Breakfast ended shortly after Xemnas's dismissal and Zexion's departure. Satisfyingly fed and watered, Organization XIII dispersed for the day's activities. Xigbar was the first to leave, with a "Yo, Luxord! Race you to Pride Rock!" No sooner had he said this than he teleported outside, and shortly thereafter offworld. Luxord glanced momentarily at Number II's now-empty seat, and calmly returned to his waffles. "Let this be a lesson to the rest of you," he commented dryly, "to read one's schedule more carefully. The Pride Lands are next week. I hope he enjoys himself today." Axel snickered, standing and tossing his empty plate discus-style at an unsuspecting Dusk. "And how did you spend your evening, Luxord? I would think messing with schedules would be beneath you."

Luxord stood, cracking a devious smile, and summoned a portal. "Which is why you have yet to beat me at poker. You're far too trusting. Good morning." Chuckling to himself, he backed into the corridor of darkness and vanished. Axel was left hanging, a forefinger raised in defiance and halfway between a retort. Finally, he relented, curling his raised hand into a fist and dropping it to his side. "Wait until he finds out what I did to his closet. Come, Roxas – Twilight Town needs us!" Thus it was that Axel left through a portal of his own, leaving Roxas to hastily polish off his waffles and follow.

The rest of the Organization left in their own manners – Xaldin, Vexen, and Lexaeus without a word and fully intending to match Zexion's apparent eagerness; Saïx staying behind for a word with Xemnas before departing for his own mission; and Larxene and Marluxia leaving through a single portal, whispering conspiratorially. Only Demyx lingered, gazing wonderingly at Zexion's empty seat and trying to decipher Number VI's sudden shift in demeanor. "Surely he couldn't have forgotten Valentine's Day. Why would he go off so fast, if he didn't want to have more time to celebrate?"

"Demyx."

Xemnas's silky, emotionless bass shattered Demyx's personal bubble of speculation, and Demyx glanced up to find, with a sudden twinge of panic, that he was now alone in the room with the Superior. "Is there something you wish to discuss, Number IX?" This was not a question, but a threat, as Xemnas's amber eyes, devoid of compassion or interest in an answer, searched Demyx for any sign of dissent. Demyx visibly paled, and responded, quivering in his seat: "N-no, sir, Mr. Superior, sir! I'm on my way to…to my mission." Demyx was struck with a sense of unspeakable dread as he realized he had no idea where he was supposed to be.

Xemnas arched a perfectly sculpted silver eyebrow, boring twin holes in Demyx's skull with his gaze. "And where might that mission be?" he inquired, already having predicted the response. Demyx shrank down in his chair, and jumped when a silver claw swept in front of him; but it was merely a Dusk collecting his plate, glass and silverware. "My mission…it's in the place I was…assigned to…for today…" Demyx answered, faltering more and more with each passing second.

As one might expect, Xemnas was unimpressed. "You would do well, Number IX, to pay closer attention to your schedule. I'm sure the Dusks have far more…physically demanding tasks to attend to if posting your schedule is not a priority. It never hurts to train more footsoldiers – especially with your Dancer Nobodies as moving targets." Demyx shuddered, and found the courage to meet Xemnas's gaze. "I'll just…be off, then, if that's all right? Bulletin board and all? Can't sit here forever…" "And please don't hurt my poor Dancers…" he added silently.

Xemnas eyed his subordinate a moment longer, and finally nodded. "Indeed. I expect we both have better things to do." So saying, he stood and vanished. He didn't summon a portal – he just vanished. "One of the creepier things about him," Demyx mused, rising cautiously from his seat and glancing about, as if Xemnas was still watching him.

"Who knows?" Demyx thought, half-running to the doors. "He might be."

The Sewers of Hollow Bastion
11:37 AM, Valentine's Day

A lone Shadow Heartless peeked around a dank corner, its yellow eyes searching the corridor beyond for any sign of danger. Sensing none, it scampered across the damp stones of the sewers, its black form almost blending in with the darkness of its surroundings.

Enemy. Run. Hide.

As anyone studying the mysteries of the heart at the Royal University of Hollow Bastion would know, Heartless were utterly mindless. Driven by instinct and boundless hunger for hearts of all kinds, they were an animalistic force, capable only of organization by intelligent entities and totally devoid of higher reasoning skills.

This particular Shadow was no exception – a completely run-of-the-mill, insignificant creature in a class with billions of others just like it. But it possessed one thing that made it equal to every sentient and semisentient being across the worlds: the inherent ability to feel fear. This fear was justified with extreme prejudice this day, as this Shadow was currently the last of its kind in the area.

Run. Hide. Enemy. Alone.

Though Shadows lacked communication skills, this was an accurate approximation of its disjointed mockeries of thoughts. It skittered down endless hallways, occasionally crossing small bridges or simply jumping across the flow of wastewater, fleeing this way and that to reach some unspecified safety. A dead end put a stop to its path and its hope for survival.

End. Dark. Damp. Alone.

As the Shadow felt along the wall impeding its progress for any sign of a crack it could slip through, its antennae twitched. It sensed something, and paused to listen. Behind the Shadow, the water was churning and bubbling, as if stirred by the propeller of a boat. Curious, the Heartless turned and moved closer to the water to investigate.

Water. Something. Unknown.

Suddenly, the water took shape, forming a giant hand that reached up from the depths. Before the Heartless could react, the hand snatched it off of the walkway, pulling the struggling, pathetic creature below the surface of the filthy river. In a matter of seconds, the unfortunate Heartless dissolved, ground against the sewer's bottom by the guided pressure of the water.

A dark portal manifested where the Heartless had stood, and Demyx emerged, grinning like he'd won the lottery. "Score! That's a new personal record!" he exclaimed gleefully, summoning his sitar and strumming a celebratory tune.

As Demyx played his impromptu victory song, he reflected on the events of the morning – which, by his standards, had gone reasonably well.

"Woke up with Zexion, after a night of torrid romance. Waffles for breakfast – my favorite. And I cleared the sewers in half my usual time!" Dismissing his sitar, Demyx closed his eyes, basking in his achievement. At least, as well as anyone can bask in a sewer fed by a city of thousands.

With the extra time afforded him by his efficient performance, Demyx decided to grab lunch in the city before returning to the Castle. So it was that he teleported aboveground, appearing in one of Hollow Bastion's many alleys. Nobody was around to see, and this suited Demyx just fine. Putting his hood up, he left the alley and strode into the main square.

The prime directive of Organization XIII, it must be mentioned, was that an operative could not appear to outsiders. It was one of the Organization's most frequently flouted laws, right up there with "Fraternization of any sort is strongly discouraged" and "Dusks may not be used as target practice." What Demyx had learned, however, was that any successful infraction of the rules must be accompanied by an equally reasonable rationalization. In this case, he figured that this world had creatures made of darkness menacing the citizens, and a select few of said citizens wielded weapons as big as or bigger than themselves; thus, the presence of a figure cloaked in black would go unnoticed in such a setting.

For the most part, Demyx was correct, and not only for the reasons above. It was Valentine's Day, after all, and this occasion had not gone unacknowledged by the inhabitants of Hollow Bastion. The scenery was covered with red and pink everywhere Demyx looked, streamers and hearts adorning every exposed surface. Even the dormant lampposts had been fitted with carnation-pink bulbs, promising a rosy glow for the evening to accentuate the romance in the air. As Demyx entered the main square, he found that a massive heart on display above the fountain dominated the city center. Apparently suspended in place by magic, the heart slowly revolved, a massive carven ruby reflecting the couples enjoying lunch in the surrounding cafes. The fountain sprayed red wine instead of water, a symbol of both today's festivities and of the gradually rising prosperity of the city.

Demyx saw all this, and stood frozen in silence, taking in the crimson-infused display. "There's nothing like this back at home base, that's for sure," he thought, surveying the decorations from his vantage point under one of the square's entrance arches. It occurred to him that, contrary to what was usually the case, he was violently out of place here. This was a sentiment shared by the people of Hollow Bastion, some of whom turned to stare at the morbidly clothed stranger crossing the square. None of these civilians would pose any threat to the Organization or Demyx, but it was enough for Number IX to chance a quick look over his shoulder as he entered the bakery.

The baker fixed Demyx with wary eyes as a bell rang, signaling the Nobody's entrance. But this suspicion was fleeting – as Demyx approached the counter, it became clear that he was a customer, and nothing more. "Can I help you, sir? Or madam?" asked the baker, trying to discern Demyx's outline below the cloak.

"Um…what do you recommend? As long as it's to go." Demyx was severely out of practice as far as foreign food was concerned. The baker, however, broke into a wide grin, taking Demyx's confusion as an opportunity. "As a matter of fact, our specialty today is red velvet cake, in honor of Valentine's Day. Only five munny a slice." Demyx ended up buying two – "One for me, one for Zexion. Wonder what he's doing."

Upon his return to the Castle That Never Was, however, Demyx received no satisfactory answer. The building was mostly empty, anyway; the majority of the Organization was still occupied with their respective missions. Demyx entered the main hall, carrying two paper plates of red velvet cake and searching for a certain Cloaked Schemer. "Zexion?" he called, looking around the castle for any sign of life. The stark ivory walls and sparse, yet grand furnishings of the ominously named Beginning of the End offered no response.

Demyx sighed, and was just about to return to his quarters when a voice issued forth from seemingly all sides. "Looking for your bookworm?" called a familiar accent of nonchalance. Demyx whirled, struggling to keep his cake balanced and find the source of the words. "Xigbar, where are you?" he asked, frustrated at the second failure of his powers of observation today.

A small pop announced itself from behind Demyx, signaling the forcing of air from its position - teleportation. It was enough to make the Melodious Nocturne jump, dropping both plates of cake in the process. They fell to the floor, seemingly in slow motion from Demyx's horrified point of view, and culinary disaster was only averted when the cake suddenly stopped, inches from destruction. The cake hung in midair for a few harrowing seconds, and then righted itself, landing gently on the floor.

Demyx, who had been frozen in despair and shock, breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face Xigbar, whose powers had caused the disturbance and saved the dessert. "Thanks. Have you seen Zexion? I can't find him anywhere." He decided not to mention the cake, remembering Xemnas's warning.

Xigbar smirked, his one eye regarding Demyx with an appraising gleam. "I figured he'd be back from his mission by now. He's probably filling out his report for the big cheese, so if I were you, I wouldn't disturb him." Xigbar chuckled, and continued: "Me being me, however, all bets are off." Demyx rolled his eyes, and answered, "Well, tell me if you see him."

Xigbar nodded, still smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "Right. By the same token, tell me if you see Luxord. I owe him a good beating for that Pride Rock crap."

"Sure," Demyx replied. "Don't hide in his closet – I think Axel's got that covered."

"If he hasn't got Roxas covered," Xigbar said, cackling evilly and disappearing. Demyx cracked a smile, and picked up the cake. "Hmmm…probably shouldn't risk this again. I'll take the shortcut." So rather than walking, Demyx dropped the cake off in his room by way of a portal of darkness. His burden thus relieved, Demyx portaled off to the Northern Ramparts to look for Zexion. He appeared outside of Number VI's door, deciding to knock in case Zexion didn't want to be disturbed.

"Zexion? Are you in there?" Demyx called. The response was swift and disappointing: "Demyx, I would love to take the edge off of today's extremely stressful mission, but I need a nap after I finish my report. I'll come get you if I need you, all right?"

Demyx pouted, and said, "Would you change your tune for red velvet cake?"

"I'll. Come. Get. You. If. I. Need. You."

Demyx sighed. There went his entertainment. Dejectedly, he mumbled a "See you," and walked off. "I like Zexion, but he takes everything so seriously. Oh, well – perhaps I'll go for a swim." True to his grudging decision, Demyx started down the hall to the West Wing, wherein lay the Atrophied Gymnasium. He had reached the border of the Isolated Study, Zexion's part of the castle, when he nearly ran into Axel. "Axel! What are you doing here?"

Axel raised a quizzical eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm back from my tour of duty, and in absence of Roxas to play with and alcohol to consume I thought I'd take a walk. I might ask the same of you."

"Well…" Demyx paused. "Axel doesn't seem like one to listen to the Superior…but I can't be sure – especially today of all days." Playing it safe, he answered half-truthfully. "I was going for a swim, and thought I'd walk to the old AG. Good for my figure, you know?"

Axel's eyebrow fell, and he broke into paroxysms of laughter. "AG? What's that supposed to stand for? Wait, don't tell me – it's some kind of weird slang from your previous world."

Demyx was not amused, and more than a little embarrassed. "Atrophied Gymnasium. It's an acronym." Unfortunately for Demyx, he was given to slips of the tongue when being dishonest.

Axel composed himself. "Right. Do me a favor and never acronym anything. You sound like a teenage Xigbar. Oh, by the way, if you're looking for Zexion, he was in the Hall of Empty Melodies last time I saw him. Might want to check up on that." This last sentence was punctuated throughout by winks and rather obscene hand motions, which Demyx had little patience for. With a dismissive attitude uncharacteristic of himself yet appropriate for a Nobody, Demyx rolled his eyes and pushed past Axel to continue his traversal of the Castle's halls.

But all the way down to the Castle's core, Demyx was haunted by one question:

"What's he doing in two places at once?"

Demyx intended to find out, and diverted his course to the Hall of Empty Melodies. As he left the Northern Ramparts and reached the great foyer welcoming the Organization to the upper levels of the castle, he distinctly heard voices issuing forth from his destination.

"…Anyway, I don't want to ruin it. You know nothing, understand?"

"Somewhat. I must say, this seems like a lot of trouble for a simple-"

"I'll cover your missions for the rest of the week. Don't tell the Superior, and don't tell Demyx."

"My, but you are quite the negotiator. It's a deal."

"Someone's coming. Don't let me down."

This exchange was utterly confusing to Demyx, if not a little insulting. Unless he was sorely mistaken, the secretive voice had belonged to Zexion. "What's he doing keeping secrets from me?" thought Demyx, passing through the entryway into the Hall. He fully intended to confront Zexion about this, but only found Marluxia on the balcony, looking thoughtful. "Marluxia! Was Zexion here a moment ago?"

The Graceful Assassin noticed Demyx then, turning to him with a small, knowing smile. "As a matter of fact, we were just talking. Why?"

Demyx glared at him. "He knows something, and he isn't telling." Deciding to err on the side of caution and not mention Zexion's supposed presence in his room, he focused on the here and now. "I've been looking for him. Do you know where he might be?" At this, Marluxia raised his pink eyebrows in amusement, and his smile widened. "Unfortunately, no. In fact, he seemed rather eager to leave when he heard you coming. I wonder why that might be?"

At this point, Demyx was more hurt than angry. "I don't think it's any of your business, Number XI. It sounds like this is between me and him." Marluxia merely nodded, still smiling poisonously. "Very well. Let me know how it turns out," he said, in a tone that indicated that he didn't care in the least.

With a final glare in Marluxia's direction, Demyx summoned a portal and returned to the Northern Ramparts. He was going to get to the bottom of this, for better or for worse.

Excuse the time it took to update what should be a far shorter story than I usually write. I was at my great-uncle's ranch in western Texas with my entire extended family, and that part of the country knows not the gentle caress of wi-fi. As the cliffhanger ending of this chapter should make abundantly clear, this is going to go for three chapters instead of my promised two. One thing I've learned in my first year of writing is that a story never turns out exactly as planned. It belongs to the characters, after all, and if you write for them instead of about them (if that makes sense), you're basically running a puppet show, which doesn't translate well to the written word.

Also excuse the lack of fluff in this chapter, because as I approached the 6-page mark I realized I wasn't going to resolve Zexion's gambit in one chapter. You'll have all the romance you desire in the final chapter, and the Romance classification will of course be justified.

I could go on and on about how I like a smaller, more character-driven story and let slip so many plans for the future regarding Organization XIII, but I'll throw that bone out there in the next author's note. So assume early January at the latest.

As always, the Review button is right below these words, as is the drop-down favorite story/alerts button that fills my inbox and warms my heart. Thanks for reading, and chapter 3 will be up soon!

Love and thanks to all the readers

Zellarius Burvenia