. Ethers helped, but they were expensive and using too many at once made him sick.

After that he didn't have much more of an excuse. He had to get to work for the committee. They sent a message for him and told him to meet one of them at the main entrance to the castle. He packed himself a small lunch and felt a lot like a little kid going to school. Now play nice with the others, and make friends, he imagined someone telling him. Doubtful that he would. He wouldn't mind working with Aerith, but if he got stuck with Yuffie…

Most of the time they used the service entrance, and early that first morning Demyx had to fight his way to the actual front. He got lost a few times. There was a map, but the map couldn't account for fallen pipes and collapsed passages. He was running considerably later than he'd intended when he finally got there and found Leon with a toolbox. Already the other man looked exasperated.

"I'm sorry," Demyx said breathlessly. "The castle is really a mess, and I got lost…"

"It's all right," Leon said tersely. "You're ready? Let's go." Demyx followed him into an older and decrepit part of town. "Nobody's lived here for over ten years," he explained. "When the world fell to darkness, a lot of the town was damaged or destroyed. You'll be working mostly on aqueducts and the reservoir. You'll most likely be working with someone else. The two of you will make any physical fixes you can, and then you can reroute the water sources. We might have to construct them from the ground up. It really depends. Cid's trying to put together a map now of places we know we can work with."

He nodded. "So… like… you must think it's interesting. Working with old Organization members," he said, as an attempt at conversation.

"I have no reason to distrust any of you. You've all been very helpful." But no change in his expression. "But I guess it's interesting, yes."

He shrugged. "Well, I was just wondering, because I know that… others… might not be as okay with it."

The shadow of a smile. "I'm guessing Yuffie talked to you?"

Demyx shrugged.

"We can't exactly afford to be picky about our allies," Leon said at last. "And don't worry about her. She won't actually hurt you. She'll come around." He looked out towards the staircase they'd just come down. "In fact, there she is now."

Here I am, live from another country. Hopefully things should be a bit more steady from here on out.