Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. This is a not-for-profit fanwork.

XXIX.

The Mock-up

Demyx knew this. Still, anxiety jittered in his throat. "How?"

"It's a fairly routine process," Even explained. "Obviously, we will not inflict physical harm against you, as that would be counterproductive."

"And inhumane," Ienzo cut in.

Even waved dismissively. "Simply put, we will tell you what we feel you need to know, and then we will question you about it."

"You have to know these things by heart," Leon said. "So… if the pressure gets to you, you're not thinking of these things on the fly, and your answers will be consistent."

Ienzo crossed his arms tightly. He looked like he was holding himself together. "The hope is that complete submission will not cause you undue harm. But… we must be prepared."

Demyx felt strangely disembodied. "Sure."

"Let's start now," Leon said.

They went into the depths of the castle, down where there were no windows. As they walked, Ienzo squeezed Demyx's forearm briefly, but reassuringly. A small room. A few chairs were brought. He sat.

They spent the first day telling him all he would need to know. Some of it was lies, and some of it was in-between. Made up attack plans on the vessels. Made up information about Sora's whereabouts and his mission. Stuff about the town, where its heart was kept, how the committee kept it protected. They made him repeat the information back to them, word perfect, over and over again.

The second day they began easing him into it for real. He was woken in the middle of the night and ushered to the room. No food. No water. He wasn't even granted bathroom breaks.

"You'll be kept uncomfortable, if not worse," Even said. "You'll have to learn to be clearheaded despite it."

It would go like this for hours, until the fatigue and the thirst and the hunger had him halfway dizzy and his tongue would hurt from talking so much. Normally he was good at remembering things, but whenever Even would pose a question, all the discomforts in his body would choke and distract him until Even would repeat the question again.

"You won't get a second chance," Ienzo said. "Speed and efficiency is the key here."

"It'll probably come across as more genuine if he seems scared," Leon said after another hours-long session. Ienzo handed Demyx a glass of ice water and touched his shoulder briefly as if to apologize. "He has to seem desperate enough to fess up."

The more time Demyx spent with these people—all of them, in the castle, in the town—the more he was conscious about the fact that he may lose them for good. Or that something else might happen to them after this battle. He knew little about the X-blade, but he'd garnered enough to realize that it could cause the end of everything. Something in him had shattered. Maybe it was the illusion of peace.

"But not overly so," Even said. "There has to be enough of some kind of determination or self-preservation to warrant a double-cross. You have to be cold towards us," he said to Demyx. "You never cared, you were using us. You thought we could save you, but the tides have turned. You understand?"

Demyx nodded.

"We all need to take a break," Ienzo said.

"There will be no breaks once he gets there," Leon reminded. "They're not going to be humane."

"Even so," Ienzo said. "We're all exhausted, and there are other things we all need to attend to."

He felt his days running through his fingertips. It was nearly impossible to sleep. He would toss and turn, snatching a few minutes or hours at a time. He spent these night hours with the sitar, writing disjointed songs. It didn't do much to ease the anxiety.

What little free time left he spent with Yuffie. Often their time together was unnervingly common; he'd accompany her on patrol, or go food shopping with her, or they'd just go to one of her quiet places and talk. The conversations were deliberately not serious because neither of them could bear it. He realized that he didn't even really know her, and he probably wouldn't get the chance to.

"…I love the fall," Yuffie said one afternoon at the overlook. The weather was only just beginning to turn, bringing a dank chill during the night. "The colors. The smells. Back before the world fell there was an equinox celebration every year. There was this one old woman who would make sweet buns, with these candied radish stars." She held her fingers slightly apart to show the size. "It was this old, old tradition passed down from geezer to geezer. She died in the fall of the world, though. Aerith and I tried to make them once, but they… weren't the same." She leaned back against the wall and drew her knees to her chest.

"I think about that a lot," Demyx said. "All the stuff that must have been lost. And I don't mean through darkness, but that happens. I mean like time. There were people that existed thousands and thousands of years ago, and they must have made music and art and stories and everything, but it all just sort of gets forgotten. Or someone dies, and there it goes. Gone forever. I want to stop things getting lost." He lay back and breathed the fresh air. That same canvas was still there, snapping in the breeze. "This is the place we first made out."

"You were terrified."

"You are kind of scary."

She nudged him with her foot. "You've lost a lot," she said.

"This isn't about me. I mean, everyone has." He realized that, laying against the cool stone, he was a little cold for the first time in months.

"I'm going to miss you," she said. Before he could come up with something to say that wasn't depressing, she continued. "Will you play that song you wrote for me again? I want to memorize it."

"…Of course."

One more day.

He woke early, took a hot bath. When he left the bathroom, Even was waiting for him with a pair of scissors and a businesslike expression.

"What are those for?" Demyx asked.

"Your hair, your hair," Even said. "It's been bothering me for weeks. You think I'm letting you into the wild looking like that?" He brought him back into the bathroom in front of the very old long mirror. For a while—as the sun rose—Even trimmed at the sides, the ends, until Demyx saw a shadow of his old hairstyle emerge. "I'm afraid I've nothing for you to style it with," he said. "But it's better than it was."

"Thank you," he said. He knew this was Even's way of showing kindness.

"Well, you can thank me by coming back. And with valuable information!" He smiled suddenly, but it felt forced and theatrical.

Demyx returned to his room to pack. He was so panicked now he was strangely calm, above it all. He had one small knapsack but doubted he would even be able to fill it. The knife, obviously. Some clothes. The piano book was too big. He had nothing that was important to him, even after all this time; he had the two small lilac cloths that Luxord's Somebody had given him, and the blue handkerchief that Aerith's cookies had been wrapped in months ago. He slipped one of each into his pocket.

"…There's no point packing," Ienzo said from the doorway. He had a dark package in his arms. "They'll take everything from you. Especially that knife."

Demyx took it off his waist. He realized that he had grown attached to it, not because Lea had given it to him, but because it had helped return the music to him. Ienzo reached out for it, but he shook his head. "Can you wait to give it to him? Until after?"

"Reasonable." Ienzo paused, and frowned. "I'm sorry about lying to you in the beginning."

"I know why you had to do it." Silence hung densely and heavily. "What's that?" Before he finished the question he already knew.

"…Your cloak," Ienzo said timidly. "I kept it. I mended it. You'll need it to travel by corridor." He offered the cloak to Demyx. "Lea will make one for you later. You remember the plan?"

"I'm leaving early tomorrow morning. He'll send me on to the World that Never Was. I'll find the castle and turn myself in." Still, he didn't take the coat until Ienzo offered it a second time.

The bodice had been partially ripped to shreds. Despite being repaired by magic, thin ripples of scars battered the soft fabric, barely visible in the bright summer light. He'd forgotten what one of these cloaks felt like against the skin; they looked tough and leathery, but they were soft, the fabric malleable, waterproof, and very warm. The pants were there, too. Demyx stared at them, reviled by them. He reached down next to his dresser and retrieved the boots as well.

"Nine, I realize things have been difficult," Ienzo said. He had looked down. "But I have come… to think of you as a friend of mine. I will not be escorting you tonight. I hope you understand." He was teary, Demyx realized with a jolt.

"Ienzo… I care about you, too." He was getting choked up already; his calm starting to shatter.

Ienzo squeezed him once, abruptly, around the waist, and then left the room very quickly. Demyx made the rounds very slowly. First, he went to see Cid and Merlin down at Merlin's house. He was feeling blurry and unreal. Merlin smiled kindly and shook his hand. Cid, however, embraced him in a crushing hug that, like Ienzo's, was over far too soon.

"You better come back to us, you bastard," Cid said. "You know how boring it'll be without you? Nobody to beat me at cards?"

Leon and Aerith were next. Aerith's expression was tight and drawn, but she did not cry.

"Lea will be escorting you to the point of exodus," Leon said. "You remember the plan?"

"As much as I ever will," Demyx said numbly.

Leon's expression softened. "Thank you, for all of this," he added. "For your work on the town." He squeezed both of Demyx's hands. "Aerith, give it to him."

She held out a small pink and blue card. Demyx took it, barely able to read it. "We decided to make you a member of the committee, if you'll have us," she said. "Even if you remember your home world… you can always call this place home."

The tears he'd been keeping at bay all day broke free and he hugged her, hugged both of them, to try and convey what this meant to him.

It had been a long day of saying goodbye. There was one left.

Yuffie arrived quietly. For a while they sat in silence on his bed, hands tightly clasped. She noticed the black cloak folded neatly on the chair near the bed. "This is really happening."

"I know."

She kissed him gently. "Please try to come back."

He pulled her close. "I'll do everything I can."

Her hand trailed the collar of his shirt. "But you can't promise anything."

"No." He sighed. "Will you stay with me? Until tomorrow?"

"Of course."

They made love, but it was less a gesture of passion and more one of comfort, of solace. It took a while, and it was dark by the time they were through. She nodded off soon afterward, her head against his chest, snoring softly. He didn't plan on sleeping, ans was surprised when it happened anyway. When he woke the light coming through the window was gray and thin. Yuffie was still asleep. He kissed her cheek, slipped on some underclothes. Gathered his cloak. Bathed and dressed in the shallow light and then stood at the mirror for a long time. "…Déjà vu," he said. His hair wasn't quite the same, and the fabric of his coat was battered with stitches. But he might as well have been going off on another Organization mission.

He met Lea in the town square. As he waited, he smoked the last of the cigarettes he had won off Cid. He saw Lea approaching from far off, his Keyblade drawn.

"Hey," Demyx said. The word was half smoke. "Look, I'm sorry about—"

"Don't worry about it. I probably would have done the same," Lea said briskly. He faked a smile. "Look at you, huh? Nice hair."

"Even did it."

"Talking about playing hero."

"Not even." He stubbed out the cigarette butt.

Lea's face softened, became morose. "No need to waste time," he said. I'll send you through the corridor at the outskirts of the World that Never Was. If you can help it, don't fight or use your powers while inside. They'll know."

Now that the moment had come, Demyx was strangely calm again, even though his heart clanged in his ears.

"You'll have to pretend you made the corridor yourself," Lea continued.

"Yes. I know."

"They might ask you to prove it. You might have to try. Get a message to me if you're ever able to," Lea said. "Tell one of the Dusks, or Nobodies—a Dancer—to leave it by the old wrecked truck. Be vague and cipher it. You remember how?"

He nodded. "What code should I use?"

Lea smiled. "'Seashell.'"

"It's time, isn't it," Demyx said.

Lea nodded. "I think so." He lifted his hand to open the corridor.

"Thank you," he said. "For everything. For… for listening."

"Yeah. Don't mention it."

"Roxas would be proud of you," Demyx said. "He really would." He hugged Lea, quickly, tightly, and Lea tensed a moment. Demyx pulled away.

"Don't get all emotional on me now," he said with a hint of lightness. Demyx heard the corridor rip into being. "I'll see you on the other side."

And Demyx stepped into darkness.