Vanitas awoke to the pain of having an entire Aero spell shoved down his throat.

"What the—" his curse was eaten by heaving coughs as his body fought to expel the excess air. "What was that for!?"

Aqua leaned over his limp form. "You nearly suffocated to death. It was either the Aero spell, or mouth to mouth resuscitation. The choice was obvious."

"What's wrong with mouth to mouth?" he said, just to push her personal-space buttons.

She scowled.

"Don't smirk at me."

"I can smirk if I—"

Wait. She could see—?

His hands flew to his face, feeling soft, vulnerable flesh instead of his cold, hard mask.

"Where is it?" Even the base of his helmet had vanished, no longer protecting his jaw. "Why did you take it!?"

"This?" She retrieved his helmet from the ground behind her. "You gave it to me. To save my life."

"Why would I…"

Memories slowly drifted back. The quicksand. Both of them trapped. About to die. Why didn't they die…?

He rubbed his head, still surprised to find hair there and not hard plastic.

"…Did you cast some sort of spell on me?"

"Not at all." She smiled, and her fair skin glowed against the surrounding blackness, like she was the only light in the room. Or whatever weird space they were in. "You did something good of your own free will. Out of the kindness of your heart."

"What kindness?" he spat, trying to snatch his helmet, but his arms dropped back at his sides with a pathetic thud. Still too weak. "And why are you fine?"

"Your helmet protected me much better than that improvisation did for you." She picked up a shard of something that looked like a piece of his suit, only thicker, more plastic-like. Had that been the pseudo-helmet he'd tried to protect himself with? "And as for what kindness… the kindness you have buried, deep inside of you. You saved my life. You proved it."

"Pfft," he scoffed, sounding like a leaking tire. "I saved you before. Didn't mean anything then."

"Back then, you had nothing to lose. This time, you sacrificed your own chance at safety."

Hmph. Apparently nothing would convince her. …If he was honest, he wasn't convinced himself.

"I must've had my head screwed on wrong."

At that, she laughed. Actually laughed. He could've sworn the room lit up at the sound... He was right; his head was screwed on wrong.

"There's nothing wrong with helping someone, Vanitas."

"Expecting help is the surest path to destruction," Xehanort had always beaten into him. Why would Vanitas ever help someone when he couldn't expect it himself?

Except… Aqua had helped him. Her Aero spell had revived him when she could've easily left him for dead.

"…Hmph."

He cursed his lack of a snarky comeback. That was one part of himself he could usually fall back on when other parts were uncertain. He blamed it on the near-death experience.

"Where are we, anyway?" he asked.

She brushed sand off of his helmet, and he again wished he weren't so weak. If he were any better, he would've smacked it out of her hands, or at least thrown her lecture about inappropriate touching back in her face. How could she touch his most important possession like it was hers?

"Underground, as far as I can guess." She looked toward the low ceiling, which shed sand from fragile stalactites. "We sunk through from up there."

"Great," he deadpanned. He'd have to get a scent-reading on the light again, assuming he even could this deep underground… But first things first. "Give back my helmet."

"Why?" she asked, like a stubborn child jealously guarding a favorite toy.

"Why? Because it's mine! You don't want me touching your… stuff," he grumbled, unsure how direct he could be without violating the 'never speak of this again' rule.

"…You look better without it," she finally said, after staring at him for an uncomfortable moment.

He could hardly stand her gaze, unprotected as he was. "Not as ugly as you thought, huh?" he'd commented when he'd given it to her. He remembered that now.

"More… human," she clarified, and he scowled.

"Well, I'm not human. I'm—"

"A heart of darkness," she mocked, rolling her eyes, and still not handing over the helmet. "Yes, I got that. But I don't believe it. Do you know whose face you have?"

That sparked his attention, even if he wouldn't admit it. She'd said something about recognizing his face before. He looked nothing like Ventus, his other half, so why would recognize him? How could she?

"My own," he replied stubbornly. He felt naked without his mask, like her bright blue eyes could drill a hole through his skull.

"I met a boy on a world called Destiny Islands. He couldn't have been more than four years old, but his face was a mirror image of yours. The only difference was his hair was brown and his eyes were blue."

Vanitas rolled his own very gold, very not-blue eyes. "Sounds like you're losing it to me. A four-year-old? Come on, Aqua."

He didn't mention that technically he had only been "Vanitas" for four years. It wasn't important.

"I'm serious," she still sounded convinced. "I noticed him because of the light in his heart. His name was Sora."

Sora. His head spun at the name; his heart felt punctured by an arrow of light. It was just a name! Some dumb kid's name; why was he having this reaction—?

"Hey. Can you hear me?"

He jolted upright at the young voice. A voice that, oddly enough, sounded like a happier, higher-pitched version of his own. "What—who…?"

Somehow he knew it wasn't speaking to him, but he heard it all the same. Like a fragmented memory, like something hidden in the other half of his heart…

"Ventus," he muttered. "Ventus knows this Sora."

"Ven…?" A wistful look swept over Aqua's expression.

"Yeah." The scowl stayed planted on his face. He didn't mind if she saw that.

"I'm sure there's a connection somewhere," Aqua said, and he glared.

"You just want me to be more like Ventus, don't you? Even if you have to make it up."

"Vanitas," she said in exasperation, "I never said you were anything like Ven. I said you look like Sora. Don't put words in my mouth."

The name didn't hurt as much the second time. The whole situation was still ridiculous, though. No sense at all. Which was why he argued for the sake of arguing; it helped him keep some handle on himself. Who he was.

Before his time in the Realm of Darkness with Aqua, he never would've questioned himself. Who he was, his purpose, who he would become—all was wrapped in a tidy X-Blade shaped package. He was the heart of darkness, created to wage war against the heart of light. Now apparently even those distinctions were slipping.

Why couldn't he have just let Aqua die?

"…I need more rest," he finally said, lying back on the sand-dusted ground. A dollop of sand dripped from a stalactite and landed on his forehead, but he couldn't find the energy to wipe it off.

Aqua gently did so for him. For as much as she preached against touching, the contact with another living being felt… comforting. It took him a while to label the foreign feeling, by which time she had kindled a warm, floating fire.

"Then rest," she said softly, finally placing his helmet down beside his head. "You deserve it."

"Heh."

He smiled a little, watching his reflection in the plastic window of his mask. Black hair, gold eyes. She was right—he did look pretty good. Maybe he didn't need to hide that, now that she'd already seen it for herself.

For now he let his eyes slide shut and slipped into a silent sleep.

For once, it felt good to get what he deserved.