A/N: Over...heating. I think my brain's dying.

Thank you nafara, VidiaPhoenix, KaytieCat, Anony, WhiteMage, Guest, and AllOtherNamesHaveBeenTaken for your reviews. I'm sorry this took longer than usual. I had it ready a couple days ago, but...I'm still not sure if I'm happy with it. I hope you like it anyway.

::XII::

teacher

Looming trees surrounded them, a silent audience.

The thick canopy provided abundant shadow, and the dapples of golden light that spilled through sparse holes were diligently avoided.

The keyblade thrummed with an energy that could not be seen nor heard, only felt.

Dexné pivoted, leapt backward, sprung forward. She weaved and dashed and rolled all while feeling that harsh tingle whenever it swiped too close, never touching her but leaving an impression still.

She hated to think how it would feel if it actually connected.

Dexné walked slowly, her feet silent on the shaded grass. "Are you watching how I move or are you solely focused on hitting me?"

Roxas glared at her, slumped over his keyblade and panting. He gripped the hilt in both hands, the tip of the blade buried in the dirt. His shoulders heaved as he lifted it, as if the thing suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. "I'm…watching."

"Good."

He charged her once again, his big feet thundering on the ground, his movements slower and choppier now that he was tired.

As for Dexné: she moved. She moved the same as when they first started and would keep going with the same speed no matter how fatigue left her breathless, no matter how her muscles burned. She was used to being pushed to exhaustion and spurned on regardless. Her mind would go into auto-pilot; aching limbs would turn into a buzzing numbness, and her eyes would become cloudy and unfocused, pushing blindly forward.

A machine that did not stop until allowed.

Or so she liked to think. She would feel the full effects of exertion later. When it was over and no one was looking, she would stumble on wobbly legs until she found a safe place to collapse.

She didn't know what she was doing teaching Roxas evasion. Was her way something that could be taught at all? Regardless, she had to try. Her word had been given and to revoke it, from a superior no less, was unthinkable.

"You should keep your speed consistent," she rasped after rolling away from another failed strike.

"That's what…I'm doing."

Dexné shook her head. "You started out fast—too fast. You used up your energy and now you're too tired to keep up—"

Dexné leapt back with a sharp intake of breath just as Roxas dashed forward, swinging his blade in a horizontal arch.

"You interrupted me," she said with the barest trace of awe. "That was..." She fumbled for a descriptive, her lashes fluttering as her brain processed. "...so rude."

Dexné pivoted to the right the moment Roxas brought the keyblade down. He may have slowed, but he was still moving. She couldn't let down her guard and rebuked herself for nearly doing so.

The boy stopped to catch his breath. "Won't all…your enemies…be 'rude?'"

Dexné blinked slowly. Did he just throw her words back? As will all your enemies, she had said. Yes, yes she believed he did throw them back. How cheeky.

She watched him with a wary eye. "Not too slow, not too fast. A consistent median speed is what you want. Save your fastest for when it really counts."

Roxas came at her again, and as he sliced through empty air he staggered, the weight of the keyblade lurching him forward. He gathered himself and spun on his heel to face her.

"You have the stamina," she admitted slowly, wishing he would quit already. She evaded another charge. "But not the technique. That's enough. As I said, you're too tired to keep up."

Roxas grit his teeth, air expelling through the white barricades in a hiss. He reminded Dexné of a frustrated bull that could not unveil the mystery behind the red cloak.

She watched him in the dim of the Twilight Woods. That expression was argumentative and she did not have the time or energy to indulge. Even as sloppy as Roxas was, he still managed to push her. Or perhaps it was because she hadn't been sleeping, not since Saïx…

He couldn't be replacing her. Why hadn't Saïx deployed her? When the Dusks had brought back news of an imposter wearing the black coat, she was sure the Diviner would summon her. Instead he sent that…thing.

"We can meet here again tomorrow if you wish. And remember—"

"If Axel finds out, this ends. I got it." The keyblade vanished with a light that stabbed her retinas. Dexné flinched unnoticed, hidden in her hood as always.

"If anyone finds out," she corrected. She had not specified Axel until his recent return. "No one would approve our one and only keyblade wielder in such close proximity to a Voidling."

"Xion's a wielder too."

"Not my point." Dexné nearly bit the words out, her tone teetering on the monotone line. She did not want to hear that puppet's name.

As Roxas turned to leave, Dexné remembered the rubber ball in her pocket. She extracted it and chucked it at the Key of Destiny's head. It bounced off him with a thump.

"Hey!" He whirled, pinned her with a glare.

The ball rolled back to Dexné's feet where she picked it up deftly. "If you want to dodge like I do, you will need to develop a sixth sense of sorts. A bad feeling. A noise you don't recognize. The slightest change in a shadow's position. You should be aware of such things."

Things I attributed to instinct, she mulled. Something she thought everyone possessed. But it was a selective instinct, common only in those who were panicky like prey.

Dexné watched with vague fascination as the boy's expression shifted repeatedly, and she tested herself on naming the emotions: Irritation. Confusion. Sullenness washed over. Then it settled with an edge of determination. He nodded once. "Right."

"Body language," she interjected, "is also something you should pay close attention to. If you'd done that, I have no doubt you would've evaded the grenade in Halloween Town."

"Right."

Dexné's brow lowered. He really liked that word. Right, right, right. It was his usual response.

When she first started teaching him she had no expectations. She never went easy, never allowed a hit to land. A part of her had hoped he would give up. Instead his tenacity seemed to get stronger. He listened, he fired back, sometimes complained, but never once quavered towards quitting.

Although, this was only their second meeting. There was time yet.

"Tomorrow," she said, before a Dark Corridor engulfed her.

Dexné leaned in the shadow of the rail bridge, her weight braced against a support pillar.

Up in the distance, she saw the two of them, red and gold, sitting on the clock tower's ledge as usual. The setting sun was gentle, its warm light soft on her eyes. It lulled her into a trance, her head lolling to the side to rest on cool concrete. She stared unblinkingly, couldn't seem to take her eyes off them.

Red. Gold.

There was someone…

Her head hurt, like cords were being stretched. With a splintering snap she remembered the boy who looked just like Roxas. Her palm came up to grab the side of her cranium that was not pressed to the wall.

Same unruly blond hair, same watery blue eyes. Looking back, the resemblance was uncanny. So much that it faltered Dexné, made her question yet again the validity of her memories.

Had she taken Roxas's face and pasted it over a boy's she could not quite remember?

Dexné shivered, suddenly too cold in the shade.

Red. Gold.

A boy.

A plan.

A chase by armed guards.

But she hadn't been included.

Lea and Isa had never made her feel excluded before, not until they began their whisperings of the castle. They hushed at her approach, quickly changed subjects. Even so, she caught the tail ends of their plan. But why they wanted to get into the castle she couldn't fathom. Was it a boy thing? Did they have something to prove?

Why couldn't she be let in on their secret mission? Was it simply because of her female parts? It was never a problem before, as they let her play that football game of theirs. She was fast, she couldn't possibly slow them down—they knew this, and yet she got the boot.

Anger growled as she made plans of her own. She snuck after them like a weasel in the grass, whiskers twitching and nose wriggling, fangs hidden beneath the harmless façade.

The bereft boy Lea and Isa came upon sat by his lonesome with knees drawn up. He twirled a wooden sword in a despondent, lazy circle.

Lea was the one to notice; Lea was the one to stop.

"Lea, we don't have time."

"Lighten up, Isa. It'll only take a sec."

Isa sighed, brows rising, a palm resting on his hip in the stance of bored indifference. Although, something about it seemed feigned.

"This yours?" Lea asked of the dropped wooden sword that skittered to his feet. He picked it up, spun it with ease. Landing his grip on the studded end, Lea offered the handle for the boy to take. "You still play with toy swords? That's cute. Now these—" He made a show of bringing out those frisbees." –ta-da! Whaddya think?"

Dexné couldn't catch the boy's mumbled reply but, whatever it was, Lea took it in stride.

"You're just jealous. Name's Lea. What's yours?"

Dexné pressed herself closer to the tree by which she hid, the broad leaves tickling skin. Again she marveled at Lea, how easily he talked with people. Something Dexné would never be able to match.

The wind carried words away, hissed the leaves around her, brought the gurgles of a nearby fountain into too-sharp focus, before doubling back with the sounds she sought. Dexné's eyes split wide. Did Lea just say "Let's fight"?

Sure enough, the next she knew they were going at it, and yet they were…smiling. The encounter held no rage or hostility and it perplexed Dexné immensely. Was this another boy thing? Was it customary for boys to beat each other upon introduction?

How ridiculous. How juvenile. Lea hadn't done that with Dexné. And why not? She sat much like that boy: alone, knees drawn up to chest and gaze downcast. So what was different? She was a girl, and gentle kindness had been entwined with Lea's insistence. Dexné huffed. Not that she wanted to tussle, but—but they shouldn't leave her out of things simply because of her sex.

Apprehension sank in its teeth as Lea fell backward, gasping like he'd sprinted a mile. That boy fought like a seasoned—wait, that sword…

Dexné squinted.

It was not a sword at all. It was a key.

The memory splintered. The Dexné of the past incredulously thought, how stupid. In the present, however, the recall struck her with impossibilities so swift she had to strain to realign the pieces.

Lea was gasping for breath. "Well I'm ready…to call it a draw…if you are!"

Isa spoke up. "The only thing you drew was an L for loser."

"Hey! Isn't this the part where you cheer me up or something?"

"You want me to lie?"

Lea fell back with a flourish, arms crossed behind to cushion his head. "See what I gotta deal with? Sure hope you don't have friends like him!"

Laughter. So easily. Again, Lea had made friends so easily. Both reverence and envy clashed and Dexné huddled in on herself as if to shield her heart from the emotions.

"Lea, we have to go," Isa said. After goodbyes were exchanged and they walked off, Isa spoke again, and his words struck a nerve in Dexné. "What is it with you and picking up stray puppies?"

Lea did not smile. "I want everyone I meet to remember me. Inside people's memories I can live forever."

The memory fizzled, static crackled.

Forever. Live forever. Truly?

No, no—there was—

Blackness slammed down.

Holes were left when the memory restarted.

She lost track of them on the path to the castle. Dark creatures with glowing red eyes came from nowhere, surrounded her.

Was this real? Dexné thought both of the memory and back then.

In the present: Was the memory malfunctioning—was she malfunctioning—showing things unreal?

In the past: Was she really being cornered by monsters or was she dreaming?

Morbid curiosity shrouded fear, rapt her with bemused staring instead of fleeing.

Had the creatures resembled humans, fear would have no doubt been left unhindered. As it was, she wasn't sure what she was looking at. One lunged forward and swiped at her. She jumped back, still in that uncomprehending daze. Were they dogs? Mutant rabbits?

"Unversed!" The boy from earlier dove into the fray, a real blade swinging. "Get back and leave this to me!"

She heard the boy's order but did not listen; she could not stop staring.

And what was that buzzing…in her head?

In the dark, in the dark, in the dark

You know the monsters of the dark

The creatures burst into flecks, disintegrated into nothingness.

The boy's face—Roxas' face—appeared in front of her. "You okay?"

His voice yanked her attention afore. She nodded dumbly, mutely. More words were spoken but they tumbled in her head uselessly like clothes in a dryer. He'd said something about a search, a person, a castle.

"Have you seen him?" he asked hopefully, blue eyes pleading.

Dexné's gaze locked onto the castle, critical of its odd-angled towers, wondering what was so great about the stupid place that everyone wanted inside.

I could get in there, she thought, recalling a certain alley.

"You could?"

Dexné startled, eyes bugging. Had the boy read her mind or had tongue slipped? Regardless which, she was done for. One look at his excited smile trapped her under the pressure of expectancy and the reflex to appease reared. Now she had to show him, the choice ripped from the table.

Scurrying across cobblestone, glancing sparingly over her shoulder to see if he kept up, secretly hoping he didn't, she never let her pace slide. Her feet skirted over smooth stones as if they were glowing with fire. But she did not run, did not give the impression of elusion. The boy persisted, even upon losing sight of her at the turn of corners. He ran; the separations were brief.

It was at the end of a narrow alleyway that Dexné resigned herself to her imposed duty. Her cheeks burned from shame, the sources being her attempt to ditch someone who technically helped her and the building dread that her secret castle entrance would fail—and she would have to admit that failure in front of a new audience.

But, then again, failing before the eyes of this boy wouldn't compare to humiliation before a known friend like Lea, had she chosen to indulge the secret to him.

He should have asked.

But he was too busy not including her in his mission.

"There's a balcony up there." She pointed atop the steep alley wall. "To the castle. Just…do as I do."

Heat sprang up her nape at the boy's skeptical look. The panic, the need to dodge humiliation, pushed her adrenaline into overdrive.

The alley was so narrow Dexné could reach out and touch opposing walls with her palms. It served little purpose; no doors, no windows, no room for dumpsters. A result of constructional error. She found it when she was young, when her little feet pattered around in fruitless searches for sustenance.

Dexné braced her legs against the walls in a split and the strong muscles bore her up, up, up. With every scuffling step she "walked" higher. The greater her altitude the more skepticism fell from the boy's face, until it dangled like his jaw.

"C-careful!" he called up to her.

Dexné's heart hammered relentlessly, like it was trying to escape the position she duped it into.

The boy became smaller and smaller. So did the ground.

"You wanted inside the castle, yes? Come on, up, up!" She dared not look down anymore.

"Ah, I don't think—"

"Hurry," she gasped, to both him and herself. Her legs shook with strain, their initial strength waning. "Do—as I do."

Her arms locked and quivered with effort to help not just balance, but aide her tiring lower half. Swiftly one foot jerked up, then the other, step by step until sunlight touched the crown of her head. Her heart stuttered with stabs of panic. How was she to get over that railing? Her palms sweat, her legs vibrated uncontrollably. She cared not of embarrassment anymore, or the view her bunched up sundress was undoubtedly bestowing.

There was only her. And the ground below.

She had to.

Dexné lunged for the stone rail, gripped, faltered, and hung helplessly. Weak biceps struggled pointlessly. Dexné contorted her spine, dragged a leg up—if she could just get a leg over she could pull herself up.

Her leg hooked. The rest was simple.

Smoothing her dress down, she leaned over the barrier, waiting. Resolve quickly overtook the boy's shock. He did as she did, albeit with less struggling as he was strong both top and bottom.

They ran through the castle, both lost, both never seeing the inside before. Dexné ran a step ahead. She felt like she should know where to go, acted like she did. He asked for her help; it was her duty to guide him, even if she didn't know left from right in that place.

He stuck with her, stuck to shadows.

More monsters appeared and so did the keyblade in a flash of light. The boy fought, Dexné dodged. But she felt naked with nothing, so when she spotted a coiled rope suspended on a hook by an empty sentinel, she grabbed it.

Keyblade slicing, rope whipping and tripping: a premonition to a future song and dance of blades and chains.

"He's not here," she said when monsters became too many and guards were heard shouting, though she had no clue who the boy looked for.

She yanked the boy behind a suit of arms just as a large guard with a dark head of dreadlocks ran from one far corridor to another, pieces of monsters trailing in the wake of his lance.

"Let's go," she urged. She did not want to chance that man coming their way.

Somehow, with lucky backtracking, they were back on the terrace they started from. Dexné peered over the edge. She didn't know how to get back down. Besides falling.

"Let's find another way," the boy spoke, seeing her tight frown.

They were running along the outside, on battlements and over shallow roofing, when Dexné veered into the balustrade, slamming to a halt.

Lea and Isa had been captured.

Dexné leaned out over the rail, stretching her neck to see, almost as if offering it for the guillotine in place of theirs.

The guards had them by the scruffs.

Isa hung with arms crossed, all resigned reticence.

Lea was failing like an angry cat, all hisses and swiping claws.

Pressure built in Dexné's chest. It popped out with a harsh bark of laughter. The sound cut off as the dreadlock guard threw her friends to the ground, and the first simmering of anger took the place of amusement. Isa was quick to his feet. Lea was more concerned with connecting a glare to the man who tossed them.

The tall brawny guard with brown hair and severe appearance was looking upwards, his sharp eyes probing for something he must've heard. Like laughter.

"Come on!" The boy pulled Dexné away.

Giggles condensed and rumbled in her throat as she sprinted. Too much excitement too unexpectedly, it had to released in some way, like a pressure valve letting off steam.

Unable to find another escape route, Dexné and the boy were forced back to the narrow alley. Gazing into the mouth of the gap, she shuddered with uncertainty. Climbing up was a natural instinct. Climbing down, however…

The rope was snatched from Dexné and she flinched when the boy tied it around her waist. "You'll go first," he said, finishing the knot, "and I'll make sure you don't fall."

He steadied her by the arm as she maneuvered down into the harrowing split. Dexné quavered, shoe soles gritting on the rough brick. The strong grip on her upper arm kept her steady. She waited, and carefully he let go, hand hesitating in the air, ready to re-clamp at a moment's notice. The rope was attached to the banister, a lifeline in case of the worst.

"You know, I don't even know your name," the boy said abruptly, "but I kinda feel like we're friends."

Dexné dipped her head in a forced nod, and got an eyeful of the distant ground. "Okay, yes," she stuttered, not really listening, not really caring.

Trembles crawled her skin, her bones. Tentatively she slid a foot down.

With a loud scrape it slipped completely and pain exploded as her head hit the brick, preventing her fall.

"Easy!" the boy grappled for her. When safely braced once more, his hand still hovered, even as she moved down out of reach. Such action had her furrowing her brow. For someone she just met…he seemed very concerned.

She was almost halfway to the ground when the rope went taut and the boy had to untie it so she could continue. It flopped past her like a falling snake.

At last their feet were planted on solid ground. The boy gave Dexné a warm smile and helped her untie the rope from her waist…an assurance he did not receive on his descent, but made sure she had. A weight that wasn't laughter pressed into her chest. Why did he act like he cared?

She'd asked the same of Lea, in the beginning.

"Thanks. We didn't find him. But, thank you."

Dexné nodded, discomfort mounting at the sadness that stole into his smile, and she followed beside him as they walked free of the alley.

The hairs on the back of Dexné's neck rose.

Quietly she stopped. She glanced all around her. Nothing.

But the feeling persisted.

She squinted into the alley's shadow, looked up—

There was a figure standing on the castle balcony.

Gold eyes bored into Dexné's black holes. The man, though elderly, held power in the wide-set of his shoulders. The hairless head and small hunch of his back made Dexné think of a vulture.

The smile the man sent was not friendly, nor warm.

Dexné could not move.

In the dark, Voidlings, in the light, Voidlings…are the biggest monsters of all.

ᗩɍᕨᘗ'ᖶ ԏћҿу?

The memory fizzled, images convulsed, and pain seared in Dexné's skull.

Roxas and Axel had gone from the clock tower.

She went to meet with Roxas in the woods, as promised, trying to ignore flickering images and black thorns circling in her mind. Respiratory function malfunctioned; she had to remind herself to breathe. She thought she was asphyxiating, only to find she simply wasn't drawing in air.

When she saw Roxas, she saw that boy. The choking sensations ebbed.

Chains rattled and blade flashed, both dancing a dance of dodge and strike.

In-between, words were passed.

"Is there anything you couldn't bear to lose?"

"Memories," she answered after a short pause, her rasping voice unsteady.

"Funny." Roxas smiled, resting his keyblade on his shoulder. "Axel said the same thing."

She didn't know what she should be feeling. Satisfied, perhaps. Maybe a spark of hopeful anticipation.

But only jittery anxiousness sizzled in the emptiness.

"Just give me another chance," the replica pleaded softly.

From what words Dexné gathered, it seemed Number XIV had failed to capture the imposter. Though the puppet encountered the person, it couldn't subdue him. Now the fraud knew they were hunting him, and he was nowhere to be found.

"We can't afford to take any more chances on you. You were a mistake we never should have made."

Merciless and to the point, as always, Isa, Dexné thought dryly.

In so many ways he was the same. But then Dexné thought of those golden irises, and was instantly beleaguered by the golden stare she wished she never remembered. She screwed her lids shut, picturing Isa's green eyes.

Dexné heard Saïx's strong footsteps ascend the staircase that hung high in the tower, its menacingly transparent steps plaguing Dexné's gut with twists of the falling illusion. The urge to hide struck her, but the bareness of the stairs rendered her immobile, her mind gears stuttering, her body trembling, and then it was too late.

Saïx rounded the banister, his golden stare piercing her where she stood. "Just who I was looking for."

She froze, stopping breathing.

Dexné could not stop the satisfaction that welled like an overflowing fountain, nor could she suppress the twitching at the corners of her mouth.

Days passed as Dexné uptook the mantle of seek and devour, filled with single-minded reconnaissance, trickling across landscapes and through towns like water branching down a long and extensive hill. She tracked; the hound on the trail.

Through it all the gloomy shadow of her memories followed above, lingering low, a storm cloud just over her head.

What was real and what was not? What went in the holes, the scattered pits dotting her recollections? Did the images distort due to untruth—or did something bigger lie beneath the surface?

Foreboding filtered into the fringes of Dexné's dogged tunnel vision.

Memories were faltering, many chunks left uncovered by inky blackness.

To top it off the imposter vanished into thin air.

The bloodhound couldn't stop. If she failed there was no one left. Allures of food and drink and even sleep dwindled to nothingness in the blaze of her pursuit.

She had to find that imposter, she had to.

When exhaustion crept into every bone she staggered to her room, using the Dark Corridors to bypass Saïx. She would not face him until a lead was achieved.

A knock resounded from her door. She wanted to melt into the pillow and never be found, but Saïx could not be ignored. Yanking her hood tight she limped to the threshold, dreading the stark, bitter disappointment she was sure to see—she could already see, in her mind's eye. His low brows contorting those crossing scars, corners of his mouth turned harshly down, nose wrinkled in disgust at her inability to—

The door swished open.

Roxas stood blinking like a placid calf. His head jerked up at her presence. His blue eyes lost the far-away sheen and focused with an offended intensity. "Where were you?"

Oh…

Of course. She missed their dodge session.

His indignation faded upon noticing her sway. "Are you okay?"

Dexné's mind threw her back to that boy with the same visage. "Fine, my liege."

Her chest constricted. Why did she call him that?

Roxas seemed to be asking himself the same question, his eyelids peeling back in surprised confusion. "Huh?"

An awkward quiet fell, sprawling long and wide.

"So…tomorrow, then?"

Did that boy ever give up?

"As you say. Tomorrow."

"Don't forget this time."

She didn't.

In fact she was early.

She watched them on the clock tower, her gaze attached to red. When they departed her eyes narrowed shrewdly. Roxas had better not head straight to their meeting spot, she thought with sour expression. She'd told him not to, advised of leaving different trails. Or, better yet, no trail at all.

But he did go straight there and just for that she made him wait, held back in the pines.

He kicked pebbles, walked circles, waited with the patience of a stalled bronco. Only as dejected acceptance settled in his features did she step forward.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

"So this is where you've been running off to," came a smooth voice.

Wild red hair glinted in the coins of sunlight falling through the trees, making a steep contrast to the shadowed woods surrounding him.

"Axel!" Roxas startled like child caught in a forbidden act.

"Whatcha doin'?" Axel's smile was easygoing, but an edge laid behind his eyes.

Dexné fought not to shiver. If she had taken just a few more steps, she'd be out in the open, exposed.

The urge to retreat clawed at her insides, and she fought to repress it. Any motion might bring his eye to the fragile pine needles, so prone to quivering even in the gentlest of breezes. She stayed frozen, mid-stride, a rabbit praying, "Please don't see me."

"Nothing…" Roxas mumbled, looking to the ground as if raking it for a lost pin.

"Nothing, huh?" Axel crossed his arms, mimicking Roxas's downward gaze for but a moment. His eyes were grave when they reconnected. "Roxas…what were you doing in Shadow's Hall yesterday?"

Roxas's head shot up. "What?"

"I saw you head down there."

Tense silence stretched, straining like iron bending, where Dexné could not only feel but hear her heart thumping.

Axel sighed. "Roxas—"

"What's the problem?" Roxas snapped, and what he said next had Dexné cringing. "She's helping me get stronger!"

He'd blown it. If he remained silent, if he tossed out half-truths, maybe… No, a false hope. Perhaps those things would work on a stranger, but not someone he interacted with every day, someone who could see through him.

"Nulla is a Voidling," Axel punctuated.

"And a comrade!"

"Roxas, there's a reason everyone's kept separate from that thing. Voidlings aren't stable beings."

The boy's face twisted in confusion. "Then why's she here? I mean, we couldn't keep her in the castle if she really were that dangerous, right?"

"That's Xemnas's call. If it were up to me she wouldn't be." Axel's tone was a cold, matter-of-fact statement.

Dexné struggled not to recoil from his words; her teeth clenched so they might break, her entire face contorted in a grimace like she was bearing cuts from a knife and trying not to scream.

"But…" Roxas hung his head, consternation overcoming him before he looked up with a hard glint to his eye. "I was the one who asked her for help, and she is helping. I've barely been hit by Heartless since she started teaching me."

Stunned, Dexné went slack. Was he…defending her? And lying too, for as far as he knew, Dexné was the one to initiate the training regimen. Only from Dexné's view was the implication unintentional.

Caring without knowing, determination hidden under a lost expression. He was just like that boy from back when. Were they—? No, they couldn't possibly be one and the same. That boy would have to be Dexné's age, at least, and Roxas was half that.

Axel's hand closed on the Key of Destiny's shoulder. "Nulla could devour you—without even meaning to. The black hole could tear open and once you're past that event horizon, that's it. Nothing can save you." He held both shoulders now, leaned down to look Roxas in the eye. "No more, Roxas. Stay away from Nulla."

Grim resolve broke through the confusion battling on Roxas's face, and he pulled away from Axel, turning and leaving without answering.

Axel's empty fingers curled into fists at his side.

If Dexné had a memory of courage, she would have stepped out and formally ended the training herself. Unfortunately, no such memory existed. The ghost of her spiritual heart clung, tightening strings in her chest until she thought she might snap.

Uneasiness.

Nervousness.

There was another word for it, one she could not fully remember and therefore not feel, but as she eyed Axel's fists and the tense, tall way he stood, it lingered on the tip of her tongue.

That feeling…that choking emotion that trapped her with desperation so intense she would die to get away. The memory was there, but covered by fog.

Loitering in that vacuous space, she could only see one thing.

Axel was going to come looking for her. Of that she was sure.

A/N: Reviews are a cooling balm in this forsaken heat. T_T

Thank you for reading.