A/N: I'd like to thank MissKitty and A for reviewing the last chapter. At first, when no one reviewed, I thought no one liked it and that perhaps I had taken a wrong turn in the story. I was trying to figure out what it was, and if I should scrap chapter 3 to start over. But then MissKitty and A saved the day! Thank you both so much for taking the time to let me know you enjoyed it!

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::IV::

a silent constant

Consciousness waxed and waned.

When it was waning, she dreamed of times gone by.

There was once a gym class that was designated "free reign" for the day. The classes were combined, taken outside, and told they could do whatever sport they wanted—as long as they really participated. No standing around chatting, pretending to work.

The gym teachers were being lazy, Dexné thought. After all, hardly any of them were fit, and one was already sitting, reading an orange book that had a red cancel sign printed on the back of it.

The girls migrated toward things like volleyball or kickball. The boys went for things like baseball and wrestling. There were other sports too, but Dexné didn't pay a lot of attention. She was the one standing around awkwardly, not knowing where to go or what to do. It seemed embarrassment and confliction were daily occurrences for her.

One of the teachers started strutting over to her, likely about to scold her for standing idle, when Lea came running over. "Hey, what're you doing all by yourself?" The question was rhetorical. She was always by herself, and he liked to point it out like it was an error of some sort. "C'mon, you can come play with us."

Dexné didn't give herself the chance to look where he pointed before following him, her eye trained warily on the teacher as he stopped his pursuit and returned to sitting with his coworkers. When she brought her attention forward again she was stunned to find herself amongst a group of boys. One she immediately recognized as Isa. The rest she didn't know.

"It's cool guys," Lea said, like it was no big deal, "she's with me."

The next thing she knew, a brown lemon-shaped ball was being pressed into her hands. Lea hastily described what she was supposed to do. Meanwhile the other boys were staring at her unimpressed. She was a pinball and they were bowling balls. Intimidation crept in her veins; fight-or-flight was activating.

She was going to get run over, wasn't she?

"Hut, hut, hike!" someone shouted, and Dexné took off.

"No, - - - -!" Lea yelled after her. "The other way! Run the other way!"

She whirled, and almost got bulldozed by one of the burlier guys. Panicked instinct usurped control of her body, and she twisted out of the way just in time before sprinting in the direction Lea indicated. Her strong legs slammed the ground, pushing her over spans of grass—effectively making her strides long despite her legs being short, at least when compared to the legs of other girls.

They'd been split into two teams. One side was trying to tackle her, the other tried to guard her. Isa was holding back two boys, and he didn't seem to be breaking a sweat at all. A couple of her other teammates were trying to divert the focus of the opposition. One guy almost got her, but Lea rammed into him at the last moment. Dexné dodged or outran the rest. She sprung, she twirled, she leaped, she skirted just out of reach every time.

"Run, Cheetah, run!" Lea cheered.

"Go," Isa urged a tad viciously. "Go!"

She was winded and her side cramped, but she responded to them and pushed herself faster.

"Yes! Touchdown!" an unfamiliar boy crowed.

"What's she…?"

"- - - -!" Lea called. "Stop! You can stop now!"

She stopped all right. She ran herself straight into the field goal post, the metal clanking as she smacked into it.

Her back met grass and she gazed dazedly at a blue sky.

Then she was staring up at Lea's face as he leaned over her. "You okay?!"

"…Affirmative," she supplied stiffly. "Yes."

A grin washed away his wide-eyed concern. "You dorky robot."

They played again. Some of the guys took after Lea in calling her Cheetah. And in those moments she was…glad.

But then she heard one boy with short brown hair whisper, "She's pretty good. Think we can step it up?"

"Nah, man," replied the yellow-haired burly boy. "One tackle would send her to the hospital. She can't dodge forever."

Burly Boy was right. She was fast, but she couldn't take a hit. How she knew that, she didn't know. But she wanted to find out.

It seemed being in-between sleep and wakefulness gave her better access to her past, to the subconscious lying beneath, and she was able to slightly steer her mind, attempting to take a detour from the gym memory. But as she tried a black fog stopped her. The black fog could not be seen through, and it effectively cloaked the particular shards Dexné sought. Unsuccessful, Dexné's mind returned to where it was.

The sinking sensation moved in her chest. The boys were going easy on her. So that was why they looked at her the way they did when Lea introduced her. Like she was an inconvenience. When she realized this, she wanted to leave. She wanted to sink into the ground and disappear.

She wished she had stayed in her shadows.

But then…she saw Lea smiling.

And she couldn't just walk away from that. He invited her, he seemed glad she was there. It was right then she realized disappointing Lea was far worse than disappointing herself. And, carefully observing the expressions and body language of the others, she deemed no one hated her presence. They all genuinely looked to be having fun. She must have been providing a challenging chase, or else she'd have picked up on resentment.

Then she looked to Isa. She…couldn't really tell where he stood. He seemed content in the moment. She caught him glancing at Lea, caught the upward tug of his mouth, and almost caught an eye-roll. Lea was happy, and that must have been enough for Isa.

Despite her previous thoughts of inadequacy, she was slightly disenchanted when the class was over. In fact, the thoughts lost grip when she actually did get caught a couple times nearing the end. Isa had managed to grab her arm and pull her to the ground. She made sure to pop right back up like nothing happened, and that dispersed the other boys' hesitation. They were nice enough not to full out tackle her, but she did get yanked down by the arm or tripped up at the leg. Really, it became less a game of football and more a game of "Catch the Cheetah."

Dexné was able to see more shards of memory, of other times in gym and elsewhere. Usually she awkwardly stood off to the side, too afraid of humiliation to do anything. But whenever she had a class with Lea and Isa, they'd encourage her.

"I'll race ya," Lea would say on the track. Or, sometimes, "I'll catch you this time!" And when she was morose and in need of more prodding, he'd say, "Oh, come on, - - - -, is this really all you can do?" That would irritate her; get her moving, if only to defy the lowered expectation. When that happened, Lea would grin and say something about the "spark" in her eyes, which she didn't fully understand.

But it made him happy, and that kept her going.

As a result, Dexné actually participated, actually tried her best. A gym teacher even praised them once for their effort. But she wasn't doing it for the grade. She did it because…it was fun. Lea had turned it from a chore and into a game. Because of him, and because of Isa too, Dexné was able to run farther and faster before succumbing to fatigue.

Isa became somewhat of a silent, steady support. He'd run alongside them, keeping them in check in case they slowed.

"Is that all you can do? A bit more and you'll almost be as fast as my grandmother," he once said mockingly.

Yet Lea smiled and retorted, "My great-grandmother moves faster than your granny."

Dexné still couldn't understand such banter. It was like they were fighting, but they weren't. Not really. They were…play fighting, it seemed. She wondered how one balanced such precarious exchanges. Where does one draw the line? What was truly insulting and what wasn't? Erring on the side of caution, she stayed out of it. Instead she used it as a chance to push ahead of them, since they were preoccupied with besting each other. They quickly notice, however, and surged forward to keep up. She still won the race by a large margin.

They stood in a triangle at the finish line, all breathing heavily. Lea was leaning on his knees. Isa stood tall, as always, and took deep breaths to recompose. Dexné had her hand pressed to a cramp at her side. It was then her brain spit up a retort to their banter. She mulled over saying it, trying to calculate the outcome.

Foreseeing no backlash, she spoke to both, saying, "My grandmother's dead…and she still moves faster than you two."

Lea and Isa stared at her in surprise, and she immediately regretted speaking. Her hands went clammy, the blood dropped out of her face. She shouldn't have mentioned the dead—bad move, bad move, bad, stupid, stupid—

But then Lea's eyes lit up, and a devilish grin split his face. He whirled on Isa and shouted, "Burn!"

"She was talking to you, too, loser." Isa smirked mirthfully, and Dexné could tell he wanted to roll his eyes. Apparently he considered himself far too mature for such an action, and settled for closing his eyes instead.

Dexné jumped when Lea clapped her on the back.

"You're learning," he said proudly.

She nearly blushed, the fluttery feeling kicking her in the gut. It wasn't that big of an accomplishment. Little children knew how to talk; little children knew how to bicker playfully. Why hadn't Dexné learned? Nevertheless, she…she was proud too…just a little.

The memories faded as consciousness waxed, and present-time Dexné opened her eyes.

She groggily glanced at the dim white light of the digital clock. Seeing that it was nowhere near mission time, she slipped back into oblivion. She didn't get to sleep during her mission at Castle Oblivion. Her body was exhausted, but her mind put up a fight, shoving her back and forth in and out of sleep.

"Gray your favorite color?" came Lea's voice, the echo of another memory. He was sitting next to her in the hall, before the start of school.

"What? No." Her brow furrowed in thought. "Why?"

"You wear it a lot. Brown, too. And black and white. You should wear more color; I bet you'd look nice in it."

The next day she tried dressing more colorfully.

Lea stopped in front of her, looking down at where she sat. "Holy—what happened, - - - -?"

She peered up innocently. "Huh?"

"You look like someone dragged you through a skittles factory!" He almost laughed, but held it back.

"But…you said wear more colors."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Balance, - - - -, balance. You went from grayscale to rainbow vomit."

"…But…how?"

"I can't believe I know more about putting an outfit together than a girl," Lea grumbled, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I blame my sisters."

Dexné woke again, fell to sleep again.

Now her mind was showing her at lunch with Lea and Isa. She was glaring a hole through her sandwich. She was thinking deeply about a story she read, the contents of which were non-fiction. It had been a dark, perilous story of survival.

"You okay there, - - - -?" Lea gave her a wary side stare. "Or do you just really hate ham and cheese."

"…If we were all stranded on a snowy mountain peak, with no way down…would you resort to cannibalism to survive?"

Isa stopped his fork halfway to his mouth, then put it down.

Lea actually considered the question. He shrugged. "Maybe."

Isa scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me. You're the pickiest eater I've ever known—there's no way you'd be able to stomach it."

"Hey, if it were a matter of survival—"

"You'd try it and immediately throw up," Isa finished.

"Well," Lea nudged him, "what about you, Isa? Think you could?"

The teen in question frowned. "I could do whatever it takes to survive…but I wouldn't have to cannibalize anyone. I'd find a way off the mountain."

"She said," the redhead emphasized, "there's no way off the mountain."

"I'd make a way," was the blue-haired boy's sure reply.

"I couldn't," Dexné quickly interjected, before they got into a real argument. "I'd rather eat dirt first. Or bugs."

Lea looked at her skeptically. "On a snowy mountain?"

"...I'll be the first to die, then you. Isa would ration our remains until help arrived; he'd be the sole survivor."

Isa stared down at his lunch, then discreetly pushed it away.

"Like we'd let each other die!" Laughter was in Lea's voice, as if he thought she was telling a joke. "But seriously, c'mon. The three of us? We could survive anything!"

The people in the story had thought so too, Dexné mulled. Yet nearly all of them died before rescue came. But never mind. She didn't want to be the morbid realist, so she just nodded and said, "Yes, we would find a way." She brightened. "We could make a rope by tying together everyone's pants."

"There ya go! That's perfect."

"Because we don't need pants in freezing temperatures," muttered Isa.

Dexné remembered another time in school, during a study hall. She had on a faded raspberry colored shirt and a long beige skirt. It was the most colorful she'd been in months, excluding her rainbow vomit escapade.

Lea scratched his head and groaned. "I hate this subject!"

Dexné looked over at his paper. The objective was to identify all adjectives in an extremely wordy paragraph.

Dexné pointed to a word. "That one. It's modifying the noun." She continued to point out what he should highlight, relating why each time. "This is describing the scent… That's describing the feel of the earth…"

"You're pretty smart," he said after the worksheet was complete.

"Really? In algebra, I struggle just to get a C."

"Aw, algebra's not that hard." He smiled slyly. "Tell you what; I'll help you with algebra if you'll help me," he cast a withering glance at his paper, "with this stuff."

"'Kay," she agreed amiably. "But I'll have you know I do not process math quickly. The multitude of numbers overloads my brain."

He grinned, nudging her lightly. "Robot."

The beads of memories urgently strung themselves together without her consent. It was as if her subconscious was desperately trying to influence the decision she had yet to make.

Her sleep was likeable to a trampoline; she constantly rose and fell. She gave up a little after four in the morning.

She got up and did the things she had been too exhausted to do the night before, when she had come home from C.O. She washed and changed clothes, pulled out a different coat from her closet and put it on. She felt better after that. She disliked going on long missions without bathing, with her skin and clothes feeling grimier and oilier as the days dragged on. But now at least she was clean. However, she was still dizzy and fatigued, both from a fitful sleep and lack of food. She needed more water, too. What little she had at Castle Oblivion hadn't been enough.

Intent on visiting the kitchen, Dexné zipped her coat and was about to pull up her hood when she caught sight of a ghost in her window. The ghost, she swiftly realized, was nothing more than her faint reflection cast off the glass. Her tired eyes, shadowed and bruised looking, stared back at her.

I did this to me.

The intrusive thought was sudden, and took Dexné by surprise. Did she just…scold herself? It must be a result of rough sleep. She shook her head to clear her mind, her damp, limp hair barely moving with the motion. Her reflection did likewise, and then resumed staring.

She remembered what she looked like as a Somebody. As a Nobody, there weren't many differences. Weary shadows clung around her puffy, reddened eyes. Her complexion was more ashen. She was taller. And she could tell she was older. Exactly how old, she didn't know. She couldn't remember her original name, let alone her birthday.

She sighed and pulled her hood into place, tucking her hair down the back of the coat. Now there was nothing to be seen; exactly how she preferred it.

It was deathly quiet on her end of the castle. Not even a Dusk stirred. She imagined it would be a lot quieter on the other ends as well, considering nearly half their numbers were eliminated…

That brought her attention back to finishing her report for the Superior.

She recorded everything.

Everything from the Keyblader's entrance to Marluxia's demise and all that occurred in-between and after, up until Dexné left the castle.

But…there were a few minor differences.

Vexen perished after his battle with Sora.

Zexion met his end at the hands of Riku.

And that wasn't a lie. Vexen did die after fighting the Keybearer. Riku—or his replica—did kill Zexion. She just left out the little detail that Axel incinerated IV, his defeated comrade, and that he goaded the replica into absorbing VI, for reasons Dexné couldn't fathom.

It was because of all those little memories. She couldn't bring herself to include what Axel did; the possibility of him being executed was too high. Not to mention it would throw Saïx under scrutiny as well.

There was the possibility that her memories weren't real, that she'd just conjured them up for whatever reason. But until she was absolutely sure…she was going to play things on the safe side.

It wasn't an easy decision for her. She had always relayed everything to the Superior before. And now…she almost felt treacherous. But she justified her action. It was okay, because she would personally keep watch over Saïx and Axel. If whatever they were planning got too far, she'd step in and stop it before it reached the Superior.

The mere threat of her should make them back down.

Hopefully.

Dexné was called the Devouring Shadow for a reason.

She went straight to the Superior, handed him her finished report, and when he dismissed her, she bowed deeply in respect and left. He hadn't said much, and she hoped he didn't suspect she was hiding anything. She showed no signs of such. A good thing about being a Nobody: emotions couldn't trip her up, as they had done so many times in the past.

At seven o'clock Dexné went to the Grey Area to receive a new mission. She didn't see Axel, and assumed he was finishing up at C.O. Most likely retrieving Naminé. He'd probably be back in the evening.

Saïx handed Dexné her new mission brief without a word. She looked it over and then promptly headed to Halloween Town. She was to track down a group of Neoshadows and get rid of them. Neoshadows, being Pureblood Heartless, had no hearts to collect and therefore were a waste of Roxas' time.

Dexné never liked Halloween Town. It made her uncomfortable the first time she performed recon there and had since. Similar to the way she reacted to Marluxia's rose scent, the sight of graveyards made Dexné recoil. She did not like the tall skeleton man or the zombie-looking creatures either. She tended to keep her head down, her eyes away from the direct sights of the haunting world.

She drifted through shadows, climbed over walls, ascended locked gates—went everywhere and anywhere in search of the Heartless. She wanted to get this over with and leave already. The uneasiness of the world's atmosphere bore down on her like the weight of a tombstone.

Finally she found them, out in the middle of a grave field. Their glowing yellow eyes stood out against the night, like tiny bobbing lanterns. As the mission brief said, there were five Neoshadows.

Dexné did her best not to step on ground where the dead lay below, but she realized she would not be able to entertain her strange…reluctance…once in range of the Heartless. Neoshadows were formidable, and far more strategic than regular Shadow Heartless. She could not limit herself to specific patches of ground; she would need it all to evade.

For all their cunning, they hadn't noticed her yet. Her feet pressed down on the withered grass without so much as a whisper. She got closer, closer…and then closed the gap with a burst of speed. Black glass-like shards appeared and swiftly merged to form a long spiked chain that trailed out behind Dexné. She slid to a stop and used the momentum from her sprint to swing the chain before her, whipping a Neoshadow across the face. The spikes ripped little shreds of inky-black flesh from it. A split second later and Dexné was forced to dodge, leaping and rolling forward before dashing into another run.

With the element of invisibility and surprise gone, the Neoshadows converged on her.

Vanquished were her misgivings of tombs and untouchable ground. Instinct took over; thought process shut down. She used the standing headstones as shields. She dove behind one and the long black claws of a Neoshadow engraved the stone. She rolled forward, the claws of another raking up the dirt and grass where she'd been crouched.

She ran circles around them, and they around her. Out of all the Heartless, Neoshadows were known for their teamwork. Dexné was seeing it firsthand, as the dark creatures worked together to herd her into each other's claws. A couple Neoshadows charged from behind, two more came in from the sides, and Dexné had no choice but to rush toward the one coming in front. She tried to dash and roll past its side before it closed her in. She made it out just in time, but not without injury. Hot searing pain cut down her arm where its claws had caught her. She felt the rush of warm blood spread down her coat sleeve.

Instinct and adrenaline violently urged her past the pain. They continued their game of cats and mouse, a dance of shadows in the pale moonlight. Their slashing claws inflicted far more damage than her lashing chains—an unconventional weapon that was more useful for ascending and descending obstacles than battle. They kept on with their strategy of herding and boxing her in.

She was outnumbered, she was physically weaker, and she was rapidly growing tired.

But little did they know she was also herding them.

Blood pounded in her ears as she leapt to the side, just out of grasp. One Neoshadow pooled into the dark, then came up and nicked her leg. She ran, they pursued. Steadily she was leading them farther from the town and further into the field.

But she needed to end it soon; she was bleeding in multiple places.

Finally, they came to the edge of the field, where black trees stretched their fingers up into the sky. Now she did not run. She stood, chains hanging limply from her wrists, and allowed them to encircle her once more.

Dexné had three skills.

Her primary skill was remaining undetected.

Her second skill was evasion.

And her third…was the dead last resort. To be used only when absolutely necessary, only when in the right place at the right time. Now, away from anything important, exhausted and bleeding, and with the enemy surrounding her, the time had come.

She wished she was strong enough—strong like the other Organization members—to be able to take out opponents without resorting to the third skill. If she could feel it, Dexné would be frustrated. She hadn't even been able to defeat one, as she had hoped.

The Neoshadows fenced her, creeping in for the kill.

Dexné opened it.

She made a sort of circle with her arms, placing one above the other in front of her chest like she was holding a ball between them. In the center of the circle, at the center of her chest, bloomed a pitch-black dot.

The black dot immediately made its presence known.

Pull, pUll, pull, can you feel the PULL of—

Everything around Nulla, from the Neoshadows to the ground and air, was relentlessly pulled to her, to that black circle. The grass and dirt beneath Dexné's feet was ripped up and consumed. The air around her shrieked as it was swallowed—it was a loud scream that kept cutting off abruptly only to immediately begin again, like a broken record without end, consumed into a thundering silence. The trees closest to her were bending toward her; rocks from yards away were hastily rolling—falling, falling—to her.

Standing so near to Dexné, the Neoshadows had long since been devoured, dragged into the black chasm. Nothing was seen going in, however. Images, made of light, could not be seen once past the point of no return. The same was true for sound—it cut off once past that point. Red, the color that traveled the farthest, was the last hue to be seen from the things devoured.

Of the things that fell in, nothing was left. Pitch blackness was all that could be seen. Thundering silence was all that could be heard.

It devours, devours, devours—eVerYtHinG—

She struggled to close it. Her entire body trembled. Gradually, the black circle shrunk.

When it finally shut, Dexné had her arms wrapped around herself. Pebbles and dirt clods hit her feet, wind slapped her, larger rocks rolled to a stop, smaller ones flew at and pelted her, and most of the trees snapped upright. A few inflexible trees couldn't take the change, and deafening cracks were Dexné's only warning. She barely managed to stumble out of their way as they crashed to the ground.

The entire world was spinning and rocking. Dexné wavered on her feet before falling backward. She stared up at the moon, black spotting her vision. Her ears fluctuated from sound to no sound. Her mind was a scattered mess of jumbled, incoherent thoughts. All this went on for a few minutes. Then, steadily, all returned to normal.

All of that…for a few crummy Heartless.

Sighing deeply Dexné sat up, cautiously rising to her feet. She stared through the branches of the fallen trees, at the center of a depression in the ground. It was where she had stood; it spanned about twenty feet wide, the earth barren dirt and rock.

Can you feel the constant pull beneath you?

Dexné, Nulla of Organization XIII. The Devouring Shadow. Her "weapon" was spiked chains. Her attribute was gravity. And her limit was the Black Void. It was a force that differentiated between neither foe nor ally. Anything or anyone too close would be dragged in. She was usually sent on solo missions; if a comrade was near, she couldn't use it.

In essence, she was the trashcan of the Organization. The secret weapon they kept in the back of the closet. If it was in their way, and they couldn't make use of it, then Nulla was sent in to devour it. It was what she was sent to Castle Oblivion for. If all else failed, she was to devour the traitors. It would have damaged whatever room she was in, brought down the ceiling of said room and ate out the floor. Fortunately Axel was able to take care of everything, and the Black Void hadn't been needed.

She walked, intent on RTC-ing now that the mission was complete, only to stumble and fall flat on her face. Pain blossomed through her nose and cheeks. Dexné twitched her arms. With great difficulty and pain, she reached into one of her coat's hidden pockets, retrieving an elixir. It wasn't an ordinary elixir, which would be taken orally. The one she pulled out was like a compact syringe.

She struggled, pressing it to a vein in her arm. The device activated; a needle jabbed out, administering the medicine. A cool, tingling sensation flooded through her veins. She replaced the capsule in her pocket, and while doing so the elixir had already begun to take effect. The gashes she received from the Neoshadows were stitching themselves together, her body slowed its quivering, and her head started clearing.

Better, she stood and scanned the area.

No one saw. She did well, she thought. She was able to lure the Neoshadows far from the town. Not being seen by the denizens of the worlds was a top priority. It wasn't always this easy.

Mission accomplished, Dexné wobbled into a Dark Corridor.

Dexné came out of the portal into the Grey Area. She was heading for her room when she was stopped by one of the newest members.

Roxas gawked with big blue eyes. "Who are you?"

She didn't wish to stop and chat, but she couldn't ignore a direct query from another member. "…I am Dexné, Nulla."

"Oh… Are you new?"

"No, I have been here for a long time—long before you." She just wanted to go pass out in her room. But before she could even raise her foot to walk away, Number XIII asked another question.

"How come I've never seen you around? Where's your spot in the Proof of Existence?"

The Proof of Existence was a room in the castle. It housed stationary portals that, when passed through, would take one to a specific region of the castle, depending on which portal one used. Numbers II through XIII all had their own portal that would take them to their preferred dwelling. It must have been one of the first rooms Axel showed Roxas—to better explain his colleagues.

"…I am kept separate. Visiting my end of the castle is highly discouraged." Dexné imagined many of the weapon panels displayed at the base of the portals had turned from blue to red—indicating a deceased member.

The Chilly Academic. The Taciturn Stalwart. The Cloaked Schemer. The Graceful Assassin. The Savage Nymph.

All gone.

"Why?" Roxas asked many questions. He wasn't like Dexné, who did as told without inquires.

Dexné could explain the entire reason, but that would take up too much time. So she settled for the simplest answer. "I am beneath all other members—a tool, nothing more."

With that, she quietly excused herself before she could be interrogated further, leaving a bewildered XIII in her wake.

She did not have a place in the Proof of Existence. But neither did Xemnas or Xion. The Superior was the opposite of Dexné—he was above all members. As for why Xion didn't have one, Dexné didn't know.

Only Dusks ventured into Dexné's chamber. Rarely a member would. They were wary of the Devouring Shadow.

But in truth she was more wary of them.

In the grand scheme of things, gravity was actually one of the weakest attributes. Other forces, such as electricity, magnetism, heat of flame, tsunami, or wind gusts often exerted stronger influences; they changed things in life. The lay of the land could be burned away, quakes could raise mountains, lightning could split rock, wind could blow it all away, and water could wash it clean.

Gravity, on the other hand, was the silent constant. One never really acknowledged it…until they fell.

Again Dexné thought of the Neoshadows. If she could, she would feel stupid and weak. None of the others would've had to resort to their limit. Well, except Demyx, perhaps. It wasn't that he was weak; it was that he didn't want to apply the effort. As for the other members, she could picture them: Xigbar raining down bullets, Xaldin stirring up cyclones, Saïx decimating everything in his path, Axel's burning chakrams, slicing and searing, and Luxord confusing them with time and cards.

Dexné was not ignorant to any of her comrade's strengths. All of them had their own special attribute—elemental attacks that Dexné was feeble against. A quick lightning strike could deal fatal damage before she even attempted to use the Black Void. Dexné had always been extra cautious around Larxene, as her speed and power posed the most danger. Dexné didn't have to worry about Number XII's temper anymore... However, Xaldin was fast, and the wind that carried the six lances could easily harm her too.

Dexné's only true form of defense was evasion—she could not use magic. Why, no one knew. It might have had something to do with the Black Void.

How it grated her nerves when a magic-using Heartless caught her legs in ice.

And how she hated the cold, whispered the spark of a memory that failed to catch fire.

She pondered these things as she traversed the never-ending halls, her mind taking a turn towards sleep.

Then she caught sight of Saïx from the corner of her eye.

It didn't take her long to guess where he was going.

She remembered her silent vow to the Superior. She clenched and unclenched her fists, debating. Suppressing a sigh, she turned heel and followed, keeping the shadows close.

As she predicted, he was heading towards Axel's room.

Not a sound, not a sound, was the mantra repeating in Dexné's head as she trailed far behind Number VII. At many points she halted, second-guessing her chance of success. Saïx was no fool, and to top it off he was one of the physically strongest in the Organization. Dexné remembered nervousness, and knew she should be feeling it now. Thankfully, her lack of a heart prevented her from trembling.

The Luna Diviner had already entered Axel's room; the metal door was shut tight. Dexné crept closer, hoping to hear something, anything. She got as close as she dared. It wasn't very close, as she didn't want to trip the mechanical door into opening. She could imagine it: getting too close to the door, it opening automatically at her presence, leaving her standing there like an igit in full sight.

Fortunately, she was a little smarter than most gave her credit for. She couldn't hear anything, though. Then she saw a small vent and crept towards that. She kneeled next to it, and leaned her head down.

Luckily for her, it transmitted faint echoes.

"And…chamber…find it?" Sounded like Saïx. She pressed her ear to the vent, straining her hearing like never before.

"Come on, I would've told you that much." Axel's voice. "I gotta hand it to you… About Marluxia being one of the traitors. You knew exactly what was up from the start."

"Hmph," huffed Saïx. "I merely rounded up and sent off the ones who were getting in the way."

"Whoa there, was I one of those you wanted to erase? I worked hard for you, you know. Pawning off Nulla wasn't easy."

"…Are you sure that's what you did?"

Dexné's physical heart skipped a beat. Which was strange. Without the spiritual aspect of the heart...it shouldn't do that.

"You saw her come back, right?"

"Yes. But…she took longer than usual on her report."

"She was tried," Axel assured. "It's fine."

There was a pause, and then, "For your sake, I hope you're right. Good to see you made it back safe."

She could sense the conversation was coming to an end. Dexné wavered, torn between getting out of there and squeezing for a little more information. A few seconds later, and her indecision rewarded her. For once.

"I disposed of Zexion, by the way," said Axel.

That was all the proof she needed. They were planning something together all right. In one swift motion, she was on her feet and silently speeding down the hall. Just as she turned the corner, she heard the mechanical swoosh of the door opening.

Further down the hall, she broke into a run. She had to get to her room and lay low. She had to note—

She slammed into a body as she turned another corner. Her instincts screeched loudly, tearing at her belly, pushing her into fight-or-flight.

She stumbled back, and then let out a long sigh as she saw who it was.

"Hey there, Nulla!" Demyx waved. "I was hoping I'd run into you. Can I ask a favor?"

Dexné rubbed her pained nose; it had collided with Number IX's chin. "What is it?" she asked.

Being beneath all other members, everyone had an extent of authority over Dexné. They could command her; tell her to do things for them. To an extent. Only the Superior could dictate her use of the Black Void. The others, however, could shove a mission they didn't want onto her—as long as Dexné had the abilities to fulfil the goals. Demyx had a habit of abusing this privilege. Her title of Devouring Shadow didn't seem to deter him.

"I got this mission"—Here we go again, thought Nulla at IX's words—"I've been putting off, and Saïx said if it isn't done tomorrow he's gonna pit me against a giant Heartless. Anyway, I've got a ton of things to do; I won't get to it. Here're the papers."

He took the mission brief from his pocket and pushed it into her stomach. She was forced to take it. "It's a recon mission in that nasty place and I think you'd be waaaay better for it. You could be the same thing I am—so no problem!"

If it wasn't a problem, why wasn't he doing it himself? She had other things to do on top of her ordinary missions. Things like overseeing the Dusks in daily chores. Many times she had to step in when the Dusks messed up the laundry or burned dinner. She might as well be a Dusk, as involved with them as she was. And now there was Demyx, smiling pleasantly, expecting her to take his mission. Well, he had another thing coming…!

"As you say," she ended up rasping despite herself.

"Thanks a lot! I owe you one!" And then he was on his way, off to play his sitar more than likely.

Oh, no, he owned her more than one.

She was so tired. At least it could wait until tomorrow. She tucked the papers in a pocket and went for her room. But then she stopped suddenly.

What had Demyx meant...the same thing he was?

...

A/N: This story is a test for myself. I'm trying to see if I can write a "powerful" character without her becoming a "Mary Sue." I will be relying on reader's feedback to see if I'm doing it right. I've read writer's guides on this. Let's see if I can do it.

So what do you think?

I welcome constructive criticism. If something's wrong with the story, please tell me why so I can attempt fixing it.

Thank you for reading.