Title: Mission Impossible
Author: Ladya C. Maxine
Rating: T
Summary: see chapter one
Warnings: see chapter one
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of its characters. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.
How?
That's all Roxas wanted to know: How?
How the heck had things managed to go from bad to worse?
How was it that, after having to wait over an hour before the Superior finally returned in such a dark mood that it the perky sole Shadow that had been nipping at the end of Roxas' coat plummeting to its death from the stairs, Roxas's day had still managed to find a deeper hole to spiral down into?
The Superior wasn't a happy person, but he had emerged in about as bad a mood as Saix had, prompting Roxas' earlier suspicions to rear their gossiping heads. Really, had there been a fight between those two—? No way. A fight is, essentially, a disagreement. Saix never disagreed with the Superior. That went against his instincts, along with smiling and being able to take a joke.
Not daring to ask whether the mission had been a success, Roxas had meekly followed the Superior back to the castle. The heavy books he had been burdened with seemed to imply that the Superior had found what he'd been looking for, but if Saix had handed them to Roxas hours earlier, what had the Superior been up to? Maybe the Superior had failed to find answers in the Bastion, in spite of his high expectations.
All in all, it had been a weird mission, and Roxas had been very happy to step foot back inside the castle, where he eagerly gave the books to the Superior without being asked and watched as their leader strode off. The relief had been short-lived, though. One second Roxas had been enjoying the gloom-free environment, the next he was staring up at Xigbar's grinning the face, followed by a yank, a dash down a Corridor of Darkness, and a sudden stop in The Laboratory That Used To Go BOOM A Lot, now known as The Basement of Dusty Doom (Roxas suspected Axel had been dying to use that one for some time).
Which brings back the question: how?
It had been a suggestion. One little suggestion meant to break the ice; to have them accept him into their little group. He hadn't meant it to be taken this seriously. He'd never expected it to snowball into this gigantic mess. And he certainly hadn't expected what was now being expected of him from the four Nobodies smiling down at him. Standing next to Xigbar Demyx had the decency to look apologetic, though he was also looking scared: whatever his role was in this latest catastrophe, he had Roxas' sympathy.
"No."
"What 'no'? This was your idea, Roxas," Axel said, as though he could trick Roxas into taking full responsibility for this twisted dating game.
"No." Roxas turned on his friend, eyes narrowed. "My idea was reasonable. My idea was subtle. My idea did not include spreading viruses!"
"So we might have deviated a bit—"
"A bit?! It's dangerous and irresponsible!"
"We're all in on this."
"I'm not going to spread some … some … rotting vegetation all over my body!"
"It didn't leave any long-time ill effects on Vexen," Axel tried to reason.
"How do you know, huh? Maybe he came up with a cure in secret. Maybe he was feeling a lot worse than he let on. He was always squirreled away down here; how do you know this stuff never affected him?"
"Roxas has got a point," Luxord mused, stroking his goatee.
"He does, doesn't he?" Xaldin said.
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"HEY!! LET ME GO!!"
"It's great to see a plan come together, eh, Demyx?" Axel asked the Nocturne, who was standing as far away from the table and its ominous vials of lumpy algae as possible.
Eyes wide as he watched Luxord and Xaldin strip poor Roxas until he was half-naked, Demyx gulped.
"Y-Yeah, s-s-s-sure…"
"Yuck! This is disgusting!" Roxas cried when Xaldin began pouring on the gravy-like substance onto his shoulders and back. "Not the face! Not the face!"
"Tsk-tsk, Lil' Dude. You're not going to be one of those difficult patients for Dr Xigbar, are ya?" Xigbar, wearing a lab coat and carrying a clipboard, sashayed into the room (Roxas couldn't remember him leaving in the first place, but then again, it was Xigbar: logic needn't apply). Standing next to Xaldin, who had pinned Roxas down on the cold table, Xigbar cautiously wiped away some of the gooey substance with a gloved hand and made a satisfied sound. "Perfect."
Wrenching himself free, and almost liberating his arm from its socket in the process, Roxas stumbled to the nearest metallic supply closet and turned around. Tiny red bumps were already spreading across his skin from under the algae. A tingling sensation, which was quickly becoming an incapacitating itch, was starting to trickle down his spine and into his legs.
"I hate you all," he scowled at the others.
"It's all for the greater good," Axel said, sitting on a stool as Luxord dabbed his upper body with the itchy goo.
"I want you all to burn in hell and I'll want front row seats," Roxas insisted, devastated that, no matter how he turned, he'd never be able to reach the centre of the itch.
"You two get going," Xaldin snarled at Xigbar and Demyx, smearing in his own arms. "And don't cock up or I'll wash your mouths with this stuff."
"And I'd have a pitchfork too. A flaming hot one, which I'd use to jab you in the eyes," Roxas continued to swear as his neck and cheeks turned red and bumpy. "This really itches! It's driving me nuts!"
Axel was beginning to scratch now and Roxas smugly noticed that the redhead no longer seemed so smug with this plan of his.
"Damn, what was Vexen thinking, making this sludge?" Axel wondered out loud.
"I'm pretty sure," Xaldin said through gritted teeth as he fought the urge to scratch, "that, up until you scared the daylights out of him, he'd been in the middle of a much more productive experiment."
"I say!" Luxord exclaimed as the first effects of the algae finally started to assault his senses. Instead of breaking out into hives, his eyes were beginning to get puffy and he was sweating.
"Ha ha ha!" Axel laughed, only to be overwhelmed by a vicious itch on his lower back. "Dammit!"
"So then, call this idea a success?" Xigbar, growing more and more gleeful at their sacrifice and his non-blotchy, non-itchy state of being, asked. "Shit, almost forgot to take pictures! Where's the camera?"
While everyone else was preoccupied with scratching, shivering, cursing and shaking (that last one would be Demyx), Roxas plunked himself down on the floor, feeling very miserable. The itch was now spreading south and he'd be damned if he scratched himself there in front of everyone.
"You'll thank me someday," Axel said, plopping down next to him. One of his eyes were twitching uncontrollably.
Clenching his legs together to try to squish the itch down there, Roxas folded his arms and dug his nails into his skin, partially to not scratch, partially to not strangle Axel. It was the first time they'd been alone since Axel's little drunken rant, and the redhead seemed to have forgotten all about it. Still, when he slung a hand around Roxas sensitive shoulders the blond squirmed, mostly because the feel of sticky, rash-covered skin on his was not appealing in the least.
"You know this is a stupid idea, right?" he asked.
Axel looked around them. Xaldin seemed to have lost all control of his limbs. Xigbar was eagerly snapping away with the camera he'd stolen from a now camera-less photographer from another world, cackling like a hyena. Luxord, practically blind, was feeling his way around the room. Demyx was doing his best to avoid touching anything. The rest preoccupied, Axel gave Roxas a mischievous grin.
"Between you and me, it's the dumbest idea I've ever had. Isn't it great?"
"Is … your hair falling?" Roxas noticed, hesitant to voice his observation.
"WHAT?!"
Xemnas hadn't been sitting behind his desk for more than fifteen minutes when he felt it: a presence. He looked around him for anything new and unwelcoming, like an spying enemy, or a stink bomb, or Axel. Nothing had been moved or added since last he'd been in here. But his instincts were always dead accurate so, putting down his pen with an annoyed grunt, he got to his feet.
He waited warily, but the Voice remained silent.
If it weren't the Voice, then what was it? He couldn't pinpoint where to investigate. Not that he'd lost track of whatever it was; on the contrary, now that he wasn't focused on his calculations, his senses were being assaulted by this thing, and it was coming at him from every direction. Wherever he looked it was there, yet there was nothing. He tried scanning the office. Nothing. It felt as if this influence was coming from the very structure of the room.
"Curious," he mumbled, slowly approaching a window.
Outside the neon streets dazzled under the black sky. But there wasn't anything out of the ordinary out there. The wall right next to the window, however … was bare. Yet still, he found himself staring at it for a long time.
"Very curious. What is this feeling? Some higher power? A new experiment I have not been told of? Perhaps returning to the Bastion affected me more than I thought it would … Could it be my Saix—!"
Xemnas took one big step back, eyes wide.
Senses. He'd meant to say senses, not Saix. Why had that name popped into his mind so suddenly? A slip of the tongue? But he'd been talking to himself; how could he have misspoken when he was speaking his private thoughts to himself? Was it the Voice? No, he would have recognized it otherwise. These had been entirely his own thoughts.
'Perhaps my senses have indeed been affected,' he thought, no longer daring to speak out loud lest his treacherous tongue betrayed his mind again. 'I can find nothing amiss in this office, this sanctuary. The sights and smells of the old Bastion must have interfered with my rational thoughts. It will pass soon enough … '
"Sir."
Xemnas didn't even blink, despite his second-in-command's sudden appearance on the ceiling directly above him. It was unusual to be addressed as such by the Freeshooter, who conducted himself with as much formality as a 5-year-old with a sailor's mouth and sniper's aim, but even this wasn't enough to garner more than a brief glance from Xemnas. On a better note, it appeared he wouldn't have to deal with any more drunkards.
"Xigbar," he acknowledged before returning to scrutinizing the wall. What in the name of hearts was so interesting about a plain wall? "And to what do I owe this visit?" he asked with not much interest.
A shadow appeared high above him on the wall. Turning his eyes upwards, he was met with a sombre face. As if that weren't enough, he noted that Xigbar was wearing his lab coat, which hadn't seen the light of day (or the outside of the closet, anyway) ever since Vexen had taken complete control of all research. Xigbar had given up his position as head scientist without a fight, as it had left him with more time to spend on rooftops throughout the city, picking off Shadows with his guns. The return of the white lab coat, and Xigbar grave look, earned the Freeshooter Xemnas' full attention.
"Who died?" he asked. "Or what object of great importance has been destroyed beyond repair?" He instinctively looked up at the sky, but of course Kingdom Hearts was still there in all its incomplete magnificence.
"There's a virus on the loose."
Xemnas lowered his guard, not too concerned.
"And why should this concern us? We both know that we cannot get Sa—ill."
Wait, what?! Had he almost said 'Saix' again? One time had been a slip of the tongue, but a second time …
Had he not been so caught up in his thoughts Xemnas would have noticed the corners of Xigbar's mouth twitch.
"That's what we thought too, at first," Xigbar said, secretly struggling to keep a straight face, unable to believe that the stupid subliminal messages were working, "but Xaldin, Luxord, Axel and Roxas have already contracted it. It's imperative that something is done, and quickly."
"And what are the symptoms?" Xemnas asked, listening to the Freeshooter with one ear.
"So far, a nasty rash, sleepiness, hyperactive imaginations, spasms, hair loss and boils. Even Roxas has been infected, possibly because, whereas the rest of us have been gradually exposed to it, he came back to it from virus-free environment."
On any other day, at any other moment, Xemnas would have long suspected that Xigbar was just making it all up as he went along, without even bothering to make it sound coherent, but now he was too busy analyzing his straying thoughts to analyze the other's straying rationalization.
"If that is so, then why haven't I caught S—it too?" Xemnas pulled his hand away from the wall, rubbing the tips of his fingers together, confused. Along with the other's name, the scarred face kept flitting in and out of view before him.
"Don't know," Xigbar said. "But we cannot take any chances. I've quarantined them down in the labs, but I think that it might have spread to other parts of the castle and … Is something wrong, Superior? You're mind seems to be elsewhere."
"No. Go on," Xemnas said, turning away from the wall and walking over to his desk to take a seat. Struggling to clear his mind, he watched as Xigbar, still on the roof, walked over. However, now it was the light fixture the Freeshooter was standing next to that seemed to call out to him. "And what about Sa—Demyx!" He cursed under is breath, rubbing his eyes and missing Xigbar's quick but wide grin. "What about Demyx?"
Maybe he had been infected as well. He sounded like he was losing his mind. Perhaps this virus had nestled itself into his office. That would explain the vibes …
"He appears healthy, but we must be very careful. I've already made some progress on an antidote in the labs, but until I find a definite cure it'd be for the best if we stayed put. Demyx, once he's done with a little errand I sent him on, will help me with the antidote. The good news, however, is that the disease hasn't reached your office yet, so it would do well if you stayed put until the castle has been properly sanitized."
There was something very suspicious about this, Xemnas started to find, but now seeing fell yellow eyes glowering at him from every dark corner of the office made him hold his tongue. He was the one seeing and saying strange things, so perhaps he should trust that Xigbar knew what he was doing.
"Do what you must," Xemnas said, briskly pulling his papers towards him once more. "We cannot afford to fall further behind schedule."
There was a rushing sound, like a rip in space itself, and Xigbar appeared before him, upright and feet planted on the floor.
"I'm certain it'll be over in a couple of days, but remember: do not leave this room. I'll send Dusks up with regular updates and photos, if you want."
"Good. I want Saix on my desk as soon as possible."
A painful silence followed. Refusing to meet the other's eye, Xemnas clenched his fist, bit back the urge to scream, and slowly reiterated his statement.
"I want the reports on my desk as soon as possible."
"Consider him done."
Xemnas' head shot up but Xigbar was already heading for the door.
"What did you say?"
"I said, consider it done," Xigbar said, turning with a confused frown. "Why? Did you hear something else, sir? Maybe I should check you over, to make sure…"
"No, no. I'm just … Never mind. Get on with it."
"Sure thing, boss."
Xemnas only faintly registered the sudden drop in formality. Staring down at his shaking hands, he came to the decision that he'd never, ever return to that filthy Bastion again. Mind made up, he resumed his work, ignoring the rest of his office to favour the scrolls before him.
It didn't really work.
'Why Saix? Could it be guilt? Second thoughts on what I said to him … ? Ludicrous! He can feel no more than I can, and cares for nothing … But then why … Why … Saix … ?'
"You're losing control again," said the Voice. "Why Saix? Why a lowly Neophyte? He is but a servant. A tool. You need not excuse yourself to him. Or have you already fallen so far, Xehanort, that you would be tricked twice by a subordinate? You deceived your old master Ansem: perhaps it is now your turn to be ruined by your followers?"
'I am nothing like that old fool,' Xemnas said, eyes narrowing at the mere mention of that name. 'Ansem was a coward from the start. We merely braved to go where he didn't. His fear made him turn a blind eye on our experiments. His fear ... I fear nothing.'
"Because you are nothing. Remember that, Xehanort."
Again, the Voice fell silent, leaving Xemnas to brood behind his desk.
"Why me? Why do they always pick me? I suck at stuff like this!"
Demyx had been searching high and low for their most elusive member, so, naturally, he wasn't having much luck. Saix wasn't in his room, or in Addled Impasse, or in the Library Of Lonely Bookmarks, or even in the courtyard chopping up Dusks. Saix didn't have cool teleporting abilities like Xigbar or Luxord, but he could make himself disappear just as effortlessly, and was less likely to reappear in a timely or convenient manner.
"The guys will be so angry if I mess up! I can't believe how sucky this is! Man, where is he?"
If he blew this, he was dead. He knew it. The others would kill him, after all they went through to put this plan into motion. And trust him to go and just ruin everything!
Pushing open a door, unaware of which room he was entering, Demyx tugged at his spiky hair.
"I can't even find him. I'm bad at tracking others. Oh man, I'm going to screw this up big time, and then they'll be mad at me and if the Superior or Saix find out—"
"If I find out what?"
Demyx yelped and jumped back, smacking the his head against a cupboard. He'd wandered into the kitchen and, much to his elation (closely followed by horror) there was his stray target, sitting at the table, a large cup of tea before him.
"Saix! Hey! Er … I … You … um … Didn't see you there … Hi … Everything … um … alright? Hey, tea! Can I have some … please?"
Saix didn't answer IX's request outright, which was understood as permission. Pouring himself a cup of hot teat, the Nocturne took a step towards the table, then reconsidered and stepped back, re-reconsidered and stepped forward, hesitated and stepped back, puzzled for a moment then—
"Either stand or sit, IX, but stop fidgeting."
IX almost threw himself into a chair. Normally, Saix would have taken slight satisfaction in causing the boy some form of mental damage, but he felt nothing, excluding the lingering barb that had dug its way deep into his mind, pride and confidence.
"Sorry," Demyx said.
Saix wasn't renowned for his lively conversations, but it was easy to tell when the berserker was being his usual stoic self and when he was one moonbeam away from breaking out his claymore. And there was the lingering warning of Xigbar's Sniper that Saix had returned in a bad mood. As if that hadn't been bad enough, the others had assigned him to feed Saix, the least gullible of the group, Axel's (at best) extraordinary story of old mould being highly contagious.
Demyx usually tapped his fingers when he was nervous, but now he forced himself to clench his hands around his teacup. He wanted to hum, but that could cost him his vocal cords. His sitar was a dependable source of comfort, but it had also been smashed a record-breaking 23 times by Saix.
So all poor Demyx could do was sit there, silently screaming his throat raw while trying to keep up a shaky smile.
"What do you want, IX?"
Demyx was afraid he'd end up screaming if he opened his mouth, but if there was one thing Saix hated more than ... Rephrased: one of the many things Saix hated was not having his questions answered.
"Oh, nothing … um … " Stalling, Demyx took a mouthful of tea.
Saix could see the tears forming in the corner of the boy's eyes as the hot liquid burned his tongue and throat. IX coughed, bravely keeping up the smile through the tears.
"Mmmmm. Good (cough) tea … My (cough) favourite (choke) … "
"If it were nothing," Saix challenged the first statement, "thenwhy were you worried that I might find out?"
"Well … (cough) ... uh … er … yeah, I was talking (cough) to myself. That's pretty crazy, right? I probably was just rambling. Yeah! I was just rambling. Yup. Meant nothing."
Saix had heard enough of VIII's lies to know a cover-up when he heard one, and IX lacked the redhead's quick mind and silver tongue. Plus he was about as tactful in his approach as a behemoth on fire with sirens strapped to its horn . The only thing, the only thing that IX was good at was being IX, and that only worked well for him because he was oblivious to it.
"Hn. If you insist. Good day, IX."
Saix didn't get up. It took a moment for Demyx to realize that it had been an outright dismissal; that he was the one who should be going.
"H-Hey … "
"What?" Saix asked without looking up from his tea.
" … um … "
An empty cup was slowly prodded into Saix's line of sight. About to bring his own cup to his lips, Saix paused. He had an inkling that IX was about to do a very IX-esque thing, and that he'd be helpless to put a stop to it once it got underway.
He was never in the mood for anyone's shenanigans, and he certainly wasn't now. All he wanted was to make sense of where exactly he'd gone wrong; where it was that he'd lost his Superior's good graces. He'd been brewing over their … disagreement the entire time and still, despite his talent of problem solving, he was none the wiser.
Distracted by this dilemma, Saix took too long in getting rid of the other, namely IX, and now the musician, assuming that he was actually interested, was getting that excited, now-I-won't-be-shutting-up-for-a-long-while sparkle in his eyes.
"What's it say?" IX asked, poking the cup, which couldn't have been any more unimpressed than Saix.
Still, the question was worthy of an answer, if only to set the poor idiot straight.
"It's an inanimate object, IX. It isn't saying anything."
Despite the less-than-encouraging reply (and really, who'd ever expect one of those from Saix?) Demyx felt encouraged. Any answer, regardless of how caustic or bored, was a unspoken agreement that conversation would be tolerated for a bit longer.
"Not the cup," Demyx said. "The leaves."
Giving IX a long, hard, and very cold glare (because it just felt better to take out his frustrations on someone, in any way possible), Saix leaned in a bit to find a residue of tea leaves in a shallow pool of cooling tea at the bottom of the cup.
"And why would I know what dead plant life has to say?"
"You can see into the future, can't you?"
"If I could," Saix sighed, sitting back, "I'd have predicted this conversation and I would have avoided the kitchen altogether. IX, explain your babbling. I see nothing in that cup but dregs."
"But you're the Lunar Diviner."
At last, IX was making some sense. Complete nonsense, but some sort of sense nonetheless.
"It's but a title."
"But everyone else's title fits their powers. I'm a musician, so the Melodious Nocturne is a good title. And Axel's the Flurry of Flames, and he controls fire. And Xigbar's the Freeshooter, and he wields guns. And Xaldin—"
"I do not practice tasseomancy."
"Tas-o-whatty?"
"I do not read tea leaves," Saix clarified.
"But you're into that kind of stuff, right?" Demyx asked, forgetting himself (and his task), engrossed in the possibility. Funny that he'd never considered it before that they might have a fortune teller in their group. That would be awesome!
"The only thing I'm 'into' is our cause." Something he'd thought the Superior knew and appreciated …
Unaware of the other's inner brooding, Demyx excitedly pulled off his glove and waved his hand in Saix's face.
"How about palm-reading?"
"No," Saix said, batting the hand away roughly.
"Cards? If I were to get a deck of Luxord's cards, would you be able to use them?"
"Number IX," Saix all but barked, putting down his cup and chipping the bottom on the table. "If you truly have no better way to spend your time then perhaps a mission to the Underworld is in order."
"N-No! I just got back from there! It's creepy!"
"Then remove yourself from my sight."
" … What about astrology?"
Saix opened his mouth with an automatic denial on the tip of his tongue, but stopped himself, went silent for a moment, then, despite his better judgement, nodded.
"Really?! Cool! You can see into the future?!"
"The future is never clear."
But Demyx was too psyched to listen anymore.
"Can you, like, see into our future? When will Kingdom Hearts be ready? Will we get our hearts back? Is there really a Keyblade Master? Will we beat him? What's Xaldin making for dinner tomorrow? If it's that chewy casserole thing then I'm eating out—"
"Even if I wanted to, which would never come to pass, I cannot divine anything here."
Saix supposed that some would consider the look of dismay on IX's face a crime, a complete destruction of innocence and happiness. To him, however, it was a foreboding sign that he might have a weepy underling on his hands.
"Whyyyyyyyyyy?" IX whined in a manner unbecoming of anything with a shred of self-respect.
"There are no stars in this world," Saix said plainly and was assured that he wasn't going to have to sit through one of IX's tearful breakdowns when the boy nodded in understanding, sniffing inelegantly.
"…Oh." Demyx sat back, very disappointed but knowing that there was nothing to be done about that. "Well, I guess life isn't so simple. But I'd love to know about that stuff. You know, the future. It would have been great to know that we'll succeed and get back our hearts. Like a boost, or something. I wonder what we'll do when we get our hearts back. Do you think we'll find something else to achieve? Like taking over worlds and stuff?"
Interesting. This was a side of IX that Saix had only heard of, never seen: thoughtful IX. II had once spent ten minutes insisting to Saix that the boy was capable of serious thoughts, only to have IX race past them, high on sweets he'd scavenged in Traverse Town. It was one of the few times Saix had dismissed a superior's words. But here it was, a mature side of IX, albeit it voicing childish dreams.
"Once our hearts are returned to us there won't be a need for the Organization," Saix said, thinking little of his own words while IX took them to heart, figuratively speaking.
"You mean … we'll split up?"
"Our aim is to get back what is rightfully ours; to return to who and where we were before our hearts were stolen from us."
Demyx frowned.
"Yeah, but this place … " He looked around them fondly, some of his business-like manner giving way to wide-eyed earnest. "I just thought that since this is all we have … even if we did get our hearts back, and even if we could go back home … I … I wouldn't want to. It's not perfect, but I like what we have here. What if, when we find our hearts, we're forced back to our old worlds? With our hearts back we'll lose the power over darkness and won't be able to travel through the Corridors. What if, by winning back our hearts, we'll lose each other? Why can't we stay together?"
"Different fates," was all Saix had to say to all of that.
"But same beginnings. After all we've been through, it'll be impossible to just walk away and never see each other again. Why can't we still be the Organization, only with hearts? We'd be stronger and better than ever." IX looked deflated. "If we get back our hearts, and are then separated ... I don't want the first thing I genuinely feel, after so long, to be sadness. I don't want a heart if it only means it will hurt me."
When Saix didn't reply Demyx glanced over. Much to his surprise, the Diviner was not only looking right at him, but for once, it wasn't a look of contempt, or rage, or even a blank glare. It was a thoughtful one, and Saix only ever looked thoughtful when he cared enough to think about something. He'd never cared for anything Demyx had to say in the past … so …
Saix was thinking better of him?
Saix was taking him seriously?
Saix was—
"Goodbye, IX."
—back to his old, must-not-talk-to-low-lives self. And this time it was the Diviner who stood, preparing to retreat into another hiding place where Demyx was certain he'd never find him. Saix knew that he was looking for him now and would make himself scarce on purpose, and then Demyx would have to report back to the others that … Hey, wasn't he supposed to be doing something else?
Oops.
"H-Hey!" Demyx stammered, leaping to his feet and rounding the table so quickly that he found himself standing chest-to-chest with the Diviner. Again, his mind deserted him and he could not come up with a quick enough excuse for his actions. The next best thing was: "Um … ever noticed that we're the only two in the whole Organization whose names end with an 'X'?"
Saix wondered if, perhaps, he was developing an immunity against IX's charms, because he was definitely itching to throw the other across the room. On top of worrying about the Superior, he had been unexpectedly affected by IX's concerns about the consequences of receiving their hearts. The thought that a heart wouldn't only bring them salvation, but misery as well, had never occurred to Saix. Or, if it had, he'd been quick not to consider it.
"Oh brother … " said a voice from the doorway.
Demyx's face flushed at Xigbar's exasperated look. Saix gave their superior a curt nod, which was far more respectfully than he usually gave Demyx (who was normally greeted with a 'what-the-hell-do-you-want?' glare). Feeling like he'd totally blown their plan, Demyx looked at the Freeshooter with lost eyes and Xigbar sighed again.
"There's been a viral outbreak," he told Saix. "Go to the Superior's office and do not leave it until I give the all clear."
Demyx's self-pity turned to awe. Of course, Xigbar being second-in-command meant that he was not to be questioned when he gave direct orders, and everyone knew that Saix never disobeyed a direct order, but that he'd managed to pull it off in all seriousness, to a currently not-too-negotiable Saix, was the works of a master. They both watched as the Diviner left the kitchen through a Corridor. Demyx fell back into a chair, shivering.
"I was taking it slowly, to throw him off guard," he defended himself at Xigbar's imploring stare.
"If you'd taken it any slower he would have thrown you off the nearest balcony. Never try to draw out a conversation with Saix. Just go in, get it over with and back off."
With no warning, a Corridor bloomed in the middle of the floor, letting in a horde of red-faced Nobodies, one of whom was carrying a small monitor which he placed on the table as if it were some sacred object of worship. The rest crowded around like fanatic worshippers.
"What are you doing up here?" Xigbar hissed at them as Axel started tinkering with the monitor. "You're supposed to be quarantined."
"I can't get a good signal down in the basement," Axel shot back, pulling at an antennae and whacking the side of the television while the others watched anxiously.
Roxas, who was too weak to stand on his own, now slumped against the table.
"What are you talking about?" Demyx asked. Xaldin and Luxord (whose eyes were no longer so puffy but very bloodshot) were blocking his view so he had to be hopping behind them, only catching one second glimpses of the screen.
Xigbar had the miracle of anti-gravity. Still sneering at their spontaneity, he teleported himself directly above Axel. On the small screen was a grainy image which flickered in and out of sharpness as Axel continued to abuse the antennae. It took a few more minutes, and one good whack, and everything came into focus. Grinning widely, Axel looked up at Xigbar, his fiery crown of hair much less drastic with a few tuffs missing here and there.
"Say hello to the Love Cam!" he said. "A little something extra I added at the last minute to make sure everything runs smoothly this time."
The single yellow eye narrowed for a second, then flew open as two and two were put together.
"You installed hidden cameras inside the Superior's personal office?!" Xigbar snarled. "As if plastering the room with voodoo stickers wasn't bad enough, you blatantly defiled our leader's privacy? It's outrageous!"
"You're pissed because it's unethical?" Xaldin asked, in serious doubt.
"No, I'm pissed because I can't believe I didn't think of it first! Move over!" Xigbar laughed, pushing Axel aside and claiming the chair directly in front of the monitor. Everyone else crowded around him, with poor Demyx still in the back, bouncing in and out of view of the screen.
Roxas could think of a million ways this could all go fatally wrong, but right now he was too tired and inflamed to say anything. Weakly resting his head on Axel's arm, he stared at the screen, at the Superior sitting at his desk.
Sometimes, it was just easier to go along with it.
Tbc…
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