::VII::
Axel bought them one more day.
After Dexné's last report, Saïx drew a line in the sand. He attempted splitting Xion up from Roxas. XIV's incompetence would no doubt be revealed on a solo mission, and thus the order to eliminate could be submitted.
Dexné watched from the dark hall as Axel swooped in, throwing excuses, saying the Heartless in Beast's Castle was too much for just one to take on. Saïx eventually relented, but said it would be the last time.
He saved them, Dexné mulled as she went out on her own mission. Or rather he saved it—the puppet. Why?
"'Cause we're friends,"came a ghost's reply. Dexné grimaced. It would be so typical of him to say that.
Fatigue weighed her down and gravity beckoned her to fall, but orders tugged her along. She didn't know what exhausted her more, the lack of sleep or the fact that she continued shadowing those two. Watching them made her feel so heavy and weak, like a boulder was rolling on top of her and pressing her down. Every act of friendship they displayed added more mass to the boulder.
Thankfully that day was the last. As luck would have it, Xion finally relearned to use the keyblade on that final mission with Roxas.
And Dexné must have been masochistic, because she followed them up to the clock tower again. She wasn't stalking, she argued to herself. Stalking was following and watching with the intent to harm. Dexné had no intention of harming. She just wanted to know, she wanted to see. She wanted to see and hear Axel act like Lea again. What Dexné was doing was merely…observing. Like a zoologist observed animals. That was all.
And so she watched, she listened, she learned.
During her next mission she was unable to concentrate. She walked in a daze, her mind continuously replaying what Axel had said on the clock tower.
"As long as we keep each other in our thoughts, we'll never be apart."
He explained the sentiment so gently, with the care of a real friend. It was a steep contrast to the ruthlessness he bestowed upon his comrades at Castle Oblivion, and Dexné still marveled at the change, a disposition dependent on specific persons. She had simmered in the shadows, trying to figure out what made XIII and XIV so special. How did they attain such comforting words from him? The ravenous wolves of uncertainty tore at her insides. What category would she fall into? Would she incite tender words to catch her like wings in a fall? Or would she receive cold dismissal with a snap of his fingers and be gone in a burst of flame, snuffed out faster than a snowflake?
But then she remembered. He said something similar once, back when he was a Somebody and she was little more than a shadow with a face—a nobody in the general sense of the word. He said it to her before the name Dexné ever existed. The blackness in her subconscious slipped out what her response had been, so long ago…
"And if…I lose my mind? What then?"
Her voice had been so sad, so…defeated. She couldn't remember why. Perhaps it was because, somehow, her younger self foresaw the future. The premonition came true; she lost her mind. Her memory was scattered, littered with gaping black holes, the pieces that hadn't fallen in just barely beginning to puzzle back together. How and when it became that way she wished to know. She wondered if it was her fault things ended up as they did.
Dexné stopped at the water's edge, dragging herself away from contemplations long enough to gaze out over the sea of Neverland and its surrounding bay. The waves hissed and the gulls cried overhead. No sign of Heartless. It appeared to be nothing more than a tranquil cove. But something didn't feel right; her instinct began pacing restlessly.
Tick tock.
Dexné went ridged, her legs slightly bent like springboards under strain. What was that sound? Her eyes slipped off the rocky shore and into the murky water.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
The muffled sound was growing clearer. And it was getting closer. Far too close for comfort.
With jackrabbit alertness, Dexné squinted into the watery abyss. She saw the shadow coming from the depths.
Dexné's legs sprang her backwards and not a second later did a monstrous green crocodile lunge out of the water, its wide jaws snapping closed on empty air. Black splinters materialized and stabbed together to form her chains. She held the long loop out in front of her, the dark metal clinking menacingly.
The crocodile dragged its belly up on land. The reptile was easily over twenty feet long, and it eyed her with hungry amber slits. Opening its maw, it let out a loud hiss. And, strangely enough, the ticking of a clock resounded with it.
They stared each other down, both motionless portraits. The crocodile's bumpy hide appeared like boiling stone, quiet and unmoving but ready to burst at any given moment. Dexné was poised like a startled deer, ready to run. She wouldn't fight it or even go near it; she'd read crocodiles possessed one of the strongest bite forces known to man. If she got caught in those jaws it would be game over. For either her or the crocodile.
A glint sparked in its eye. It was going to charge her.
Just as it seemed the picture would break into a movie, the creature's attention was stolen by a rowboat heading out of the cove. Another hiss and it was retreating back into the salty waves, the ticking sound receding with it.
Dexné kept her chains out, ever the cautious one. The cold metal slithered around her wrists, up her arms, and dangled. She moved very carefully, lest the clink-clink announce her arrival like the tick-tock did with the crocodile.
She walked along the rocks like a treed cat, watching the crocodile snake to the rowboat.
An uncertain shout budded and then withered in her throat before it could be expelled. She wished to warn the two men in the little boat, yet she didn't want to call attention to herself. Her raspy voice wasn't likely to carry either.
As it turned out, she didn't have to warn them. The ticking noise did that.
The tall skinny man dressed in fancy red whirled his head to the sound of the clock and, upon seeing the crocodile, gave a terrified shout. "Faster, Smee! Faster!"
The short fat man complied immediately, his pudgy arms rowing furiously. "A-aye, aye, Captain!"
The little boat gushed forward, out into the open ocean where a ship with splendorous sails waited. Dexné could see the crew scurry about the deck. Pirates, it seemed. And their captain, the tall man in red.
They weren't rowing fast enough. Or, "Smee" wasn't rowing fast enough. The captain wasn't rowing at all. They wouldn't make it to the ship before the crocodile caught them.
A moment of indecisiveness hung, and with no orders it remained so. No orders, no motives. Until something in her head snapped. The empty scales in her mind that weighed even crashed, and, like an animal mindlessly obeying instinct, she was propelled to move.
Dexné sprinted down a sandy slope, her legs lifting high as she splashed into the water. Then she kept splashing, making as much disturbance as she could. The crocodile slowed and turned to check out the commotion. The captain and his first mate continued on.
She wasn't sure what she was doing, all she knew was that she absolutely couldn't let that crocodile get the men. Dexné fell to her knees, water lapping at her waist, and thrashed like a wounded animal. To add to it, she dug a barb from her chains into skin, drawing blood. The crocodile swam to her in earnest.
Tick tock. I hate that sound. Tick tock.
A shard, a memory half buried screamed at Dexné tostop the clock.
When the reptile drew close, she ceased her struggling and reached out with both arms as if she were going to embrace it. And then she let it happen. It was gentle at first, a prodding tug, before erupting to its true potential. Water, air, and earth were stripped—all falling into the black ball that bloomed in Dexné's empty chest. Along with them went the crocodile. A stretched line of green bleeding into red was the last anyone ever saw of it.
The tick-tock had stopped.
Shakily, Dexné wrapped her arms round herself, slowly shrinking the Black Void. The air moaned as its shrieking decelerated, and it rattled Dexné's coat while the water bucked free like an angry whale, slapping her with its stray waves, and the bits of earth not devoured pelted Dexné as the black hole was finally shut. The Void had left a miniature hurricane in its wake.
Stumbling back onto the bared shore, Dexné cast a gaze over the churning water to see the men make it to their ship. The short one was slumped over, huffing, as his crewmates bustled by him like he wasn't there. The captain, however, stood tall and proud among his fleet, and all skittered fearfully about him.
For a breath of a moment, Dexné locked eyes with the captain.
Luxurious black hair spilled down from a large feathery hat and from his thick angular face sprouted a stringy, twirled moustache like that of a catfish. He raised his hand, which wasn't a hand but a hook, and with its point he tipped his cap to her. A slow, devilish grin of approval and thanks spread his face. Dexné turned away, feeling oddly unsettled.
Dexné staggered through the rest of her recon mission, tallying the Heartless, taking note of types and areas they appeared most. While doing so she kept thinking about the captain, and why she went to such measures to help him. Or was it even for him?
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
Dexné froze, eyes shooting wildly, looking for any sign of the crocodile. There was nothing. Of course there was nothing. The crocodile was gone—for good. So what was she hearing? Dexné's eyes scoured all directions for the source.
Tick…tock…went the dying clock. Ti…ck…toc…k… And its hands move…no more.
Before Dexné could realize it was all in her head, dizziness assaulted without preamble. She stumbled, not getting far before tripping. Her hands went out to catch her but her arms buckled uselessly. She laid with her cheek pressed to the cool earth, the world around her rocking like a battered ship on the high seas.
She sat in an empty house. The clockwork was all that spoke to her, but then it spoke no more. She wished it had stopped sooner. As it was, it was too late; it had already given away what was hers. She would never get it back.
A violent shiver charged down her spine. The shards, normally sliding into place, were shattering off course and slicing her, sticking into her brain. She grabbed her head, pain splitting through it, and a raw scream ripped through her. She screamed until all she saw was red.
Red, and then nothing.
The pain stopped, and Dexné was left staring up into a cold blue sky, cloudless, mirthless. Then her vision tunneled, and she let it happen. She did not fight it.
The resonance of a grandfather clock, ringing its deep chime, filled her mind.
That's right. Her father… Her father had worked with clocks. There were clocks all over her house. The sophisticated grandfather clock in the living room, the elegant wall clock in the entryway, the small clock with birds carved into its frame…
Light burst forth, washing away the aches in her head. With it came memories of her father, a strong man who spoke softly.
"Wilam! Oh, Wilam?" called Dexné's mother. "Where is that man? Dear, go get your father, please."
The little legs of a child clambered up the stairs. She was a young girl, no older than ten.
Dexné found him where she usually did—at his work bench. His dark fuzzy brows were scrunched low as he worked with tiny contraptions in old clocks.
"Dad?" Her voice was small, imploring. "Mom wants you."
He glanced up, his deep blue eyes twinkling, replying that he'd be there in a minute. He was never in a hurry. His face was tanned and weathered, and his salt-and-pepper hair was thinning near his temples. But all-in-all he was a nice looking man. He kept his workspace like he kept himself: clean and tidy.
Dexné remembered when she'd watch him in evening's glow, a big man so composed and serene, so in his element while tinkering. He spied her watching him work once, and with a flick of his hand he beckoned her over to him. She pulled up a chair, sat beside him, little legs dangling, and listened as he explained what he was doing. Many of his words flew over her head, many terms and names she didn't know, and when he asked her if she'd like to try her hand at fixing, she hesitated. What if she messed up? What if she broke it irreparably? Her hands, so small in comparison to his, floated uncertainly over the gears and mechanisms of the opened clock.
Large hands engulfed tiny ones, guided them to specialized tools. Like a marionette she was limp and malleable in his gentle grip, and he proceeded to do the work through her. She watched mesmerized as they made cogs spin, clicking and ticking and glowing gold in the light that streamed in from the window. Dexné squeaked in delight when a little mechanical bird popped out, singing a tinkling tune. Song done, it sank back into the little double doors from which it came. Dexné looked up at her father to see him smiling down at her. Her tentativeness melted and she smiled warmly in return.
"It's okay now. You're okay…" came a woman's voice from very far away.
Recollections flashed through Dexné's mind. She was an even smaller child, a weary child, when he carried her home. Her chin rested on his shoulder, his slow ambling pace trying to sway her to sleep. But she kept shivering, kept jolting awake. He'd found her sitting in the woods, the sun sinking into purples and blues, the mounting shadows surrounding her like dragons guarding their stolen ward. He approached her slowly, walking right over the sleeping shadow dragons. He picked her up without a word. Her face had been wet.
Her mother was in the garden when they came home, and he went to her, kissed her on the cheek. Mirron took a steadying breath—had she been worried?—and stroked Dexné's hair, tenderly saying, "Hey there, sleepyhead. It's okay now. You're okay…"
The smell of them, like magnolias and wood polish, embraced her. She finally gave in to sleep.
They were always there, her mother and father. He was always working on clocks. She was always in the garden. Always there when Dexné called. It had always been a happy home. …Hadn't it?
In the present, Dexné stared at the sky and wondered if she'd ever get to see that home again…
She returned to the castle, the only home she had known as a Nobody. Its stark walls and colorless appeal seemed emptier than normal.
Dexné shouldered more missions, most requiring her to track and locate Heartless for the keybearers, and when she was done with that she came back to supervise the Dusks in the various tasks they were expected to do.
"What happened?" she barely whispered, too tired to muster anymore. Smoke was curling out of the kitchen oven in thick tendrils. The Dusks wriggled and zig-zagged in panicked abandon.
Dexné helped prepare a different meal. Not a good cook by any means, and never holding a candle to Mirron's skill, Dexné painstakingly read aloud a cookbook's step-by-step instructions. The Dusks, following her guiding words, completed the meal preparations—if only by the skin of their teeth. Had it not been ready and waiting, repercussion would've awaited them. She would not have faced punishment herself, but Dexné didn't like seeing Dusks destroyed.
She didn't like seeing anything destroyed, now that she thought about it. Not the Dusks. Not the two pirates. Not Kopa. No one. She didn't want anyone to die.
Her head hurt suddenly, and her chest felt strangely tight. She went to bed, hoping it would clear up in the morning.
It didn't.
"No… It's not. It's not okay…"
Another restless night bled into another weary day, and more and more missions kept coming.
At the end of the day, she went to Twilight Town. She stood beneath the overpass, not having the energy to shadow her way up to the clock tower. She watched them, the three friends, as a train shook the tracks above her. Axel made a wide gesture with his hands, and Roxas and Xion seemed to be listening with rapt attention. She wondered what they were talking about…
"As long as we keep each other in our thoughts, we'll never be apart."
She stared at the clock tower long after they'd gone. The evening never left this world, and Dexné absently pondered how it could be, if perhaps the planet rotated more slowly, or if Twilight Town was in an area that was always subjugated to the sun no matter the orbit.
The hands on the clock kept turning, ever so slowly, and it was getting later and later. But the sun was still there, still warm. She liked it, but also found herself longing for the cool night that came with the moon. Like a child wanting a pet unicorn, she wanted them both to be in the sky.
"And if…I lose my mind? What then?"
Dexné turned her face away from the clock tower, the one she's never heard chime. Opposite the tower, out in the distance, she saw rolling hills of green grass.
She ended up walking and walking, beyond the town of twilight, out to those golden green hills. It was out there she lied in grass bathed in sun's light, like she did so many years ago in a little meadow behind the school.
Clouds breezed by above, and Dexné's eyelids grew heavy, her breathing slowed. But she did not sleep, not truly. Instead she entered dreams that she knew were not really dreams…
"You're not gonna lose your mind. I won't let you. Got it memorized?"
Red shined. And right beside it, though not as noticeable, so did blue.
It was the first time anyone had invited her over to their house, and she was jittery all over. Her hands shook as she brushed her hair. She put on her favorite raspberry colored shirt, a long flowing cream skirt, went out the door…and then turned around to swap the skirt for knee-length brown shorts. She didn't want to look like she was trying to impress anyone.
Isa's house was located near the center of town and closer to the castle. Though she made sure to look like a young lady with a destination she kept her eyes lowered, childishly counting the clean cut flagstones passing beneath her feet on the way, their colors like pale fruit loops.
All the houses were built around the same style, with terracotta roofs and colorful stone or brick walls. She went up and down the manicured street, looking for the right address. She finally found Isa's residence tucked on a corner lot. Dexné felt out of place the moment she set foot inside. The furnishings were sleek and orderly; no clutter to be seen, not even a speck of dust. Dexné remembered Lea telling her how uptight Isa's parents were and she worried that maybe she should have dressed to impress after all…
When Isa told her his parents were out dealing with appointments, Dexné released her pent up breath, doing so quietly as not to offend him. They waited for Lea to arrive in the living room. Dexné sat straight as a rod on the white sectional sofa while Isa set up the new video game they were going to play.
"Have you ever played before?"
"…Yes, well—no. Not that kind. I only have older systems at my house." Her father had been kind enough to repair the gaming platforms, which he thoughtfully purchased from random yard sales. He brought the first one home not long after catching Dexné rereading Wings of Destiny for the tenth time.
"Hmm, retro."
That was the end of their small talk, and Dexné wished Lea would make haste. It wasn't that she didn't like Isa—she did. But it was awkward. Really, they were only friends because of Lea, who was a balm against her incorrigible social ineptness whereas Isa was like ice and rock and only served to push her deeper within the walls she built around herself. Both of them were just too standoffish, and reacted like the repelling ends of a magnet. They couldn't meet in the middle, not without Lea.
The phone rang. Isa answered.
"Hello?" A pause. "Where are—What?" Isa glanced back at Dexné, who was watching astutely. "Yeah, she's here…"
A few seconds later and Isa hung up. He moved back over to the gaming system, continued setting up as he talked. "That was Lea. He can't make it—something about his mother being menopausal and holding him hostage." He waved a hand as if it didn't matter.
"What?" Dexné gasped out. She winced, mentally reprimanding herself for the outburst. "I mean, oh, okay…"
Lea wasn't coming. There would be no barrier, no bridge between her and Isa. Dexné squirmed in her seat, trying to guess what to do next. Leave or stay? What was the polite way to excuse herself—should she? No that would be rude. But then, what? Her hands grasped each other, turning white in the dilemma.
But then Isa spoke, and the decision was made for her. "I'll take you through part of the single player first, so you can be familiarized with the material. Then we'll do co-op mode."
She relaxed, secretly relived he hadn't kicked her out. "Okay."
The game booted up, and the titleflitted across the flat screen of the TV. The focal point of the game was portals and puzzles, chiefly solving the latter with the former. Dexné was unaccustomed to it; in the few video games she had played problems were usually solved with swords and arrows and explosions. But as Isa's game progressed, she had yet to get any weapons. Her confusion was mounting to more than a molehill.
"I—what am I supposed to… Wait…"
"No, shoot the blue portal there and the orange portal up on that wall."
"What? How does that—?"
"Can you not fathom the concept of portals?"
"Well, I—yes. But it's disorienting."
"Disorienting? How is it disorienting?" he asked incredulously.
"Look—I'm coming out of the ceiling after falling through the floor! Of the same room! The same room, Isa!"
"Falling through the portal," he corrected haughtily.
Her brow pinched and her lips pursed. "Whatever. Where's my shotgun? Any swords? Let me rephrase: any real weapons?" In her frustration she forgot to be exceedingly polite.
"You don't get a shotgun, you get a portal gun."
"But, but that's not—!"
"No buts. And it is a real weapon. Anything can become a weapon if harnessed correctly. Now solve the puzzles."
She did as told, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grumbling at his impromptu lecture. Remembering it, though, she saw that he was right; the chains of Nulla proved it.
As the evening wore on something extraordinary happened. Dexné didn't notice it at first, but slowly, surely, the walls between her and Isa crumbled, reduced from stone to cake crumbs. Her frustration cracked her shell, and Isa's snarky quips, usually repelled by Lea, were batted by her instead.
"Oh wow, you actually did it," Isa said in mock admiration after Dexné completed another level. "Good job. I think I have some dog treats around here somewhere."
"I'm only as good as the person who taught me," she replied sweetly, "so be sure to grab some for yourself."
He smirked and mirthfully shoved her, she smiled and shoved back. When she first met him she wouldn't have been able to recognize his dry, if not slightly insulting, humor. She would have taken it as venomous anger. It was with insistent guidance and exposure that she was lured from the walls, and it was in thanks not only to Lea, but to Isa as well, she realized.
"This level's difficult, here." He made to take the controller but Dexné pulled it out of his reach.
"No, no! I can do it. How long did it take you?"
He crossed his arms, raising one skeptical eyebrow. "Seventeen minutes."
"…I can do it." Her small voice spoke her doubt, yet her fingers clamped around the controller stubbornly.
"You think you can beat me? That's laughable."
Dexné chewed her lip, fingers and thumbs twitching over the controls, determined to prove herself to Isa. Not for gloating rights, not to make him feel incompetent, but simply to attain… She wasn't sure. Recognition? Approval? Yes, that last one. A small nod of approval would put her up in the clouds.
After twenty minutes and no progress, she began to squirm. Isa sighed.
"No," she started before he could speak. "I can do it. I just need to…" A couple flicks of her thumb had her character looking from one end of the laser-infested room to the other. She hadn't a clue what to do next. She couldn't activate all the laser switches, which meant she couldn't open the door to complete the level. She slumped, utterly stumped and defeated, and waited in dread for Isa's disappointment.
The corners of Isa's mouth quirked up. "Need a hint?" he asked good-naturedly.
"…If you please," was her tiny reply.
"Momentum," was all he said.
"Oh." Dexné perked, realization occurring. "Oh, I need to use momentum from the fall to rise up out of the other portal and…"
"Exactly."
After single player came co-op mode. Just as the name implied it required two individuals to work together, each with their own portal gun, to solve the tests.
"Which robot am I?" she asked.
"The tall orange one. I'm the blue one."
She nodded, smiling because she was working with him and not against him. Unfortunately for Isa, Dexné wasn't a very savvy partner. One wrongly flipped switch, one stray portal blast, another misdirected laser and she managed to accidently explode his robot over and over again. At first she was horrified, wincing every time she messed things up, until her horror bled into comical giggles. Those giggles weren't due to her errors, but to Isa's reactions. Mouth hanging agape, staring at the screen appalled like he couldn't believe what just happened, like it was a bizarre injustice. His face would be frozen like that for a good five seconds or so. She found it so funny.
"Orange just taught Blue a very important lesson in trust," droned a strangely sultry robotic voice when Dexné unwittingly brought a platform down on Isa's robot. His disbelieving shock morphed into a sputtering fit and Dexné couldn't contain the maniacal cackles jumping from her throat.
"I'm not doing it on purpose," she gasped through breathless laughter when he accused her, "I swear I'm not! I'm so sorry!"
"Okay." He sighed. "Let's try this again."
She didn't mess up the second time through.
She'd never seen him lose his composure before. Witnessing those rare bouts of frustration and boyish indignation had been priceless. But that wasn't total loss of composure, not for Isa. It hadn't been real anger, only teasing exasperation.
Dexné remembered the first time she saw Isa lose it completely.
Isa's wrath was not something to be taken lightly. Mercifully, it wasn't directed at her. If it were she wouldn't have survived, emotionally or physically.
It occurred in the hallway at school, a few days after she and Isa parted amicably from their game night. They were looking for Lea. He hadn't met them at the usual exit.
Isa strode with purpose. He didn't like being late, didn't like falling behind schedules, so he was noticeably irate. At least to Dexné he was. But she had always been keen to body language. She subtly eyed the tight set of his jaw, the stiffness of his shoulders, the way he almost stomped while walking.
They found Lea pressed against the lockers. A brown-haired boy in a well-worn green striped hoodie was pinning Lea there, fists twisted into the collar of his shirt. Two other boys flanked Green Stripe's side. But Lea didn't look cowed in the least. A sardonic smile cut across his face like a blade and his eyes held the glinting sparks of a fuse just lit.
Dexné heard the hiss of angry voices shushed in secrecy. Then Green Stripe hit Lea—punched him hard in his jaw, and Lea's head whipped to the side. Dexné's heart and stomach switched places in that moment. Then Lea slowly brought his head back around, reengaging his burning stare, the cutting smile still in place. That riled Green Stripe even more, and he hit Lea again. And again. Again, again, again—
A furious roar exploded from beside Dexné, and she looked to behold Isa, his hair like raised hackles, his eyes flashing dangerously. He charged down the hall like a raging bull and, vaguely, Dexné registered she was charging with him, their feet pounding together on tiled floor, resounding like a stampede.
Isa slammed into Green Stripe, taking them both to the floor. The second Lea was free he tackled the other boy on his right. Dexné slid to a stop, her blood beating drums in her ears. What was she to do? She didn't know what to do! Her zipping eyes honed in on the third boy coming up behind Lea, who was preoccupied with the opponent in front of him—a chunky boy whose sloppy swings he easily dodged.
Dexné didn't know how to fight—but she couldn't just stand there and let Lea get hit in the back of the head. Rational thought scrambled as Dexné leapt onto the boy's back. She locked her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.
...
A/N: The game scene was inspired by the "Two Best Friends Play" series over on Youtube. They're funny, I recommend watching. Portal 2 seems like a game Isa would play...
Please let me know what you think.
Thanks for reading.