A/N: Thanks to starlit-pancake and NaomiKindle, I've expanded on my ideas for this story. Please let me know what you think after you're done reading.

...

::II::

present's beginning

The memory of the red, bright light—of Lea—was not where her present life began. She couldn't say when she remembered, when she had "seen" the shards that led to him, only that they had always been there, waiting for her to piece them back together.

No, her present life began when...

Floating. The first thing she remembered was floating. There was no light; there was no sound—nothing. Just the blanket of dark and the silence of sleep. She couldn't say when awareness first started creeping its way into the dream of nothingness. All she could recall was light, the color of red, small and flickering in the distance. It bothered her. Though it was wavering and dim, it still reached her. It lifted her to that drowsy state of being half awake and half asleep. She wanted to return to sleep, wanted to draw the comforter of darkness over her head and blot out everything else. But it would not go away. When she tried to turn away from it, there it still was. Perhaps it was not really there; maybe it was in her head. All that could be done was ignore it. She closed her eyes and continued drifting.

ℝ𝕖𝕕

It would not be ignored.

Red. It came and went, blinking in and out of existence. As soon as she'd forget, it'd be shining through again. It refused to leave forever. And in the beginning it was all she had. There was nothing else, there was no one else. She had no thought, nor reason, nor goal, nor dreams. She simply drifted, endlessly, through nothingness. And that likely would not have changed, had it not been for the one in the black hood.

She did not know who he was, or where he came from. But he was there, and the only thing that echoed in her subconscious was that someone had come for her. He located her, fished her out from the inky vastness. He carried her like she was a child; her head resting on his shoulder. She remembered looking up into his face and in her mind's eye she could still see the golden amber irises that almost seemed to glow from under the black hood. He led her away from the dark, took her to a world in between that was not supposed to be. It was there he provided her with new clothes, a home, and a name.

The clothes were similar to his; the main component being a long black hooded coat. The home was a large, empty castle of white and gray. And the name he gave her was not her true name—but nonetheless it was a name and it belonged solely to her.

She was called Dexné.

From then on Dexné wandered the halls of the cold castle, following the leadings of Xemnas—the one who had come for her, who found her. He was the one who pointed which direction she should go and what she was to do there. He was the one who gave her a purpose, a meaning amid the bleakness. He was Number I, The Superior of the In-Between, and she followed wherever he directed, did as he ordered without thought.

She could not tell how long she'd been a part of the beings that wore the black hoods, not that anyone had ever asked. She only knew that she watched the Organization grow from a few to a dozen. She had been there before many of the others. Yet she held no place in the Round Room with its many thrones; not a single seat was meant for her. Perhaps it was because she was never assigned a number, as the others had been. The members were assigned ranks from Number I through Number XII.

Dexné was none of these. She was simply referred to as the Organization's Nulla.

Nulla. It was a term that meant none, nothing. That was what she was—her rank, her position, so she was told. Dexné or Nulla, both could be used to refer to her.

Dexné, Nulla of Organization XIII, was a shadow and she obeyed and carried out her orders without being seen or heard.

She was mostly used for reconnaissance, for infiltration, for spying. It was not difficult for her to stay unnoticed. It was her nature—something that never changed; heart or not. She always kept her hood up, always kept the darkness close. It wasn't like she had much of a choice, anyway. For even when she tried, even when she took the tiniest step towards the light…the shadows always seemed to follow.

Which was why she could not understand how Lea saw her in the past.

He had seen her. No one saw her. She was looked through, unseen, unheard.

In the present it was different.

He passed her in the halls every now and then, on the way to and from missions. His hair was still red as lifeblood, eyes still the color of an emerald sea. She knew him, yet she didn't. She remembered his name, or what used to be his name (though for the life of her she could not remember her own).

He was called Axel now.

Every time she caught a glimpse of him the slogged gears in her mind would begin working. She recognized him. But he did not look her way; he did not see her now. No, not anymore. And that was normal, for she was usually overlooked, just like the shadows of the furniture were paid no mind.

But back then…he did.

The red bled through the darkness that coated her mind, and more shards of memory were found and pulled together.

She was walking to school, as she always did, alone. The name of the world in which she lived escaped her knowledge. It was a bright place; usually warm and sunny with a perfect breeze. It had beautiful cobblestone and flagstone streets landscaped with trees, hedges, and flowers. And fountains. Many fountains. She stayed to the edge of the path, walking in the shade of the trees, the shadow fragmented by the sunlight that poured through cracks between leaves and branches.

She took the back way on a quiet street with the sweet song of birds and insects in place of the babbles of people. She got to school not too early and not too late. The Homeroom Bell would decide the start of the school day and since it was erratic the students were forced to arrive about twenty minutes prior to the official start time or else be flagged tardy—which came with a grievously boring lecture. Therefore there were teenagers congregated in the cafeteria and the halls, chatting with friends, clustered in various groups. She weaved by them to a less crowded hallway—an older part of the school with rough bare brick walls. She sat on the cold floor, her knees drawn up, and leaned back on the gritty surface. She remembered it was the spot she always sat, not too close or far from the groups; always the inconspicuous in-between.

She would sit with her head bowed, neither looking nor speaking. She would not smile or frown at anyone or anything. She simply waited—for the bell, to start her assignments, to go home, and then to restart the whole process the next day. The routine was never trifled with—excluding her trip to the office the other day—and she expected everything to return to normal.

Red flashed in her peripheral.

She peered from beneath her fringe, trailing the color discreetly with her black eyes. He was the same, as if yesterday never happened, as if an entire class did not try to tear him apart. He walked and talked with others the same: so easily. He was not confined to any group.

A few students from that class were in the hallway. They looked away—whether in shame or indifference she couldn't tell. He was approached by one of them; a girl. She fidgeted awkwardly and it seemed she was trying to apologize. Lea's smile was tight and he shrugged indifferently. Unable to hear, Dexné—though she was not called such then—watched as the girl nodded before scurrying off and Lea moved on like nothing happened.

At least the girl had the courage to say sorry—something Dexné would not be brave enough to try. She wondered if she should, if it was expected. She probably embarrassed him. She certainly embarrassed herself.

She became…uneasy, then. She could not recall what she was…feeling. Dexné remembered being uncomfortable, like she was being constricted and the air was low on oxygen.

Should she apologize? Had anyone else apologized? Her question was answered.

"Sorry about yesterday, man," a boy from that class called out.

Lea glanced at him uninterested. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he said nonchalantly, and passed by the boy without a backwards glance.

Dexné guessed he wasn't going to be buddies with any of them anytime soon.

Quickly she adverted her eyes to the floor, head bowed. She focused on his red and white shoes—black socks—until he'd gone by.

She exhaled slowly. What could she do? She was trapped within herself, chained to the shadows—even then. She had already spoken yesterday and that drained her; all she did in the principal's office was slump and bear the berating. Though the thought of reporting that awful teacher did cross her mind…

"Hey, there you are!" Green eyes suddenly bore into her, red hair commanded her attention.

Dexné's head snapped back to the wall and she gasped, nearly crying out.

"Easy! I didn't mean to scare you." Lea was crouched in front of her. When did he get there? He just popped up from nowhere. "Your name's - - - -, right?"

Dexné blinked in the present time, as if clearing her eyes would clear her mind. She repeated the memory's phrase.

"Your name's - - - -, right?"

There was a blank, a block missing from her memory's pieces. No matter how many times she repeated it, replayed it, the blank would not fill in.

But she did remember responding with a jerky nod. She was surprised by both his presence and the fact he actually knew her name.

His bright smile greeted her—closer than she'd ever seen it. "I'm Lea. Got it memorized?"

Oh, yes, she did. The fact that she could remember it even as she walked the Halls that Never Were spoke volumes. The fact that she remembered it over her own name spoke louder.

She went back to the memory.

"What're you doing all by yourself?" he asked.

Her mind was slow to process, so she merely pulled one shoulder up in a disoriented half-shrug.

Lea tilted his head and squinted his eyes. "You don't know? Where are your friends?"

She shook her head, glancing away.

His tone went serious, smile falling. "I know you can talk. Speak up, what're you saying?"

She swallowed. Had she angered him? She hadn't meant to. She did as he said and spoke verbally. "None. No friends."

He regarded her for a moment, frowning now. "Seriously?"

She nodded. He really was angry, then. Her hands balled up in her long skirt. Where had all the oxygen in the air gone? Breathe normally, she told herself, forced her body to comply. Don't start gasping like some weirdo.

Neither said anything.

Then that radiant smile lit his face up once more. Brightly he said, "You should hang out with us."

The sentiment echoed and she wasn't sure she heard right. She stared.

His smile turned wry. "Whoa, chatterbox, slow down. I know you're excited, but c'mon."

Her brain stopped, gears clogging with confusion.

"C'mon," he said, smiling normally again, "I'll introduce you to—" The bell filled the school with its shrill sound and Lea glared upwards like he could see the noise and kill it with his eyes. "O-kay, new plan. I'll walk you to homeroom."

She could not form any words of protest. All she could do was go along with him, as he had grabbed her wrist and tugged her in tow. Dragging her feet would cause a scene, an embarrassing scene, so she walked willingly.

At least some of the oxygen had come back into the air.

The homerooms, she recalled, were organized alphabetically by first names. Students with names beginning in A-D were in Homeroom 1, E-H Homeroom 2, and so on. Lea was in Homeroom 3. Dexné remembered because they walked past it and she couldn't figure out why he'd waste time accompanying her. He would have to double back as her homeroom was much further down.

Present-time Dexné wondered: What letter had her original name begun with?

They had stopped outside of her homeroom and she was unsure what to do. Should she thank him? Was it expected? Decorum was lost on her.

She looked to him for the answer, but he only smiled and said, "I'll catch ya later," before heading back to his homeroom. "Oh, and don't go telling anyone you don't have any friends." He grinned at her from over his shoulder. "'Cause we're friends now. Get it memorized."

She stood, staring as he walked off, completely bewildered.

What just happened? Is that really all it took to make someone a friend—declare them so?

Presently Dexné swam in her thoughts, fishing for an explanation, or another memory that would tell her more.

Unfortunately, once again, the pieces stopped coming back together. She searched but there was only dark nothingness—no more shards of broken memory shined through. What barely sparkled before was pulled away and engulfed.

She numbly stood surrounded by Dusks, she the only black amongst the white, listening to faint whispers wisp around her. Whispers of newly discovered worlds filled her ears, all beckoning her call.

The Superior's orders reigned over reminiscence.

Dexné disappeared through a tunnel between worlds made from darkness itself that she, and others like her, could create at will. A Dark Corridor.

She had work to do.

She weaved amongst the towering trees, hiding with their long shadows.

The new world: virgin forests dominated and provided Dexné with excellent cover as she observed the people that inhabited a clearing near a healthy, pristine river.

The people appeared primitive; no technology in sight. Animal skin clothing, dark hair, copper skin, crude weapons: Dexné noted these details and filed them away for when she wrote the mission report.

Though first glance would say otherwise, the people were not as primitive as they seemed. They had a tribal community, communicated in a complex language, built sturdy homes, and even had fields of crops. She also caught glimpse of what looked like canoes, fashioned from large logs, being paddled down the river. Man, woman, and child all had roles to fill, jobs to do to keep their society going. Dexné watched as a group of young men went into the forest with spears, bows, and arrows—a hunting party she presumed—while women tended the crops. A little boy helped his mother by chasing off a crow from a row of planted beans.

Dexné's eyes lingered on the weapons as the hunting party came close to her. The weapons were of carved wood and stone. Nothing special, nothing to be concerned about. Yet not something she'd want to trifle with either. Avoidance was her best bet when it came to combat.

The men were stealthy in their walk, grazing over earth quietly in their soft moccasins. But even so the grass crunched softly and the leaves from low hanging branches whispered steadily as the men passed like a gentle breeze.

Dexné was better, for she was not even air to her surroundings. She pressed closer to a pine's prickly embrace, melding into its shadow as one of the men went directly by her. She did not move until they were gone.

There were no signs of Heartless. These people lived in relative peace. For now.

The Dark Corridor welcomed her with open arms and brought her home. She went straight to her room—on the other side of the castle, far away from the other's quarters—and wrote her report. It was detailed when it needed to be but for the most part it was short, clipped, to the point. Just as all her previous reports were. When it was finished and cleared of mistakes she took it directly to Saïx, Number VII, The Luna Diviner.

It was only recently that the Superior approved Dexné to correspond with Saïx; to accept missions from him and to deliver the results to him. Normally it was solely Xemnas that commanded her. It was strange to hand the report to Saïx.

There was something tickling her mind as he took the papers from her, but she could not place it. Her gaze glued to the X-shaped scar that crossed his face. It was good her hood concealed this, or else he'd catch her staring.

"Good work," was all he said, and she took his further silence as a dismissal.

She returned to her room, for the day was done.

His blue hair was distracting, she realized. Perhaps that was what bothered her. Or maybe she was used to Xemnas as her sole commander and the shift in responsibilities confused her. Whatever it was, she ignored it. The change in routine would become normal to her—in time.

But things settling into normalcy—like a fine dust that settled not long after a cleaning—would take longer than she anticipated.

For the next day, a new member walked the halls.

His hair was like golden fire, and his eyes reminded Dexné of a deep ocean on a calm day—the surface eerily still and glassy, hiding something. Yet there was nothing to be seen.

Dexné was not introduced to him as the others were—in the white Round Room—but saw him in passing; introduced only by overheard words. They called him Roxas, Number XIII, the Key of Destiny. He did not speak, not even when spoken to. He just stared blankly.

Number XIII was as blank as his stare and Dexné wondered if he, too, could not recall his former name. It was Axel who guided him. He was patient with the boy, often repeating things for him and spelling out names. As Dexné witnessed this she couldn't help but think…would he do the same for her…if she asked?

The thought was struck and turned to ash, like an insect consumed by lightning's fire. Of course not. How foolish. What was to say they were really friends? An unreliable memory?

Dexné drew her hood up tighter, making sure it stayed in place.

She listened from the shadows as Axel calmly and repeatedly tried to explain to Roxas aspects of the castle, the concept of missions, and all the names he was expected to know.

"How about my name? You remember?"

"Ax… Ax… Ax—"

"—el. It's Ax-el."

"Ax…el."

"Good. Now how about our boss's name?"

Patient, calm. Was that how he was or was he just being…nothing? A Nobody, the likes of which could not feel. The other members acted, behaving based on memories of who they used to be. Was he the same? He did not seem blank, not like Roxas, but she wondered if he was the same as back then…

"Nulla." She immediately yanked herself from eavesdropping and shadows and came to attention in front of Saïx. "Another recon mission."

She was given her orders and then was on her way. Dexné did as she was told.

In-between missions she would see them—red and gold.

Little by little Roxas's eyes became less dull and more aware. He started becoming interested in his surroundings. He was finding his own way around. He was looking at every face and studying it like he was seeing another being for the first time. Some of the members didn't like it, didn't like the way he stared.

He saw every face, except Dexné's. He did not see her at all.

She was never introduced, and she was never close to him when out in the open. Maybe he caught a glimpse of her cloaked figure—made shapeless by the loose fit—in the Grey Area, which was where they received missions. If he did, he was not focused. She never caught his stare lingering.

It did, however, linger on Number XIV.

It was strange to have new members popping up, but Dexné supposed it was like that for all of them, at least for the ones that joined early on.

They were both quiet, Numbers XIII and XIV. They seemed similar in more ways than one, but Dexné could not place how or what. But never did it cross her that they were as quiet as she. She was distant—she had no kindred spirits.

It was a day after a week before Number XIII was given his first mission. Dexné imagined it would be that long until XIV was put to work. Dexné tried to remember how it was for herself. Those first days were fuzzy—all she did was follow the Superior like a lost dog.

She was there when they embarked on Roxas's first mission. She stood far back, in the dark hall before the Grey Area, waiting until she could approach for her mission—if there was one.

"Teach him well, Axel," Saïx said tonelessly.

"Don't worry. I'll be sure he makes the grade. C'mon, Roxas… What's wrong?"

XIII did not respond; he was transfixed on XIV.

"You worried about the new kid?" Axel assumed, and something about that line snagged on Dexné's attention. "What was that name again?"

"Number XIV, Xion," Saïx supplied.

"Right. I knew that."

Worried…

A Nobody could not worry. They could not feel emotion. Why would he say that? He spoke like a person, which meant he must remember his life before. But, of course, most did. Witnessing the other members acting out emotions told her that. It never fazed her before, she didn't care, but now…she wondered what else Axel remembered.

"Xion," Roxas repeated dazedly.

"Got it memorized, Roxas?"

"…Yeah."

"Yeah? Well, how 'bout my name then?"

Dexné listened as Axel quizzed Roxas once more. This time the boy made no mistakes.

"It's Axel."

"And our boss's name?"

"Xemnas."

"No way you're gonna forget his name, right? C'mon, let's go."

Dexné could not see their faces well from where she stood, but for a moment she thought she saw Axel's mouth tilt up slightly. She blinked, holding her eyes shut, like that would capture the image, and trap it behind her eyelids so she could study it. A…smile? She tried to recall if that was how he used to smile, or if she'd seen him smile at all since becoming a Nobody, but her mind went fuzzy and she couldn't obtain anything.

When she opened her eyes they were gone, the Dark Corridor shutting behind them.

She pushed inquiries and confusion aside before stepping out of the dark hall. Her steps were silent. She did not wear the standard boots, but flexible black shoes similar to the moccasins those tribal people wore. Whereas the other members and their boots gave a soft tap-tap announcing their approach, Dexné's footfalls were completely muffled. Larxene's click-clacking heeled boots were worse, but then stealth was never Number XII's fancy—the Savage Nymph preferred to be quick and loud like the lightning she wielded.

Dexné stopped in front of Saïx and waited without a word. He knew what she was there for. No need for pointless chatter.

"Nulla," he addressed her, "I have nothing else lined up for you today. You are not needed. Go."

She bowed lightly. "As you say." Her voice was a whisper, a rasp of stagnant air reluctant to move with the breeze. It was not often she used it.

She headed back to her room. On the long walk through the halls she couldn't stop the pins of curiosity that stuck in her brain. How was Number XIII doing on his first mission? She paused, then opened a Corridor of Darkness. She passed through and emerged in a town paralyzed in dusk's gentle light. Twilight Town.

She had no intention to interfere with their mission. She merely walked about the sleepy streets, keeping a look out for any potential dangers. She needn't do so, as Axel was capable, and she didn't know why, but it eased the annoying sensation of the sticking pins.

The soft glow of twilight melted into the shadows which she clung. There were very little people out. A woman carrying a basket went into a shop; three teenagers chased each other, running past Dexné without giving her so much as a glance. The warm brick roads glided under her feet. She was pulled into the sleepy haze of the town and she walked without purpose. She forgot what she was doing there.

She stopped under a tall white bridge-like structure, and upon hearing the train coast overhead remembered the railway. She scouted the world long ago—one of her first missions—and distinctly recalled noting the town's main system of transportation in the report. She leaned against the solid concrete support wall, resting in its shade. Her eyes scanned the grounds, then the skyline of the town, and came to rest on the tallest structure. The massive clock tower stretched to the sky, its face washed in the warm light of the setting sun, with those two strange giant bells propped on the sides like a bird's wings. Dexné had never heard them ring.

Her eyes focused, suddenly, on two black clad figures sitting far up on the tower's ledges. Red and gold blended in with the surrounding light and from the distance could barely be seen. The sight struck her. She watched them for a long time.

Something just seemed…so…familiar.

She needed to know what it was.

After they left she found her way up there. She stepped out onto the empty balcony that was positioned above the clock face. Behind her were glassless gothic windows that opened up the dark inside to the sun. In front of her was a thick concrete barrier—the ledge they were sitting on. Why hadn't she noticed this spot before? Back when she first mapped the town she made sure to include everything important. But then again, how important was it? A balcony that led to nowhere. She supposed she just overlooked it, focused instead on the tower itself and the train station it also served as.

She could see over the entire town from up there, all the way out to the golden-green hills beyond. All the houses looked small and even the tall white railway, which had loomed far above her and the houses whilst she was under it, was dwarfed.

Dexné could not shake the familiarity or her ponderings, though she'd like to. But she knew this wasn't her home world, for the rusty reds and yellows that dominated it were not familiar at all. But something about the view, with everything looking so small and far away, was. She wanted to place it, but could not. She walked to the edge, placed her hand on it, then leaned over to look straight down.

The moment her sight hit the distant ground her head began to spin like a carousel on a restless, stormy sea.

She was leaning over the edge, being pulled down; her hands were clamped around someone's wrist, her nails sinking into their flesh.

They were falling.

She was falling.

Dexné flung herself backwards with such force she slammed her back to the floor. She stared wide eyed at the golden bathed clouds that lazily drifted above.

What was that? Was that…something that had happened?

Cautiously she stood, slowly, warily, waiting to see if it would happen again…

Nothing did, and so she returned to the castle.

Days passed without another…vision, though Dexné waited for one. She did not remember anything further either, and things fell back into stagnant routine.

Roxas accompanied each member of the Organization on various missions, as he was not yet ready to go it alone. All excluding the Superior, Saïx, Dexné, and Xion—the last was not yet ready for missions. The Superior was lord of the castle, and as far as Dexné knew he rarely left it. Saïx was in charge of everyday operations, distributing the Superior's orders. As for Dexné herself, all her missions were executed solitarily, even her first few. Ordinarily new recruits were led through by a more experienced member for at least their first two missions.

Not so for Dexné. She was always sent out alone.

Because it was too dangerous. Because of what she was.

Nobodies in general were not rare. Many people lost their spiritual hearts to darkness, left with only body and soul. But the majority were left with bodies' malformed and nothing like what they once were—like the Dusks, the pale, vaguely humanoid things that they were. The rare few, like those of the Organization, were able to retain their full human forms. They could not be risked to stay near Dexné.

Confused and unsure, she got lost and forgot her orders on her first assignment. Time passed and eventually another member—Xigbar, Number II—was deployed to retrieve her.

It had happened more than once, but soon she was able to retain and understand her objectives. She worked more closely with Dusks—part of the malformed ones that could be risked—than with the others. She did not bother to contemplate why she was constantly solo. She knew. She preferred it, actually. With a partner she would not know what to do, or how to act.

Since Roxas started his job of taking out Heartless, Dexné's missions mostly consisted of scouting prior to Number XIII's mission. She would locate the areas the Emblem Heartless congregated and report the information to Saïx, who would then pass it on to Roxas and whichever member he was sent with that day. They did this so The Key of Destiny would spend more time collecting hearts and less time idly searching for them. Shadow Heartless were simply gotten rid of; they did not release the spirits of hearts like their Emblem cousins did. Or so Dexné was told (and she did as told). She honestly did not fully understand it.

But there was another mission Dexné received, one she found rather odd.

It was handed down by Xemnas himself, and that mission required Dexné to monitor the other members of the Organization. She'd never been given such orders before.

But she did not question the Superior. She simply responded, "As you say, it will be done," and bowed deeply before leaving his presence.

So she followed and observed, keeping out of sight. She paid particular attention to how they interacted with Number XIII, as she was commanded.

Marluxia seemed intently interested in the keyblade and Dexné even caught him murmuring about it to himself. He also appeared to be on good terms with Larxene, who was normally very prickly to others, yet almost passive with him.

Zexion was prudent but clipped with his lectures—his answers to Roxas's questions. She found nothing off about him.

Larxene on the other hand…

"What do you mean I have to teach the brat magic?! Are you serious?!"

Saïx stared at her levelly. "This is your mission. You will fulfill it."

"Ugh, why me? Why not Demyx—he hardly does anything!"

"I will not repeat myself. Cease your childish insolence. Or perhaps you would prefer to teach Nulla magic?"

The threat was heard. Larxene turned up her nose and looked away, crossing her arms angrily. But she argued no more.

It was then that Dexné realized that the others avoided her just as she avoided them. She need not ponder why—she knew the reason. She wondered if any of them could feel the pull when close enough. But when did they ever get close to the likes of her?

To say that Number XII was rude to Roxas would be an understatement. She clearly did not care about him or the Organization's goals. This was noted in Dexné's report.

Vexen was belittling in his speech and arrogant in regards to his own intelligence. Nothing new there. He taught Roxas basic reconnaissance and informed him of the existence of other worlds. Every member needed to know how to perform some recon. Dexné was more knowledgeable in the subject, despite what Number IV's ego might say, and was more experienced. It was basically all she did. But, even if the unspoken solo rule were disregarded, a teacher she was not.

She followed and was not seen. She moved with shadows, in them. She watched, her mind recording all for her later report.

Lexaeus was a gruff instructor and got right to the point. She saw nothing suspicious about him.

By far Axel was the friendliest towards Roxas, offering good advice and looking out for him. He even took Roxas back to the clock tower, sharing ice cream. He told Roxas they were friends. Again Dexné was left to wonder. He declared them friends…and now they were? She didn't get it. His description of friends did not resonate with her either.

"Friends eat ice cream together, and talk and laugh about the stupidest things."

The explanation meant nothing, she remembered nothing.

She had no friends, nor did she ever.

Dexné continued to observe the other members of the Organization. She simply reported what she saw—directly to Xemnas for that particular mission. She was told to bypass Saïx, inform no one but the Superior.

In fact, Number VII was also under her watch.

She didn't know what she was looking for exactly. Knowing might make it easier, but she did not ask. It was up to the Superior to tell or not and not for her to question.

Time went by and one day Dexné found fewer members present at the castle.

She wandered the halls, but found no sign of them. It was too early to be gone on missions. Where were they? Nearly half their numbers were gone.

It was not long after the discovery that Saïx called her for another mission. The Dusks found her, and their whispers brought her to Number VII.

"Nulla," he said to her as the Dusks swished away, "these orders come from Lord Xemnas himself: You are to follow Axel to Castle Oblivion…and help him root out the traitors."

A/N: I've come back and edited to make things a little more clear and concise, especially regarding timing.

Thank you for reading.