A/N: Thank you very much mysteryreader6626, VidiaPhoenix, Scarlett Virgo, Guest, Wounded Wing, and Anony for your reviews! They really kept me going. Here's a virtual flower.

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Can you see it? You might have to use your imagination. ^_^'

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::IX::

no rest

I'll do all the dirty work. You go all the way to the top.

How was Dexné to take those words, now that the context involved her?

She was the Superior's tool, the Superior's secret weapon, and never had she any qualms about being used as such. Dexné accepted her role with gratitude, pleased to be of value. Yet the mere thought of Lea using her made her a mule—the desire to kick and scream in protest wouldn't ease.

Axel was going to manipulate her, like he pulled the strings on that replica at Castle Oblivion.

And if Dexné failed to respond positively his next step would be finding a way to get rid of her—permanently.

And it was wrong. It was all wrong. She wasn't his tool or his menace, she was…

She was his friend.

She mulled over the idea of striding out without her hood up more than once. And more than once a sense of dread struck her, like a brick to the stomach. She couldn't fathom how, but she knew in her gut something horrible had torn them apart, that she personally had done something to warrant the claws of dread that sunk into her flesh every time she thought of revealing herself.

And without a concrete memory to evaluate, she'd never understand why.

Dexné needed to find out what happened, or else she would be stuck waiting like a cow in line for the slaughter house. Unless she complied, but then how was she to serve two masters? Turning on Xemnas was unthinkable.

She needed to understand. She needed to find that memory.

On the outside nothing was amiss. If any of the members looked at her they would see the same old Nulla. The passionless servant who served remotely. The obedient dog, tame, yet dangerous still. None would guess the internal state of confusion and turmoil. Dexné never let on, and did her missions as if the majority of her attention wasn't focused on rooting up solutions buried in recollections lost. She called out for it, desperation showing only in the speed in which she moved through her assignments.

In the end she despaired.

No matter how far Dexné dug, the memory would not come.

Very clearly in her mind's eye she saw the spinning blades, the tips spitting with fire, the metal gleaming vengefully in the hot light. Arcing through the air, slicing and tearing and searing. Dangerous weapons that required a master's hand to wield—and a master's hand they had. Axel spun, tossed, and caught his chakrams as if it were child's play, as if one slip up wouldn't impale him. Fascination captured Dexné's gaze, intimidation kept her away.

And now more than ever did those circular spiked blades stir trepidation within her.

Now there was a chance those blades would turn against her. She would have to dodge not one, but two, and look out for Axel, and the fire…

Dexné feared the confrontation would force her to fall back on the Black Void. Overwhelmed in the face of danger, would she be allowed a choice? When death stalked on the fringes and fire ate at her the instincts imbued would rip the black hole open. And in would go the fire. And in would go the chakrams.

And in would go…Lea.

No matter what he called himself, Dexné saw the same soul, the same person who poured sunlight into the shadows of her life.

What went into black holes never came out.

Dexné could never, never let him fall in…or she would never see him again. The last anyone would see: a stripe of red, hanging in the air, fading, and then…nothing.

A violent tremor raked Dexné's entire body, and she was glad to be where no one could see.

Axel and Saïx's test of her would come, and when it did she must walk the line between them and Xemnas, must appear faithful to all sides, and mustn't do anything to elicit her extermination.

Or else she would be facing those chakrams, that fire, Lea himself…and if he pushed her to the edge her survival instincts may very well negate her conscious will.

And the bLaCk HoLe will devour the SuN…

She pictured those blades too clearly, spiraling towards her. Dexné gripped her head, a shadow hunched over in the dark, silently pleading the image go away.

Red shined through the black clouds in her head, the light of it dissolving the chakrams into something else, something far less threatening.

Lea used to tote a different weapon.

When Dexné first saw them, however, she didn't think much of them…

They were standing down in the Central Square, flowers and fountains surrounding them on all sides. Lea was showing off his new "weapons," though Dexné could hardly see how frisbees could be classified as such—even if they did have some spikes on their perimeters, and menacing flames painted on the front.

"Awesome, right?" Lea beamed, twirling one of the discs on his finger.

Isa put a hand on his hip, scoffing. "Are you going to fight with them or do a circus act?"

Lea stopped the twirling. "You're just jealous my dexterity is better than yours."

"…I'm surprised you know what that word means." Isa spoke as if he were insulting, yet there was a mischievous, if not playful, gleam in his eyes.

"I'm sure - - - - thinks they're great."

Then Lea's attention was on Dexné and she, wide-eyed, froze in his expecting stare. "…Um, yes. Yes, great."

He grinned. "See?"

"Sure." Isa fixed her with a hard gaze. "Now tell us what you really think."

Dexné felt her heart palpitate. She wished to say nothing and let them think what they like.

"Well?" prompted Isa. He wasn't having it.

Stomach dropping, she carefully thought over her answer, all the while trying to be quick. "Well, I—I do not see how they could be…weapons." She shrunk in on herself, feeling traitorous.

Lea's exuberance did not take it as badly as Dexné. To her relief he still smiled. "You kidding? These things are deadly!"

Isa nearly rolled his eyes.

Dexné's confusion, like a deer poking its head out of the brush, tentatively pushed past her reserve and prompted investigation. "Really? I would think… I mean, what damage could you inflict? The most those could do is break someone's nose…" She trailed off, voice ending small.

"Ah, I'll show you both. I just need someone's butt to kick." He started the twirling again.

"Good luck," Isa said dryly.

"Hey, c'mon, have at least a little faith in—"

When the black disc slipped from his finger and collided with Dexné's nose with a firm clunk, she learned it was much harder than it looked. She stood dazed, nose throbbing, thoughts racing. Had he done that on purpose? Had she deserved it? Was he angry? He taught her a lesson all right—if that's what he meant to do. She wouldn't say a thing against those frisbees again.

But once her mind ceased its rapid-firing she clearly saw the action was accidental.

Isa stood stock-still, eyes wide.

Lea was the same, except his mouth hung open, and his arm was outstretched like he had tried to catch the wayward disc.

Both were unmoving, seemingly holding their breath.

Then, after gingerly wiggling her nose to gauge its intactness, Dexné picked up the black disc, which had clonked to the ground after greeting her face, and held it out from her person with one hand. "You did not," she said robotically, "even manage to break my nose. I am disappointed."

Surprise flitted across them, breaking them from their statue-like state.

Then Lea laughed, Isa smiled, and everything was okay again.

"Ah, man! That almost gave me a heart attack. I thought she was gonna cry!"

"You did not hit hard enough to make me cry."

Isa failed to bite back his laugh. "You two are something else."

Dexné smiled—a true smile. Her head tilted lightly to the side, lips spread upward, showing the fullness of her cheeks and gently curving her eyes. She remembered herself only when she caught Lea staring at her strangely, strange in a way that she couldn't quite discern. There was an odd glimmer to his eye, a faraway sheen.

He stared a bit too long and it unnerved her. She averted her eyes, hand belatedly rushing up to hide her glee.

His grin then became…sad, almost. "Would you quit covering it?"

The memory was cut out by the sight and sound of the chakrams, the flames glaring, the roar loud in her ears, and Dexné opened her eyes to remind herself they weren't really there. She flinched and shuddered regardless.

A frisbee to the face was inconsequential. It throbbed and was painful, but really it was nothing. The pain was quick to fade.

A chakram, on the other hand, wouldn't hurt. No, it wouldn't hurt at all. Its blades would pierce through her face, into her brain, and kill her before pain registered.

That is if he didn't burn her first.

Dexné pushed through her duties, her pace frantic and edgy, those thoughts whispering like ghosts over her shoulder.

A vacation day did not mean rest for Nulla.

Roxas and Xion would be back to work on the morrow and Dexné was expected to have Heartless locations pinpointed. She carried on without any semblance of complaint, though her body was full of them. Only the assurance that Saïx and Axel wouldn't yet implement their plan gave her respite. Axel was asleep, and she overheard him say he'd be sleeping all day.

She wished she could sleep all day. Though even if she was given a day, she doubted she would find rest.

But the wait was driving her mad. Like a carriage horse anticipating the whip she pawed restlessly, wanting to run now rather than wait for the sting but could not due to the harness keeping her buckled in place. And more oft than not she stopped, flabbergasted as to how she was…almost…feeling. She was a Nobody—problems of that nature weren't supposed to afflict her.

She was simply remembering, she realized. She was simply recalling those emotions and instigating them into her current situation. Recognizing that, she was able to push those recollections away, and the turmoil within subsided to a low growl.

Dexné traveled to realms that yielded the fruits she—no, her superiors—desired. Dexné tip-toed through Halloween Town, blurred a path into Wonderland, weaved through the pillars of the Coliseum, and cut lines in the sands of Agrabah until she had enough to go back with. Numbers XIII and XIV would have their work cut out for them tomorrow.

She reported her findings to Saïx.

The Luna Diviner took her quick-hand notes, impassive gaze regarding her silently. Dusks buzzed about him with various papers, folders, and books—all needing to be sorted. One Dusk in particular was swishing around him frenetically, grabbing papers from its identical cohorts and shuffling them into the neat pile tucked under its arm, head turning to Saïx as if looking for approval. Dexné pushed down the urge to shoo it away. But then she glimpsed inconspicuous markings that differentiated it from the rest, and it almost seemed—

"Excellent work, Dexné. You may take the rest of today off."

The Dusk might as well have dissipated into thin air, for Dexné's line of thought was besieged and held captive by the man in front of her.

Protocol kicked in and she bowed before taking leave, feeling strangely light—like she was walking on clouds.

All the doubts and delusions and preconceived horrors that had warred in her head all but vanished, blanketed by one tiny simple act.

Until that moment, Saïx had never called her anything but Nulla.

It was just a tactic. She knew this as soon as she was beyond the scope of his spell.

But the blinders it placed remained.

She remembered Lea's touches.

It was never inappropriate and to any other person it may not have seemed so daunting, but touch to Dexné was rare and unexplored so that the slightest bump or softest brush put her on edge. Even the soft whisper of air as a person moved past did not go without tensing her. Her mother would hug her occasionally, her father too if asked.

The outside world, however, spurned her to be prickly aware.

And for Dexné of the Organization, touch was never good—it was worse; her evasive defense method ruled any form of contact as pain.

For Dexné of the past the consequence was not so cruel, but a mere temporary state causing her to wince and quietly withdraw.

But Lea was not some stranger she could just depart from. He was her friend and if his warm eyes and inviting smile indicated her presence was wanted, she stayed. The strange fluttering in her chest kept her both bound and free—which made no sense to Dexné, but then again she was never really human enough to understand such things even as a person, let alone a Nobody.

A grasp of the shoulder, a nudge, a hand atop her head: noninvasive but persistent and jarring all the same.

Lea never seemed to be conscious of the effect it had on Dexné. A clap on the back sent electric shivers rushing along her nerves, blazing along skin, delving into muscle before conjoining in the rapids of her spine and making the final journey to her brain—all in the span of milliseconds. And Lea would laugh about something Isa said, none the wiser to her predicament.

Sometimes his hand lingered and she'd be acutely aware of the warmth of his palm, the weight of every finger, until he lifted it, freeing her from the daze.

Isa was never so personal. He said what needed to be said, drawing from precise verbal repertoire and expressions that could say so much more. Only Lea intertwined the physical aspect with voice and expression.

In the present, Dexné noticed that hadn't changed about him. He'd rest a hand on Xion's hooded head, pat Roxas on the back.

She watched them with something empty and cold stirring inside, something wistful and tugging.

A grasp of the shoulder, a nudge, a hand atop her head…

He used to connect with her that way.

She hadn't expected to relive those touches. She hadn't expected to lose her position as the watcher either. Dexné always regarded herself outside the bubble of life, outside the pages of the storybook; she was the reader looking in, untouched, unaffected.

And then the words jumped off the pages and wrapped round her like chains, dragging her in.

She was the one being watched now.

Axel didn't hide like Dexné, didn't dart within shadows. In fact he didn't "follow" her at all. He placed himself in the one place he knew she'd have to return to: the Grey Area.

At dawn she'd find him there, stretched out on the couch like a lazy cat, arms behind his head, booted feet sometimes resting on the coffee table; to all the world so relaxed and unassuming. Green eyes that once glimmered with warmth and sincerity now burned into her with a cold calculating fire. She could feel those eyes subtly narrowed upon her.

She was not fooled by his uncaring stance. Perhaps she would've been, if she never heard their secret whisperings. He listened as Saïx expelled her mission's details, causally leaned his head back to catch every rasped word that escaped in reply. Whether Dexné was coming or going, she could feel his stare. She never let on that she knew, remained stoic and detached despite the strong instinct to recoil and stagger away like a startled mare.

She wasn't careful once, stared. His eyes locked onto hers and he smiled. The seemingly friendly gesture shocked her, confusion joining the flutter in her stomach.

But his eyes and his smile are cold—cold—cold—

She kept her head down, did her job. That always got her through.

This time, however, she was not allowed to go about her business in the rudimentary way.

It was almost frightening how he could anticipate when and where she'd be. Or perhaps what was more alarming was that he went where no one else dared to go. He was waiting for her in the shadowy hall leading to her chambers, which was justly called Shadow's Hall.

He leaned against the wall, his red hair and black coat a stark contrast against the barren white surface, staring off into space as if he were a bored teenager and would rather be anywhere else than where he was.

Dexné held back, watching him, secretly hoping his boredom would Corridor him out of there, and yet another side wished he remained.

She stood watching too long, long enough for him to sense he wasn't alone. He turned his head slightly and squinted into the dark that cloaked her. She stepped forward into the dim lighting as to not appear suspicious. A smile quickly adorned his mouth. It was the same smile she'd seen him use at Castle Oblivion, an expression disguised as friendly but, under exemplary scrutiny, was really sharp and cold and fake. She had rather hoped he'd abandoned the smile at that accursed castle…

"Nulla," he called, pushing off the wall and striding towards her, "think I could steal a second?"

"You have," she wanted to say, "and much more," but remained silent, letting him know her consent only by the slight dip of her head.

"I was hoping you could take care of something for me." He reached into a pocket, withdrew papers, presented them to her.

She took them without complaint.

She quickly scanned the mission details and lifted her eyes in confusion, but he could not see the face hidden in the hood. He was employing her assistance in finding simple treasure chests? Multiple missions, in fact, with nearly the same objective: to find things for him. In various worlds, too. She would have to do all that in addition to not only her missions, but quite a few of Demyx's missions as well. It couldn't be done in a twenty-four-hour time period, not if she wanted any rest.

He was watching her, waiting.

She tucked the papers into her coat.

That smile slid on his face again. "I knew I could count on you."

And then, as he moved passed her, she felt his hand come down on her shoulder for the briefest and softest of touches before it slipped off as he went on his way.

The tingling shivers she remembered rushed from the contact point and it took all her willpower not to jump like a startled rabbit. Every instinct inside her screamed evade, evade, run, evade.

She stood still as a rod for several moments, waiting for the shrieking to die. When it did, she felt odd and out of sorts. She was not hurt. She was just…warm.

It was strange, she found, to be touched and not feel pain, but instead feel something almost…pleasant.

The next morning Demyx would find the mission papers he had shed onto Dexné taped to the door of his room, awaiting him for completion.

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A/N: Reviews are very loved!