A/N: Thank you to those who provided feedback.
This chapter gave me a lot of trouble. Nothing looked right to me, and I must've reread and edited it over twenty times. Please let me know what you think.
...
::VI::
baggage of yesterday
Blurred images came and went with Dexné's flickering consciousness. She was being carried by white creatures, she registered that much. They were going down white halls lit by artificial lights—lights that shined too bright from the ceiling. Dexné could not move to look away, so she closed her eyes, and a blood-black curtain descended. When she opened them again the white creatures were taking her down a dimly lit hall. It was the Dusks, she realized. They were taking her to her room.
She closed her eyes once more. Everything faded.
When she woke, elixirs were being injected into both arms, and a Dusk was wiping her wounds with a cloth soaked in hi-potion.
"First Xion goes missing," she heard Xigbar say from the doorway, "and then our Voidling doesn't RTC from a simple recon mission."
"Extenuating circumstances," she rasped from her bed. Out of all the Organization, only the Superior had seen her face. Now Number II was added to the short list.
"I'm sure we'll hear all about it in your report." Xigbar grinned strangely—a signature grin of his that Dexné could never tell was malicious or not.
She didn't mention Kopa in her report; her excuses were of the dangerous wild animals—unpredictable and far more intelligent than an average Heartless. The chances of Roxas going there were slim to none. She wouldn't go back to the Pride Lands either. She heard the cub say he was getting his dad, which meant he was going home. And if his father was smart, he wouldn't let his son go gallivanting off again.
The cub and whatever "help" he managed to get together would find nothing in the crater she left behind. Nothing but blood, drag marks, and a hyena's footprints.
She didn't care. If that was what it took to get him home, then she should have played dead when she first collapsed from heat exhaustion.
Dexné's recovery took days despite the elixirs. The wounds were healed instantaneously, but the damage done by the Black Void required time. The Dusks tended to her. None of the other members checked on her. She found herself wondering if the Superior would come at least. He never did. But that was to be expected. Nobodies did not show concern with each other. They were comrades, colleagues, and to Somebodies it may seem cold not to care. But to do so would be the oddity—they had no spiritual hearts to care with.
That was why no one inquired about her, not even Demyx, and it had been his mission to start with. She took his bullet.
But, really, she couldn't blame anyone but herself for her condition.
In the meantime, Xion had been found by Axel and Roxas. Number XIV had struggled to locate and dispose of an invisible lizard Heartless, and apparently refused to RTC until the mission had been completed.
Dexné heard rumors about strange behavior through the whispers of the Dusks.
Apparently Axel, Roxas, and Xion were the subjects of said rumors.
Dexné's curiosity pulled at the reins, itching to get further, to know more. How were they being strange? What were they doing? If she could, she would find the answers.
But she could not; she was stuck in her room. It was still difficult for her to move, and she scarcely was able to get out of bed. So she lied there, forced to stare at the ceiling for hours on end. Though one could hardly tell time in the world that wasn't supposed to be, where night was forever. Sometimes she'd come out of her head long enough to look out the window, but it often seemed like nothing more than a black box.
Without choice, Dexné stayed content with her mind's inner workings, for there were things there that she was curious about as well.
One such thing was the fleeting, vague memory of her sprawled out on flagstone pavement, Lea shouting above her.
"Open your eyes!"
She had fallen—fallen a great distance. How, when? She tried to find out, find the missing shards to the incomplete picture puzzle that rested before her mind's eye.
She tried. But it was like pushing against a cement wall. It would not allow her to find, or to see. A black fog, a black wall—dense and impenetrable. She swam in that darkness, against that unceasing current, before conceding and diverging to find different pieces of memory.
The only ones she found shined red.
They were so different, she and Lea, yet the strangest similarities between them appeared…
They both liked to skip class for one.
She had always been seen as the quiet good girl, who did as told and never set a toe out of line. And that was true most days.
But there were some days when she just didn't want to comply, some days she struggled against the controlling puppeteer wires. She wasn't outward about it, didn't yell or kick or scream. It was a quiet defiance. A slight tug on the reins, a grind of teeth against the bit. Not loud, not ferocious. But it was there.
And when the teachers weren't looking she made her escape.
The bell would ring, signifying the switch of classes, but instead of going to her next class she would weave through the throngs of students, a thread of shadow, and slip out a side door.
The first time she did it wasn't easy. She half expected an alarm to sound, for handcuffs to clamp down. But when nothing happened, even after the second and third time, she eased. It wasn't difficult.
People hardly noticed she was there, and when she wasn't there they noticed even less.
She went to the same spot every time. It was behind the school, beyond the older buildings that weren't used much anymore. She stuck close to the shadow-girl the sun plastered against the brick walls, followed those walls until she came to a row of trees, then entered the dense woods within. Pine needles and leaves shivered under her shoes; the green canopy cloaked her in shade. She tip-toed like a careful deer, emerging from between the trees to a place that the woods circled protectively, to a small meadow of lush green grass. Peaceful, quiet, and speckled with little wild flowers. The wind moved through that place gently, almost lovingly.
She went out into the center of the meadow, laid down in the cool grass. Her big patchwork shoulder bag of books sat between her and the direction the school would be; a final barrier that shielded her in addition to the woods and the distance. She didn't want anything more to do with that place, or its people.
It was just her, the whispering wind, the waving grass, the sighing trees. She closed her tired eyes and let herself float in that small world of wonder.
It was nice like that, peaceful.
No questions, no expectations. Just nothing.
But that day she discovered she wasn't the only one who liked the quiet meadow.
"Well, well, never thought I'd find you here."
She jerked in surprise.
Lea walked over, the sun shining bright in his red hair, making the color come to life like a burst of fire. He stood over her, looking down into her face with a friendly smile. "Didn't mean to startle you," he teased.
"Yes you did," she replied guilelessly, resting her head down once more.
He laughed and settled himself in the grass right next to her.
She turned her head slightly to glance at him, the grass blades whispering at the movement.
He laid with his arms crossed behind his head, a serene smile playing at his lips. "Man," he sighed, "it's hard for me to get away, you know?"
"I suppose," she said quietly. "If I was bright like you, it'd be hard for me too. But with my coloring, I'm easy to overlook."
He frowned at that. "What, you think people don't notice?"
"They don't. Not me. And sometimes…that's good." She spoke candidly, openly. The more time she spent with Lea the easier it was. She was usually secretive, closed within herself. But Lea…he had a strange effect on her. Not only did he bring her out, he made her want to come out.
He looked over at her, and for a moment she was transfixed on his eyes as they caught the sun. "Hey, I notice. You think I can't see your empty seat in Ms. Cranky's class?"
He was speaking of the teacher that had the entire class berate him. "Cranky" was not her real name, but since present-time Dexné couldn't remember what it really was, Lea's nickname of "Ms. Cranky" would suffice.
"Way to leave me all alone with the witch, by the way." He lazily tapped her shoe with his.
"Oh," she stuttered slightly, "I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't realize…"
"Nah," he laughed gently, "you're fine. Gotta get away when you can, right?"
"Yes…"
They lapsed into companionable silence after that, watching the white clouds idly sail overhead. Strange, she wondered, when did the awkwardness leave the equation? The more she thought about it the less she cared. They were in the here, the now, and now they didn't have to bother with forced words and awkward silences.
She was glad.
The memory faded into a blur of warmth and comfort.
More shards fell, like shimmering raindrops against the backdrop of black, and brought another memory.
"I see you two like a little chicken to go with your ketchup," Isa was saying wryly as they sat eating lunch. He was looking pointedly at Lea and Dexné's equally smothered chicken tenders.
"Just a little," she replied softly.
Lea's palm slapped the table. "I knew I wasn't the only one who did that! See Isa? See?"
"Congratulations," drawled the blue-haired boy, "you're both unhealthy eaters."
Before Dexné knew it, the main ingredients and nutritional value of ketchup was splurging from her mouth. Both boys stared at her bewilderedly, and the dreaded feeling of embarrassment crept up on her. "And the tomatoes… Um…" she trailed off in quiet uncertainty, mumbling her next words. "I'll just…eat my chicken, then…"
Strangely enough, Lea's laughter did both to alleviate and aggravate her flustered state. "You're such a dorky robot," he said humorously, almost endearingly, as he bumped shoulders with her.
Isa shook his head, a smile sneaking its way onto his mouth. "You're both hopeless."
Dexné stirred a tender in her ketchup awkwardly, a shaky smile rebelling against the reticence.
Little things were discovered over time whilst eating lunch with Lea and Isa. She witnessed firsthand how picky an eater Lea was. He had to have things just so, or he wouldn't touch it. Almost everything had to have ketchup. Isa, on the other hand, was very balanced with his food choices. Dexné observed he preferred fruits like apples and bananas.
As for Dexné, it didn't matter what was in front of her. If it was edible, it was eaten, and whether she liked it or not was irrelevant. The fear of going hungry hung perpetually, a distant warning siren resonating from the back of her mind. She hated seeing edibles being thrown away, and Lea quickly learned he could push his unwanted food her way. Dexné would either eat it or save it for later.
Present-time, Dexné couldn't remember how she became so paranoid with food. All she knew was that there was a time when she was little and had nothing to eat. The pain caused by that hunger was so intense, so relentless…
𝑔𝓃𝒶𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓎 𝒽𝓊𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇
How could she have forgotten it? Why…why had she been so hungry?
Another memory, a spinning shard of red, cut through the black, severing the faintly glowing string that pulled Dexné toward unpleasant memoirs. The string flickered out of existence, and the red shard took Dexné elsewhere.
The screech of the last bell filled the school, and had students swarming out the doors like frenzied bees. She gathered her books in her bag, set the thick strap on her shoulder, and made her way outside for the long awaited walk home. She was almost to the exit door when she was stopped.
Lea was calling her name.
"Got any plans?" he asked once he caught up to her.
"Oh… I was just going home to read."
"Textbooks?"
She shrugged. "I guess."
"…Yeah, it's way past time we got you a new hobby. Come on," he said, then had her wrist clasped in his hand. He brought her to another exit where Isa waited impatiently.
Before she knew it the three of them were walking down colorful flagstone streets. She failed to contribute in their conversation. She was too distracted, too nervous and unsure. Her dark eyes darted to every corner, down every lane; she wondered where they were going. Judging by the slopes and stairs, they were heading up.
Fountains were everywhere. Water geysers shot up into the sky in shimmering crystalline arches, smaller fountains gurgled amidst stone walls and flowerbeds. Dexné couldn't recall who held providence in that world, but vaguely remembered something about a wise king. Evidently said king enjoyed fountains enough to have them installed around every corner.
They stopped by a small shop, and Lea went inside for something, but Dexné had been too distracted by, again, the surroundings and the timidity that was instilled in her by the unfamiliar roads and signs and people. These were not her usual paths, this was not her usual routine, and once more Lea had shaken her from the stability of her shell.
When Lea came out he was holding a bag of something, but Dexné didn't ask. They were on their way, to where she didn't know.
She found out soon enough.
It was a beautiful vista. A fountain bubbled nearby, adding to the ambiance. They stood on a stone-paved plateau overlooking a large span of the town they called home. Beyond that lied rolling mountains and forests and great lakes, and even the great castle that loomed over all looked glorious in the evening's golden glow, instead of the ominous giant she usually saw it as.
A thick stone half wall separated them from a steep drop on the other side. Unease resurfaced before it could fully leave as they seated themselves. Dexné kept a closer eye on Lea and Isa than herself, lest she lose the chance to grab them if they slipped.
Lea opened the bag and pulled out three light blue ice cream bars, each one on a stick. He handed one to Isa and the other to Dexné. She looked to them, saw them bite into the cold treat, and then proceeded to imitate. The frozen blue entered her mouth, touched her tongue…
And tasted like nothing.
In the present, Dexné's brow wrinkled with confusion. Strange. It was supposed to taste like something. Like something…but what? No matter how hard she racked her brain, the memory of the taste wouldn't come.
They ate in relative silence at first, just enjoying each other's company, watching the brilliant rays of the sun sink down and set their world in a fiery display of gold and orange and red. Then they spoke, about little things, everyday things. Then they joked and Lea's laughter and Isa's sarcasm filled the space. Dexné would laugh too, and whenever she did her hand would come up to mask her smile. Lea, sitting next to her, would often make an effort to snatch her hand away.
"Just add a little ketchup and I might gnaw it off," Lea jested after grabbing her hand for the third time.
Isa wrinkled his nose. "What is it with you and ketchup? And, no, you wouldn't."
"…Why does cannibalism keep entering our conversations?" Dexné questioned warily.
"You're the one who brought it up first," Isa pointed out.
"Days ago. Lea brought it up this time."
Said redhead added, "- - - - would rather eat bugs. I remember."
"Well, bugs have good protein," Dexné informed, "but I wouldn't eat them raw. You don't know where they've been. I bet they don't know where they have been either."
"Isa knows where they've been."
Mentioned teen glared at the redhead. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
Dexné hesitated, uncertain. "I think he implied you've been in the dirt with the bugs...?"
Isa idly flung his bare ice cream stick at the redhead, and Lea's laughter echoed even as the memory faded.
He had walked her home after they finished their ice cream. Isa had gone his own way, saying he had things to catch up on. Then Lea said something to Dexné about Isa's parents, how strict and demanding they were, and she suddenly felt a twinge of sympathy for the usually standoffish boy.
Her old house came into view, and with it, her mother, who was trimming the overgrown flower bushes up front. When she saw Dexné and Lea coming, she stood up tall and waved.
It was then present-time Dexné's breath hitched in her lungs. Shuddering, gasping, she gripped the sheets of her bed and tried to steady her system.
The memory…
It had shown her mother's face.
Round golden-framed glasses rested on the bridge of a slender nose. Her eyes, the brightest blue like snow in the sky, had crinkles etched around them, formed from years of smiles and laughter. Her colorless hair was pushed back from her forehead, but a few strands strayed to curl around her face, framing all the beautiful, happy lines she had gained over the times.
"Well," she spoke as the two of them neared, "is this the young man who keeps bothering you?" She said it kindly, the lines of her face deepening as she smiled.
For a split second Lea faltered, and Dexné almost missed it because his confidence bounced back like it hadn't happened. "Bothering? Nah, I'm making her day."
"Are you?"
"Yep," he replied surely.
Dexné's mother studied him for a moment, her scrutinizing gaze betraying the kind smile. Lea didn't flinch. He simply smiled back. But his eyes were guarded, awaiting judgment. Dexné's black eyes beseeched welcoming on his behalf.
Her mother's smile widened. "I see. It's nice to meet you, Lea. You may call me Mirron—no, don't bother with formalities, it makes me feel older than I already am." She chuckled heartily.
The smile reached Lea's eyes. "You knew my name already."
"Of course, - - - - talks of you fondly."
Dexné was quick to give her mother a look that pleaded, Stop, please stop.
"I told you I make her day," Lea stated proudly.
Mirron laughed. "He's a charmer."
"When he wants to be," Dexné found herself muttering. She nearly bit her tongue, but then saw that Lea was smiling still.
"Hey!" He playfully nudged her with his elbow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well it's not an insult," she defended. "When you want to be. It's a good thing. Some people can't be charming to save their lives."
Lea snorted. "You mean like Isa?"
His wisecrack incited a smile Dexné tried to fight down, making it crooked. "No. He can when he tries; when he's not being sarcastic and snarky." She held up her hands and shrugged, a meek motion of surrender, and said, "I meant like me."
"Like you?" Mirron raised her thin brows.
"Like me," she solidified simply, clasping her hands over her stomach.
"No way," Lea exclaimed brightly, "you've got plenty of charm, not to mention you're so nice." He was serious; his tone had shifted from teasing cheerfulness to matter-of-fact certainty.
Dexné stared, taken off guard. "I'm…nice?"
"He's right, dear." Mirron chimed in, then added ruefully, "It's why you get stepped on so much."
"Hey, anyone that steps on her steps on me—and I'm not so nice. Got it memorized?"
She marveled at him then. His declaration of defense for her may not have seemed so grand to him or anyone else, but to Dexné it meant so much. So much so that she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, and for a few seconds she couldn't breathe.
Lea grinned and patted her on the back. "I'll see you tomorrow, - - - -."
"Yes," she replied distantly, contentedly. But then, she realized, "Aw, no, I have to get up tomorrow."
He laughed as he walked off, calling back, "Yeah! You do! Bright and early, sunshine!"
A distressed noise akin to a goat groaning through a mouthful of grass came from Dexné's throat, and Lea's laughter flowed back to her ears. She smiled then, fully and without fear.
Going for ice cream became routine after that day. The timidity that affected Dexné melted little by little.
The unfamiliar streets and places gradually became familiar and expected.
After school, almost every day, they would sit on that same stone wall and eat that same sky-blue ice cream. They would talk, they would joke, they would laugh…
It was during those times Dexné learned another similarity she had with Lea. And it wasn't something so obvious as a shared rebellious streak, or the same fondness for condiments. No, it was far more subtle than those.
They both valued honesty.
He liked it when she was candid. She could tell by the appreciation that lit up his eyes whenever she was so, could tell by the thankful smile and ease of his shoulders. She could also tell when he didn't like her secretiveness; the slight narrowing of his eyes, the guessing speculation in them, the firmness of his mouth. Yet he could be secretive himself, just as secretive as Dexné, and it was surprising since he seemed so bright and open.
She understood he was human and had things to hide just like other people, but she wanted him honest with her, wanted to be honest with him, and so she made efforts to squelch her mistrust, her fear, and simply…speak.
If she was open, he would be too, she reasoned.
But it was easier thought than done. And it didn't help when he wouldn't be open himself—no matter how he played to be. His reserve didn't happen often, but it was annoying when it did. However she realized she was getting a taste of her own medicine, and she wondered how he put up with her.
But he did. If anything, he seemed to enjoy luring her from her shell. And Dexné still wasn't sure if she liked him for it. But then again, wasn't she…happy? She liked being with Lea, with Isa. It was a little overwhelming sometimes, but it was warm. It made her feel light, almost like she could fly. Not like the shadows—
𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕤, 𝕀'𝕞
—safe, but forever cold and heavy.
She liked being in their presence, and from what she could tell, they enjoyed her presence too.
For the first time she could remember, there were people besides her parents who actually wanted her around.
Present Dexné's eyes snapped open, a sudden realization occurring.
Isa, Lea, and she…
They talked and laughed together, often about the dumbest things.
And…they ate ice cream together too.
Friends…eat ice cream together…and talk and laugh…
"I don't…believe it," she gasped, gripping her sheets in her balled fists. "I…I had friends. I really had friends. Lea, Isa…my friends."
She wanted to see him, if only a glimpse, and so when she was able to move normally again she went to Twilight Town.
There, in the golden distance, she saw three figures sitting on the clock tower's ledge.
She watched them for the longest time, something within her itching, almost…yearning. That used to be her. It used to be her sitting next to him, the one who was once called Lea. Unless her memories were fabricated. She quickly veered away from the considerations that had haunted her since Castle Oblivion and the disappearance of Naminé. No, she thought. It had to be real. Naminé didn't touch her mind—she was having recollections long before she went anywhere near that memory witch.
Yet there Dexné was, standing alone in the shade of the overpass, as if she never had any friends.
As if she had never stepped out into the light.
Something bad stirred within her then, shadows shuddered and convoluted, and she had to turn away from the sight of the three friends, sitting on a ledge, eating ice cream together.
The next morn, a Dusk was sent to summon her to Saïx.
His golden eyes (green, a voice hissed at the back of her mind, they're supposed to be green) narrowed shrewdly. "I trusted you were smart enough not to nearly get yourself eliminated," he said sharply, speaking of her botched recon mission in the Pride Lands, "but I was wrong."
She made no reply. She just stood there, waiting. Something deep within her squirmed with the hope that his expression would soften, as Isa's once did. But it didn't. He simply handed her another mission briefing paper, the coldness never leaving his face. She read the briefing quickly.
It said she was to track and observe Number XIV, Xion.
"Take special note on how it uses the keyblade," Saïx detailed, and she was off to do just that.
Dexné hadn't even known Xion could use the keyblade. And had Saïx just called Number XIV an it?
She shadowed both Xion and Roxas to Agrabah, and throughout the entire mission not once did she see XIV use the keyblade.
She hugged the shade, crouched amongst dunes, crawled through sand like a black cobra. She tracked the two newest members everywhere. But when she saw them caught, and questioned, by a blue genie, she waited on bated breath. She crept close enough to hear them, her belly dragging in the hot sand of a dune, and was not pleased at how the two handled the situation.
Hadn't Vexen taught Roxas to blend in with local denizens, or at least make himself seem less suspicious? Surely, Number IV hadn't expected Roxas to always stay out of sight. And who had taught Xion?
Thankfully, they were able to escape the genie and his prying questions. But Dexné couldn't leave it at that. If they were ever trapped like that again they needed to know how to smoothly get out of it. Otherwise they could put the Organization's secrecy at risk.
She wavered, wondering if she should just report it and have another member instruct them. Deciding it was too important to wait, Dexné approached them right before they RTC'd, tearing away from shadow's embrace.
They both stiffened when they saw her. Xion leaned over, whispering, "Who is that?" only to hastily straighten up as Dexné stopped before them.
"Number XIII," she acknowledged Roxas, and the boy's eyes lit up in recognition.
"Oh, it's you…Nulla? Or was it Dexné?"
"Either or," she replied.
The dry air filled with the buzz of silence, awkward tension mingling with sandy particles.
"Um…" Roxas appeared confused. "We were just about to RTC…"
"The genie."
"Huh?"
"The genie. The blue creature that was questioning you," she clarified, having about as much social smoothness as a cactus. Nobody or Somebody, that hadn't changed.
"How do you know about that?" Uneasy suspicion edged into Xion's tone.
"I was scouting the area for Heartless—happened to come across you," she concealed, keeping her tone flat. "Tell me, did Vexen ever instruct either of you what to do in the circumstance you are interrogated by a denizen?"
Roxas thought for a moment. "No. He just said to keep a low profile."
"…I see. An oversight on his part, especially considering the event just happened. You drew undo suspicion to yourselves."
"Are we in trouble?" Xion asked, and if Dexné didn't know better she would've thought XIV nervous.
"…I am merely here to assist. It is my duty. It is of upmost importance neither of you blow our cover."
Roxas looked down glumly. "I know that…"
Dexné hesitated. She wasn't sure if she had the right. Though new, they still ranked above her. She pressed on gently. "If…I may offer some advice…"
"Sure." Xion nodded, and the black hood concealing XIV's face bobbed slightly.
"Silence can draw suspicion. Outright lies can be forgotten, and if you give different answers to the same question… Let's just say they'll know something's wrong. It is better to give them a vague version of the truth."
Roxas furrowed his brow. "How do we do that?"
"If someone asks where you're from or who you are, tell them you're travelers. You come from lots of places—here to see the world. It is not a lie, yet you are not telling them everything. Keep the answers short."
Dexné paused, thinking of things to add. "Try answering their questions with more questions. Say you're in a hurry and someone is waiting for you. If they mention your matching coats, make fun of your fashion choices. Making fun of yourself is a good way to disarm he situation, or so I've read. Either way, be careful, be vague. Most importantly, try to stay out of sight in the first place."
Roxas nodded. "Okay, got it."
"Thanks for the advice," Xion added.
They stared at each other then, Roxas, Xion, and Dexné. None of them knew what to say. The three seemed to share social incompetence. Roxas stared amicably. Xion, on the other hand, could not be gauged, face shrouded by the black hood. Dexné took solace in the fact her face could not be seen either.
Finally Dexné broke the silence that seemed to trap them. "…My apologies for delaying you."
With that, Dexné allowed herself to be consumed by a Dark Corridor. She hoped she gave them good counsel, wondered if another member would have been able to explain it better.
Later on the Superior had called a meeting, summoning everyone to the top of the castle.
Dexné stayed back from everyone else, hiding halfway behind the wall near the stairs.
"And at long last, we see before us the great collection of hearts..." Xemnas spoke slowly, almost reverently, as he raised his arms to the heart-shaped moon in the black sky. "Shining down upon us is the crystallization of all hearts—Kingdom Hearts."
Dexné listened attentively to the man who founded the Organization. She didn't have a heart, but she didn't need one to respect Xemnas. His very existence seemed to garner it. He was the one who brought together heartless souls, gave them names, a purpose, and a home. He unified those who had no feelings or attachments.
That alone was an incredible feat.
But she held no care for the heart-shaped moon, or the talk of gaining and conquering hearts. She was where she was because of the Superior; he was the one who found her. He was the master; she was the dog.
Her memories showed her as a solemn girl, and she supposed she grew into a solemn woman. But Dexné saw herself as neither girl nor woman. She saw herself as an it, a thing, a weapon (then why did Axel calling her a thing disturb her?). Yet she was above ordinary weaponry; she had a mind of her own. Like a military dog, able to plan and react to circumstances. More than a gun, she could expand on her master's will without him constantly having to have a hand in the situation. It freed the master, and made Dexné far above any inanimate device.
His most valuable weapon. The thought made her feel lighter than usual. Almost proud.
Dexné always did as told. To defy the Superior was unthinkable, not because he could destroy her, but because his frown of displeasure, however slight, seemed to cause Dexné's chest to tighten and twist. And if she did as told, and did well, then he just might grace her with a nod of approval.
She strived for that minuscule nod.
But now other reasons existed, blossoming into her mind along with her memory.
Pleasing the other members was important; they were her pack, her herd, her family, and they held command over her too. If they wanted their spiritual hearts, then that was enough incentive for Dexné to strive toward that goal with them, though she didn't want one for herself.
However, two stood out above the rest.
Her eyes scanned the line of members, and they lingered on red and blue.
She wanted to see Lea's smile again. His real smile.
She wanted to see Isa's green eyes once more.
If gaining hearts would bring that about, then she would do anything they commanded in accordance to that will.
...Even if it brought harm to her in the end.
"Number XIV has not used the keyblade. Not once. According to this one's observations, XIV cannot use it… It would seem Number XIII is attempting to retrain XIV."
"I see," Saïx replied icily. "So that's what he was playing at," he said, and Dexné knew he spoke of Axel. "Continue your observations. If it relearns to use the keyblade then there is no foul. But if it doesn't…" His golden eyes cut to her. "You will get rid of it, Nulla."
"…As you say," she rasped softly, and an unsettling sensation knotted in her gut. "Number VII," she called as he walked away. Saïx glared over his shoulder, and Dexné wavered. "Never mind," she rasped in place of her query, then quickly left.
It was not like her to question. She doubted he would have told her anyway.
She walked the halls, thinking about her assignment. Why did Saïx keep calling Xion an it? Not only that, there seemed to be something strange about Xion in general. The more she thought, the more it bothered her. She wanted to know, she had to know. Her curiosity pounded the ground with its hooves.
She stopped abruptly. Vexen's library, she thought, and swiftly turned heel in its direction. He and Zexion had been in charge of keeping records, and had documentation on all members. Physical status, elemental attributes, and whatnot. Perhaps he had something relating to Xion.
She was careful with the books. She pulled them from the selves cautiously, turned pages like she was holding a baby's hand, and slid them back into their cradles, their slots on the shelves, with exact precision so that nothing would be out of place.
When she at last came across member records, she lingered over Saïx and Axel's. Height, weight, age, and blood type were sprawled in front of her. Both were around the same height—at least a head taller than Dexné. And Saïx's weight was predictable, as he was obviously muscled, but Axel's weight surprised her. He was so lithe; she expected the number to be lower. As for age, turned out they were approximately twenty-six years old. Dexné figured she must be around that age too.
Dexné suddenly became uncomfortable, like she was snooping where she shouldn't. She tucked VII and VIII's records away where they belonged.
Curious, she looked for her records, but couldn't find any. She was not grouped with the others, it seemed.
Dexné learned a lot from those books, and learned a lot about Xion, especially once she came across Vexen's personal notes. She had to read them more than once, as she had trouble comprehending it all. But once she was done, she had a fairly clear understanding.
She now knew exactly why Saïx referred to Xion as he did.
Puppet, she thought. How interesting. Did Axel know?
His new companion was nothing more than a replica.
Dexné continued her observance, as ordered.
She watched them take on a Neoshadow mission. Normally there would be no need—Neoshadows did not release any spiritual hearts to collect. It was a test, Dexné realized, to see how far along they'd come. Did they have the strength; did they have the ability to strategize when it came to a smarter opponent? Dexné would get to see firsthand.
And they did—or rather, Roxas did. He was defeating Neoshadows far easier than Dexné ever did. Granted, he faced two at the most. But still…
All he's doing is throwing that stupid key's weight around. Dexné narrowed her eyes. No technique, no precision. She saw no value in the keyblade.
Xion distracted the Neoshadows with magic and Roxas charged in with deadly blows. Dexné noted how they worked together, noted how much nicer it was working with someone. Dexné worked alone; it was just her to fend off enemies. She would dodge for her life and still come out wounded and broken and in need of elixirs. And all they had to do was shoot off their spells and throw their stupid keyblades around.
And then, afterwards, they'd get to go up to that clock tower and enjoy the beautiful view and eat their precious ice cream…
There was a twisting sensation again. Right in Dexné's gut. She wondered what it was.
Envy, something whispered in the back of her mind, but she did not listen. It was not possible. She could not feel. She was glad she couldn't feel.
Something snapped in her head.
I don't want to feel anymore—it hurts. It hurts.
𝓲𝓯 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵
𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟'𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕥
Dexné went rigid, the breath freezing in her lungs. What was that? Was that a thought, a memory? It was her voice.
Before she could ponder it, more Neoshadows materialized—a pack of three.
Dexné waited for Roxas and Xion to fight, waited to see if perhaps XIV would be able to use the keyblade this time. But instead, a great beast leapt from one of the halls, jumping into the fray and taking out each Heartless with one swipe of his mighty claws. Roxas and Xion had wisely hidden.
"The Heartless do not belong here—not in my castle!" roared the beast, before it prowled off in search of more to prey upon.
Dexné pressed herself close to the wall, back into a nook, and melted into the shadows. She could hear Xaldin's "project" huff and growl as he went by her. When she was sure he was gone, she slipped out and took up a position closer to Numbers XIII and XIV.
"I don't get it," she heard Roxas say, "That beast is the master here, right? But if Heartless showed up in our castle, we'd be the ones to get rid of them, not Xemnas."
Dexné felt her brow pinch in confusion. Was it wrong for the dog to attack the intruder before it got to the master? Or did they not see themselves in that way? Black eyes narrowed to slits. Then stand back, little masters, and I will devour all that seeks to harm us.
She was the dog of the Organization, after all. It was her job.
She watched them leave, knowing where they were going now that their mission was done. The needles started prickling her mind again, but this time it was in her chest too. And it caused her to do something she wouldn't have done otherwise.
She followed them.
If the worst happened, if he saw her…
She imagined Vexen and the way he combusted. She recalled Zexion's pleas for mercy. It caused her to stop and consider turning around.
But then she continued forward. She had to. It was her memories, the echoes of voices long gone—they always seemed to push her toward Axel.
She followed them up the clock tower. And she finally understood what the Dusks had meant by "strange behavior."
Axel, Roxas, and Xion—they were acting just like humans. Spiritual hearts and all.
Dexné was staring at their backs as they sat up on the ledge, the sun gleaming on the three of them. She was hidden in the tower, shrouded in the shadows within, looking out the glassless gothic windows. She couldn't afford to make a sound—not even breathe too loudly. She was pressed to the wall, in the corner, next to another row of gothic windows. The tower had the windows in the front and the back, so she could escape out the back if need be.
She watched them, or rather, she watched him. The setting sun set fire to the color of his hair, made it shine like the blood of life. Just like back then…
When a picture split through her head—a picture of a man who was older than Lea but younger than Axel—Dexné knew she'd known him longer than that first year of high school.
When had it gone wrong? How did they end up where they were now?
Dexné stared, eyes big with fascination as he turned to his companions and smiled—that same warm smile.
Dexné had two different images of a single person in her mind. One was called Axel, the other was Lea. At Castle Oblivion, a sharp wedge had been thrust between the two. Axel's eyes were cold, his smile a lie, his words a manipulation. Lea's eyes were bright with kindness, his smile an honest warmth, his words prodding encouragement.
But, looking at him now, the two pictures were melding back together to form one. Axel was becoming Lea; Lea was becoming Axel. It was getting harder to tell them apart. And the picture of the man who spanned the gap between the Somebody and Nobody made it more so. Because now she could see them smile the same. Hear them laugh the same. Same eyes, same hair, same brow, same nose.
The differences were disappearing before her very eyes. But, no, she had to keep telling herself, they weren't the same. He wasn't the same. He had changed. He was dangerous. Dexné did not know where his loyalties lied. Or Saïx's loyalty for that matter.
"I don't know how much longer we can fool the other members," Xion lamented.
"Relax," Roxas consoled, "we'll be fine."
"Don't be so sure. They're not stupid." Axel was the one to burst the bubble.
And he was right. We already know, she projected mentally, though knew he could not hear her thoughts.
"Well, maybe Saïx and Xigbar are tough to fool, but come on—Demyx?"
Axel laughed. "Ouch! Roxas, that's not cool."
"But look at him! All he does is play his sitar all the time."
"I don't think you give him enough credit. He works just as hard as—" Axel looked towards the sun. "Okay, no, he doesn't. But I'm pretty sure he has a job."
Something fluttered in Dexné's stomach. Then there was the bubbly feeling. No, she told herself. Easy. Keep Quiet. Nobodies don't laugh. Especially not you.
They went on talking about Demyx and his "job."
But then, the conversation turned where Dexné least expected it—to herself.
"Nulla works hard though, doesn't she?" Roxas stated more than questioned.
"Yeah," Xion chimed in. "I hardly ever see her, but when I do, it's late. Really late. She RTC's after everyone else. And she's gone before we even get up."
Axel glanced at the two of them, and Dexné could tell by the stiffness of his shoulders he was uneasy. "…Guys, you need to be careful around Nulla. Don't go near that one if you can help it."
"How come?" Roxas asked naively.
Axel sighed. "It's…kinda difficult to explain. She's a Voidling, for starters. She's dangerous."
Xion leaned over. "What's a Voidling?"
"That's difficult to explain too. They're an irregular type of Nobody, we think. You know what a black hole is?"
They shook their heads, and Axel sighed once more. He then commenced explaining black holes, the relentless wells of gravity.
"So basically, once you're past the event horizon—that's it. You're gone," he finished.
"But…she wouldn't do that, would she? We're comrades." That was Roxas, sounding gloomy.
"Don't know. From what I've heard they can't be controlled. I have no idea how Xemnas did it. Either way, stay away from Nulla. You never know what'll happen."
As Dexné listened, she didn't know what to think. Numbness completely wiped out the bubbly feeling from earlier. Did Axel…did he want her gone? The very thought made something in Dexné curl in on itself.
What would he think…if he saw her face? Would he know? Would he say her name—her true name? Or…
Dexné gripped her fists together. Could she really risk having what little memories she possessed go up in smoke? If he didn't know her, if her memories were proven false… Or if he saw her and hated her for a reason she could not remember… If he went after her like he did with Vexen…
Dexné did not want to face either of those possibilities.
She stayed in shadow, where all was safe.
And heavy. And cold.
She wondered, dreamed about what it would be like if she showed herself and he was actually glad to see her. If he smiled at her again... The fluttery feeling came back at that. She wanted it to be so, wanted him to be happy with her presence again, and not wary. But could she blame him? Anyone would be cautious of a black hole.
There were three possible outcomes if she were to reveal herself. Two were bad, one was good.
The dream was outweighed by the nightmares.
Dexné tucked herself closer to the wall. She had spaced out and their talk had gone to another subject. Uncannily, they spoke of memories. Roxas and Xion did not have memories of their former lives, and so were asking Axel about his.
Dexné's breath caught in her throat at this. Would he mention her? Would she get to hear her name—would she know it if she did? A familiar tingling zapped through her—the ghost of excitement.
And then died. With one simple word.
"It's just baggage, you know."
Eyes wide, she shrunk back into the cold, hard wall. How could he say that? His past was…baggage?
She didn't want to hear any more.
She eased her way to the stairs, located in the center of the shadowed room. She could not even breathe as she traversed those old steps. Luckily they were stone. Nevertheless she braced against the stone walls to make herself small, and sliced down through the air like a nonexistent whisper. Only when she was far enough down did she Corridor out.
She went straight to her room, locked the metal door, and slowly sunk onto her bed.
There she could do nothing but stare into space, that one word playing over and over in her head.
To the Superior she was invaluable—never before was a Voidling found so tame, so complacent. Little was known of them, but what was known was this: Voidlings were blind, deaf, mute, and predictable only in the fact that they could not be predicted. No images or words were supposed to be able to reach them. They could not be reasoned with. They would devour, for that was all they knew to do.
Dexné didn't know why she was not as other Voidlings supposedly were. She could see, hear, and speak. Perhaps it was metaphorical? She didn't know. Vexen didn't know either, and he wouldn't risk testing her. Because he was wary. They all were. They had right to be. Anything that got too close when the Black Void was opened was doomed. Anything that crossed the event horizon, the point of no return, was devoured. No object, no being could escape, nor did any light they resonated or sound they cried.
The Voidlings could not escape either. The Black Void was imbued in their souls, clung to their very being.
Voidlings were black holes incarnate.
Voidlings were dangerous.
So she couldn't blame Axel for what he said. It was probably good of him to warn Roxas and Xion.
What he said about the Voidling was true—it did not distress her. However, what he said about the past, about her as a human…
Dexné paced in her room, barely remembered to finish a report, then went back to pacing. She held her head in her hands, the echoes of the past clashing with the bellowing shouts of the present.
She did not sleep that night.
In the morning she crossed him in the hall.
He saw her and immediately side-stepped, giving her a wide berth. So swift she nearly missed it, he cut her a wary side-glare. It stopped her in her tracks.
His footsteps resounded behind her, getting farther and farther away, until they could no longer be heard, and the echoes faded against the stark walls.
To the Superior she was invaluable. To Lea she was the baggage of yesterday.
A/N: Editing still takes forever.
Thank you for reading.
Please let me know what you think.