Chapter Twenty-Five: Wounds of the Heart

I meandered into the interior of the Castle, following Roy's echoing footsteps through the halls. Soon enough I reached the computer room, where Roy leaned against a wall, inspecting a monitor. I plopped down the plush chair used to operate Ansem's computer.

"Hey... what's this?" Roy asked. "Someone left a disk in the drive."

He pushed a button on the nearby computer, and the disk drive spat out a silver disk.

"What's that?" I asked, turning around to see him fiddling to catch the disk. He fumbled with it until he caught it on one finger.

"I dunno. Maybe someone left a program disk in there. Hey, Tron!" Roy called out. "What is this disk?"

I do not know, Tron called out. It was used by an unknown User, and its function is a mystery to me.

"Unknown user, eh?" I asked. "Well, let's just see what's on it. Roy, put it back in."

He slid the disk back in, and a passcode screen came up.

"Dang. I knew it would have something like this," I grumbled.

"Hey, wait. I know how to use computers. Maybe, with a little help, TRON, we can see what's on this disk," he said. "Get outta the chair for a second."

I got out, and he slowly sat down, sighing. He began punching keys on the keyboard, but soon pounded the keys with his bandaged hands.

"What's wrong? I thought you were good with computers?" I asked.

"It's in BASIC. I only know C++!" he shouted. "Damn it! What the hell's it all for?!"

"Hey, calm down. I you look like you've had a rough time lately," I said. "Don't worry about it."

"It's... I..." Roy muttered, then sighed. "Never mind. I'm sorry."

He got out of the chair, took out the disk, and leaned on the doorway to the Heartless factory. I sat back down in the chair.

"So... Xehanort. He was Ansem's best apprentice. We know all there is to know about him already. He just appeared one day without knowing who or where he was," I read. "His thist for knowledge was insatiable, and he made Heartless behind Ansem's back. He split into a Heartless and Nobody... the rest is just garbage, journals and stuff."

"He doesn't have any memories," Roy muttered. "That could be something important."

"Maybe. But who knows? We don't know where he is, much less how many other members of Organization XIII are guarding him," I said. "Regardless... we've got to do something."

"Number XIV..." Roy muttered to himself, then tossed the disk down into the Heartless factory. "If Larxene compared him to Xehanort, then he sounds like a tough opponent."

Roy staggered, then fell to his feet. He gasped, then spat up a little blood.

"What's wrong?" I asked, rushing to help him. Aerith came by in the nick of time, helping me steady him.

"I guess... that battle with Larxene really complicated things," he muttered, then spat up a little more blood. "I shouldn't have... pushed myself so far..."

We carried Roy to a nearby room, which Aerith then shooed me out of, slamming the door along the way.

I waited a few minutes, pacing in the hall, after which Aerith came out.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"He has a punctured lung, numerous muscle strains and bone fractures, and a concussion, not to mention cuts and bruises," she said. "Even though his... different blood lets him heal faster, Roy's... banged up pretty good. It's a miracle he managed to stay conscious as long as you say he did, much less fight in that condition... the pain must have been unbearable."

"Can't potions help?" I asked, rummaging though my bag with a spare hand.

Aerith shook her head.

"Not only would potions be ineffective for wounds this serious... one of his wounds is a wound of the heart," Aerith said.

"A... wound of the heart?" I asked.

"The same as the wound he conceals with those hand wraps... the kind of wound that can take forever to heal, or never heal at all..." she said, looking down. "Someone wounded his heart recently, as well as his body. That's why the physical wound cannot heal... because the person that inflicted the physical wound wounded his heart at the same time."

That cut across his nose...

"Okay. Tell him... I've gone after Xehanort," I said. "Whenever he comes to, that is."

"He'll be back in fighting shape in no time, if we know him," Aerith chuckled. "You know he'll refuse to stay in a bed, just like his brother... well, don't get TOO beat up. There is a limit to how many near-dead people I can resuscitate."

"Right," I saluted, then walked off, punching my communicator.